#do *I* need to blow up a horse? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

screampied · 6 months ago

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‘ SAVE A HORSE, MILK A . . DEMON ?! ’

ᡴꪫ sum. who would’ve known the king of curses can lactate? not you and certainly not him. this is dire, he needs help but more importantly - he needs you.

warnings. fem! reader, heian era, vırgin sukuna, pùssy drunk sukuna, established relationship, unprotected, láctation (sukuna), we literally milk him, squırting, nıpple play, brēeding, brief ōral (f! receiving), premature ejac, overstim, praise.

wc. 5.7k

an. elaborating more on here. need him so bad

“you, c’mere,” you pause dead in your tracks, feeling a bit special that the sukuna ryomen, your worthy king was seeking out for you. his voice was loud, it rang through the walls of his kingly chambers before huffing out a single breath. he rests on his throne - bawled fist smushing into the edge of his cheek and he grumbles. “quickly, woman. close the door behind you.”

without replying, you do as you’re told. closing the old wooden doors, they shut with a bang. the demon’s eye twitches and he does a quick scan around his domain — empty, good. “are you okay, my lord?” you break the silence with glossed eyes, gazing how his body language was more awkward than normal. he lets out a blow, flushed face growing heated the second your mouth opens. crimson red eyes peer into you and his hair was a bit more ruffled - sukuna’s kimono was halfway on and he looked like he was burning up.

“what do you think?” he snarls, and he rolls his eyes before staring at the ground. “tch, anyways. i . . require your pathetic aid, brat. i don’t ask for anything but—”

“just tell me what’s wrong.”

with a abrupt scoff, he yanks off the silky woven fabric of his kimono - callused fingertips brushing against the material. your eyes ogle at the sight he’s showing you, his exposed body. you’ve seen him shirtless countless of times but this time, it was different. the second your eyes rover toward his swollen perky nipples, you see it. pearly remnants of white droplets seep from him and you hold back a sheepish snort.

“oh,” and you’re stunned, hearing him groan. although it didn’t sound like an irritated groan as usual—it sounded more pleasurable. sukuna buries his sharp fingertips into his thigh before you inch closer, softening your voice. “my lord. are you . . lactating?”

there’s a long pause—his chest huffs and his pink cheeks puff out. the more you laid your eyes on him, the more embarrassed he became.

the air surrounding the both of you suddenly felt hot, and with one of his hands, he tightens his grip against his throne’s armrest. “no, i don’t even know what this is,” he gruffs, and his breath hitches once you come closer to fully examine him. your eyes skim down every part of his body. with his kimono hanging onto him by a thread, it’s almost falling off his body. you gaze at his perfectly sculptured body. his muscles—you could stare all day if you really wanted. people would kill to be this close to the king, and yet here you were. his pecs seemed a bit tender from appearance and his entire body was sheeny, covered with a shiny coat of sweat. his ancient tattoo markings that paint his skin—they were glowing a bit too, glowing an almost crystalline color. “tch. stop starin’ at it. it’s creepin’ me out.”

“sorry,” you hum, but you don’t lose sight at all. you couldn’t. averting your eyes back toward the problem, as you spoke—each nipple was leaking with creamy substance. “um, so how long has this been happening, my lord?”

sukuna slumps back against his throne in exhaustion. he’s breaking an entire cold sweat and his mind was in a literal euphoric daze.

his entire body feels like it’s sweltering with heat, it’s purely indescribable. but it feels good.

it takes him a good seven seconds before he finally murmurs out a hoarse reply. “ugh, it maybe started about a hour ago,” and he pauses, gnawing down on his bottom lip. you watch and you couldn’t lie—seeing him like this, so vulnerable and desperate—it did something to you. you’re so used to a ruthless cold-hearted king, it’s like this current sukuna was an entire different person, an imposter. briefly, ruby-red eyes meet back toward you. “just make it stop. please.”

“what—” you murmur, and your wrist was gently pulled upon. you don’t pull away from his grasp and he leads your hand closer toward his chest. his entire abdomen, it was so warm. sukuna was burning up, and now that your fingertips were brushing up and down against his skin, he was even hotter.

“don’t say anything, woman,” he curses, shame tremoring underneath his husky tone.

sukuna ryōmen was embarrassed, and his awkward body language was a dead giveaway.

the past hour was absolute hell for him, ironic considering. you can hear him panting between broken sentences before he lightly squeezes your wrist. “touch me. i think physical touch might h- help,” he grunts a stammer, back pressing into his steel made throne. “i read somewhere that you might ease my um . . issue if you touch me.”

“you mean ease your lactating?” you tease, taking the opportunity to get right on his lap. at the second you do, his breath hitches. the audacity, your legs wrap around his slim torso before meeting his glossed gaze.

sukuna grimaces. “don’t call it that, brat,” sucking his teeth in annoyance, he rests back against his kingly seat, eyeing you cautiously. a few of his arms grab ahold of your waist, pulling you closer. his pecs tense up at the proximity of bodies closing the remaining distance. his nipples were even more swollen by this point, and you couldn’t help but stare—gawk at the uncanny sight right in front of you. “but yeah. just do something.”

with the demon right underneath you, you felt him shiver once you scoot up against his lap. tresses of pink spiked hair were unkempt, sticking to his forehead as he’s just bathing in his own sweat. this entire situation had him hot, but your touch was only going to make it so much worse. he swallows the circular lump that forms in his throat only to then grow quiet as he watched you lower your head toward his chiseled pecs.

he’s so toned, you spot a few prodding veins roam down each of his four arms—perfectly coating his body along with his scars and ancient notorious marks. sukuna’s entire body was a canvas that you didn’t mind exploring. his entire body was painted either markings, you just wanted to see more of him.

the inside of his royal chambers was quiet, deadly quiet.

so quiet that you could hear a pin drop.

“may i?” you murmur, using the padded print of your thumb to gingerly smear the dripping substance that leaks from his nipple. the way it poured out of him so effortlessly, it was so lewd.

you knew judging from his changing breath patterns that his pecs were where he was most sensitive. it wasn’t exactly rocket science.

although it’s the heian era—most would have took sukuna as a king who’s had his fair share of women. he has, but never anything intimate. he was secretly sensitive and shy, and furthermore, even touch alone was enough to get him off. with you though, he never minded your touch. it was his favorite.

“hmph. do your w- worst,” the demon grumbles, trying to have a bit of attitude but it’s clear he’s already wrapped around your pretty little finger.

he called you out of all his other servants and concubines for a reason. to him, he didn’t see you as either role, but rather just a human.

his human, maybe even his favorite.

at his bellowing comply, you bring your lips closer toward his chest. with hooded eyes—he ogles at the sight, his throne occasionally creaking at the moving pounds of weight that’s creating pressure.

as your head goes further into him, you do the least thing he’d expect. you latch your lips against his right nipple. sukuna lets off a throaty gasp, feeling your warm welcoming lips cling onto his pec with such ease.

“ugh, brat,” he groans, burying a few darkened nails into his left knee. it was tame—it was tame until your tongue decided to feature itself in, flicking slowly against his leaking nipple. you moan, fluttering your lashes shut as you savor the creamy taste that trickles its way into your mouth. “fuck, i said touch not s- suck.” and he finds himself pulling you closer, using a hand to cradle the back of your head. he’s never felt such a feeling. his pec was positioned right in your mouth and it felt so good.

you lean into his touch, sliding your twitching tongue in different directions purposely just to feel him squirm.

one of his arms drags you tighter, wrapping around your torso as you occupy your mouth.

the taste was sweet, it’s as if this entire thing was some sort of fantasy. of course—you had lots of questions, for starters—since when can demons lactate? rephrase that, since when can sukuna ryōmen lactate? but you were more of the ‘do first ask later’ type considering you were too busy to even ponder more of the thought.

sukuna bites his lip, feeling a strain in his boxers as he hears the occasional pops and slurrrrps of your mouth. “y- you’re fuckin’ nasty,” he huffs, but his voice cracks, butchering his once intimidating delivery entirely.

nasty but he didn’t want you to stop,

nasty but he felt himself getting hard the more you grind against his lap,

nasty but he’s holding back his needy bratty moans by biting his fangs down on his tongue.

sukuna purses his arched pink brows together into a frustrated furrow as his head tosses itself back. within seconds, you taste more of the candied flavor — it’s almost got a bit of a bittersweet honey taste to it. it sprinkles onto your sensitive taste buds and your eyes squeeze a bit, moving your head against each of his pecs to give them both equal amounts of attention. the demon’s nipples were even more red and swollen now, glimmering with your saliva dribbling from the centers. “hah, f- fuck,” he breathes, still maintaining a grip on the back of your head. you sit up to collect breaths yourself, licking your stained lips before he stares at you. his eyelids lower and he’s already whipped. “i— oh fuck.”

you raise a brow, opening your mouth to speak before you suddenly pause.

sukuna was quiet, too quiet.

with his kimono still half on, he’s practically shirtless. toned chiseled pecs stare at you right in the eye before you feel the heavy print of his dick directly underneath your shorts.

“my lord,” you sheepishly rub your neck, fingertips skimming against the few hairs that stand. there’s a certain wet spot that’s damp on the fabric of his lower clothing. your words were smooth, he could listen to you speak all day. with a smug smile curling against the corners of your lips, you throw your arms over his broad shoulders. “did you just . . cum?”

“nonsense,” sukuna denies you right away, the cutest grump of a pout stretching against his lips.

but, oh he did.

and it was a tough pill to swallow. sukuna, the sukuna who’s often known as his righteous title of being the king of curses, feared upon many, had just came. not only that, but he came from you sucking on his nipples. he came from the little problem he was currently having. out of all the enemies he’s beaten—this had to be the toughest one. he didn’t know how to deal with it nor did he know how to defeat it. the weakness was him.

and yet, that’s why he called you.

the feeling of your warm rotund lips attached to his nipples, he already missed it. it’s been seconds since you pried your mouth away and he missed it so bad. the way you sucked against his tender skin, your hot breaths fanning into his skin, making him even more hot.

sukuna was having withdrawals of you and your tongue slowly lapping up the excess ‘milk’ that dribbled out of each nipple.

this was crazy,

this is crazy.

he’s a demon for crying out loud—he’s never heard of demons doing such things. lactation. what even is lactation? sukuna knows such an activity was for women, not him.

but here he was, weak and panting like a dog, all for more of your beloved touch.

sukuna’s lying back, staring at you with docile blown irises—he’s at his worst, clammy hands never leaving the sides of your waist.

“fine. i . . came,” he murmurs in defeat, taking every spare second to gasp for air.

he’s drowning in sweat, probably drowning in his own heat too. with a pout continuing to compress across his lips, his voice lowers. but once you prepare to sit up, he lightly grabs your wrist. “fuck, don’t go yet,” he utters, knowing you did your part successfully in helping him. he hated how he was suddenly so weak, so dependent, so . . . submissive.

after all, you did help ease him a bit— although he was still begging for more.

it was as if some sort of sorcery spell was casted on him. this was a curse, yeah it had to be.

to sukuna, it couldn’t have been a more reasonable explanation. you peer at him as he speaks and he’s trying to find the exact right words without embarrassing himself. there’s a scowl that continues to marinate agaunst facial features before he sighs. “i- there’s somethin’ else,” he admits, hanging his head down in ignominy. he’s annoyed, sukuna groans at the words that were hanging onto his teeth—trying desperately not to slip them out but he can’t take it anymore.

he wants you.

he needs you.

“since you helped with my . . situation, it’s made me a little um—famished.”

you gulp, barely catching on to what he was implying—yet with a blink of an eye, you then find yourself arched over the arm of sukuna’s throne.

“i’m so fuckin’ starved,” he grunts, using a hand to caress the bare skin of your exposed flesh. serrated fingertips lightly graze against you as he feels everywhere that’s presented to him. the palm of his hand feels all up and down your curves, taking in your gorgeous physiques. he wanted to touch you. sukuna was horrible at expressing his feelings—yet he found himself humping his pillow at the thought of you. he didn’t know how to voice how bad he wanted you, but now that this moment was finally here, he couldn’t waste anymore time.

you’re so pretty, especially in such a erotic position. it seems as though a wave of clouded lust wafts in the air. sukuna tugs on the hem of your shorts, so needy to get a taste. he was dehydrated—but not for water.

“please,” a husky low voice pleads, groans and groans scratching out of his throat. you decide to tease him, wriggling your ass in the air right in front of his face before he hisses. “tsk. such a brat.”

“go ‘head.” you mumble, clinging onto the edge of the throne for support.

your positioning was a bit awkward but you made it work. you bury your head into your arms before he shifts—sitting up to prop himself right against you from behind.

sukuna wastes no time, dragging your shorts to your knees before scoffing at your laced panties. so soaked, his tongue eagerly licks against his lips as if it was natural animal instinct.

you weren’t just soaked, you were sopping.

he saw the dampened fabric and couldn’t help but lean in—placing his tongue right against the wet spot that formed. “ngh,” he purrs, and you feel the texture of his forked tongue tickle against your protected clit. you moan, biting back on your incoming words and growls before he gives your sloppy entrance a chaste kiss. “god, w- what’s wrong with me. i feel so hot.”

pathetically, he’s stammering out a bunch of words as he slowly laps his tongue against your sobbing cunt. sukuna grumbles in exasperation at how your panties got in the way of his ‘meal’ but literally forgot he had to actually pry take them off of you.

he was lazy though — so instead, he easily pulls them to the side to get a better and wetter view.

“so sloppy,” he snickers, admiring the way you’re dribbling with slick. it’s so ethereal, nothing like he’s ever seen before. a translucent tint colors down your drooling folds and you gasp once he starts to suck against your pussy. almost immediately, you throb right in his mouth and he feels the greeting pulse. “mhh—stay still, let me eat p-please.”

sukuna sounds so desperate—you don’t think you’ve ever heard your king beg.

he wasn’t begging for forgiveness, to cleanse sins, nothing of the sort. but alas, instead, he was just begging for pussy.

your pussy.

he couldn’t help it, especially when you tasted so good. your flavor was something he severely dreamt of devouring.

you might have just been his favorite for a reason. sukuna groans as his tongue maneuvers in multiple directions near your clit until he slurps vigorously against your tender labia. “fuck, m- my lord,” you whine, the stickiness between your thighs soaking more onto your skin.

you were dripping like a faucet, and it doesn’t take that long before his entire chin gets coated with your syrupy arousal.

it’s to no one’s surprise really, and he doesn’t even mind. he’s honored, lapping it up with his tongue before blowing his warm breath against your spiraling convulsing cunt. your breath continues to hitch and hitch as he dives his deeper. the button tip of his nose swipes back ‘n forth against your folds and you whimper.

he’s slurping you clean, through and through. sukuna’s got two wide hands to spread your ass apart more, delving his long pink tongue back and forth between your puffed entrance—you whimper out his regal title of his name and it falls off your tongue in such a sweet way every time. “y- your tongue’s so long, fuck. right there, don’t stoppp.”

but tasting you wasn’t enough - he wanted more.

strings of your webby slick entangle with his saliva as he suddenly departs his lips away. he’s gasping for air, swiping a tongue near your puckering hole before spitting right on it. a hand feels against your twitching cunt before he spanks it — his palm now coated with your slick.

you were sopping wet, and with how you just spurt on his hand, he wanted to make you wet even more.

it’s slow,

he watches with hooded eyes as your soddened entrance gets soaked and even more drenched. all from his hands and tongue. you could only imagine what he actually felt like from the inside.

“more,” was all he could moan out, and his pecs started to feel tender again.

his body was so strange—there’s a weird sensation that’s tingling in every part of him but it feels good.

you pout once he abruptly stops eating you out, only for him to flip you over. facing him and back on his lap, you’re met with the hungry eyes of a demon who wants more than just a taste.

he wants you.

with the help of his arms, he positions you upright on his lap again. you’re straddling him—but the difference was that you didn’t have any shorts on from before. “i- i want you to ride me, woman. can you do that?” and you can hear the faint plead in his voice—he looks desperate, he was breaking more sweats as each second passes.

“yeah,” you hum, cupping his face.

the demon surprisingly leans into his touch. the warmth of your palms made his heart stir into mush. a hand of his reaches down to play with the string of your panties that was shoved to the side but with quick reflexes—you grab his wrist. “nuh uh,” and he scowls, watching as you use your other hand to spring out his achy cock. “no touching just yet.”

he bares a fang at you. the nerve, if it was anyone else it’d be off with their head in an instant. but to sukuna, he found your teasing behavior to be quite . . cute.

of course, he’d rather perish than admit that thought to your face. just like how he secretly fantasizes about you but— he wants to keep at least some pride, even if it’s just a little.

“keh, you’re getting cocky, brat. remember your place,” he grouses, pink brows tugging amongst each other. his pout never left him and it only made him more adorable. sukuna’s eyes flicker down at your hand that’s now wrapped around his length. he swallows thickly, a breath of fresh air leaving from his full lungs. “hurry up. don’t got all da—”

“you talk too much,” you press your palm over his mouth, silencing the remaining of his sentence.

you’re met with a stone cold glare—but his vexed gaze gradually turns into a look of desired pleasure once you’re aligning yourself on his leaky tip.

his lips were so close to your palm - out of nowhere, you then feel his tongue lick against your hand. you refrain from giggling before feeling his angered tip slowly start to insert its way inside. the stretch, he’s so thick that your mouth drops open and you moan. he’s finally going inside—it’s better than he thought it would be. you’re so hot inside and it’s got his head spinning. gnawing on the skin of your lip, you let off a soft shaky whine. “fuck, you’re so big.”

he shakes his head, making you loosen your grip against his mouth before he boasts loudly. “heh, of course i’m big. you wouldn’t last a second with both of my cocks. i’d break you in hal— shit.”

he’s cut off by the rudeness of your cunt. you sink down on him and his tip poked a certain area inside of you that scratches your brain.

you bite back an incoming moan as your swollen cunt constricts around his length invitingly. his tip blushes inside—you reel into him, an attempt to steady yourself before already gasping for air.

the girthy stretch was immaculate, the base of his cock was tannish and already preparing itself to be milked. sukuna had a bit of a hooked curve. you felt it and you felt the stretch.

it was purely appetizing, almost drool worthy. just a few seconds in and he was already rearranging your insides. as you’re trying to start up a pace, you don’t know why but the thought of taking both of sukuna’s cocks made you a lot more wetter than you thought it would.

he’s mentioned it at least once or twice and you knew for a fact he probably would break you. there’s no probably, he really would. the demon was twice your size—alas anything was possible.

you lean in for a kiss and he instantly responds by returning the gesture. you taste so flavorsome and sweet - his tongue swirls against the lip gloss that paints on your mouth before he groans.

with lips moving in syncing tavern, you start to rock your hips a bit quicker.

the creaking of his throne gets louder until it’s just echoing, bouncing off the ancient walls of his chambers.

your cunt was just being ravaged by his hefty size, he’s just so big that you could barely even keep up your hips at first. sukuna’s hands—all of his hands roam over your body, clinging onto your hips and even a few feel near your chest. he gives your breasts a soft squeeze, a few thumbs toying with your perky nipples that poke out through the wooly-made blouse you were.

“f- fuuuck,” he swears between hot kisses, clawing a hand at your back.

as you rode him, his heartbeat starts to accelerate. you were a menace, rutting clashing hips gave him whiplash as the minutes pass. you were coating him in a mess of your own. sappy strings of your juices form into a saturated web with his own colorless mess that resides near his thickset base. you’re being so stretched. you cup his face once more whilst tongues fight and fight for dominance and tango together.

above him—you’re just a puddled mess.

sukuna couldn’t keep his hands off you no matter how hard he tried.

strained inhales escape out of him while he breaks away from kisses every few seconds. you were addicting - addictive.

his velvet red lips were all swollen and pursed up from your kisses and he’s desperately yearning for more of your syrupy forbidden taste. you were sweet, but your pulsating cunt was even sweeter.

with a quick piston of his hips, you felt your body jolt up. “hngh,” you gasp, wrapping your arms around his broad neck once more. from the neck down, his entire body was lathered with perspiration. sukuna was already feral, his hair was a mess and his fangs stuck out from his lips as he lies back. he hits every part of you so good, every single spot.

you’re struck in awe at how well his cock carves its way through your insides so perfectly, so thoroughly. it knows exactly where to go, never once missing the crevices of your pussy. despite having little to no experience—you could say he was definitely a quick learner. sukuna’s cock french kisses against your g-spot a plethora of times, creating a sloppy trail of them to send every part of your body butterflies. “ ‘m getting close, ‘kuna.”

“tsk. it’s still ‘my lord’ to you,” he corrects.

yet even though he’s trying to keep his cold façade - he’s failing miserably. sukuna’s bottom lip quivers as he cups your chin, hearing the filthy weeping squelches of your cunt grow louder. with each thrust, it gets more blaring to his ears and he groans at the tenderness he’s constantly feeling. “but ‘m gettin’ close too. so f- fuckin’ close.”

you hear how his voice shakes — his irises, they’re dilating from how you’re intently staring back.

but oh, he’s whipped.

a pair of hands grip onto your waist tightly, encouraging you to create more haste with your movements. your body swerves in swift arcs, feeling the sudden lock occur in your knees that’s buried into his thighs. he’s hitting you deep and he’s hitting you raw. you blabber out a few whimpers before slumping into his chest.

“fuck, fuck,” you sob out, reaching a hand down to spread two fingers against your pearled clit. you were throbbing, a sheath of your arousal then starts to cover his entire length the more you bounce. your folds were weeping as you grinded further against him. but as you’re chasing your incoming high, you lean in toward his pecs, taking one of his sensitive nipples into your mouth again.

and sukuna does the one thing you never thought he’d ever do.

he whimpers.

it sounds so pretty - so harmonic.

it’s like it happens on random—out of nowhere, he starts to lactate again. the familiar taste from earlier cascades down on your tongue and you suck a bit harder, moaning against his sensitive skin.

the jittery vibrations of your noises makes him groan, awkwardly ruffling your hair. “hah, g- good girl. milk me, that’s it. jus’ like that, keep going.”

and your hips slow down a bit so you can get a good angle. as you come to a brief stop, your body acclimates against him, but even still—you had a lot to get used to, especially with how well he stretched you out.

it’s pouring out a lot now, a bit of it starts to dribble down your chin and he just watches.

his cock twitches at the sight and you feel it from the inside. both bodies move rhythmically against each other and it feels like momentarily bliss.

your hand still has itself occupied between your thighs, playing with yourself to quicken your release.

it was right there, right at the tip of your tongue. sukuna moves a few strands of hair out of your face as you sucked against each pec. as he silently watches, if you squint you could see heart eyes forming in his pupils.

his nipples had so many nerves - so many nerves that he felt.

