#do you see the red string and pins in your mind's eye?

[a-heart-of-kyber]

No, no cuz listen.

@dealingdreams and I have discussed how Qimir/The Stranger gives trapped animal vibes. And she mentioned how maybe it was something similar to Ben wherein someone spoke to him from a young age in his mind.

(Kylo theme plays in the distance)

(It literally also played while Kelnacca...had someone else...in his head.)

And idk where, but someone pointed out that his cave has those Cortosis veins. So it, or maybe even the whole island, potentially has a similar veil of protection as the helmet aka blocking thoughts/energy etc.

Which means, if that's the case, this dude is hiding and has been hiding for a long time.

He only seemed to take on the "Qimir smuggler rat man" persona because Mae wasn't doing what she was supposed too and he wasn't even sensed by the Jedi in the force. Overall, he probably assumed he had laid low long enough to go unnoticed without the helmet.

Then he made himself very obvious, and if someone were looking/feeling/sensing they probably found him. Aka, his display on Khofar led Plagueis to the Unknown Planet.

Cuz remember...the helmet broke. He didn't have it on for hours after that fight.

I am personally not going to assume EU stuff is canon until it is made canon. So, while it could be Bal'Demnic, that has not been confirmed. Additionally, just because it could be Bal'Demnic it doesn't mean Plagueis has tapped that resource yet. It could still be unknown to even him until right now.

Now, whatever happened between Qimir and Vernestra, we know she thought he was dead. Aka, he was either actually dead or very close to dead.

(Additionally, this would mean that he initially had no reason to hide from her if he could assume she thinks him dead. So, if he has been hiding, he's been hiding from someone else.)

Plagueis most likely scooped that boy up and treated him like a science project for a bit. Screwing with him mentally in the process (a nice bit of further Sith ideological brainwashing). Then, of course, Qimir became the Apprentice.

(This would make him a bit of an analog of Darth Venamis. Far from the same, but taking bits of him...but also, surviving/escaping being an experiment.)

Which could mean he has been fed the Sith code and the Jedi code by those masters, but he has already had traumatic experiences with Both sides...leading to this lack of care for rules/wanting freedom.

(Aka Power of Two, not Rule of Two "rules rules rules if you never follow them, you never have to break them.")

And Qimir has repeatedly been compared to a Vampire in interviews and has comments and imagery within the narrative that lean that way as well.

(The floating/disappearing, "it was a very long time ago", the implication that when Sol knew him Sol was probably a child...being carried away in a swarm of bats-I mean moths)

I know so many people think Plagueis is involved with Osha and Mae...but I don't think he is, yet.

At the moment, I still think he's there for Qimir.

(Also, I'm not really pro having this guy show up for 3 seconds and suddenly literally everything is about him and he did it all. If he already did everything, where is he meant to go within the narrative exactly? If he already knows how to create life and Has Created Life?...anyways)

I think he's checking in on his potentially immortal or at least inhumanly long-lived test subject... I mean Apprentice (who may or may not have actually been resurrected). And, somehow, said Apprentice has linked up with a woman who was created using the force.

These two are literally Plagueis's version of Christmas.

P.S. I think he wants an acolyte for exactly the reasons he said. We have been repeatedly shown and told that Qimir/The Stranger speaks the truth...or, at least, his truth.

But...this doesn't necessarily disprove my other idea that he wants to draw out Vernestra have her go against Plagueis so he does not have to do that.

Going back to the idea that both of these Masters are powerful and they have both screwed him up royally.

And despite this, he can still fight blind in the force.

He is extremely balanced for someone who realistically shouldn't be if he's fully dark.

[beloveds-embrace]

DukeDom Poly!141

So, in one of the things (Simon and pleasure), you mentioned boudoir paintings…

OMFG I CAN JUST IMAGINE HIM MAKING ALL OF THEM DO ONE, I bet you he hangs them in his room. OH OH OH! also, I bet Simon can draw skjsudisndh 😭😩! HED SIT DOWN WHILE ONE OF THE OTHERS IS GOING AT IT WITH THEIR DUCHESS AND JUST DRAWS IN HIS CHAIR ON THE SIDE 😩😩. Reader laying on her back or ass up in the air, all sweaty and glowing while one of the boys goes at her in bliss and Simon just drawing her from the side lines… 😫🤭😩

Also, can I be 🪭 anon?

Dukedom 141 masterlist

God, Simon painting them himself? Absolutely yes.

He’d do sooo many paintings of you, it’d be concerning if you could actually think past the pleasure that clouds your mind. He has you in so many different lingeries, things that make you turn warmer than a furnace and your men’s eyes darken with want; silks and laces that snag around your soft skin, garter belts that frame the length of your thighs, custom panties with nothing more than a neat, glowy string of pearls to line your cunt with a matching jewelry set.

Simon dresses you himself, and none of the men say anything against it; he is in his element, drawing the stockings up your legs and kissing your ankles along the way, big hands carressing your calves. He takes his time lacing up your corsets and bras, kissing up your spine, cupping your tits in his big, warm hands and kneading and groping until your nipples are stiff enough for his liking, for what he needs to do his painting, and you have that lovely, desperate and needy expression on your face.

Simon may do the painting, but to him, the scene itself is art: you, you, you. Face down and ass up, bared to his gaze and brushes while Kyle keeps your hips up with a hand under your belly and three fingers pumping in and out of you, your noises, sweet moans and cries, a background melody with Kyle whispering praises into you ear until Simon can see how well you cream around those thick fingers.

Art, that’s what you truly are. No painting will ever truly capture your beauty, but still, Simon tries-

And that means he also has you in so many different poses. Another day, another lingerie sets, teeth marks indented over your body, your ankles and calves, while Johnny keeps you pinned and spread with his body. Simon focuses on your straining muscles, your pretty painted nails raking down Johnny’s back and leaving behind angry red lines that don’t compare to the way he pistons into you, your pretty cunt stretched around him and your combined cum drenching the bed. Your legs, adorned in heels Simon specifically got for you, shake and tremble, your pleasure visible and audible to all.

And John… Simon doesn’t think he’s ever seen a better seat for you than his face. You look perfect, twitching and whining, your hair and makeup a mess of a canvas, John’s hands around your hips like unbending snakes. He’s made you cum so many times, your nub swollen and sensitive under his heavy tongue, you’ve soaked his beard, his face, his neck- and yet he doesn’t stop. A queen has no reason to leave her seat, no? And yet it’s your expression that has Simon fixated, the way you look around, look at him as if you want to beg him to save you or join you. Maybe both.

Simon paints each and every one. Moments frozen in his paintings, never comperable to the real thing, and yet adored all the same.

(And you stare at the finished paintings with awe, in spite of your blush. The way he’s drawn you… you never knew you were seen so beloved.

You turn back to Simon, bejeweled fingers wrapping around his cravat, and pull him close to kiss the corner of her lips. Your men continue to admire the paintings, but you are focused on the painter.

“I want one of you and I, Simon my love.”)

First time writing smut (if this can even be considered that 💀😭)

[lomlhwa]

mommy (j.wy)

pairing: sex worker!wooyoung x client!reader

preview: you really wanna be a mom, but you don't wanna be tied to a man. so you find a service that offers impregnation with no strings.

tags/warnings: fem reader, exhibitionism (fucking in a very not private room), bondage, mating press, so much breeding, lots of talk about making the reader a mom (of course), masochism, degrading + praise, sir kink, choking, hand kink, pet names (princess, angel, baby), wooyo tries to be professional and fails, so much dirty talk, unprotected penetration (wrap it before you tap it), creampie

trigger warnings: n/a

wc: 1.6k

song recs for this fic: i need u by bts

a/n: someone requested this but i'm not gonna put them on blast (you know who you are)

the sterile environment of the fertility clinic was nothing less than uninviting. the bright fluorescent lights were nauseating to say the least. it almost made you wanna turn around and change your mind, but the secretary spotted you before you could make a run for it. “who are you here to see, ma’am?” she asks you, pushing her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. “um, jung wooyoung.” she scrolls through her computer before finding your appointment. “ah, miss y/n. you’re his 4pm to 6pm?” she asks and you nod. she clicks her tongue before picking up the phone sitting on the desk and dialing a short set of numbers. you hear the sound of the intercom beeping before she speaks. “jung wooyoung to the lobby, please.” 

before you know it, one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen comes sauntering into the lobby. “you paged me, mrs. na?” she raises her hand and points at you with her bright red acrylic nail. his eyes follow her finger until he reaches you. “she’s your next client. she’s here for the all-in.” a smirk forms on his face as he turns to face you. “hello, i’m wooyoung. please follow me back to our room.” you nod and walk towards the door he entered through. “enjoy your service,” the secretary says, not even looking up from her computer. your hands tremble while holding your purse in your hands and walking down the hallway. 

wooyoung pushes open a glass door, leading to a room solely adorned with a bed and a nightstand. you spin around to find a coat stand and place your purse and sweater on one of its hooks. when you turn back around to the bed, you find wooyoung staring at you with blown pupils.”have you signed all the paperwork?” you rock back and forth on your heels as you nod. “i know that mrs. na said you’re here for the “all-in”, but i need you to verbally specify what you’re here for,” he instructs. he leans back on his palms, raising his hips slightly to adjust how he’s sitting. you curse god for the way wooyoung’s grey sweatpants sit on his body. “um, i would like to be a mother. but, i don’t have a partner, nor do i want to be tied to someone for this process. so, i guess i’m here for you to um, get me pregnant.” your voice lowers at the last part, still feeling incredibly embarrassed that this is the way you’re spending your saturday afternoon. 

wooyoung rises off of the bed and walks over to you. “you understand this is a completely professional exchange then? nothing done or said means anything?” when he runs his finger over your bottom lip, you start seriously reconsidering your decision. but it’s too late to turn back now. “i understand.” another smirk flashes over his face before he moves out of the way. “well princess, on the bed with your legs spread. i wanna see how this pretty skirt bunches at your waist.” your feet move as if they have a mind of their own, rushing to get yourself thrown on the bed. wooyoung groans at the sight of your compliant body following his every command.

he slots himself between your legs, running two fingers over your slit through your underwear. your hands move to grip his arm and he's quick to pin you down. “professional means you don’t touch.” he leans over you, grinding his hardening cock against your core as he reaches into the nightstand. he pulls out a pretty pink ribbon, waving it in your face. “i’m gonna tie your hands to the headboard since you can’t keep your hands to yourself.” before you can protest or fake promise not to do it again, your wrists are crossed and bound together. you struggle against your restraints as wooyoung ghosts his fingers down your sides, goosebumps following his path. 

“much better. i like you like this. so perfect and compliant.” you turn your head away from his dominant gaze, your cheeks heating up. he bucks his hips against yours and a small whimper escapes your lips. you bite your lip to try and suppress any further noise threatening to leave your throat. wooyoung grabs you by the jaw and forces you to face him once more before landing a hard slap across your face. “sluts don’t get to look away from the one who’s going to fuck them.” your cheek stings as wooyoung looks at you with fake pity. 

“from this point forward, you will refer to me as ‘sir’, got it?” you press your lips into a thin line before nodding. you hadn’t realized you had booked the kinkiest worker in this establishment. “words, princess.” your face flushes before you respond; “yes, sir.” a wide, toothy grin takes over his face as he leans down to kiss you. his plump lips envelop yours, pressing his entire body against yours. the kiss is a messy clash of teeth and tongue. you tug desperately against your restraints, desperate to feel more of him. you grind your hips up against him and his hands fly to your hips and slam them back down. “bad girl.” 

you whine, a frown forming on your face. wooyoung removes himself from between your legs to pull your underwear off from under your skirt. “i don’t wanna take this cute skirt off of you. i love how slutty you look in it.” he admires you for a moment, drinking in your appearance. suddenly, you realize that behind wooyoung, there’s a large window with no curtains drawn over it. your legs snap shut as someone walks by the room, despite them not even looking into the room. wooyoung clicks his tongue and shakes his head, tilting his head to the side. “everyone’s used to what happens in this room, angel. don’t get insecure now.” he grabs both of your knees and forces your legs back open. 

wooyoung pulls his sweatpants and boxers down to mid-thigh, letting his cock finally spring free. your jaw drops at the sight. you had read his profile online, and it was adorned with a bright red size warning. a company policy you assumed. but you had seriously underestimated how badly he needed the warning. “scared, baby? don’t worry, i’ll make it fit.” you shake your head, staring at him with wide eyes. “it won’t fit, it won’t,” you babble and he hushes you. “i’ve got you. your pretty cunt is gonna suck me in so perfectly. sluts know how to take dick, right?” biting your bottom lip, you stare at him with a worried expression. “y-yes, sir.” 

he brings his hand to his cock, aligning it with your entrance. your body tenses at the feeling of finally getting to what you truly came for. “i’m gonna breed you so well, princess.” his jaw falls slack as he bottoms out into you. “fuck you so full of my cum so that you have no choice but to get pregnant.” you tug so hard against the ribbon tying you down that you worry it might rip your skin open. wooyoung takes his time with the first few strokes, drinking in the way you feel and how your body reacts to him. he admires the way your eyes cross and your hips stutter every time he rolls his hips. “p-please let me t-touch you, sir,” you plead in a soft, high pitched voice. in this moment, wooyoung loses it. he reaches over you to untie your wrists, holding them in his hands. he sees how bruised you are and presses kisses to your wrists. 

your arms rest on his shoulders and you tangle your fingers in his hair. he shoves his face in your neck, panting like a dog. “i know i said this was professional, but you’re so pretty i’m already so close.” he pulls away from you and connects his hand to your throat. his long fingers wrap around your neck, squeezing just hard enough to make your vision blurry. “c-cumming oh my god, i’m gonna cum,” you manage to barely get those words out before wooyoung folds you in half and forces you into the mating press. “you’re gonna be such a good mom. you’re gonna look so pretty all swollen with my kid. oh, you clenched so hard at that, you like when i talk to you like this, don’t you? you little slut.” your legs begin to shake as he drives you over the edge, your orgasm making your vision go white. 

“just a little more baby, i’m gonna fuck you through it. i’m gonna fill you up so well.” a pout forms on your puffy lips as your body stings from overstimulation. he presses kisses all over your face as his hips stutter. finally, he releases inside you, painting your walls white. he chants praises and compliments as he empties himself out. he pulls out slowly, quick to shove two fingers into your hole to plug his cum inside. he leans down awkwardly to grab your panties and helpy ou put them back on to catch what drips out of you. 

he pulls his pants and boxers back up to his hips before speaking. “it’s now 6pm. your session is over. take a test in a month and a half to two months. call the clinic if it fails and you may be eligible for a free second session.” he presses his lips into a thin line before continuing. he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone before handing it to you.”i’m not supposed to do this, but please give me your number.” you smile and type out your number before handing his phone back to him. 

you can see his smile as he walks out, leaving you to your own devices. you struggle a little to walk but manage eventually. the secretary gives you a knowing smile as she sees you wobble out. “have a good night, ma’am.”

© lomlhwa 2024

[strangelysamantha]

practice ✧

bestfriend!eddie munson x reader.

warnings: nsfw, blowjob, dirty talk

summary: asking best friend eddie if you could practice sucking his dick for your date

a/n: masterlist is pinned! like if you enjoy! requests are open

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

"i'm embarrassed." you firmly press your lips into a line. "why are you nervous to tell me?" eddie asks. you shy away, unable to admit what's going through your mind. "i just," you hesitate. "cmon, you can talk to me." you nod, "well i'm going on a date, and i'm not that good at head." he hides his smirk and allows you to continue. "what if we get to that point, and i don't even know what to do with it?" you scratch your neck, "well i'm sure it will come naturally." eddie states. you smile brightly, a genius idea forming your cloudy thoughts. "what if i practice on you?" he is shocked that those foul words came out of your pretty mouth.

