#i listen only to you i bow only to you i obey only to you…only you can calm my bared fangs only you can be spared from my claws….

[nanamimizz]

i wish i had the brain power to write what it is the type of love id like druid reader and astarion to have but it leaves me short circuited every time

[hana-no-seiiki]

More dommy mommy reader!

this time, using some lines from makima’s jp cv’s asmr and devil wears prada scenes. pretty sure i wrote this scenario before but like a long time ago, and just in headcannons so.

YANDERE! BATFAM x DOMMY! MOMMY! READER

You do not think Bruce Wayne was completely aware of the logistics when it came to Galas. If he did he wouldn’t be holding so many of those damn things all the time.

“I’m so sorry, Miss [Y/N]! I really did confirm last night.”

“Tales of your incompetence do not interest me.”

But maybe you shouldn’t be blaming him, but the lack of tact, wit, or remarkable capability the entire staff had. Then again, it’s because you’re always around the Batfamily that your standards for competency were so high.

“Miss [Y/N]!” You heard someone call out to you.

The assistant behind you visibly tensed. Anyone with a brain on them knew not to bother you during work. Hell, any thing that could breathe knew not to approach you when you were swamped with work (which was usually all the time)

“Drake, let me go.”

“Damian. Stay.” Damian doesn’t even notice the condescending way his father reprimanded him, jealousy consumed him entirely. He only saw red.

“How can you be so calm about this? They’re practically smothering her!”

“There’s a reason why Miss [Y/N] was picked to be Alfred’s successor y’know. Beyond just family ties.” Dick caressed Damian’s hair. “She values professionalism above all. She’ll reject them right about now…”

“You . . . love me?” You parroted back. Your features do not budge an inch.

“Y-yes. I’ve been —“

You interrupt, frankly too busy to listen to their rambling, “Then pray.”

“Huh?”

“You love me right? Then pray that I love you. Beg if you have to.”

Despite their flustered almost angered reaction to your command, your admirer felt their knees turn into a soggy noodle like substance. Their heart practically leapt at the opportunity to obey you.

“Only God will make me consider.”

Not even a moment passed before you were back to your duties, the confession long gone from your thoughts, “Tell Timothy for the 48th time, no. I do not want those devices of him in my room, and if I find another one I’m promptly sending in my resignation. Has Bruce confirmed?”

“Uh- oh!” The intern snapped out of their daze, scribbling furiously on their notepad.

You finally stopped where the guys were at, a bit befuddled by the way they were staring holes at you. Damian practically had a mix of panic, relief and anger painted all over him. “Yes, how may I be of assistance to you, young master?”

“I- I’m fine.”

“Richard, make sure to confirm your attendance.” You glared at the eldest brother.

He saluted in response, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Busy day?” Jason inquired, an attempt at small talk if you will.

“Busy day.” You swiftly cut off his olive branch. After making sure none of the men needed your presence with a quick once over, you make a bow and left. Your voice, though soft could still be heard, “Do I smell freesias? If, I see, freesias anywhere I will be verrryyy disappointed —“

[moonjellysfeast]

My Own Galatea- Crybaby x Top Male Reader Cont.

cw; Manipulation, abuse, unethical science, dehumanization, murder plotted but not described, minor hornt at the end, you answer a call while fucking, Crybaby is @yanderefarm's character

Of course, you weren't only there to train Crybaby into an obedient weapon. Elias needed a gentle touch too and as soon as he stopped remembering what he did as the other persona he was ready to be trained in a new way. After all, you planned to bring Elias home and make him yours.

"Elias, please come here" He refused to move due to his earlier training, "You know you can trust me, right? We're friends, you can listen to me"

"But... only Crybaby listens... Right?"

"Oh, lovely, no. Crybaby obeys because he is a conduit, You ought to listen of your own choice. Because we are friends, Elias. Because I want you to" You smiled at the boy who looked like a kicked puppy even as you repeated your request and he scrambled to kneel in front of you and rest his head on your lap.

"Good, thank you, my sweet" You pet his head, letting the gentleness be his reward.

"I'm so glad we're so close now, when we first met I had to be so... careful with you" You laced your fingers through his hair as you spoke, soon wrapping the locks around your fingers to pull his head up at an uncomfortable angle to ensure he was looking up at your grin. "Now you're so malleable~"

He whined a bit at the strain in his neck but made no move to escape, in fact, leaning into your touch and staring up at you with adoration. You had to stifle a laugh at how pathetic he looked, the perfect little puppet for you to toy with. So eager to please that anything could bring him immense pleasure if it were from you. This included the torture he underwent to make him a perfect warrior.

When you could not be the one to administer his treatments he had to be restrained as Crybaby to ensure your Elias would stay sweet and to help him learn to be angry and more aggressive as Crybaby. If it was you, he only had to be restrained to keep himself from pushing the tools further into himself and ruining his body. It was bad enough that you were very soon only permitted to give him injections or other, less torture focused treatments. Though, you made sure to get recordings of his torture so you knew every single thing that was happening to him, as well as to entertain yourself in times where you missed his big wet eyes.

Eventually, you decided he needed a test run to ensure he could kill efficiently. You even had a victim in mind, one of the other scientists in the building who worked with him often and yet still seemed to believe they had moral superiority over you. They always looked at you with disgust and often commented on the fact you were a darling, seeming to believe the gene made you subhuman. To guide Crybaby in the correct direction you complained a few times to him about that person, even showing him pictures so he could recognize them. You knew if he were to simply focus on killing them he'd likely be taken out by the security, so to keep him safe you told him about your usual trip home so he could have a second goal and not let himself die.

You reasoned that if it didn't work you could likely find someone else to train into a perfect doll, though you had put so much work into Elias, you couldn't say you weren't worried. You finally determined he was ready and told him very directly that you wished for the death of your coworker before you went home for the day. You did not get to see exactly what happened, sitting at home and waiting for either a masked, blood soaked puppet or a message from your boss on the death or major injury of Crybaby.

After a few hours, you became very concerned, imagining his death at the hands of some stupid guard, so far from you. Finally a gentle knock came from the door before it opened and he stumbled in, dropping to his knees and bowing down towards you like he was praying. You couldn't help but grin as you lifted his head and peeled the mask off, the adorable, tear stricken face looking up at you with baited breath, awaiting his next order.

"Very good job, Crybaby~ You finally came home~ Now, Elias, let's get you cleaned up and in bed, You deserve a reward, don't you~"

He was now ready to be trained as your housepet, at your beck and call. This portion of training would be so much easier, he was already prepared to be obedient, he only needed to be guided. As it turned out, he also needed to be subdued as he was far too excited to receive your attention. You didn't even have the chance to pull out of him when your boss called to explain that he'd escaped. You did answer and she did hear him very loudly whining about your attention being away from him for even a moment. Suffice to say, you got to keep him in your home most of the time after that.

[unintentionalseductress]

The Office Pet

warnings: MDNI, rough sex, bdsm, treating reader like an animal, name calling, degradation, public humiliation, exhibitionism, dacryphilia, whipping, oral (fem receiving)

"Yes, go ahead and change the meeting to next week," Kento says smoothly, tapping his fingers against the polished wooden surface of his desk. "How fortunate that it worked out for both of us."

"Indeed," says the voice on the line. "I hope we-" The voice pauses as a loud whine is made audible on the call. "Is everything all right?"

"Indeed. No worries, it's just the office pet. She gets whiny when she's not receiving any attention." The blond salaryman says smoothly. "I look forward to our meeting next week." With that, he disconnects the line and turns his attention to you.

"Being a little disobedient today are we?"

You try to keep your desperate sobs to a minimum but it wasn't easy. The sybian Kento had ordered specially for you was vibrating against your clit, the dildo thrusting relentlessly inside you. Ropes bound you to the seat, as you blinked back the tears in your eyes. 

"I believe all I asked was for you to not orgasm until I was done with the call." Kento walks over to you, grinning at the tears in your eyes. A finger slips under the cute collar around your throat and he yanks you forward with sadistic gentleness.

"Mmm....I haven't...holding it...Being...good..." you whimper, trying to hold in your orgasm desperately, feeling your pussy clench around the dildo.

"Aw...have you? I suppose for a cumslut like you...that's impressive." He releases the collar.

"Master...can I please-"

"No." The word is said commandingly and you sob with need. "Please." You try again. "I'm gonna cum...please...need permission-"

"No." Kento reaches out and painfully twists one of your nipples, causing you to cry out from the pain. "You will listen and hold it. What's the point of having a pet if they're not obedient to you?"

As you whimper, muscles quivering from the effort of holding in your orgasm, he grins at you, amusement in his eyes. “I think you need a lesson in remembering what it means to listen and please your master. Perhaps I should show your bad behavior to the office? You should see the other pets…they’re quiet and obey.”

“I can obey…” you say in a progressively shrill voice as the machine continues to torture your pussy, pushing you to a limit that you feel your brain getting fuzzy, a haze of sexual need falling over you. 

“It appears you can’t.” He switches off the machine and you feel the loss on your abused, swollen pussy. He starts to remove the ropes binding you to the seat of the chair and lifts you off easily, dildo sliding from your wet cunt, and sets you down on the floor. 

“On your hands and knees. Perhaps a walk will set you straight.”

Trying not to show any signs of disobedience, you get on all fours. Nanami removes a leash from his desk drawer, which he dangles in front of your face before whipping your ass with one end of it, making you squeal and recoil from him. 

He clicks his tongue as he grabs your hair, keeping you in place. “Stay.” The command is said so seductively in your ear that despite everything, you freeze. “Stay,” he repeats, before whipping you a few more times, his lip curling cruelly at each squeal of pain, your ass turning red with each whip. Once he’s done, he clips the hook of the leash onto your collar, tugging at it.

