#feminized male reader

[obsessivevoidkitten]

The Ogre Prince of Breakbend Isle

Male Ogre Yandere x Feminized Male Reader

CW: Noncon, drugging, aphrodisiacs, aphrodisiac cum, kidnapping, voyeurism, masturbation, big musky ogre cock, cockwarming, somnophilia, multiple orgasms, feminized reader, belly bulge from absurdly huge dick, belly bulge from absurdly large amounts of ogre cum, sweet yandere, general yandere behavior

Word Count: 1.4k

(Started writing this last night before the cat thing, then worked more on it until 5am, then finished it up this evening. REALLY hope you all like it, pretty please comment <3)

Breakbend Isle. Not a place any human should ever be. It was a medium-sized island filled with ogre villages. Yet you were there. A storm had taken your tiny fishing ship and washed you up there. The boat had broken hopelessly too. 

You were stranded in dangerous territory. The ogres had a reputation for being brutal and violent towards trespassers, as none who had set foot there had ever returned. 

And you were no exception. Despite your best efforts, your cooking fire was sniffed out miles away by Rahtrig the Wrathful. Prince to the leading ogres of Breakbend Isle, son of a the fiercest ogre warlord in human history. He took after his father, over 7ft tall and all muscle.

He had been hunting for deer but found something far more appetizing for a completely different type of hunger. 

Instead of just walking up and snatching you, he was captivated and wanted to just… watch. You were so pretty. Most ogres found humans to be exceedingly beautiful. No matter the human's gender they made cute little wives. 

Their delicate hands and tongues could greatly pleasure an ogre's prick or massage his big nuts. Rahtrig rubbed his aching crotch in anticipation.

The ogre prince watched you as you ate some fish you had caught. Your tiny little meal that you ate with your delicate little mouth. Then he stared as you disrobed and got into the nearby stream to bathe.

Rahtrig stared in rapt attention at your form. Your perfect small human cock was just so cute. He'd definitely let you grind your cock on his big tongue and let you spill your seed on it. 

He started stroking himself as he watched and fantasized about all the amazing things the two of you could do together. He came quickly, spilling thick cum all over the ground. 

The ogre had to stifle a moan. He wasn't yet ready to steal you away. Instead, he continued to spy on you until you went to sleep on a pile of leaves with only a jacket to cover you.

Rahtrig crept closer and gazed upon the serenity of your sleeping face bathed in the soft moonlight. Then he imagined more domestic and romantic things for the two of you. 

Having you sleep with your head nestled on his huge pecs, lightly drooling on him because of how safe and comfortable you feel. Coming home to you after a long day of hunting or patrol. Maybe even adopting an orphan ogre child and raising it as your own together.

You awoke to find yourself carried over the shoulder of a massive ogre. He stroked your back to comfort you while you cried, kicked, and struggled. 

"Shhh, my small flower, would never hurt you. I'm your husband, Rahtrig!"

Did you hear that correctly?

"What? No! You're not m-"

He chuckled loudly, cutting you off. As if the notion that he wasn't your partner was genuinely hilarious.

"Will feel lots better once we get you on my dick. Will be all you want for days~"

His promise to fuck you until you were a babbling cock addicted mess did nothing to calm you down. His deep, rumbling voice didn't exactly help soothe you either. 

You continued kicking and screaming the entire way until you were just too exhausted to continue.

When he got into the walls of his village, every ogre that happened to see what he was carrying congratulated the both of you on your upcoming marriage. You saw that there were more than a few humans that averted their gaze as Rahtrig passed by with you. Some of them were accompanied by half-ogre offspring.

The ogre holding you saw you staring at the humans and their children.

"You can't get pregnant; it's fine. We'll adopt!"

Your mind swirled with the image of an ogre child much larger and stronger than you running to you and hugging you half to death. And how would you deal with a rebellious teenager that could kill you with one smack? You barely even noticed when he opened the door to a large ogre hut and stepped inside.

Rahtrig sat you down on the bed. You shook in fear as he started a fire. After that, he lit a few candles around the room.  With the hut illuminated, you could see your surroundings clearly.

It was all one room; on this side was a bed and some furniture, and on the other there was a kitchen and eating area. Dried herbs hung from the ceiling, as well as strings of small bones. The heads of various frightening beasts were mounted upon the walls.

You wondered if any of those bones were human and had never wanted to bolt more. But you were in a close walled ogre village, there was really nowhere to run.

With his task of lighting the place done, he turned his attention to you. Much to your dismay.

He took off his large fur loincloth and belt. They were all he was wearing, given the warm climate and the fact that he had only been on a hunt. 

His massive cock sprung free; it was far thicker than your arm and least three feet long, uncut and dripping with precum. It was a slightly darker shade of steel grey than the rest of his body. The musk hit you from several feet away, a heady and manly scent, not exactly unpleasant.

He grabbed a vial of liquid before walking closer.

His balls swung heavily beneath him as he got onto the bed with you, ready to empty their contents deeply into your soft ass.

You cowered and shrank against the wall that the bed was situated beside. Rahtrig could smell your fear. It was unpleasant. You were so obviously stricken with terror. 

That wouldn't do at all. That's the scent you want on prey. Or an enemy you were about to strike down in combat. Not on your pretty bride.

"Calm down, princess; this'll help. Would never hurt you."

Undeterred by your kicks and protests, the ogre prince pulled you over to him carefully and flipped you over on your belly.

Rahtrig opened the vial and slowly poured all the contents directly on your hole, making sure to massage it in as well as possible. You gradually calmed down as it took effect, though you were still quite scared that his cock would simply split you in two.

When he lined up with your hole and sunk into you, though, all remaining anxiety and fear melted away before the pure bliss you felt. 

"Wh-what was in that?"

"Magic potion. Makes humans relax. Also makes em stretchy to take ogre cock."

You only responded by moaning lewdly and pushing your ass back and forth on his dick. Impaling yourself down to the base and creating a perfect stretched outline of his prick in your tummy. 

Rahtrig licked and nipped at your sensitive neck as he thrust slowly. He continued at that leisurely pace until you whimpered for him to go faster. He smirked. He knew once you had been lubed up and then filled with ogre precum that you'd be addicted. Both were potent aphrodisiacs, as was his actual cum.

He pulled out of you and moved you over while he got situated in the bed, lying on his back.

The ogre situated you on his dick and let you ride him at your own pace.

After over an hour of riding him, you had cum several times but were still gripped with arousal. He had cum a few times too; your belly distended with cum that slowly leaked out of you and dripped down his shaft and nuts.

You started crying because you needed more but were just too tired.

Rahtrig wiped away your tears and let you lay on top of him and go gently to sleep as he kept his cock in you to fuck you to sleep.

Eventually his cum and the lube from the vial would wear off, though that could take days. You'd always crave his dick, though, no matter what after the first dose. Though you may still try to resist, it could take a while for you to bond with him. 

He was sure you'd be the perfect wife eventually, though. Even if it took a while for you to be willing. All the humans who landed on the island settled in at some point.

[kitoshii]

whos ? subbot ! bunny hybrid ! male ! reader x domtop ! wolf hybrid ! male character | pt 2

lovin ? kinda psuedocest , feminization , breeding , degradation & praise , size kink / size difference , small reader , overstim …

your first meeting.. was a weird one. your moms telling you the two of you are going for dinner and of course this is a surprise - eating out is not a normal occurrence in your family, home cooked meals are much preferred, and you’re especially surprised when she says to dress in something nice. yet, you pick out clothes, something form flattering yet dressy, and the two of you are on your way to the restaurant when she proposes an idea, as if its from the top of her head. “why don’t we invite another to join us?”

youre naturally confused, but you don’t disagree, and reaching the restaurant, you’re greeted at your reserved table by two carnivores, huge ones at that, and your normally floppy ears perk up in interest. the younger one is tall, dark, and handsome and you’re swooning before you’ve even introduced yourself.

yet- you’re still confused. you’re not dumb, you can tell this was all previously planned and so as the night progresses a little more, you ask your mom about what’s going on. the oldest carnivore at the table barks out a little laugh, as does your mother, and the two explain that they’ve been seeing each other, and marriage is on the table.

so the tall, dark, and handsome wolf is going to be your tall, dark, and handsome brother. much less exciting than you’d have wished, although you are naturally happy for your mother. the night ends quite quickly, and the four of you say your goodbyes before parting ways.

your second meeting.. is what he can only describe as insufferable.

he thinks all of this is insanity. he swears under his breath, licking his fangs. his eyes are forced away from you- you, who is crossing your plush legs as you sit on the couch, leaning your weight on the armrest, exposing the side of your neck. a clean, soft surface is all he sees. something on you thats ready to be marked, littered with indents of his teeth and bruises that prove the presence of his lips on your neck- he adjusts himself where he sat, pulling his pants at the thighs to give relief to the problem he finds growing, quite literally, by the second. he’s afraid if he continues staring any longer he might do something he regrets.

he shouldn’t think this way, he knows he shouldn’t, he’s practically just met you, and under the promise of becoming siblings, but it’s not his fault, is it? you’re a pretty bunny boy, soft skin, soft ears, and soft tail on display for him, he’s known he was going to have a hard time since the moment he saw you - and even worse from the moment he smelt you. you’re so defenseless, the shorts that you’re wearing reveal far too much, your fair skin far too tempting, and your innocent eyes far too beautiful. he wants to ruin it all. he want’s to force you to have to put your guard up when he’s around, to rip the shorts off your plush thighs, exposing whats creating the small, compared to his, bulge in them, he wants to mark up your skin until you’re bleeding, nd he wants to strip the innocence from your eyes, forcing you to keep them closed tight as your tears struggle to crawl out.

his breath turns heavier, pants leaving his parted lips as he squeezes his eyes shut, running a hand through his hair - when he’s snapped out of his deep thoughts after your small hand is rested upon his arm and he’s suddenly aware that you’re directly in front of him- but the only thing he can focus on is your silky thighs, the cute bulge in the middle of them, and how much smaller your hand is than his because fuck, he could ruin you so easily it’s driving him insane.

a soft growl escapes from his throat and he notices the way your hand quickly retracts, and he finally tears his gaze away from his eye candy, trailing his eyes up to your face, noticing the way your long, soft ears pin backwards, as if you were a dog. worry is clear in your eyes and he raises an eyebrow, crossing his legs inconspicuously.

“are you feeling alright?” you mumble softly and his mouth opens for a second before its closed again, his fangs catching on his bottom lip. your voice is sweet like honey yet soft like velvet and his ears twitch, moving in obvious attention to you.

he doesn’t answer you, he’s not even sure if he can, choosing to simply nod his head as he stands up, towering over your small frame. he thinks he hears a squeak escape from you and his hard cock twitches in his pants, flitting through every fantasy that involves your mouth.

your third, fourth and fifth can all be considered normal, but your sixth meeting.. is surprisingly his breaking point.

he prides himself on his restraint. his ability to control his emotions, his urges- but the two of you are at your mothers house, and you are, as usual, far too relaxed, and wearing far too little clothing. he sits on a chair outside in the backyard, the shade a willow tree provides and the gentle wind cooling his face - while his lower half burns in desperation.

you’re none the wiser, innocently indulging in boy-ish behavior as you scavenge green grass for anything that may catch your eye, knees bending the blades underneath you. your back is to him - of course it is, he cant seem to catch a break, he mumbles irritatedly, curling his hands into fists from where they sat on the rests of the chair, his piercing eyes fixated on the curve of your ass, the arch of your back, the squish of your thighs, and the way he can perfectly see a prominent imprint of your balls when you bend far enough forward.

for a few moments he thinks you’re doing this on purpose, that you know of his perverted thoughts and are doing this to maybe punish him, but when your soft ears perk up, and you look back at him with sparkling eyes, a grin on your face to tell him that you’ve found, hell, a cool rock? he knows you wouldn’t do that. you couldn’t do that, you’re too dense to even notice the raging hard on in his pants every time you so much as giggle.

the two of you are inside now, still left alone with each other and you decide to join him where he stood in the kitchen, hungry for something. you open the fridge, leaning down to slide the fruit drawer open, bending at the waist and fuck..

“hm?” you ask, perking up, leaning over to peek at him from behind the fridge door. did he say that aloud?

he scans your face a few minutes before striding over to where you stood. your nose twitches in confusion and despite not being scared, your ears pin themselves back, like a dog. you take a step away from the fridge, beginning to close the door behind you before he’s on you, pressing his arm past your head quickly, closing the fridge door with a bang. you jump slightly, staring at him with big, confused, and worried eyes and his cock fucking jumps because -

“do you know that i.. am a predator?” he mumbles, looking down his nose at you with lidded eyes.

theres a flash of fear in your expression and your mouth gapes slightly. “i know.” you squeak after a beat of silence, trembling hands coming to hold onto your shirt at the chest area

“you know?” he repeats, tilting his head lightly, eyes narrowing as you nod, barely noticeable. “you don’t act like you know.”

a sharp breath escapes you and it takes a minute for you to think of an answer, treading lightly.

“how am i supposed.. to act?”

“..be wary of me. act like at any moment i will pounce on you because fuck, i could.” he growls slightly, moving himself so his forearm is propping him up on the fridge and not his hand - making an already close proximity impossibly closer.

“you could?” you repeat, staring up at him with the same big, innocent eyes but now theres something missing - the worry. the fear. “why haven’t you?” it’s a small mumble, almost a nervous stammer, quiet and hesitant but he heard it. of course he heard it, you’re the only thing he is - and has been focusing on for days.

his heavy breaths pick up, and his stare never falters from your face, slowly scanning your features with calculating movements, immediately catching any change, so when a smile creeps on your lips, a little less innocent than your eyes and in a way, teasing, he catches it. immediately. and he pounces.

a desperate, muffled cry escapes from your wet lips, his big fingers pressing against your soft tongue, sometimes slipping so far back they’d tease your uvula, making you choke around his digits. his big, thick cock presses against your flush thigh for just a moment, leaving a trail of precum.

his hand that wasnt occupied in keeping you a little quieter is three fingers into your hole, tapping your prostate so hard your body jerks with every press. he’s skilled with his hands, a cocky grin overtaking his face as his ears twitch with every cute sound from your throat and every sloppy sound from your asshole. you’re tight, too tight, he’s not quite sure his dick will fit passed the tip, but he knows you want it, and god knows he wants it too.

the thought of filling you up, of wrecking your small body and moulding you into a cockwhore for him has been infecting his mind like a virus, and he’d be damned if he stopped for anything but a safe word.

a sob fills his ears and suddenly he realizes you’d came a few seconds ago, your legs trembling and kicking up from overstimulation, sensitive dick pressing into the mattress involuntarily before jerking away.

he coos, quite condescendingly, slipping his wet fingers out of your hole, placing a light tap on your balls.

“was it too much for you, bunny?” he asks, pulling you up so your back was flush with his chest, watching as you nod with a dazed look on your tear filled face.

“yeah?” a mischievous grin that you’re unable to see spreads across his lips and wandering hands snake around you, squeezing your pretty thighs, before grasping your hard cock. his breath hitches as his entire hand envelops your small cock and his own twitches, a groan escaping his throat.