"are you sure?" he questions, uneasy. he wanted to do it, but he didn't want you to possibly regret it or worse, make things weird. you contemplate. "practice makes perfect, doesn't it?" you smile. he laughs, "okay." you move to the ground, sitting on your knees. "what do i do?" you ask. "well first you have to get me worked up, turn me on." you nod. you lean forward, pressing your lips on his. he's caught off guard, unaware that you'd make that move. he kisses back hungrily, as if a part of him had been waiting for this moment.

you lower your hand to his thigh, slowly making your way up to undo his pants buckle. his breath hitches, as he watches you take control. you undo his belt, unbutton his pants, and pull his zipper down. he's looking down on you, you pull out his length, placing a kiss at his tip. "now that it is ready, you're gonna open your mouth real wide." he grips your chin, forcing your mouth open. "good girl. wrap your lips around me." you lower your mouth around his cock. using your saliva to lessen the friction, you start to lick around him. he throws his head back, his hands desperately grabbing you. "it feels so good. see, you didn't even need practice." you giggle, taking him out of your mouth. "i still wanted to practice on you." your words cling to his heart; his mouth is hung open slightly. "is that so?" you nod, "yes, isn't this fun?" you stroke his length, looking deep into his eyes. before he can think of a response, you work his length again. you take as much as you can of him in the back of your throat. he grips the back of your neck, his hips carelessly rutting against your face. "fuck, baby." you use your hands to jerk what couldn't fit in your mouth.

he's crumbling beneath you from the pleasure, his eyes are on your every move, determined to remember everything about this instance. you take him out of your mouth to breathe again, you jerk him. "you're really good at this." he compliments, and you gleam, "thank you." you go down on him again, working hard to get him to his climax. "can you cum for me, eds?" he groans at your words. you spit on his cock, looking up at him. "i want to cum baby, keep going." you do as he asked, working him with urgency. he moans. you keep the same pace, sticking your tongue out. he lets out a low groan, strings of his cum drench your face. his chest is heaving, his face red. you head to his bathroom to clean your face off.

you join him again, "thank you for teaching me how to give head." he chuckles, "i barely helped you." you shrug. "damn that guy is going to be lucky." you grin, looking away. he looks at you for a moment, "what?" he quirks. "what if i told you, there wasn't a date?" he leans back, shock settling over him. "why did you ask for advice then?" you bluntly admit, "i just wanted an excuse to suck your dick." he smiles brightly, "y'know you could have just asked."

"i didn't know how to bring it up." he shakes his head. "you are just full of surprises." you decide to be bold, so you lean forward and initiate a kiss. he kisses back, his hands wrapping around your waist. he lifts you up, pulling you on his lap. you run your hands through his hair, he softly bites your lip before pulling away. "i really like you." he states. "i really like you, eddie." he smirks, "can i take you on a date?" you bite your lip, trying to hide your smile. "i would love that." you spent the rest of the night cuddling and talking with eddie.

<3

[ladybirdswritings]

INVISIBLE STRING, AU — clark kent x reader.

DESCRIPTION: you lock eyes with a charming stranger at a party you’d rather not be at, and now he’s paying you a visit. NOTES - leave me all your thoughts and opinions. i love them <33 | prev part ; next part

two;

People pleaser. Those were the words meant to be scribbled upon your cobbled grave. That thought echoed like a fallen mic as you scurried around your backyard to rearrange the chairs until you deemed them perfect.

“Let’s do a fire pit at your place like old times!” he’d said. Your brother, always so painfully—social. Now sure, a part of you was excited. You’d bought far too many sugared pastries and spiced crackers to count, along with moscato and cheese to pair with it all. Even so, the thought of actually sitting with everyone and opening your pretty mouth was already exhausting you.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you grabbed it quick. Your brother’s name mirrored in your eyes.

“What’s up, Axel?” Christ, you sounded cheery.

“Hey, uh—everything is set up, right?”

The tone of his voice coiled around your nerves like a snake.

“No. Why.” You were exasperated, because you could suspect his next words before he even uttered them.

“Well, I told everyone to start heading over, so—”

Your eyes widened to saucers, skin heated to a powdered pink. You shook your head in fervor, as if he could see you through the screen.

“Axel, I’m not ready! I’m still in my pajamas, my hair isn’t done, and—”

“Well, the sun already set, and it’s fine. You can just change real quick.”

Frustration settled into your bones like an icy chill. This was not the first time he’d done this. You had pimple patches on your face, your hair in an unruly bun, your brows untamed, and your lips unlined.

Vance would be coming over, that you knew. And you could NOT face him in this state, let alone anyone else.

“Look, traffic is bad anyway, so it may take them a minute. Go change and finish setting up later. It’s fine.”

You could only offer him a frustrated huff before slamming your finger against the red ‘end call’ button, far more aggressively than necessary.

“Fuck.” You breathed into the fresh January chill, rushing inside and whipping your head from side to side to figure out where to even start.

With haste, you tugged the patches from your clammy skin and rushed to the restroom to scrub at your face.

Your hair looked horrendous, so you’d have to slick it back. You slathered on moisturizer and dotted concealer over your skin, pinching bobby pins between your teeth as you tamed your thick waves into a ballerina-like bun.

Your quaint house hummed as the doorbell rang, and your heart plummeted to the pit of your stomach.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You cursed, hiding bobby pins between your silken locks. Seconds passed far too quickly, but you selfishly stole more time as you curled your lashes and glossed your pale lips. It wasn’t enough, you thought, but it would do.

A quick spray of your perfume, and you rushed to the door—stealing a shaky breath before your hand wrapped around the handle and pulled it open to find…

Him.

Hand raised midway to a knock, eyes wide and curious behind his lenses, hair unruly and skin chilled.

“Hi,” he breathed, and your gaze followed Clark’s eyes as they sipped on the sight of you.

It hit you then, as his eyes trailed down your years-old grad tee, your pink hedgehog pajama pants, and your awfully fluffy Snoopy slippers.

You forgot to change.

Red blossomed like wildflowers, the chill from the door not enough to ice your heated skin and wide eyes. And there it was again, that lazy, lopsided grin.

You had half a mind to glance behind him, wondering what girl he’d undoubtedly brought along—but he was alone.

You’d kill your brother later, for not telling you he’d be attending. An entire stranger.

“Hi,” you breathed back, exasperated, laughing in coy embarrassment at yourself before stepping aside and motioning for him to come in.

His hair brushed against the top of the doorframe as he gently stepped inside, severe blue-gray eyes scanning over your home, which was still very much under construction. Still very much a mess.

He grasped strawberries and dark chocolate in his veined hands, and your stomach threatened to demand some—you covered it with a cough.

“Your home is beautiful,” he offered, soft, turning to you as you shut the door and stood awkwardly against it.

“Thanks,” you murmured, wishing the floor would part and tug you away.

He peered at you for a moment, mouth set in a thin line before his lip twitched. That pinch, which now seemed familiar to you, settled between his brows as invisible gears turned in his head.

“I interrupted you, didn’t I?”

You winced, ready to lie to be polite. You couldn’t find the energy.

“It’s fine,” you began, but he shook his head. “No, see—I think those fluffy hedgehog pajamas are perfect bonfire attire. But please, I can manage for a little bit. Is the fire started?”

Something about the way he spoke. So smooth and contemplative, his eyes seeming to scan over you and your words as if truly considering them… it blossomed a warmth in your tummy.

You simmered it as soon as it burned. He was definitely spoken for and simply being polite. That was what you decided. No man that pretty, that perfect, could be interested in someone like… you. Soft, shy, you.

With an exasperated sigh, you shook your head, pinching the space between your brows.

“My brother was supposed to be here early to help, but he… yeah.”

You let your hand fall to your side to find that lopsided grin on full display. Cautiously, he placed the strawberries and chocolate atop the cardboard box holding your new side table inside. He motioned to them,

“For the bonfire. Let me? I can get it started for you while you… yeah.” He finished similarly to you, huffing a laugh at himself, which you mirrored.

You gazed on at him, wondering for a moment if you were an utter fool to allow a stranger to play with fire in your backyard as you tore the hedgehog pajamas from your clammy skin.

No intuitive warning came.

“That would help me a lot,” you whispered, shifting from the door as you led him to the backyard.

Immediately as you stepped through the doorway, the chill licked at your skin. Your breaths were clouds pushing past your teeth, hands wrapped around yourself immediately.

“T-the—oh,” you paused, feeling brown suede blanket your goose-kissed skin.

“Is this all the wood?” He didn’t so much as offer you any acknowledgment that he’d laid his jacket over your shoulders—changing the subject before it could even be visited. Your next inhale was laced with honeyed whiskey and chai.

You could only nod, hugging the suede closer as he lifted the bag of wood. His muscles flexed beneath his knit long sleeve, and you knew then that you were staring simply because you noticed.

The pinch in his brows returned as he pushed his glasses up with his wrist and turned the bag in his veined hands.

“This is more than enough,” he spoke, shifting his eyes to you with that same lazy grin. “Go get warm, I’ll get it started.”

You were eager to comply…

By the time you’d finished properly combing and braiding your hair, lathering sparkled amber upon your skin and vanilla on your neck, you were shaky. Though he eased your nerves, you felt every bit impolite as you swiped through your sweaters—settling on a cream one with navy lacings.

The doorbell didn’t ring once, and your brother was still yet to arrive. So either fate was bored or luck was handsy. You winced as you scanned your impression. Pretty, warm but pretty.

Despite not wanting to face him, you made your way outside to find him seated by a scorching fire, legs outstretched and a book pinned in his hand. His glasses fell lazily on the bridge of his nose, and his attention snapped up once you approached.

You could tell by the bookmark scattered in pink bows that it was your copy of Belladonna he held in his hand. You flushed a rich scarlet.

“I’m sorry,” he offered, pulling it to a close and setting it aside. “You left it out here, and I got curious.”

You shook your head, gently sitting in the chair vacant beside him. His jacket settled in your lap like a fragrant blanket.

“Don’t apologize, I love that book.”

You spoke so low, the breeze nearly stole it. You sniffled as you outstretched your hands toward the flickering flames, sighing contentedly as the fire warmed your skin.

“We never finished our conversation,” he declared, and you glanced over to find that curious blue-gray gaze already peering at you. His lip twitched, “It’ll probably be easier now that there’s no more football talk in the background, hmm?”

You grinned, soft but prominent. “You don’t like football?”

He outstretched a hand of his own, waggling his fingers against the smoke. “I love football, but I love books more.”

You hummed at that, nodding your pretty head as you considered his words. “That makes no sense,” you decided, more to yourself than anything, but… he huffed a hearty laugh.

“No? How come? Do my boots and flannels give me away? Or maybe it’s the glasses, I look like an imposter, don’t I?”

Suddenly, like the fire, he was alive. Comfortable and burning with low embers. It extended to you, perhaps rubbed off of his very jacket. Perhaps it was the lack of others that made you relax your tense shoulders. Perhaps there was a spell in his laugh.

“No—god no. I just mean… well, in my experience, men that look like they’ve torn themselves from a Pinterest board don’t often act like they’ve torn themselves from a Pinterest board.”

You were both complimenting his looks, which he was very much used to, and undermining his character, which he was not at all used to.

His lip twitched.

He liked it.

“Tell me your favorite book, Y/N,” he decided, his voice a soft lick of seduction you couldn’t quite understand, with your pretty eyes fluttering to anywhere else but his own.

His voice settled deep in your tummy, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to be selfish. If there was a model waiting for him at home, you’d mourn the heartbreak of the revelation later. Now?

“That’s an awful question to ask an avid reader.”

His grin was a slice of the moon in a sea of darkness, and you found yourself admiring it for a stolen moment.

“You’re right. Maybe I was testing you.”

You could only purse your pretty lips at that, “Did I pass?”

A moment of silence fell between you both as he glazed his blue-gray eyes over your flushed face. Slowly, oh so slowly, drinking you in like warm honey. When he was satisfied, his lazed grin appeared once more.

“Yeah,” he whispered simply, a ringlet of his unruly waves falling to a swirl upon his forehead. You itched to trace it, to push it back.

You were no expert in the slightest. Flirtations always flew right over your busy head. But now, with only the lick of fire reminding you that the world was indeed moving, you found his eyes locked upon your glossed lips. Or were you mad?

“Do you want a strawberry?” he whispered, eyes still considering what colors were scattered in sparkles on your pout.

“Yes,” you squeaked, and it was enough to break him from whatever spell your sparkled gloss had him under. He blinked, clearing his throat as he reached over and pulled a plump berry from its Tupperware, handing it to you.

Your fingers brushed, but opposed to pulling away, you both remained there. As if frozen in time, tips of your fingers grazing one another around the berry, your eyes locked where they met, and his locked where you stared.

“Let me take you on a date,” he blurted after far too long a moment, voice deep and laced with an air of nervousness. You froze, wide eyes fluttering up to his own to find mirth or humor. Neither were present.

After a long moment of your silence, your processing, the pinch between his brows returned, and he wrapped a warm palm around your slender fingers. He huffed a laugh at himself, shaking his head. Humor did kiss his gaze then as he found your eyes once more.

“Please.” He corrected.

The berry was trapped between your palms, the only barrier between your hand being held by the handsome stranger. Clark.

And he wanted to take you on a date.

You heard the ring of the doorbell, the approach of the car, and your shoulders tensed once more. His waiting gaze flickered toward the doors in anticipation, and as your silence stretched, he unraveled his fingers from your palm.

“I’m sorry—“ he began, but you quickly interrupted.

“Just say when…”

[novaursa]

Legacy (long live the king)

- Summary: Tywin was the man who saved you from Robert's wrath. He was also the man who doomed you.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Tywin Lannister

- Note: Be aware how the timeline is all over the place and canon doesn't quite match some events of the story.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: strings of time

- Next part: what was promised

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @luniaxi

The Red Keep was quiet that morning, the soft hum of activity muted as you made your way through the winding halls toward Sansa’s chambers. The air smelled faintly of salt and stone, a familiar scent that seemed to linger in every corner of the fortress. You had waited a few days after the marriage between Sansa and Tyrion, giving her space to adjust to the reality of her situation. But now, your concern for her outweighed the necessity of distance.

Ser Barristan followed you closely, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword as always. His presence was a comfort, though you had grown so accustomed to it that you barely noticed him anymore. The two Lannister guards Tywin insisted on also trailed behind at a respectful distance.

As you reached Sansa’s chamber door, you heard the faint rustling of fabric and soft footsteps beyond. You lifted your hand to knock, but before you could, the door opened, revealing a young woman in simple garments, her hair pinned neatly back.

Shae.

The recognition was instant. You’d seen her before, flitting around Sansa as one of her attendants, her presence always discreet but strangely attentive. She froze when she saw you, her eyes widening briefly before she quickly lowered her gaze, her posture stiff.

“My lady,” she said awkwardly, dipping into a shallow curtsy. Her voice was polite, but there was a stiffness in her tone that didn’t escape your notice.

“Shae,” you greeted evenly, inclining your head slightly. “I see you’ve been attending to Lady Sansa.”

“Yes, my lady,” she replied, her words rushed. “I was just… bringing her fresh linens. She’s resting now.”

Her unease was visible, her hands fidgeting with the fabric of her skirts. You studied her for a moment, noting the way her gaze flitted away from yours, unable to hold it for long. There was something guarded in her demeanor, something that hinted at more than the role she claimed.

“Good,” you said finally, your tone calm but edged with curiosity. “Sansa needs someone she can trust.”

Shae nodded quickly, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Of course, my lady. I do everything I can for her.”

You let the silence stretch for a moment, watching as she shifted uncomfortably under your gaze. It wasn’t uncommon for people to act this way around you—your Targaryen blood, your place in the Red Keep, and your closeness to Sansa all carried weight that unsettled many. But with Shae, it felt different. More personal.

“Thank you for your service,” you said finally, your voice softening slightly. “Sansa speaks well of you.”