“Walk,” he says authoritatively, as he opens the door. You crawl on your hands and knees, head bowed, feeling shame that you had disobeyed him like this. He walks you in between the cubicles, the occupants staring at your round ass, jiggling with your movements, your cunt puffy and chafing against your thighs, fluid seeping in between and dripping, leaving little droplets on the floor. Your tits sway as you continue to make your way down the hall. Only company partners were allowed to have pets, so this display to the other employees was a matter of rank and pride.

He walks you to the large office on the other side of the cubicles before knocking on the door and entering.

“Nanamin!” Gojo turns in his chair delightedly. “Have you brought your pet over for a playdate?”

“No playdate today. She’s being taught a lesson.”

“Ooh, been a bad girl huh?” Gojo smirks at you, and you feel yourself get more turned on by the words. 

“Hmm. Being noisy during work calls.”

“Tsk. Too bad. My pet stopped that about two weeks ago. Look at her.” He gestures over to the side of his office where his pet, a lovely woman with russet-colored hair was resting on a few pillows, hips humping against a vibrator. Only quiet hums were heard as she did this, not minding that they had company.

“See? Keeps herself quiet. Cums as much as she wants. Gotta check on her though, because sometimes she needs lube and hurts herself. Isn’t that right sweetheart?” The woman looks up, adoration in her eyes at Gojo and nods, not stopping her humping. 

“Just gotta keep upping her lube. Once she’s done cumming to her satisfaction she sleeps.” 

“Hear that?” Kento asks you, and you dare to look up at him with puppy dog eyes. “Oh don’t give me those eyes sweetheart.” He pets your hair. “I think you’ve learned your lesson after seeing how a good pet should be.” He strokes you down the back of your neck, up the curve of your ass. 

“Although, I must admit Nanamin, I’m surprised with your method. A sybian on such a new pet. I would’ve started with something less intense.”

“My methods are harsher but yield faster results,” Nanami says smoothly. “But perhaps I’ll look into something softer for her. I’m quite fond of her. Thinking about keeping her permanently.” He pats your ass with affection. Gojo whistles at that.

“Really? Getting kinda attached there eh?”

“I think I am. She’s sweet. And her pussy-” he suddenly stuffs two of his fingers into your sore cunt making you gasp loudly, “-has the nicest scent.” He pulls out his fingers, covered with your moisture, and offers it to Gojo for inspection. 

Gojo sniffs and his eyes widen. “That’s some sweet pussy you got there. Very nice. But I like my girl just fine. Cmere baby,” he calls to his pet, who stops her humping and comes over to him on hands and knees. 

“Can I get some attention, my sweet girl?” he croons and the woman puts her head on his lap. Taking that as a cue, Kento leaves Gojo’s office and begins your walk of shame back to his office. People stare at you enviously. 

“They’re jealous because you’re mine.” He says in a low tone only you can hear. “Only I get your sweet cunt and get to make you cum. They’ll get promoted someday, maybe get their own pet. But I have the sweetest little whore all to myself. Remember that.”

Once back in his office, he removes your leash, and the collar, to your surprise. He gently pets the nape of your neck, before picking you up and placing you onto the plushy futon on the floor he had gotten for you in a cute shade of pink, complete with matching pillows. 

“I guess maybe Gojo was right. I could be a little softer on you.” He caresses your face, petting behind your ears and then under your chin. Your eyes close and you purr at the touch, making him chuckle. 

“I do like you. Want to keep you forever. Did you just need some attention back then?” 

You nod eagerly, making him look at you amusedly. “Where did you want my attention? Show me.”

You make an arch with your body, ass up in the air, head lowering to the ground, spreading your legs so that he can see your whole cunt. 

“You greedy girl. Ok, just this time. I’m not rewarding you. You still disobeyed me by whimpering during that phone call. Think of this as testing your abilities. I’m going to make you cum and I expect you to stay quiet as it happens. I will ask the employees sitting outside if they heard you. If even one of them says yes…well…you can imagine how displeased I’ll be.” 

You quickly bite into the corner of the pillow as he licks your leaking hole generously, pushing his tongue into it. “Mhm… You taste so sweet…Might keep you just for this pussy…” His tongue laves upwards, finding your clit, slurping and pulling on it until you saw stars in your vision. All your noises were muffled by the pillow and you try not to grind against him, unsure how he would react, and just whimpered quietly, barely audible. 

Rough hands spread apart your ass cheeks to give more access to your dripping core, lapping up every drop of arousal you produce. After the rough session on the sybian you know you won't last long, and your hips thrust against your will, causing him to pause. 

“Are you close?” 

In a trembling voice, you ask pathetically, “Yes… Can I please cum master… I'll be good…” 

Your labia are so swollen and turning purple from the unreleased tension. Kento gently flicks them, making you twitch before saying, “Yes… Cum…But quietly.”

He focuses his attention on the hard nub and inserts two fingers to find your g-spot, feeling the gummy walls clench around him, practically sucking him in. 

You bury your head onto the cushions, not daring to breathe, smelling your arousal everywhere before orgasm grips you. You bite into the cushion, minimal, strangled whimpers of ecstasy escaping your throat as your cunt explodes with orgasmic pleasure, making you shudder. Kento quickly licks off his fingers before pulling down his pants and boxers, cock hard and throbbing. 

“Quiet,” he reminds you, before pushing into your wet folds. There's no resistance, you'd been so ready for such a long time now, pussy sucking him in and you keep your head buried in the cushions as he fucks you. He groans, teeth gritted. “Such a good little pet…Taking me so quietly… So obediently… are you feeling good?”

With all the concentration you could muster, you say in barely a whisper, “Fills me so good… Meant for my pussy… Fuck me as you please…” 

“I'm going to breed you my little pet… the next time you go on a walk my cum will be leaking from that pretty cunt of yours… And everyone will know what a good little cum dumpster you've been for me… Will know you're full of my seed…”

The thought was an overwhelming turn on and you feel like yourself dangerously close to the edge. “Master…” You whisper. “I’m close…Can I?”

“Not until I'm done. Don't get greedy. You already came once. Wait your turn.” 

You try to distract your mind from the impending orgasm, feeling your belly tighten almost painfully from holding it in. His hips stutter and his movements start to get sloppy as he fucks into you, balls slamming against your ass as you try to control your breath and impulses. His cockhead hits your g spot then brushes your cervix each time, and you can feel your mind starting to lose grip on reality. 

All that mattered was his cock… And him allowing you to cum. 

He growls as he orgasms, his hot seed coating your walls, cock pulsating inside you. 

“Well what are you waiting for?” he asks as he continues to thrust in you. “I thought you said you wanted to cum.”

With the hardest effort you’ve ever had to exert in your life, you cum a second time, a barely perceptible sobbing gasp escaping your throat, tears coating your face as you control the need to shout, your overstimulated cunt spasming so intensely, you thought you’d collapse. 

“Good girl…so good…barely made any sound.” He pulls out, his seed dripping from your abused hole. His thick fingers squeeze the edges of your lips, making it drip more, before pushing it back in with a finger making you squirm. 

“Let’s take another walk. I want everyone to know what a good pet smells like after she’s been rewarded.”

© unintentionalseductress original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭?!・l.f.

—Even after your bodyguard saved your life you insist that you don't need his help, maybe you feel a little different after he drops his weapon in the middle of a fight—and forces you to admit you need him.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠・lee felix x fem!reader // 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐬・action, fluff, crack, enemies to lovers // 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬・cursing, death of bad guys, blood, cursing, guns, knives, felix being a little shit, did i mention cursing?? (its my mother tongue)

𝐚/𝐧・BOO BITCHES!! haha i'm back after being gone for a... month...yeah...sorry. this is just something silly i had originally planned to put into my bodyguard!lix fic, but i ended up changing the plot so i can no longer (maybe) use it, though i loved it so much i just decided to post it :)) alsoooo does anyone want to be tagged in bodyguard!lix fic??

How the fuck did you manage to get yourself into this situation? Is all you can think of as the room swarms with men, all armed with various weapons, effectively backing yourselves into a corner.

Well, shit.

The walls are cold and hard as you fight your way to the door, driving your throwing knives into any vulnerable place your enemy shows. Men are falling all around you both by your hands and Felix's. It's all a blur—arrows wizz by your neck, mallets swinging around your head.

"Watch out!" Felix shouts. He places his hands around your waist. You are in the air before you can even blink. An arrow hits the cracked cobblestone where your forehead would have been.

Holy shit.

"Thank you," you throw over your shoulder, yanking the arrow out of the wall, launching it into the final man's chest fumbling with his bow right before he collapses. "But I didn't need your help."

Felix barks out an incredulous laugh, pressing his tongue into his cheek. Momentarily he is baffled before something else passes over his expression.

"Fine," he rests his back against the wall, dropping his bloody knife onto the floor, much to your horror.

"Felix, what the fuck—" you don't even get to complete the sentence before another man is sprinting towards you, appearing from the entryway red-eyed and vengeful, fueled by the death of all his comrades. You launch a knife at his jugular. He crumples like a rag doll.

"Felix, pick the knife up," you shout frantically, watching as six more men swarm into the hallway charging toward you. They really don't seem to like you. You move to pull more knives out of your seethe only to find you have four left.

"Felix, this isn't funny, pick the fucking knife up," you demand, far too afraid to be ashamed about the slight trembling in your tone. You send him a look over your shoulder, their stomping growing closer, too close, way, way too close.

"Are you going to admit you need my help?" Felix's obnoxiously smug voice sounds from behind you, practically tasting the smirk in his voice. You grit your teeth so hard they feel like they are going to fall off, but the steps grow louder, too loud.

"I need your help." The words taste so foul in your mouth you almost want to throw the "I hate you" that follows right back up. He smiles, back to his happy, cheery, you-want-to-smack-him-in-the-face-so-bad self.