“god,” he curses, his thigh starting to bounce. you both were close, so so close.

sukuna feels his body temperature grow hotter the more your tongue whisks against each tender nub. it spills down the crevices of your lips. again, he’s just thinking how such a thing was even possible. you were so unapologetically messy too, he used a thumb to swipe the milky dripping substance away from the fissures of your plump lips.

you moaned, the stimulation of your cunt adequately sucking him dry continuously making you more and more aroused.

leisurely, an unpredictable wave of electricity prepares itself as you’re rutting into him on constant repeat. your unsteady rhythm had his jaw locked and he could barely utter out any final words at the moment because your pussy had him so utterly drunk.

the epitome of pussy drunk,

you finish first and it’s like you were shooting actual blanks.

your mind goes dimwitted as you’re gushing all over his cock, covering him in your obscene filth. “fuck, fuck,” you whimper out in a whine of individual babbles and doing so, your hips pick up again its recent speed. just for a moment. he groans at the skin against skin contact, throwing his head back and his adam’s apple bobs. it’s such a sight, you throbbed right between your legs.

sukuna crudely spanks your ass, his palm leaving a temporary sting before he squeezes it, admiring the precious recoil.

it takes you a second to realize you’re squirting. you were already dumb, but once you’re finally succumbing to pleasure, your mouth opens. “oh my goddd.” you elongate your moans, dragging out your sweet melodic words. your walls were preparing to wring him dry. from the inside—they cling onto him tight like velcro, you were attached and there was no pulling you off.

as you moan out your final vehement whines, you go back to sucking on his tender nipples and now . . . it was his turn.

“y’ jus’ squirt all over me ‘n ya still haven’t had enough,” he whews, his cock repeatedly and rigorously punctuating each single thrust. there’s a ringing in his ears, it’s loud and deafening. sukuna’s eyes grow droopy at the mere feeling and repetitive sounds of skin slap slap slapping every few seconds.

“ ‘m gonna cum—” and he pauses, gingerly pulling your head up so you can face him directly. your hips start to slow down again but it’s still got somewhat of a fair pace. with his bottom lip poking out, he’s still pouting visibly. “oi, brat. i- i can finish inside, huh? wanna fill you up. ‘m burnin’ up, fuck.”

you give him a nod, savoring his frosted taste that’s still remaining to drizzle onto your tongue.“mhm,” and as you’re still very much sensitive yourself, you slowly jerk back and forth despite how your pace wasn’t as fast as it was before.

“fuck, ‘m gonna give you so much,” he grunts, dewy lips mashing together as he spoke. he was so full and yet he had so much to give. sukuna feels himself grow inside you from each pump, he’s so thick that you’re just wholly tongue-tied.

the muscles in his abs tense and tighten before he grabs the fat of your ass with a single bare hand. “shit shit, take it all. take it all please.”

and at his feeble pulse, the moment finally comes where he shoots inside.

sukuna collapses back into his throne, bringing an arm hand toward himself to cover a broad hand over his face.

he grunts lowly into his palm and its sexy, his posture was so lazy and yet he was still so pent up. your limbs were just as limp as his, weak and defeated. a decent load of cum oozes into you raw and you gasp whilst his perky nipple was still in your mouth.

coincidentally enough, as he’s cumming—he ends up lactating at the same time too. more of his creamy substance pours onto your tongue while he’s pumping you full of satiny fresh ropes of sultry hot cum. it’s carnal.

you moan, losing yourself in such pungent nirvana as his taste suddenly turns sweeter.

sukuna was milked out entirely. he’s squeezing against your ass even tighter as he’s dumping such massive loads into your needy cunt. it was goopy—strings and strings of his cum tangle with your slick juices and you only imagined what it looked like up close. your hips moderately slow all the way until you’re just barely grinding against him now.

panting, you find yourself tracing the outline of his ancient tattoo markings with the tip of your finger.

your touch, by this point he was gonna cum again.

it’s a lot. actually, saying it was a lot was a bit of an understatement.

you don’t register how much he’s flooded into your pussy until you finally pry your mouth away from his chest, looking down at the impure sight.

so much, your entrance was filled to the very brim with such a nice amount, sweltering from the outside of your folds.

“you’re really sensitive,” you breathe, numbing thighs of your own gluing together against him. you didn’t want to move because it would spill out but it did anyway. a few wads of creamy ropes dribble down your swollen slit and you watch, scrapping a bit of it up with your thumb. “mmm,” you coo out, shoving and smearing the sticky strands of filth back inside. you felt so full, you don’t think you’ve ever felt more stuffed. the base of his cock was gummed with your slick along with a concoction of his own miry mess.

as you’re still trying to recollect breaths, you plant a kiss near the corner of his lips, watching it twitch at your touch. “my lord, you did so good. i didn’t think you’d cum from just getting milked.”

“s- sukuna,” he whines out his name as a form of correction. doing so, you lean into his touch once he cups your chin for the nth time.

his hold on you was always gentle—he’s got the most neediest look in his eyes, longing for you to continue to ‘aid’ him of his problem.

you worn him out— not only that but you milked him for all he was worth and yet he was still cumming.

“jus’ call me sukuna,” and your heart flutters at the sudden privilege. you’re still straddling him, keeping his cock warm before he leans in for a kiss.

you thought it was a kiss but instead, he inches his face toward your chin before lolling out his long forked tongue, licking the remaining excess milk that was running down your chin from earlier. “call me sukuna, mistress . . please.”

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hcneymooners · 24 days ago

Text

⋆ beg until i'm in.

ambessa x wife!reader. men and minors dni.

synopsis: you and ambessa are estranged wives, but are you really estranged if she refuses to divorce you, and every time you see each other, you can't help but fall into bed?

cw: light angst, emotional hurt/comfort, getting back together, top ambessa medarda, dom/sub, dom ambessa medarda, she has soft spot for you, pleasure dom ambessaaaaa, just for you though, strapping, rough sex, rough body play, hair-pulling, name-calling, pet names, lesbian sex, dildos, vaginal sex, cunnilingus, overstimulation, she is strapping you down, you will not be walking, cock worship, blow jobs, the strap is the cock in question no men i swear to god, mommy kink, praise kink, mating press, age difference, older woman/younger woman, marriage, she does not play about you, realizing this might have slight primal play, orgasm edging, begging, spanking, impact play notes: i am a FREAK about this woman. also i wrote this for @sheloveschai because she has been bringing me joy through their work and i want to do the same.

“she thinks i’m a monster.”

the words hung in the air, dense as the afternoon heat, heavy as ambessa’s head in your lap. how you’d ended up here—her armor gone, her weight so familiar—felt like one of those moments you’d look back on, trying to pin down the thread that led you here. you couldn’t.

your lives were separate. estranged wives, that’s what you told yourself. she wouldn’t divorce you, and you weren’t exactly rushing to draw up the papers. but estrangement was such a tidy, convenient word like the absence between you both was clean and intentional. it wasn’t. she blurred the edges every time she showed up unannounced, stepping into the space she left behind like it still belonged to her. and maybe it did.

she came today, her arrival marked by the low hum of her car pulling up the dirt road. the ranch was still, caught in that honeyed pause between afternoon and evening. the house she’d bought for you sat perched on its patch of green, neat but unpretentious—a porch for watching storms, white siding that seemed to glow in the late sun. the kind of place that felt like it had existed long before you arrived, waiting for someone to live in it properly. around it, the land stretched wide, unbroken except for the fences hemming in the garden you’d built with your own hands.

you were out there, barefoot and stubborn, locked in a battle with the soil. a carrot clung to the earth like it had something to prove, your hair slipping from its tie as you yanked at it, dirt smudged across your face from an earlier showdown with a deer that had dared to challenge your lettuce. the dress you wore—white, soft, and loose—shifted around you like a second skin, its ruffled straps falling to kiss your shoulders. it was stained at the hem, caught on brambles, but it moved with you, romantic in its simplicity, something that could’ve been borrowed from another life.

ambessa watched from the car. you didn’t notice her at first, too busy flailing after some audacious bit of wildlife, but she noticed you. her eyes followed the sway of your dress, the way the sun painted gold onto your skin, how your body moved with a kind of rawness that had always undone her. she waited because ambessa always waited. but there was a tension to it, like watching something she didn’t want to admit she needed.

hours later, she was here, sprawled in your lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. her hand rested against the fabric of your dress, her breathing slow but uneven. you stroked her hair without thinking, staring out at the horizon. the horses were grazing, lazy against the emerald sprawl. the ranch, her gift, felt heavier than it had in a while.

“at one point in time,” you said finally, the words tasting of truth, “every daughter views her mother as her monster.”

her hand stilled. you could feel her thoughts shifting, coiling like a tide just out of reach. she didn’t say anything, but the silence was loud, charged. you didn’t press her.

“you were always so hard on yourself,” you continued, your voice quiet but steady. “you can be… strong, stubborn, cruel. i’ve felt it. i know it. so much of your decision-making is absolute like the world is this black-and-white chessboard you’re determined to win on. there’s no room for anyone else in that kind of thinking. it can be stifling. but—” you hesitated, fingers idly brushing the hem of your dress as you tried to hold her gaze.

“love is always the basis when it comes to the people you care about: mel, kino—”

“you,” she interjected softly, her voice barely audible but so certain it almost startled you.

you hummed in agreement, the corners of your mouth tugging into an easy smile.

“me,” you admitted, your chest tightening at the confession. you sighed, the sound carrying years of ache. “your problem is that you don’t believe we can love you back. not really. you think we can’t be safe with you. so you send us away, like that’s protecting us. you decide things for us—these big, sweeping decisions—and suddenly we’re standing outside looking in, strangers in our own lives with you.”

you paused, thinking of her daughter. “mel’s a teenager. she’s going to buck against you because that’s what teenagers do. you have to let her. you can’t control everything, ambessa. we don’t learn any other way.”

ambessa watched you, her face unreadable but her eyes dark and intent. her voice was indescribably tender when she spoke.

“you’re such a wonderful stepmother.”

the word made you scoff. you pushed her—gently but firmly—off your lap and rose to your feet. she let you, though her eyes lingered on you. she could never let go entirely.

“don’t let her hear you say that,” you muttered, shaking your head.

mel had not taken your marriage to her mother well. and really, who could blame her? you were more than half ambessa’s age. you’d once been mel’s peer at university, brushing shoulders in the same circles without a clue that your lives would one day intertwine like this. to make matters worse, mel hadn’t even learned of the relationship from her mother or you. no, she’d found out by walking in on the two of you in a position that still made your cheeks burn to think about.

what followed was relentless: the icy distance, the sharp words, the careful avoidance. love, for you, had always been hard, but this was a different kind of difficulty. you’d tried to explain yourself to mel, fumbling for words that didn’t sound hollow. you told her you loved her mother simply because you did. it wasn’t about their wealth or their influence. you’d come from nothing—a small town with a crumbling church, miles of barren land, and a quiet resignation to a life of struggle. you were used to living hard and mean, to fending for yourself.

but ambessa… she had swept into your life with the force of a storm. she needled at you, chipped away at your shell until you were belly-up and tender, soft between her teeth. you were an easy kill in her hunt, and she was ruthless, selfish, and she could be so fucking mean. but none of that mattered.

you loved her with the kind of blind devotion that defied reason, and you couldn’t imagine doing anything else. being her wife was your greatest pride, and tending to her was your guiltiest pleasure.

mel couldn’t understand that, and the rift between you grew wider with each passing day. then came the public’s growing animosity toward the medarda family, the rising tensions, and ambessa made one of her absolute decisions. the separation blindsided you. you’d cried so hard you blacked out in the hall, and when you woke, you left without looking back. you thought mel wouldn’t care.

which is why you were shocked when ambessa brought you mel’s request for your perspective.

you turned toward the stove, busying yourself with the rhythm of dinner prep. it was easier to focus on the small, manageable things—chopping vegetables, lighting the flame—than to meet her gaze.

“she doesn’t hate you, [name],” ambessa said suddenly, her voice calm but insistent.

you froze, the knife hovering mid-air before you carefully set it down and turned on the stove.

“you staying for dinner?” you asked carefully.

you heard her shift behind you, felt the warmth of her body as she closed the space between you. her arms circled your waist, firm but gentle, and you shivered, instinctively leaning into her. god knows you were never the strongest soldier. she pressed a kiss to your temple, her lips lingering just long enough to make you melt.

“i admit,” she murmured, her voice low and quiet, “i had other motives for coming here.”

“bessa,” you began.

ambessa held you tighter, her lips brushing against your temple, the warmth of her breath sending shivers down your spine. her silence stretched just long enough for you to grow uneasy, but then she spoke, her voice low and thick with emotion.

“they’ve been asking for you,” she said, her hands smoothing over your waist.

you stiffened slightly, unsure if you’d heard her correctly.

“who?”

“mel. kino.” she pressed another kiss to your temple, then let her forehead rest against the side of your head. “they’ve been pleading with me to bring you back. they won’t admit it outright—god forbid they ever say they were wrong—”

you shot her a look.

“—but they’ve missed you. and they hate the way i’ve been without you. they say i’m different when you’re there.”

your breath hitched, your chest tightening with a mix of disbelief and something dangerously close to hope.

“they don’t even like me,” you murmured, your voice cracking.

“that’s not true.” ambessa’s tone softened, her grip on you tightening like she was afraid you might slip away. “they’re too proud to say it, but they’ve developed a soft spot for you despite everything. they miss you as much as i do.”

you turned your head slightly, just enough to catch the edge of her expression—open, raw, and devastatingly honest. by instinct, you lifted a hand and cradled her face. you hated it when she was sad.

“oh, bessa.”

“i’ve realized,” she continued, her voice dropping to a near whisper, “that i am nothing without you. i thought i was protecting you by letting you go, but i was wrong. i’m tired, my love. tired of waking up alone. tired of pretending i don’t need you. i do. god, i do.”

you felt a weight lift from the depths of your body. you’d waited so long to hear this—to feel wanted, needed, like you weren’t just a fleeting chapter in her life. tears welled up, and before you could stop them, they spilled over, hot and fat.

ambessa turned you in her arms, her hands coming up to cup your face as you began to cry in earnest.

“oh, sweetheart,” she murmured, her thumbs brushing away your tears. “don’t cry. please don’t cry.”

“i don’t want to do this anymore,” you choked out between sobs, clutching at her arms like she was the only thing keeping you upright. you pressed down on the thick cords of muscle, pleading with the strength of your grip. “i don’t want the house or any of this shit. i’m so tired of taking care of myself, ambessa. i just want to come home.”

her expression crumpled, and for a moment, you saw a vulnerability in her that she rarely let show.

“i’m sorry,” she said, her voice tight. “i’m so sorry, my love. i never should have let you go. i’ll make it right—i swear to you. i’ll spoil you, take care of you, and keep you forever. you’re mine, [name], and i’ll never let you forget it again.”

you sobbed harder, your face burying into her chest as her arms enveloped you completely.

“i know, baby. you did so well. i’m so proud of you,” she murmured.

she continued to whisper soft reassurances, mantras of “sweetheart,” “my sweet girl,” and “my sweet baby,” until the tears slowed and your breathing evened out. you shuddered against her, refusing to remove yourself from where you were pressed tightly against her chest. she shifted, and you jolted—fingers splaying desperately across her body.

“shh. i’m just making us more comfortable,” she told you.

the two of you moved, a single weeping entity across the floor of the kitchen into the living room. ambessa settled you on the couch, continuing to trace a hand across the landscape of your back.

“come back with me,” she murmured, her lips brushing against your hair. “let me take care of you. let me love you the way you deserve, hmm?”

you nodded against her, your hands clutching at the fabric of her shirt like a lifeline.

“that's all i want. i never stopped loving you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“i know,” she said, tilting your face up to hers.

the kiss she gave you was desperate and all-consuming, a culmination of every time you had woken and found yourself alone. her hands roamed over your hips and your waist, pulling you closer as if the space between you was unbearable. you gasped into her mouth, and she deepened the kiss.

“i’ve missed you,” she murmured against your lips, her voice low, rough with hunger. “did you miss me?”

you shivered, your body instinctively pressing into hers.

“yes. yes, i did. i swear, bessa,” you insisted, your voice trembling.

“shh, my love,” she said, her lips trailing down your jaw to your neck to soothe you. “i believe you. a sweet girl like you wouldn’t lie to me.”

with a groan, she lifted you, guiding you toward the bedroom, her hands never straying from your body, her kisses growing more frantic. when your back hit the bed, she hovered over you, her gaze dark, possessive. a hand came down to cup your cunt, firm and promising.

“yes or no?” she asked.

she only asked out of respect. ambessa had long ago perfected the art of taking what she wanted. you found you didn’t mind. it was easier this way, surrendering to her because she knew your body—your needs—better than you ever could. in her hands, the pressure of choice vanished. you trusted her to always know what was best.

suddenly, you were reminded of when she proposed. you felt the same now as you had then—wide-eyed, carnivorous. gently, you pulled her closer, brushing your lips against hers. the room smelled of apple blossoms and her intoxicating scent.

“yes,” you whispered, your voice barely a breath.

satisfied, she lowered her mouth back to your neck. at that moment, you could have mistaken her for a vampire—hunting for your pulse, for that line of forever-promised blood.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

“ambessa.”

“hmm?” she answered, her hand tightening where it reigned on the nape of your neck.

she had you face down with your ass up, her other hand holding you at the small of your back as she thrust into you. you let out a high moan as she began to move faster, her cock moving deeper as you bore down on her.

“you feel so fucking good, sweetheart. so tight and sweet for me. it’s almost as if you haven’t been touched in a long while.”

“bessa—” you choked out, and she let out a laugh.

“oh, baby. i know that’s not true.” bending forward to brace herself on the bed, she began to pump into you. “you were always so hungry for it, so eager. i know you’ve probably stuffed yourself every single night since i’ve been gone.”

you whimpered, drool beginning to spill from your lips.

“but it didn’t feel like this, did it?”

“no,” you answered, squealing as ambessa brought a hand down on your ass. “no, baby. i can’t take care of myself like you do.”

“no,” she agreed. “you can’t. you just get so stupid when you’re fucked. you have no chance of doing this alone. not well, at least.”

“bessa, please,” you mewled.

with a bored sigh, she tightened her grip around your band of hair and yanked your head back, pounding into you with predatorial precision. you moaned as she began to focus on your g-spot, pulling your head back roughly to further increase her control.

“shit, bessa. fuuuuuck.”

“yeah?”

all thoughts were being fucked out of your head. you managed to get a hand on your clit, rubbing furiously to add stimulation.

“uh, uh, uh. oh, fuck. holy shit. ambessa, fuck. please, baby. please don’t stop.”

for a moment, she paused, and you remembered how cruel she could be. tenderly, she turned you over on your back and slid back in, placing your hands on the back of your thighs so that you were holding yourself open. with a grunt, she sunk deep until her hips were once again clapping against your ass.

a strong hand came down, fingers hooking into your mouth and tugging till she could see your teeth. you felt like an animal.

“stop fucking talking,” she told you, and you nodded, spit slicking all over your mouth and her fingers. “good girl.”

the praise settled on you, and you moaned weakly. her next thrust hit you like a line of coke. she was pressing into you, working for something. you weren’t sure what, but you could feel the way she was aiming to break you in.

“come on,” she murmured, retracting her fingers to grope roughly at your tits. “say it.”

your brow furrowed, and she came to a slow, gradual stop. sliding out, ambessa crawled onto the bed and placed a hand on your chest. you watched her, eyes large and glittering with tears. her breasts hung heavy over you, ripe and full with age. you wanted to suck and bite her nipples till she was shaking on the bridge of your nose, pussy-deep into your throat.

carefully, she slipped the holster from her hips and removed the girthy dildo from where it sat, slick with your heat and arousal.

“maybe this will jog your memory,” she said, and you didn’t have a moment to think before her cock was in your mouth.

you choked loudly, but she paid you no mind. with a few circular motions of her wrist, she made you deepthroat every inch, her eyes darkening as you audibly gagged and sucked on it. you ran your tongue over the artificial veins, getting it as wet as possible.

you were tasting yourself, strawberry sweet with a hint of bitterness and slight musk. you could feel your cunt pulsing, fluttering as ambessa’s eyes grew darker. she prohibited you from letting your legs down, and your thighs were burning, sweat garnishing your skin with a light sheen.

you felt so exposed, so debased like this: holding yourself wide and open while gagging like a well-trained whore on the toy.

“remember now?” she asked, and you breathed hard through your nose.

you were trying, bless you, to remember, and she dropped a kiss on your cunt for the effort.

“look at this pussy, sweetheart. fuck, baby.” ambessa lifted from where she’d been dragging her free hand through your folds. her fingers were soaked. “you’re rinsing me.”

something about her tone jogged your memory, and suddenly, you knew what she wanted to hear. in your excitement, you whined, and she met your gaze. she considered you and then removed her cock from your mouth.

“mommy,” you breathed, and she smiled, her face warm and rivaling the sun.

“that’s it,” she said, pride drenching the words. “good job, sweet girl. you deserve a reward.”

you beamed and wiggled your pussy in silent demand. ambessa laughed at your eagerness, bending to kiss you. her lips trailed lower till she was mouthing over the sopping mound of your count. around and around, her tongue wet, her teeth softly grazing your clit. you snapped upward, letting go of your legs and clutching at her braids instead.

“goddamnit, ambessa! fuck!”

she continued to eat you out, shaking her head and sucking loudly. still, she found time to pinch the inside of your thigh in reprimand.

“that’s not my name, sweet girl. i won’t tell you again.”