Shae blinked, a flicker of surprise crossing her face before she nodded again. “Thank you, my lady. I’ll… I’ll leave you to her now.”

She stepped aside quickly, her head bowed as she brushed past you. You watched her retreating form for a moment, your mind turning over what you knew—or suspected—about her. Her relationship with Tyrion was no secret to you, though you had never spoken of it. It was not your place, nor did you see any benefit in bringing it to light. But her discomfort in your presence was something you could not ignore.

“Interesting,” you murmured under your breath as you turned back to the chamber door. Ser Barristan gave you a questioning glance, but you shook your head slightly, dismissing his unspoken query.

You knocked gently on the door and waited for Sansa’s soft voice to call out, “Come in.” When you entered, you found her seated by the window, the morning light casting a golden glow over her auburn hair. She looked up at you with a faint smile, though her eyes were tired, shadows lingering beneath them.

“My lady,” she said, rising to her feet. “I didn’t expect to see you.”

You crossed the room quickly, taking her hands in yours and guiding her back to her seat. “Sansa, please. There’s no need to stand for me.”

She allowed herself to be seated, her smile growing a little warmer. “It’s good to see you.”

“And you,” you replied, pulling a chair closer to sit beside her. “How have you been?”

Sansa hesitated, her gaze dropping to her lap. “I… I’m fine,” she said quietly, though her voice lacked conviction.

You frowned slightly, leaning closer. “Sansa, you don’t need to lie to me. I know this has been difficult for you.”

Her lips trembled, and for a moment, you thought she might cry. But she took a deep breath, steadying herself before meeting your gaze. “Tyrion has been kind,” she said softly. “More than I expected. But it’s still… hard. Everything feels so wrong.”

You squeezed her hands gently, your voice filled with compassion. “I know. And I’m sorry. You deserved better than this.”

She shook her head, a single tear slipping down her cheek. “It’s not your fault. It’s just… it’s all too much sometimes.”

You reached out, brushing the tear away with a gentle touch. “You’re stronger than you know, Sansa. You’ve endured so much already, and you’ll endure this too. I’m here for you, no matter what.”

She nodded, her expression softening as she leaned into your touch. For a moment, the room was silent, the weight of unspoken words hanging between you.

Then, in a quieter voice, she asked, “Do you think… do you think it will ever get better?”

You hesitated, knowing the answer she wanted but unable to lie to her. “I think it will take time,” you said carefully. “But you have allies, Sansa. People who care for you. Hold onto that.”

The room was modest by the standards of the Red Keep, tucked away in a quieter wing where the hum of courtly life was less invasive. You shifted in your chair, trying to find a comfortable position as your swollen belly made even the simplest task a challenge. Olenna Tyrell sat across from you, her sharp eyes glinting with their usual mix of amusement and calculation. To your irritation, Petyr Baelish lingered nearby, leaning casually against the stone wall, his lips curved in a faint, knowing smirk.

“This is an… interesting gathering,” you remarked, folding your hands neatly over your lap. “I wasn’t aware I’d been summoned for such unique company.”

Olenna chuckled, the sound dry but warm. “My dear, you flatter us. And here I thought you’d be delighted to spend time with two of the most intriguing minds in the capital.”

You arched an eyebrow, glancing briefly at Baelish before returning your attention to Olenna. “Intriguing, perhaps. But intrigue can be exhausting, and I’m in no mood for games.”

Olenna’s smile widened, and she leaned forward slightly, resting her hands on the head of her cane. “Very well, I’ll spare you the pleasantries. I love my granddaughter, you see. Margaery is as clever as she is beautiful, and she will make an excellent queen. But the king…” Her expression soured, and her voice dropped to a conspiratorial tone. “Joffrey is a menace. He’s dangerous, unstable, and entirely unsuited for the throne.”

Your gaze narrowed slightly, though you kept your tone neutral. “I cannot argue with that assessment. But why are you telling me this?”

“Because,” Olenna said, her eyes locking onto yours, “Joffrey is not just a threat to my granddaughter. He’s a threat to the realm, to all of us. Including you and your child.”

At her words, your hand instinctively moved to rest on your belly. The thought of Joffrey’s unhinged malice extending toward your unborn child sent a shiver through you, but you kept your composure. “I’ve no doubt he poses a danger to everyone around him,” you said carefully. “But what do you expect me to do about it?”

Olenna smiled faintly, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “I don’t expect you to do anything, my dear. I simply thought you’d like to know where certain parties stand.”

Baelish chose this moment to speak, his voice smooth and unhurried. “The queen-to-be is beloved, and her marriage will solidify her position. But with a king like Joffrey, beloved can quickly turn to forgotten, or worse. Surely, Lady Lannister, you understand the importance of securing the future for those we care about.”

You turned your gaze to him, your expression cool. “Spare me the riddles, Lord Baelish. If you have something to say, say it plainly.”

Baelish smirked, his head tilting slightly. “I merely observe. And my observations tell me that those who act swiftly tend to find themselves… in better positions.”

Olenna waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, enough, Petyr. She doesn’t need your oily little hints.” Her sharp gaze returned to you, softening slightly. “You’re here because you’re intelligent, my dear. And I value intelligence in a city that seems to have it in such short supply.”

You tilted your head, curiosity flickering in your expression. “And what exactly do you want from me, Lady Olenna?”

Olenna leaned back in her chair, her fingers tapping lightly on the head of her cane. “Nothing… yet. But tell me, what do you know of a certain poison called the strangler?”

The room seemed to grow quieter at her question, the weight of her words hanging in the air. Baelish’s smirk grew more pronounced, his eyes darting between you and Olenna with barely concealed amusement.

You met Olenna’s gaze steadily, your mind racing as you considered your response. Whatever game she was playing, it was clear you were now a part of it.

The grand hall of the Red Keep was resplendent, its banners and tapestries shimmering in the warm glow of countless candles. The air was heavy with the mingling scents of roasted meats, fresh bread, and spiced wine as the royal wedding celebration reached its peak. You sat beside Tywin, your back straight, your hands carefully folded over the swell of your belly. The weight of your pregnancy was a constant presence, but you refused to let it compromise your regal posture.

The crown of your braided hair shimmered faintly in the light, and you wore a deep crimson gown trimmed with gold, an unmistakable nod to your Targaryen heritage now blended with the Lannister lion. Tywin, ever composed, sat beside you, his expression an impassive mask as he observed the festivities. His sharp gaze missed nothing, though his attention occasionally flicked to you.

You let your eyes sweep over the hall, first landing on Olenna Tyrell, who sat further down the high table. The old woman caught your glance, her sharp eyes twinkling with mischief, and she gave you the faintest of nods. You inclined your head slightly in return, a silent acknowledgment of her presence before shifting your gaze to where Sansa and Tyrion sat.

Sansa’s expression was a mask of polite detachment, her hands folded tightly in her lap, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of sadness. Tyrion sat beside her, his goblet of wine barely touched, his mouth set in a grim line as he observed the revelry. Your heart ached for the girl who had once been like a sister to you, though you knew no comforting words could ease her current predicament.

Further along the table, you noticed Cersei, seated beside Tywin’s other side, her expression one of carefully cultivated disdain. Her green eyes occasionally flicked to you, though she said nothing, her attention mostly focused on the goblet of wine in her hand.

From the corner of your eye, you caught sight of Jaime, newly returned to the capital after his long captivity. He stood near the edge of the hall, his golden hand gleaming in the light as he exchanged a few quiet words with Ser Loras Tyrell. His presence was both familiar and strange, the absence of his sword hand a glaring reminder of how much had changed. He caught your gaze briefly, his expression unreadable before he turned his attention back to his conversation.

The royal couple was at the center of the hall, all eyes on them. Joffrey, resplendent in his golden tunic and crown, basked in the attention like a vain peacock, his laughter grating and overly loud. Margaery, ever the diplomat, played her role flawlessly, her smiles radiant, though her eyes occasionally flickered with calculated coolness. The crowd roared with approval as Joffrey raised his goblet to toast the union, his words dripping with arrogance as he mocked anyone and everyone who dared challenge his rule.

You shifted slightly in your seat, feeling a sudden, sharp pang in your abdomen. Your breath caught for a moment, and your hand instinctively rested on your belly. The pain subsided quickly, leaving only a faint ache, but it was enough to unsettle you.

“Is something wrong?” Tywin’s low voice broke through your thoughts, his sharp eyes already fixed on you.

You shook your head, forcing a faint smile to your lips. “All is well,” you replied quietly, your tone steady. “Just the usual discomforts.”

Tywin’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, his expression unreadable, before he nodded and turned his attention back to the proceedings. Despite his composed exterior, you could tell he was watching you closely, his concern evident in the way his hand rested subtly closer to yours on the table.

The hall erupted into applause as the wedding pie was brought in, a massive confection wheeled out by servants, its crust decorated with golden lions and roses. The guests leaned forward in anticipation, their cheers growing louder as the spectacle approached the high table.

You sat back slightly, allowing the momentary distraction to draw attention away from you. Your hand brushed over your belly again, the earlier pang still lingering faintly in your mind. You stole another glance at Sansa, who was watching the pie with detached politeness, her hands trembling slightly. Olenna, meanwhile, observed the scene with a faint smirk, her cane resting beside her as she leaned slightly forward.

As Joffrey stood, gesturing dramatically for his sword to cut the pie, you felt the weight of the moment settle over the room. You exchanged a brief look with Tywin, who raised an eyebrow as if to silently ask if you were still well. You gave him the faintest of nods, determined not to let anything mar the carefully constructed image of composure you had worked so hard to maintain.

The pie was set before the king, its golden crust glinting in the light as Joffrey raised his sword, a gleeful grin spreading across his face. The crowd held its breath in anticipation, and you felt a dread in the air that went far beyond the spectacle itself.

The young king held his sword aloft, grinning like a child about to open a prized gift. Margaery stood beside him, ever the picture of grace, her hands delicately clasped as she encouraged the crowd’s cheers with her radiant smile.

The blade came down with a dramatic flourish, slicing through the pie. A flurry of pigeons erupted into the air, their frantic wings scattering crumbs and flour as they soared over the assembled guests. Laughter and applause echoed through the hall, the spectacle delighting the nobles as Joffrey puffed out his chest, basking in their adulation.

Margaery reached out to pluck a piece of pie and lifted it to Joffrey’s mouth, her expression demure as she fed him. The young king accepted it with exaggerated relish, chewing loudly as the crowd continued to cheer. A goblet of wine was handed to Margaery by a servant standing near Olenna, and she, in turn, presented it to Joffrey with a delicate bow.

Your eyes flicked to Olenna for a fleeting moment, catching the faintest twitch of her lips as she turned her attention back to the spectacle. A chill ran down your spine as you realized what was about to unfold.

At the same time, another sharp pain shot through your abdomen, this one far more intense than before. You stifled a gasp, your hand flying to your belly as the sensation nearly stole your breath. Beside you, Tywin’s hand immediately found yours, his sharp gaze snapping to your face.

“What is it?” he asked in a low, urgent tone, his other hand already bracing your arm.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words were lost as the scene before you erupted into chaos.

Joffrey froze mid-laugh, his expression contorting into one of confusion and pain. His hand flew to his throat as he stumbled backward, knocking over the goblet of wine. The crowd’s cheers faltered, confusion rippling through the hall as the young king began to gag violently. His face turned a sickly shade of purple, and his eyes bulged as he clawed at his neck.

“Joffrey!” Cersei’s scream pierced the air as she rushed toward her son, her golden gown billowing behind her. She dropped to her knees beside him, her hands fluttering uselessly as she tried to help him. “What’s happening? Help him! Someone help him!”

The hall descended into chaos. Lords and ladies stood from their seats, some frozen in shock, others shouting orders or calling for the maesters. Guards pushed through the crowd, their armor clanking as they fought to reach the king.

Tywin rose to his feet, his hand never leaving yours as he pulled you up beside him. His tall frame loomed protectively over you as his sharp eyes scanned the room, assessing the situation with cold efficiency. “Stay close,” he commanded, his voice low but firm.

Another wave of pain rippled through you, this time so intense that you couldn’t suppress the gasp that escaped your lips. Your knees buckled slightly, and Tywin caught you immediately, his arm wrapping around your waist. His gaze snapped to your face, his eyes narrowing as realization dawned.

“You’re in labor,” he said, his tone clipped but tinged with alarm.

You nodded weakly, clutching his arm as another contraction seized you. The cacophony of the hall faded into the background as your world narrowed to the pain coursing through your body and the steady presence of Tywin beside you.

“Come,” he said decisively, his hand tightening around yours. “We’re leaving.”

Before you could protest, he began to guide you out of the hall, his movements quick but discreet. The guards who had been stationed nearby fell into step behind you, forming a protective barrier as Tywin led you toward the exit.

Behind you, the chaos in the hall reached a fever pitch as Joffrey convulsed on the floor, foam and blood spilling from his mouth. Cersei’s screams echoed through the space, her voice raw with grief and fury as she cradled her dying son.

“Don’t let anyone leave!” Cersei shrieked, her voice cutting through the noise. “He’s been poisoned! Find who did this!”

Tywin didn’t look back, his focus entirely on you as he guided you through the corridors of the Red Keep. Your breaths came in short, shallow gasps as the contractions grew stronger, each one threatening to overwhelm you.

“You should have told me,” Tywin said sharply, though his tone was tempered by the urgency of the situation. “You should have said something sooner.”

“There was no time,” you managed between breaths, gripping his arm tightly as another wave of pain hit.

Tywin muttered something under his breath, his expression hardening as he quickened his pace. “You’ll be taken to your chambers,” he said, his voice firm. “I’ll have the maester brought to you immediately.”

You nodded weakly, too focused on the mounting pain to argue. The world around you blurred as Tywin’s strong arm guided you forward, his presence a steady anchor in the chaos.

By the time you reached your chambers, the shouts and cries from the hall had faded into the distance. Tywin eased you into a chair, his hand lingering on your shoulder as he barked orders to the guards outside.

“Fetch Pycelle,” he commanded, his tone brooking no argument. “And send for the midwives.”

As the door closed behind him, Tywin knelt briefly at your side, his hand brushing yours. “You’ll be fine,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “Do you hear me? You’ll be fine.”

You nodded, gripping his hand tightly as the pain consumed you, trusting in his presence even as the world around you seemed to tilt into chaos.

The air was filled with the scent of herbs and sweat as your labor dragged on, each hour stretching endlessly as the midwives moved around you like shadows, their voices low and soothing. You gripped the edge of the sturdy wooden chair, pacing slowly across the room, refusing to give in to the pain that racked your body.

Your breaths came in sharp bursts, but you swallowed down every scream, refusing to let the agony reduce you to helplessness. A low yelp escaped your lips, and you bit down hard, your nails digging into the back of the chair as you braced yourself against the next contraction. The midwives followed you like silent sentinels, their hands hovering near but never daring to touch unless you allowed it.

Pycelle stood awkwardly to the side, his gray beard quivering as he wrung his hands. “My lady,” he began, his voice wheedling and nasal, “this is highly irregular. You should be lying down. I must examine you to ensure—”

“Out,” you snapped, your voice sharper than you intended, though the pain lent it an edge you couldn’t temper. “You will not touch me, Pycelle. I will not have your hands near me.”

Pycelle flinched but recovered quickly, turning his imploring gaze to Tywin, who stood near the hearth with his arms crossed, his sharp eyes fixed on you like a hawk watching its prey. “Lord Tywin,” Pycelle said, his voice bordering on desperation, “surely you understand the danger of allowing this to proceed without my expertise.”

Tywin didn’t even glance at him, his voice low and firm as he replied, “You will remain where you are, Pycelle. She has made her wishes clear.”

“But—” Pycelle began, only to be silenced by the slightest flicker of Tywin’s gaze in his direction, cold and unyielding.

The maester’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, but he wisely said no more, retreating to a corner of the room to stew in his indignation.