"Atta girl," he purrs. "Now duck."

You obey.

Two guys breach the entrance, announcing their presence with a deafening battle cry. In one swift motion, Felix pulls a gun from thin fucking air and levels it with their heads. Taking in the mountains of dead bodies, they choose to listen to the barrel of his gun, halting instantly.

"Do you mind? The adults are talking," he chastizes, rolling his eyes as though he is talking to a petulant toddler instead of four knife-wielding guards.

"Where the hell did you get that?" you gasp, pointing to the that in question. He tilts his head, a slow, serpentine smile spreading across his lips. "Oh, this thing?" he flashes it in the light. "I got it from the guard at the gate." You're going to kill him. You're going to take this knife and shove it straight through his stupid, stupid head.

"You've had a gun this entire time?" You seethe, your eye twitching. For a moment, you're so pissed you completely forget about the men awkwardly waiting by the door two seconds away from sprinting.

"I thought you said you didn't need any help," Felix smirks.

"And you chose now to hold me up to my word."

In some half-baked plan to escape, the group charges forward, not before Felix pulls the trigger, shooting all four members square in the forehead—all without ever leaving your gaze. He rolls his eyes, shooting you a look like, 'Do these guys ever learn?' Then, as if nothing ever happened, he says,

"You seemed very adamant."

You were going to punch him, really, truly, you were going to put your fist through his annoyingly beautiful face. Instead, you yank the gun from his hands, clicking the safety and sliding it into the belt of your pants. He doesn't complain as you drag him out of the room, stepping over thick puddles of blood and tangled limbs, cringing slightly as red stains the bottom of your shoe. You wipe it on the floor when you step into the hallway, tiptoeing down the corner.

Somewhere in the distance, murmurs of voices catch your attention. Hiding behind a corner, the shadows cloak you, protecting you from unwanted eyes. The voices loom closer, almost close enough—in complete silence, you could make out the words.

"Hey love, your shoe's untied," Felix speaks from behind you, so loud you spin around, pressing a finger onto his lips in a rush, slowly realizing what little distance is left between you. He smiles against your finger, bringing his tongue to lick a fat stripe up the skin. You fight back a disgusted shriek, instead resorting to a harsh glare and a defiant middle finger.

"I really, truly, to the deepest depths of my soul, hate you," you say, wiping the saliva off your skin.

"Yeah, yeah, save it for the bedroom."

Tonight was going to be a long night.

cookie owns this

[witchthewriter]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑶𝒏𝒆.

⤷ gender neutral, Valyrian blood (dragon rider), and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: I was inspired by @reiignonme, and I just HAD to do this. I'm so excited to write it. Also, I do know that dragons are aggressive creatures, but to their bonded rider, they're different.

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐍:

・The God of Dragons, is what his title should have been

・But to you, he wasn't the intimidating beast that everyone saw him as.

・To you he was a work of art, a creation so wonderous that your breath hitched whenever you saw him.

・You show your love to him by laying beside him, treating him with respect and dignity.

・You hate leaving him on his own, but you allow him his independence.

・Never in a million years would you put him in the Dragonpit, chained and waiting for you.

・And in turn, he shows you his love by fiercely protecting you. He will fly you anywhere, and calls whenever he's beckoned.

・Only obedient to you, he doesn't listen to anyone else but you. However, it's almost as if he's level-headed and can be reasoned with.

・The other dragons fall in line and let him lead - which means you're the leader as well.

・His roar is earth-shakingly loud. And it can be heard from miles away.

・All of your subjects bow to you, knowing your power.

・Because we know, that a dragonrider has the same traits as their dragon.

𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐗𝐄𝐒:

・Is quite the adventurous dragon; she isn't one to be paraded around like Silverwing or Dreamfyre. She rather dislikes large crowds, preferring mountainsides and flying over oceans. She doesn't like small spaces either.

・Bonding with Meraxes was like bonding with a Border Collie - always has energy and curiosity

・But unlike Quicksilver, Meraxes is less energetic in a comic sense. She's more mature; more battle-worn.

・Will protect you unrelentingly.

・Hates sudden loud noises

・But loves hearing how much you love her and how much of a good job she's done

・Her teeth are smaller than the other dragons, but more pointed/sharp and there's more of them

・Her roar is also more high pitch and of a scream

・Meraxes' scales are pearlescent and seem to move in the sunlight

・Not many people know that, because she doesn't like being approached by others.

・That's why she isn't kept in the dragonpit.

・But she isn't as aggressive as Vermithor or the Cannibal

・You can tell that she wants a mate though, and often tries to woo Balerion - but he wants none of it.

𝐕𝐇𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐑:

・She shows her love by waiting for you to sit on her saddle before taking off.

・You have to shout out the command to fly and then, she takes off.

・You have a very special bond with Vhagar, which clicked into place because you would spend more time looking after her than making her fly.

・For example, talking to her, brushing/washing her, stroking her face.

・For those who don't think dragons understand - you're wrong because they really do. That's why some riders have a bigger bond than others.

・Some just see their dragon as an animal, as a beast. But those that see them as apart of them, that's when the true bond clicks into place.

・And you knew that being pampered is everyone's dream - or just being doted upon. So, because you put in the hours for her, she does the same for you.

・She obeys your commands without question, because she trusts you.

・But she doesn't like anyone else touching her, in fact there's a few trainers with burnt hands because of Vhagar.

・She loves laying in the sun, and will fly you to a beach to lay in the sand. Often you're chastised by your family for bringing sand into the castle.

𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑:

・LOVES TO FLY

・She's the type of dragon to be like, "let's go faster! let's go faaaaasteeeer!"

・Isn't as aggressive as others, but would rather be away from people if able.

・Hates being paraded around

・But will do it if persuaded with food and belly rubs (although most dragons don't like to expose their stomachs as it is one of their most vulnerable body parts)

・When you introduce her to a friend or acquaintance, she does a big roar and then huffs a laugh at the person's scared response

・One of the more docile dragons like Silverwing

・Has similar colouring to Meraxes, but unlike her, Quicksilver is smaller but nimbler.

・One of the fastest

・Can beat anyone in a race

・And she LOVES to race

・Has to be ridden everyday otherwise she goes hyperactive and will lash out at the trainers

・Once when you were bedridden for a week, she flicked a whole group of trainers with her tail and then let out the biggest flame she had ever expelled.

・Tail flick = I'm irritated, Roar = I'm hungry or is trying to scare someone for a laugh, Fire = she is actually angry, Baring her teeth = scared

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐁𝐀𝐋:

・No one is allowed to approach him, hell no one is allowed to look at him.

・He's an incredibly aggressive and temperamental dragon. One that hates everyone but you.

・Completely black, he's known for eating other dragons - which makes him an outsider. No dragon, no matter how mighty, doesn't feel safe around him

・Even Balerion keeps his distance

・You weren't sure whether to keep his name or not, since you did have an emotional connection with him.

・But you guessed that he like being intimidating

・You have to feed him yourself or he will go hunting for dragons or sheep. Hasn't actually eaten a person, but has killed many.

・As he's your bonded dragon, people are a lot more intimidated by you. Since dragons and riders have somewhat similar traits.

・Although he does like showing you his den. He looks at you like, 'it's nice, isn't it. Did you see the bones I placed at the front? Yeah...it's to scare people off...'

・You see him differently than others see him. You aren't afraid of him. It's how you were able to bond with him in the first place.

・There was something in his eye that you thought was vulnerability, rather than hostility.

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑:

・His favourite form of physical touch is being scratched, like, really really scratched.

・Vermithor's back leg will wobble in absolute delight

・Especially when you get to those places where he cannot reach himself

・Doesn't like anyone but you doing it (or anyone but you being in the room when you do it)

・He's a very private & grumpy boi. Doesn't like being woken too early either. And likes to have an afternoon nap.

・And an angry/aggressive one too. He doesn't like being woken up early, and once you had to dodge out of his firing line. When he realised it was you, he made a really long upset face (that only you and his only other rider, Jaehaerys has seen)

・But he's incredibly loyal, and would die for you.

・What's important to you, is important to him (unless it's before 8am)

・Can sense when you're overwhelmed and will let out a huge roar so no one comes near

・Likes when you fall asleep with him. He may like his solitude, but he doesn't mind company (it depends on the company)

・Actually likes doing royal processions because he gets to show off how big and scary he is. He knows it's too remind the people of whose in charge.

𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆:

・The least aggressive out of all the dragons (but that doesn't make her a formidable foe.)

・It's almost as if Silverwing understands that dragons keep people in line, but an approachable dragon keeps the respect and admiration of the people

・If she's patient and sociable with others, then you know damn well she has all the love, patience and affection for you.

・She shows her affection by nuzzling into your open palm, her eyes closed and you swear her lips are in the shape of a smile

・Wherever you are - standing alone, or in a crowd etc., she has her body wrapped around you; shielding you.

・And when you're alone together, she'll lay down and let you rest with her, and/or on her. Then, she'll fully wrap around you to help you warm up.

・She absolutely loves spending time with you. Funnily enough, she's a very outgoing dragon.

・She won't let you come into any harm though. Either because she herself has placated the people who could hurt you (the common people) by interacting with them calmly and gently.

・And if anyone tries to hurt you, she's the first to react. Although her temperament seems calm, she is highly protective of you and will burn someone to ash if they try to hurt you.

・When you're in King's Landing and the King demands that Silverwing be put in the Dragonpits, you sneak down to sleep with her. You have a very tight bond.

・Otherwise, she takes you somewhere else to sleep; amongst the grass, so you can fall asleep underneath the stars.