“fuck,” he laughs, watching as your hips attempt to pull away from his hand. “so fuckin small compared to me.” he grins, beginning to fist your cock, twisting his wrist around it. your reaction is immediate, a loud wail echoing through the room, your hands reaching out to clasp around his bigger one in a silent plea for mercy.

with reluctance, he gives it to you, letting you fall forward on to the bed. you sniffle, hiccuping softly before pushing yourself to your knees, arching your back as far as you could with your chest to the bed, presenting your ass to him, your fluffy tail wagging in desperation.

his mouth practically waters, hand finding its way down to his dick, closing it around himself before you reach your hands behind, spreading yourself apart to expose your twitching hole. this was you submitting , giving him full control of your body and the situation, and suddenly his instincts were screaming at him to breed you. to rut into you so much that his cum was spilling out, to imprint himself onto you, and to knock you up. to fuck you so full you had to carry his pups.

his stomach coiled and suddenly he couldn’t think, he couldn’t reason. the only thing clear to him was to breed, breed, breed.

he flips you onto your back, using a generous amount of lube, allowing his cockhead to catch onto your hole. you whimper - he’s bigger than his fingers - much thicker, much longer, and much, much hotter. you barely have time to prepare yourself before he’s grabbing your thighs in his hands, the skin spilling over his fingers at how tight his grip is - and suddenly his cock is fucked into you at full force. he bottoms out first thing and even the sound of your voice is delayed, the air being punched from your chest as your mouth hangs open in a silent scream, before a loud shriek does jump through his ears as he begins rutting into you, as if he were a dog in heat.

overtaken with how tight you are around him, and how small you are compared to him, he presses your knees up, bending you in half, watching his big cock sink into your tight hole, and the sight is almost what tips him over.

“fu-huck,” he moans, his pelvis slapping harshly against your thighs with every sharp, deliberate piston of his hips. “takin’ me so well baby, pretty cunts sucking me in so nicely.”

his deep voice riddled with obvious need and want has your ass squeezing around him, your dick twitching as it slaps against your stomach with every rough thrust.

your noises are punched out of you and then cut off with every thrust, the harshness of them making your brain spin and legs convulse. his hold on you does nothing to hide the shaking of your thighs and body, and it makes him groan in satisfaction, a smug smirk overtaking his face.

your drool and tears slide down your chin, pretty, soaked eyelashes batting quickly as you struggle between keeping your eyes open or letting them roll back. his large frame adjusts on top of you, thrusts never faltering despite his red, burning cock growing closer to release. the new angle allows him to hold your legs flush to your chest with his shoulders, while giving room to hold your clawing hands into place and he smirks, before leaning back slightly - and his entire body jerks forward, mouth falling open, fangs baring to pierce harshly into your neck as his eyes roll back because fuck - the bulge in your soft stomach is proof enough that he’s making room in your gut for his huge cock, because you’re just so fucking small.

you kick and cry at his teeth piercing your skin because it hurts, it hurts, but you’re marked and claimed and now he wont stop. teeth covering the expanse of your neck, cock drilling into your prostate with no sign of stopping anytime soon. all you can do is take it like a whore.

“thas’ it.. good girl, my cock was jus’ made for you, isn’t that right, bunny?” he growls and your hard cock spits out something like cum again at just his words because god, his deep voice, the constant stimulation on your prostate and the dirty talk did something to you.

he’s rutting into you so roughly, goin’ so hard nd deep, and you claw at his shoulders, blunt nails doing no real damage, begging him with wails and sobs to hurry up and cum because your tiny cock is so spent nd your tight hole is gonna be gaping afterwards with the effort of fitting such a large cock into you.

for a moment you think this was a bad idea - you think that he wont stop until you’re passed out, his instincts running his brain too wild, but with a thrust up into your stomach and a press down onto his cock bulge from the outside - with help from a desperate wail and a squeal that escaped your mouth - he’s cumming buckets into your soft stomach with a mumbled, “gonna fuckin breed you bunny,” pumping his hot, sticky load into you, filling you so much it’s leakin’ onto the sheets, his knot pressing painfully against your ass hole, threatening a breach as he ruts up feverishly, growls and titters leaving his throat, canines biting into his lip.

hellooo, im kiyoshi, your writer, nd his is my first fanfiction ! its very self indulgent, nd eng isn’t my first language but if you enjoyed, this is me askin’ you to please reblog nd maybe even follow me to support writers ! we can become great friends ! ^.^

[0o-junebug-o0]

Pretty Girl

summary: you have spencer try on a skirt, but neither of you expected to enjoy it this much.

genre: smut

cw: 18+ mdni! sub!spencer, softdom!reader, dirty talking, praise, kink discovery, feminization, spencer in a skirt, use of good girl, use of princess, handjobs, cumming in pants, completely gn!reader (reader is not described at all), no use of y/n, autistic!spencer (because every spencer is autistic!spencer), kink discussion at the end

wordcount: 1k

a/n: this is inspired by the fic "FBI's resident pretty girl" by stainlesssteel on ao3, it gave me feminized spencer brain worms so y'all should check it out.

“Would you be willing to try on a skirt?”

Spencer stops reading and looks over at you from across the couch, surprised. You feel your cheeks warm with embarrassment.

“You don’t have to, of course,” you continue. “I just— I’ve been thinking about it for a while, and I think you’d look really good.”

You can practically see the gears turning in Spencer’s head.

“Really?” he asks softly.

You nod. “I, um, I bought one that would fit you the other day on a whim. But you really don’t have to. I can always return it.”

He closes his book and sets it aside. “No,” he says softly, nervously. “I’ll try it on.”

You beam at him and practically leap off the couch, holding out your hand to help Spencer up. He hasn’t needed his cane in a few months now, but helping him stand has become a habit. “Wonderful! Come on, sweet boy, it’s in the bedroom.” 

Spencer flushes and takes your hand, letting you pull him off the couch. He lets you lead him to your shared bedroom and park him in the middle of the room. “Stay there,” you say excitedly, patting him on the chest, “I’ll be right back.”

You scamper over to the closet and pull a high-waisted, pleated, white and gray plaid skirt off of a back hanger. You spin around and hold the skirt out in front of you with a smile as you walk back over to Spencer. You hand it to him, and he examines the skirt like it’s some sort of alien artifact.

“Pants off!” you say cheerfully.

Spencer flushes again and drapes the skirt over his arm to undo his belt and push his slacks off his hips. They fall to his ankles, leaving him just in his black boxer briefs, and he awkwardly climbs out of the pants, kicking them aside with a mismatched socked foot. Spencer nervously steps into the skirt and slowly pulls it up his legs. The skirt settles just over his hips and falls to a bit below his mid-thigh. You stare at him in awe. He looks gorgeous.

Spencer’s face is impossibly red when you look back up at him, and he wrings his hands together over his stomach. You reach up, tangling your hand in his hair, and pull him in for a quick kiss. “You look amazing, Spencer,” you say when you pull away. “You look like such a pretty girl!”

Spencer’s breath hitches and his eyes blow wide.

Oh, that’s new. And really fucking hot.

You smirk at him. “You like that, baby? You like it when I call you a pretty girl?” you ask teasingly, stepping closer to him.

Spencer’s gaze drops for a moment, embarrassed, but he nods desperately. 

“Yeah?” you coo. “You wanna be my pretty girl?” He looks back up at you and nods slightly. You’re so turned on your whole body feels like it’s burning up.

“Words, sweetheart.” You run your hands over his chest and down to the waistline of his skirt, rubbing your thumbs over his hips in the way you know drives him crazy.

“Y-yes,” he whispers.

You smile. “Good girl,” you purr.

Spencer whimpers at the praise, and you slip your hand down the front of his skirt and into his underwear, suddenly feeling very glad that you bought a skirt with an elastic waist. Spencer gasps as you wrap your hand around his cock and curls forward to press his head into your neck as you begin to stroke him. He pants and whines, weakly thrusting into your hand and digging his fingers desperately into your hips, unable to control himself.

“Aww, look at you,” you tease, sliding your free hand into his hair. “Pretty girl in a pretty skirt, with such pretty, long hair.” You tug lightly and Spencer whines. “You’re practically a princess.”

Spencer’s hips buck forward desperately. 

“You like being my princess, sweet girl?” you ask.

Spencer nods frantically, pressing sloppy, open-mouthed kisses against your neck that make you groan. His grip on your hips tightens and he’s clinging to you like a lifeline.

He gasps your name weakly. 

“Aww, baby, are you close already?” you ask, feigning disapproval. 

Spencer whimpers and nods again, thrusting wantonly into your hand. 

“Yeah? You gonna cum for me, princess?”

Spencer continues to nod, his moans rapidly rising in pitch as he gets closer and closer.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Be a good girl and cum for me.”

With a weak cry of your name, Spencer cums hard all over your hand and his boxers. You stroke him through it until he’s trembling and whining, barely able to hold himself up. 

You carefully remove your hand, wiping it clean on your pants, and guide him backward onto the bed. You climb up next to him, holding him gently and pressing kisses to the top of his head. Spencer hums contentedly. “Do you want me to—“ he starts.

You shake your head and cup his cheek, pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose. “I’m alright, sweetheart. This was about you. Did you have fun?”

Spencer nods. “I-I didn’t expect that,” he says softly.

“Yeah? You didn’t know you wanted to be my good girl?” you ask. Spencer whines and buries his head in your neck out of embarrassment. You chuckle lightly and run your hand through his hair soothingly. “That’s okay, sweetheart. I really liked it, too.”

Spencer pulls back to look you in the eye. “Really?”

You nod. “Of course,” you reassure. “It was really fucking hot. You look amazing in that skirt, and I loved taking care of my pretty girl.”

Spencer blushes. “C-can we do this again sometime?” he asks nervously. “Not always. I still like being your good boy, probably most of the time. But every once in a while, can I be your good girl again?”

Excitement burns in your chest. You smile and kiss him hard, making Spencer gasp against your lips. “Of course, baby. We can do this whenever you want. Now, c’mon, let’s get you a bath and into something clean.”

_____

REQUESTS ARE (temporarily) CLOSED!

Taglist!: fill out this form if you want to be tagged when I post fics

@daryls-crossbow16 @roboticsuccubus83 @nemobee777 @kittensandkrows @dorcas4meadowes @spenciesslut @Idfk17 @pleasantwitchgarden @angeliccss @novaana @moonysreid @cynbx @i-live-in-spite @dead-universe @starlighta @ilyremuslupin @mylove4lana @greyslover3004 @written-in-the-stars @readerbitch123 @khxna @emma-e-a @yahboohah

[ak319]

Yan Socialite Brother x reader x Yan?Hubby

YOUR LITTLE EZZY'S BACK! So I couldn't help but write more about him. I will also write a version with the reader's wife. Enjoy reading ♡ Ezra Headcanon

In the dark hours, the Alvarez estate was shrouded in a thick silence, broken only by the occasional crackle of the fire that danced in the hearth. Shadows stretched across the grand, dimly lit room, adding to the air of peculiar mystery that seemed to cloak the entire estate. Ezra sat motionless, his gaze fixed on the flames that flickered with a restless energy, mirroring the turmoil within him. The news you had shared with him still echoed in his mind, fanning the fire of his emotions, making it burn hotter, fiercer.

"Amir?.." his eyes were fixed on your back as you scrummaged through the bookshelf. You replied back gently. "Yes, Amir. The boy who works on one of the farms."

So a slave huh?

And then you explained everything to Ezra, from how you saw Amir, appreciated his gentle nature, and were now thinking of bringing him here as your groom. Ezra’s rage simmered beneath the surface, though his fake smile and curious eyes never left your face. But your tone didn’t match the word "thinking", it clearly said, "I am bringing him as my groom." He was happy… happy for you. But on the other hand, he wasn’t happy for himself.

This was the day he had dreaded. For his own peace of mind, he sent one of his attendants, Rowan, to inquire about this so-called Amir. The report? Amir was a poor servant with three siblings and parents who also worked on the farm. Amir was the oldest. Hm. Poor, innocent, loyal, and not too bad-looking, though in Ezra's eyes, everyone pales in comparison to Alvarez's. Nobody can ever be good enough for you. He just didn't want his sister to marry a dirt-face. After all, their family has a certain dignity in society. There was something he relished in this situation, Amir’s meekness, bred by his lower status, was something Ezra could use and if his sister were to marry, it should be to someone who knows their place.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

Amir couldn’t shake the memory of the way you approached him that day.

“M-my lady-”

“It’s okay, relax. Just came to greet you and see how the work is going.” His hand continued to glide through the horse’s mane, though his gaze, filled with shyness and respect, lingered on you. You loved that. “What’s your name, boy?”

“A-Amir…ma’am.” You asked him more questions, and with each one, his initial fear of you began to fade. Eventually, he even dared to ask some of his own. He didn’t realize that he had backed away to the fence, cornered by your every step forward.

“I don’t think a…” You gently removed a leaf from his silky hair. “A pretty thing like you belongs on a farm.” His quick breaths brushed your face before he turned away. Did you just compliment him?! How could you not? He was so unique with that snowy hair and those pale green eyes. “U-um, but I have to-w-work to earn-for-”

“What if I say, not anymore?”

On that very day, you boldly asked his parents for his hand in marriage, right there on the farm, while Amir stood paralyzed in disbelief. His parents, naturally, agreed without a moment's pause, and his heart raced as he caught your final glance over your shoulder before you rode off with your men. How could a humble servant like him ever be worthy of becoming your husband? The idea felt impossible, undeserved. But as the reality settled in, he came to see it not as a blessing but as a test---a daunting trial between love, loyalty, hate… and obsession.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

'Time to play some games' Ezra smirked in the mirror as he gave himself a once-over. "Nobody can outshine you Ezra or take your place, nobody."

The grand staircase of the mansion, lavishly adorned for his sister's wedding, became the stage for Ezra's entrance. As he descended, everyone’s eyes were drawn to him. His gaze landed on you seated beside Amir on the sofa, and his smirk widened at the sight of Amir’s expression. Those doe eyes that have seduced his sister were now filled with embarrassment, as they should be.

Amir was at a loss. His brother-in-law, dressed in an outfit nearly identical to his own--albeit more glamorous and in a different color--had just exposed Ezra's facade. All the sweet words and actions before the wedding had been an act. Ezra settled onto the cushion next to you, casually nibbling on some food from the table, savoring the revelation of his little game.

"Ezra, you should have rested," you said, your tone carrying a hint of concern. Amir was taken aback, noticing your relaxed demeanour. It seemed you hadn’t caught onto Ezra’s stunt. It wasn’t your fault, after all. Maybe you are too tired to notice or don't want to scold your brother, whom you cherish deeply, especially in front of guests—many of whom were now eyeing Ezra with a mix of admiration and curiosity. His display was a calculated reminder that he would always eclipse Amir. Ezra had even missed the official ceremony, claiming illness as his excuse and retreating to his room.

"Nonsense!. How could I have missed my own sister's wedding? And did you forget that I managed all these preparations?. I would never miss it."

'Oh, but you missed the vow ceremony, how convenient and now he's here to remind everyone how he managed all of this and such a good brother-in-law he is by being sweet to me and my family.'

"Do I look good, sister?"

"Of course you do. When have you ever looked bad?" You reached out to pat his head affectionately before pulling a small pouch from your pocket. "This is for you Ezra, a token of appreciation for your efforts, as tradition dictates."

Ezra’s eyes sparkled with delight as he accepted the pouch of gold. "It was nothing. Thank you so much. I just did my duty."

He got up soon to cater to guests including Amir's family probably to show off how humble he is.

The only thing keeping Amir sane and easing his worries was you. Your hand held his gently, and he felt comforted by the ring you put on his finger. He placed his other hand on yours, needing the reassurance that you were there for him.

‘As long as you’re here,’ he kept praying silently.

However, as days passed since the marriage, Ezra's facade toward his brother-in-law began to crumble in your absence. Amir couldn’t understand why Ezra, who had been nothing but nice to him, now seemed to act cold and distant.