The contractions grew stronger, each one a wave of fire and steel that left you gripping the chair until your knuckles turned white. The midwives murmured encouragements, their hands deft as they prepared towels and basins of water. You moved methodically, pacing the chamber to distract yourself from the pain, your breaths hissing between clenched teeth.

“Lady Y/N,” one of the midwives said softly, “you’re progressing well. It won’t be much longer now.”

You nodded tersely, unable to summon the strength for words. Tywin remained silent, his presence a steady anchor in the room. You felt his gaze on you, assessing, calculating, but also something else—concern, perhaps, though he would never admit it.

A soft knock at the door broke the tense rhythm of the room. Ser Barristan opened it slightly, allowing Varys to slip inside, his silk robes whispering against the stone floor. His expression was unreadable, though his eyes carried a hint of urgency as he approached Tywin.

“My lord,” Varys said in a low voice, inclining his head slightly. “May I have a word?”

Tywin hesitated, his eyes flickering to you. You met his gaze briefly, nodding faintly to indicate you could manage without him for a moment. With a curt nod, he followed Varys out of the room, the door closing softly behind them.

In the corridor, the air was cooler, the sounds of the bustling keep faint in the distance. Tywin turned to Varys, his expression hard. “Speak.”

Varys leaned closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “The queen regent has accused your son Tyrion of poisoning King Joffrey. He has been arrested and taken to the dungeons.”

Tywin’s jaw tightened, but his voice remained calm. “And Lady Sansa?”

Varys hesitated, his hands clasped in front of him. “Gone, my lord. There is no trace of her. It seems she fled the Red Keep shortly after the chaos began.”

A flicker of irritation crossed Tywin’s face, though he quickly masked it. “And how is the queen?”

“Distraught, as you can imagine,” Varys replied, his tone neutral. “She demands swift justice. She believes Tyrion acted out of ambition, though… I am not certain she truly believes it. The accusation is convenient, nothing more.”

Tywin exhaled slowly, his eyes narrowing. “I will deal with it. Ensure that no further word of Lady Sansa’s disappearance spreads for now. The last thing we need is more speculation.”

“Of course, my lord,” Varys said, bowing slightly. “And… the lady within?” He glanced toward the door leading to your chambers.

“She will deliver safely,” Tywin said curtly, though there was a flicker of something softer in his tone. “Her child is my priority.”

Varys nodded, his expression unreadable as he straightened. “As you say, my lord. I shall see to it that the necessary measures are taken.”

Tywin watched him go, his mind already turning over the implications of Sansa’s disappearance and the precarious situation unfolding in the wake of Joffrey’s death. But for now, his focus was on you, the woman carrying his legacy. With a final glance down the corridor, he re-entered the chamber, his gaze immediately seeking you out as another contraction gripped your body.

You looked up at him, your face pale but determined, and for a moment, the chaos of the outside world seemed far away. Tywin crossed the room, standing at your side as the midwives worked diligently, his presence a silent promise of unwavering resolve.

The labor dragged on into the deep hours of the night. The room felt stifling now. You lay on the bed, propped up by pillows, your body drenched in sweat as the contractions came faster and harder. The midwives hovered around you, still murmuring words of encouragement, while Pycelle stood off to the side, his face drawn and pale with irritation.

“My lady,” Pycelle began again, his voice quivering with that patronizing tone you had come to loathe, “you must allow me to intervene. It is my duty to ensure—”

“Your duty?” you snapped, your voice sharp despite the pain coursing through you. Your hand gripped the edge of the bed, your knuckles white. “Your duty failed my mother. You call yourself a maester, yet you stood by while she suffered through endless labors—while her children died! I will not let you touch me.”

Pycelle flinched at the venom in your words, his beard trembling as he drew himself up. “That was many years ago, my lady,” he protested weakly. “I have gained much experience since then.”

“Enough,” Tywin cut in, his voice cold and final as he stood at the foot of the bed, his arms crossed. His sharp gaze pinned Pycelle in place. “She has made her wishes clear. You will not interfere unless absolutely necessary.”

Pycelle opened his mouth as if to argue but thought better of it, his jaw snapping shut with an audible click. He shuffled back into his corner once more, muttering under his breath.

Another contraction hit, and you bit down hard on the scream that threatened to escape, a low growl rumbling in your throat instead. The midwives rushed to your side, dabbing your forehead with a damp cloth and urging you to breathe through the pain.

“You’re doing well, my lady,” one of them said softly, her voice soothing. “It won’t be much longer now.”

You nodded weakly, your breaths coming in shallow gasps as you braced yourself for the next wave.

Just then, a knock at the door broke the tense atmosphere. One of Tywin’s personal guards stepped inside this time, bowing quickly before approaching him. He leaned in, murmuring something low and urgent into Tywin’s ear. Tywin’s expression hardened, and with a curt nod, he turned and left the room.

You watched him go, a flicker of unease curling in your chest, but the next contraction stole your attention, leaving you clutching the bed sheets as the pain consumed you.

Outside the chamber, Tywin strode down the corridor, his sharp footsteps echoing off the stone walls. He found Cersei waiting for him, her golden hair disheveled, her face flushed with anger. The fury in her emerald eyes was palpable, and she didn’t bother with pleasantries.

“How dare you leave us in the midst of this chaos?” she hissed, stepping forward to block his path. “Joffrey is dead, murdered before our eyes, and you—you—leave to tend to your new wife? Have you no shame?”

Tywin’s gaze was cold as he regarded her, his voice cutting like a blade. “Mind your tone, Cersei. This is neither the time nor the place for your dramatics.”

“Dramatics?” she spat, her voice rising. “My son is dead! The king is dead! And you abandoned the hall, leaving me to deal with the fallout!”

“Joffrey’s death was tragic, but it changes nothing,” Tywin said, his tone measured and controlled. “The succession is clear. Tommen will be crowned, and we will move forward. Your grief does not excuse insubordination.”

“Insubordination?” Cersei’s voice trembled with fury as she stepped closer, her hands clenched at her sides. “You dare speak to me of insubordination after you allowed this to happen? You left us vulnerable, him vulnerable, and now he’s dead! You failed him, Father.”

Tywin’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, a flicker of genuine anger crossed his features. “I failed him?” he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. “You forget yourself, Cersei. It was your indulgence, your inability to control him, that led to this. Joffrey was a liability, and you know it.”

“How dare you!” she hissed, her voice breaking. “He was my son!”

“And a disgrace to this house,” Tywin snapped, his voice sharp enough to cut. “You may grieve, but do not lay the blame at my feet. Joffrey was your creation.”

The argument had escalated into a full-blown confrontation, their voices echoing down the corridor as they hurled accusations at one another.

“You think you can replace him with Tommen? With that soft, malleable boy?” Cersei demanded, her voice trembling. “You think you can replace me with your Targaryen wife and her bastard child?”

Tywin’s eyes blazed with fury, and he stepped closer, his towering presence bearing down on her. “Mind your tongue, Cersei,” he growled. “You are walking a dangerous line.”

Before she could retort, a sharp, piercing cry echoed from the direction of the chamber. Both of them froze, the sound cutting through their argument like a knife.

“The child,” Cersei whispered, her face pale as she turned toward the sound.

Tywin’s expression shifted, the anger fading into something colder, more calculating. Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode back toward the chamber, leaving Cersei standing alone in the corridor, her face a mask of fury and disbelief.

[tinygrove]

Decent Man Pt. 2

The first part

Pairing: Cregan Stark/fem!reader

A/N: This ones a little longer than the last one. Maybe a little more suggestive but nothing wild just kissing. Not sure if I should make another part?

Summary: The follow up to the original post. You continue to navigate your rushed and arranged marriage to the Lord of Winterfell, but he is much more earnest than you believed.

As Cregan had mentioned, there was hardly any courting to begin with. It seemed the only thing you learned about him was his parentage and more information on his family line than you knew what to do with. Perhaps you dwelled on the matter for too long, the last bit of light was gone from the horizon and the dim candlelight could not do much for you. Sleep would surely be hard to find as a result of your worrying, or maybe you were just homesick. Perhaps you could try and fetch the maester for a draught once you've changed.

Reaching behind you, you unlace the rest of your gown. It’s an ivory silk embroidered with the details of your house sigil. You try to free yourself of your corset but a string has been caught on some invisible clasp. 

“I forgot to mention,” Cregan falters for a moment as he realizes his intrusion, he seems like he might avert his gaze but his eyes never drift from you. Of course they stay firmly fixed above your neckline. “I am sorry, I did not realize you were…” What you have on under your gown is more revealing but you are still clothed, you feel no shame. Besides, if your lord husband cannot see you in only this who can? Your hair has become slightly unkempt as well, no longer so tidy and pinned but loose and deviating from its original style. You swear at one point you could see Cregan’s mouth slightly agape but you don’t dare to comment on it. 

“It’s alright, we are wed now are we not? And, I cannot seem to free myself from this corset.” You’re not sure where all this sudden bravery has come from but if you are going to be married to the fiercest man in the North you should wield it more often. Cregan composes himself with impressive swiftness and makes his way behind you. Just before reaching out to touch you he stops himself as if he’s been caught in the act. 

“Shall I fetch one of the ladies in your service to assist you?” He’s so close that you can feel his warm breath on the side of your neck and by then you’ve made up your mind. 

“No, it's fine, I wouldn’t want to interrupt them. Do you think you could,” Before you can finish your sentence you feel the tips of his fingers graze your back through the fabric as he carefully unlaces you. It seems as if his hands have left invisible indentations on your skin, long after he’s pulled away you feel his touch. “Thank you.” 

He turns away from you now, heading towards the wardrobe where a slim section has been filled with what little clothes you brought with you. He picks out a thicker cloak you’ve brought, not nearly warm enough to brave the worst of the northern weather but good enough to sleep in. 

“Will this do my lady? I could lend you one of mine own as well if you do not mind.” He must’ve noticed the goosebumps rising on your skin. Unbeknownst to your husband it was from more than just the cold.

“I would like that, but I think first I must admit; I've been far too hasty to judge. You, by all accounts seem to be a truly decent man and I know we still do not know each other well but,” You need to take a deep breath to continue as heat rushes to your face. “Perhaps we might simply share the bed, as any couple would? That would surely keep the cold at bay.” Evidently your husband has become flustered as well, a red flush creeps up his neck and face. Barely visible to you but all the more endearing in the dim light. 

“Are you sure, we need not make haste, my lady. I know this marriage was somewhat rushed, for the both of us and there is no need to prove anything to me.” It was not lost on you that this marriage was advantageous, for more reasons than one. Arranged marriage was not something you looked forward to. As naive as it may be, you always hoped to marry someone you’d already come to love. Maybe some gallant knight or Lord, handsome and strong. But what's more likely to last is a marriage built on trust rather than infatuation. You have all your life to love your lord husband, tonight you can trust him.

“Yes I know. I'm grateful for the patience you've shown me but I think it is no longer necessary. You're an honorable man, I can see that plainly now, I should've seen it from leagues away. I'm sure.” You take his hands in yours, as he once did and the blush on his face only becomes stronger. You lead him to the bed and urge him to sit, he leaves space between his legs for you to stand. All the nerves have dissipated by now, no room for hesitation or second thoughts. You place an almost feather light kiss on his cheek. “One for your kindness,” You kiss his other cheek as well, much more earnestly this time. “And another for your generosity.” 

His eyes cannot seem to part from yours now, ardent and serious. “There are many qualities I’d like to praise you for as well but I am not sure there are enough hours in the night.” He cups your face in his hands and kisses you, firm but passionate. His lips, like the rest of him are warm and all encompassing, you couldn’t pull away if you wanted to. You have to will yourself not to chase them when he parts from you. It’s nothing like the kiss you shared during the wedding, quick and chaste. “That was for your compassion.” A large thumb swipes against your cheek and you can’t help but lean into it. “Shall I give you another for your loyalty?” 

“Please.” This one lasts much longer, his hands have drifted to your waist now and your hands rest on broad shoulders. His lips press into yours strongly but he doesn’t demand anything of you. Even as he runs his tongue over your kiss-swollen lips he’s considerate. When you separate it’s with a contented hum and an understanding that if neither of you sleep now you never will. “Perhaps we should retire?” You suggest more than ask, snuffing out the candle by your bedside. 

“Yes, I think that would be best.” Before you can fully remove yourself from his grasp he holds onto the thin fabric of your shift to keep you still. In nothing but moonlight the only part of him you can see is the shine of gray eyes. 

“We were made one by this union, whether it was what either of us longed for marriage is our duty now. However there is no other woman I’d wish to be bound to in sight of the Gods. You are mine now, and I am yours.”

[atsulovee]

✧ ─ · · KINKTOBER DAY TWO !! · · ─ ✧

To Thee, My Eternal Love

Knife play - Vampire!Dazai x Fem!Reader ➻❥ content warnings: blood, threat of bodily harm and mutilation, implied kidnapping, slight yandere!dazai, period typical misogyny (early 1800s), mentioned abuse. ➻❥ word count: 2.2k ➻❥ notes: this one specifically made me glad i put a 3.5k cap on my word count for kinktober lol. i kept catching myself getting way too wordsy so i had to cut a lot of unneeded stuff.

"The red moon hung heavy in the sky, consuming and tearing every little star in its light. Your husband was slotted between your legs, one hand keeping you leg on his hip and the other pointing the silver dagger at your esophagus. Like the old renaissance paintings of the devil, Dazai was handsome."

“To thee, my eternal love,

Even from so far, I hear the lovely beat of your heart, the alluring race of your pulse. Each night as I wake, your beating heart is all I care to listen for. I have not seen the sun in centuries, nor heard the call of morning roosters, but when the heat of your blood is my replacement, I find I do not mind. 

My beautiful mortal darling, as ephemeral as the petals of a spring flower. I, they call a vampire, a forager of blood, but it is beauty that I seek. Under the cover of darkness, near the churchyard, was when I found you. A muse, an angel, sitting at a grave. So young, so beautiful. I just could not bear letting your beauty be marred and restrained by the common village folk. I knew then you walked in a murky world- one that no one else could understand. You’re far too slight for such burdens. I would carry the world for you, slaughter villages, burn down whomever you ask. It was time to strike, for love could not wait. You fought, and you cried, relieved to be rid of mortal plights. 

I am not the monster you wish to believe I am. My undead heart has not beat in centuries- however, when I am with you, I feel the faintest tremors of a pulse. I’ll live a long time yet, my dear, and I could not bear an eternity without you. The day you die will be the day I’m destined to wander this world more helpless and alone than I have ever been. I’ll call your name to the moon at night, knowing there will be no answer.

And that is why I must never let you pass on from this world. 

Your Darling, Dearest, Dead, Osamu Dazai.”

. . .

To be the perfect doll is to be quiet, docile, and moldable. To be a wife is to be the same. A delicate puppet on silk strings, meant to be taken care of, meant to bend to every will and whim of their man. 

Cursed with your womb, you are all but a fully autonomous person in the eyes of the masses. A woman in the early 1800s has one duty to her family- marry young and above your social standing. Never step a foot out of line and never pull at your own strings. 

You were his- irrevocably, incredibly, dangerously his. Dazai had long made sure of that. 

His hand clasps your own and pins it above your head, a silent command from him to listen as you lie on the satin sheets. In a flurry, your hair splayed across the bed like a halo as blood red light filled the room. To Dazai, you were the light of heaven he was destined to never see. A gift from a God that despised him- perhaps to make up for His transgressions. 

Dazai’s deep, steady breaths puffed against your neck, even as his narrow hips pressed flush against yours. “My darling…” He sighs, never once blinking. Dazai couldn’t stand the idea of taking his eyes off of you for even a second. Each moment, each minute, each hour was so special, so precious. Each second that Dazai dared to spend not gazing upon your beauty was a second wasted. You were human still. And you could so easily leave him, slipping away into eternity.