“fuck. fuck, i’m sorry. i’m sorry, mommy. just—please.” your voice cleaved in the middle. “please, i need to cum. i want to cum so bad for you, mommy. let me. please just let me—”

with a wet pop, ambessa broke away from your swollen pussy and looked at you. you breathed heavily, eyes caught on the way she gazed at you from between your legs.

“nothing is stopping you, my love. do what pleases you.”

she lowered down again and spat right into your cunt. you let your head fall back.

“i told you,” she said. “i plan to spoil you. this will only be your first.”

and with that, she suctioned her mouth around your rosy pussy and sucked, pointing her tongue and slipping inside of you. you came with a high wail, legs clamping around her head as you bowed over her. you felt light-headed, slit open, and destroyed.

and true to her nature, ambessa never stopped.

#ambessa medarda #arcane ambessa #ambessa x reader #ambessa x you #wlw #sapphic #lesbian #wlw smut #arcane smut #mine ; 🐎.

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raven-dor · 5 months ago

Text

you are my moonlight

In which gwayne hightower meets his future wife, and his timing is most unfortunate

PAIRING: gwayne hightower x reader, alicent hightower x PLATONIC!reader, rhaenyra targaryen x PLATONIC!reader

WARNINGS: fluff, young love, friends fighting, creepy viserys, horrible timing

WORD COUNT: 3.5k

AN: this could be read as a prequel to come back to me, but does NOT have to be read to understand any context!!

The tourney was in full swing, Y/N sitting eagerly on Rhaenyra’s left. The first two matches had finished rather similarly, with Sir Criston Cole being the winner. What the trio was actually waiting for was Prince Daemon’s match. It was all Rhaenyra had talked about for days and the fact that he’d gifted her a necklace of Valyrian steel, a rare and precious token that many in the realm could not afford. Of course, Rhaenyra and her family were the exception, as they were one of two of the only remaining High Valyrian houses left.

The knights of the realm lined up before the Prince, the Master of Revels, announced the man himself. “Prince Daemon of House Targaryen, Prince of the City, will now choose his first opponent.” The prince rode down the line, inspecting each knight briefly. He quickly settled on Alicent’s brother, Ser Gwayne. “For his first challenge, Prince Daemon Targaryen chooses Ser Gwayne Hightower of Oldtown, eldest son of the Hand of the King.”

Alicent grew restless, picking at the skin surrounding her fingers. Y/N wished she could comfort the auburn haired girl herself, but Rhaenyra grabbed her friend's hand quickly, stopping her from further injury. The two men lined up on their respective sides, racing towards each other.

Ser Gwayne released the first blow to the shock of the stands. Y/N beamed, though she did not know why. She hardly knew the knight, only hearing of him through Alicent when she recalled her childhood. The second round was quick, and at the last second, Prince Daemon lowered his joust in front of the horse's legs, causing it to topple over, taking Ser Gwayne with it. She gasped, a hand covering her mouth. She mumbled, knowing Rhaenyra would not stand for any untoward talk of her uncle. “By the seven.”

Ser Gwayne did not move, and Alicent grew more anxious by the second. Y/N reached her hand out, grasping Alicent's briefly. “He will be alright, Alicent, I know it.” The squires lifted him from the ground, walking him over to the medicine tent. He would be transported later to the sept, Y/N assumed. She would have to visit him and keep him company while he recovered.

Prince Daemon approached the Royal apartment, and Rhaenyra instantly approached her uncle. “Nicely done, Uncle.” Alicent and Y/N followed suit, still squeamish from the clearly immoral act.

“Thank you, Princess.” Daemon nodded his head. “Lady Y/N.”

“My Prince.”

He turned to Alicent. “Now, I’m fairly certain I can win these games, Lady Alicent. Having your favor would all but assure it.” Alicent walked away, and Daemon smiled once more at the ward of the crown. “Next tourney, my lady, I shall ask you.”

Y/N laughed. “I look forward to that day, my Prince.”

Alicent returned swiftly, placing her favor on the Prince’s joust. “Good luck, my Prince.” The three girls sat down, waving at the crowd. The tourney had turned sour near after, with three fights breaking out, all ending in death. The knights, who had never seen battle, were bloodthirsty from what she could tell.

Y/N grew nauseous quickly, begging Rhaenyra for pardon so that she did not grow sick. Rushing out of the royal apartment, she decided to visit Ser Gwayne while she still had the nerve. The tent was quiet, with the exception of a few masters concocting ointments. Y/N peaked around the corner, coming face to face with Alicent’s brother. She curtsied, bowing her head. “My lord.” He tried to sit up, but she quickly stopped him. “Please, there is no need to further harm yourself.”

He smiled gratefully. “I must ask for your forgiveness, my lady; I do not remember meeting you.”

“I am Y/N of House Hawthorne. A ward of the crown and a friend of your sister’s.”

“A pleasure, my lady.” He tilted his head. “Has she sent you here then?”

“Alicent remains at the tourney. I-” She blushed, realizing how foolish it sounded. “I saw your joust, and I wanted to see that you were well. For Alicent’s sake.”

He nodded, a smirk growing on his lips. “For Alicent, of course. I must say, I have not heard of House Hawthorne.” She smiled, sitting beside him.

“We are located in the Westerlands, my lord, and are sworn to House Lannister.” She looked closer at his wound, wincing. “Your wound looks rather agitated still. Would you mind if I-”

He shook his head quickly. “Please. I would be most appreciative.”

She stood, sneaking a cloth and an herb she knew caused numbing. Wrapping it carefully, she dipped the cloth in water, tapping it lightly on his skin. “This should numb the pain, for now, my lord. I’ve known this herb to speed the healing process along quite nicely.”

He hummed, closing his eyes. “How did you become so well acquainted with such knowledge?”

“My mother was a trained healer, my lord.”

“Please call me Gwayne.” He peeked through his eyelids, giving her a kind smile. “You’ve all but earned it.”

“Very well, my lo- Gwayne.” She nodded. “If I can call you by your name, it is only fair that you call me by mine.”

He scoffed. “Hardly. That would be highly improper.”

She raised an eyebrow, still delicately tapping the cloth. “Opposed to what you have asked of me?”

He nodded, steadfast. “You are a lady. You should be addressed as such.”

Dipping the cloth back in the water, she laughed. “Hardly.”

“Using my own words against me.” He laughed back. “My, you are a wonder.”

“Y/N?”

She froze, turning around quickly. For some reason Y/N felt guilty, caught even. But seeing Alicent stand at the end of her brother’s bed, her face as pale as the winter snow, made the girl forget her worries. Y/N dropped the cloth in the bowl, rushing to Alicent’s side. “What is it? What’s happened?”

“The Queen. She’s-” Alicent leaned closer, whispering in her friend's ear. “She’s dead.” Y/N gasped.

“I-” Y/N turned back to Gwayne, waving quickly. “It was wonderful to make your acquaintance, my lord.” The two girls rushed off, leaving the knight thoroughly confused.

“Call me-” The girl was out of the tent before he could finish his sentence.

The funeral was a somber affair, as to be expected. Alicent and Y/N stood close by to Rhaenyra, staring at the covered bodies. Syrax, the Princess’s dragon, stood at the top of the hill, waiting for its orders. They stood in silence for the better part of an hour before Prince Daemon whispered in Rhaenyra’s ear, no doubt telling her that she would have to be the one to give the order.

A shiver ran down Y/N’s spine as her friend stepped forward, catching a sob. “D-” Rhaenyra took a deep breath, commanding her dragon. “Dracarys.”

The yellow fury let out a great blast, effectively burning her mother and brother’s corpses. Rhaenyra turned away, unable to look at her deceased loved ones. Soon after, the crowd dissipated, leaving Rhaenyra, Y/N, and Alicent still standing by the sight. Y/N stayed back as Alicent approached their grieving friend.

“My lady.”

Y/N turned, smiling lightly at the Hightower. “My lord.”

“I believe last we met, I asked you to call me by my name.” He smirked. “Or am I mistaken?”

She laughed quietly. “I believe the herb I applied made you hallucinate, my lord. You never said anything of the sort.”

He laughed. “I’m sure you would never lie to me, so I shall take your word for it.”

Y/N looked back at her friends, her heart aching.

“She is an unlucky Princess,” Gwayne muttered.

“Yes, indeed. Losing a parent is never easy.”

“I am sorry.” Y/N turned back to the young knight, confusion etched on her face. “It is just- I assumed that with you being a ward of the crown-”

“You would be correct. But it has been so long, I hardly remember what it was like to have parents.”

He frowned. “That is horrible. I lost my own mother just a year ago.” He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, and she tried to ignore the shock that rang through her body. “It is never easy.”

She shook her head, placing a hand delicately over his. “You are, unfortunately, correct.”

A cough broke the pair apart, Y/N practically jumping at the interruption. “I could use some company on Dragonback.” Rhaenyra practically whispered. “Would you join me?”

“Of course.” She turned back to Gwayne, curtsying quickly. “My lord.”

The two girls walked up the hill, arm in arm. Alicent looked curiously at her brother. “What are you doing?”

He whipped around, laughing at his sister. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I only meant to say, you’ve taken a recent fascination in Y/N.”

“Yes.” He nodded. “And your point?”

Alicent smiled, shaking her head. “Merely a statement, brother.”

The palace gardens were in full bloom this time of year, and Y/N always found comfort in the little corner with a quaint fountain and an outlook of the ocean. Rhaenyra and she frequented this spot often in their youth, and Y/N needed respite from the high tensions at court. She’d been stuck on the same page for what seemed like hours when a voice broke through her focus. “We meet again.” Gwayne bowed his head, grinning much too widely. “My lady.”

Y/N made no effort to stand, raising her eyebrows. “I am beginning to think, my lord, that you have been following me.”

“Not that I am…” He started, sitting at the end of the cushioned chair that she occupied. “But if I was, it might have something to do with the fact that you are still not calling me by my name.”

She laughed. “Is it that simple?”

He nodded. “Quite. But do not worry yourself, I’ll wait.” His eyes sparkled. “My lady.”

Y/N welcomed the challenge; she could sit there for hours, reading and ignoring the handsome knight. She glanced down at her book, ignoring his devilishly handsome smile. “You’ve read that page three times already.” She glared over the top, and he held his hands up in surrender, laughing. “Sorry.”

She looked back down, flipping the page to prove a point. He sighed, standing and walking over to the daisies that bordered the fountain. Picking the fullest one he could find, he stopped in front of the girl, holding it out. “May I?”

“I will not wilt at the sight of you because you are a lord.” She stood, closing her book. “I am not a flower like the thing you hold in your hand.”

He nodded. “You are not.” He raised the daisy, tucking it behind her ear. “You are however, as pretty as one.”

Her cheeks turned pink, and she murmured. “You flatter me, my lord.”

“And why shouldn’t I? One should always flatter a beautiful woman when given the chance.” He smiled. “I believe calling me by my name shall suffice as thanks.”

She scoffed, smacking his chest lightly. “You are quite confident, Gwayne.”

“You’ll find-” He stopped, his smile brightening ten fold. “You said my name.”

Y/N nodded, walking away. “I did.”

He followed after, like a lost puppy. “What shall you do with the rest of your day, I wonder?”

She shrugged. “I do not know, but it will most certainly be out of your presence.”

He gasped, holding his chest. “You hurt my heart when you say such things.”

She laughed, stopping and pretending to check him over. “However will you survive?”

“I think it is terminal my lady.”

“And what affliction have you caught, Ser Gwayne?” Y/N forced a giggle back, trying her hardest to behave seriously.

“Lovesickness.” He sighed. “I’m afraid there is no cure.”

She stepped closer, a pink dusting her cheeks. “I shall mourn you then.”

“Well, I’m sure we could-”

“Y/N!”

Gwayne had never hated the Princess Rhaenyra more in his life than that moment. She was a generally tolerable girl, and a good friend to his sister, but in that moment she stood between him and you, and he wanted nothing more than to tell her to leave. He stepped away from you hesitantly, bowing quickly. “Princess.”

The Targaryen made no effort to hide her humor at the situation. “I apoligize for the intrusion. Alicent and I were about to go to the Sept, and I did not want you to think we left you behind.”

Y/N smiled brightly, waving disapointedly to the knight. “Feel better, my lord.”

Alicent tilted her head, yelling back at her brother. “Better? Are you quite well brother?”

Y/N yet again found herself in the gardens, but this time she was here for the soul purpose of seeing Gwayne. She wore her best dress, had her maid’s put her hair up intricately, and even applied some rouge. Not too much, she wouldn’t want people to think the wrong thing. She was a lady, as Gwayne never ceased to remind her. Sitting carefully on the cushioned chair, she positioned herself towards the entrance, waiting for the familiar mop of auburn hair to peek through. She’d begun to think he wouldn’t show when his familiar tenor broke through the tranquil silence.

“My lady, I thought I would find you here.” She lowered the book, her stomach fluttering when his eyes widened slightly. “You look-”

“Gwayne, I-” They both stopped, laughing at their ill timed words. “It seems that we cannot find a moment of peace.”

He nodded, breaking the distance between them. “I have wanted to tell you something for quite some time now. I cannot seem to summon the words to leave me.” He laughed, but his nerves were evident. “It is just…”

“Yes?” Y/N smiled, hating how nauseous she felt.

“I wanted to say that-”

A loud sob rang through the garden, pulling them out of their haze. Gwayne drew his sword, in case the sob resulted in any trouble. Y/N tried to round the corner before him, but he shook his head, leading her carefully through the hedges.

“Rhaenyra?” Y/N quickly left her place behind Gwayne, rushing to her friends side. “Are you alright?”

“She’s betrayed me. I cannot- I can’t-” The princess looked up, glaring at the knight. “Can we go some place else?”

Y/N nodded, her face visibly disappointed. She walked Rhaenyra out of the gardens, sparing Gwayne one last look, mouthing the words ‘I’m sorry.’

The castle had been throw off it’s axis by the sudden shift within it’s walls. Rhaenyra was no longer speaking to Alicent, which meant Y/N was no longer speaking to Alicent, which meant that the once close knit group of friends were no longer a trio.

It had been that way since they were children, almost ten years ago. Y/N not speaking to Alicent meant she could not speak to Gwayne, or so she assumed. She and Rhaenyra had not talked about it much since the day it was announced, always leaving a sour taste in the Princess’s mouth.

Y/N just wished Rhaenyra could forgive her friend for something she had no control over. The Royal Wedding was tonight, and Rhaenyra had insisted that Y/N walk in with the princess, even though she wasn’t family. When Y/N brought this up, her friend scolded her, saying that ‘My father has insisted, I’m afraid. You are his ward, and he has grown to think of you as his own.’

Now, she sat beside Rhaenyra while the ceremony took place, sneaking glances at the brides brother. Rhaenyra had picked out Y/N's dress herself, saying that she needed something worthy of a princess. She was not one to argue and let the Princess do whatever she wanted as long as she was distracted from the day at hand.

Arm in arm with the Princess, she dreaded when they finally reached the hall and had to congratulate the ‘happy’ couple. Poor Alicent, married at fifteen, was not something she wished on her worst enemy. Especially to a man twenty years your senior. The doors opened wide, the crowd quieting at the sight of the princess and her companion. Among that crowd was Gwayne, staring at her with desperate eyes.

Her cheeks turned pink, quickly breaking the contact. Chatter quickly filled the hall once more as Rhaenyra reached the top of the steps, curtsying quickly. “Congratulations, step-mother. Father.”

Y/N shivered. Rhaenyra's tone was as cold as the Wall. She wanted to curse her friend for making her go after that display. She sunk to the floor, bowing her head. “Many happy returns, My Queen, My King.”

Viserys smiled gratefully. “Thank you Y/N. You have been a loyal friend to my daughter and wife. I shall not forget it.”

The young girl nodded, equally disgusted and horrified at what the king had just said. Surely he realized how immoral it was. “Of course Your Grace. I live to serve and provide assistance to my Princess.”

She released a breath she hadn’t known she was holding, sitting down beside Rhaenyra. “Could you at least have tried to be nice?”

“I was.” The princess raised an eyebrow, and Y/N almost laughed, realizing her friend was being serious.

“Of course. A jest, my lady.”

Rhaenyra laughed. “So formal.”

“We are at a wedding, Rhaenyra. It would be inappropriate for me to call you anything other than my lady, by the court's standards.”

“Well I am the princess, and I say you call me Rhaenyra.”

“Very well.” Y/N smiled, taking a large sip of her wine. “This will be an entertaining night.”

Besides the occasional snide comment thrown at the obviously overwhelmed bride, the night had been otherwise peaceful. Y/N tried her best to sway Rhaenyra from attacking the queen outright, and she’d been successful. So far. She’d been in the middle of listening to Rhaenyra’s adventure of gathering the stolen dragon egg from her uncle when a cough interrupted.

“Excuse me, Princess.” The pair turned around to see Gwayne staring at Y/N not Rhaenyra. Odd. He had addressed Rhaenyra, not her. “May I ask the Lady for a dance?”

Y/N widened her eyes, looking in between the two. She was sure Rhaenyra would say no or burst out in flames from having to talk to Alicent’s brother, but she simply nodded her head, going back to her meal. Gwayne extended his hand, leading her to the dancefloor. He whispered as they moved, keeping in mind the intruding ears that surrounded them. “I have missed your company, my lady.”

“I have missed yours as well.”

“I know much has happened since we last spoke, but it has not deterred me. If anything, it has made me realize that I cannot stand to be apart from you.” Her cheeks turned pink for the second time that night.

“You are very kind, Gwayne.”

“Yes, well, it is not hard when you are the one I compliment.” He shook his head. “I am returning to Old Town soon. In two weeks time, after my sister settles into her new life.”

Her heart fell, eyes watering. “I hope your journey is swift.” She gulped, mumbling. “I shall miss you in truth.”

He tilted his head, smiling. If she were not in a public place, she would admonish him for smiling at her pain. “What I mean to say is, I am infatuated with you. And I would like to seek your hand in marriage. From the king of course.”

She gasped, her eyes widening. “I beg your pardon?”

“I would like to marry you.” He spoke softly, now fully grinning. “If you would have me. You do not have to say yes, but I assure you, your affection for me will grow with time.”

“With time? Gwayne, I-” Y/N whispered so quietly she wasn’t even sure she’d spoken. “I have already grown to admire you. Much more than a friend should. That is no concern of mine.”

“Ah.” The knight nodded. “Well, that settles it then.”

“Settles what?”

“We are to be married.”

“Yes, well…” She sighed. “You cannot propose to me at your sister’s wedding. It would be improper.”

“Damn impropriety.” He hissed, twirling you as the dance required. “Praytell, when would be a proper time then?”

“Any other day, my love.”

He stopped in the middle of the dance floor, her face growing red. “Gwayne people are looking.”

He seemingly did not hear her. “My love.”

“If you are going to tease me-”

“You called me, my love.”

“Gwayne…” She whined, gesturing to the prying eyes. “Can we please leave the floor? People will start to wonder…”

“I desperately want to kiss you.”

Thank the Seven the dance ended then. She bowed quickly. “Thank you for the dance, my lord.” Rushing back to her seat, she stared at the table, shock running through her veins.

“Did he propose then?”

Y/N whipped her head over, glaring at her friend. “You knew?”

“Of course I knew. Y/N, I’ve known he was going to propose since I saw him approach you at my mother’s funeral.”

“Rhaenyra, I’m so sorry.”

“Whatever for?”

“I don’t want you to feel betrayed. I had no intention of-”

“Do not apoligize to me.” She placed her hand in Y/N's. “You are my friend. I am happy for you, truly. He is a good man, he will treat you well. I know it.”

“I haven’t said yes, Rhaenyra.”

“Yet.” Her friend laughed. “You haven’t said yes, yet.”

#game of thrones #house of the dragon #team black #team green #alicent hightower #gwayne hightower #gwayne hightower x reader #rhaenyra targaryen #x reader #fanfiction #got #got fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd #fluff #hotd fluff #literature #🪩! fics

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nsharks · 20 days ago

Text

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part twenty-two —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 5.2k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn’t here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: I'm sorry lmaooo nine months... hopefully we can finish this thing!

"Hold him close to your chest, or he'll jump out of your arms. Here—like this."

Blue gently cradles the rabbit, then carefully tucks him into Ari's arms, guiding his hands to scoop under Grim's fluffy rear. She can't help but find it amusing that the boy who had taken her riding on such a large animal yesterday looks so wary holding a harmless bunny. A giggle bubbles up, and she bites her lip to keep it in.

"He's so... squirmy."

Blue keeps her hand on Grim, reassuring both the rabbit and him. "He's just ready for his breakfast. Want to help me feed him?"

"Sure."

Blue leads Ari to the hutch where the other rabbits are. She explains her morning routine, showing him how to supply the rabbits with enough grass, leaves, and berries to keep them healthy and plump. Not long ago, she was explaining this to Twix—the very person she forgot to say good morning to in a rush to find Ari outside. This time around, she wonders if Ari is genuinely interested or just being polite. She finds herself stealing glances at his face, studying his expressions perhaps longer than she should. His almond-shaped eyes and dark pink lips catch her attention.

He's cute.

It's not the first time the thought has crossed her mind since these strangers appeared. Cute like the men in her magazines, though he's not quite a man. Not in the way Ghost is. But he's taller than her by a head and two years older, evident in the notch on his throat and the deeper timbre of his voice.

But it doesn't matter. They are only here for a few days.

Blue closes the hutch and rocks on the soles of her boots. "Well, that was probably boring, huh? We could, um, go hunting if you want. Or to the pond. It's fun to swim there. Or maybe—" She pauses, mentally sifting through the limited activities available, frustration creeping in as none of them seem particularly impressive.

"This wasn't boring. Now I know rabbits are just as friendly as horses." He smiles.

"They are... except when Grim gets mad. Then he can be a bit of a jerk. Like if you accidentally step on his tail."

"I'd be pretty pissed if someone stepped on my tail, too."

"You don't have a tail."

"It's just a joke."

"Oh..." she fidgets with a strand of hair. "Right."

"The pond sounds good. It is fucking hot." Ari blows out a breath and swipes at the back of his neck.

"I know. So hot. Hot as balls."

Ari raises an amused brow. "Yeah, uh, hot as balls. Are you allowed to go by yourself, or do we need to ask your dad?"