The taunts, the disgusted glances, and the deliberate ignoring of Amir had become a painful routine. What troubled him the most was Ezra’s ability to put on a friendly front when you were around. He wondered how a person could even do that? Can he be this deceitful too? His parents always taught him to be kind and true to people. That is why he bared himself to you, he opened his heart to you and gave himself completely. By now he had come to terms with it that Ezra won't ever see him as part of the family much less as an equal. But he remained focused on making sure you were happy with him, that he never made you upset with him because that is what Ezra wants but with Amir's modest and docile nature, it was nearly impossible,

"You know, Amir, since my sister is away on a business trip, you might as well stay with your parents for a while." Amir looked up from his untouched breakfast, confusion and concern etched on his face.

"U-um... why?"

"Why?" Ezra's lips curled into a dismissive smirk. "Well, your duty is to her, and since she’s not here, you might as well go. It’s not like you’re doing anything important around here."

"But—"

"I’ll have the carriage prepared." And just like that he got up and left, Rowan tailing behind him. And so, Amir found himself spending days with his family. His spirits lifted somewhat in their comforting presence, but his thoughts were always clouded by how much he longed to be in your arms. However...

"You don’t just get up and leave like this. Did you even realize how badly this reflects on me? My spouse just vanished after a few days of marriage. I expected you to be waiting for me at the door, but instead, you were here." Your words felt like sharp needles piercing his heart, making him clutch the carriage’s cushion tighter. His mind was filled with images of Ezra welcoming you back, whispering deceitful tales of how he had left.

'He was bored.'

'He doesn’t like it here. I think he doesn't even want to make an effort to adjust.'

'He didn’t even bother to greet you. What kind of husband is he, sister?'

"(Y/N), I d-didn’t mean to leave. It’s just--" What could he say to avoid further anger? Should he blame Ezra? The thought of making excuses or casting blame only added to his distress.

"I don’t care. Next time, don’t leave like that. And if you feel the need to, ask me first. Got it? Also, you can just call your family to visit there. That’s your home now, you don’t have to keep coming back here." He nodded, biting his lip. 'As if your brother would ever let my family feel welcome there. I would never subject them to that mansion of thorns, to be insulted. That’s something I won’t tolerate.'

"Forgive me?" he asked softly, leaning closer to you. "Please, I missed you with every breath." A tired sigh and a gentle caress on his face were all he received, but even that was more than enough for him.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

Time seemed to pass slowly for Amir, each day filled with torment and venomous words from Ezra. He hid his tears, letting them out in some corner of the mansion , so that when you returned, he could greet you with a smile. He didn’t know what to do. He didn't want to stress you by complaining about your brother or involving you in this petty game. He felt like he was going mad as he dwelled on his thoughts. The books offered some solace, but he wished his life were more like a fairytale.

“Well, I thought you should take care of the household budget now, but I think it’s too soon for you to handle this. There are a number of reasons for my distrust, which... I would prefer not to share.”

“It’s alright... I just joined the family, so I think it’s inappropriate for me to take on that responsibility. And brother Ezra is handling it well anyway.”

“Thank you for understanding.” You gently played with his hair as his head rested on your lap. “I love how understanding you are.” He melted under your compliment, the magical touch adding to his contentment.

“Anything for you, wife. You know better than me. Whatever decision you make, I’ll always accept it.” He kissed your finger, his heart swelling with happiness at the sight of the ring you wore. The ring his family had bought with whatever they could afford, and yet you wore it. You were the only one who hadn’t looked down on him because of his status. You even cared for his family, sending them provisions and gifts.

Actually, there was another person who hadn't looked down on Amir--your mother, Ms. Grace. She was a woman who preferred solitude, keeping herself busy with her hobbies after her husband's death. Whenever Amir felt alone, he made sure to check on her, offering company and conversation.

“You’re a really good boy. My daughter found a gem.” Amir smiled, but his eyes told a different story. They were seated in Grace’s study, having tea. “Something troubles you, and I know what it is. It’s Ezra, isn’t it?” Damn it, is it that obvious?

“N-no, no, he’s nice. I’m just--”

“Oh, save it. He’s my son, I can smell his shenanigans from miles away. And that daughter of mine—utterly stupid!. She’s the reason he’s like this. Either she’s too aloof or just chooses to ignore it.”

“No, no! She has a lot on her plate. I just don’t want to burden her with such petty problems. She brought me here so that she could find peace, not for me to disrupt it.” Grace’s heart swelled with pity and love at his words. “You are my son too, okay? And I’m just trying to help you understand that you’re the only one who can help yourself.”

“W-what does that mean?”

"It means you have to be strong. You’re not some piece of garbage my daughter picked up. She brought you here, gave you a title, and bestowed you with respect--so honor it, and don’t let anyone take it away just because they think you don’t deserve it. My in-laws were a piece of work too. May their souls rest in peace, but I went through some tough times with them. What kept me firm was my husband. Do you get my point?"

Her in-laws--oh, what a tragedy that befell them on that ferry. The whole town was shaken. Perhaps it was their karma.

“Yes.”

"You love her, right?" His head snapped up to meet her eyes. Was that even a question?

"More than anything! Always."

"Then don’t beat yourself up like this. Just do your part and leave the rest to God. Everything will be alright one day." Amir nodded and took a sip of his remaining tea, feeling a bit lighter and more hopeful. She was right. Being depressed and crying wouldn’t get him anywhere. Worse, you might even leave him because of his sulky behavior. His fingers tightened around the saucer.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

"Sir Ezra has called for you," Rowan informed him as he was putting on his shoes. The two of you were getting ready for dinner. "Me?"

"Yes, you, sir. In his room."

"I'll be there." He glanced at you as you were fastening your coat. "Yeah, go ahead, I'll be waiting downstairs." He nodded and left, but not before helping you with your sleeve buttons and giving you a quick peck.

"You called for me?" His smooth voice reverberated in the quiet room, his eyes finding Ezra nestled in his giant bed.

"Oh yes, you two are going out, right? Could you tell (Y/N) to bring back those pastries that I love?" Something felt off.

Amir swallowed the uneasiness and glanced between Ezra and Rowan. "Sure. Anything else?"

"No. That would be all, thank you."

As always, you had chosen a high-end restaurant, and your presence and attention made him forget all his worries. This was what he cherished the most, his time with you. Your care, your love. He felt, no, believed that he was the luckiest man alive. Contrary to Grace's words, you did pick him from the trash and made him your treasure.

When you both entered the mansion hand in hand, your smile immediately faded into a worried frown.

"EZRA!" Amir barely had time to react as he saw you rush up the stairs where Ezra was now slumped against the railing. The bag of pastries had been thrown from your hands and lay at his feet.

"ROWAN! CALL THE DOCTOR! What happened, Ezra?!"

"Di-did you bring the med...?" Ezra's one hand gripped your collar as the other his stomach.

"What medicine?!"

"The one I asked for..." Ezra's weary, hollow gaze turned to Amir, sending a chill through his very core. "Rowan, help me carry him." You shot a sharp glance over your shoulder at Amir as you hurried up the stairs.

'He did it again... God,' Thought Amir as he bent down to collect the crumbles scattered on the carpet. They mirrored his own shattered emotions and the fractured state of his new life.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

"I swear he asked for pastries... you believe me, don't you!? Please!"

"I said, let it go. Just shut up." You settled onto the bed, sighing as you saw him standing in the corner, emotionless.

"Amir, come here. There is something you should know." Your tone was soft, almost apologetic.

He sat beside the bed, his eyes cast on the floor. "Listen, I feel like you both don't get along, but that needs to change, okay? He is my brother, and you are my husband. Both of you are important to me. And I wanted to tell you that soon after having a talk with him, I will ask Mother to find a suitable bride for him. This family needs an heir."

Wait...

"Heir?"

"Yes, an heir. Even though, as you know, I'm not a fan of children in any shape or form, the line needs to continue. That is Ezra's duty, so he is essential to me. This whole tedious business of having children...ugh." You rubbed your forehead in frustration. "Whatever. But we will also treat them like our own, okay?" You loathed the idea of carrying a child yourself, and Amir was just as opposed to the thought of you experiencing any discomfort. The thought of losing you over that made him shiver. The business was more important to you than anything, and you made that very clear before marriage. Your word was law. Still, he couldn’t help but ask.

"C-can't we both... adopt, though?"

"That's for another day and why adopt now when we can have our own? Ezra has to marry someday. It’s completely fair. He needs to grow up now."

Your tone and earlier outburst made him nod frantically, but a new emotion stirred within him , something close to amusement. Oh, how will Ezra react when you make him marry someone. Maybe it’s for the best, 'At least he’ll get off my back, hopefully.'

Yet, he also felt pity for the woman who would be bound to that two-faced bastard. Is your only goal to use your brother as a breeder? That’s even more amusing.

As you lay down, he went to the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror. If Ezra were to provide you with a child one day, wouldn’t that make him more honorable in your eyes?

'No, after today’s stunt, I’ve had enough of this.'

You want a child, an heir--that’s clear, that's fine. But he won’t let Ezra exploit this situation.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

"I--I mean--" Ezra stammered, his usual confidence wavering as he tried to find the right words.

You held his face in your hands, your grip firm yet gentle, your eyes searching his. "It's not like I am asking for something outrageous here," you said, your tone soft but laced with expectation.

Ezra's eyes darted away for a moment, then back to you. "I get you, but isn’t it too soon? I mean-"

"You're of age," you cut him off, your tone now tinged with a bit of annoyance. "You’ve never rejected anything I’ve asked of you before, and now you are?"

"NO! No, absolutely not, sister!" Ezra's voice was a mix of desperation and determination. "How can you even think that? I will do it. I will." Inside, though, his mind rebelled. It’s not the marriage that Ezra hates, it’s the idea of spending his life with some annoying woman. What if she turns out to be a snake too?! Oh, he won't forgive that, ever. His eyes betrayed a flicker of dread before he quickly masked it with a forced smile.

"Great, then. Mother will surely find the most amazing match for you," you said with finality, turning to leave. "Just make sure to tell her what your type is. Remember, she shouldn’t just be a good wife but a perfect mother for my heir too."

Without another word, you exited the room, leaving Ezra alone with his spiraling thoughts. Did Amir put this idea in your head? Sometimes, Ezra just wanted to kill that son of a-

"Deep breaths, Ezra, deep breaths," he muttered to himself, trying to quell the surge of frustration. Yeah, his sister wouldn’t be happy if her husband was torn to pieces. 'This is your life now', seeing Amir’s face in this mansion every single day, and soon enough, a wife’s too. Ugh! He threw a vase at the wall in a fit of irritation. He won't ever be in peace until you divorce Amir.

He couldn’t afford to dwell on that for now. He had to carry out your order, even if he despised the thought of dealing with an annoying woman and whining babies. You had given him a task, a job, and he couldn’t let you down. He would never let you down.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

Ezra's bride, Jean Aston, had been chosen--an arrangement made with a family friend. While Ezra couldn't have cared less about the choice, he at least appreciated that Jean stood out with her striking red hair and green eyes. His wife needed to be of some caliber, though in his view, only one person could be the true beauty of the marriage, and that person was unquestionably him. However, he also acknowledged the importance of passing on good genes to the heir you desired.

What he hadn’t expected was Jean’s bubbly demeanor. Wasn't she the one who had been too shy to meet him before the wedding?

"Can you be quiet? Can you be a bit more demure?" Ezra snapped, his patience wearing thin as she chattered incessantly, sitting beside him after their vows. "Look at me--am I being so chattery? Bride and groom are supposed to be graceful, woman."

Jean’s expression soured beneath her veil. "Wow, I was just trying to make small talk. I’ve been quiet since our engagement, so I’m going to talk now that we’re married. Also when is the food going to served?I am starving, how can-"

'God, just let this ceremony end already.'

Meanwhile, in the far corner of the room, Amir sighed, silently wishing Jean the best. Poor girl didn’t know what she was in for. His mind wandered back to his own wedding, the memory leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. It was hard not to compare the two experiences and feel a twinge of sympathy for her. At least you are way better than Ezra. A lot...no, perfect in his eyes. Always.

Once they retreated to their room, Ezra lifted Jean's veil with a cold, expressionless face, cutting her off before she could utter a word.

"There are some things you need to engrain in that skull of yours. First, always show respect for my sister. Always. You know that, don’t you? Secondly, try talking less and listening more."

"Got it! Now, where’s my wedding gift?" Jean’s cheerful interruption made Ezra’s jaw tighten, but he quickly masked his irritation with a smooth composure.

"No, you tell me first--who advised you to wear a harvest gold veil with such questionable embroidery? Huh? Such a poor fashion choice. I’ve explicitly told your family that gold is my color, I wear it. I don’t want to see you in it again." His fingers traced the material with a disdainful touch. "This abomination definitely needs fixing ." Though the veil was actually quite pretty, he couldn’t accept the fact that she looked good in it-- perhaps more than he did which is a big no.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

Months later, the mansion, once quiet and dull, now echoed with the cries of a baby boy whom you named, Joseph. Ezra handed you the baby first which you were hesitant to hold but did anyway, after all you asked for this. It only lasted for a few minutes before he dozed off in Jean's arms.

"Jean," you said, gently patting her head. She looked up at you with a mix of nervousness and curiosity, her eyes brightening with anticipation. You took the papers from Amir and handed them to her. "Here's a gift. A plot, in your name and another in dear Joseph's. You’ve earned it."

Jean’s eyes widened with surprise and gratitude. "Y-you didn’t have to, (Y/N)-"

"Jean," Ezra scolded gently, his tone surprising you. It seemed that your brother had softened a bit since Joseph’s birth.

"Don’t refuse (Y/N)'s gift. Accept it," he added. Jean nodded, her shyness evident, but her gratitude clear as she met your gaze. "Thank you, (Y/N)."

"Good, now rest. The nanny will arrive soon," you instructed, leaving with Amir in tow. Ezra shot a disapproving look at Amir as they exited.

"Don’t be rude to Brother Amir like that," Jean reprimanded.

"It’s none of your concern. Stop being his defender, anyway. Focus on the child, his upbringing must be perfect. And take care of yourself too--I don’t want you fainting while feeding him." With that, Ezra stormed out. Jean sighed, finding him as unpredictable as ever--hot one moment, cold the next.

The tragedy that struck when Joseph was just six months old was unexpected. The poor child fell gravely ill, and even the doctors couldn't pinpoint what was wrong with his stomach. But by some blessing, everyone's prayers were answered when Amir's remedy worked, one his mother used to give when they were sick as children and Joseph was saved. Had it been a moment later, who knows what could have happened. Even though Ezra didn't bother to thank Amir, it didn’t matter. Amir did it for you, for your child.

༺𓆩❀𓆪༻

"You know, I think it's been a while since I married you," you murmured, lost in thought.

Amir looked up from his book and chuckled, "Oh, you realized it now? I think it's been more than a while, my dearest."

"I know, I know." You now stood where he was seated, gently caressing his cheek. "I think it's time you start doing your duty here." You handed him the seal, "You're in charge of the household's budget now." Amir's eyes widened in surprise. "B-but brother Ezra--"

"Shush," you interrupted. "I decide how things are run here. And I’m giving you this responsibility. Don’t disappoint me."

He nodded, a grateful smile spreading across his face as he kissed your knuckles. "Never, I won’t ever dream of it."

From within, his heart was bursting with happiness. At last, he had something--something he wanted, something he could use as leverage against Ezra. His plan had worked flawlessly. His hidden knowledge of botany had made it all possible; plants to make poison, plants to make antidote. A soft giggle escaped him and so did some tears, as you left the room, the seal twirling between his fingers.

Deep inside, he couldn’t ignore the guilt gnawing at him as he saw the pain etched on everyone’s faces over Joseph. His own tears stung with remorse, but he believed it was a good plan--a necessary one to win your trust, your love. He hadn’t wanted to be so heartless, to poison his own child, but he felt he had no choice. Being Ezra’s doormat for so long had worn him down. And for once, watching Ezra in distress was so worth it. Amir couldn’t help but relish every moment.