His hips stilled against yours, the tip of his cock gently kissing your cervix. “My darling.” Dazai nearly whines, leaning forward until his chest pressed against yours just so his lips could gently kiss at your pulse point. Your blood was warm, much like the sun he had not seen in decades, and it was sweet just like the food he could no longer taste. “I adore you.”

Dazai was always a desperate, pitiful man. One who longed for things greater than him and shrunk away when his wishes were fulfilled. But you, his dearest human, was one thing he could never shy away from. 

You were lonely tucked away in his home, but you were safe. There was so much beyond his walls that could harm a human and you were simply not allowed to die by anyone’s hand but his own. 

His cold hand drags up your torso, leaving goosebumps in its wake, and up to your chest. You were so warm, Dazai laughed weakly against your neck as he listened to the heavy beat of your heart. He had no need for you to reciprocate his devotions so long as you stayed alive.

“I adore you, my love. You know that.” Dazai resists the urge to sink his fangs into your exposed neck, pulling himself away to stare at the flush on your cheeks. “I haven't felt such joy in either of my lives- undead or otherwise.” He savored every whine and cry that fell from your colored lips as he slammed his hips in and out of your tight hole. 

His nails bit and tore into your skin, letting droplets of your blood stain the sheets below. You hiccuped and cried every night when he took you to bed, but you no longer fight like you once had. It was a pity, really. Dazai thought you looked especially cute as you kicked and squirmed, trying to fight an inhuman being away. 

You tilt your head to the side, sniffling as Dazai holds you by your hips, forcing you to feel every thick inch as he plunges into you with an obscenely wet noise. Your strangled gasp meshes into a hiss as he punches the air out of your lungs with each thrust.

“Look at me.” Dazai whispers, grabbing your chin and pulling your face towards him. His voice is soft and sweet, a gentle breeze against your lips. But his smile is wide and his grip is bruising. When you fail to raise your eyes, he pulls your hips towards him harshly, forcing you to feel his cock in your stomach. “I will not ask you again.” It’s only when you feel the familiar blade of his dagger pressing against your throat that you dare look at him. 

Crimson light spills into the room like it was a flood. The red moon hung heavy in the sky, consuming and tearing every little star in its light. Your husband was slotted between your legs, one hand keeping you leg on his hip and the other pointing the silver dagger at your esophagus. Like the old renaissance paintings of the devil, Dazai was handsome. In the light, his brown eyes seem to glow mahogany. A horrible, horrible gaze as you don’t dare avert your eyes again.

After a moment, as he studies the look on your face, the resignation, Dazai smiles though he does not lower his blade. “There we go. I missed those pretty eyes, my love. I don’t like when you ignore me.”

As Dazai starts to move his hips once more, he drags his blade down from your throat to in between your breasts and down your sternum.

“You do know why I must keep you here, right?” He begins. “It’s not because I’m cruel and enjoy watching you suffer. There is just so much in the world that could harm you.” Dazai’s pelvis kisses yours each time he pulls out just to stuff you full once again. His thrusts are merciless and rough, one hand planted firmly on your hip, pulling you down on his cock each time he rams it in as the other points his dagger at your heart. “Just as easily as I keep you alive, I could kill you. Isn’t that terrifying?”

His voice is eerily calm and steady, even as wet squelches, gasps, and hisses fill the air. Each thrust muddies your thoughts, filling your mind with nothing but the dopamine of pleasure. It was hard to think, much less hate the man in front of you when he fucked in a way no human could. Then, he sinks the knife into your chest just slightly, enough to split the skin and let small streaks of red make their way down your skin. 

Instinctively, you squirm and whine, desperate to move away as your mind screamed danger but his dagger did not move. It felt like each shuddering inhale and hiccuping exhale would only drive the silver blade further into your chest.

“Calm down.” He mutters, moving the blade from the shallow wound as Dazai leaned down to lie his forehead against yours. He dragged it down your stomach, stopping just above where your womb would rest. “I have no intention to kill you, and you know that. If I had, I would’ve done so long ago. What poor excuse of a husband would ever murder such a darling wife?”

You knew, had learned months ago, what a monster your husband really was. You had made one attempt at escape and you knew to never try such a thing again. Dazai was cruel and vicious with his victims- the poor, innocent people he fed from, but he was so much worse with his love. 

His smile pulled tight as he looked down at you. He had intentions of giving you a second chance only once, if his beloved dared to defy him once more… The night would end with your shared bed soaked in blood as your corpses held one another.

Stakes don’t kill vampires, he had told you that night as he dabbed at the wounds he had inflicted upon you, bloody and weeping. That’s just a silly story that weak humans came up with to make themselves feel stronger. However, silver- something so pure and holy, is just the thing to do the trick. 

“You’re sick.” Your voice wobbles, thick and cracking as your eyes glare up at his. “The only reason you haven’t killed me is because I’m cattle to you.”

“Is that so?” He smiles, stabbing the dagger into the pillow next to your head. Dazai huffs with effort, gritting his teeth, letting his fangs click and clash together as he works open your cunt. “Will you do it, then? Will you try to kill your shepherd? This is the only chance you’ll ever get, darling.”

You spat at him, face flushed red in a way his no longer could, despite the drool wetting your bruised lips. Your rich blood mixed with sweat, streaking down your chest- the mounds bouncing as Dazai grinned.

“Just look at you…” He croons, hand that once held the dagger coming to grip your chin once more. His hand held you with such force, you could see the way his arms flexed. Your once soft skin was marred and littered with blacks, purples, and yellows- with puncture marks from when he had not felt like finding another victim to terrorize. “So precious. I should carve out your womb. No human man would ever want you, then. Even if by some chance of fate, you escape from my clutches, there is not a single person on this earth that will ever consider having you know that you’ve been defiled by me.”

“You’re vile.” You hiss, voice weak and strained. You wanted nothing more than to push your captor away, to reject his advances but such luxuries were fantasy so long as you wanted to live. You clasp your hand over your mouth as Dazai delivers a particularly hard thrust into your cunt, shutting you up. 

Dazai groans, his hand falling away as his desperate thrusts speed up. “I know.” He drawls, “I know. And that’s why I want you. Why I need you.” Dazai pants into your ear, the hot breath contrasting sharply to his cold skin- the chill running down your spine and pushing you closer to him. “Because I’m vile and you’re the best thing to ever happen to me.”

He groans, rolling his hips into yours inch by inch, with the depravity and viciousness of a beast. Desperation ached inside of his bones like a disease, burning and boiling with each thought of you. Dazai loved you so much, he wanted to keep you to himself forever. Wanted to kill you to preserve your memory. Wanted to turn you to make sure he’ll never be alone again. 

As you tilted your head back, walls fluttering around him, he takes his place with his lips on your neck once more. Gently, as he had done a thousand times before, his fangs punctured the delicate flesh. Warm, rich blood pooled into his mouth- only a single drop escaping him. 

Dazai’s thrusts speed up as he gasps, pulling back with bloodied lips. He could barely control himself on the best of days, he’d drain you in but a moment. Each movement made Dazai crave more, the lava pooling in his gut addictive and sweet.

It felt like his cock was molding its shape in your core, truly claiming you as his in the most vile, animalistic way. Everything felt raw, sensitive to the touch. You could barely think, barely breathe with how thoroughly the vampire was drilling your aching cunt. Overwhelmed tears drip off your flushed cheeks as your own incisor threatens to split your lip.

“I need you by my side, my love.” Dazai sighs, kissing down from your temple until he finds the still pulsing wound on your neck. “And so, I must never let you pass on.”

Once more, his fangs find their way into your neck and once more do you feel the gentle cold taking over your body.

➛ wanna join my kinktober taglist?

➛ tags!! @null-zero-0 @ghostedwriting @Sinfulthoughtsposts @oforphicintent @kiironyx @seasonaldeii @rainsoakedsun @sakui1 @meowimacow

[sarawritestories]

Kneel Before Your High Lord

Eris X Fem reader

A dedication to @ninthcircleofprythian for encouraging the feralness.

Summary: A stressful encounter with the High Lord of the Night Court has you coming home to your High Lord, your mate, who is all Too willing to help you unwind for a while

Content Warning: Night Court being shady, dom sub dynamics, male oral receiving implied, fade to black, unedited

Divider made by @tsunami-of-tears

Tears began to well up in my eyes as I left the dark hallowed palace the High Lord of the Night Court called home. My mate entrusted me to go to this meeting on his behalf. To ensure our alliance was secured now that Beron was gone.

I had failed.

His band of miscreants humiliated me, the shadowsinger looking at me as if I were a play thing he could bend to his will. Something in his gaze unnerved me rightfully, so the reputation of the spymaster was as long and as gruesome as his wings.

Being completely disregarded and made to feel like I was not worthy of Rhysand's presence I was dismissed with barely a hand gesture and a smug, "If the High Lord of Autumn wishes for a meeting, tell him he will have to show his face in order to do so."

Embarassing.

Eris had said they were all dreamers, and all had the same goal of maintaining peace, having the freedom to simply exist. The nagging side of my brain couldn't help but wonder if they only showed that side to him. That only to those who deem respectable and powerful were worthy of looking within the mask.

You would think that being the High Lord's mate would have given me that level of respect.

Before a tear could slide down my cheek, I windowed to the one place I felt safe.

Home.

My mind had been reeling deeply that, that I was unaware of Sadie; my hound Eris had gifted me as a mating gift guiding me to his study. It was only when her tongue met the palm of my hand that I was pulled from my stupor petting her soft gray fur I lightly knocked on the door.

"Enter." Eris' voice filled with the command of a high lord caused my toes to curl as I opened the door. His copper eyes met mine and instantly softened, "Home so soon, My Love?" He tilted his head his red curls illuminating against the setting sun. His eyes assessed my face and immediately rose from his chair to approach me. "What happened?" His calloused hands cupped my cheeks, his thumbs stroking idly along my face.

The dam broke, and my body tore out in a string sobs.

Eris tucked my face in his chest as he stroked my back as I told him of my encounter in the Court of Nightmares.

"Eris, please don't make me go back there." Eris ran his fingers through my hair, his soft lips pressing against my temple. His touch was always so soothing for me.

"The next time I go over there, Rhysand will wish he never treated you with such disrespect, Pet." I stiffened slightly at the sound of his name for me. He pushed me away gently, in order to see my face, even through the tears I could make out the cute freckles across his nose that made him look youthful, a youth that was stolen from him.

He gripped my chin with his thumb with just enough force to tell me what wad going on, "Would you like to forget for a little while?" My heart began to flutter as I attempted to nod my head only for him to firmly keep my head in place. "You know better. Use your words."

Heat began to pool between my legs at the commanding tone in his voice, "Please, my Lord. Play with me."

Eris pressed his lips to mine, giving my bottom lip a small bite before releasing me. "Put on your uniform, and return here when you're done." He pulled the pin from my hair, allowing my curls to cascade down falling to my shoulders. "Hair stays down."

"Yes, My Lord."

Eris gave me a mischievous grin, "Good Girl."

I walked back into his study in my silk robe, knowing well that I didn't want the staff to see the Green Corset and matching lace panties that left little to the imagination. "Robe off." His command jolted me as he hadn't even looked up from his paperwork.

I quickly remove the garment to reveal the bodice of the corset with intricate gold lace design that compliments the green lace around my thigh with Eris' name in gold lettering. Eris' eyes finally meet mine, and the russet hues of his iris glow like the fire in his veins. He tucks his bottom lip behind his teeth as though assessing my appearance and his gaze causes my cheeks to warm. "What to do with you, Pet."

I bow, "Use me how you wish, My Lord."

Eris motions his finger, indicating for me to move closer to him. I do as instructed, and when I approach, there is a stagnant pause. He resumes his work, "I expect my pet to kneel before her High Lord."

"Apologies, My Lord." I whisper, my stomach flipping at the command in his tone, my need to serve him and not think for a while. My knees hit the plush carpet, and my head lowered. His fingers is immediately running through my hair.

"My Sweet Girl. My sweet, loving girl. Look at me." I meet his gaze, and there is a warm smile on his face. "You are amazing, I need you to know that. You didn't fail me. You made me proud. Do you hear me?" I nod my head, and his eyes darken, "Words, Love."

"Yes, my Lord." He leans down to kiss me. I go to grip his face when he catches my wrist.

"Good, now be my good girl and make your High Lord feel good while I work. Then, when I'm done, I will worship you like the goddess you are."

I smiled and tucked myself under his desk and showed my high Lord just how much I loved him.

[prodbymaui]

My Kind Of Love — 이민형.

spit in my mouth while you turn me on

PAIRING: mark lee x reader

GENRE: the idol

WORD COUNT: 1.5k words

WARNINGS: ice play, oral sex, spit kink, cum eating, slight voyeurism (ig?)

SYNOPSIS: You had an extra time after your photoshoot. What's a more worth it way of spending it other than visiting your favorite producer, Mark?

A/N: inspired by one of 'the idol' scenes where lily wears a red robe and somewhat seduces abel. enjoy reading!

SONG: One Of The Girls by The Weeknd, Jennie, Lily Rose-Depp

A click, and the pleasantly smooth sensual melody begins to fill the entirety of the recording room. Mark hums, nodding his head in the flow of the beat, elbow resting on the armchair as his forefinger ghosts over his lips. His fingers taps against the table, mind running as he searches for parts to improve.

Not even finished listening to the verse that he just worked on, Mark's hand hovers above the keyboard once again, quickly adjusting and adding what he thought the song lacks.

This needs a few more layers, Mark thinks. So he slides his chair to the other side of the table where the mic settles and closes his eyes, there he harmonizes with his own voice, layering a mellow adlib underneath the sharp yet slow rap. 

Just as Mark opens his eyes, the door opens without much of a knock, and turning around, he meets a vixen clad in red silk robe, a mesh black tights with black suspenders attached to what Mark likes to think is a sinful lace panties in the same color.

There's no way in saying Mark doesn't enjoy the view that he is blessed with. His eyes rakes down your figure, coming back up to meet your lustful gaze. The corner of your lips curves just a little before you take steps towards the man. His legs spread to have you in between as though instinctively, hands itching so much that he couldn't help but to grab your waist, squeezing just enough to feel your body heat seep through the silk fabric.

Water droplets fall onto Mark's skin, it is just then that he notices the glass of whiskey you're holding. ''Drinking alcohol late at night, huh. Tell me, darling,'' Mark leans back. ''What got you prancing around the company with just a thin piece of clothing to cover those nipples?''

You sip once more, holding Mark's stare for a few seconds before licking the liquor that sits on top of your lips' skin. ''Was doing a photoshoot for my new album– decided to pay my favorite producer a visit before changing. I just had a hunch he'd like to see me in this.''

Your words elicit a scoffy chuckle from Mark. He stands up. ''Favorite producer, hmm?'' His palm travels down and stops when it reaches your ass cheek, gripping lightly.

While Mark's other arm circles your waist, he noses your neck, closing his eyes as Mark allows himself to get drunk on your scent, kissing the pathway your throat creates. Pulling you closer, Mark nips your skin occasionally whilst he makes way to your jaw, soon connecting his lips with yours.

Mark swiftly delves his tongue in your mouth, sucking as you offer him your own. If words are to be chosen to describe the kiss, it'll be slow, sensual, and sultry. Just like the song that plays from the speakers surrounding the two of you.

Abruptly yet effortlessly, Mark spins your position and gives you a little push, pinning you down now that you're sitting on the chair. One of his legs separates your thighs apart, welcoming himself between you. Distracted from the way Mark delivers pleasure just from having his mouth on yours alone, you didn't notice how Mark steals the glass out of your hand and places it behind you, out of danger but is enough for him to reach it as well.

Suddenly, a freezing palm comes in contact with the back of your neck. Flinching, you whimper at the cold, tugging Mark's shirt. Instead of taking his hand off, he pulls away from the kiss, not without licking the string of saliva first. In contrast to the icy palm, a warm one rubs your side soothingly, it then nudges your robe away, revealing your nipples.