"I get to do what I want," she lies easily with a shrug. "Buuuuut, we can ask Twix to go with us."

As long as Twix is with her, she suspects she can get away with not asking Ghost, who luckily is hunting with his old captain. It's not that he seems distrusting with these people as he did those first few months with Twix. Rather—she isn't thrilled about him knowing every little thing she does. She's never had anything just to herself.

Twix is sitting on the porch, looking rather deep in thought as she skins a squirrel. Her hair is long, curtaining her face. When Blue asks if she wants to go to the pond, she agrees easily, claiming she has been meaning to cut her hair anyway with the encroaching warmth of summer. Nereida joins, too.

Even early, the air is sticky, and the pond is cool and inviting. Ari rips his shirt off and jumps in without even a second to waste. Blue usually swims in her underwear and shirt, but she hesitates with her thumb in the belt loops of her jeans. She didn't consider that he would see her in her underwear.

A soft touch to her shoulder. It's Twix. "Want me to grab you shorts real quick?"

"Um... yes. Yes please."

She changes into the shorts behind a tree. There is an odd pit in her stomach when she gets in the water. She doesn't quite know what it is, but it's similar to how she feels when she's scared sometimes. Ghost always tells her fear is a useless thing. It doesn't keep you alive. So she ignores it, shoves it down deep, and swims over to Ari with a purposeful splash that even wets Twix, who sits at the edge sharpening her knife.

"Damn. That's gonna cost you."

A splash is given in return, and then they are playing. High noon bounces shimmering light off the water as she tries to keep up with him, but at one point he sneaks up on her and she ends up with a mouthful. Nereida spends her time picking at some bunches of rosemary and Twix cuts her hair. But Blue doesn't notice any of that too much. When the water stills and they pause to catch their breath, Ari climbs onto a rock and shakes out his wet hair. She is quick to find a perch beside him. Absentmindedly, she pinches the bottom of her wet shirt to keep it from sticking to her chest.

"Woah. What happened here?"

Ari leans over to tap her thigh.

"Oh—" she looks down at the thick scar, "I got shot there."

"Shit. You've been shot before?"

She nods and he moves his hand. "That's your battle scar."

"Battle scar?"

He smiles, eyes gleaming. "It's nice to have some place to swim so close by. Back at our old camp, there was lake but it was a few miles away, so my mom rarely let me go."

"I'm sorry, you know. About your mom. Mine is dead, too."

He half-smiles. "Thanks. I don't think about it too much anymore. My uncle and I have always been close so it helped to have him there." He nudges her shoulder. "You're damn lucky to have such a cool dad, huh?"

"Ghost?"

"Yeah, that guy is a beast. My uncle says they called him Ghost because no one could ever see him coming before suddenly, they were dead."

"Oh, yeah, he is super cool," she quickly agrees. "He has taught me a lot."

"Shit, really?"

Nibbling the inside of her cheek, she shrugs to feign indifference. "I know how to throw knives pretty well."

"I gotta see that." His smirk etches a light dimple into his cheek. Then, his eyes flash behind her. "So what's up with his girlfriend?"

"Huh?" A divot forms between her brows before she follows his gaze, landing on Twix, whose hair is now just past her shoulders. She is wetting it, running her fingers through the newly cut strands. "Oh—Twix. That is not his girlfriend. She is my friend."

"You mean they don't sleep together?"

"Like in the same bed?"

"That's usually where people fuck, yeah."

He seems ready to laugh. She frowns, head tilting as confusion hums in her chest. "You mean like sex?"

He nods. "You know what that is, right?"

"Yeah, of course. I know all about it."

"You know they're probably doing it, right?"

"Ghost and Twix? No—no," she forces a laugh. "I mean, sometimes I catch him staring at her all weird. But I don't think—I mean, they hardly like each other and she is my friend, really, not his. He used to make me stay away from her, even. But I mean, they do spend a lot of time together now. It's usually to practice fighting and defense. Not to have...sex."

"Don't they share a room?"

"Just right now, because you guys are here."

Ari chuckles. "You really think they aren't fucking in there? She's really pretty. There's no way they aren't."

Blue looks back at Twix. Blue's fingers curl into the soaked fabric of her top. Her eyes flick back to him. "She would've told me if they were."

"If you say so."

Your thumb throbs in rhythm with the steady pump of Kyle's arms. Despite pressing it into your palm to dull the pain, the ache persists. You had nicked it while sawing off your hair, and now the taste of blood lingers in your mouth. You were still lapping at the painful pulse when the three men arrived to the pond, carrying a neon orange inflatable raft. They want to test it out on the water before embarking on the 35-kilometer journey across the channel.

It is the third day of their presence and you can honestly say you've grown more comfortable, given that Kyle has gone hunting with you a few times now. He is easy to talk to, along with Nereida. Price—however—doesn't seem intrigued by you, or maybe you are insignificant in comparison to the rest that is on his mind. That's fair. You don't all need to be friends.

They've been spending most of their time gathering food. Ghost has been helping Price hunt deer to skin and dry into jerky they can take with them. Nereida showed you a patch of wild strawberries she found yesterday, boiling them down into jams before canning them. By having food with them, they will save time from having to hunt along the way. In perfect conditions, it would be a straight path, and they could make it to the Swiss mountains within a month or two. But it won't be a straight path, and obstacles are bound to hinder them.

Kyle audibly growls and straightens, wiping at his percolated brow. "This chamber just isn't inflating."

"It must have a hole somewhere. Check the seams," Price says.

Ghost flips the half-filled raft over with ease, running his fingers along the PVC. "Here." He taps what must be a minuscule puncture because you can't see it from where you sit.

They patch it up with the little adhesive they have. The unease is noticeable as Kyle keeps pumping in air; they only have enough to cover a few holes, if they come across more. Finally, the six-person raft is full and they toss it onto the pond. Just the sight gets you thinking of all the variables they have to think of on the open water: the weather, currents, temperature. You had a friend in high school who swam across it once. She didn't get even halfway but having to pulled out, vomiting, and near-hypothermia. Open seawater is different than a pool. Unpredictable and quick to change.

"It seems sturdy." Nereida winds an arm around her husband's waist, pressing a chaste kiss to the underside of his jaw. "Don't worry about it."

"As long as it stays sturdy."

"It will," she assures him.

The cut has crusted over by the time evening settles and you have to will yourself not to pick at it. You find yourself alone with the horse, watching the sun set behind the trees, as everyone else eats.

"You probably don't like being tied up here, huh? You'd rather be running around." The coarse mane engrosses your fingers. Cherry bobs her head and a wet muzzle brushes your elbow. It tickles and you smile softly. "I wonder what will happen to you once they leave," you whisper. "Horses can't fit in a raft, huh?"

"No, they can't."

A hand presses into her neck beside yours, the person's arm extending over your shoulder. You crane your neck at Kyle but his eyes are on the animal, thoughtful, brows lowered. You wet your lips and step to the side to bring more space between your bodies.

"Not hungry either?" you ask.

Finally he looks at you, lips quirked at the side. "Nah. I had a big lunch." He stops petting her and crosses his arms, chin tilting. "Ever ridden a horse before?"

"Once or twice. As a kid."

His eyes almost lean dark green in the cast of orange light, but it must be a mere illusion. "Care to go for a ride?"

His eyebrow rises expectantly. You glance back at the cabin and then at Cherry. "Why not?"

He instructs you how to get on. You grip the knob of the saddle and flex your core, hoisting yourself with more strength than you've had to use in a few days. Kyle sits behind you and grips the reins after untying her. The last time you were on a horse was for a friend's birthday party; you trekked through a ranch on a white pony. Cherry is much taller than that one was, or maybe you're not fond of being so high up. You thread your fingers through her mane.

It is a silent ride at first as you try to ignore the sting on your butt, unused to firm leather seat. He must notice your discomfort because he tells you to relax and lean back. You do, until your spine brushes against his chest. It helps a little.

Cherry trots calmly through the trees, towards the circle of stumps that marks the east.

"Do you think she will be able to take care of herself?" you break the quiet.

"I'm sure she will be fine. Smart girl, huh, Cherry?"

The sun has disappeared but it isn't quite dark yet. "Are you scared?"

A breathy chuckle emits from behind you. He must realize what you are referring to—scared for the journey. "Yeah, always. I mean—I'm scared about Ari. He's the last family I got, and as old as he thinks he is, he's still young and naive. I still have to make choices for him."

"I was terrified of losing Joseph," you admit, and swallow. "He was so young and fragile. It felt like...like trying to keep an egg from cracking when your hands are made of stone. But at least I never had to take him to another country."

"That was your nephew? Joseph?"

You nod.

"Tell me about him."

You rack your brain. "Well, he was seven. And he..." You smile to yourself. "He was the pickiest eater in the world, even when we were all starving. I could not get him to eat meat unless I practically burned it. And he liked to look at bugs. I did, too, when I was young. I used to dig up worms when it rained to show him." He hums a gentle laugh behind you. You find yourself lost in the thought of it for a second. "Sometimes I...I think about how once I die, there will be no one left to remember those little things about him. Then, he will be completely gone, you know?"

You don't know why you're telling him this. You shake your head. "Sorry."

"Don't be. We gotta talk about shit like that or else we'll go crazy."

"I'm pretty sure I'm already crazy."

"Probably." A deer passes to the left and Cherry startles, but he is quick to soothe her with a flick of the reins and a stern—easy. She settles. "Are you scared?" he asks after a moment.

"Of what?"

"Of traveling so far."

"Well, I don't know if Ghost..." you trail off, absorbing the tone of his voice. You stiffen. "Wait, what do you mean?"

"I mean how we're all leaving in a month."

"Wait—stop." You grip his hand over the rein with more force than necessary, urging him to bring Cherry to a halt. You twist your spine and gape at him. "What are you talking about?"

He eyes you with a frown, and rubs his neck. "Shit. I thought he already told you."

"No, he didn't. Tell me," you demand.

He clears his throat. "He, uh, agreed to come this morning, but only if we take another month to prepare and shit. Get his daughter ready, sort things out."

You try not tremble in anger as his words sink in, clenching your hands as your breath picks up. "Take me back," you breathe out, brain racing. "I want to go back now."

The ride back is silent. You feel shaken. Your nail digs deep into the nick on your thumb unthinkingly until there is a smear of blood over your fingers. The others are getting ready for bed when the two of you return, moon bright. You bite your tongue until Ghost leaves to his room, then you follow him, closing the door as gently as you can behind you.

He is halfway through peeling off his socks and stuffing them in his boots when you approach. "What happened to being a man of your word?"

He looks up, resting his palms on his parted knees, looking far too relaxed for your liking.

When he doesn't respond, you add, "You were supposed to tell me. You said you fucking would."

Your voice is low but harsh.

He stands, a calm understanding washing through his eyes. "I was about to tell you."

You throw up your arms but try to stay quiet. "Bullshit. You're just saying that now. You've had all day to tell me."

"I was waiting for the right time."

"You think I can't handle it," you accuse, an ugly snarl on your face. "That I don't deserve to be apart of these conversations even after everything I have done for you, and for her. I saved her life! You get pissed at me for not telling you about stupid things, meanwhile you don't communicate something so important like we are leaving with them in a month to fucking Switzerland. Does Blue know? Or do you keep your own blood in the dark, too?"

He growls quietly and takes hold of your chin, tilting your gaze to his. His touch is firm but far from bruising. "I am not lying to you. I wanted to have a conversation right now, where it could just be us. And no—I haven't told her. How I explain this to my child is not your concern." There is a command in his voice that forces you to calm down some, but your breath is still warm through your nose. He moves his hand to gently thumb a strand of shortened hair off your forehead, staring at it for a second, before gripping your chin again. "There is nothing I think you cannot handle. Now, who told you about this?"

Blotches of red crawl over your cheeks. "It doesn't...it doesn't matter."

He is visibly unsatisfied. He taps his thumb against your chin. "Tell me."

"It was...Kyle," you concede in an exhale. "He assumed I already knew."

His eyes darken. "It wasn't his place to assume."

"He didn't mean to." You reach up to pry his hand off, and he relents, leaving your jaw feeling sore. You rub it. "Why a month?" You try to change the topic.

He takes a deep, steadying breath and looks away, jaw flexing. "She needs time. I want to prepare her for all possible outcomes. I still don't think she is ready, but that doesn't matter. There won't be another opportunity like this in the future. I have to make her ready." He sits down on the edge of the bed and sits his elbows on his thighs, collecting his thoughts before adding, "And the weather is a big factor. Just because we have means to get across the water doesn't mean it will happen safely. The current is most predictable in July and August. We will wait until then."

You mentally sort through everything he is saying, willing yourself not to linger on the fact that you are beyond scared. Scared to leave the place you have finally felt safe in. Scared to clearly be the odd one out again. A tag-along. Everyone else in this group has a loved one looking out for them. You have yourself. You don't know if you have Ghost, really—not when Blue is the one he loves. His allegiance can only go so far.

"Okay," you whisper, more to yourself than to him. "A month, then. What about shelter? The nights will be our most vulnerable."

"We'll look for the safest places for the night. There'd be seven of us, so plenty of eyes to keep watch."

"And what if we run into a horde?"

"Well, we have plenty of ammo now for that." He flicks his eyes up to yours. "Thanks to you."

You nibble your cheek, palming your chest as if to calm your heart.

"A month," he reminds you. "We will account for everything."

"Okay," you say again. There is a tinge of embarrassment over your outburst, but he doesn't seem fazed, as if you hadn't just barged in the room yelling at him. "Okay."

A click of his tongue. "Any more questions?"

"Not...not for now, I guess."

A few silent beats pass. The tension has left the room, leaving you with a wave of fatigue. Ghost must notice because he rises, gesturing to the bed. "Go on, then."

The bed is yours again. Too exhausted to question it, you slip under the quilt, curling into a fetal position by the slanted ceiling. It's best to enjoy the warmth before you're back on the move. A week journeying through the woods was the worst you'd ever endured, barely surviving. Now, it'll be months, or however long it takes to reach the goddamn Swiss mountains.

The light flicks off. There is a groan in the mattress and heady warmth spills over you. Your eyes fly open. "What are you doing?"

"Getting some sleep."

You turn around to see him lying beside you, flat on his back, with his arms crossed behind his head. "Together?"

"Clearly neither of us fancies the floor."

You flush, feeling his firm thigh brush against yours. "Just... keep to your side."

"I'll be a gentleman, if you're worried."

"I'm not," you mumble. "How do you even sleep in that thing, by the way?"

"Like a baby."

"Don't you think it's weird that Kyle has seen you without it and I haven't?"

"Jealousy doesn't suit you, Twix."

"And mental sanity doesn't suit you, Simon."

"Don't recall giving you permission to use that name."

"What, only your old captain gets to use it? How close were the two of you, exactly?"

Teasing him feels better than you're willing to admit.

He grunts. A pillow is thrashed against the side of your face. "Go to sleep."

"Yes, sir," you bite into the pillow.

Your instinct is to flinch closer to the edge, though it is difficult given the small size of the bed and the unnatural size of him. Your knees float off the mattress. Still, his sprawled-out position leaves points of connection. Your back, his elbow. Your feet, his calf. Small touches that do a surprisingly good job at soothing the mess in your brain.

You awake. Warm and rested.

Safe.

Morning light streams in, turning the backs of your eyelids red. Your face nudges forward until your nose brushes against fabric—a shirt. Awareness settles in slowly. Your toes stretch and brush against another set of toes. You realize you’re curled close against someone.

He’s still on his back, his right arm draped across your waist, fingertips resting on your exposed hip. Your breath hitches, and you do your best not to flinch. Your face is nuzzled into his chest, close enough to discern ribs from muscle. His steady breathing and gentle rumbles indicate he’s still asleep. You’re ready to peel yourself away when you notice your leg is on top of his, practically trapping him.

Fuck.

You stay still, devising a plan to extricate yourself without him noticing the position you're in. Then, in one swift motion, you leap up, removing all contact, and breathe hard as if ripped from a nightmare.

His eyes open and he swears. "Jesus. What was that?"

"Just a dream," you lie. "Sorry for waking you."

You jump out of the bed and practically run out before he can say anything; before he can realize how odd it'd be for you to have a dream when you haven't had one since... since staying in his room.

You lock yourself in the bathroom and grip the counter, knuckles whitening in the attempt to erode the feel of his warmth that seems to linger. A lump is forced down your throat as you lean back against the wall and close your eyes for a moment. When they reopen, you look down and lift your shirt, only to find the indent of strong fingertips brandishing your plush hip. Jesus. Your stomach knots and unknots.

"You didn't like that," you whisper to yourself. You brush your thumb over the marks, gently at first, then palming them hard as if to erase them. You drop your shirt and look at the mirror. "You did not like that."

Before someone can stumble upon you talking to yourself, you comb your fingers through tousled strands and slip out. It seems most others are awake. How could you and Ghost have slept so long? Usually, the two of you are up with the sun.

"Hey. Morning," you greet when you spot Blue on the porch, belly down, as she plays checkers with Kyle's nephew. She glances over her shoulder. Something in her bright eyes seems...off, but you can't put your finger on it.

"Hi. Is Ghost up yet?"

"Hm? Oh, uh—not sure. I didn't check, really."

"Okay." She looks back at the game and says nothing else. You feel as though she saw right through you. Or maybe that boy has told her everything. Surely he knows about Ghost's plans? Kyle had to have told him. Maybe that is why Blue seems upset, but like he said, it isn't your place to say anything.

You are itching for a hunt.

It feels urgent, for some reason. Like you want to get out of here before Ghost can be up, too. You find Kyle and he suggests that the two of you take Cherry so you can get go further south where he claims there is a meadow to look for deer. It is difficult to ride with him behind you and a bow on your back, so he wears it for you. You can feel his eyes on the back of your head.

"Awfully quiet this morning. Penny for your thoughts?"

"I talked to him," is what you give. "Last night."

"Ah. How'd that go?"

"It was fine. I mean, I am getting used to the idea."

"That's good. It'll be worth it, you know. Once we get there. Finally get to have a semblance of a normal life."

A normal life. You almost snort at the thought.

The morning grows longer, and not even the haircut can save you from the sweat that gathers. You make it to the meadow after an hour of horseback that leaves your thighs bristling. He helps you down and ties Cherry to a tree. You wade through tall, bright grasses that sway in the humid breeze. It looks vaguely familiar, stirring something in your gut that has your boots frozen for a moment.

Kyle looks back at you, noticing that you've stopped following. "Good?"

"I just—I think I've been here once before. When I was on my own. I came this way." Your eyes scan the surrounding trees, where the meadow feeds into the forest, and an a gnarly oak with distinctive branches catches your eye. "I definitely have been here. I slept in that tree."

You push into the meadow, shaking off the memory. Staying close to Kyle, you listen as he lightly shares memories from the military, careful not to startle any potential deer. He talks about his time in Afghanistan, mentioning that his brother was also there, but at a different base. Kyle didn't even know his brother had died until weeks later because he was out in the field.

"After Afghanistan is when I met Ghost the first time."

"Oh?"

He nods. "He was my lieutenant when I went to Russia. I was scared shitless of him at first. I mean, he had a bit of a reputation and I was only 22."

"He was good at what he did," you say.

"More than that. People said he was up to some shit outside of what he did, but that was just rumors."

You think you spot a streak of gold through the grass, but it is just a stalk of wild wheat. You look back at him. "What do you mean?"

"May have heard a thing or two about him killing a guy off-duty. Of course, unconfirmed, otherwise he wouldn't have been enlisted again."

He killed someone? Like actual murder? You're about to ask more, your mind flashing back to your face pressed against him an hour earlier. Then you spot a deer. Kyle sees it too and motions for you to stay quiet. Your boots are nearly silent as you draw an arrow, squinting to see clearer. There are three deer: an adult female and two fawns. You draw the string and aim for the adult, the easier target.

"I'll get the doe," you whisper.

"Gotcha."

The beady black eyes turn your way, and you hesitate for a moment. There's movement, a flash of grey, and the doe snaps her eyes in another direction. What is she looking at? Your brows furrow, arrow following her gaze, when the answer appears: a Grey launching toward the deer. The three deer run off, and you release the arrow, aiming for the Grey's head instead.

"Motherfucker. Ruined the kill," Kyle mutters.

You weave toward the corpse, surprised to see such a fast one alone, indicating a new infection. The stench is pungent, enveloping you in a thick cloud. You shudder. The Grey writhes, your arrow lodged in its neck instead of its brain. You draw another arrow and aim when a hand suddenly grips your shoulder.

"Twix," Kyle breathes in your ear.

"What?"

You look away from the Grey and follow Kyle's gaze, your eyes widening in horror as you realize the terrible smell isn't from this single creature. It's hundreds. A dark, grey mist that unfurls through the trees. A growing chorus of agony as their tattered bodies collide—some limping, others hurtling forward in a grotesque dance, but all converging on the meadow.

#simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #cod #zombie apocolypse au

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taintandviolent · 7 days ago

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that which terrifies ; Count Orlok x Reader

summary: You're a housemaid who is sent away by her employer to an estate nestled deep in the Carpathian mountains. On the first night, your dreams become very bizarre, and you are no longer so sure of your purpose at the Castle.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 3.7K | female reader, smut, period cunnilingus, vampire coercion, invasion of privacy, scent kink, technically dubious consent and somnophilia (cos Orlok likes to touch when reader is sleeping and it gets a little blurred there), blood mention, decay mention, monsters, vampires,, bloodplay, biting, drinking blood / blood loss, mentions of accents, shadow play (fingering), possession kink.

a/n: I feel like I should apologize in advance because this one feels weirder than my last one. again, you either get it you don't. nevertheless, I hope it is as good! thank you for reading if you do!!! MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR NOSFERATU 2024! banner by @/strangergraphics!

↓ full fic under cut! ↓ / playlist here / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

With a sharp crack of a whip and a high-pitched whinny, you are alone.