(AN: OmG, Amir really turned dark, the poor innocent boi. Look how Ezra massacred my boy)

[sister-lucifer]

Love After Life

Claude Theroux (Ghost OC) x Male Reader

Genre: Smut 

Summary: When the ghostly groom mistakes you for his lost bride on a dark Halloween night, you can’t stop yourself from giving into him. 

Content/Warnings: AMAB Reader, unprotected anal sex, cumming inside, Reader crossdressing as a bride for Halloween, a little dubcon but not really only at first, mentions of death + fire, pet names (my love, my darling, various French pet names, etc), Claude refers to Reader with feminine terms because he has weird ghost brain stuff going on and doesn’t realize he’s not his wife, pregnancy/breeding, does this count as force fem?

A/N: Happy (slightly late) Halloween, everyone! ʚ♡ɞ

THIS IS NOT FULLY PROOFREAD! PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU SEE ANY TYPOS!

Believing in ghost stories is a feat that has always hovered just outside your field of reality, what you know to be true. Sure, you can suspend your disbelief to humor a friend now and again, but nothing beyond that. Of course, curiosity has a nasty habit of overpowering basic logic; when your phone pinged with a video from a friend about the supposedly haunted manor on White Oak Hill, you couldn’t resist giving it a watch. 

You rolled your eyes at the cheesy music that immediately started up upon hitting play, snuggling into bed with your free hand in a bag of snacks. You didn’t expect much at all, really. From the look of the video, it seemed like just another ploy for views from a subpar channel profiting off of kids who are still scared of monsters under the bed. You were far too intelligent for that. 

“The haunted house on White Oak Hill has been circulating once again, now that Halloween is coming around,” the narrator spoke, putting on an obviously forced voice while stock b-roll of a graveyard panned across the screen, “but what really happened to make it so haunted? Stay tuned to find out, but first, we want to tell you about our new merch drop—“

You groaned aloud, immediately skipping ahead. You could not be less interested in whatever they were peddling.  

“…and it was then, in July of 1945, that tragedy struck.” 

Ah. That’s more like it.

“Newlywed French aristocrats, Suzanne and Claude Theroux, had just arrived at White Oak Manor, where they intended to spend their honeymoon…”

Ugh, how cliché. You skipped forward a few more seconds, running out of patience fast. 

“…The couple moved downstairs, still dressed in their reception clothes, and completely oblivious to the fire blooming up in the master bedroom. Somehow, a recently lit candelabra had knocked over, causing the charred wick to burn one of the curtains, and the flames were growing rapidly. In their panic, Suzanne managed to escape, but Claude was not so lucky…” 

The music faded out, as did the visuals. As much as you’d hate to admit it, they had reeled you in. You didn’t even realize how close you’d gotten to the screen throughout that monologue, at least not until—

“…but first, a word from our sponsors.” 

Oh, fuck this! 

The shrill text tone jolts you out of an embarrassingly deep sleep. You wipe the drool from your chin as you scramble to sit up, phone sliding off of your chest. Looks like you fell asleep watching that video. So much for scary—you slept like a baby. 

You pick up your phone and look at the notification. You can’t help but roll your eyes as you type out your reply. 

Unfortunately, you actually had to consider that. 

You’re not exactly strapped for cash or struggling to scrape by, but it sure as hell would make you a lot more secure and comfortable to know you at least have that extra hundred put away in case of an emergency.

…Ugh. 

“Oh my god,” you mutter, stumbling through the doorway of the old house, “this is stupid. This is so stupid…” 

Somehow, you’ve gotten this far without putting all of this to a stop.  Maybe it was the hundred dollars floating just out of reach like a carrot on a stick, maybe it was morbid curiosity, or maybe it was just plain idiocy, but you really let this happen. Wow. 

Each step makes the wooden floors creak underfoot, the boards hissing in protest to your weight. You struggle to keep your balance in the tacky heels you were forced into, which are as uncomfortable as they are humiliating. To add insult to…well, another insult, you aren’t even wearing regular clothes under the dress as promised; they made it nearly impossible to get the damn thing on, and it was just too uncomfortable. You were allowed to keep your briefs, at least. Not that that makes you feel any better. Your dignity is strained, to put it lightly. 

You scratch at your arm rather aggressively, the itchy fabric of the tulle sleeves irritating the skin there. The entire dress is painfully cheap, and promises an unforgiving rash tomorrow morning. You instinctively reach to where your pocket would normally be to grab your phone, only to be utterly disappointed as the words of your friend echo in your head: 

“No modern technology! If he sees you tapping at your weird light box, he’ll freak out! All you have to do is go in, sweep the house, and report back to me.” 

Of course, your immediate response was to question why the ghost hunter wasn’t going in; surely the ‘expert’ isn’t scared? 

The only answer you got was a rather unceremonious shove towards the house. 

You’re in this alone. Great. 

You just hope the house doesn’t decide to collapse in on itself tonight. You don’t believe in ghosts, but the decrepit 20th century architecture and the harsh wind whistling through the broken windows are very real. It seems like the entire manor is trying to chase you out, like it’s angry that you’re here, loudly creaking and moaning with every shift or shake to talk you out of taking another step. No wonder this place has sparked so many ghost stories, it’s scary as shit! 

You stop in the middle of the foyer, taking a moment to drink in the scenery. 

The effects of the fire are obvious, even after all the years of atrophy; the core of the charred blackness lies upstairs, but its countless arms sprawl outwards, clawing at the walls in a desperate attempt to get free. From what you can see, it did not succeed, as the front most part of the house seems to be relatively untouched. 

Most of the house was gutted in an estate sale—what could be salvaged, anyways— but a couple of throne chairs and a matching ottoman still remain, now thoroughly gnawed through by all manner of creepy-crawlies. The entire downstairs is covered in a sticky blanket of spiderwebs, as if you needed more evidence of an infestation. Most of the curtains have been left untouched, except by time, though they do little to keep the house warm without any in tact windows. All of glass has been nearly completely shattered by either nature or vandals. You noticed a few graffiti tags and discarded beer cans outside, but the inside looks like it hasn’t had many people in it since the fire. The legends must keep them out. 

You look around as you try to discern where to go next. Directly in front of you is a large staircase leading to the upper level of the house, and behind it are a few doors that probably lead to a kitchen, a guest room and the like. On either side are long hallways that curl around, preventing you from seeing where they lead. The living area on your left, with the only remaining pieces of furniture, is enclosed on either side by grand bookcases that once held countless manuscripts and novels. The floor is still discolored from where the rug once laid. The grand chandelier of Damocles above your head sways a bit in the wind, and that makes you swallow nervously; you make the smart decision to move a few steps to the side just in case the diamond daggers come down. 

The question is: where do you start?

You could quite easily get turned around in here, especially in the endless hallways of the ground floor. You were given a brief glance at the floor plans, and there was no basement, only the two levels above and below the stairs. The best place to start would be upstairs, you decide— that way you can work your way back to the front door. 

Upon closer inspection, though, you realize that physically going up the stairs might be easier said than done, especially in these tacky pumps. Your eyes follow the steps from the bottom up, and each stair is only more burnt and broken than the last. You’ll have to navigate this with utmost caution. 

Your first step is shaky, but the wood doesn’t feel too unsteady. You’re careful not to stumble or let the heels of your shoes slip off the back of the stairs as you ascend, holding tightly to the rail. You only lift your hand at about halfway up, when you feel the gradually blackening wood starting to flake off and stick to your palm. The higher you climb, the darker it gets, all of the color of the upstairs completely consumed and overtaken by the fire. It’s like walking into Hell, the last vestiges of light fleeing from the sight as you finally reach the last step. 

You linger there for a moment, mouth hanging open just slightly as the reality of the tragedy sets in. Sure, you’d seen pictures, unable to push down the curiosity in the time before your little adventure, but this was…haunting. 

Someone actually died here. Holy shit. You’re staring into someone’s grave. 

You shudder as another breeze passes through, feeling much colder than before. You can only stare into the pitch black hallway for a moment before an irritated creak from the stairs urges you to quickly move off of them. 

Black dust swarms around your ankles as you step onto the upper floor. It seems even more untouched than the lower part of the house. The wind doesn’t come through as loudly here, and suddenly you realize how deathly quiet it got as you came up the stairs. You listen for a moment to see if you can pick up any sound from the outside, but there’s nothing. Not a sound, not a rustle, not a honk from the highway. You don’t even think the rats come up here. Spooky. 

You look to your left, down the hallway. Darkness. Complete darkness. The frail gleam of the moon is practically swallowed by the suffocating black. 

You look to your right, and see the same thing. You catch a brief glimpse of the dim light reflecting on something. 

You look back to the— 

Wait. 

You double take.  The fuck was that? 

You turn back to the right, now much more on guard. You squint into the shadows, sure that you saw something against the wall that barely hovered where you could see it. 

Nothing moves. 

Nothing is there. 

You sigh, rolling your eyes at your own stupidity. You’re letting those dumb stories get to you. You just need to get out of here before you catch a disease or fall through the floor and break an ankle. 

You decide to keep true, headed straight for the center hall and the master bedroom where it all began. You walk slowly, keeping an arm in front of you to feel for spiderwebs in the windowless hallway, but you encounter none. Come to think of it, you hadn’t seen any signs of pests since the stairs. Nothing worth eating up here, you guess. 

You can barely see the slight glint of the bedroom doorknob. It shifts and wavers just a bit as you bob with each step, eventually coming close enough to reach out and grab it. You prepare for the spikes of cold metal against your skin, but the sensation you feel is much different. 

The doorknob is warm. 

Not unbearably hot, no, but warm. Warmer than it has any right to be, enough to make you pull your hand back for a moment. 

You swallow hard. 

It must be because the wind doesn’t come through here, you rationalize; this hall has no windows, there’s rooms on both sides—it’s not as drafty as the rest of the house. That must be it. 

You grasp the knob again, turning it slowly…so as to not break it, of course. 

The door creaks open loud enough to make you wince, like you’re worried someone will hear and come bustling in to scold you for being up past your bedtime. The room looks rather well preserved, and it doesn’t start to sink in how odd  that is until you’ve already stepped inside, and then the door shuts behind you on its own. That startles you enough to crash your train of thought. 

You quickly spin around to look at the door, staring for a few moments to see if it’ll move. It stays still, the ornate wooden carvings looking back at you like sharp eyes, waiting to see if you, too, will make a move. 

The room is, for lack of a better term, dead. Any sound that tries to make its way in dies outside the walls, and even the particles floating in the air seem frozen, cursed to forever hover in the beams of moonlight. A ghostly glow is cast over everything, an ethereal blanket that makes the air feel heavy. You take a step further into the room, and it feels like walking on the ocean floor. You’re numb, yet you can feel your skin clinging to your bones. 

You really shouldn’t be here. 

Then, a flickering light in the corner of your eye catches your attention. It startles you, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, enough to make you jump as you turn to it. The glimmering brilliance blinds you for a moment, and you don’t realize what you’re looking at until your eyes focus again. 

On the bedside table, its illuminating aura casting quivering shadows on the walls, is a sterling silver candelabra holding tightly to three lit candlesticks. The engraved vines snake their way up its arms and around its base, almost as if trying to hold it still. It looks like a priceless antique, but it shines like it’s brand new. A moment ago the room was completely dark, and now it’s aglow with the white-blue candlelight. The flames swirl in your pupils, hypnotizing you with their unnatural hue as they dance like skilled ballerinas, flicking up into a perfect arabesque before relaxing into a soft adagio, beckoning you closer without you even realizing. 

You don’t see how close you’ve gotten until you’re nearly upon it. Your fingers twitch, nearly aching to reach out and hover over the fire. Without a conscious decision, your hand starts to lift, like moving through water. It floats just above the candles, and you feel no heat, nor do you see any smoke. It’s like a projection onto the air itself. 

You barely stop yourself from dipping a finger into the flames. You know logically that you’ll be burned—or at least, you should be—but the fire calls to you nonetheless. For just a moment, everything is different; you aren’t yourself. There’s a dark cloud forming in your mind, and then suddenly it dissipates at the startling sound of a voice behind you. 

You whip your head around so fast your neck nearly snaps. You squint into the darkness, still as a statue, expecting to see your friend standing there or perhaps even a fellow explorer whose curiosity got the better of them. You’re not even sure what the voice said, but it was certainly human…or, at least, something that’s quite good at sounding human. 

You see no one.

You’re just as alone as you were. 

You turn to face the room fully, but you move too fast. Your hand bumps the bedside table, knocking the candelabra off of it. You panic as you scramble to catch the candleholder, not even thinking about the possibility of burning your hands. You manage to reach out at the last second and get your palm beneath it, and you expect to feel the weight of the cool silver against your skin, but you never do. 

You watch with your own eyes as the candelabra phases right through your flesh. 

You think for a split second that perhaps you just missed, but there’s no clatter against the wood floor either. The candelabra disappears with as much ceremony as it first materialized, leaving only a few sapphire embers that jump from the wicks before fading away as well. The moon’s beams on your back is the only surviving light. 

You can feel the freezing of your blood as it crystallizes into solid ice, the unbearable sensation blooming in your stomach before snaking its way down your limbs. You want to scream, but you can only muster a gasp as you stumble backwards in shock. You trip over your own feet, falling back onto the bed. 

Your vision starts to fill with black spots as your mind struggles to wrap around what it just witnessed. You keep seeing that split second in time when you watched it go through you, that single moment where it was halfway through your solid form before it was gone. Unsure what else to do, you squeeze your eyes shut, trying desperately to calm yourself. 

You lay there for a few moments, unable to make yourself get up or move at all. All at once your mind is racing, yet you’re unable to think at all. You try to force yourself to calm down, to will your heart to quiet, but you can’t push the thought of the candelabra out of your mind. 

You’re not sure why, but you cover your face. Your entire body tenses for a brief moment before you finally break your barrier of panic. Slowly, but surely, you relax again. Your chest is still heaving, but you can finally form a semi-coherent thought. 

…What the hell just happened? 

You don’t have an answer for that. At least, not right now. 

That’s okay, you sure yourself. You’re fine. You need to just get out of here. You can lie and say you saw a shadowy figure or something. 

You pull your hands away from your face, blinking a few times as your eyes focus and adjust to the bright light. 

Hold on. 

The what? 

No, you’re really seeing that…?! 

Just above you is a hovering form, glowing in the darkness of the bedroom. For a second it only looks like a luminous cloud, but then the finer features become clear, coming into form like a time lapse of a painting. 

You notice the eyes first. They’re a brilliant blue, even more so than the rest of the body, like heavy gems being cradled by translucent clouds. You notice the hair next, long, silky and wavy, looking like it may have once been blond despite the blue tint, and floating as though in zero gravity. The nose is slender and straight, and the lips are devoid of warmth and slightly parted as if pleasantly surprised. The rest of the body is wrapped in a dark suit, accented with a light blue tie and a matching lily boutonnière with drooping petals. 

You put it together in an instant; the attire, the house, the fire… 

…The groom. 

Your throat goes dry as sandpaper. 

He’s smiling down at you a terrifying amount of genuine affection. He tilts his head just slightly, observing you as your mouth gapes and eyes widen in shock. You struggle for words, but only manage to choke out one thing: 

“Claude...?!”

His grin only widens when he hears his name from your lips. 

“Ohh, my love,” he sighs, his thickly accented voice echoing in the back of your head as if speaking directly into your mind, “I was wondering where you went…”

He reaches out to stroke your cheek, and it feels like cold fog on your skin. He’s trembling as much as you are. 