A sigh leaves your lips, fingers brushing through Mark's locks as you feed him more of your hard buds. Mark growls in satisfaction. Catching it between his teeth, pulling lightly, tweaking it with his fingers and sucking before licking the faint pain away. He does the same to the twin, spitting on it only to lick it away after biting it a few more.

''God, I fucking love your nipples. So fucking sexy. So pretty– always ready for me whenever. If I want to suck on them the whole day, you'll let me, right baby?''

''Yes– Haah– yes, lick them all you want. Ahh..''

Thinking you'll finally get his cock as Mark hums lowly, pecking each of your nipples, you fiddle with his belt. But Mark pins you to the chair again, kissing your forehead as he stretches his arm behind you.

''It's getting hot in here, darling. Would you mind a little raise in the temperature?'' Your eyes fall on the cubes of ice that melts inside the glass, you look up at Mark. One look and you know this is a way to ask consent. To ask you if you're down to try a new thing. Without hesitation, you nod.

Mark tilts his head to the side. ''Words, love. I need your words.''

''Yes, please..''

He brushes strands of hair off your face. 

''Good girl.''

Gulping the last sips of whiskey, Mark gives your lips one last swipe of tongue, letting you taste the alcohol. Pressing the glass on your inner thigh, shivers shoot up your spine. You bite your lower lip to endure the cold, toes curling as Mark spreads the icy droplets along your stomach up to your neck. Your eyes are closed, anticipating Mark's next move when you jerk in your seat, hand enclosing around Mark's wrist as you whimper, opening your eyes to see him tracing the line between your pussy cheeks with a cube.

''Fuck, really..? Not wearing a fucking underwear while a bunch of people watches you pose in front of the camera? What if they saw this, baby? Imagine the fucking headlines,'' Mark chuckles. ''A rising pop idol foregoes wearing panties during a photoshoot because they are desperate for someone to fuck them. How would your fans react to their lovely artist acting like a whore, my love? Would they like it as much as I do?''

Mark nudges your legs open, and as you do, the ice dips and lands exactly where your pulsating clit awaits. ''Fuck..'' You sigh.

''Yeah?'' 

Getting on his knees, Mark situates his face in front of your soaked core. He plays with the cube a little more until it melts completely and eases the cold with the warmth of his mouth. Mark laps and sucks, slurping your juices as he buries himself in your pussy, grunting on how your walls clench around his pink muscle.

Soon, his fingers join his tongue. Curling and prodding at your spot that sends your back arching, hands gripping the armchairs as you let your lewd moans bounce off the walls of the recording room. When Mark deems you're stretched enough, he pulls away and tugs his pants down enough to release his cock, tip in angry red shade.

Resting one leg on the armchair while pulling the other over his shoulder, Mark slides home. Groaning as your hot walls impressively engulfs his girthy cock like no other. Once he's deep and snug, Mark picks up a maddening pace, not giving you time to adjust nor get used to his size.

''A-ah! Ah ah ah! Mark– slow down… You're so big–... s-so big–!'' Your face scrunches up; eyebrows meeting, eyes shut tight, mouth open.

''I am, darling. And you love it.''

Your arms underneath Mark's, landing on his back. As Mark angles his hips and jabs at your spot, your eyes cross and your nails instinctively try to draw red lines along Mark's back but his shirt prevents it from happening. So instead, you opt for grabbing a handful of the fabric, tugging them as your hips unconsciously bucks to meet Mark's thrust.

The chair creates a continuous squeaking sound, continuously thudding as it bumps against the soundboard. Mark reaches to hold the back of the chair, spreading your wider. He renders his thrusts deep and hard, an action that slacks your jaw which allows drools to roll out past your lips and to your chin. Mark leans forward, spitting on your willing mouth before licking the strings of saliva and connecting your lips together. It cannot even be considered as a kiss because it is all panting and moaning against each other's mouth.

''Right there! I-I'm gonna cum.. fuck, Mark, I'm gonna cum! Shit– Mark! Ugh fuuuuck..'' Together with the drawn out curse is your eyes rolling to the back of your eyes, walls clamping down on Mark's cock as a white cream forms a ring around him.

The sight of you coming while moaning his name, Mark pistons his hips violently as he lets lust take over his mind and body. His thrusts becomes erratic and vigorous, and with an encouragement of words from you, Mark fills you up to the brim, his legs embarrasingly shaking as though he was the one who got fucked and not the one who s.

As Mark pulls out, he curses under his breath at the sight of his cum spilling out of your pussy. If that isn't the hottest fucking thing. You know what makes this hottest shit even hotter? Scooping his cum, feeding it to you while he fishes out a yet to melt ice and kisses the shit out of you, sharing the whole serve of the mixture of his cum and yours.

A/N: wrote this in an attempt to get out of slump so I apologize if it's not as good as my other fics. hope you enjoyed, nonetheless! share your thoughts?

[tangerinesgirl]

Pull Some Strings

** SPOILERS FOR ABIGAIL (2024) **

Fem!Reader x Frank/Adam Barrett (Abigail)

Word count: 1.1k

Rating: 18+, explicit

Warnings: smut, denied orgasm, GodComplex!Frank, JOI, degradion, Frank swearing a lot (as usual), pet names, vaguely non con if you squint bc mind control

Summary: You've been flirting with Frank the entire evening. He tests his new vampire powers and turns you into his puppet. Things get freaky.

Notes: this seems too good to not have been done before, I did have a search beforehand so I'm sorry if it does exist! We need more Frank smut ASAP! Also, reader has nipple piercings in this and there's use of Y/N.

You jump awake with a burning hot pain in your neck. You reach to touch the wound but you find nothing there. Memories start to play in your mind, how Frank willingly accepted the offer to be turned into a monster, while you sat on the floor helpless. You were heartbroken that he could turn into a traitor like that, after the two of you fighting so hard together, but the other part of you couldn't keep your eyes off him, seeing him covered in blood, moaning as Lambert gave him his new life. You watch in horror as he stakes Lambert through the heart, you try to grab the shelf behind you to get up, but Frank stamps on your arm, breaking it instantly. You scream as he pulls your hair, exposing your neck to him.

Frank whispers in your ear, "I'm going to make you my puppet, and we're going to have a little fun". You whimper as he pecks a little kiss on the side of your mouth, and dives his teeth into your neck. You can feel yourself getting colder, your body twitching as you loose consciousness.

*

"Y/N....you are mine"

The sound of Frank's voice lures you back awake. You're in a bedroom somewhere, but you can tell you're still in this god forsaken house. "Oh good you're awake". You look around the room instinctively trying to find the source of the voice.

"What's going on?"

"Keep up sweetheart, did you not pay attention to what happened to Sammy? Or were you too busy trying to get me to fuck your brains out?"

Your mind jumps back to how you flirted playfully with Frank the whole evening. The car ride where you were zipping your hoodie down to make your breasts pop out. When you brushed past him to open the door. The way you would look at his lips, and chew the bottom of yours every time he gave the crew orders. You found him very attractive, and the dominance was a huge turn on for you.

You sit next to him at the bar in the house, "You know, I'm very much into the hot boss scenario". Your hand brushes against his as you reach for your drink. In a split second, Frank pins your hand to the counter and grabs your neck with the other one, "You're really going to flirt with me when we have bigger fucking problems right now?"

Everyone in the group stares at you as you go bright red from embarrassment. You decide to roll with it, liking how agitated Frank is getting at your advances. Afterall you've nothing to loose, no one will know your true name after this. You moan loudly with a "oh yes, harder daddy". Frank lets you go in disgust. He spits out a "fucking whore" under his breath. You hear him and giggle, "only for you" and blow him a kiss as he walks away.

*

Your mind snaps back to reality. "I know how you like being told what to do, and I'm curious to see if this actually fucking worked first time... So...Frank says, take off your hoodie". You immediately unzip your hoodie without a moment's thought, "What the fuck?"

"Frank says undo your bra". You do as he says, part of you is very much into him finally reciprocating what you've been putting down the whole evening, even in these circumstances.

"Frank says play with your nipples". You moan as you grab your breasts and tug gently on your nipples.

"Wait I can feel something cold...do you have piercings? That's fucking hot... Frank says undo your belt". The belt clinks to the floor, you can somehow tell that Frank is doing the same, wherever he is.

"Frank says undo your buttons". You unzip your jeans, and dip your hand in further, you can feel the wetness growing in your underwear as you try and find some kind of friction.

"Frank says stop. Frank didn't say to do that now, did he?"

You shake your head.

"Use your words"

"No"

"No what?"

"No sir"

"Good girl. Now. Frank says to circle your fucking clit. Slowly"

You moan softly, it's painful for you not to do anything else right now.

"Frank says stop"

The slow orders are making you impatient, you need more of a release, "please".

"Please what?"

"I need more"

"Then you fucking wait"

You can feel Frank playing with his cock, it pains you that you can't see, but you can feel him growing hard, the pre cum on his hands. You can even hear his subtle moans as he palms himself.

"Frank says dip your index finger into your pussy".

You sigh in relief as your hand finally enters you.

"Frank says insert another finger"

You fuck yourself open, Frank can hear the sound of your wetness and swears under his breath.

"You sound fucking soaked, the sound of my voice gets you this wet huh? Now...play with your clit".

You start to do so and Frank laughs, "Frank didn't say "Frank says" now did he?"

You cry out in agitation, "Frank please".

"Nah ah, what do you call me?"

"Sorry, sir"

"That's better baby. Frank says touch your clit"

You can feel yourself getting closer, Frank can too. "I'm going to cum Fr-sir, please can I cum?".

"Frank says stop"

"No!" You whimper as you pull your hands out of you. Denying you of your orgasm makes Frank's come quicker, the power over you as well as being a newly turned vampire makes him feel like a God. He takes off his shirt as he starts to cum on his chest. You can feel the hot liquid on your chest too. Your hands feel around but there's nothing there. You're really pissed off, but still very much aroused. Frank moans as he continues to empty himself on his chest, it seems to last forever. As he finally comes to a stop, he lets out one last big moan. "Do you want to taste?"

Part of you wants to give him the silent treatment for the way he just used you, but you say "yes sir" like the good puppet you are.

Frank takes a finger of his cum off his chest and wipes it on his lips. He licks it up with his tongue. You can feel the taste slowly seeping into your mouth, you bite your lip and swirl your tongue around, lapping up every invisible drop. It's salty, with a hint of iron, but oddly creamy at the same time.

"I think that was a pretty successful test, wouldn't you say, Y/N?"

You finally find your backbone after Frank and his stupid voice turned it into mush, "Fuck you".

"Oh I will, right after I kill me a vampire"

[jenosbigtoe]

Requesting a haechan shot where he loves to tease and edge until ur like. AT THE BRIMM. He's cheeky everywhere he goes !!

mdni. nsfw 18+

pairing: lee haechan x reader

warnings: meanie hyuck, jealousy, degradation, fingering, cunnilingus, spanking

you were basically asking for it.

prancing around in front of his horny ass friends wearing nothing but a string bikini top and thong. tits bouncing around and bare ass out on display for everyone to see barely covered by the pathetic excuse of a “swimsuit” you were wearing. it was supposed to be a beach day, not a slut-yourself-out-in-front-of-your-boyfriend’s-friends-to-rile-him-up day.

“baby, you know you piss me off when you do these kinds of things around other people,” he spoke lowly through gritted teeth into your ear. he gave your bare ass a hard pinch for emphasis.

you smacked his hand away. “ugh, you’re too possessive, hyuck. relax.”

“you’re literally bare ass naked in front of my friends, how could i not be pissed off?”

he was so sulky for the rest of the day. sitting under the beach umbrella instead of hanging out and glaring at you menacingly with everyone else. you could visibly see the fire in his eyes and the red hot anger radiating off his body. but who cares? today was supposed to be a fun day at the beach!

until you were back in the hotel room, tears rolling down your face as he had you bent over his lap.

he gave your tingling ass cheek another hard slap. “so you wanted to be a fucking slut?”

you were a babbling mess, sniffling and sobbing and wriggling around. “n-no!! i wasn’t.”

he gave you another smack. “pissing me off all goddamn day. acting like a cheap whore.”

he started to pull on your bikini thong, giving you a tight wedgie that rubbed up into your leaking pussy. you cried out at the feeling, cunt spasming and clenching around nothing.

“you fucking like this huh. you like being punished, spanked, called a slut,” his voice was low and dangerous as he wiggled your thong up your cunt, fabric rubbing up on your clit and sending waves of pleasure up your spine.

fat tears rolled down your face and dripped down to ground. you attempted to squirm around and away from his relentless punishment but he suddenly threw you on your back and pinned you beneath his heavy body.

“not so fucking fast slut. i’m far from done with you,” he breathed out before crawling down to face your achy cunt.

“ah, so my slut is turned on by this,” he smirked and stared hungrily at your dripping pussy barely concealed by the piece of string you called a bikini.

you whined and kicked your legs around before he grabbed your thighs and held you down. he dove straight into your drooling pussy, flattening his tongue against your core and sucking at your clit. he moaned at the taste of your sweet cunt on his tongue, sending vibrations through your core. he licked a long stripe up your cunt, gathering up your dripping juices onto his tongue, before shoving his tongue as far into your hole as possible.

you bucked your hips wildly into his face, screaming and sobbing from the feeling. you grabbed at his hair and pulled, causing him to go even harder on you.

“o-oh my, f-fuck!!” you cried. “hyuck, oh my god oh my god!”

he stopped and looked up into your fucked out face. “aw, little slut likes getting her pussy ate huh? such a fucking whore.” your juices and his spit were glistening off his chin. hair wild, pupils blown, he looked like sin.

he shoved his fingers into your dripping cunt, easily sliding in from the way you were drooling and creaming. he started to pump his fingers up into your sweet spot, pounding his fingers knuckles deep into your creamy cunt as he licked and sucked on your clit hard.

you were losing your mind, feeling your pussy clench and spasm around his fingers as you bucked your hips to meet his face. you were a babbling, sobbing, screaming mess, saying incoherent sentences as hyuck ate your pussy like a starved man. “so good oh my god f-fuck so good hyuckk!! more please more more!!”

you were so so close to release, feeling your climax build right before the toppling over the edge. when all of a sudden he ripped his fingers out of your hole and removed his face from your spasming cunt. you whined at the loss of contact, why?

and then he got up from on top of you and walked away, leaving your fucked out, shaking form right where he left you.

“dirty sluts like you don’t get to cum. maybe this will teach you a lesson.”

a/n: i got super carried away and then realized this kinda wasn’t what you asked for… i hope you like it anyways el oh el

[heavenlyraindrops]

♱ Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned) ~Chapter Six ♱

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Chapter Six Warnings: profanity, making out, biting How to find the other chapters in my pinned post.

♱Where the purest soul in Heaven falls for the Devil♱

A/N: y’all are gonna love this one

[Chapter Six]

“So then I said no, again,” you said, finishing your story on how Adam had proposed to you for the fifth year in a row. Lucifer turned his head to look at you, golden strands falling in front of his eyes. 

You were both lying on the floor- the rug, to be exact, of one of the many rooms Lucifer had. You’d dragged him down there with you. He couldn’t say no. The window casted a large square of red light into the room, precisely where you two lay.

It had been five years since you first met.

Five years of sneaking away from the exorcists. Five years of crawling in through conveniently left open windows. Five years of evading the Seraphim and Lute’s questions and five years spent communicating in Morse code through your bracelets, late into the night. 

“Is it just me, or is he getting more creative? As far as an idiot like him can get, anyways.” Lucifer murmured. You raised a hand to shield your eyes from the light so you could see him properly. 

“As far as an idiot like him can get? I don’t know about you, but he really exceeded my expectations.” Lucifer laughed at that. The sound was beautiful, the most beautiful thing you had ever heard. 