It’s snowing when you arrive. You look back down the pathway, unable to see the carriage any longer; the flurries obscure your vision. The coach that brought you to the looming doors of the entrance is long gone, as is the safety of it. The only sound that can be heard amongst the deafening silence of snow is the fading squeak of hinges and the clip clop of the horses’ hooves as they return home, wherever that may be… far away from this dreadful castle. As you gaze skywards, looking up at the castle, you wrap your shawl around your frail shoulders, shuddering. There is something that roils in your stomach like a malady, twisting and turning your insides until they ache so. Foreboding…

You had been sent here by your employer, a ruthless man who lacked any empathy, only possessed an insatiable greed for fortune. He had requested that you be sent away, to tend to a man who resided deep in the Carpathian Mountains. He had a large estate – a castle in every sense of the word – and needed it maintained. Your darling mother fretted the entire night, feeling as though it was an unwise and dangerous proposition; a young, unmarried woman going into the dark and cursed woods of Transylvania, forced so under the pretenses of mere employment. Though, you had been promised riches. This man, Count Orlok, would reward you handsomely for your duties. Or so it was said.

At first glance, the looming castle provides no welcome, nor does it beckon you inside. Though, the longer you stare, shivering in the snow like a lost child, the more inviting it becomes. As fearsome and ominous as it is, you know that within those stone walls, lies a comfort, a warmth of some kind. Another person to provide company.

With footsteps crunching down into the snow, you approach the doors. Your fist raises to the doors, poised to knock as hard as you can to alert the occupant that you’ve arrived. As you do, your knuckles pounding against the wood but once, both the doors swing open slowly, revealing a grand, but barren, courtyard. White blankets everything, obscuring any foliage that might have greeted you.

“Hello?” Your voice is swallowed up by the snow.

All at once, you hear scampering beside you, accompanied by a huff of breath from something and quickly pivot around, clutching your breast. When you turn back around, you’re met with a startling visual; a tall, intriguing silhouette, stands near another entryway. He’s stock still, the only movement is that of the furs that he wears, which blow delicately in the wind. After a moment, he turns, and disappears into another open door.

“Sir! Please, I beg of thee, wait for me!” Gripping your satchel in one hand and holding your shawl shut with the other, you hurry behind him, praying to get out of the biting cold. He does not wait for you.

Once inside, the castle provides little reprieve. It, too, is bitterly cold; the stone walls have absorbed the chill of the winter and seem to radiate out onto anyone who dares pass by, like long fingers, reaching out to pilfer any warmth that passes.

The staircase is dark, staggeringly so. It curls around a column, trailing ever upwards. He is gone from your line of sight, until you climb the last step, and enter the main room. It is dark, save for a robust fire that consumes the left hand side of the room, drenching it in warmth. Dropping your belongings, you hurry over to it and quickly stretch your palms towards the glow, the heat licking at your frigid fingertips.

Casting your glance over your shoulder, he stands near the table. You hum quietly to yourself, and turn back to the fire.

“Count Orlok…” you start, your voice feeble. You stare at him now, desperately trying to discern his features. Though he is unmoving as he watches you, the shadows which dance across his face obscure him. You swallow. “Pardon my –”

“Thy lord…!” he bellows, startling you. Despite the volume, his voice was low, deeper than any man’s voice. It was almost a growl, carnal and demanding obedience. You dare not defy him, not when he sounds as such. You furrow your brow to the fire, looking deep into the flames to hide your shame.

“My lord,” you started again. “I mean not to offend. I was only going to ask you to pardon my urgency in coming to the fire, I fear I may have caught my death had I been out in the storm any longer.”

“You,” he booms, his voice seeming to vibrate the air around you. He gestures, extending his long fingers towards the table. “...are weak with hunger… eat.”

You glance apprehensively at the expansive feast behind you; fruits, roasted meats, breads. It was enough to satisfy several men. “Are you not… not joining me, my lord? Surely, this is too great for my appetite.”

“…I shall sate myself… later….”

His response serves as nothing but confusion to you, for it is nightfall. Perhaps, you think, you are not accustomed to the habits of the area. You turn your attention back to the table; you are unable to deny the gnawing in your belly, and the enticing aroma of the food calls to your hunger, seducing you with promises of a full stomach, and a delightful, food-induced sleep. You get to your feet and approach one the chair, carefully setting yourself down upon it, smoothing out your petticoats as you do.

Wordlessly, you reach forward, plucking a single piece of fruit from the plate. Its glossy skin glistens underneath the flickering candlelight, and as you bring the succulent fruit to your mouth, its sweet nectar coats your tongue. You hum happily, and savor the taste, rolling it around on your tongue before gnashing it up with your teeth. Next, you reach for the fork that sits at the plate’s edge, and pierce the flesh of a morsel of meat. It’s tender; the prongs of the fork giving way, and the intoxicating aroma of herbs and spices fill your nose.

Though the food is delicious, it does little to distract you from the fact that you’re being watched. The Count sits across from you, his presence an ominous shadow that threatens to swallow you whole. You chew once, twice, and raise your gaze to his. It’s dark and envelops you like an embrace, one you cannot deny.

“My lord,” You say, swallowing the remainder of the meat. “Pray tell, who cooked this delicious meal? I was told that you resided here by thineself, hence your need for a ma–.”

Before you can finish speaking, his words slice through the space between you. “No… more questions. Eat.”

“I was only –”

“Hush now. You are too weary to have such… conversations.”

His words rang true; you were exhausted from the journey and the food was only increasing your fatigue. Now, with a full belly, you felt the first, soothing touches of sleep running its fingers through your tresses, beckoning you closer. You stifle a yawn, not wanting to appear rude in your present company.

“I long to become familiar with you, my lord. I have many questions… but perhaps, I’ll rest…” You say as you wander over to the fire, longing for its warmth once more. You fold yourself to the floor, resting your arms and head on the seat of the ornate wooden chair that sits in front of it. “If only just for a moment.”

With the crackle of the fire lulling you away, it isn’t long before the drowsiness takes you, your form drooping slightly in the chair as you nod off. It is not a restful sleep, however; it is a disturbed slumber, filled with bizarre dreams that feel like waking nightmares.

Shadows claim your body and soul as you sleep, drifting farther and farther away from your consciousness. Slender, phantom fingers graze over your heartbeat, feeling it, tasting it with physical touch, and they graze the fullness of your breasts. Lingering touches chill every inch of your flesh; your neck, between your legs, and along the length of your arms. You dream of being intertwined eternally, though if asked, you couldn’t explain what that meant. Pain, braided with throngs of indescribable pleasure.

You aren’t sure how long you sleep, but awake when the sun’s rays reach through a nearby window. You stretch your limbs as far as they’ll go, the muscles shaking with exertion. Then, unexpectedly, your palm flattens atop a cotton pillowcase, the tips of your toes feel sheets beneath them. A bed. The fire, you think. I fell asleep at the fire. He must’ve carried you to bed in the night – a thought that, while somewhat comforting in its thoughtfulness, concerns you. You remember not the feelings of him cradling you in his arms, carrying you to bed like a groom carrying his bride over the threshold. You remember not the feelings of being tucked in like a child, delicate and small. But you remember your dreams.

Pleasures that capture your sleeping body, controlling it so that you thrash and turn on your bed. Long, slender fingers ghosting over your jawline, desperately twitching to pull your mouth into a bruising kiss. The overwhelming scent of Earth, the irony scent of blood, paired with a sickly scent that you can’t place. Stinging pains as the shadow in your room consumes you. Whispers of promises, of ownership, of eternities. Things that you cannot comprehend, but wish to agree to willingly.

Your eyes open fully, having now adjusted to the light. The realization dawns on you; your lewd dreams had been about your new employer, the mysterious man who had only insisted you eat. Knowing not what time it is, you quickly throw the covers from your form, and get to your feet. You’re still clothed, but the buttons on the front of you are peculiarly undone. Your fingers work fastidiously to redo them, before you cross the small room to the door.

Hurrying down the stairs, you return to the once warm dining room, now flush with sunlight, but still freezing. The fire has burned itself out, and the table remains full of food. The meat has likely spoiled, but the fruit and bread… You eye them both hungrily.

“My lord?” You call out into the emptiness as your heart pounds in your chest, a staccato rhythm against your ribcage. You wait… but nothing comes, no response, nor sound. Satisfied that you are alone, you rush to the table, hurriedly taking up a piece of bread and some of the fruit. You scarf it down in a very unladylike fashion, but no guilt taints your urgency; you’ll need energy to do your duties.

As you chew, you decide to meander some, and still, fail to find the Count. Your exploration yields very little aside from the discovery that this castle looks all but abandoned in the daytime. At night, at least there is a fire in the hearth to tell stories of the living craving warmth, but during the day… It is nothing but emptiness. The castle itself is so vast, so decrepit, that you have a hard time navigating it without feeling like you’re running yourself in circles. Most everything looks the same, and frustratingly, most of the doors are locked, try as you may to enter them. How is one intended to clean if they do not have access?

After several hours of cleaning to the best of your ability; sweeping up leaves and dusting away long abandoned cobwebs that hung in the recesses, you pause to wipe your brow, and in doing so, catch a glimpse of the setting sun. Like an overripe fruit, it hangs heavy atop the silhouette of the castle, and disappears, sinking into the horizon as you watch it. Has it been that long? Or had you originally slept much longer than you’d thought?

Gradually, the castle is submerged in darkness. You hum to yourself, retrieving the rag from the floor and return to the main room. The visual before is laid out as it was the night prior and you are equally as perplexed.

The fire roars once again, and the Count, with his tall, menacing silhouette, stands in front of it. As soon as your foot hits the last step, he turns, gripping his fur coat at the side. His fingers seem to go on forever, only lengthened by his sharp, pointed nails. You bring your hands to your lap, shifting nervously.

“You have been hard at work, I see…”

“I… yes, my lord. Though, most of the rooms are locked. Might I have access –”

“No.” He says lowly, curtly. There is an unsaid warning, discouraging any persistence.

“My lord…” You quiver, fighting against your own nerves. “Might I ask… what is my purpose here then? If not to clean thy castle… why for?”

He is suddenly beside you, his tall frame dwarfing yours. “You will… provide me… company.”

Your heart squeezes within your chest, tight, as though his hand had reached through your skin and gripped it with all his might. The rag drops from your grasp, falling to the stone floor silently.

“I’m afraid I don’t… I don’t understand.”

But you do. You understand that you were sent here under a falsehood, an arrangement disguised as employment. As you recollect, the terms in which you were sent away were very sudden, very demanding and very specific – he had requested a young unmarried woman. You thought it to avoid any incessant mail, perhaps, but realize, the reason is far more personal.

“Fret not,” he says, his fingers reaching up to brush across the warmth of your cheek. They are cold to the touch, frigid even, and you shudder underneath the gesture. His dark eyes suddenly seem to widen, his nostrils flaring. As he inhales sharply, he dips closer to you, his claws reaching towards your clothed hips.

All at once, his long arms wrap around you, seizing you, pulling you into a desperate, hunger-driven embrace. He tastes your flesh, licking from the nape of your neck to the hollow between your full breasts. It is not tender, nor is it heartfelt. It is insatiable, it is dark, yet… your supple frame melts into his grip, allowing him to support your wilting body in his grasp.

You feel the edge of his nails gently caress your body, fingers wrapping around the flesh of your arm with their length. Your lids flutter as his mouth nears your ear, his labored breathing hissing into the tight space between the two of you.

Deep between your legs, an incessant want pools. It is hot, greedy, and coils in your stomach like a venomous serpent. Your lids grow heavy with need. Above you, Orlok nears ever closer, dipping down until the bridge of his nose presses into your sternum. He inhales deeply, as though inhaling your very essence. He makes a sound akin to the low, warning growl of a wolf, though it’s tinged with something far more satisfied.

“That which terrifies you….” his full-bodied voice snarls above you, consuming you. “....pleases you.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you realize what he’s just done, what provoked such a bold claim from his lips. He had smelled your blossoming state, your throbbing arousal and inhaled deep into the confines of his very lungs. No man has ever done such a thing, and the thought leaves you reeling, shuddering in his grip. Because, you know… he is no man.

“My lord,” you whisper. “I… I…”

“Speak,” he urges, his voice thickened with lust, with hunger. You can feel his breath upon your breast, upon the exposed column of your neck. He nears closer.

“I cannot! My words fail me, my lord… I know not what I speak of… what I feel deep within my chest.”

He growls, considering that for a brief moment, before speaking again. “Your body speaks loud enough.”

With your breath catching in your mouth, you quickly utter your next words. “I think I may retire… early this evening, my lord. I feel faint.”

“If you are… unwell, it would be in your best interest to do so.” His words are strung together so laboriously, punctuated by wheezing breaths and his heavy accent. You swallow again, looking up into his unimaginably dark eyes. There is a hunger there, a flash of something that frightens, but moreso, arouses you, and you gasp, turning quickly on your heels, heading back up the nearby steps. “I bid thee goodnight!”

You run down the corridors as though he is pursuing you. Hunting you. And as soon as you are in the safety of the room that he once carried you into, you shut the door, collapsing against the back of it. You pant, trying to make sense of what had just happened, but you cannot ignore the clawing lust that you feel.

You dress yourself in your nightgown, and quickly get into bed, pulling the covers up to your chin as though that is some ward, some protection from the shadows which plague you. As before, it is not long before the warmth carries you off to sleep, the comfort of the bed acting as a tranquilizer for your nerves.

The dreams come again, wrapping themselves around your body and cradling you in their enticing embrace. They are heavy, like the weight of a lover atop of you, and they ghost along your legs, trailing along the curve of your thigh. You whimper, taking fistfuls of the sheets.

“I beg of thee… please…” you murmur, sleepily. Still, it is a call, a beckoning, and the shadow in your dream heeds it. Immediately.

You shift, kicking your legs and thrashing your head to the side, whimpering pitiably in your slumber. The sheets are cold and seem to cling to your thighs, bringing you no comfort and do not free themselves when you move your legs. There is a pressure, a pulling deep between your legs. You whine again, bucking your hips. Against something.

Your eyes snap open, your body jerking with unimaginable arousal. The first thing you see is the ceiling, decorated with shadows and uncertainty. The second thing is that your nightgown is pushed up to your waist, exposing your lower half to the chill of the room. The third, and perhaps the most startling, is that Count Orlok is nestled between your thighs, his lengthy fingers gripping your hips tightly, not fazed by the rocking of them as you feel, feel deeply, what he is doing. He pulls you closer, and you immediately feel his cool tongue as it laps at your center. He swallows loudly, wetly, and you immediately smell the harsh, irony scent of blood. As he gulps, you feel an ungodly pulling sensation, as though the essence is being drained from between your legs.

Realizing, you yelp and push your hips into the mattress, pulling his mouth from your cunt with a slick sound. His mouth chases you, but in the second in which the moonlight hits his angular face, you see that the lower half is coated in blood. You wince, and tighten your grip on the sheets. You had heard stories as a child of a mystical, monstrous creature… strigoi, nosferatu, vampyres… many names for one being you’d never thought you’d meet. And certainly not in this way. But you realize, as his mouth hovers over your core, his cool, wheezing breath washing over you, you do not want him to stop. The nerves, the anxiety, it had all been because his aura had captivated you, called out to you like a beacon in the storm.

“Give thyself to me…”

You nod once, unable to hide your true nature. Your hand drifts to his bare, decaying shoulder, urging him back between your legs. Orlok’s tongue snakes out once again, delving deep into your entrance and lapping up the viscous fluid that leaks from it. You nestle back against the pillow, allowing yourself to feel everything, to drown in the sensations. It is unclean, monstrous but you cannot contain your cries, the lascivious sound echoing off the stone walls. Your hips continue bucking into his mouth, your hand gripping his aged flesh with all the power you have left.

He laps at your cunt, starved for the sanguine nectar mixed with your sweet arousal, and your body quivers and shudders with each pass of his tongue. You feel the sharp points of his fangs grazing your swollen clit, a teasing, dangerous feeling. You dig your nails into his cool flesh, pulling him closer still and you feel that serpent return, coiling around itself until it threatens to burst.

“Pl-please… my lord…! I’m… I feel as though I might…!” But he does not relinquish his feasting, nor does he slow.

Your body seizes up, muscles spasming as your back arches desperately, the fire of your orgasm reaches a peak, crashing over you like waves on a shore. Your hips buck violently up into his greedy, hungering mouth, crying out.

Finally, as the pulsing subsides betwixt your thighs, he is above you, lowering himself down upon your breast. His lithe fingers spread apart the pieces of your nightgown, exposing your skin to his waiting mouth. A white, hot lance of pain erupts over your sternum as his teeth puncture the waiting flesh there, the ache sprawling its stinging tendrils down the length of your arms and to your fingertips.

You gasp, your pupils dilating. The feeling is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced, and you know, unlike anything you’ll ever experience again – a feeling, a craving that only he can sate. The room is filled with your weakening moans and the slick, gulping sound of Orlok as he drinks from you. Your menstruations were not enough, and yet, neither was a singular orgasm. Your hips writhe with a desperate plea, though he is too far buried between your breasts.

A dark cloudiness rings the edge of your vision. No… not sleep. Not now…. I beg of thee…

The world fades from your grasp, like water through thine fingers, the only sensation is that of your skin chilling, paling as he drinks your sweet, warm blood.

“M-my lord…”

#nosferatu x reader #nosferatu x you #count orlok x reader #count orlok x you #nosferatu 2024 #nosferatu #count orlok #vampire x reader #monster x reader #monster x human #vampires #myfics #vampirism #monster fucker #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgård #bill skarsgard fanfiction

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angelic-writer · 9 days ago

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Project Mimicry (Vol 1) - Chapter 1

"In the beginning, God created the heaven and the Earth." - Genesis 1:1

1983

"This is a test. This station is conducting a test of the Emergency Broadcasting System. This is only a test."

A long, screeching noise blared from the old TV. The Markson family had a different program on when they announced the test. It was some cowboy show their dad loved so much. For eleven year old Jade, it made her stomach churn. It was an odd sound, different from the sounds of horses and gunfire that came from the living room while they were doing family worship. It made her want to jump into her mother's arms and pray to Jehovah for the noise to stop.

Her mom, dad and brother were silent as the attention signal droned on. After a minute, it stopped.

"This is a test of the emergency broadcasting system. The broadcasters of your area in voluntary cooperation with federal, state and local authorities have developed this system to keep you informed in the event of an emergency. If this had been an actual emergency, the attention signal you have just heard would have been filed by official information, news or instructions. This station serves the northern Alabama area. This concludes this test of the emergency broadcast system."

Jade fiddled with the pages of her book, trying to think of the right words to say. Her brother, Caleb had resumed work on his drawing, seeming to not care about anything. Her mother let out a small sigh. "I swear, can they not scare the kids like that?"

"Mom..." Jade quietly said. "Why do they send out something like this? What if it hadn't been a test? Are... Are we gonna die?"

Opal got up from her chair and pulled her into her arms. "Oh sweetie, we're not gonna die. Everything's gonna be okay. This whole thing will blow over in no time."

"Well Jade," Opal's husband, Simon, chimed in. "They played the test on our TV because they want to inform us on what's happening. The world is at a very turbulent time at the moment so they are doing their best to keep us informed. If we were actually under attack, we would've been hiding in the basement." He let out a small chuckle.

"Well, what can we do to make it better?" Jade asked.

"Pray to Jehovah, of course. Our safety is his priority and if we pray to him, he'll protect us."

Jade smiled and snuggled into her mother. Jehovah is the only thing she knew. She may not be like the other "worldly" kids, but she didn't need all those material goods. She didn't need to see the latest movie or buy the newest toys. As long as she had her family and Jehovah, she can get through anything.

Caleb let out a soft coo.

"Oh, we didn't forget about you!" Simon lifted him out of his baby chair and gently rocked him. The whole family began to giggle.

This was their life. This was their routine. Jade was determined to be a good older sister to Caleb. And soon, he will be baptized.

-------

December 24th, 1983

"This is an important message from the Crestwood police department. This is not a test. I repeat, this is not a test. The Crestwood police department has issued a Shelter-in-place Warning for the county of Crestwood until further notice. Reports of unknown figures have been confirmed by law enforcement and the Department of Babylonian Crusaders. For your safety, until 5 PM to 6 AM, stay home, lock all doors and windows and, in the event of a break-in, have access to a loaded weapon at all times. Do not call 911 unless you need to report an emergency. The Crestwood police department and the Department of Babylonian Crusaders thanks you for your cooperation.

Stay tuned for a message from the representative of the Department of Babylonian Crusaders."

"Hello. My name is Dr. Lloyd Evans from the Department of Babylonian Crusaders. We have been receiving reports of unknown organisms that we've decided to call mimics. You may have already gotten the alert from the EBS about this phenomenon, but we're here to tell you about what those mimic types are and what you can do to protect yourself.

The first type are the defensive mimics. They are a sub group of mimics that take on the role of a protector when they find a human. Some pose as aggressive mimics to ward off other humans or they deceive humans they perceive as harmful with their harmless look and kill them. Think of it as a predator camouflaging itself in order for them to eat their prey.

There are three types of defensive mimics. There are Batesian, Mullerian and Emsleyan or Mertensian mimics.

Batesian mimics are harmless. They pose as a harmful mimic to ward off anyone they tries to hurt them or their human.

Mullerian mimics are two or more mimics that advertise themselves as harmful to ward off predators. These mimics often work in groups of two or three.

Emsleyan or Mertensian mimics take the form of a less harmful mimic to deceive the predator and kill them.

These ones can be considered safe, but you should still be wary of them. Aggressive mimics are the ones you need to watch out for. Now, aggressive mimics are the type of mimic that pose as humans to kill them. These types use mind games to toy with their victims. If they haven't committed suicide, the mimic will finish the job.

Predators are a mimic group where they take the form of a loved one, deceive them into thinking they are the real person and then use psychological manipulation. Those are the most dangerous types of mimics and we strongly advise to avoid them at all costs.

Parasites are [REDACTED DUE TO SIGNAL GLITCH]

Now, here's what you can do to keep yourself safe. Stay in your homes after 6 PM, lock all windows and doors and keep a loaded weapon with you at all times. In the event of a mimic attack, follow the S.A.F.E. principle.

S - Secure yourself in a room.

A - Access the situation. Learn how the mimic operates.

F - Fire your weapon. If the mimic attacks, do not hesitate. It can mean life or death.

E - If possible, escape. Do not let them win.