[ur-mousey]

Benzo-Addict ~

- Yandere! Jeffery x F! Reader -

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Part One, Part Two

summary Drugs have always been your friend. A source of courage and tonight's no different. Now it's time to fuck a nerd. Hope your BF understands. 1.7k

warning mature, smut, non-con, hostage situation, dry humping.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

** Choices **

There are NO MORE choices to choose from.

You are shit outta luck, now wear those kitten ears and purr real good.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You blurringly watched ahead. A TV buzzed with images of red, blue, and clover green. You didn't feel luck at all. Jeffery kept you stable on his inner thigh, carding through knots twisted amongst your hair. You listened past his singing to the crickets beyond the attic crawl space, where cars whirled by, and left without hearing your pleas. Cody laid bleeding out on the creaky wooden slates. One thought persisted, he would die here. You talked him through it as best as you could, but in a twist of fate, you wished him dead. He'd be better off that way.

The rusted odor was acidic to your nostrils and filled the space like a migraine after a bender. All you could do was to constrict your throat. You were afraid that you'd double over at the sight. It's game over. As if you could save anyone? Much less yourself. Time to roll the credits. And spoiler, you'll remain fucked into death on top of a Hatsune Miku body pillow.

What the fuck were you supposed to do? What exactly could you have done differently? Go back in time and do what? Not be nice?

You smoothed snot into the wrist of your cardigan. The answer was a simple one. It stared you plain in the face, and it taunted you with the ferocity of the North Seas. You were the issue. Everything you did, all who you've interacted with, culminated into a thick poison settling in your skin. You wondered if you were destined for this - a life dictated by god where autonomy may be gifted or provoked.

And if you were to see Jeffery as that god, he had chosen to take you in as his rascal stray kitten. There will be no more choices afforded to you besides those he'll offer. Either to obey or not to obey. To crawl or to not be afforded the chance to ever walk again.

You were on the cusp of that new version of normalcy, having started with whom you placed the blame on. Jefferey directed it at Cody, as did Cody directed it at Jeffery. They were both wrong.

This was your fault. Jeffery showed you how easy it was to make you disappear. He cleaned fast that first night, ten days ago. You wouldn't have realized a stranger in the dark. He packed clothing for Cody and you, alongside sentimental items you'd fail to leave behind. He took a handful of Percs for the road and set up a snorting station of crushed Valium in the middle of your coffee table.

Jeffery had ushered you over by your biceps. He urged you to snort what you could of the powder. "Only a little, hun. He'll take the rest."

You wailed into your hands. Any and all protests were stumped in the pits of your belly. Drowsiness threatened to take you. But, your heart seemed to pound greatly outside of your body.

Jeffery whispered, "Please." He brought your head to his, forehead to forehead. "I promise, you'll sleep this all off. I love you. All I ask of you is to do this one thing to ensure our future."

"H-how?" Your voice sounded feral.

"You need to disappear. I'm setting the scene..." Jeffery brought your hands together. "If you aren't all mine, I can't stand it."

You gnawed on your lips, "How would this make me disappear?"

"I thought of many scenarios," Jeffery began, using his other hand to smooth flyaway strands from your face. His thumb rested upon your cupid's bow. "Most of them endited you for murder. But, I don't want people to think bad of you... So the plan is to-umm..." It seemed hard for him to set his words in order. He started once in stutters then he collapsed back against your boyfriend's bound leg. Jeffery basked in the silence.

Cody winced, flailing his limbs as best he could against the restraint. His muffled voice berated against your skull's cavity. Jeffery cleared his throat to begin anew. "Frankly... this world wouldn't miss druggie one," He slammed his fist hard into Cody's gut who began to wheeze while constricting in on himself as best he could. "Shut the fuck up! I told you if you attract the neighbors, I gut you. Now..."

Jeffery brought your head back to his. "You are druggie two. One and Two go missing. Then the cops assume these... 'lovers' fled together."

"And snorting Val?"

"You two were high off all the shit you took tonight. Friday nights are your weakness. The Valium is to cement the final hoora! of the night! Then I'll drive your car to the edge of town where there's no security, I'll withdraw money in his clothes, then dump him somewhere. And I get to have you! We can start our new lives with each other."

You blinked rapidly then slowed to the rhythm of your breaths. Were you ever breathing? "D-uuh Dump him... where exactly?"

"Anywhere. I don't know. I never disposed of a body. I'm doing this for you. You're my first. Will be... at least. After you, I won't be a vir- ah ah vir... virgin."

"Jeffery," You shuttered. "That's stupid."

"Which part? The virg-"

"No, not that. The dump his body somewhere -that part." You rubbed your eyes. You can't believe what you're about to do. "It would ruin all of this-" You waved your hand around. "If anyone finds the body."

Jeffery hummed, "Then what would you do?"

"Take him with us. That way you could think of a better solution. We could come up with something better!" You blamed the Percs. But it was all you leading at this moment. "I-uh don't know. We could chop him up or... or um."

What the fuck are you supposed to do? What exactly could you do to keep Cody alive? Fuck! fuck! fuck! fuck?

You gathered Jeffery's collar at the scruff of his neck. You huffed into the space between you before breaching the surface tension. His lips were chapped against yours, thin and twitched at first contact. Cody stomped furiously, swinging forward and back until he tipped over on his wrist. You watched his head crack down on the pavement.

"If no one cares about two druggies. Then, no one would care if I had fucked someone before high tailing it. Maybe you could convince the police that I had an affair. Cody found out, and then he murdered me outside of town in the dark spooky woods." You inhaled deep as you climbed Jeffery's knee. "You're right... he's a bastard."

You settled your fingertips on his neck, cupping his Adam's apple. "I want him to suffer. And he should see me enjoy our new life. Starting with me pleasing you."

Jeffery's eyes dart to your chest as you lean over him to glare at the nothingness behind. You were stalling. You felt too weak to run or to put up a fight. Morning would come eons from now, it seemed.

You had to keep him here until then.

~ ~ ~

Jeffery had sat enamored at your little performance. He kept his eye trained on your spasming body as you rocked faster into his leg. He'd known your druggie boy-toy trained you to drip at the gulp of a Perc, but he didn't expect to reap the benefits so soon. His brain fogged as the butterfly kisses you swept over his collarbone came up to his ear.

His mouth salivated at the faintest breath. He trembled as you bit his ear with tender care. Jeffery convinced himself of your love. This had to mean you loved him back. You had chosen him in the end over the waste of human parts. Your ex didn't use his eyes to watch anime nor did he jack off to big-breasted waifus. His dick had never spurt ropes of sperm into the air at watching a 2D woman leaking men's cum.

Not like Jeffery did. And all those nights felt like preparation for the day you saw him in his truest light. One which can now be actualized!

He would no longer be a virgin. Thanks to you.

Jeffery compared himself to Cody who had never had to imagine the subtle dips of a woman's hips as he did. He saw how the Baka would greedily smack your flesh. He knew that Baka had felt your pulsating entrance around his unsavory shaft. Jeffery wished to rid you of the phantom touch of your ex by burying his face deep into your pussy.

He felt rushed to gather its aroma on his palette. If only you would let him. Jeffery felt too afraid to string you to his whim when you chased pleasure so eagerly from his body.

He wondered if you would even want him to. He could try taking the reigns. Yet your lips slotted over Jeffery's like water over ice. He had to stifle a pitiful whine. His brain short-circuited at each pass of your tongue over his teeth. Jeffery's hand searched frantically the globes on your chest. He came to twiddle with your nipples.

You circled your hips to the beat of his thumb pressing down on your peaks. It was too good to be true. This must've been in a dream that he carded away in the depths of his depravity.

Your pussy mound molded over his thigh, wetting his jeans. What a sweet dream. Jeffery planned to relive the moment in all future sex encounters. He'll be in his late seventies, jacking off to the memory.

It has been hours since that moment came to pass. Jeffery caved to your sly demands. Cody lived another day. He knew you.

However, you'll soon realize that this was a part of the plan. Jeffery needed you to kill the piece of shit. How else would you move on if you painted him out to be the monster? Jeffery couldn't have you glorify the fucker in death. You would twist the truth in your sweet little head. All Cody's abuse, a symbol of his love that he's dead.

Hopefully, you finish the Baka off sooner rather than later. Jeffery had designed the attic with only you and him in mind.

Jeffery wiped your swollen cheeks. You were a princess adorned above your Sailor Moon duvet. He felt his cock swell with need at your peaceful yet grief-stricken face.

Three's a crowd.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Thank you for reading! Request rules are here! Follow my ig = lil.thoughts.xo! Decided not to do the cosplay idea. Maybe in another fic not related to this concept. Wrote the ending in the dead of night bc I would've put it off.

Part One, Part Two

~ ~ ~

Tag list (y’all are depraved for wanting more)

@constellyations, @bladestits, @m1sscreep, @ilyquanxi, @opalineishere, @sakurashana

Will edit it later. Come back in 2 days, maybe I'll add an actual penetration scene. Or part 4, just smut, little plot. I get too into the plot thoooooo

[written-with-clouds]

I Found Love (Where It Wasn't Supposed To Be) Pt. 2

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen/ Rhaenyra's Daughter!Reader

Summary: You and Aemond had always been close, even after he lost his eye and your mom moved your family to Dragonstone. What will happen when your grandsire dies and Aegon takes the throne from your mother? Will you and Aemond be able to stay together? Or will family drive you apart?

Authors Note: Cross posted on AO3, Aemond and Reader are of legal age during all spicy scenes.

CW: Uncle/Niece, Secret Relationship, Minor Character is badly injured

Part 1 Part 3

You stand alongside your brothers, watching as your mother and Daemon burn your dead-born sister. Joffrey clings to your legs, unsure of the sadness that permeates the air, and you pet a hand soothingly through his mop of brown hair. A few stray tears running down your cheeks. 