“You’ve returned, you’ve returned…” he mumbles like a chant. He leans in with both hands on the sides of your face, gently bumping his forehead against yours. The contact makes your entire body shiver, and you have to stop your teeth from chattering. You know you should say something, stop him, move away…but what can be done? 

You’re frozen. 

His hands on your face are starting to make your skin tingle, like pins and needles in your cheek. The sensation lingers when he finally pulls away, and you can’t stop yourself from rubbing the feeling away on your shoulder. 

There’s a beat of silence between you for a moment. He looks down at you, gentle smile never wavering despite the terror that’s surely on your face. He doesn’t seem to realize at all that you’re not happy to see him. Something in his eyes makes you feel like he’s looking through you, or perhaps not truly seeing you at all. 

You bristle when he moves lower, hollow hands grasping at your ankles before sliding upward, lifting the cheap layered skirt of the bride costume. The cold feeling creeping up your leg makes you yelp, and you instinctively kick at him. Your tacky heel slips off and falls to the floor with your foot still floating inside his abdomen. Oh god, it feels like stepping in refrigerated jello. 

Claude pauses. For a moment you’re worried you’ve angered him, that now you’ve invoked

the wrath of a restless spirit, but then he laughs. He laughs as though you’d simply told him something funny, and then his hands continue working their way up your legs. 

“Always so spirited,” Claude chuckles, hands now firmly on your thighs, “I always did love that about you, ma femme…” 

He leans over you, and you want to sink into the mattress as far as possible. Your legs tremble uselessly as they dangle over the edge of the bed, unable to make you run. 

“W-Wait, hold on—“ you stammer, but you choke on your words when he dips down to kiss your neck. Each little press of his lips is like a shock to your system. Normally, you wouldn’t be so sensitive, but the feeling is so foreign and overwhelming you can’t help but arch your back. His hands slide up and down your waist, skirt now bunched around your hips, and you can barely feel the cold through the costume. 

He either doesn’t hear you or doesn’t acknowledge your words. He keeps working his way down your neck, hands moving around to your back and fumbling with the zipper down the bodice of your dress. You don’t realize what’s happening before suddenly the costume is being pulled off your shoulders. 

“Wait, wait—!” you say again, with a bit more volume this time. This makes him stop, pulling away and looking at you with confusion, and maybe even a bit of hurt. 

“Darling, what’s the matter?” he asks, stroking your hair, “Are you nervous? Don’t be…” 

“N-No, you don’t understand…!” you insist, but the longer you look in his eyes, the less you want to fight him. 

“Can’t you tell? I-I’m not…you know…” 

You trail off, gesturing vaguely to yourself. Surely he can tell you’re not his Suzanne…? 

His eyebrows furrow. He’s clearly not understanding what you’re getting at, but then his eyes light up with a realization. 

“…Oh…I see…” he mumbles, looking away from you in thought. You finally relax, breathing a sigh of relief. Looks like you managed to get through to—

“Oh, darling, I don’t care if you’re not a virgin!” 

…What? 

You open your mouth to correct him, but no sound comes out. He kisses you, you think, but it’s so fast you only feel the slight coolness on your lips. 

“It doesn’t matter to me,” he continues, “you’re still my beautiful wife. No more delay, let me show you how much I love you.”

Before you can blink the costume has been pulled off of you. You’re left in only your boxers and one shoe, head spinning as you struggle to make any sense of the situation. 

How does he not see? You think, you don’t look anything like Suzanne, gender disparity aside…! 

No, wait…what was it they said in that old ghost movie? 

“Ghosts see what they want to see.” 

The sudden understanding barely breaks through as Claude dives into your neck again, the other side this time, mumbling and sighing against your skin in slurred French. 

There’s no reasoning with him, you realize, he wants you to be his wife. He needs you to be her. He’s been waiting here so long for her to return, he doesn’t even know he’s dead. 

Oh, god… 

His hands run up and down your bare chest, and the freezing touch makes your nipples harden. They trail lower, like cold water running down your body, pausing at the waistband of your boxers. He floats downward to nuzzle into your thigh, and the sight of him looking up at you with those big, blue eyes makes your stomach flip. 

“Oh, mon amour, won’t you let me…?” he asks, tugging at your boxers, “I simply can’t rest until I’ve had you…”

Can’t rest, he says…

Is that what he’s been waiting for all these years? 

They say ghosts only stick around if they have unfinished business, right? Is this…is this what he needs? 

You suck in a deep breath, unable to look away from his eyes. 

Well…if it might work, it’s worth a shot, right? You’re doing this for him, after all. 

At least that’s what you’ll tell yourself tomorrow morning. 

Fuck it. 

“Yes.”

The way his expression quite literally lights up makes your face go hot. 

He wastes no time, pulling off your boxers with utmost enthusiasm. The fall to the floor, immediately forgotten once he’s dropped them. You resist the urge to suck in a harsh breath as your half hard cock is exposed to the air. You’re already bracing yourself for the inevitable feeling of his cold touch. 

For the first time, you really see him pause. He’s staring down at your length, gears turning in his head but not working quite right, like he’s on the verge of snapping out of a trance. You gulp. If he’s found you out, you might be screwed. 

The silence stretches on for an almost awkward amount of time. 

Then, without warning, the love returns to his eyes, and a split second later his tongue comes out to lick a long stripe up your shaft. You nearly scream, barely managing to cover your mouth in time. Fuck, that’s cold! 

It’s clear that he’s not all that knowledgeable about what to do with a dick, but he’s giving it a hell of a try. He makes sure his tongue doesn’t neglect a single spot on your length, and he doesn’t miss the little squeal he gets when he flicks gently at the tip. He tries to take it in his mouth, but forcing your cock down his throat is clearly uncomfortable for him, even if he can’t choke on it. Nonetheless, he tries, rubbing at whatever he can’t fit in his mouth with his hand. He’s not afraid of moaning, either, and the vibrations it sends through you can never be replicated by any toy. 

You do your best to lay back and enjoy it despite the bizarre situation. You manage to clear your mind for only a moment before you feel two of his fingers brushing against your hole. You gasp, tensing on instinct. You can feel him smirk around your cock before he pulls off of it for a moment. 

“Ahh, there it is…” he says lowly before promptly busying his mouth once more. 

You bite down hard on your bottom lip as two of his fingers slip in, the cold instantly penetrating your core. This seems to be a skill he’s much more adept at; he’s far less hesitant, and far more graceful. He stretches you in just the right ways, exploring your waiting hole with a confidence that easily surpasses any of your past partners. His fingers slip in and move around so easily, without any struggle or pain. You’re almost upset you’ll never feel this again. 

Try as you might to be quiet, you can’t bite back the moan that crawls out of your throat when the pads of his fingers press against your prostate. He chuckles as best he can with your dick down his throat. He presses again, gentler this time, clearly enjoying the drawn out while it gets from you. 

It’s getting harder and harder to keep quiet as he hits all the right spots over and over again. He’s evidently a quick learner, too, as he’s already picked up on the best ways to use his tongue around your length. You can feel yourself twitching in his mouth. 

He slips in a third finger, and as it pushes in you nearly see stars. Tingly static crawls up your body like dye soaking into fabric, invading the deepest crevices of your nervous system. God, that’s good. 

You’re not sure how long it’s been when he finally pulls away, leaving you suddenly empty and far too warm for comfort. You’re too dizzy to question what’s going on when he flips you onto your stomach, but you don’t have to ask questions. You shudder as he leans over you, his chest against your back, engulfing your body with an icy sensation. 

“Oh, ma belle femme, how lucky I am to have you,” he whispers in your ear, voice choked and shaky, “I can feel you trembling underneath me. Just sit still, my darling…” 

You can hear him rustling with his clothes behind you, but don’t bother to look back. Your cock is practically begging for more of his touch. 

After a moment he leans over you again, this time laying his hands over yours. He feels nearly weightless, like a cloud resting on top of you. 

“Je peux enfin t’emmener…”

You don’t have a second to process his words before suddenly he’s pushing into you. You don’t bother trying to hide your voice, and neither does he, droning on and whispering sweet nothings you can barely understand as your mind is completely melted by the feeling of the penetration. 

You nearly collapse against the mattress, but he manages to catch your hips just in time. You claw at the sheets as he fills you to the base, and the blankets do little to muffle your cries. For a brief moment you wonder if anyone outside could hear you, but that worry is quickly pushed aside when you feel him pulling back. You dig your nails into your palm so hard you’re sure it’ll leave marks as you prepare for what’s about to come. 

The first thrust feels like it might break your mind. The head of his pale cock butts hard against your prostate, making you shriek like you never thought you could. You nearly tear a hole in the bedsheets with your desperate attempt

to find some sort of relief, and yet you don’t want any at all. Your body might be shaking like a leaf in a hurricane, but against all logic, your mind is screaming more, more, more!

“C-Claude—!” you yelp as he slams into you once more. 

“Suzanne!” he echoes in turn, ecstasy dripping from his voice, “Suzanne, my love, how I’ve waited for this…!”

He returns to kissing your neck, though much messier than before. He just needs to taste you, sucking and nipping and licking any spare bit of skin he can get to. If he feels so cold, you must feel so warm. 

He’s trying to be gentle, to go easy on you, but he’s struggling. You can feel him forcing himself to go slower. You need to encourage him. 

“Oh, Claude,” you moan, putting on the girliest voice you can muster, “faster! Faster, my love, please, give me more!” 

He’s more than happy to comply, and after a brief adjustment of his hold on you his pace increases tenfold. He’s grunting and huffing like an animal—and you’re underneath him, moaning and whimpering like a girl. 

“Suzanne, my darling, we’re going to do it,” he says suddenly, and you have no idea what he means. He pulls you in closer, pressing you against his chest more firmly. 

“We’re going to do it,” he repeats, “we’re going to have our family…I want to— no, I need to give you my child.” 

The sound that comes out of you is humiliating. 

You’ve never wanted anything more than for him to cum inside of you in this moment. 

“Yes,” you reply without thinking, “yes, yes!” 

He only thrusts into you faster, fueled completely by your mutual desire. Both of his hands are on your hips now, holding tightly and pulling you back against him as he pushes in. The bed is rocking so hard it feels like it might collapse underneath you. Even if it did, neither of you would even consider stopping, not for a second. 

He’s starting to lose his rhythm, you realize. He’s just as sensitive as you are. He wants this just as much, if not more. You can’t even string together a coherent sentence to beg for it, all you can do is let the string of pleasured noises fall from your lips, only occasionally managing to say his name. He chants back ‘Suzanne’ like it’s the only word he knows; it’s the only one that matters to him, at least. 

You jump when he wraps a hand around your cock, pumping it quickly with little to no consistent pattern. He’s practically milking it, rubbing fast and hard and doing everything in his power to push you to your peak. 

“Cum for me, my love,” he huffs, “let me feel you cum around my cock…won’t you give me the privilege?” 

“Of course, my darling,” you reply. How could you say no? 

Your orgasm starts to build faster than you’re ready for. You can barely choke out an understandable warning before your cock twitches and spills its load, spurting into his hand and certainly dirtying the bedding underneath you. He buries his face in your neck as your hole squeezes him deliciously, making him cry out at the feeling. 

“Yes, my love— Oh god, yes!” he almost sobs. He’s completely lost his rhythm now, just rutting into you like a feral dog in heat as he chases his own high. 

He gives one last cry of his bride’s name before suddenly he stills, and his cock spills into you. You’re not sure what it feels like—you don’t think any human experience could ever compare—but it’s certainly not unpleasant. It’s not the warm, sticky feeling dripping down your thighs, at least. 

You nearly black out for a moment, your head spinning like a top with no relief in sight. Darkness is quickly clouding your vision as you come down from your intense high, and you barely register the gentle kiss Claude presses to your cheek before the cold feeling against your back is gone. You close your eyes then, unable to keep them open any longer. 

You’re not sure how long it’s been when you awake again. Logically, it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, but you feel like you’ve been asleep for years. You slowly move to sit up, and instantly you’re made painfully aware of the soreness in your legs and lower back. You groan, forcing yourself to move to sit on the edge of the bed. 

You’re still very naked, that’s for sure. You look down between your legs, and grimace at the sight of the luminescent ectoplasm glowing in the dim light as it drips from your thighs and ass. 

The thing that really stands out, though, is the state of the room. Whatever you saw before must’ve been some sort of ghostly illusion; now you’re surrounded by nothing but charred black, sticking to your legs and palms and floating about in the air in flaky little bits. 

Yuck. 

You sigh as you will yourself to get up, not enjoying the feeling of your one bare foot on the dusty wood floor. You can barely walk far enough to retrieve the costume dress, let alone bend down and pick it up, but by some divine intelligence you manage. 

After redressing to the best of your ability, you limp back downstairs—talk about a walk of shame. Although, despite your embarrassment, you do note that the house feels…emptier. Lighter. It’s nice. 

You don’t have an excuse for why you’re so disheveled, or why you’re walking so weirdly, or why you’re so sweaty. You don’t care. You’re going to walk out that door, get your last half of the payment, and go home and get a good night’s sleep knowing that, in some impossibly strange way, you did a good thing. 

The one thing you will never admit, though, is that you were very wrong: 

Ghosts are real. 

And you have the wet dream to prove it. 

If you liked this fic, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out. 

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated.

[jdjosworld]

[ograceo]

I hate it when people draw oversexualized versions of characters. They always give the characters massive boobs and butts and tiny waist and make them into femme fatales or manic pixie dreams girls or some other version of a male gaze character. I feel like I never see characters or ocs that have normal bodies. Except for the female lead from Operation True Love but a lot of people hate her character beacuse she is plain looking and Tohru honda her too. They dont like normal female characters that they cant jack off too. Its crazy!

[iceman-soup]

amab top!reader x bot!gaz x top!soap

putting Gaz in a crop top because you thought it would be funny but turns out he looks amazing in it and now you're hard :(

then looking over at Soap and he's just staring, boner all too visible through his jeans :(

So of course you take them both into your room, telling them to undress and get on the bed as you do the same. Crop top stays on.

Fucking Gaz with two fingers, the other hand slipped under the top to feel his pecs, whilst MacTavish praises him every time he makes even an uttered sound, sucking hickeys into his neck and pumping both their dicks.

Kyle's cock twitches and cum paints his stomach, earning soft groans from all three of you. Feeling that he's stretched a good amount, you line yourself up with his entrance, making sure there's enough lube to be comfortable.

"You ready, princess?" you press a small kiss to his clothed chest. Gaz nods. "Good boy."

He spreads his legs wider as you push into him, not sure what to do with his hands. Soap takes his wrists and pins them above his head, breathing heavy as he cums over the crop top. "Fuckin' stained now," he grunts, glancing over at you.

"Could try washing it?" you suggest, maintaining the eye contact as you rock your hips rhythmically into the man under you.

Soap hums, studying the clothing quickly soaking up the cum. "Probably won't get it all out, though."

"Make him wear it around anyway. Show it off," you grin; Kyle whines at the lack of direct attention. "Shut up, Garrick. We're talking."

[daisywords]

thinking about this post but also it's more than that. do you ever think about how stories starring men are allowed to be about humanity but stories starring women have to be about Womanhood

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Hellbound Angel

Male Yandere Demon x Male Angel Reader (CW: Noncon, drugged reader, drugged sex, drug-like cum, drug-like saliva, big ol' horse cock, literally equine dick, belly bulge, armpit kink, scent kink, musk, underwear sniffing, kidnapping, general yandere behavior, temporarily mind-broken reader, religious themes, dehydration, forced feminization, reader has minor injuries not inflicted by yandere) Word Count: 2.2k

In the never-ending war against the legions of Hell, the middle ground where most of the fighting was done was on Earth. However, the heavenly forces sometimes deemed an incursion into Hell necessary.