We hope this message keeps you safe. We're very sorry for the interruption and we hope you have a Merry Christmas!"

Though this message was broadcasted to most TVs, some of them reported the S part saying something different. According to reports, it said "Surrender yourself to the Lord."

--------

1987

The young man's back was pressed up against the wall. The shotgun he had in his hands had one shell left. The creature that was at his door kept calling out to him in a mockery of his wife's voice.

"Ralphie... Please let me in... I'm sorry for sca-a-a-aring you back there. You know how I am."

His grip tightened. That wasn't her. That wasn't his wife. She was dead. And now, he was going to die too. His eyes started to fill with tears.

Marla... I'm so sorry... I couldn't protect you... I couldn't save you from these things.

The image of his wife sprawled out on the kitchen floor flashed in his mind. Her neck that was gushing blood... He swallowed, trying to hold back his vomit. They had followed the rules. They had done everything the broadcast said. What did they do wrong? They had to have done something wrong for something like this to happen.

He gritted his teeth. Pondering over this won't help him now. Remember the S.A.F.E. principle, Ralph. Remember.

He secured himself in his bedroom, grabbing his shotgun so he could protect himself. He analyzed the situation. The creature, the mimic, was trying to use his wife's voice to lure him out, using his nickname. Ralphie was what she would call him when he came home from work. The way she said it made his heart soar. However, when it said his nickname, it felt like nails on a chalkboard.

The high school sweethearts had moved into the rural Alabama town after they had gotten married in New York. They thought getting away from the bustling city life would help them. They were in the talks of starting a family when the broadcast came on, talking about reports of mimics.

"Talk about bad timing. On Christmas too." Marla had said while bringing out the cookies and milk. "Let's hope Santa gets there okay."

"I hope so too. But hey, look on the bright side. This lockdown will end at 6 AM tomorrow. We've still got time to celebrate, right?"

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Besides, anything's fun with you." She gave him a light peck on the cheek.

A low sob escaped him. There was so much they wanted to do together. So many things they had planned. Their entire life... They were now gone.

Oh Marla... Why did they have to take you? What did we do?

God, please... Please help me.

He wiped his face. No, crying and pleading to some higher being isn't gonna solve anything. I have to survive. I have to live on for Marla! If I can get out of here, I could alert the police.

With a sense of courage taking over, he pointed his shotgun at the door. The mimic had begun to claw at the door, no doubt leaving scratch marks in the wood. "Ralphie... Please... Let me in. It's so cold. My neck hurts. Help..."

"Shut up... You're not her..."

The doorknob rattled.

"You're not her. You're not her! You're not her!!"

There was a sudden loud banging making him jump. "Ralph, open the goddamn door! You'd really leave me out here with these things?! How could you?!" The thing screeched.

"You're! Not! Her! Leave me alone!! You killed her, you monster!! You're not- You're not her!" He screamed, tears streaming down his face. "Just try and get me! I dare you! I'll fucking shoot you if you try anything!"

"Ralph..." His 'wife' had begun to cry. Normally, it would cause him to go over and hug her, but he will not be swayed. What it was doing, it was disgusting. It's desecrating his wife's memory, his image, his everything. The nerve of the creature...

The door flew open, allowing Ralph to see the monster. Though it was hard to see through the darkness, what he could see made him freeze.

Its form was tall and lanky, its arms and legs stretched out to an almost inhuman degree. What little hair it had on its head was beginning to fall off. Its skin was beginning to sag. Ralph could swear he was beginning to see bones. The mimic looked at him with empty eyes yet it pierced his soul with an intense glare. It opened its mouth to speak, but all that came out were rasps and gargles.

Ralph began to shake, his aim wavering as he stared at... He didn't even know what he was seeing. It was human, but at the same time, it was not. It looked like his wife, but it was like looking at a decomposing carcass. The smell... It smelled like rotten eggs left out on the hot sidewalk. Bile threatened to come up his throat, but he held it in.

One shot. He had to make it count. If it failed...

The creature began to laugh. It was the kind of laugh that made you cringe. It was an ear-piercing, gurgling laugh that was like if you tried to imitate a toy clown on its last legs.

Ralph pressed his finger on the trigger. Taking a deep breath, he screamed out.

"I will not let you kill me!!"

The gun went off.

--------

2017

The group of kids stared at the small house as their two older brothers talked to the movers. The smallest one of the bunch hugged her teddy bear. Though leaving their home state of Florida didn't seem like a huge deal at first, Catherine still had her doubts. Sure, they were free from all the hurricanes, but they still had friends there. They still had people they could talk to.

But now, she and her brothers moved to a new town. There was no one she knew there. And there was... an abundance of churches. Lots and lots of churches.

@chibisrpblog

#project mimicry #It's here!! In the flesh!!#Finally!

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red-doll-face · 1 month ago

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Getting caught in the rain with Arthur leads to him finding creative ways to warm you up.

(high honor) arthur morgan x fem. reader

I love this trope! prob been done before but I cant resist... 😔Can you believe I wanted this to be a short head canon post?? LMAO it ended up way longer than that. That's why it has a more casual thing going on despite being super long 🥲Happy thanksgiving! This is for the girlies who are stuck with family and need something absolutely filthy to read !!! 💕💕💕💕💕

Warnings: NSFW content, vaginal sex, while honor isn't too relevant, arthur is very sweet and hes kind of a weenie here, in a good way! arthur does not have bad intentions here, he's genuinely a sweet little man...

Thinking of begging Arthur to take you away from camp for a while. Maybe you haven't had a bath in a bit or you're sick of hearing Swanson drunkenly parade around camp. But you've decided to ask Arthur, he's always so sweet to you and you know he won't say no. And Arthur and his stupid bleeding heart (the one that bleeds so much more for you) grumbles and pretends he's thinking about it but really he'd probably say yes to anything that came from your lips. He has no regrets when he sees the smile you give him. You're hoisted up onto the back of his horse, holding onto his waist so you don't fall. Arthur is desperately trying to play it cool.

Then the rain starts coming down, you're soaked through very quickly and Arthur, such a gentleman, sheds his coat to give it to you, except now he is soaked through as well. The both of you are freezing and he tells you that you have to stop until the weather clears. He’s cussing up a storm worse than the one you're in. You nod, just wanting to be warm, wracked by shivers. He comes up on an abandoned shack and guides you inside, shutting the rain out. You're standing in the center of the room, looking like a wet cat after a miserable bath, Arthur is kind enough to take his coat off of you, giving you a ratty old, moth bitten blanket but it doesn't do much of anything for the cold. Trying to get a fire going proves fruitful but it's a small one and the wind blowing in from the flue almost puts it out several times.

Arthur feels so helpless, sitting there watching your teeth start to chatter as you sit in front of the pathetic little fire. He's trying to apologize (Ah, I’m sorry, I didn't know it was gonna come down like that,) but you only tell him it's not his fault. He has to help, all he wants to do is help. Things aren't getting any better and he doesn't want you to come down with something on account of him being an idiot. And then he gets an idea. He’s red all over flushed at the thought but he knows taking your soaking clothes off would help. And he's standing there, awkwardly, one hand rubbing the back of his neck while he tries to hide under his hat. He’s gently clearing his throat, trying to get your attention.

“Maybe we could try… I…could…” he's nervously stumbling through his words and he's looking at you, sitting on the floor, desperately trying to warm your hands by the fire. You look up to him but he can hardly speak, so enraptured by the look of utter trust, reliance on him. His mouth hangs open but he swallows the lump of spit in his mouth. He tries to shake off these boyish jitters he gets around you. “Uhhh- I mean, it would be better if we weren't sittin’ round in these clothes, I guess, can’t be doin’ you any good...”

“Really, you think so…?” Your voice is quiet and meek, struggling to say anything past the clicking of your teeth and the shivers. “Well then, turn around, Arthur,” at your obvious attempt to be modest, he nods stiffly and turns towards the wall, listening to you take your dress and your underskirts off, landing in a wet plop on the floor. You whine, peeling yourself out of your undergarments before a quiet ok leaves your lips. He turns and you're desperately covering yourself with that dusty blanket, legs bare, fabric hardly long enough to cover the soft mound between your legs, the fat of your inner thighs squished together. Arthur has a hard time keeping his gaze from locking onto any of the inviting bits of skin you show him. You're embarrassed, biting your lip, squeezing your arms around yourself.

“Aren't you gonna- Arthur, you're gonna do it too, right?” Arthur has a hesitant nod and a course even though he just now thought he should probably follow along to help make you more comfortable. He’s removing his hat first, nothing to hide under now and he notices that you watch him take his gun belt off, unfastening his suspenders from his pants. You finally look away, his boots and his pants are peeled off and his shirt is unbuttoned. He’s breathing heavily now, naked as the day he was born. But you won't stop shivering. Your hair is still wet. And the fire is struggling to warm you from the bitter cold that clings to the dusty air. There isn't much left to burn for the fire.

“You want me to hold you?” It's out of his mouth before he can stop it, trying to smack away these thoughts about the glimpses he’s getting of your naked figure underneath the blanket. He swears it's only out of necessity, that you're just not warming up fast enough. “Don’t want you gettin’ sick on me,” He really does only want you comfortable. Unrealistically hoping this won't change what you most likely consider a friendship. You nod, vigorously.

“I think it would be ok, maybe if you just didn’t- didn’t look. Just- don’t look,” and you're desperate, curling up in his lap in front of the wavering fire. You're unable to look at him, but you still rub into him, enjoying how his body warms up a lot faster than yours. And both of you make some excuse that things would be better without that old blanket between you two. And suddenly you're pressed into him, his arms tight around you while he looks at the ceiling to avoid staring at things he shouldn't. Arthur struggles hard to keep from rubbing upwards into you, trying to keep you from sitting directly between his legs, afraid the way his body reacts to the feel of your body will scare you, scandalize you. But you only seem to want to be there more, getting comfortable with him. His chest hair tickles you, the hair creeps all the way down his torso. You giggle softly as it tickles you. His heart beats fast at the feel of you, so soft compared to the roughness of him.

As if all of the blood hasn't already rushed down to the very center of him, you just have to sit squarely on his lap. He tries to readjust you but it's too late and you've felt him, hard as a rock, pushing at you. He's so embarrassed, stumbling over an apology, “Shit-I-I’m sorry, I-” in that surly voice, all rough and low. you gasp and look over your shoulder. You see how he can hardly stand to look at you with his pretty blue gem-toned eyes. Instead he shows you his profile as he turns away.

“It's ok”, Arthur has no idea how he's supposed to look at you after this, he can't see himself looking you in the eyes for a long while after you've felt his cock nudging the swell of your ass, unable to deny his own reaction to you. Hopefully he’ll be able to dismiss it as a fluke and not a devastating hope that you’d be interested in him that he's been crushing down for months now. He's trying to will away the burgeoning desire just under his skin, tamping down fires that rage on. And you look up at him again with that look of trust in your eyes, too ashamed to continue touching you, wholeheartedly convinced you don't like him.

But then you're only closer than you were, looking up at him, so close, he's breathing in your scent, sweet and like fresh summer rain. His eyes search yours for any inclination and all you have to do is put your hand on his prickly cheek for him to lean and kiss you, hands on his broad chest, rushing over the warmth you can feel. How he ends up with you on his lap, tits pressed up against his hairy chest, his big hands squeezing at your hips, he's not too sure. Your arms are over his shoulders, playing with his light brown hair sweetly, rubbing the sore muscles in his back. And the glide of his tongue over yours is heaven, he swears. You whine into his kisses, the heat between the both of you licks over your skin, noses clumsily bumping into each other.

Then he’s on top of you, tucking you over the blanket. “You gotta tell me you want this, want me,” and all you can do is say “Yes, please, Arthur, please,” features showing your ecstasy, anticipating his hands on you.

His hands are rough; petting down your sides. Any worries he had about being too old, too ugly and too brutish for you are forgotten when you kiss him, spread your legs for him to fit between them. When you push your breasts in his hands when he goes to touch them. Your nipples are hard from the cold but his hands start to warm them up when he gropes at them, squeezing languidly at your breasts, grabbing handfuls.

It's not long before he’s pinning your thighs up with his hands, spreading you and licking eagerly between your legs, so selfless. Letting you moan as loud as you like, telling you how good you taste, the roughened pads of his fingers circling at the sensitive button at the top of your slit. And he's so strong, doesn't put much effort into keeping your legs up. He has dulcet praises for you, “Such a pretty girl, darlin’, jus’ beautiful,” making you soften and ease.

He’s so warm, holding you, like you wanted him to, messy kisses that taste like you. The very tip of him catches on you, dipping softly between your folds. Your nails dig into him, thighs clench tight. He's sweet talking to you, shushing you, rubbing hard at the delicate little nub, getting you as wet as possible. Saying how good you look. How he must be dreaming. That’s my girl is what he says when you soak his fingers with your own arousal, heat rising to the apples of your cheeks. Even more when he's working his cock inside of you, panting, he seems overwhelmed, mumbling and groaning praises to you, his sweet girl, perfect in that slow easy voice of his. You feel him carefully easing you open, hissing at the feel of you wrapped tight on him and leaking down his shaft. You can't say much but his name, begging him not to stop, feeling his fingers almost bruise the tender softness of your hips.

Arthur pushes so deep, a growl of pleasure leaking from his lips. You didn't think he would feel so big. Telling him how big he is and feels; “You're so big, Arthur,” in a wispy moan, makes him groan. He just wants to hear how much you like him. The rhythm he was trying to keep slow and careful speeds up. And he doesn't last very long, poor thing. It's been a while for him and he's flushed bright red, embarrassed and feeling a tad emasculated. The disappointed son of a bitch he lets out has you petting his hair back tenderly.

But all you have to do is give him a minute, kiss and nip gently, lock your legs around him so he can't pull away, until he's pushing his own seed deeper, mindlessly pinning you under his weight. He loves feeling so close to you, so small underneath him.

The way you feel clenching down on him, moaning for him, begging him to keep going has him rutting into you, following his instincts, brain feeling like it's melting. He's harder than he has ever been, listening to the sound of your wetness slide on him, the mess he’s left between your thighs sounding dirty and sticky. You don't have to tell him to keep rubbing you, grinding your hips into his so he can press into the perfect spot.

His thumb is rubbing at the very center of you, that tender bud, so sensitive, has you pushed to the edge and falling over, legs locking up behind him, bucking and moaning much too loud. You sink your fingers into the layer of fat over his broad muscles, arching your back, feeling so complete. Seeing you so relaxed, feeling so good because of him makes him push as deep as he can, making your toes curl, forcing more of his cum even deeper, a sloppy wet mess that drips out of you when he pulls out. But he revels in those few moments where he's catching his breath, still so deep inside of you, feeling you pulse on him.

Arthur can’t not hold you afterwards, unsure what to say. He thinks it might be too soon for I love you, maybe you’ll be scared away by his raw sentiments and his lovesick words. But you stare into his eyes; his heart jumps when he blurts it out in the silence, too late to shut his damn mouth. But you only smile and say you love him too. You're the farthest thing from cold, tucked into his chest, not even noticing that the rain has stopped.

Thank you for reading! SO sorry this ended up being so long. Excited to write more for high honor arthur, this was more fun than i thought... I love him 😔😳

#red writes #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan #rdr2 x reader #high honor arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan smut #rdr2 community #high honor arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x fem reader #red dead redemption 2 x reader

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floralscented · 2 months ago

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all the times mechanic!dean was humbled by bimbo!reader - 18+

★ ˚⋆

dean was convinced, a lot of the time, that not a single coherent thought existed in the white noise of your brain, just accepting that you were one of those girls with a pretty face to her legacy. it wasn't a bad thing. he'd never admit it, but seeing your face light up when he explained something to you was one of his favorite looks on you - the glimmering wide eyes, the o-shaped part of your glossy lips as the pieces clicked into place.

other times, he was floored by the capacity of that pretty little head and the information it held. completely floored. you never said anything with malice either, or chastised him for not thinking in the same way that you did. just stated the things like fact, typing away on your pretty pink iphone with your pretty pink manicured nails, not even looking up to see that you'd taken his breath away.

there were a lot more of these instances than he cared to admit. he was a proud, prideful kind of guy, often convinced that it was his way or the highway.

until you came around.

he'd started a list on his phone, of some of those times, cementing them into a vault of your history. maybe he'd show it to you on your wedding or something cheesy like that, that he knew you would love. or maybe he'd keep it to himself, as to not humble himself further.

when you'd called a car's failing engine a "tummy ache", and that was how he figured out that the cause was the owner putting in the wrong gas.

the first time you talked him into trying on your panties, and he'd tried to deny it heavily, and you'd said, "it's just clothes." and it was so simple but he'd never thought of it like that. like holy shit, yeah, it's just clothes.

when you'd tried to hook up with him at his work, in the backseat of his car no less, and dean desperately tried to keep some semblance of professionalism at his job, and you were like "who's gonna see? no one comes here." and he proceeded to fuck you into the leather with, you guessed it; not a single customer to see the fogged windows and the rattling frame.

you got him to start saying things are cunty and that's not even the humbling part. the fact that he could not fucking stop himself from calling everything cunty when you were around was.

when you'd called the stars "little suns" and now every time he looks at the night sky, he can't help but think if you're looking at the little suns too.

he'd been staying late trying to finish a car and you'd gotten upset and told him "who's gonna need their car this late?" and yeah. who the hell was? he made it home in five minutes and made up for his time away.

he told you that one day he'd take you to meet his family and you called them the witch burners with the straightest face he'd ever seen. yeah. they did do that sometimes. but don't say that to their face.

sometimes his old habits would kick in and he'd start doing everything for you, like he did growing up with sammy, and you remind him every time that you were his baby but not his baby.

he joked that you were baby vers. 2, and you'd said, "you can't call everything you park yourself in baby." he started calling you princess immediately after.

he'd grabbed your hair once when you were bent over during sex and you whirled around so fast he honestly thought you were going to kill him. like there was more fear in his eyes then than there was in some of the hunts he did before he retired.

when you insisted in front of his coworkers that, no, you did not want to drive your car if he was there to tote you around already. like, fuck him, honestly, for not assuming you would want to be chauffeured. he was still living that shit down.

"no, dean, i'm not blowing you right now, this is a chanel lip gloss." right. because he was supposed to know what that meant. "i am not wiping chanel off with a paper towel, dean." tell chanel to get off her fucking high horse, thanks!

he tried to be romantic once and put his hand on your thigh while driving and you glanced down with a pout and said, "your filthy oil hands :(" with that exact sad face. he didn't know how else to convey the utter devastation in his typed list without the fucking emoticon. you'd have thought he ran over your baby or something.

notes, guys ... i fear they are rent free rn. something ab grumpy/sunshine in any form is going to do it for me every time.

tags ( if some of these dont work im gonna run up and down the street butt naked on god ) @titsout4nicholas @deans-yn @dipperscavern @devoursweetly @jasvtsc @panickedbitch @t3l3vangelism @jensenacklesfan69 @manicjk @mkendlic @hischrrypie @deanswidow @figthoughts

#──★ dahlia's jrnl #──★ dean x saga #dean winchester x bimbo!reader #jensen ackles #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester headcanons #headcanons #spn #supernatural

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moonlight-prose · 3 months ago

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WONDERING WHY

a/n: this is for the logan promptober hosted by the lovely @silverskyeline! i'm not gonna do the whole list cause i would stress myself out to an insane degree. but a few caught my eye. so i've thrown together some small fics for the man himself in the hopes of scattering them throughout october. this is also late one day cause of well me having a shitty time in life rn. but i hope y'all enjoy!

logan promptober: day six - cowboy

summary: loving logan howlett felt like loving a ghost. he returned when the moon hung low in the sky and his time gave way for freedom. but when you needed him most, he arrived on your doorstep with the promise of giving you exactly what you want.

word count: 3.5k+

pairing: cowboy!old man!logan x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MDNI IT'S 18+ ONLY, romance, love, angst, longing, pining, they're obsessed with each other, filthy kissing, p in v sex, rough sex, spit, choking (sorta), calling the pussy her/she, he's an old man who fucks insanely well, feral old man logan.

Pale moonlight brushed across the Earth with strokes of paint. Stars were sprinkled along the night sky, glimmering in darkness as you leaned against the doorway of your home. The lantern flame flickered with each waft of cool air that breezed past you. Pooling inside where a fire cracked and sparked—offering enough warmth to keep you sated for the remainder of time.

At least until he returned home.

You listened for the familiar clop of hooves, the click of his tongue guiding the horse where to go. Hoping that eventually he’d turn the bend in the dirt road and find his way back to the safety of your shared bed.

This was a routine you knew well—one you found solace in as the days grew short and sunlight became sparse. In summer he often returned when the clock struck midnight; the weariness of a long day spent riding through towns and hunting with others was normal. If a little grueling. Although you never complained. You knew who he was when you met him—understood the ups and downs of what this relationship would be.

Logan wasn’t anything if true to his word right at the start. I’m not gonna be here every day sugar, but I’ll be here when you need me.

Eventually you’d have to blow out the lantern and amble back indoors. Calling it quits on yet another night spent alone. He didn’t like it when you were out past a certain time—raiders and hunters alike were more than willing to break in without remorse. Especially if they didn’t know who resided inside, who shared your bed on nights like tonight.

“I need you,” you sighed, shutting your eyes to the sight of an empty road.

They were empty words of hope strung together to make a wish on whatever star caught your eye. Rarely did they work. Although some nights you wondered if magic twined with your solemn prayer—summoning the man you so desperately wanted. It was wishful thinking, a well full of reverie you continuously drank from. Although maybe it was the poison that would one day cause you to drop dead. Maybe…Logan was a figment of all that you could never have.

He might not even exist.

Your eyes fluttered open, glancing up at the sky with anticipation of a falling star. The echo of hooves along dirt drew your attention from your nightly ritual—curiosity pulling you close and whispering promises of giving you everything you wanted. It was probably a stranger. Someone looking for an easy place to spend the night. Logan always told you to say no with a shotgun in your hands, and your body tensed in preparation to grab for the gun propped near the doorway.