The wind carries the sound of armored footsteps approaching. You turn, seeing a lone Kingsguard, not one of your own, carefully approaching your mother where she stands atop a small rocky hill. He bends the knee before her, holding out your late grandsire’s crown.

“I swear to ward the Queen, with all my strength… and give my blood for hers.” The Kingsguard starts, Daemon approaches him, taking the crown from his hands, as he continues. “I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall guard her secrets, obey her commands, ride at her side, and defend her name and honor.”

 You hold your breath, watching as Daemon slowly returns to your mother and gently places the crown upon her head. He kneels before her and you watch as the other inhabitants of Dragonstone follow, kneeling down before her in a show of fealty. You and your brothers follow suit, bowing your heads to your mother.

The next days go by in a blur. Jace is sent north to secure the support of House Stark and the Eyrie, Luke sent to Storm’s End. Rhaenys leaves on Meleys, to patrol over the barrier made to cut off all sea trade to King’s Landing. Beala patrols over Dragonstone with her sister, Rhaena, on their dragons. 

You, on the other hand, are left to watch your youngest brothers. You spend your days trying to entertain a seven year old Joffery, corral a four year old Aegon III, and keep a two year old Viserys II from eating loose stone. And even with the help of the wetnurses and maids, it is a daunting task. 

During the night, your mind wanders to Aemond. At first you were angry, fuming, at the fact that he could stand aside and let his brother usurp the throne. That he would then, in turn, ask you to leave your own family behind. Then, you were sad. You would sit in your bed night after night and reread all of the letters he had sent you over the years. From the beginning, when you had first moved to Dragonstone. When he had first asked to meet with you in private, in the very same spot you had just days ago said goodbye to him. To the few letters he had sent in the days following your last meeting. 

Meet me at the island, please. I need to see you one last time. 

I waited for you. I will wait again tonight. Please come.

I am to leave King's Landing tomorrow, please meet with me tonight. Kostilus, ñuha jorrāelagon, (Please, my love,). I will be waiting, as always.

I leave today. Avy jorrāelan (I love you)

Luke was the first of your brothers to return. 

He had been badly burned. The right side of his body had taken the brunt of it, the skin peeling and red. Arrax was only slightly better, his wings and scales singed and ash covered. Luke’s screams echoed throughout the whole of Dragonstone as the Maester’s worked to help him. After hours of listening to him cry and scream, you had had enough. 

You walked along the coastline, fighting to keep your composure. In the end, it was a losing battle. You screamed, chucking rocks into the ocean and kicking sand around until you exhausted yourself. Collapsing to the ground, you wailed. For you or for Luke, you couldn’t tell. You cried for what must have been hours, every frustration and tension leaving your body. Over time you tired, curling into yourself, your eyes drifting closed.

You woke up in your room, laying overtop the blankets of your bed, still clothed for the day. Glancing outside you could see that night had long taken over, the sky filled with a crescent moon and glittering stars.

“You’re awake,” you turn to find your mother sitting in a lounge chair by the hearth. Rhaenyra stands, walking over to you and placing the back of her hand against your forehead. “Are you feeling alright, darling? We hadn’t seen you for hours and then Ser Erryk had carried you inside. He said he found you on the shore, asleep and trembling.” Her voice was laced with worry. 

“I went for a walk to get some fresh air and grew tired.. I must have fallen asleep.” You say, “I’m sorry to have worried you.” 

She sits next to you on the bed, pulling you against her in a hug and petting your hair. “It’s alright darling, I’m just happy you're safe.” The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a while, listening to the sounds of the night. 

Rhaenyra speaking breaks the silence. At first, you don't realize she had asked you a question. But when she repeats herself, your blood runs cold. 

“You were close with your uncle Aemond… weren’t you?” You pull back from her, sitting up to look at your mother. 

“Why do you ask?” You inquire, heart beating loudly in your chest. 

“In truth, I’ve noticed that something has changed in you. I had no hope of knowing what it was without you telling me and had long resigned myself to not knowing… until tonight.” Your mother paused, standing from your bed and walking over to the small table next to the lounge she had been resting on. Your heart beats impossibly louder inside you as she picks up the letters Aemond had sent you. You had forgotten to put them away. “I read some of them… it’s nice.. that you had formed a good relationship with your uncle. You are perhaps the only one of us that could…” 

You watch as she measures her next words, thinking over the best way to say them. 

“But, I hope you will understand that this cannot and will not continue.” 

You stand abruptly, “What! Why? Because of Aegon? Because of this fight between you and Queen Alicent?” 

“Not just that dear.” She walks over to you, running her hands down your arms and grabbing your hands gently, “It’s–“ 

Interrupting her, pull your hands out of her grasp, walk out onto the balcony, and cross your arms over your chest. Turning to face her as she follows you, “It’s what? I need a reason, an explanation. A good one, not just some excuse about who his family is.”

“Aemond is the one responsible for Luke’s pain,” she says calmly. 

Whatever anger you held in that moment shattered. “He… n-no.. you’re lying! He may have had his problems with Luke when they were children.. but he’d never give that sort of command! Aemond wouldn’t do that!” You wrap your arms around yourself as you begin to pace. “It isn’t true,” you whisper as if trying to comfort yourself. 

Your mother stands in place, watching your inner battle. Her expression shows nothing but sympathy as she speaks again, “He didn’t just command it, dear..” Her words are gentle. 

You abruptly stop, facing away from your mother. “You don’t– He didn’t–“ you struggle to find the words, tears clouding your vision. 

“He… Aemond was the one to burn Luke.” Your mother’s words are drowned out by the ringing that fills your ears. Letting out a sharp cry, you drop to your knees sobbing. You jerk away from your mothers touch when she tries to console you with a hand placed on your shoulder. “Leave.” You whisper, crying into your hands. You listen as Rhaenyra’s footsteps recede and the door to your room opens and closes.

You didn’t leave your room for days… maybe even a full week. Servants brought food to you, even if most of it didn’t remain in your stomach. Most days you didn’t dress, remaining in your sleepwear and staring blankly out across the sea. When you weren’t transfixed on the water, you were sat at your desk. You wrote what must have been dozens of short letters, none of which would ever be sent. 

How could you?

Did your hatred for Luke outweigh your love for me?

Why did you do it? 

I hate you. 

I’ll never forgive you. 

I still love you.

It’s when Jace returns from the North that you finally decide to leave the safety of your room. Dressed for the first time in days, you join the council to welcome your brother, much to your mothers surprise. 

“Welcome home, Prince Jacaerys.” Your mother spoke warmly. “What news do you bring us?” 

Your brother bowed his head in greeting, one hand resting over top the hilt of his sword. “The Lady Jeyne Arryn has pledged her support to you. In return, she requests a dragon be sent for protection.” 

Your mother nods approvingly, “and the North?” 

“Lord Cregan Stark has promised two thousand men…” Jace hesitates slightly, glancing to you and then to your mother. 

“Does he request something in return?” You ask.

He nods, answering. “Yes, He asks for (Y/N)’s hand in marriage.” 

Your eyes widen and you watch your mother. Nothing in her expression gives away what she is thinking as she replies with a gentle, “Please send a raven North. Let Lord Stark know we will accept the terms of his offer.” 

“What?” You say loudly, “Mother you can’t be serious!” 

“We need to secure-“ Your mother starts, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

“-Secure all the support we can.” You finish for her. “I know. But marrying me off to someone… a stranger at that? Sending me North? You’re okay with that?!” 

She sighs deeply, placing her hand against the table. “Give us the room.” At her words, everyone in the room left. All but you and Jace, who hovered by the door, unsure of what to do. “Jacaerys, you may leave as well… go get cleaned up. Visit your brother.”

“Mother I–“ You start to say. After the door thuds shut behind your brother.

Rhaenyra shushes you, standing and walking over to you. Her jaw is clenched as she takes your hands in hers. Exhaling sharply through her nose and closing her eyes briefly to gather her thoughts. “I don’t want to send you away. I don’t want you to be seen as a prize or bargaining chip.” She reaches up to cup your face, “You are my daughter.. My first born… But I have to make choices I don’t want to make.” 

Her voice cracks and you can see a tear fall down her cheek. Your brow furrows as you step away from her, shaking your head in disbelief. “No…” you say softly, almost in a whisper. 

“We need the men,” She follows after you carefully, like you’re a wild animal that she is trying to tame. “The Starks are good people… they’re loyal and just… you’ll be safe there… protected.” 

“But I won’t be happy.” You spit. 

“You don’t know that..” Your mother bargains. 

“I will be miserable. I will be nothing more than a trophy won in a war. A bargaining chip. A piece of the puzzle. A pawn in your game to move as you wish!” You scream at her. 

She eyes you sympathetically, her expression holding nothing but pity. She sighs deeply before calling for Ser Erryk. “Take her to her room. She is not to leave Dragonstone until I have given explicit permission. I want one guard posted outside her door and her dragon is to be supervised at all hours. She goes nowhere without a guard or me. Am I understood?”

“Mother–“

“Yes, My lady.” Ser Erryk grabs your arm firmly, not enough to hurt but enough that you can’t twist out of it. He escorts you back to your room. Muttering a quiet apology before shutting the door.

You spent the next week pacing in your room. Throwing things against the door while screaming until your throat was raw. At first, your mother would try to visit only to be turned away with insults or ignored completely. Jace would sit with after night had fallen and update you on Luke’s recovery. The only happiness you felt was in hearing that Luke was fine. He would scar, but otherwise be okay. Even his walking was expected to recover nearly completely over time. These conversations were possibly the only reason you hadn’t gone insane. 

On the seventh day of your confinement, you overheard the guards outside your door speaking with each other. 

“How long do you think this’ll continue? I’m gettin’ bored of standin’ outside a door for hours.” One whispered. 