“Really. He scared me when he popped out of my ficus plant. Actually, I’m quite sad about that ficus.” 

“I’ll find a way to get you a new ficus,” Lucifer sighed, turning back over. You smacked his shoulder playfully. 

“You can’t get me a new ficus, Your Majesty.”

“I’m the King of Hell. I’ll get you anything you want. No matter what.”

The words made you blush, as you flicked your eyes back to the ceiling. 

“And just call me by my name. Why do you even use ‘Your Majesty?’”

You let out an incoherent string of half-hearted grumbles in response, which made him chuckle. Somehow his hand had found yours, fingers intertwining like they were magnetically attracted to each other. 

“How much time until the Pentagram closes?”

“Enough, but not long.”

“Wish I didn’t have to go.”

Lucifer sat up, a lock of hair tumbling down over his pale forehead as he grinned at you. Devilishly handsome. “Do you prefer to spend time with me than all your friends in Heaven?” 

Your heart thumped against your ribcage. You were worried he could hear it as you gulped. “Maybe.”

Your hands were still connected. 

You sat up too. He stared into your eyes, then flicked his gaze to your lips, then back up. Then his face split into another smirk. “Well, thanks for taking the risk for me.”

You hadn’t realized that you’d both been drawn closer. You could feel his breath on your lips.

A sudden urge to just lean in washed over you. You searched his face desperately, looking for a single sign that he wanted it too. Even the smallest look. He tilted his head, glancing down at your lips again, closer.

You grabbed his collar, pulling him in. “It’s worth it,” you breathed. 

His lips felt soft- so so soft, you could have stayed like that forever. You could feel his hand on the back of your neck, pulling you in closer, closer. You shuddered, digging your nails into his shoulders, easing a small moan out of him. 

“Angel,” he whispered, and the nickname burned hot against your lips as you tangled your fingers through his golden locks, just to pull him in again, as close as you could get.

“Lucifer,” you gasped in response, and felt him shiver under your fingertips. 

You both pulled away, breathing heavily. He glanced at you from half-lidded eyes. “Say it again,” he murmured shakily. 

“Say what?”

“My name.” He yanked on your hand and you toppled over, into his chest, palms braced on the floor behind him. “Say it again.”

Your mind whirled. “Lucifer-“

He grabbed your face, pulling you in again, kissing you with more ferocity this time. You felt his sharp teeth graze against your bottom lip tantalizingly, and it took everything for you to not bite back. Fingers dug into your waist, balancing you on his thigh. 

You let off a small, sharp breath of annoyance as he pulled away, only for him to trail his lips down your jaw, leaving a trail of kisses and bruises, ending at your collarbone. He leaned back up to kiss your lips again. You pushed him away gently. 

“Lucifer, we can’t do this,” your voice trembled. His expression dropped and it almost shattered your heart in pieces. “It’s too risky.”

“Angel-“

“No,” you said desperately. “It isn’t supposed to happen. It’s gone too far.” His lips clamped shut. Your eyes flicked up and down his figure, the rumpled clothes, the messed up hair. His face flushed, lips swollen. 

“Why?” He murmured, voice dangerously low. You almost gave in again. “I’ll finish what I started. Won’t you? Don’t you want this?”

“I do. I want it so bad. But if they find out- the trouble we’ll get in- they might even come for you-“

“Let them,” he growled, voice riddled with frustration. You stared at him for a split moment, your own breathing the only thing you could hear, and then your lips crashed into his again, with more fervour and desperation than ever before as you clawed at his shirt. He whimpered, the noise making you throb.

“Fuckkk,” you hissed, the word unfamiliar on your tongue, as he kissed his way down your jaw again, then yelped as he nipped at the soft skin. You pulled away. He grinned at a spot on your neck that throbbed, fingers tracing the sensitive flesh. You could feel the bite mark forming. 

“Something to remember me by,” he muttered against your neck.

You blushed. 

♱♱♱

You pulled your collar up for the fifth time that evening, surrounded by exorcists in the hot, busy bar you were in. The fabric brushed against the bite, making you flinch.

They had wanted to celebrate a recent newly appointed exorcist's first extermination, and it just so happened that you were acquainted with the girl. And also the fact that Adam had begged you to go in his place.

Lute was downing another drink next to you. You’d lost count of how many she’d had, watching in concern as she punched the air, eyes drooping with intoxication. “Carpe noctem, bitches!” 

“Right,” you muttered, checking your watch. It was late. Really late. “Lute, are you sure you should have another drink?”

Lute waved over the bartender. “Fuckin’ hell yeah,” she snapped, head flopping in all sorts of directions as she babbled her order in an incoherent mess of words. You smiled at the bartender apologetically and shook your head. They got the hint and left. Lute didn’t even notice. 

The two other exorcists with you giggled. One of them leaned on the bar. “Let her have another, [name].” She ruffled the hair of the girl next to her. “In cheers to pipsqueak’s coming of age, right?”

You stared at them, then turned back to Lute, who was in hysterics next to you. “One more, and then we’re going home.”

“Booooringgg,” the exorcist groaned, then opened their eyes wide. “But if you say so, [name].” She nudged her shy friend. “Who are we to disagree with the great [name] herself?”

You coughed uncomfortably. “I… uh, well-“

“Sorry,” the ‘pipsqueak’ mumbled to you. You smiled at her gently.

For the next few minutes you watched over Lute, until you had to rush her to the bathroom to throw up. You had pulled back her short cut hair as she hacked into the toilet bowl, until she drunkenly pushed you away. 

“Go away. Leave me the fuck alone- I don’t need you.”

She still leaned on you on the way back to your seats. 

As you both approached, you heard the exorcist’s conversation: 

“Yeah, so she cut that bitches eye out, just like that. That’s Lute for ya. I’ll tell you a thing, pipsqueak- you see a traitor, you show them no mercy. That bitch Vag-“

“Hey, girls,” you said. They both turned to look at you, and a groaning Lute. “I’m gonna take Lute home now. She’s… well…” you jerked your head at her and they nodded sympathetically. 

You gathered yours and Lute’s things before tugging on her arm.

“Come on. Let’s go,” you murmured, fussing with Lute’s hair. Lute groaned dramatically, leaning away from your touch as if she was repelled by it.

“Fine, bitch,” she hissed.

♱♱♱

A/N: what’s gonna happen with Lute? 😨😨😨 stay tuned to find out besties

Taglist: @boredlime, @ica1, @tremendoushearttaco, @sweetadonisbutbetter, @lucky-flowey,@kitty-kei, @thornwolfy235, @w31rd3rg1rl, @marxo5, @lvstyangel, @brainz00, @lukerycyja-reblogs, @dickmastersworld,@everlastprime259-blog, @rain-doll401-blog, @bakugounuggets, @ren-ren23, @mjhehe09,@angelicwillows, @rayyrayysanchez, @luleck, @dellugh-shposts

[skipper19]

Imagine this...

It all led to this moment. You gave him your everything, and it still wasn't enough. He lied to you for months and kept his intentions from you for so long. You were never to trust him or anyone, again. First, it was your father. He sold you to the heroes for their horrid experiments. You were sure the people behind it were called the "hero committee," but that was an estimated guess, of course. When you were in the program, you were kept in the dark. You were isolated from the others, you had no one, and you were a nobody. Your number had been 62. You only received a sort of name when you were taken into the Liberation front. Or the LoV, as they used to be called.

That's where you met him: Hawks. There was something about him you felt drawn towards. Perhaps it was his golden eyes or his ruby red wings. Maybe it was his personality. He had a way of pinning you to your seat with a look, yet lulling you into a sense of comfort with his smile. You could tell there was more to him than what he was leading on. It didn't take long for you both to talk. Talking turned into something deeper. You didn't know what to call it. You spent so long under the thumb of the heroes that until you were able to escape, your skills in basic interactions were slim to none. Hawks taught you things. He didn't call you a number. He gave you pretty nicknames that made your stomach flip. His soft touches were so different from what you had been conditioned to.

Everyone could see it. The way you both were attached at the hip. Every mission was spent by one anothers side. You trusted him with your life. You had started to.. love him.

But then it all began to crumble and fall. You had been taught to watch behaviors and assess people like they were your prey. It was instilled into you, drilled almost as deep as the robotic body parts the heroes had forced on you. You watched people. Perhaps that's why you got along so great with Hawks; or Keigo, as he revealed during one of your more quiet cuddle sessions. That was the night he made love to you. He taught you what touch could feel like beyond hugs and kisses. He made you feel things that reminded you that you are human. The constant voice in the back of your head telling you, reminding you that you're not a monster. At least, not by choice.

It had been 4 months before you realized his behavior was..off. Maybe it was before that, and you just wanted to ignore it. You didn't want to believe something could be wrong. His behavior, his mood, and the twitch in his eyebrow when he saw other villains hurt heroes. You could see it. Clear as day. Clear as it can be for someone so close to him, like you. At least, you thought you were close. He had been inside of you and explored your emotions and desires. He reached into your soul and pulled on strings you didn't know were there. He helped you find yourself. And you figured out who he truly was a little too late.

The wind had always been your friend. It gave you fresh air and made you shiver. There was always something so heartwarming about the shiver that made you feel like a kid again. Movie scenes flashed in your head, movies Keigo had introduced to you. And pictures of autumn leaves and Thanksgiving pop into the images. Keigo mentioned he wanted to take you somewhere for the holiday. Somewhere private and peacful. Maybe travel to a place with beautiful waters and calm forests. He promised to take you. Though now, as you stood on this roof overlooking the city, images of such a blissful dream faded from your mind. The wind had always been your friend. That is what matters right now.

"Please don't do this. I swear to God I was going to tell you. " He didn't matter. His words were a lie. They had to be. There was no way he cared about you, claimed that he loved you, and lied to you for months.

"I was stupid to believe you. I should have listened to the voices in my head. They protected me before you came along.." The words were so soft, you almost didn't want to say them. A part of you wanted to forgive him. Forget the lies and the betrayal and run into his arms. You wanted to comfort him. The scars on his face were so fresh. His wings were still so torn and burnt. But the hurt you felt deep inside blinded you. You couldn't let this go. Not now. You couldn't let another man hurt you and get away with it.

His footsteps were hesitant and desperate. He looked at you with such guilt and regret. It was eating him inside. He could lose his wings. They used to make him who he was. But when he met you, it all changed. You were his everything. You were the reason he kept fighting against the villains. But he was the reason he kept being a spy hidden from you. If you knew he was still on the heroes side, you would have never trusted him in the first place. He didn't know much anymore. Who was right or wrong. But he knew he loved you.

"Baby, I swear to God I was going to tell you. I just didn't want the heroes to find out about us, and I couldn't risk my secret being told to the villains. I love you -" He whispered, his voice cut off as tears formed in his eyes. "I love you so damn much. You made me feel human again! I felt like I could be myself around you. That's something I've never felt before. With no one else." He begged. His voice was desperate and hoarse. And you wanted nothing more than to run into his arms. You wanted to believe him, but you were so hurt. If he loved you, why didn't he trust you with his secret?

"I've been lied to before. I know how this works. And now the Liberation front doesn't want me anymore. They think I was helping you. I've lost everything because of you." You said harshly, tears falling down your face. Keigo shook his head, swallowing his sobs. "No! No, I'm right here. I do love you, dove. Please, believe me. Step away from the edge and come with me. We can leave. We can just go. We'll be together, off in the cabin that you said you wanted. We can finish teaching you how to write cursive a-and I'll help you build that garden you wanted. We can grow as many tomatoes as you want! If you just..step down. I'm begging you." You couldn't stop the tears from falling from your cheeks. Tears scattered the city below, mixing with the light rain of the afternoon skies. You wondered if this is how it was supposed to be.

"I wanted that with you before you broke me. Before you lied and took advantage of my lack of emotions -" You said bitterly. "No! I never once took advantage of you. I am not your father, remember? You told me he abandoned you with the hero committee. I would never do that to you. I would never leave you like that, dove. You're my everything." He said sternly, stepping forward in determination. You could almost hear the truth in his voice. But the wind was so much louder tonight.

You turned to face him, your heel resting on nothing as you stood on deaths door. You could see past the wind. The truth is so evident in Keigos eyes as he pleaded with you. But if he lied to you once, couldn't he just do it again? "How can I believe you? After months of lying to me. To my face. How do I know I can trust you not to lie to me again?" Your voice was so soft, Keigo almost couldn't hear you. Almost. He just shook his head. "I.. I don't know. But I do know I would do it again if I had to. If it meant keeping you safe, I would lie again and again. Because I can not lose you. Not after I've found you." He was telling the truth. You could see it on his scarred face. The same cheek you loved to caress. Now marred in scars because of Dabi.

"Please just come to me. Let me take you away from all this." You wanted to step away from the edge. You wanted to accept his words and rush into his arms. But the wind has always been your friend. And it was a jealous thing, it was. It pulled and pulled until you were falling into its arms again. It was so loud, your eyes were tearing up. Keigos' face was the last you would ever see, but the wind would stay until the very end.

[kuni-is-daddy]

I'm going to ignore all of my shame and ask for a yandere Scaramouche with a female darling

Where he uses a vibrator on her and orgasm denies her

Yandere scaramouche x female reader

Lord Sixth.

Tw: Scara is manipulative, Threats etc.

Ft:// 0rgsm denial,toyplay, Degrading, M8ing press, Scara scummy a bit

Word count: 1.5k. ScaraMasterlist

CW: Minors do not interact past the cut! This is a nsfw post!

When you first met and truly fell in love he was able to read you like a book. Knowing everything about you and even putting a ring on your finger. It was unnecessary to him though, Something redundant as marriage never mattered. Once he set his eyes on you..Once you embraced him, He already claimed you as his own. But archons- Hearing lord 11th and her majesty pestering him over it was irritating. So, he brought it up to you, his once naive and beautiful s/o. A direct confession you gladly said yes to. Even tucking away his hat to give him a kiss on his toxic lips.

He pushed you against the wall, squeezing your throat as you irked out through your pained neck. The puppet looked down towards the ground after hearing a clink. His smirk instantly turned into a bored expression as his eyebrows relaxed. He expected you to bring it, A small knife that was stolen from the kitchen. After all..The walls do have ears. Anything you've ever done suspicious would send the maids and fatui flocking to him like sheep reporting on your every move. So when you entered his room, unknowingly greeted by his half-dressed form; You froze up at the sight of his scars and markings. With you pinned, he looked down on you. E/c eyes we're filled with tears and mouth gasping for air. He didnt know whether it was from fear or out of hatred yet didnt care. He knew they'd always and only be for him. Validating him and his delirious actions. At the thought of it, He let go of your throat while you fell to your knees. Then laughed at a joke only he could understand.

If you weren't sure he lost all the trust he's given you, you definitely were now. "If your going to kill me, just make it fast...Please." you mumbled. The puppet stopped laughing after your words, raising an eyebrow. "Kill you? Why would i?" He kneeled down, an action he only gave you privilege to see. His eyes we're pure indigo yet still glowing purple through his pupils and red eyeliner, While the strings on his shorts we're barely tightened. "Is that what you truly want darling?" He picked up the small knife, Twirling the handle through his fingers. Your 'husband', Lord sixth. Never made empty promises...or threats. Intrusive thoughts began poking around in your mind; Would he really do it? Would he finally let me go? but you shook your head, choosing your words wisely. "No...It isn-" "Properly." "N-no..Kunikuzushi." He thinly smiled at your answer then tilted his head closer, Your lips almost touched But to your surprise he pulled away and instead held your chin up. "If I wasn't so in lov- interested in you, I would've inflamed you beside your village. Consider yourself lucky y/n. You have a vow..no..many to uphold to me."