Relief flooded your veins at the sight of a familiar dark brown leather coat, his hat tipped low enough to hide the eyes that loomed beneath—glinting with a darkness you'd only seen once or twice in your time together. Calloused and scarred hands gripped loosley at the reins as the horse trotted up the path—finding it's way home with ease.

There was a pull between the two of you. Insatiable and feral and strong enough to have him searching for you the second he drew closer to the house. Hazel eyes fatigued by the long trip back locked onto your form. Plush skin and curves hidden beneath layers of a dress you had yet to strip off.

You would leave that to him, knowing how much he enjoyed tugging at the strings of your corset—undoing the buttons to set you free.

"Gonna catch your fuckin' death," he muttered, his boots hitting the ground with a dull thud. You relished the sound, unable to stop your smile.

"I was waiting for you."

He huffed, wrapped the reins around the wooden fence he built steadily over the years—the leather bag on his saddle now strapped over his wide shoulder. "Shouldn't be waitin' on a man like me sugar."

"You always say that."

"And I'm always right."

"Would you prefer I wait on someone else?" you inquired, a challenge glinting in your eyes.

He bit back a growl, hand settling on your hip to drag you to the edge of the front step as he stepped to the one below. "Are you tryin' to tell me somethin'?"

The possession in his eyes made your heart race, your fingers digging into the soft leather permeated by the scent of cigars smoked in various saloons. He felt familiar, a home you didn't know could exist within another person. The house you two built resided in his heart; the missing piece you searched for on nights spent without him. But now you had it in your grasp—fitting it back into place with a sigh of bliss.

The picture of peace finally pressed itself to your soul, caressing a part of your love that left each time he mounted his horse—the promise of coming home on the tip of his tongue.

"I haven't found someone else yet, but I very well could-"

The rumble in his chest was layered with everything he'd never say with words. "Try it," he growled. "And I'll have to make a fuckin' graveyard out back."

Heat pooled rapidly into your stomach, elation fluttering through your heart. You knew an animal hid in the depths of his chest. Feral with claws and teeth that snapped at the thought of someone taking what was his. You'd never belong to someone else. You'd never want to. The echo of his words seared into your mind, a vow of forever etched into each vowel and consonant.

He was home. He was here. He was real.

"There's no one else," you murmured, leaning your forehead against his—lips brushing against his with each soft admission. "There could never be anyone else."

All that would go unspoken, all neither of you could say.

I love you. I'll love you forever. Whatever this is…it will only end when we're buried six feet under.

"Good," he replied gruffly. "Now give your old man a proper fuckin' welcome."

The smile you wore deepened as his warm hand cupped your cheek. His skin was dry from the leather and a few cuts were scattered here and there, but nothing could resemble this. The blooming heat that spread across your chest like the roots of an ancient tree. He held you with a tenderness that might have shocked you at first—the fear of harming you burning hot in his stomach.

But this was how he always touched you. With a love that couldn't be replaced. A promise soldified in the lines of his palm, fate driven and earthly bound, and yours forevermore.

Finding his lips beneath his hat, you let go of the breath held deep in your lungs. The taste of his cigars spread on your tongue. A familiar morsel of home you gravitated towards. Later in the evening—when you were both lethargic and naked and covered in all sorts of fluids—he'd puff on a brand new cigar. Giving you taste with lazy kisses and smiles traded in the dark of night.

"Missed you Logan," you mumbled, tongue sliding against his with a breathy moan. "I always miss you."

He chuckled, deep enough to vibrate against your chest—his hands sliding down to grip your waist. "You wanna show me how much?"

"You'd like that huh." Smiling into the kiss, you felt his teeth dig into your lips. He sucked it with a groan, fingers digging harshly into the layers of fabric.

"Mhm." His breath was harsh against your cheek, each kiss filled with a need to ravage what belonged to him. To prove he still held space in your heart. "Missed you every fuckin' day sugar."

You laughed, toying with the hair at the base of his skull—curling your fingers around it to tug him back. The moan he rewarded you with made saliva pool in your mouth. His eyes watched you, dazed with want, mouth parted and swollen from your kisses. And you burned the image of him in your mind.

"You wanna show me how much baby?" you breathed, brushing your lips to his with a teasing laugh.

A biting growl ripped from his throat. "Get inside before I take you out here."

"There's an idea."

The harsh slap to your hip dragged a peal of laughter out of your chest. Stumbling back, your hands yanking the hat off his heat and working the jacket down his arms, you kissed him as if you'd never get the chance to again. Wet and spit slicked. Until your teeth clashed together and his tongue was halfway down your throat. Each moan that dripped from his mouth into yours felt like a fucking reward.

A blissful reminder that you weren't alone; he stood before you, frenzied and aching to feel your skin on his.

Logan couldn't figure out how he wound up in this haven. A home, a lover that stole his breath with each look, and forever right on the horizon. Years spent alone only offered the promise of torment, of a life overflowing with an endless amount of pain.

But for some unknown reason, the sun that used to sear his skin now stood before him lighting the pathway home. The brilliance of you blinded him—warmed every cold aspect that resided in the depths of his chest. Yet he'd rather spend the rest of his life in your fierce heat than suffer in the biting cold again.

Oh how lucky he felt just getting the chance to burn.

Desire simmered sharply in the base of your stomach the further you got into the house—his teeth biting down to the column of your throat, fingers toying with the laces of your corest. He devoured you like a sweet thing to be had. A treat he rarely got to partake in tasting. And fuck if he wasn't going to take his time. You clawed at his shirt, pulling it up and off his body with a hoarse shout of glee—nails piercing the flesh of his shoulders as he yanked your leg around his hip.

He practically dragged you to the small bedroom, tearing off the clothing as he went with harsh snarls of want. You'd worry about mending the fabric later in the morning. Or perhaps the day after that. Given how you could feel the heft of his cock through his pants, pressing to your stomach with each small shift of your body.

"On the bed." The command was punctuated with a slap to your ass—a sharp bite against the skin of your collarbone drew a soft moan to the surface.

He tugged the front of your corset down, dropping to the ground with the remainder of your skirts. Baring yourself to Logan with a smile, you felt the emptiness slip down onto the wood of the bedroom floor. Expelling from your body with each panted breath and soft carress. He turned you inside out with the smallest of actions—the barest of touches.

The time he spent alone and wrapped in thoughts of you became all he lived off of. Your memory turned into the reason he stayed alive.

Unlike so much of his life he now held an answer to why he dragged himself home. Why he forced himself to keep going.

"Lemme see her." His hand wrapped around your leg, pulling open your thighs for him to catch a glimpse of what lay between.

You'd been dripping since he arrived. A sticky wet mess that begged for his attention. Logan salivated at the sight, his eyes zeroing in on the way you glistened for him. On any other night he'd sit you on his face in a quick attempt at gaining the close proximity he longed for when he was gone. Tonight served for a different want—a biting need that dug its teeth into his skin.

"She missed me huh," he mumbled, thumb sliding through your wet folds.

You moaned, breathy and restless. "She did baby."

"'M gonna give her what she needs."

"Logan," you sighed, hand outstretched for him to take. "Need you close."

Every nerve lit like a fuse when he gifted you with a full smile. "I will sugar. Lemme just look at ya first huh?"

With a nod you let your legs spread apart, arms draped above your head. The sight of you stole his breath, but you didn't fare any better. His skin scattered with scars you kissed a thousand times over still rendered you incapable of speaking. Hell you weren't even sure you'd taken a breath since he walked through the door.

Though his body was worn and his hair was graying, you couldn't deny he remained the most beautiful man you ever set your eyes on.

"Like what you're lookin' at?"

Your grin was lazy, eyes overflowing with a language Logan once thought he'd never learn yet now could be considered fluent in. Love.

"I really do," you whispered, sharing the secret with him. The words rarely spoken were shouted at the top of your lungs in each loving praise.

He shook them off when you first met him. Claimed they were false words to make yourself feel better about loving an animal who walked and talked like a human. Although, over time he allowed them to sink into his skin, bathe over his broken and weary soul.

They held him together like a ribbon tied through his soul, placed neatly in a bow on his heart.

His hand was swift in undoing his belt, pushing the remainder of his clothes off to join yours heaped on the floor. And you drank in the sight of the man you adored climbing over your body with a hungry gaze. Your heart flipped, grip sliding along his back as you welcomed him in between your legs—the heavy weight of his cock a warm press against your thigh.

"Welcome home." The smile melded into the kiss he placed on your lips, tongue sliding in the curve along your teeth, to taste every bit of you he could reach.

Bucking your hips into his, you dug your nails into his lower back in the hopes that he'd move. He swallowed your whine, spit trailing down your chin when he pulled back to catch his breath. Moving slowly never worked for you—entirely used to the man who broke you with the intent of putting you back together—and right now was no exception. The torment of not having him tore at your heart, put a splinter in the longing simply to crack you in two even further.

"Hold still," he grunted, his hand shoving your hips back onto the bed. "Movin' so fuckin' much I'm gonna have to tie you down."

Your gasp was wet—needy. "Please. Fuck please-"

"Right." His other hand slid up your torso to rest against the base of your throat—thumb running along the smooth skin that covered your racing pulse. "I forgot who you are, sugar. You'd like that huh?"

Teeth tore at your bottom lip, eyes glazed and pupils blown wide the longer he held you there. Anticipation fried your nerves with each second that passed. But Logan wasn't a cruel man. He knew what you ached for—what you'd give up everything for. The closeness of the man you loved; a chance to have his body, heart, and soul.

Gripping himself, he tapped his cock against your clit, sliding through your slick with a stunted moan. A smile bloomed across his lips at your responding moan—fire streaking down your spine, curling along your limbs. He could drive you to madness and yet you'd thank him each time.

You would be grateful for anything he gave you.

"Don't get quiet on me now." His lips trailed along your cheek as he notched himself at your entrance. "Go on and sing for me sweetheart."

He sunk in with a smooth thrust, stretching you with slickened pain and a hoarse moan against the shell of your ear. And you forgot how to breathe. The pinch of pain quickly dampened with the roll of his hips—the head of his cock pressing snugly against your walls. This is what you missed, what your body screamed for.

The potent euphoria that drowned you under its vicious waves.

"So tight," he grunted. "Guess she really did miss me."

"Logan-" Your head tipped back into the pillows, a loud moan breaking the silence that curled over your bodies like a blanket.

"There she is." Pulling back slightly, he slammed back into you, nearly shoving you up the bed. "My pretty little songbird."

Nothing held you back from the sounds he drew out of your mouth. Each one louder than the last. Until the room was filled with a symphony of your combined pleasure, the vulgar echo of skin slapping against skin and your slick dripping down onto the bed, became all you could think about.

He thrived off it. The sight of you whittled down to nothing but a needy mess, begging for a small hint of his love. Maybe that made him an old man far too fucking dirty to be with someone as prescious at you. But he'd let the guilt eat him alive later. He'd worry about stealing your youth out from under you in the afterglow of feeling you cum.

A harsh thrust that struck against the sensitive spongy part of your walls had your knees clamping around his hips—your fingers scratching at his back to get him to slow down. You needed a chance to breathe, to regain some sense. Logan merely smiled, his fingers tightening around your throat to drag your head up. His lips slotting against yours in a messy kiss.

"Where do ya think you're goin'?" he growled, repeating the move with a bitten out groan. "Thought you wanted me to fuck you. Now you're running?"

"T-Too much-"

The angle changed sharply and suddenly he was no longer grinding into you but fucking right on that spot. A sharp sob of his name only added fuel to the quickly forming flame, quickening his movements until you felt your entire body begin to grow taut.

Slick smeared on the inside of your thighs, sticky and warm and loud enough to make you dizzy each time you heard it. He panted into your mouth, using the hold on your throat as leverage to fuck you back onto his cock.

Logan didn't love softly. He couldn't. Brutality was all he was capable of giving you and like the sweetest angel you took it with a smile. You let him use you up until his name was all you could comprehend. The heady scent of his sweat filled your senses, the salty tang of his skin spread along your tongue as you bit into his shoulder—your teeth marring his already marked skin.

Eventually it would turn purple, fading quicker than usual, but he'd wear it with pride. His own trophy after tearing you apart beneath him.

"Gonna cum?" he asked, mouthing at your breast, moaning at the taste of your skin. "I can feel it."

You nodded frantically, body going taut with each slap of his hips on yours. "C-Can I?"

"So fuckin' polite," he groaned, sucking on your nipple before letting it loose with a pop. Spit dripping down to your stomach. "'Course you can sugar."

Tugging at his hair, you felt the tremble in your thighs spread to the rest of your body. His other hand slipped between your bodies, thumbing at your throbbing clit with a soft moan, dragging you right to the edge of a cliff. A sharp grind of his hips broke the dam within you, flooding you with a mind numbing bliss that scorched your skin.

You cried his name until your throat went raw, tears spilling hotly down your cheeks that he licked up with a smile. The fluttering of your walls dragged a hoarse shout from his chest, his teeth clamping down onto any part of he could reach. He followed you instantly, shoving his cock deep enough to hurt as he filled you with enough cum to spill out.

The echo of your breaths resounded off the wooden walls, his hand dipping down to smear his cum along the inside of your thighs. Coating you in his essence; claiming you with his scent that burned the inside of his nose.

"I did you know," you mumbled, kissing the newly formed bruise on his skin. "Miss you."

He sighed, his forehead dropping to yours. "I know sugar. I missed you too."

"Will you stay this time?"

A grin pulled at the corners of his lips, hips rolling into yours to pull another weak moan from those pretty lips he longed to kiss. "As long as ya want me."

The hesitancy clamped around your heart, filling your stomach with anxiety. You wanted to beg him to never leave again, to spend each moment in the safety of this house. But Logan had always been a ramblin man. He'd never stay in one place too long. Even if eventually he found his way back here, back in the safety of your home.

"Forever?" you breathed, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Logan's heart twisted at the sight. "Yeah sugar," he replied, dipping down to drag his lips along yours. "I like the sound of that.”

#logan howlett x f!reader #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x y/n #logan howlett smut #logan howlett #my writing #logan promptober

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powdermelonkeg · 6 months ago

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Trying to figure out TP Link's diet based on his environment.

Livestock-wise, we've got cuccos and goats. That means

Eggs

Milk

Butter

Cheese

Potentially meat, but I don't think they get eaten unless they're old. Too valuable otherwise | EDIT: Oh yeah you need to breed goats every couple years to get milk. Add in cabrito veal!

And we know for a fact that Ordon Goat Cheese specifically is a thing. Stamped wheel and everything.

There's also fish

And bees/hornets(? It's called bee larva, but the enemy is a Hylian Hornet)

Useful for bait, but Link can eat them.

Did some more research, and apparently in Japan they eat wasp larvae? Specifically in Kushihara. So I'm counting it.

Then plants-wise we have pumpkins

And...corn. Somehow. I've never seen corn growing, but Link has some hanging in his house, so it exists.

I'm choosing to believe it comes from these plants that grow in patches around Ordon.

That gives us a lot. We've got

Cornstarch

Cornmeal

Corn oil

Corn shoots

Pumpkin seeds

Pumpkin seed oil

Pumpkin flour

Pumpkin blossoms

No source of sugar, but depending on how the pumpkins in Ordon taste, they could be naturally sweet. Like pie pumpkins. Also corn syrup is a thing if it's a sweet corn. So corn syrup needs cream of tartar which comes from grapes and apples and such. It's a byproduct of wine. No corn syrup.

Edit: Malt sugar, though!

Now for hypothetical foods.

Ordon is surrounded by pine trees, so that adds pine needle tea and pine nuts to the mix. I was a little worried about species, but apparently there are a lot of pine trees that make edible seeds, so on the list it goes.

Then there are frogs near Rusl and Uli's house, wild songbirds on cliffs, and a squirrel that talks to Link directly, so those are huntable sources of meat.

Is horse grass a cattail? Maybe? Initially, I thought it was—the ends look like cattail seedpuffs, but the leaves are completely different.

I want to treat them like cattails. Cattails that also are probably the main food source for Epona and the goats.

If we do that, that means, on top of all the other uses cattails have like stuffing and tinder and antiseptic, we get

Roots

Shoots

Ground seeds

Can't find a good match for hawk grass though. Concluding that that's not edible. Equivalent exchange and all.

Side note, how do you think horse grass spreads? It's almost always in groups of two or more plants, so that suggests rhizomes, but the image of Link picking one up to blow and stuffing flying out the end of the horseshoe is hilarious to me.

Up next, there are ferns, primarily near trees. After very careful and way-too-deep analysis of a pixelated fern's leaves, I think it's bracken fern.

Which is mildly poisonous.

And also edible.

On the list it goes!

Then finally, Sera has some kind of herb hanging in her shop.

I don't know what it is. I'm calling it Ordon Spice. Congratulations, Ordon Pumpkin Spice is now a thing.

#long post #twilight princess #loz #zelda #analysis #theory #worldbuilding #hello it is bee being a nerd about zelda hours again

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the-fiction-witch · 5 months ago

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Little Knight

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Gwayne Hightower Couple - Gwayne X Reader Reader - Visenya Hightower (Daughter of Rhaenyra and Wife of Gwayne) Rating - 15 Word Count - 1715

Requested -

Hello Miss Witch, me again! Can I request again in your “Boys Yet To Have Books” please? I really love the Oscar Tully I requested, how you write it is simply divine! But now I’d like to request a Gwayne Hightower story. Wherein he is married to Rhaenyra’s sister named “Visenya” (many years after Alicent’s marriage to Viserys) to have a stronger bond between Hightower and Targaryen. But the thing is that they both resided in Old Town. They both had their first child, a girl the same age as Daeron and now expecting another one. No spice please, just Gwayne being the best husband and father ever, being really clingy and touchy, showering sweet words and kisses to his wife exactly like a simp haha. I am a million times grateful if you do this request, thank you! <33

Gwayne rides into the stables, pulling up and dismounting his horse bag slung over his shoulder. He tries to hurry his way inside fast and easy but finds the Maester pestering him as he walks

"Ser, Ser, A raven from your sister," The short man bobbles about following Gawyne around the yard,

Gwayne lets out a sigh, “What does my sister want?”

"She requests for you to take coach and begin the road to king's landing, Ser."

Gwayne grumbles, rubbing his forehead. “By the gods do I need to spell it out for her… no. I am not going to Kings Landing.”

"But Ser-" He began,

Gwayne held up his hand, stopping the man there. “What part of “no” are you unable to comprehend? I will not be going to that viper’s nest, I do not care for how much my sister begs and nags, nothing she can say will change my mind.” Gawyne sighed once more, "I will not risk such a movement, I will not do it. Visenya could begin her labours any day I will not risk taking her on the road in her condition much less to Kings Landing just to please my sister. Visenya will remain here, in our bed-chamber, with her maids and maesters while we wait for the baby. and I will be here. By her side."

The Maester began to argue more but at this,

“Do. Not. Push. Me.” Gwayne turned to face him, a growl upon his lips.

the Maester froze like a deer in the headlights at this, his legs going still and his lip quivering slightly as he nodded his head. The maester grumbled but relented, knowing he was not going to get any further than that, “Very well, ser, I shall inform your sister… again.”

Gwayne let out a scoff, running a hand through his hair in a bout of frustration. “I would not waste your birds on my sister… I’m certain she has a mind to flay you alive if you say “no” once more.” Gwayne heads inside the Hightower, heading up the many stairs to his chambers, already he felt a giddy smile as he opened the door.

The balcony doors open letting a soft breeze blow in from the sunset sea, the sweet canopy bed shaded by wooden screens. And there she lay Visenya his beloved wife. Long hair messy from her rest, wearing only her long white nightgown and her socks, her baby bump ripe and ready to pop any day. She hums softly as she slowly sews little baby clothes.

Gwayne stood in the doorway for a moment, watching her with a soft smile. He thanked the gods she was his, and questioned whatever luck he had been given for the brief time just to call her his own. He could have watched her forever, until Oldtown and the Hightower sank into the sea. But he moved further into the room, closing the doors behind him. He sets his bag down beside the bed, walking over and sitting on the edge. He looks at her sewing before his eyes move up to her face, his smile only growing. He presses a kiss to the top of her head, then her forehead, then her nose, then her lips, then her jaw, then her collar, then her chest, then her bump, where he finally stops. He reaches out, resting his hand on her belly, rubbing it softly with a gentle smile. “Are you working on the clothes again, my love?”

she nodded "Mhm, I made our little knight some little socks to warm his tiny toes,"

Gwayne chuckled softly, grinning at the thought of their child and their tiny little toes ripe for kisses and tickles, “How shall our little night shall be to have such tiny socks, why I could fit the whole knight in my sock,”

“And poison the poor lad,” she joked,

“You are cruel to me my love,” he teased giving her another kiss, “You know not yet if it is a boy or girl, love…”

"No, we shall have to be surprised."

Gwayne smiled softly, taking her hand in one of his and intertwining their fingers. “Indeed, though regardless, I’m certain they will be a gorgeous and strong child. They have us as parents, after all…”

she nodded with a giggle in agreement,

“And I spent the day in the Old Town gardens and I gathered you enough Moonblooms for a whole batch of soap.” He cooed glancing to his bag, “As soon as your hungry let me know and I will make it myself for you,”

“Thank you darling,” she cooed, "What did the maester want, he came looking for you earlier"

Gwayne let out a sigh, he laid down resting his head on her bump in such a way he could still look at her face, “Ummm have I ever told you how beautiful you are,”

“Yes you have,” she smiled, “Maseter… wanted… what?” She reminds,

“You know just staggeringly beautiful,”

“Gwayne!” she complained, “Don’t just avoid the topic,” She warns, “You are causing me distress,” She teased rubbing her belly,

“More ravens from my sister, demanding my presence in Kings’ Landing… I once again refused, I will not take you on the road with you in your current state. It is not fair to you, nor the babe.”

"You know she will not stop her asking until she feels the babe in her arms"

He let out another sigh, “I do not care how many ravens she sends, I will continue to refuse her. I will not risk you or our baby for my sister’s whims.” he explained, “It is three months ride to kings landing, swiftly and you are in no condition to travel for that long, let along be on any swift movements. Our babe will be born by the time we arrive and I will not risk you and our baby’s health to have your labours in the back of a coach. No. You will be here. With all the citadel’s maesters to aid you, all your handmaidens. And I by your side. In your own bed, with your own views, Visenya,” he took her hand in his holding it to his chest,

"But don't you want to take your beautiful wife, swollen heavy with your babe to court to show off?" she teased

Gwayne chuckled, bringing the back of her hand to his lips to press a kiss to the back of it.