“Not much longer I think,” There was a long pause where all you could hear was the slight shifting of metal. “I heard that Lord Stark is sailin’ here to claim his prize.” The second guard jokes, groaning after what sounds like he got hit in the stomach. 

“Don’t speak about the Princess like that.. she could hear ya.” The first guard whisper-yells. 

At the mention of Stark, you paled. Your heart stuttered and your breathing increased. Stepping away from the door you rushed out to the balcony, hands gripping the short stone wall so hard you cut your hand in a few places. You can’t feel the pain though, as you struggle to catch your breath. Tears cloud your vision for the thousandth time in the past three weeks. Slumping to the floor as your legs give out, you draw them towards your chest. Wrapping your arms around them tightly. 

You sit there, gulp down whatever air you can for what feels like forever. You distantly hear a knock at your door. And another when you don’t answer. A few moments pass silently before the sound of a door opening startles you. You quickly push yourself backwards, attempting to hide within the shadows of the setting sun. Fearing that Lord Stark was closer than you assumed, that he had arrived at Dragonstone to take you. 

Instead, in the archway leading to your balcony stood Luke. He walked with wooden crutches to support his weight and he had bandages adorning his right leg and most of his right arm. He carefully made his way to you. Unable to crouch or kneel, he leans back against the short wall. 

Looking at you with concern and confusion, “What’s wrong.. am I so horribly disfigured that you hide from me?” He tries to joke. Hoping to lighten the mood and set you at ease.

You don’t move, only lifting your head to meet his eyes. “I can’t stay here…” you whisper, it’s barely audible over the breeze that passes through. When Luke doesn’t respond you speak again, “I need to leave… please Luke, I need help.. I can’t be forced into a marriage.. please– please help me..” you beg. 

Luke considers you for a moment, deep in thought, before he speaks again. Sighing loudly, “Fine…” he says finally. “Tonight, after the guards last check, tie your sheets together and anchor them to the balcony. Climb down them and get to the shore line on the far east, there is a small boat tied to some rocks. No one will see you with how dark it gets, and by the time they do you’ll be gone.” 

You take in his words, committing them to memory, before standing slowly. “Thank you, Luke..” You hug him, mindful of his wounds. 

By the time Luke leaves your room, the sun has set completely and the moon is visible. As he leaves, you thank him one last time and ask how he knew of the boat. Luke simply turns to look at you over his shoulder and mutters a quiet, 

“I have my secrets like everyone else.”

The moon was at its highest by the time you reached King’s Landing. You pulled the hood of your cloak over your head to conceal your face as you carefully walked through the streets. 

Quietly you slinked through hidden hallways of the Red Keep, following the same winding path you have for years. Stopping only once you stood in front of the familiar backing to a painting. You strained your ears, listening for movement in the room on the other side of the painting. When you heard nothing after several minutes, you slowly pushed the painting away from the wall and climbed out into the room. Before you can put the painting back into place, you’re shoved against the wall with a dagger placed at your throat. 

“I thought you’d be happy to see me..” You joke weakly. The dagger hits the floor with a loud clink and your hood is yanked off of your head. Hands grip your biceps tightly, as if afraid that you’ll run the second their grip loosens. 

“Is it– Are you really here?” Aemond whispers into the space between you. He isn’t wearing his eyepatch, the sapphire gem reflecting the light from the fireplace. 

You reach a hand up and gently trace along his scar, just as you had so many times in the past. You give him a small smile as tears well up in your eyes like they had so many times these past weeks. Although, unlike the other tears you’ve shed, these are tears of joy. 

“I’m here…” you reassure Aemond, resting your forehead against his. “I’ve missed you..”

Aemond breathes a sigh, his shoulders slumping as he relaxes. His hands move from your biceps, one cupping the side of your face and neck while the other rests against your hip. The two of you stand in silence, enjoying the peace of being near each other. Of being in the other's embrace. 

“I wrote to you…” he whispered.

“I know.” You respond equally as quiet. “I wrote many responses.. and even more questions… none of which I could bring myself to send.” 

Aemond took a shuddering breath, pulling back to look you in the eye. He cupped your face in both hands, his thumbs rubbing against your cheeks, “I’m sorry… about Luke, I– I didn’t mean to hurt him…” 

You shush him, bring your hands to rest on his forearms. “I believe you,”

He swallows, Adams apple bobbing, carefully asking “Did– is Luke… dead?” 

You’re shaking your head no before he finishes his question. “Luke is alive and healing. He will be fine.” 

Aemond nods. It’s a small, barely there, movement that had you not been so close to him you wouldn’t have seen it. 

As silence falls over the two of you once again, you gently remove his hands from your face. Releasing them only to remove your cloak. You grab one of Aemond’s hands and guide him to his bed, softly instructing him to lay down. You climb into the bed after him, curling up alongside his body with your head resting against his chest. He holds you against him with an arm around your back that rests on your hip. His other hand lays flat against his stomach. 

“Why did you come here?” Aemond asks. You can hear his heart beating against his chest, a dead giveaway to how unsure he is. “Why return to me? When I waited for you… I was sure I’d never see you again..” 

“I needed to leave…” you say simply. Your hand traces nonsense along his torso and over the back of his hand. “Dragonstone was becoming a prison…” 

You feel Aemond tense beside you. “What do you mean?” He asks carefully. 

You sigh deeply, “While my eldest brothers were off on their dragons, securing allies for our mother, I was stuck on Dragonstone babysitting my youngest brothers…” as if he can sense your hesitation in continuing, Aemond squeezes your arm reassuringly. “When Luke returned… my mother practically doubled the workload of the guards. Especially those that protected my brothers and I.. it was all very suffocating.” 

“And this caused you to leave?” He asked carefully. You shifted in his arms, propping yourself up on one elbow. 

“Yes… but not just that…” You trail off again, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. 

Aemond watched you worriedly as you swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat. “What is it, Issa jorrāelagon (my love)? What happened?”

“Lord Cregan Stark asked for my hand in marriage… and in return, he promised two thousand men. My mother accepted and, when I refused, she locked me inside my room.” Your jaw clenched as anger welled inside you, Aemond’s arm tightening around your waist. “I sat there for a week… trapped and miserable, with guards outside my door and under my balcony all day and all night. I could do nothing but sit and wait. When I heard that Lord Stark would soon be arriving.. I decided, for sure, that I needed to leave.. funny enough, it was Luke who helped.. whether or not he knew of us I couldn’t say…”

Aemond was quiet for a moment. Taking in what you had experienced, the fact that your own mother would do this surprised him. He expected it from his own mother… but he always assumed yours cared more for her children than Alicent. “What matters is that you are here now. And I will not let you go again.” Another beat of silence. “Marry me, Issa jorrāelagon (my love).” 

You breathe out a quick laugh gazing down at Aemond. “That alone would start a war, Aemond… our families would never allow it…”

“Then we won’t tell them.” He sits up hastily, nearly knocking his forehead against yours in the process. “We can leave. Leave Kings Landing… leave Dragonstone.. hells, even lease Westeros if need be.”

“Aemond–“ he continues to speak, cutting you off.

“We can start a new life together.. just us, our dragons… maybe a kid or two somewhere down the line..” 

“I–I would really like that..” you say, smiling dreamily as you imagine it. “We should leave soon.. they’ll notice I’m gone come sunrise..” 

“Then we will leave before that..” Aemond guides you to lay back against the bed, smirking as he kisses along your jaw.

“We should leave now.. no one is awake… no one would notice.” You whisper. You gasp as he licks along your neck. Your skin heats up from the warmth of his breath as he sucks against your pulse point, likely leaving a mark. You feel him hum a ‘no’ against your skin as he continues to kiss gently along your neck and collarbone. “Aemond~” you drawl. 

Stopping his assault on your neck, he lifts up to meet your gaze, “We will leave… as soon as I’ve had a taste of you..” 

Aemond returns his attention to your neck as his hands work deftly to remove your dress. The feel of the soft fabric sliding down and off of your body elicits goosebumps and the chill of the room hitting your skin causes you to shiver. Aemond kisses every newly exposed part of flesh, marking his way down your body. Sitting back in his heels, he tugs the dress off of your legs and tosses it aside. Your underwear follows suit. 

“This feels a little one sided,” you joke, looking through half lidded eyes. 

He simply laughs to himself, tugging his own shirt up over his head and tossing it to join your dress. His pants follow soon after along with his underwear. Quirking an eyebrow he smirks at you, “Better, issa jorrāelagon (my dear)?” He teases. 

Aemond hooks his arms under each of your thighs as he makes himself comfortable between them. He lays his hands flat against your stomach and gently kisses your inner thigh. You watch with bated breath as he sticks out his tongue and runs it through your folds. The tip barely manages to push inside you before it is removed again. He groans against you, the vibrations causing your hips to stutter. Aemonds hands held you in place, trapped against him as he devoured you like a starved man. 

“Aemond! Fuck.. oh gods, it feels good!” You moan. Despite the hold he has on you, your hips manage to grind against him with small circular motions. One hand fists the sheets below you as the other tangles into his hair. 

Aemond lifts his head to look at you, licking his lips before saying, “Nyke jorrāelagon se sylutegon hen ao, issa dōna (I love the taste of you, my sweet),” One of his hands shifts down so that his thumb lays overtop your clit. You gasp as he begins to circle his thumb around it. “It’s sweet and far more addictive than any wine in the whole of Westeros.” 

Your breath catches on a moan as Aemond continues to ravish you. He thrusts his tongue into you as far as it will go while his thumb quickly works over your sensitive clit. You writhe against him as you bring your hand up to cup your breast, flicking and pulling at your nipple. Your eyes shut as your head falls back against the pillows, back arching, as two fingers join his tongue. His fingers curl inside you, coaxing moans and shuddering gasps from your mouth. Heat pools in the bottom of your stomach as your climax rapidly approaches, Aemonds name falling from your lips like a prayer, begging for more. His tongue and fingers working in earnest as you writhe against him feverishly. The hand in his hair gripping and anchoring him against you. Your thighs tremble on either side of his head as your orgasm explodes through you. Your eyes rolling back and head falling limply to the side with a drawn out moan flowing from your mouth. 