You had been sent on a mission to scout ahead and take note of the coming forces.

Angels were stronger than most demons. Even so, almost your entire squad had been wiped out in a bloody ambush. The other survivors had used the one holy recall scroll to teleport themselves back to heaven.

Each squad sent into Hell is given one and only one. They probably thought you were dead already when they left still with demons in pursuit. They had to act quickly. You didn't blame them. Without it, you were trapped here. Unless you could find a demon's gate that could take you to Earth. That's how the demons made it out. But there would certainly be legions of the enemy at such places.

You had managed to escape the slaughter of your scouting party, but you were injured. Your wings had been hurt as had your leg. Relatively minor injuries, but in a hostile land, they certainly made things more difficult.

To be honest, you weren't exactly the strongest angel on a good day. This was not a good day.

You limped along the rocky landscape, using your holy staff as a walking stick. You stayed low to remain unseen by any wandering beasts or demons as you made your way out of the fiery wastelands and into the white sand desert. Hell wasn't all fire and brimstone. It was the most popular depiction of Hell's most dramatic landscape, but there were other biomes, too. Now you were getting into one of the many deserts Hell had to offer.

It was cooler than the burning wastes, but by no means was it comfortable. Water and food were scarce, the white sands were nearly blinding, and the swirling black sky was a constant ominous reminder that you were not safe.

You could go a long time without food and water. You wouldn't die without them, but after a while, you would wither up and be unable to move. You'd go into a kind of stasis. And then you'd be defenseless.

For days, you wandered. At least... you thought it was days. Despite the perpetually black sky the sun never set. Your lips were chapped, your wounds aching, hope dying in your heart. You had to find an oasis to rest at. Build up your strength. From the limited maps you had seen of this region of Hell there should be one at the heart of this desert, but with your wings and legs messed up it would still take many days still to reach it.

There were several more days of endless marching, hobbling on your injured leg that was getting harder and harder to walk on before you finally saw the oasis in the distance. You tried your best to approach stealthily, going behind dunes and sand drifts whenever possible, and wrapping your white wings around you to provide some measure of camouflage with the white sands. As you got near, it disappeared in a puff of smoke. And out of the smoke stood a demon. It was a trap.

Dark brownish red skin, sharp horns, a tail flicking back and forth, and he stood at least a foot taller than you. He was very muscular, his sweat coated abs glistened in the sunlight. He wore nothing. His long horse-like cock and big nuts swinging freely below a thick patch of black pubic hair.

You caught yourself accidentally staring and looked away quickly before readying your divine staff for a fight. Which was really hard, since you could barely stand without it.

The demon winked and chuckled.

"Do you like it~ There's no harm in just looking, you know?"

He closed the distance between the two of you in a flash and knocked the staff away in one fluid motion.

"As a matter of fact, you can do a lot more than look, little bird. My cum would make you feel so much better~ That oasis you're looking for is still miles away."

"Uh, thanks for the kind offer, but I think I will pass. I'll just be on my way and out of your hair."

You stepped back slowly, hoping to make it to your staff so you could maybe limp away and give him a good smack if he followed. But he wasn't giving you the chance.

"Oh, but you're dehydrated!"

He took a few steps forward until there were mere inches between you. He put a hand on your cheek and thumbed at your chapped lips gently.

"Your lips are all dry. Let me help~"

Before you could decline, he held your head in place and leaned down. He traced and prodded your sore lips with his long slick tongue.

You tried to push him away but couldn't do much in your current condition. And the saliva was having some kind of effect on you.

He slipped his tongue past your lips and kissed you greedily.

Your head grew fuzzy and your legs weak. His spit was some type of drug. It felt... nice...

You resisted it as long as you could, even resorting to biting his tongue, but he ignored it and continued. Moments later, you slumped against him, your head on his muscular chest. The only thought in your head as you passed out was how nice this man in front of you smelled.

He picked you up gently and carried you bridal style. It was fitting since you were certainly his little bride now, as far as he was concerned. He placed a chaste kiss on the top of your head and then started walking towards the underground dwelling he called home.

When you woke up, your wounds had been healed, and you felt a lot better. Though you were still dizzy. There was an intoxicating smell all around you and you didn't recognize your surroundings.

Your first instinct was to jump up and flee, but you were immediately pulled back down and placed in the lap of your demonic captor. His monstrous cock poking out between your thighs.

You looked down and realized you were naked, your soft cock and balls laying on his unnaturally warm prick.

"Let me go!" You elbowed him as hard as you could but he must have made sure you stayed drugged because you couldn't muster up any strength to put into your struggle.

"Let you go? After all the trouble I have gone through to romance you?"

"Romance!? You kidnapped me and I don't even know who the fuck you are, creep!!"

You struggled with renewed anger, smacking your head backwards, elbowing, kicking, and scratching. All amounting to you gasping for breath, tired, while he chuckled at the attempt.

"You're in Hell! I could have raped you and left you in the sand to be killed by any passing monster and that still would have been considered romance."

He placed his large hands on your legs with his thumbs drawing lazy circles on your thighs.

"I saved you from the desert, treated your wounds, let you rest for days, fed you, gave you water, and bathed you. That is damn romantic!"

He started assaulting your neck with little licks and kisses, enjoying how you squirmed in protest while sitting on his equine cock.

"As for the name that you'll be moaning when I bury myself in you, it's Tevrik."

"My friends will come back for me. You should save yourself the trouble and let me go now!"

This was a bluff, of course. They almost certainly thought you were dead. You didn't know if your deception would work, but you didn't expect him to respond with a cackle.

"No, they won't! Rathiel won't let em!"

A shudder went through you at the mention of your boss who had ordered the mission into Hell.

"He's one of Hell's best agents. Gives us lots of intel."

You were dumbfounded and fell silent a moment before regaining your composure and replying angrily.

"Lies from a worthless demon!"

"I'd never lie to you, sweetie~"

He trailed his hands up and down your thighs as he continued.

"How else did we set up that ambush? Rathiel sent you to us. We needed more angel blood. But not yours."

Your blood ran cold as he began grinding into you.

"I picked you out from a bunch of employee profiles just to be my little princess. I'm half angel myself and wanted an angel bride~ We'll rule this region of Hell together!"

He repositioned you on his lap to face towards him as his flared cock grew fully erect.

"You weren't supposed to be hurt in the battle. I'm so sorry about that. I killed the demons who did it."

You didn't even struggle when he positioned you above his dick, hot precum smearing your hole as his cock pressed against it. The betrayal drained the fight from you.

"After the battle, I just followed you for a bit, so you'd be tired. And now here you are. With me."

The precum and smell of his arousal were making you dizzier. The words he spoke brought tears from your eyes.

"Awe, don't cry. After we have some alone time to adjust, I'll take you to the palace~ You'll be royalty!"

You winced as his cock entered you, expecting pain. Surprisingly, there was none. Instead it was like every cell in your body was filled with pleasure.

This couldn't be right. You had to escape. Sex with a demon was a very taboo thing.

You started struggling but Tevrik held you still.

"Shhh, I know you're upset. But just let it happen, okay? I'll make you feel so good."

As his precum continued to dribble out of his dick and into you and as the betrayal by your trusted higher up sank in you once more lost the will to fight.

Why were you fighting anyway? This cock felt so nice. And he was so kind and romantic to go through all this trouble to get you away from your evil boss right?

You relaxed and lay against his chest as he pumped into you slowly. You looked up at him and realized he had your underwear in his hand and was holding it up to his nose sniffing the crotch.

"You smell so good, girly. So good. You feel good too."

"You smell nice too!" Then your brain caught up with the rest of what he had said.

"A-and I'm not a g-girl." Too focused on your pleasure to really care.

"Nah, you're too pretty to be a man. Too weak too. Plus you have this tight little cunt hugging my dick. You're definitely a girly~"

"O-okay."

You blushed because he called you pretty. You supposed he made a lot of sense. You were clearly a girl. You wondered why you didn't know that sooner. It felt right.

He chuckled warmly as you drooled on his chest and made cute little gasps and moans. He couldn't wait until you were moaning his name.

Tevrik didn't pound you, he didn't want to hurt his sweet baby bird. Instead he just rocked his hips into you and enjoyed the effect it had on you.

After you started making those delicious noises his demonic precum began to make you super cuddly. He continued to breed your tight hole while you started nuzzling him and leaving gentle kisses on his chest. He began grinding into you a bit faster and more forcefully, his cock clearly outlined through your belly as it nestled into you as deeply as he could get it.

"Fuck babe, I'm about to bust."

But you came before he did it. Your cock spilling silvery angelic seed on his belly as you called his name and clung to him tightly. The combined sight of you cumming while impaled by his dick while at the same time calling his name just like you promised he would sent Tevrik over the edge. His large balls filled your tummy with hot demon cum. It made you feel warm and fluttery and loved. Like you could feel his emotions through his seed.

You were so tired from all the emotion and sex that you passed out on top of him, nuzzling your nose into the comforting scent of his armpit as you clung to him.

Tevrik smiled. You were just so precious. Sadly, he knew you'd regress back into struggling against him. But that was okay. He would keep reminding you how the angels threw you away and keep breeding you full of his drug-like semen. Soon you'd crave it. He'd bed you constantly until you needed it. And then breed you as much as you wanted him to after that.

Yeah, it would take a while. But he had all the time in the universe.

Tevrik sighed with content and closed his eyes, taking your underwear and putting it back up to his nose while he relaxed with his cock still deep inside you.

You may have been in Hell, but Tevrik was in Heaven.

[kitoshii]

Omg i just love your first fan fic definitely needs a part 2 maybe where bunny reader finds out that they actually got pregnant with mr.wolf and reader is just so confused but he decides to tell mr.wolf the news and mr.wolf is just watching t.v when bunny reader comes in and wolf is just so horny that he drags bunny reader to their room and do the cha-cha but this is just an idea write you're fan fiction how you want to write it

hellooo nonnie ! so your request did help me decide on a part two, but i changed some things ‘nd cut the pregnancy part, i really hope you don’ mind ! | pt 1 here

whos ? subbot ! bunny hybrid ! male ! reader x domtop ! wolf hybrid ! male ! character

lovin ? heavy orgasm denial , predator / prey themes , hair pulling , breeding , size kink , marking , overstim , full nelson , feminization , readers dick referred to as a clit

stretching your arms over your head as you lean back in your plush gaming chair, a soft pop echoes from your wrist. the sound makes you shake your ears, before standing up and closing your laptop carefully.

tugging your shorts down your legs, the soft click and thump of the front door had your ears twitching in attention, a little smile gracing your face as you assumed it was your mother coming home.

you opened your door, quickly flitting down the stairs with your moms name at the top of your tongue, before skidding to a stop, your socks slipping on the slick wooden floor, falling on your butt at the last stair. a loud squeak escaped your mouth, and your hands flung out, attempting to grasp onto the tight shirt of the tall wolf in front of you.

your hands retracted as quick as they had come, delicate fingers clasped against your chest. there was a moment of silence before your wide eyes nervously looked up, only to find him already staring down his nose at you with narrowed eyes. to your fear ridden mind, it seemed like they were glowing with a predatory urge and your breath hitched, suddenly reminded that you were in fact a prey animal.

a smirk spread across his lips, his eyes narrowing further for just a second before turning to his father, who peered around him curiously.

“he slipped.” he muttered, watching as the older wolf nodded, a concerned look on his face before walking to join your mother in the kitchen.

your eyes were still locked onto his frame, and when his met yours again you flinched, realizing you were still on the ground. shaky legs planted themselves on the ground, your arms attempting to push yourself up before a large hand was tucked under your arm, pulling you to your feet. you stumbled forward into his chest, face planted there until his other hand carded through your hair, tugging your head back to look up at him.

“you’re clumsy, cottontail.”

you almost whimpered at his actions, closing your thighs together without thinking, trembling hands coming up and grabbing onto his shirt. your eye contact only faltered for just a second when he glanced down, a cocky - and slightly predatory - smirk one again gracing his face. he tugged on your hair harder, leaning down so his lips were next to your ear.

“run, little bunny.” he whispered, his words accentuated by a deep, quiet growling that seemed to come from the back of his throat. his grip on you faltered and you were still for a moment, before you stepped back, foot slipping on the steps, and suddenly you were scrambling up the stairs, reaching your room ‘nd slamming the door behind you.

“what was that?” your mother called, peeking out from behind the wall to the kitchen, making eye contact with the younger wolf.

“it’s nothing.” he smiled, waving his hand ‘nd walking to the living room to sit on the couch, leaning back ‘nd manspreading his legs with the remote to the t.v in hand as if nothing had happened.

his father and your mother passed by the couch, his hair being ruffled by the small woman. “your dad and i want to go out for a bit, is that alright with you ?” she asked sweetly, leaning over the armrest of the couch, his father playing with her bent ears idly.

“thats fine,” he grunted, sitting up from his slouched position. “how long will y’ be gone?”

“don’t know yet. we’ll text Y/N when we’re on the way home, kay?” the youngest nodded in acknowledgment, and his father patted his head before they were on their way, the front door shutting behind them with a soft click.

you came walking down the stairs not long after, your steps slow and tentative. you noted the lack of shoes by the front door, coming to the quick conclusion that the adults had left - and you had half a mind to go back up to your room and not come out, but you had caught his eyes quickly and now his attention was on you.

offering him a nervous smile, you kept your head down and walked quickly to the far side of the couch, sitting down and focusing on the television. a short chuckle left his mouth as he took quick notice of something.

“what happened to the pretty pink shorts you were wearing earlier?” he asks, his eyes still trained on the tv in front of him, and you could only look down, embarrassed, because you had in fact changed your shorts to some plain black ones after soiling the others - but theres no way you could tell him that.

“.. they were too small for me.” you mumbled after a few moments, and he looked over to you, his eyes trailing down to your thighs and back to your face with an eyebrow raise and you realize how stupid that excuse was because these shorts are also tight - hugging your dick and squeezing your thighs.

your face flared in red, crossing your legs and tugging your sweater down.

“let me ask you again, doll,” he started, reaching out and tugging you towards him by your waist, his body moving so he was facing you, one knee resting on the couch. “why’d you change your shorts?”

you stared at your hands that were on your lap, holding your sweater down over half of your thighs.

“i… i told you..” you stumbled over your words, breath hitching when you felt his hand tighten around your waist. you only heard him grunt before you were stumbling on your feet, a harsh grip around your wrist.

your back hit the mattress, his large hands pulling you towards him roughly, plush thighs resting over his muscular ones. a whimper from you made his fluffy ears twitch, sharp eyes narrowing as he ran his big hands over your thighs, reveling in the way your body jerked.

your soft ears perked up as he began to talk, his deep ‘nd demanding voice sounding ominous to your muddled mind.

“now, i can either….” he started, big hands running under your sweater ‘nd across your stomach, “abuse your poor little clit,” he continued with a chuckle, squeezing your small cock to accentuate his words, making your back arch, “nd use you for my own pleasure without lettin’ you cum once,” he pushed up your sweater, flicking your nipple harshly, “or you can tell me the real answer, ‘nd i’ll fuck you like a good boy deserves to be fucked.”

you panted harshly, closing your eyes tight and gritting your teeth, your knuckles turning white as your small hands fisted the sheets under you.

“i- i… i fuckin- told you!” you gasped out, shaking your head as he flicked your dick with a sigh.

“well, i did warn you.”