He stopped kneeling; turning his back towards you and walked to the bedside counter. With his attention away from you, you stumbled up and walked towards the door thinking he let you go. "But dont think I'll let you off so easily this time." Scara's voice echo'd throughout the silence "but i-" "You heard what i said, now come here. I shouldn't have to explain myself to you further." His hand smacked on the counter, the ring on his finger made a soft clinking noise along the wood. You looked away from the door and walked towards him, It wasnt locked. Instead, It creeped open a bit as the cool palace breeze entered. You could just try run...Again, But that would just have you back at square one. Tied within his strings as if you were the puppet.

--

You laid on your back on the bed while his frame towered over his. The small ray of moonlight flashing through the window made the puppet ironically look like an angel. Scara's bored expression shifted a bit at your obedience, he loosened the knot in his shorts slightly. As if it was instincts, you then propped your legs up, pulling your skirt up slightly and he immediately brushed his fingertip along your thigh. A spark of electro emitted and you bit back a moan. "You really are getting out of your league, aren't you?" he sighed. "You dont deserve to be fucked yet. Not after that pathetic trick of yours..." "B-but scara you-" He ignored your plead and parted your thighs. You moaned silently as his pale fingers itched over the smooth cotton liner hiding your slit, "huh..look how wet you are, and I've barely touched you...to think Mear minutes ago you wanted me dead."

He bit his bottom lip, restraining himself from pouncing on your 'pathetic state' while your hips began bucking at his touch already. You couldn't stand it, not anymore. As many times as you've touched yourself only he was able to make you feel good, only he was able to make you reach your limit. And archons did he take advantage that. "Hah. What a joke." Scara slid his hands under the sowing and roughly pulled your lingerie off. He Tossed them onto the floor then pulled away to retrieve something out his pants pocket. "S-Scara~ what are you-" suddenly he straddled you by your hips, pulling you closer towards the edge of the bed then leaned down until he was face to face with your glistening slit. Click click "To think my wife could be so pathetic..like a filthy dog in heat." "S-scara! im not Mmn!~" He quickly put the toy inside, watching as your walls clenched around it. "Hm? Your not what?" He reached into his pocket for the remote, waiting for you to part your lips. "Im not flith- AH!" you quickly covered your mouth while your thighs twitched from the toy. "Oh really darling~? Huh...but down here says otherwise, doesn't it?" Scara moved his bangs a bit out his hair and licked along your clit "Mnh~ Scara~!" you bit into your skin, biting back moans hard enough you swore they drew blood. "So why don't you..mm~ be a good girl for me and beg?" You nodded your head, letting go of the little bit of dignity you had, in return scara merely smirked. "If only you were always this obedient, it would've saved you Alot of heartbreaks darling." Scara's tongue swirled along your bud while his other hand pressed tightly onto the remote, Making sure the buzzing sensation inside you never stopped.

Your voice began pitching higher and higher. You we're close. "S-scara! Please~! Let me cum! I-ah i cant~!" A satisfied groan left his lips while you begged. As much as he was enjoying himself, You still had a punishment afterall. Scara pulled away, Licking up Your pre juices while you whined at the Sudden slow buzzing of the toy inside of you. He was growing impatient, He needed more, He needed to hear you- "Kuni!~ no~! wait~! please~" 'kuni' At the use of his 'favorite' nickname he practically snapped, tilting his head to remember the word you said. "Again." You blinked out of your gaze. "Wha-" "Say it, Darling." He slapped your thigh and you shuddered in pleasure. "Ah! K-kuni...? Please fuc~" He moved his hands to your pussy again, slowly scissoring your insides while pulling the vibrator out. "hnh...Please fuck me kuni~i'll be a good girl~ just for you~ I promise!" 'Liar' He thought, But god was he enjoying this. Your hips jerked back along his fingers. The remote and toy we're now hanging on the side of the bed, while he freed his aching length with his other hand. He began fisting himself roughly, letting out panting breathes you haven't heard in a long time. When he wasnt going through his usual irritated 'mood swings' his soul purpose was to dominate you with his sadism.

"Move." He said sternly and you did as if it was instincts again. You moved back into the center of the bed, Head rested on a pillow while you heard the string pull on his garments. "Hmn..Dont you dare get quiet. Do you understand?" You shivered at his words and nodded. His tip pressed softly against your enterance, The puppet was already twitching from the contant. "Wrap your legs around me." You complied. and he immediately plunged himself inside you, You moaned loudly while scara hissed at your warmth. "Ah~ Ugh.~ thats it. Just like that.." He bucked his hips up and down, with every thrust his body smashed against yours. "Y-you ah~ You belong to me darling~ G-god your so tight." You gripped tight onto his back, digging your nails into his skin. "I-ah~ Kuni~!" Your tight walls began squeezing against his length, With a couple more thrusts you began shuddering for your already built up orgasm. "Hah~ You wanted this so bad didnt you? Bet you we're Mnh~ Planning for this a while weren't you?"

"So- take it y/n. Hn- Take my seed as your reward like a good girl~!" Kuni bucked his hips hard with final thrust, Coming undone inside and filling you up deeply while soon after your own fluids gushed on his lower body.

Scara sat with you inside him for a matter of minutes, Making sure he painted your walls. He kissed your cheek softy. "Tell me." You calmed down from your high, eyes still a little droopy. "Tell me you love me." He held your hand, Palming your ring finger. Your heart swelled a bit. Did you love him? If you didnt, You would've took action as you planned earlier. Yet you didnt.

"I..I do love you." Unlike your usual silence, It didnt speak for you this time. A part of you still loved him.

a/n- I felt a bit unsatisfied with my past yan scara fics, I know yall enjoyed them, Especially the Jirai kai/kei series but I wanted to try my hand at yan scara again! Regardless thank you for reading and good luck on your future pulls! Furina HERE I COME

[longhardtransitionreturns]

Twilight Sleep

Colonel Hutcherson's blonde bombshell wife has been making waves in our small town since the moment she got off the train in a bright red pin up dress with more creamy cleavage on display than our poor farm boys had ever seen. Her sea green eyes, red lips, and shapely hips on top of the longest set of gams in stilettos to ever set foot here immediately made her gossip fodder for the bar flies and the busy bodies.

They said she couldn't buy bras off the rack because her breasts were so big. That she sent all the way to New York for her stockings. That her hair was falling out because of all the peroxide she bought to keep her hair a brilliant platinum white.

Either she already had a baby growing in that flat belly of hers when she came to town or Colonel Hutcherson put one in her right quick because it wasn't long before Ashley Hutcherson’s already obscene titties were spilling out of her tops and her belly was growing straight out like a bullet. She wore her dresses so tight the whole town knew the very day her belly button popped from an innie to an outie.

I knew Ashley, of course, because I was her OBGYN. One thing I figured out quickly is there were no thoughts behind those pretty eyes. Ashley was so dumb she could barely string a sentence together and I had to explain to her how her baby was going to come out of her tiny little fuck hole. The look of horror on her face when she realized she was going to have to push a watermelon out from between her legs was priceless.

And that was without me telling her that she had an extremely narrow pelvis and Colonel Hutcherson made such large babies his last wife had labored for 3 days to squeeze a 14 pounder out. She could barely walk for weeks and she was a regular size farm girl.

Ashley was so relieved when I told her about the miracles of twilight sleep I almost popped in my pants right there. She was delighted she’d just go to sleep and wake up with a baby, none of the mess of having to push it out. 

When the time came, Colonel Hutcherson delivered her to my home surgery when her pains were regularly five minutes apart. She was so swollen by that point she was wearing nothing but a white silk robe trimmed with lace over her shoulders. Her pretty face was screwed up in discomfort when I opened the car door to help her out.

Her eyes lit up with relief when she saw me. 

“Oh, doctor, I’m so glad to see you. I’m ready to go to sleep now. I don't like how my tummy feels. It hurts!”

She clutched my arm with one hand and her massive, straining belly with the other as we walked inside. We bid goodbye to her husband at the door and I promised to call him. Her kissed her on the cheek and told her to mind the doctor. 

She shivered when I led her into the delivery room and she spotted the steel table in the middle of the room. Her eyes went immediately to the stirrups.

“We’ll put your legs up there to help the baby come, honey, but first we have to get you ready to go to sleep.”

I coaxed her out of her robe, taking a moment to admire her dark, swollen areolas and how the baby had settled low in her elongated belly. She was so big I had to help her up on to the table. She let out a grunt of discomfort as she lay back and the full weight of her overloaded womb and her massive milk laden tits settled on her small frame.

She was pliant as I strapped her legs into the stirrups but she gasped sharply when I ran my finger through her folds. 

“Let's get you ready, Ashley.”

I didn't bother to explain what I was doing or apologize for the cold temperature of the shaving cream as I spread it over her vulva. She had just a smattering of blonde curls but I ran my razor over them anyway just to have a clean work surface.

“That's a good girl,” I reassured as Ashely moaned through a contraction while I wiped the cream and hair away. She was a groaner but she was clearly trying not to writhe too much in the stirrups.

I let her recover from the contraction while I prepared the enema supplies. When I approached her with the tip of the tube and a bit of lube, I saw fear flash across her face for the first time.

“Where's that gonna go?”

I smiled reassuringly. “We need to clean out your insides to make room for the baby.”

I slipped it in quick, shushing Ashley's yelp of protest, and allowed the warm water to start flowing. She was dumb but quickly figured out what was happening when an urgent pressure started to build in her bowels.

“Ow, ow, my belly, it's too full already! It hurts!” She rubbed the underside of her aching orb, trying to twist to the side to alleviate the pain in her gurgling gut but stopped by the straps on her ankles in the stirrups. “I feel like I need to poop, why are you doing this? Ow!”

I pressed my palm against her pelvis, rubbing firmly. She cried out in protest.

“We wouldn't want you to poop on me or your baby's head, no would we, Ashley? I can't believe you're being such a bad girl. I'm sure the Colonel told you to do as the doctor says.”

Ashley looked betrayed now, scared, in indescribable pain, exposed on a table with no way to know what was coming next or to do anything to stop it.

As if to illustrate the point a contraction gripped Ashely's roiling abdomen and she screamed, full throated, as tears streamed down her face. The agony of contracting with a full bag of warm, salty water in her ass broke any last semblance of composure and Ashley started begging me to make the pain stop.

I secured the catch bag underneath her and prepared the drugs I would need to administer twilight sleep while Ashley screamed and pleaded her way through three more contractions. I realized quickly she would need extra restraints while under because she was tossing her aching body wildly, huge tits swinging. 

When I finally removed the plug the noise the laboring woman made was so erotic I got hard instantly. It was a groan of agonized relief followed immediately by a yelp of pain when yet another contraction closed around her middle. 

Ashley was spent, legs splayed limply, her bowels empty and her ass clenching. The baby had dropped so low by this point she was starting to feel him in her aching hips. She was unimaginably full and the ordeal of the enema had taken it out of her.  After the pain passed, she gathered her composure enough to look up at me beseechingly. 

“Put me out now, please. I don’t want to hurt this bad anymore.”

I had to adjust my rock hard cocktail before moving to her side to slip my special cocktail into her IV. I stroked her face as she started blinking and nodding her head from side to side. I watched as awareness left her eyes and her mouth dropped open with a weak groan.

“Ashley?” I tapped her cheeks, moving her jaw from side to side. Her green eyes stared up without recognition. I reached down and tweaked her engorged nipple and her lips opened to emit a moan of pain.

This was my crowning, pun intended, achievement. I'd perfected a scopolamine cocktail that turns the patient’s brain to mush but leaves her aware enough to feel and respond to the pain of labor in order to be a beautiful, brain dead birthing doll for my and my patron's pleasure.

I left Ashely lying on the bed, contracting now about every three minutes and really feeling it, measuring by her noises, to make a phone call. Then I put an oxygen cannula under her nose, cleaned her up between her legs, checked her dilation, and wrapped her wrists and ankles in towels so there wouldn't be any questions about bruises. 

When John Hutcherson arrived, he looked as eager to get the night started as I was. We'd met during the war when I served as the chief medical officer of his battlefield command. We found out one pregnant local girl later that we shared some frowned upon predilections and now, ten years and a lifetime of experience later, we partake of his wealth and my medical genius as often as we can without raising suspicions.

It's John's wife so, of course, he gets to go first and however he likes. He loses his pants quickly after he walks in and sees her strapped spread eagle, her arms straight out and tied to the table and her legs secured in stirrups. She's screaming through a contraction and oblivious to our presence.

John moves on her like an animal in heat, plunging his generous, throbbing member into her exposed, dilating cunt without any preamble. She shouts as she is brutally and unexpectedly skewered on his cock while a contraction is still ripping through her. He doesn't give her even a moment before he starts pistoning in and out of her so hard her back is slapping up and down on the steel table.

Her titties bounce lewdly, slapping from side to side atop her grotesquely swollen belly, as he rails her with all his strength. I finally go up and hold Ashley’s head to keep in from hitting the table due to the force of her husband’s pounding. Her leaking green eyes are filled with fear and pain but it’s also clear the struggling woman isn’t capable of understanding what’s happening to her. Her world has narrowed to the pain and fullness in her tits, hips, and cunt, and as far as she is concerned, it’s never ending. 

Hutcherson blows his first load when she has an especially hard contraction on his cock. He lets out a surprised gasp and then he’s jerking as he’s milked by his wife’s laboring uterus. Their cries blend in the air, one of utter pain and the other of blissful pleasure. 

When he’s finally able to pull out, his flagging cock plops loose with a squelching sound. His cum mixed with blood and amniotic fluid floods out of her and on to the cloth below. 

The brutal pounding leaves Ashley listless and moaning with a little bit of drool making its way down her chin. It’s part of the beauty of the drug that even though she’s blasted out of her mind, her body is going to push the baby out no matter what. 

Over the next several hours, we take turns playing with her engorged nipples, sucking them to induce contractions. John sticks his hand up her through a couple, shivering with arousal when she cries out and tries to get away from the intrusion. Eventually her agonized sounds change to desperate screeches as transition hits and the contractions become longer and unbearable. We each dip into her a few times while she endures the most painful part of labor and both barely keep from cumming when she clamps down on our dicks and wails. 

It takes her hours to get the baby down but it’s huge in her tiny pelvis and when it gets lodged in her hips, she starts vocalizing low, loud grunts as her body tries to expel the huge head. I almost blew my load too soon when I wedged my dick up against her massive stomach and rolled her hips side to side to help urge the huge load down. 

She screamed bloody murder when it finally crowned and John held it there for a good long while, stroking her engorged clit and easing the head out so she didn’t tear. The body was huge, however, and we had to put her legs as far back as we could to help her deliver the shoulders. Her cries of pain echoed off the walls as I roughly jerked the rest of the body out of her sore cunny. A huge flood of liquid shot out of her bloody slit and she was left with her pussy bared, gaped open and dripping birth fluid. 

I handed the baby off to my loyal nurse who maintained the nursery in the next room and turned back to my friend. He was hard a rock, stroking his wife’s ruined cunny. She was still visibly hurting, both from the sheer size of what just came out and the after birth contractions. 

I climbed on top of the beg, squatted over her deflated belly, and put my dick in between her massive tits. Behind me John let out an erotic groan as he sunk his massive length deep into his wife’s loose, bleeding pussy. It made a nasty squelching sound when he pulled all the way back out and slammed back in as hard as he could. He proceeded to brutally rail his wife’s post birth pussy and I came all over her tits while she flopped up and down on the bed, screaming from the pain. 

The next time I saw Lucy, she was back in her white silk robe, a 17lb baby suckling at her ample breast. She’d reapplied her lipstick but her eyes were bloodshot and she looked like she’d been through hell. She woke up initially screaming about the pain in her pussy and she was still sitting awkwardly, an ice pack on her bruised and throbbing sex. 

That being said, she was thrilled she didn’t remember a single bit of it. She thanked me profusely and told her husband she wanted me to deliver all of her babies. Once her poor little cunny healed, of course. 

Josh and I shared a look over her head. We were already counting down to Ashley’s next labor and delivery.