Aemond works you through your climax, thumb gently rubbing over your clit as his tongue and fingers slowly continue to stretch your entrance. It isn’t until you’re whining and struggling against him from overstimulation, that he stops and pulls back. Making a show of sucking his fingers, soaked with your release, into his mouth and moaning around them before pulling them out with a pop. 

He looks over your body, skin glistening in the candle light. His eyes darken and he smiles. You meet his gaze as he crawls up the length of your body and captures your lips with his own. You moan into him, your tongues dancing against each other and you can taste yourself on him. Your arms wrap around his middle, hooking up to rake your nails down his back. You smirk into the kiss, hearing his sharp intake of breath and feeling his muscles spasm under your hands. You break the kiss, pulling his bottom lip with your teeth gently. He growls, chasing after your lips. You smile, chuckling lightly at his failed attempts to recapture your lips as you turn your face away from him. You position your mouth next to his ear, biting the lobe gently.

“Nyke jorrāelagon ao isse issa, sir (I need you in me, now).” You whisper into his ear before licking the shell of it. “Kostilus gaomagon daor mazverdagon issa umbagon (Please do not make me wait).” 

Aemond shifts above you reaching a hand down and running it through your folds before quickly fisting his cock, using your arousal to slick himself. He guides his length to your entrance, prodding against you. “Skorkydoso kostagon nyke vestragon daor skori ao epagon sīr sȳrī (How can I say no when you ask so well)?” 

Slowly, He pushes in. “You’re doing so well, issa jorrāelagon (my love).” Aemond praises. He runs his hands soothingly over your body, trying to help you relax as you adjust to his size. “You’re taking me so well… sīr vok (so perfect)... made just for me,” He groans, bottoming out inside you. 

He remains still, placing kisses against your shoulders, your jaw, your temple, any part of you his mouth could reach. Whispering praises into your ear and against your mouth as he kisses you softly. 

After a few moments of his gentle kisses and featherlight caresses, you shift your hips against him. “You- you can move now…” 

Aemond sets a slow pace. Languidly thrusting into you as he continued to kiss the exposed skin of your neck and shoulder. Your hands roam over the expanse of his torso, feeling the muscles shift under your touch with each roll of his hips. You move a hand up to cup the side of Aemond’s face, pulling him to you. You lightly press your lips to his scar before kissing his lips. Pulling away from the kiss, he rests his forehead against yours. His forearms, placed on either side of your head, support him as the two of you enjoy the feel of being so closely entwined. You roll your hips to meet his with every thrust in, moaning as you feel him sink deeper into you. 

As Aemonds arms tire, he repositions the two of you. He now lays behind you with his arms wrapped around your torso as he rocks into you from behind. In this position Aemond can freely run his hands over your body. One hand coming down to work over your clit, matching the speed of his thrusts. You cant your hips back against him as best you can, growing closer to release and seeking out more pleasure. The sound of Aemond’s breathy groans next to your ear only spurring you on. 

Aemond finishes first, hips stuttering as he releases inside you. His breath is hot on the back of your neck as he groans before panting against you. You follow soon after, climaxing around his cock as his hand still works over your clit. As your body relaxes into his, Aemond pulls out. 

He untangles himself from you, standing from the bed with a hushed promise of returning as your whine. When he does return, it’s with a rag and sleepwear. Aemond gently cleans his spend from between your legs before cleaning himself off. He tosses the rag into a wicker basket, quickly dresses himself and then helps your sluggish body into the garments. Finally, he climbs back into the bed behind you, pulling a blanket up over your bodies. 

You turn to face Aemond, tucking yourself against him as he wraps his arms around you once again. He kisses your forehead, whispering promises of the future you two will have. “Rest for now, issa jorrāelagon (my love), We’ll leave soon.” He whispered to you, his own eye feeling heavy. It wasn’t long until you both had drifted off to a peaceful sleep.

You stir slightly at the sound of a door opening and armored footsteps rushing into the room. In your sleep dreary state, you think nothing of it. Snuggling back against Aemond. 

It isn’t until you are being forcefully pulled from the bed that you comprehend that something is wrong. You scream and thrash against the man that is holding you, kicking your feet wildly and twisting your body to try and loosen his grip. The man's grip remains secure throughout your flailing, and eventually you give up.

Aemond is on his feet in seconds, dagger in hand, as he watches the men that had entered his room. Kings Guards. He scowls, taking notice of the several fully armored guards now standing in around him. His gaze shoots to where you stand when he hears you whimper. Shackles had been placed tightly around your wrists. Aemond starts to walk towards you, but is stopped by two Kings Guards as they each grab an arm. He fights against them, trying to pull his arms free only to stop at the sound of heels entering the room. 

“What is the meaning of this?” Aemond snarls, fighting against the guards' hold. 

“She is a traitor to the crown.” Queen Alicent responds calmly, her hands clasped in front of her. “We have it in good faith that she is here to either spy or harm the king and his family. Neither are risks I am willing to take.” 

“She is of no concern to you.” He manages to free one arm, “She will not harm anyone here, you have my word, mother. Let her go. She will leave Kingslanding and not return. This need not go any farther.” Aemond bargains, pleading with his mother with more emotion than Queen Alicent had seen from him. 

Queen Alicent considers her son for a moment, watching as his gaze shifts to yours. His eye softening as he tries to reassure you silently. The hand he had pulled free twitching at his side as if fighting to not reach for you. She turns her gaze to you, shaking slightly in fear but trying not to show it. Your eyes, wide as a doe, never leaving Aemond’s as you take in rapid breaths. 

“Take her to the dungeons,” She spoke authoritatively. 

“No!” Aemond roars, fighting harder against the guards trying to restrain him. 

“Aemond!” You say, panicking as the guards force you out of the room. Aemond yells, just barely managing to free his second arm before a guard punches him in the stomach. He doubles over with a groan, coughing roughly. 

Queen Alicent calmly walks over to him and places her hand against his cheek. “This is for the better, my dear. This will pass with time.” She quietly says before turning and leaving the room. The guards release Aemond and he drops to the floor. 

When the door to his room shuts, he slowly stands. Grabbing the nearest object, a vase of black and gold, he throws it as hard as he can. It smashes against the far wall of his room, shattering to pieces before it can even touch the ground. Aemond continues his rampage until there is no part of his room left untouched by his rage. Until he sees something laying on the floor.

Stopping dead in his tracks as he goes to smash another object, there on the floor lays your dress. Discarded carelessly earlier in the night, when Aemond still held you in his arms. 

The object clatters to the floor as Aemond follows, his knees giving out beneath him. Gently and with more care than he has ever shown to anyone but you, he lifts the garment in his hands. Bringing it to his face, he inhales. He can still smell your perfume, the hints of rose intertwining with the scent of ash wood from Dragonstone. 

Silent tears soak the fabric as Aemond cries, still holding the garment to him. He never thought himself a religious man, but in that moment, Aemond prayed. He prayed, to any god that would listen or care, for your safety. And that you would return to him.

Aemond stood on shaky legs and walked to his bed, uncaring in shards of glass cut his feet. He lay on top of his sheets, curled around your dress protectively. Aemond remains there, on the bed, crying silently until he is unable to keep his eye open.

Part 1 Part 3

[fics-arcs-version]

Shut Up and Drive - 812 words - NSFW ! ! !

Sirius was pouting. “Why can’t I drive, Moons? I’m a good driver. I got my muggle license and everything.”

Remus rolled his eyes, swinging the keys around his finger. “Because this is an expensive car and I don’t trust you.”

Sirius slid in through the driver’s side door, skirt hiking up as they slid to the passenger side. “But I’m an amazing driver!” “And I don’t fancy telling James after you crash his car.” He closed the door behind him and put the keys in the ignition. “Besides, it’s one night. You can drive some other time–put your damn skirt down.”

Sirius started to obey the command automatically before stopping, eyes lighting up like the fucking sun as Remus backed out of the parking spot. “Does it bother you, Moony?”

“No.” Remus grumbled. The full moon was close; Sirius could tell from the way Remus’ hands tightened around the steering wheel, how the hair on the back of his neck stood up. It was so–

“Sirius.” He snapped. “Put it down.”

“Am I distracting you, Remus?” Sirius batted their eyelashes, relishing in the way Remus’ jaw tightened.

“Sirius. I’m–can you just listen?” His voice cracked at the top, and Sirius’ grin widened.

They slid down in the seat, letting the skirt slide up higher. It was lilac and tulle, and they wore a white crop top with it that only revealed the slightest sliver of skin.

“You’re such a brat.” Remus grumbled, reaching over to put a hand on Sirius’ thigh, only to have his hand smacked away.

“You wanted to drive so bad.” Sirius twirled their hair. “Shut up and drive, Moony.”

“Sirius–”

“I said, shut up and drive.”

Oh, Sirius was in so much trouble for this later. They could tell by the way the vein in Remus’ neck bulged–among other things.

“Sirius–I’m going to kill you.” He hissed as Sirius squirmed to sit on one knee, tying their hair behind their head with a purple ribbon.

“I know, aren’t I just the worst person you ever did see?”

Remus made a grumbly noise deep in his throat that turned Sirius on more than they’d care to admit.

“I’m pulling over.”

“Wh–What?” Sirius’ voice cracked. “We aren’t home yet. We’re in the middle of nowhere!”

“Well, you should’ve thought of that sooner.” Remus pulled off the side of the road, easing the car into the grass. The ignition was barely turned off before Sirius was yanked forward with a yelp.