“h-hnghh !” you squealed, voice muffled as your head was pressed into the mattress by his strong hands, struggling to breathe between your heavy breaths and lack of space.

he’d been fucking you for a while now, harsh teeth marks clear around your nipples, on your neck, and even your arms. you felt completely ruined, your hard, leaky, and red cock bouncing underneath you with every thrust, the hairtie around the base of it stopping you from cumming throughout this whole session, although you’re sure you’re multiple dry orgasms in.

his big cock presses against your prostate unrelentingly, strong arms pressing into you at different areas as he holds his weight against you, his thrusts so harsh ‘nd so fast you can barely tell apart his thrusts in and slides out of your poor, ruined hole.

a loud sob is ripped from you when his hand that was holding your head down is suddenly wrapped around your cock, his finger teasing the tip.

“you wanna cum, bunny?” he asks with faux sympathy, teasing the area around the hairtie, his cock still fucking into you with no mercy.

“y-yes! g-gna cum ! cum - please!” you squeak, your legs kicking up from the bed, feeling your gut twist once again with the painful need to release, your body convulsing under his as he only grins with pride.

“that’s too bad, isn’t it?” he practically coos in your ear, his voice lust filled, condescending, and predatory. theres a grunt from behind you and suddenly you’re being lifted, your chest to his back, legs slipped from under you, his muscular arms holding them in the crook of his elbows, and he wastes no time in pummeling back into your ruined hole in that position, cock kissing places you didn’t even think existed inside of you.

you feel like the breath is knocked from your lungs and you attempt to scratch at his arms because your small cock is so fucking ruined, ‘s pathetically leaking precum like a faucet, bouncing against your stomach as it loses some of it’s hardness - simply because the dry orgasms have taken so much out of you.

“look at that.. little clit’s showin’ me just how useless it really is.” he growls, biting deep into the marked skin of your neck afterwards, his swollen knot pressing against your puffy hole as his dick twitches inside of you, his head spinning and overwhelmed with the need to bulge your belly with his puppies.

“shit, bunny.. got me cummin’ so soon.” he huffs, a sloppy grin on his face as his hips never falter , even with how daringly close he is to teetering over the edge ‘nd filling your hole up.

his head shakes, ears twitching as his breathing picks up heavily, trying to center his mind, as it runs to fucking you until you pass out, using your pretty holes till youre filled with his cum and covered in his scent - his strong arms and hands increasing the grip he had on your legs.

he adjusts his arms so your legs are practically touching your ears, his hand coming up to shove large fingers in your mouth, his own baring his fangs into your shoulder - thrusting deep ‘nd hard into your little cunt, filling your stomach with his cum.

a loud wail is muffled against his digits, sobs wracking your chest as you convulse so harshly you’re practically pushed out of his arms, your head shaking back and forth.

“shit..” he mumbles, barking out a laugh. “forgot you had that on.” theres a large grin on his face as he sets your legs down, turning you onto your back. his hands work at untying the hairtie from your dick - rutting back into your hole with a few deep, rough thrusts once it’s off, bathing in the scream you release.

“y’said you wanted to cum, yeah?”

ahhh, i did it ! y’guys proud of me? ૮꒰ˊᗜˋ ꒱ა

[ak319]

Lovesick Village Boy x Fem civil servant reader

Part III

➺ Part I Part II

Habib's eyes widened when he saw you approaching the shop, though it didn't surprise him as much anymore. This was the third day you had come, each time asking for cigarettes, always receiving the same answer. Yet, you were relentless. It stirred something within him, feelings he hadn't realized he was capable of. Were you doing this for fun? For your own amusement? The subtle, smug look on your face seemed to confirm his suspicions.

It was the reason he petulantly huffed every night, hugging his pillow, trying to banish thoughts of you. But it was too late. You were already ingrained in his mind from the very first time he saw you. After so long spent away from the world, he was now facing the most dangerous temptation—love. A feeling he had convinced himself he'd never experience. Yet it irked him how unaffected you appeared, how you seemed to delight in the quiet misery he tried to conceal behind his mask.

He wanted to take it off for you... but fear held him back. Still, your eyes, always respectful and free of envy or lust, made the urge burn stronger. No, he couldn't. Someone might see him. Someone might see both of you. The village thrived on rumours, and for Habib, that meant more than whispers—it meant helplessness. Thank God you had the sense to come when the shop was mostly empty, always choosing the early or late hours.

"I can't," he whispered, the same routine, always.

"Not even today?"

"No. Not any day."

"Very well." With a tip of your hat, you exited the shop, and Habib had to summon every ounce of self-control to attend to the next customer.

The next day came, and once again, Habib, alongside his father, busied himself with running the store, responding to the curious questions of those who were surprised to see him out of the house, working. "Why is your face covered?" Of course, they wanted to know. His ears caught the sound of his father speaking with the supplier outside, and slowly, Habib approached the entrance, peeking at the scene.

"What do you mean? You can't just leave out an item from the list and say that--"

"Look, Mr. Kadir, it was an order from the higher office, alright? I have more deliveries to make. I'll see you soon." His father shook his head as the truck drove off.

"What was that about, Papa?"

"Nothing serious. Apparently, there's a cigarette shortage or something, and he couldn’t deliver them today. Some order from above? I don’t know what’s wrong with the man, honestly. We might need to find a new supplier if this keeps up!" His father's grumbles continued as he walked back into the shop, leaving Habib to ponder the matter.

Cigarettes? Higher office?

═════ ◈ ═════

"Did... did you do that?" Habib didn’t know where he found the courage, but he needed to ask you.

"Yes, I did. I ordered that no cigarettes be supplied to this store."

"Why?" Habib’s eyes widened in shock as you suddenly reached across the counter and grabbed his hand, pulling him closer. The counter between you was the only thing keeping this exchange from turning into scandalous gossip. But you didn’t seem to care about reputation, and to his surprise, he couldn’t even muster anger. The hand he raised to push you away faltered the moment it touched yours, going limp at the contact. With what little strength remained, he managed to croak out a protest, though it fell on deaf ears.

"I wanted you to know... I don’t come here for them. I come here for you." His entire body shivered, and he had to pause, catching his breath. The idea that he could be a source of your longing sent a thrill through him igniting a spark of possessiveness that warmed his heart.

"Please..."

"Please, what?" Your voice held a teasing edge, a playful challenge hanging in the air as you leaned in ever so slightly. Habib, shy and modest, turned his head away, but you could see the soft flush creeping along his neck.

Don't ever stop coming here. Don't leave my hand. Never. "Someone... someone might see us, and... it could damage your reputation."

"You think I care about that?" You smirked, releasing his hand slowly, letting your fingers linger a moment longer than necessary before slipping them into your pockets. "But, if you say so..." You turned, a smile teasing your lips. "Well, I got my answer then."

"Wait!"

"Hm?" You glanced back over your shoulder.

"I-I didn’t mean--"

"You said something?" His shy glare, so timid and sweet, almost made you laugh. His attempts at anger were always endearing. "Do you want me to still come here?" You asked, voice dipping lower, teasing yet again.

He nodded, his back still turned, his modesty winning out as he tried to hide the blush creeping up his cheeks. You could almost picture him pouting as he pressed his face against the wall, trying and failing to escape your gaze.

You walked back to the counter, drawing closer, making him nearly turn again--but he resisted, melting further against the wall, as if he could disappear into it.

"Then pray tell, why should I keep coming here? It seems the one I come for doesn't appreciate my presence. Oh, such a cruel fate I have been bestowed with," you teased, your voice dripping with mock sorrow.

"I—that’s not true! I... I do!" Habib stammered, his words barely audible, but the sincerity in them made your smirk grow.

"Fine, my Golrez (rose)," you said, your teasing tone softening. "But for now, I have to leave."

He nearly winced at the swift shift in your voice from gentle to professional. "Wait—t-take this!" He hurriedly placed a small snack on the counter before turning away, avoiding your gaze.

"I swear, you hide from me as if I’m a monster or something." Your tone was light, but your words struck deep as his ears burned red with embarrassment.

"Well... not my fault you... you..." His words tumbled out as he tried to muster a response, but his shyness betrayed him.

"I what?" You tilted your head, clearly enjoying how easily he flustered.

"Just go!" he huffed, puffed up with embarrassment and frustration.

It was such a fun game, teasing him like this, watching him turn red and die a little of shyness. With a last chuckle, you turned and made your way out to the awaiting car, leaving him with a mix of relief and painful longing.

As you drove away, Habib knew he would spend the rest of the night replaying this moment, already dreading the memories that would haunt him in his dreams, pulling him further into this inescapable feeling.

═════ ◈ ═════

The book in Habib's hand nearly slipped when a familiar voice sang out from behind the veranda's pillar.

"My dearest Uncle~~"

"Hi..." Habib muttered, not bothering to hide the mild annoyance in his tone.

"Hi, indeed." Rahim flopped beside him on the ground, leaning comfortably against the cushion with an uncharacteristically smug expression that immediately stirred Habib’s curiosity. "So, ahem, I heard a certain someone has been visiting your shop quite frequently..."

"N-no! Nobody is." Habib stammered, quickly standing to leave.

Rahim blinked, feigning surprise, but the mischievous glint in his eyes didn’t waver. "Alright, Uncle. I'll just go meet the DC myself, then. Perhaps I’ll even get a picture with her... I must prepare for this important meeting."

Habib froze, his heart racing at the thought. Before Rahim could take another breath, Habib’s hand shot out, gently yet firmly gripping his arm.

Rahim's smirk widened. He had him now. "Oh, I see... someone does care, after all."

"Um—what do you mean...? What meeting?" Habib’s voice faltered, trying to play it off, but Rahim caught every shift in his expression.

"Oh, nothing," Rahim said, turning with a shrug as though it were the most casual thing in the world. "Just the DC coming to visit our school tomorrow."

"O-oh. Hm." Habib’s attempt to sound indifferent was failing miserably.

"I thought if you admitted it, I’d convey a message for you... but it's fine. I think I misheard about her coming to our store. Could’ve been someone else, right?"

Before Rahim could fully turn away, Habib tugged him back and flicked him on the forehead.

"You seem to know everything, don’t you?" Habib’s voice held a mix of exasperation and embarrassment.

"Uncle! OW!" Rahim yelped, rubbing his forehead dramatically. "Here I am, trying to be your loyal supporter, and you insult me! Not fair!"

With a huff, Habib dragged Rahim into the back alley of their house, whisper-yelling. "You can’t just go around talking about these things, Rahim! Someone might hear you!"

"Oh really?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Habib protested, trying to feign innocence.

"Oh, you know very well." Rahim smirked, leaning closer. "You think I can't piece it together? You've been in a daze all week, and I saw her leaving the shop the other day! Look at you, you're red!"

"S-so!?" Habib stammered, trying to deflect.

Rahim’s grin widened. "You're in love, aren't you?~~"

"Rahim!" Habib sighed, his resolve weakening. "Fine! I... I do like her." He quickly covered Rahim’s mouth to muffle his loud exclamation. "Are you mad?! What if someone hears? Especially brother Basim!"

"Oh, please. Dad's not home, and it's about time you settled down. Imagine—married to the DC, living in a bungalow, riding in lavish cars, with bodyguards—

"Rahim! You think I desire her wealth? Is that what you think of me?" Habib's voice rose slightly, and he could see the gleam in the boy's eyes fade as he sensed the seriousness of his uncle's tone.

"N-no, I just--Uncle, I just want to see you happy...living your life with her...away from here.." Rahim replied, his enthusiasm dimming. Habib sighed, feeling a pang of sympathy for his defeated face.

"Rahim... I'm just so... afraid of all this. And... how can I even trust her? Also, the fact that she--"

Rahim's eyebrow shot up at the sudden silence. "She what? What did she do?"

"She seems to have no regard for herself. She's so bold, and I am afraid for her too...she's too careless." Habib confessed, his cheeks heating with embarrassment.

Rahim chuckled, prompting Habib to look away. "Well, she seems ideal for you, I must say. And serious regarding you. I'm surprised you've managed to melt her heart, considering everyone in the village is kind of scared of her. But look, Uncle, she doesn't know anything about you, she hasn't even seen you... fully. Yet she seems to like you. If that doesn't scream romantic and respectful, then I don't know what does."

"That's the thing--she doesn't know about--"

"Uncle, please. Just tell me, do you want me to convey something to her or not?" Rahim pressed, his tone turning more earnest.

Habib hesitated, the weight of the night pressing down on them like a thick fog, shrouding his thoughts in uncertainty. "I.--give me time to think," he finally admitted, the shadows around them deepening as the moonlight flickered, leaving the air heavy with unspoken feelings.

═════ ◈ ═════

You were quite taken aback when one of the kids from school wanted to tell you something very important. It left the teachers surprised when you took the boy aside to talk, you were always attentive and considerate when it came to people. So this was Habib's nephew. Interesting.

"Okay, so if I have to talk to him, I have to use you as an envoy?"

Rahim nodded almost pridefully, causing you to scoff playfully. "Mhm. And why can't I just go to the shop and talk to him? Or, better yet, call him on the phone?"

Rahim's eyes widened as he shook his head, glancing around nervously. "No, no. You see, my uncle is very cautious about these things, and you visiting the shop-"

"Trust me, I know."

"And he doesn’t have a phone."

"Why is that?" A familiar pang of sympathy and concern befell your heart.

"Well, because he doesn't feel the need to have one," Rahim explained.

"What about you?"

"I--I do..."

"Hm. I see. Odai, give this boy my number. And Rahim, tell your uncle, I'm free at 8 p.m." A blush crept up Rahim's cheek. You really are serious about his Uncle.

"O-okay, ma'am, I will. Thank you."

"Thank you, too." Rahim grinned as you ruffled his hair and walked away to resume the conversation with the principal. Phew. He nearly peed his pants.

═════ ◈ ═════

"Mhm, must be a wrong number."

Rahim nudged his uncle harder, making him yelp, which made you smirk from your side of the conversation. Poor Rahim must be struggling to get his uncle to speak up right now. You cleared your throat, the anticipation tingling in the air.

"H-hello..."

"Oh, so there is someone on the other line..."

"O-of course there is! How do you think you got a call?" He bit his lip, feeling the familiar rush of warmth flood his cheeks. Your light laughter echoed through the receiver, and he could practically picture your smile, bright and teasing, making his heart race with every syllable.

The moment felt electric, and as Rahim left the room with a smirk, granting his uncle a semblance of privacy whilst Habib found himself entranced by your voice.

"I just wanted to make sure it was you," you said, a playful lilt in your tone. "So, you did call. I was beginning to worry..."

Habib unconsciously twirled a strand of his hair, a soft smile spreading across his face. Your voice sent shivers down his spine, wrapping around him like a warm embrace even over the phone.

"Yes, I did. How... was your day?" he asked, a hint of anticipation in his tone.

"Hectic as always," you replied, the thought of your busy schedule tugging at his heart. He wished he could be there to help ease your burdens.

"You didn't… visit the… shop for the past few days."

"You missed me?" he bit his finger at your query, feeling warmth bloom in his chest at the thought of you thinking of him. "Mhm... a lot," he admitted

"How much?" There you went with the teasing again. But he loved every moment of it, your playful banter igniting a spark within him that he couldn't ignore.

"A--lot... I told you!" he replied, his heart racing, unable to contain the giddiness bubbling inside.

"But I want to know~"

"More... than you for sure," he huffed out, rolling onto his side on the bed, the fabric of his sheets cool against his heated skin. He imagined you lying next to him, the two of you sharing secrets and laughter. Your fingers running through his hair.

"Well, I had work, and I cannot visit the shop daily, y'know. It's a blessing that your nephew got this idea to approach me. Or...was it yours?"

"It was his! I was just-- I agreed."

"I miss you too, y’know. Those captivating eyes, this gentle, soothing voice." The way you spoke made his heart race, filling him with warmth and longing. Each word from your lips felt like a spell, wrapping around him tighter with every passing moment.