“While seeing you in court would be wonderful, you are more important then any lords, ladies or my sister. You are my wife, my love, my Visenya.”

He shifted once more so he was lying partially on top of her, his body mostly on her side, his head now against her torso. He wrapped his arms around her waist, He listened to the sound of her breathing, the steady beat of her heart, and most importantly the sound of the little pitter-patter of their child’s own delicate little heartbeat. Everything was perfect, here in this moment in his mind, often he whispered sweet cooes to her and peppered her with kisses telling her and their baby how much he adores them,

Suddenly the door to the chamber flies open

"Did I miss it!" Lianna yelled in panic, standing at the door in her green gown, fresh from her library session with her cousin Daeron,

Gwayne nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden shout from the doorway, not expecting his daughter’s sudden appearance. The surprise was soon replaced with a sigh and a chuckled at the girl’s question. “Miss what, Lianna?”

"My baby brother!" She bolted over jumping onto their bed with excitement

Gwayne chuckled, shaking his head, his hands going to her little arms to prevent her from accidentally moving the bed too hard, knowing Visenya needed to be on her back most of the time these days. “Lianna, you’ve asked this every day for two months, and it’s always the same answer. Your brother has not arrived yet.”

"Why not?"

Gwayne sighed, smiling at his impatient, and at times, irritatingly stubborn daughter. “Because these things take time, sweetling. Give it another month or two, you’ll have your baby brother to dote on and bother all the time.”

lianna nodded, and pulled a bundle of flowers from her back "For you mama," She offered the flowers to Visenya,

"Awww thank you my sweet girl," she cooed taking the flowers from her, setting them in a vase beside the bed with the flowers’ Lianna brought her yesterday, but keeping one out to rub on her belly to soothe the little baby within,

Gwayne scooted over, The sight made him smile. Lianna was so sweet, though a handful at times. “Those are beautiful Lianna, you did well with them,”

“Lianna, would you like to feel your sibling move? I can feel our little knight right now…”

Lianna immediately came to rest her hands on Visenya's belly "I feel him! I feel him!"

Gwayne chuckled softly, watching Lianna rest her hands on her mother’s belly, a smile upon her face. He reached out, gently resting his own hand over Visenya’s stomach, smiling at the feeling of their child moving around in there. He could practically feel Lianna’s excitement, and he smiled softly at their daughter’s enthusiasm for the little one.

Visenya chuckled, placing her own hand over her Gwaynes, both of them now resting on her stomach.

“See? He’s a little knight indeed. He has been very active lately, moving around in there quite a lot.”

“Umm, I think he is almost ready to join us,” He smiled,

“I think so too,”

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occamstfs · 10 months ago

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Diet Diaries

Hi all! Thank you so much for 500 followers! Here's a little style switch up to celebrate, got a lotta refs in this one and I quite leaned into the diary entries so I hope it's not too much! Hope y'all enjoy this stereotype reversal and as always, best! -Occam

Monday March 21st-

Andy:

I am beyond sick of Steve. Moving in together was a mistake, I don’t care how cheap the rent is, he is a narcissistic slob and I am eager to never see him again. Well no, I shouldn’t get ahead of myself. Our R.A. had this idea to try and walk in each other's shoes, which I don’t know? It might not be the worst thing? My big idea was switching diets actually- honestly I’m just hoping if he ate more like me he’ll stop stinking up the dorm. I can dream at least. Literally though he just can’t go to the gym as often if he eats like me. If I'm lucky at the very least his deodorant will last longer, I cannot take another day of his b.o. seeping through the walls, ugh! Anyway, wish me luck! I’m sure this will be a breeze for me, he usually just eats junk anyway, hope he enjoys my salads~

Steve:

Andy that little fucker. He was being such a little bitch to James and now I’ve gotta eat his rabbit food for a week or lose this bet or whatever. Steve don’t lose tho. Lil twink’s gotta eat whatever I make him too and you can bet your ass I’m gonna make him match my macros if I’ve gotta starve myself like he wants. Fuck! This shit is going to absolutely tank my routine! I’ve gotta make Andy give up. I’m gonna go so hard on him he’ll have to hit weights if he doesn't want to blow up like a pig. Maybe then he’ll stop bitching any time I don’t fucking shower every time I get back home.

Tuesday March 22nd-

Andy:

My Lord! He is trying to kill me! I don’t know how anyone could consistently eat as much as he’s telling me to. I’m so bloated from all this food.. He looks so smug every time he tells me to keep eating, I’m sure he doesn’t eat like this. He’s just trying to break me but I’m not going to let him win this easy.

Ugh, I feel so bloated my pants are so tight on my waist. I didn’t think meat sweats were a thing but man I am needing to put on deodorant like twice a day now and I’m not even exercising. I will say that now that I’m eating so much, I don’t hate the idea of going to the gym. It’s been a while since I went but I should probably at least hit up the treadmill lest I get even more of a gut- maybe I’ll see if he wants to go tomorrow. This is all just an exercise to understand each other more after all, no need to make it a stupid competition like he wants eh~

Steve:

Fuck! I am so tired of Andy’s pussy-ass diet. I had absolutely no energy at the gym today, I told all my bros that I was just gonna take it easy but fuck! I really was working my ass off and I struggled to even meet a PR I set last week. It was supposed to be a push day and I didn’t even get a chest pump! Why the fuck am I still going. I’m abso-fucking-lutely not getting gains on his fuckin’ bitch-ass salads and oats.

Eatin’ like a fucking twink and the fucker has the nerve to ask to go to the gym with me tomorrow. I’ll make sure he regrets that >:) Gonna work him like a horse so he’ll throw in the towel! After feeling how sore actually working on yourself makes ya, he might actually learn something. I’ll turn in early so I can go all out and show him what a real man looks like.

Wednesday March 23rd-

Andrew:

Man! I totally get why Steven eats so much now~ I am absolutely raring to go and get this; He said I could go to the gym with him today! He even seemed like he wanted me to go with him! I feel like I have more energy than I’ve ever had before, I might even try some weights!! I don’t know but I’m so excited! It’s like I can feel my chest and biceps begging me to go and hit some iron haha! Or whatever those “bros” say~ I hope he’s got something good planned for lunch because I fuck Sorry! I just want to show him that I can do all this dude stuff too! I’m a man right? I guess all this protein is making me feel more like a man than usual idk. Either way though I’m ready to go! Hope we have some fun!

Steven:

That bitch’s fuckin’ fru fru salads are ruining my PR’s for sure! I bet he knew that when he begged me to take him to the gym today, knew it was the only time he could show off to me was when I’m so out of it. And he didn't! Just to be clear I could still wipe the floor with him even if I’m not at my A-game. Ugh, I do gotta hand it to the little fucker though. I KNOW he hasn’t even really set foot in a gym before but man. Beginners luck my ass, as soon as I showed him a technique he lifted like he’s been doing it his whole life! It’s like I could see his pecs and tris swelling up with each lift. Not that I was staring at the bitch or anything but he’s just I just need this fuckin’ diet thing to end so I can get back to my grind, I guess I wouldn’t hate taking him to the gym more often, would be hot to make a bitch into a bro Fuck! What am I writing, I just need to lift again.

Thursday March 24th-

Andrew:

Bro! Weird? Whatever, I am absolutely on fire! Steven’s diet is absolutely killer! I don’t know how it’s working so well but man I couldn’t care less, I felt like a pro in there! My coaches in school would always shit on me for not trying but man! I was barely trying yesterday but I could tell from the look on Steven’s face that I was acing it! I guess I’ll have to admit to him that he is definitely onto something with his macros but man, not until he gives up haha! Man, I need to chill haha, it’s not like I’m any stronger than I was Monday but man, looking at myself in the mirror it just seems like my clothes are just fitting better. Catching on my chest rather than my stomach y’know? I’ve never noticed that there is muscle on my arms before but man the way my sleeves are kinda hugging my biceps mm. I need to chill haha! Can’t use all my energy before hitting the gym again today!

OH! Also totally weird, I’ve had to shave twice this week! Once last night and then again this morning which is so weird! I’m not complaining though, it’s not like I wouldnt look hot with a beard right? Although my face is a little itchy already, my chest too? Whatever though haha! Time to head back to the grind lol!

Steven:

God!! Andy Andrew is being such an asshole! He’s clogging the sink shaving which I know he would so be on my ass if I had done that. Wait, he did get on my ass for shaving! But it hasn’t been a problem this week, it’s like I’m not even growing stubble for some reason? Probably from not working so hard at the gym, is that how that works? Whatever it’ll be over as soon as this stupid diet thing is. We’re halfway through now. Thank God! Because that fucking twink is starting to stink up the dorm which again!! He was such a little bitch all the time to me about that! It’s like he’s literally stopped using deodorant as soon as he started needing it! He’s never exerted himself in his life and now that his pits are sweating at all he’s suddenly allergic to hygiene, ugh! I saw last night too the fucker fell asleep with his head in his pit too so it’s not like he doesn’t know it.

It was a little surprising actually, cause I would’ve sworn he was hairless like one of those freak cats but man his pit was as thick as my pubes! Thicker maybe, uh? Man I wish I could get that image out of my head, it’s like the tuft was pushing out further each time he inhaled, man that’s kinda hot? Fuck! I swear this twink-ass diet is making me think like him too. I need to sneak to the gym later, without him. I cannot have him getting ahead even while I’m still on his chickenshit diet.

Friday March 25th-

Steven:

Ah!! That Little bitch! He was already at the gym when I got there! Ugh! It makes me want to punch a wall, or fight him. Or something I dont know! It’s just, he was lifting my body weight on the bench when he saw me, it was so ho ugh! It doesn’t matter what it was, I can’t stop thinking of that smug look on his face- what I would give to wipe it off… That absolute prick knew what he was doing. Ugh, speaking of pricks! He may as well have not been wearing shorts at all by how much his cock was showing through them.

I knew my meal prepping was fucking tight but man, I can’t believe hot its made him. It just really fucking turns me on, or no its such a turn on for chicks. Yeah. Whatever. I need this bet to end already. Clearly he’s totally obsessed with my lifestyle so he should just admit it already! Also, hate to say it, but to Andrew’s credit his diet ain't too bad either. I’d never tell him this, and it is all a little emasculating but my skin has never looked this good. I’m not even doing skincare or anything but it’s like I’ve been on a routine for years, it’s crazy! It’s still ruining my upper gains but man, my ass looks so good it's crazy..

Oh also re: facial hair, I woke up this morning and could’ve sworn I used to have chest hair but now it looks like I’ve got just a little left around my nipples and leading up from my pubes? I might go ahead and shave those too, might as well be totally smooth like a chick right haha, I wonder what Andrew would think? I need to chill haha, maybe I’ll go see if he’s still at the gym~

Andrew:

Fuuuuck dude lol. I should’ve started hitting up the gym ages ago. Don’t know what I was even wasting time on before I started doing twice-a-days? Studying I guess but I can figure that shit stuff out hm. Fuck it is so much better to be strong than a dweeb. Every set it feels like I’m just busting out new PR’s! Gonna need to buy new clothes though cause I am absolutely tearing up my crop tops, my twinky little wardrobe just isn’t cutting it anymore. Maybe Steven’d be down for a clothes swap, I’ve seen him eying up my fits all week, god knows he’ll fit them better lol. Oh haha, and speaking of him eying things up >:) You should’ve seen his little face blush when he walked into the gym this morning! He looked so pissed at me lol, but I’m not gonna grab him to come along every time I need to get some sets in right? It was pretty embarrassing for him yesterday anyway, the way I showed him up lol. I’m not just gonna sit around and watch him not lift weights when I can figure this shit out myself, thought it was supposed to be his thing though lol.

Mm, saying that though, I def didn’t hate having a little audience from his treadmill. God, his blushing face as he stared directly at my work-out chub. Fuck, it really got me going. It really helped my sets too haha. Maybe I should hit him up lol, I can tell how bad he wants me >:)

Saturday March 26th-

Stevie:

Ugh! That douche is walking around the dorm completely shirtless! Do you know what it’s like to have an oaf flexing away across the room from you 24/7! He knows what he’s doing, and thank god my dick isn’t showing through my shorts like I thought it usually does because he might literally pounce on me then-

Ugh! I didn’t even mention this morning. I literally woke up to him jacking off his morning wood! Do you know what a bitch-fit he would have thrown if I did that! He would’ve filed a police report, probably the dweeb, or. I guess I could too?? But it was just so fucking hot. I tried to pretend I was asleep, but he totally caught me. He literally smirked and made eye contact as he finished too- thank god he didn’t see my boner as he asked if I wanted to clean up his mess. He’s such an ass!

I still have a boner now actually, it’s his B.O. driving me actually crazy! It’s like I can’t think near him if he’s going to stink this bad god.. Oh, he’s doing pullups on the door frame fuck. He’s supposed to be hairless but I see sweat dripping from his pits god I can't. God with each pull up his chest looks even more powerful. His cock is bobbing up and down in his pants and I can not look away. Fuck it’s getting even bigger. I’m supposed to be the strong one right? It’s not, fuck. This isn’t right. He just so fucking, god that body, I need him-

And Drew:

Heh. I knew that fucking twink couldn’t resist me. Every little thing I do wraps him even tighter around my finger. Every flex and smirk turns him on even more I bet he can’t even think straight the way his little dick is losing it in his briefs- I took all his jocks since I’m sure he would need them anymore. Bet the little bitch didn’t even remember they were his.

Might as well have been drooling when he saw me jacking my cock this morning lol, surprised he didn’t take me up on the offer to lick up the mess. I know he wanted to lol. He’ll get the chance soon enough though >:) God it’s a two-way street though. That fucking twink is so fuckable now, thank god he doesn’t need to shave anymore, don’t want his peachfuzz scratching my cock cause god that mouth is so fuckable now.. To say nothing of his fucking juicy ass, god! I’ve been working out in the room all morning waiting for him to give in and ask me to fuck him, idk if I can hold it in much longer. I might need to jack it again, my balls are bluer than I ever thought they could be, fuck. It’s like they're sore. Ugh I feel them getting heavier, heh, that little fucker cant resist though. God I feel precum starting to pool in my jock. If I put my pit within a foot of his face I give him five before he can’t help but shove his face in. I need to fuck him, but as if I’m going to let him see how desperate I am. Stevie that little fucker. He’ll be riding my cock any second now.

Sunday March 27th-

Stevie:

Fuck <3 !! He finally fucked me!! God, it was like nothing I’ve experienced before~ His cock was like a beer can and goddd the scratch of his beard as we were making out.. Hehe if I keep thinking about him I might just cum again right now! He can fully toss my body like a ragdoll and I’d thank him ugh! He’s just so hot, and to think he wants to fuck me!! Ah~ I’ll need to keep myself pretty so he won’t get tired of me hehe! Not that it’ll be a problem, I just need to keep on his diet, God who knew it would be this good! I don’t even remember whatever problems we had before all this and I can’t imagine anything better than getting fucked by him <3 Ah! He he~ He’s staring at my ass right now so I guess it’s time for another round! Can’t thank our R.A. enough for this idea, well he he I’ve got an idea for how to thank him, oh! Drew’s ripped off his jock! Wish me luck he he~

Drew:

My little bitch is so tight, fuck. I’m surprised he can even take my cock but god can he ride it. Gonna have a hard time taking a break from fucking him to even hit the gym. Need to make sure the twink keeps up the diet tho or we’ll have an issue. Be sure to make him come to the gym whenever I do, if not to tighten up then to watch me heh. Won’t hate fucking him in the locker room too. Mm, God his fucking tiny body makes me feel so powerful. And I fucking am. God my bis are the size of his thick thighs, fuck his ass. My cock is straining my jock just thinking about it. His tiny waist ugh, I need my sweaty body over him now. Not like he’ll mind, the horny fucker. Mmm hope he’s ready to take my cock, bet his mouth is already watering heh. Pop my pecs at him and he’ll struggle not to cum on the spot, he better keep it together until I let him though. Can’t be having my bitch blow his load that fast. Thank fuck he’s chilled out finally, though I guess my cock’ll work wonders on anyone >:) speaking of it’s about that time again. Hope he’s ready for some more action, hate to have to find another hole.

#male tf #mental change #masculinization #twinkification #jockification #straight to gay

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psychedelic-ink · 1 year ago

Text

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧

ㅤㅤjoel miller x f!reader

genre: smut, minors dni, jackson era

word count: 1k

summary: joel finally allows you to pamper him.

warnings: a very explicit and detailed blow job, cock worship, dirty talk

Joel doesn’t let you pamper him—ever. You hate that he doesn’t. But you also understand. This isn’t a world of soft caring touches and velvet tongues. He doesn’t mind spoiling you, however. He loves watching you quiver underneath him, especially loves hearing you beg when he makes you come over and over again, be it with his fingers or tongue.

That doesn’t change the fact that you want to be the one spoiling him for a change.

He changed during his time in Jackson. He’s more relaxed now—one might even say he’s happy.

Which is why, right before sleep, you decide to kneel before him as he sits at the edge of the bed to take off his boots. You look up with hungry and hopeful eyes.

“Darlin’,” he sighs. “What are you doin’?”

“Don’t say no.”

“I don’t even know what I’m sayin’ no to.”

You let out a soft exhale as his thumb touches your cheek. He caresses the skin softly. His chuckle comes out in a puff of air, the corner of his eyes crinkling, he smiles down at you.

“Tell me what you want.”

The side of your face drops to his knee, “I want to suck your cock. I want you to let me make you feel good.”

“You always make me feel good,” the soft timber of his voice makes you shudder, arousal pooling between your legs. Your eyelids flutter before you answer.

“You know what I mean.”

“Fine then,” he says in a faux exasperation. Joel spreads his legs and flattens his palms on the bed. “Do what you want sweetheart. I ain’t dumb enough to say no to you suckin’ my cock.”

You shudder at the words, you love it when he talks dirty, his voice dropping and almost hoarse whenever he does. Looking up, you slowly unbutton his pants and lower the zipper. He helps you out only by lifting his hips, you don’t bother removing them completely. There’s something mind-numbingly arousing about being half-dressed, as if the two of you might need to bolt at any second, or the feeling that you’re not supposed to be doing this.

But, of course, this is your home and the two of you can do anything. Still, the thought is enough to have you grinding down onto nothing.

His cock is beautiful. And you had told him as much in the past only for your words to be shrugged off. Lowering his boxers, you watch as his length juts between his legs, painfully hard and leaking. You press your lips to the side, sliding down, you allow the tip of your tongue to trace the vein. You smile as you hear a hitch of breath. Flattening your tongue against the underside of him, you meet his gaze with heavy lashes.

“I love your cock,” you say, voice embarrassingly horse. “You’d be amazed at how soaked I am right now.”

A choked-out sound leaves him, a sound you can’t quite decipher. You elect to ignore it and dip down. You press your tongue between his balls, taking the sensitive skin between your lips as you let out a half-muffled moan. His hips jerk, cock gliding over your face. He’s so warm.

Bringing a hand up, you cup him while continuing to swirl your tongue. You take him into your mouth, hallowing your cheeks. He’s getting louder now. However, you can still tell that he’s biting back sounds. You suck even harder, relishing in the way his thighs shake. You let go of them with a pop and bring your tongue back to his aching cock, you drag your lips until you reach the tip, wrapping your lips around him.

“Fuck— Sweetheart. . . Jesus fuckin’ Christ. You’re gonna kill me.”

Heavy drops of precome coat your tongue, moaning around him, you take him even deeper until the bulbous head reaches the back of your throat. His chest rattles with a growl, both hands coming up to each side of your head to push you further down. Your eyes water as you feel him inching down your throat, your lungs expanding as you try to breathe. Your thighs press together helplessly, desperate to relieve the growing pulse between your legs. You decide to bring one hand down but he stops you, only pulling back a little so you can breathe.

“You ain’t touchin’ yourself until I’m done. I thought you wanted to spoil me, honey. Don't go back on your words now. Don’t be a brat who’s nothin’ but bark and no bite.”

Much to your surprise, he drops his hands back down to his thighs, “Make me come, then I’ll take care of you.”

Your insides flutter, cunt clenching almost painfully at the hoarse tone of his words. You brace yourself by placing your hands on top of his, straightening yourself to get a better angle. Your head bobs up and down on him, the wet sounds of your mouth working around him blending with his ragged breathing. He’s so close, you can tell by the way his back tenses and his breathing becomes more erratic. Your hand sneaks underneath his cock, giving him a gentle tug.

With renewed fervor, you suck harder and faster, your tongue dancing around him, your hand squeezing his balls in perfect time with the movements of your mouth. Joel’s grip on his thighs tightens, nails biting into his own skin, and you can feel him throbbing in your mouth.

You pull back, gasping for air, and pump him faster with your hand, your mouth hovering just above him. Joel’s eyes meet yours and for a moment, you can see the tenderness and love there, buried under the lust.

With one final stroke, you feel him release in your hand, his body shuddering and his hands flying to your head, clutching at your hair. Thick spurts of come lands on your cheek, lips, and chest, dripping down your burning body. You kiss the head of his cock, swallowing the last of his hot come, savoring the taste of him in your mouth.

Reluctantly, you pull away, panting with your cheeks burning. Joel leans back on the bed, his chest heaving as he comes down from his high.

“I knew you’d be good at that,” he says with a chuckle, running a hand through his hair.

You smile as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, “I told you. You should’ve let me do it way before, you’re too stubborn for your own good.”

Joel grins and pulls you into bed with him, tucking you against his side as he begins to lazily play with your clit.

“I think it’s my turn to return the favor,” he murmurs against your temple, his one hand trailing down to your breast. Your breath catches in your throat as he fondles you, playing with the pebbled flesh.

And as he takes you over the edge, you can’t help but think that this is the kind of life you could get used to—spending nights with Joel, spoiling each other in every way possible, and maybe even falling in love a little more every day.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #tlou fanfic #thlou fanfiction #hbo the last of us fanfic #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters fanfiction

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