Eventually the call ended, leaving him breathless and more determined than ever. He glanced at Rahim who entered back, with an almost mischievous smile on his face. "Looks like you're in deep trouble now, Uncle," Rahim teased, but all Habib could think about was how he would make sure you knew just how much you meant to him.

And just like that, you both conversed for days, getting to know each other. Habib kept most things vague about himself, shrouding his past in mystery, but you knew better than to pry. Still, a part of him dreaded the day you might bring it up, fearing the vulnerability it would expose. On the other hand, he worried if you would ever uncover his history--a secret he guarded with every ounce of his being.

For now, though, he relished this new feeling, this blessing called love. If love is a curse, then he was ready to be a victim of it an infinite number of times, endlessly drawn to the light you brought into his life.

Part IV

[dumbfuck11111]

❥i am currently simping over ghost from call of duty, i would like to politely and respectfully get on my knees for this man and have him treat me like his fucktoy.

[sister-lucifer]

thinking about Jason the toymaker x male reader with some forced feminization

although Jason is pansexual and feels attraction to all genders indiscriminately, he usually only finds women to be ethereally beautiful enough to be his dolls. He only knows how to treat ladies, not gentlemen. But then he walks into the toy shop one day, a man whose angelic visage is almost too much for Jason to bare, and he needs to have him.

Jason has only ever had female victims dolls, so of course the closet in your lovely new room is filled with women’s clothing and Victorian style dresses, intricate outfits with corsets and layers of undergarments that he’ll surely have to help you with. Not to worry, he’s more than willing to assist you! He expects his dolls to be well dressed for him, after all.

The way he treats you is so condescending, cooing down at you about how beautiful you are for him. He reminds you to sit with your legs crossed, it’s not ladylike to spread yourself over the seat like that. Yes, yes, he knows you’re not a lady, stop reminding him. He’s just trying to teach you to be proper.

You’re such a pretty doll, do you know that? Yes you are, and you’re his pretty doll now, to dress up and play with however he sees fit. No, no, dont whine, be a good boy and wear the dress, okay? You wouldn’t want to anger your darling, would you?

Jason sees nothing wrong with how he treats you. What’s ladylike is proper, and you should be proper for him, shouldn’t you? He really doesn’t know any better, but a good doll shouldn’t complain either way. So behave like a good girl, okay?

anyways yeah i’m thinking about this a lot i need to write a fic

[liquidstar]

crazy take: aside from actual lesbian romance stories, obviously, nothing passes the bechdel test better than moe "cute girls doing cute things" anime. its always just a group of girls, few to no named male characters, boys and dating are hardly ever brought up beyond the abstract, if at all. like we're focusing on the girls hanging out rn, we dont need to worry abt that shit. mugi just ate mio's strawberry.

[frenchfrywrites]

His Treasure

MINORS DNI

Warnings: Service/sub top male reader, power/dom bottom yandere Rook Hunt, reader has an oral fixation, possessiveness, jealousy, obsessiveness, praise, lil dumbification, mommy kink, feminization, blowjob, ruined orgasm, sub space, google translate french

A weight on your lap wakes you up in the middle of the night. You blink away the sleep from your eyes, groaning softly as you adjust from being ripped from your peaceful slumber. 

“Rook?” you mumble, faintly making out his face from the moonlight seeping in from your open window. 

“Bonne soirée, mon amour,” he greets you softly, cupping your face with a gloved hand. Knowing it’s him atop of you, you bring your hands to his thighs, which are stationed at either side of your hips, squeezing the muscled flesh there affectionately. You’re delighted by his presence, despite not knowing why he’s in your room, or how he got here for that matter. 

“What are you doing here?” you ask sleepily, leaning into his touch. He hums softly, his sharp green eyes practically glowing in the moonlight. His hand goes from your face to your neck, finding your pulse and pressing there gently. Your breath hitches, and any exhaustion from being awoken leaves your body as goosebumps bloom across your skin. 

“I saw you with Cater this afternoon,” Rook muses. You nod, remembering the moment in question, but you don’t remember Rook being around when it happened. “Whatever could Monsieur Magicam want from you?” you audibly swallow at his question,

“Um he just wanted to see my notes for Trein’s class, and then he wanted to take a picture together,” you explain, feeling nervous, even though you know you don’t have any reason to be. Rook hums again, smiling, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I see,” he sighs, “I understand his desire to photograph you, mon beau, however…” his gaze finally shifts away from you. The pause he takes is light, but you feel uneased by it all the same. “I hope he does not post it,” Rook finally continues, “I would be very displeased if others could so easily acquire access to your beauty. You are a rare jewel, a treasure, and you should not be exploited,” he rambles, returning his attention to you. You smile, for even though it’s excessive, any praise from Rook makes your heart flutter.

Rook returns your smile lovingly, letting out a pleased sigh as he looks down at you.

“Ah, mon amour, je suis désolé, I just can’t help myself when it comes to you,” he leans down to kiss your cheek, “forgive me, it’s selfish, but mommy wants to keep you all to himself,” he whispers in your ear. An excited shiver runs down your spine, and you can already feel the beginnings of arousal setting in.

“I’ll ask Cater not to post the picture,” you tell him, wanting nothing more but for your lover to be pleased with you. Rook kisses your cheek again before pulling away a bit,

“Tell him to delete it,” he all but orders. You nod, and Rook smiles happily. “Good boy,” he hums as he begins pulling off his gloves. 

Slowly, painfully so, he brushes his now bare fingers against your lips, before leaning down to kiss you properly. You accept the kiss eagerly, opening your mouth when his tongue licks against your lips. Rook’s hands find their way to your chest, and he presses his thumbs against your nipples. You can feel him smile into the kiss when you moan from his light touches. 

When he pulls away, he leaves you breathless and aching for more. “I want you inside me,” he hums, grinding back against your half hard cock.

“Yeah,” you practically whine, bucking your hips up, chasing the pleasure. Rook makes a noise that’s halfway between a moan and a laugh at your reaction. 

“So impatient,” he chastises, his hands moving downwards so he can help you pull off your sleep shirt. You flush as Rook stares you down. It’s moments like this that remind you of your lover's fascination with hunting. There’s no better way to put it, but he makes you feel like caught prey at times. 

“So impatient, but alas, I can’t deny you,” he laughs, pulling his own shirt off. Now it’s your turn to admire him. Uncontrollably, you salivate looking at his chest. Your arousal grows as you remember how many times you’ve sucked and played with his nipples as he’s cradled your head and waxed poetic about you. 

“Ah,” he runs his own hands over his chest, instantly taking notice of where you’re focused on, “does my baby boy want to suck on mommy’s breasts?” he asks, amusement clear in his voice. 

“Yeah,” you moan again, leaning up so you can do so. Rook stops you by pushing your chest back onto the bed. He tuts,

“I know you have better manners than that, mon amour,” you exhale a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Sorry, please, can I, mommy?” Rook smiles at your correction. 

“You may,” he permits, and you can’t get your mouth on him fast enough. Rook laughs at your zeal, but is cut off when you take one of his nipples into your mouth and suck. He moans softly, holding your head gently. “There we go, good boy,” you moan at his praise, looking up to see his pleasured expression. 

“Hm if only mommy had milk for you,” he says dejectedly, and your cock throbs at the thought. You whimper, sucking more fervently, like any second now your wish will be granted. Rook arches his back, pressing your face more against his chest.

“You make me feel so-oh good,” he coos, moving your face from one nipple to the other. You give the other side the same attention, sucking and licking at his skin. There have been times when you’ve mouthed at his skin for hours, but tonight you’re wound up and itching to be inside him. 

“Please,” you groan, pulling away from his chest, “please can I fuck you mommy?” you ask, oh so politely. 

“Asking me so nicely,” he grins down at you, “how could I possibly say no?” leaning down, he kisses you lovingly. Your hands wander for the first time tonight, tugging on the waistband of his pants. Rook assists you, and sooner than later you’re both naked, your clothes in a heap on the floor. 

You’re more than happy to be fully undressed, because it was starting to get uncomfortable having your dick strain against your sleep pants. Plus, now you can see Rook’s pretty cock, and how hard he is. You find yourself salivating once again as you stare at him unabashedly. Rook lets out a breathy giggle, jerking his hips up so his dick bobs against his stomach.

“You want mommy in your mouth, non?” you whine at being called out. He hums, “I think you might have an oral fixation, mon cher,” he jokes lightly. You don’t respond, and your silence is as good of an answer as anything you could’ve said. He touches your lip again, “nevertheless, that will have to wait until later,” you nod, excited by the promise of a future blowjob, “right now you have to stretch me.” He pauses,

“Do you think you can do that? Or do you need mommy’s help?” he teases. 

“I can do it, I just need-” you pause, looking around. Rook reaches behind you, under the pillow where you were soundly asleep not long ago. He presents you with a vial of lube you didn’t even know was there, and you’re far too consumed with lust to wonder how it got there. “Thank you mommy,” you mumble softly, lubing up your fingers as fast as possible. 

“You’re welcome, baby,” he kisses your face, then leans forward, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, so you can reach around and finger him open. 

As your fingers brush against his puffy hole, you busy your mouth by sucking a mark onto his neck. You can feel his pulse under your tongue, it quickens when you press one into him. 

“Good boy,” he coos, pressing himself back against your hand. Spurred on by his praise, you ease another finger into him, spreading your fingers and working him open for you. 

You have him gasping for breath and moaning in no time. Your cock is throbbing and aching with need as you fuck him with three fingers. 

“Enough,” he says gently, after a moment, “fuck me,” you whimper at his command, giving a final kiss against his skin before pulling away.

Slowly, you ease your fingers out of him, and grab the lube again. You coat your cock with it, then look to Rook for permission. He smiles at you affectionately,

“So sweet,” he kisses you lips chastely, “you know how to beg, don’t you?” 

“Please, mommy, please let me fuck you,” you whine, your hands squeezing the meat of his thighs so you can ground yourself. Rook lets out a pleased hum, and aligns himself with your dick. You watch as he lowers himself inch by inch until he’s fully seated on you.

“Mama,” you gasp, feeling overwhelmed beyond belief already. Rook doesn’t let you adjust to the feeling of his hot, wet, clenching hole, before he starts moving. “Mommy- Rook- wait-” he pauses, holding himself up with just your tip inside. 

“Were you going to cum, mon trésor?” he asks breathlessly. You nod, and he moans, “that’s okay, that’s okay,” he reassures, kissing you lovingly, “tell me when you’re ready, my love.” A couple heavy, steadying breaths later you feel good enough to continue, and you tell him as much.

Once again Rook slides down your cock, and sets up a slow pace for you. 

“It makes mommy very happy that- ah- I have this effect on you,” he confesses, gazing at you fiercely, the way he looks at you when you catch his eye across the packed halls and you already know he’s been looking at you the whole time. “Hah, my pussy feels so-oh good, non?” you groan and nod, your hips jerking up into him, he grins wildly, “you only want mommy, oui? Oh, you’d only fuck me? You’d only love me?” 

“Yes, yes, yes,” you babble, grasping weakly at his thighs, and letting him ride you into the bed. 

“Say it,” he all but begs, picking up the pace.

“Nghh, I only wuh-want you mommy, and I oh-only wanna fuck you, ah-and I only love you,” you struggle through it, your brain muddled with lust, but that doesn’t seem to phase Rook. He bounces on your cock, moaning at your words, clenching tightly around you. And then, catching you entirely off guard, Rook cums. 

His mouth drops open, letting out erratic breaths as he rides himself through his orgasm, his cum making a mess of your stomach and chest. Awestruck, you watch him, getting so close to your own climax, yet you’re unable to finish before he slows down and slumps against you.

“Mommy?” you can’t help but sound so small at this moment, so unsure of what’s going to happen next, all tense and stressed over not being able to cum. Rook runs a hand through his hair, then gives you a soft smile. 

“I’m sorry baby,” he leans in to kiss you, “ah, that took me off guard as well,” he confesses. You whine as he begins to lift himself off your lap. Rook shushes you, “don’t fret, mommy is going to make you feel good,” he promises. 

Rook lifts off your cock, then pushes you so you’re laying down fully. He collects his cum from where it splattered against your bodies, then lifts his hand to your mouth. You drop your jaw obediently, and clean up his fingers, moaning at the taste. 

“Good boy, now,” he takes his fingers from your mouth, “I recall telling you that you could take me in your mouth earlier,” your eyes widen as you too remember his words. There’s a few seconds of readjusting, and then Rook has his thighs on either side of your face, his flaccid penis just inches away from your awaiting mouth.

Not wasting another moment, he eases his cock inside of your mouth, and you take all of him inside easily. It’s different from when you’ve sucked off his erect dick, that much is obvious. You simply hold him in your mouth, sucking and swallowing around him, cleaning his cock of any leftover cum. As you hold him in your mouth, the outside world disappears fully, and you sink into the happy, fuzzy feeling you only get with Rook.

“Ah, look at you,” Rook muses, tracing the features of your face lovingly, “my sweet boy, taking me so well, making me feel so good.” You feel him twitch in your mouth, and pre leaks from your neglected dick. “Submissive, pacified, and impeccable,” you moan around him, and his dick begins to swell in your mouth. “All mine, making me feel good, only me,” he rambles, and you know from the wild look on his face that warning bells should be ringing, but currently all you can feel is euphoria. 

Your eyes fluttered shut at some point, as your mouth fills with his hardening dick. You have to stop yourself from choking as it presses against your throat. If drool is seeping from your mouth from the intrusion, you’re too far gone to realize it. 

When you feel a hand circle around your dick, your eyes open up. Rook, arching his back and reaching behind himself to jerk you off, is the sight you’re met with. The lube still wet on your dick allows for him to stroke you smoothly. His thighs squeeze around your head as he stabilizes himself. 

You moan around his length, jerking your hips into his touch. Rook smiles down at you, “are you close, mon amour?” he asks breathlessly, shallowly thrusting his now fully hard dick further down your throat.

You don’t answer- you can’t, of course- but the way your dick twitches and leaks pre is evidence enough. He quickens his pace then gives special attention to your tip; the fire in your loins grows, and you feel your cock twitch. He’s pulling off all the stops, and it’s having the desired effect on you. You grab his hips, squeezing the flesh there and pulling him closer, so his cock is as far down your throat as possible, and your nose is buried fully in his pubic hair.

“Ah-” Rook gasps, “go ahead baby, cum for mommy,” he murmurs, looking at you through his lashes. His permission topples you over the edge with a groan and a hip thrust. Your eyes glaze over, pleasure overcoming every ounce of your being. 

Rook catches your cum in his hand, carefully working you off until you come down from your high. Nearly a second later, he cums for a second time, down your throat. You swallow it down, choking and gurgling around him as it shoots down your throat and into your stomach. 

In a haze, you keep sucking and licking around his cock until he begins to lift his hips. “Come on, love,” he coaxes you to let him go. You lick your drool slicked lips once his cock leaves your mouth, a satisfied smile gracing your face. Rook mirrors your smile, flopping down next to you. 

He wipes his cum covered hand on your bedding, then hauls you into his arms. You’re still in that fuzzy space where you aren’t fully there, but you know you like being held, so you press yourself as much as you can against him. This pleases Rook immensely. 

“Bien précieux,” he says softly, “my darling treasure. I love you so much,” he looks expectantly down at you. Wanting nothing more than to please him, you reply with a hoarse,

“Love you too.” Rook hums, 

“It’ll just be the two of us together forever, isn’t that right mon cher?” he asks, taking advantage of your sleepy, eager to please state. You nod, and Rook kisses you before you both succumb to your exhaustion. 

You sleep soundly in his arms, unaware to the fact that you’d just sealed your fate with Rook.