“You’re–so–annoying.” Remus tugged the bow out of Sirius’ hair with a tug, before wrapping it around their wrists, tugging them behind their back.

“Oh. So… there’s no getting out of trouble?” Sirius asked sheepishly.

“Remember the safeword?” Remus asked, tightening the knot.

“Mhm.”

“Other than that, no, no other way out.”

Sirius accepted their fate as they were shoved on their stomach on the seat with a thud. “Rude.” They grumbled, yelping when Remus smacked their ass, reprimanding.

“You’re a little bloody shit.” He spat, shoving Sirius’ skirt up and their underwear down.

“I’m sorry, Moony.” They mumbled into the cool leather of the seat.

“You’re just sorry because you’re in trouble.”

“Yeah.”

Another smack, this time to their bare ass, and Sirius jolted. “Ow!”

“Hush. You know you deserve this.”

Sirius pressed their cheek into the seat. Well… yeah, they did.

They whined as he felt one of Remus’ fingers working inside of them, then another. “Remus…” They whimpered, admittedly so very weak for Remus’ hands.

“No.” Remus gave another resounding smack that made a second whimper slip out.

“I’ll–I’m so good–I’ll be so good–I’m–I’m so–Remus–”

“Shh.” Remus soothed, the soft noise of his trousers coming unzipped.

The leather squeaked softly as Remus positioned himself over Sirius, sliding in quickly enough to make Sirius cry out and bite their tongue.

His pace was ruthless and unforgiving, the only soothing thing being the occasional whispers of, “Good girl. You’re being so good.” which was frankly enough to make Sirius see stars.

If Sirius saw stars before they came, he saw a whole galaxy when they finally did.

The noise that escaped them didn’t even sound human to his own ears, something raw and untamed about it as they reached their climax and Remus worked them slowly down.

“James is going to kill us.” Remus snorted, slipping Sirius’ lacy white underwear back on.

“Why…” they mumbled, fucked out and spacey.

“Because you made a mess all over his seat.”

“... Oh. Shit, sorry.” he squirmed to shit up–as much as one can when they can barely feel their legs.

“Not my car, pretty girl.” He kissed their head. “And you did so well. Never tease me like that when I’m driving again.”

Sirius grinned that stupid broad grin of theirs as Remus tugged the ribbon wrapped around his wrists off, and they both knew that rule wouldn’t be followed.

[muiitoloko]

Hi I hope you are doing well? 😊 I was wondering if I could request a Judge Turpin x shy 21 one year old reader who is his wife. Perhaps a smut fic with Richard making love to the reader for the first time and putting her at ease? Maybe she is nervous. I hope that makes sense if not I completely understand! I love your writing SO much!!! 💕

Title: To Have and To Hold

Summary: Judge Turpin is a man of absolute control, but his new bride’s untouched innocence threatens to unravel the beast within.

Pairing: Judge Turpin × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut, Loss of virginity.

Author's Notes: Thank you for your request! I don't think I did exactly what you asked, but I hope you like it 🫶

Also read on Ao3

The grand chamber was dimly lit, the flickering candlelight casting elongated shadows across the richly adorned walls. Judge Richard Turpin sat impatiently at the edge of his grand, mahogany bed, clad in his nightshirt, his fingers tapping against his thigh as he waited. He had spent the entire day enduring the tiresome spectacle of his own wedding, tolerating the prying eyes and hushed whispers of the guests, all while longing for this moment—the moment when he would finally claim you as his.

And yet, you were taking an eternity.

He clenched his jaw, his hazel eyes dark with expectation as he listened to the sounds from the adjoining room—the rustling of fabric, the soft murmurs of the housemaids as they stripped you of your wedding dress, unpinned your hair, and readied you for him. He had chosen the nightgown himself—a delicate white thing, thin as mist, made to drape over your form in a way that left little to the imagination. You were his wife now, and he would have you look the part.

At last, the door creaked open.

You stood in the threshold, hesitant, your head bowed, hands clenched together in front of you as though to shield yourself from his gaze. You looked every bit the shy, trembling virgin he had married just hours ago, your innocence practically radiating from you. His gaze swept over you, dark with satisfaction.

“Come here, little dove,” he murmured, his baritone voice commanding, filled with quiet hunger.

You hesitated for only a moment before obeying, stepping forward with slow, careful steps until you stood before him. You refused to meet his gaze, staring at the floor like a frightened child, your breath unsteady.

Turpin would have none of it.

With a firm grasp, he took your hand and pulled you between his legs, forcing you closer, close enough that he could feel the heat of your body beneath the sheer fabric of your nightgown. He tilted his head, his hooked nose mere inches from your cheek as he studied you, his lips curling at the sight of your trembling form.

“There’s no need for this foolish shyness,” he murmured, his fingers trailing up your arm, feeling the way your skin prickled under his touch. “You are my wife now. You belong to me.”

You shivered but nodded, though your eyes remained averted. He exhaled sharply, displeased.

“Look at me.”

Your breath hitched, but slowly, you lifted your gaze, your wide, innocent eyes meeting his. Turpin’s grip on your wrist tightened just slightly, his lips twitching in approval.

“There’s a good girl,” he praised, his voice deep, rich, smooth as velvet. “Now… remove this.” His fingers ghosted over the delicate fabric of your nightgown.

Your hands trembled as you reached for the ties, hesitating, fumbling with the knot. Turpin watched, his patience thinning with every passing second, before he finally reached up and did it himself, pulling at the strings and letting the garment slip from your shoulders.

You gasped, instinctively crossing your arms over your chest, but he tutted in disapproval, gripping your wrists and lowering them.

“Do not hide from me,” he chastised, his voice thick with authority. “I will have every inch of you.”

Heat burned through your cheeks as you stood bare before him, exposed, vulnerable. His eyes darkened as they roamed your body, drinking in every soft curve, every untouched part of you.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, his hands sliding up your sides, over the swell of your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. “So pure. So perfect.”

Turpin's grip was firm, unyielding, as he pulled you forward, guiding you to straddle his lap. A soft gasp escaped you as you felt the unmistakable press of his arousal beneath his nightshirt, thick and unrelenting, nestled between your trembling thighs.

“Ah, there’s a good girl,” he murmured, his baritone voice smooth as sin, one hand resting heavy on your waist, the other sliding up your bare back. His fingers trailed up your spine, eliciting a shudder from you, before gripping the nape of your neck possessively. His hazel eyes darkened, his hooked nose nearly brushing yours as he studied you.

His free hand moved between your thighs, his fingers pressing against the untouched heat of you, testing, teasing. You let out a soft whimper, shifting instinctively, but there was nowhere to go—he held you firm against him, a cruel smirk tugging at his lips.

“So skittish,” he mused, his fingers caressing your inner thighs, deliberate and slow. “Tell me, little dove… what do you know of this? Of what is to happen between a husband and his wife?”

You swallowed hard, your gaze dropping to his chest, unable to meet his eyes. “I…” Your fingers curled against his shoulders, your body stiff with apprehension. “I was told… that the first time will hurt. But in time, it will become easier.”

Turpin made a noise in his throat, somewhere between amusement and satisfaction. His fingers tightened against your flesh, his palm now fully cupping the heat between your legs, pressing against you with cruel intent.

“And?” he pressed, his voice like silk-wrapped steel.

Your breath hitched, your face burning. “And that… sex is for my husband's fun. His pleasure.”

Turpin chuckled, low and dark, his grip on your nape tightening just slightly, forcing you to stay where you were. “Is that so?” he mused, his other hand moving to your breast, pinching your nipple between his fingers. A gasp slipped from your lips, your back arching instinctively at the sharp sensation.

He tugged again, this time rougher, making you whimper. His hazel eyes remained fixed on your body, his expression unreadable. “Your husband's fun, indeed,” he murmured, his thumb swiping lazily over the hardened bud. “And what of your pleasure, little one?”

You hesitated, unsure how to answer. No one had ever spoken of that.

Turpin huffed, shaking his head as if the notion was foolish. “No matter,” he said dismissively, his fingers trailing down your stomach, pausing just above where you ached, teasing, tormenting. “It is your first time, after all. A rare occasion. So I will be… generous.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as he shifted, his hands gripping your thighs, urging you off his lap and onto the bed. The flickering candlelight cast dark shadows across his face as he knelt before you, spreading your legs apart with a commanding touch. Your breath caught in your throat, panic and anticipation warring inside you.

He leaned in, his hooked nose trailing along the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh, his warm breath ghosting over your untouched core. “Do not get used to this, little dove,” he murmured against your skin, his baritone voice thick with warning. “I am not in the habit of lowering myself for a woman’s pleasure.”

And yet, as his tongue flicked against you, tasting you for the first time, he let out a deep, guttural groan of satisfaction. His grip on your thighs tightened, holding you open as he savored you, his cruel mouth working you with an expertise that made your body quake.

Your fingers fisted in the sheets, your whimpers turning into gasping moans as he feasted on you, as if he had every intention of devouring you whole. The sensation was overwhelming—wicked and sinful, pleasure unlike anything you had ever known.

He was methodical, precise, dragging you higher and higher until your body was trembling, until your breath came in ragged little pants.

The sensation was too much. Overwhelming. Wicked.

Your body tensed and trembled beneath his mouth, your thighs twitching with every precise, merciless flick of his tongue. You had never felt such a thing before—this growing heat, this unbearable pleasure building and building until you thought you might shatter. It frightened you.

Whimpering, you tried to move away, sliding weakly across the bed, but Judge Turpin would not allow it. His large hands clamped down on your thighs, dragging you back to him with ease.

“Where do you think you are going, little dove?” he murmured against your sensitive flesh, the vibrations of his deep, baritone voice sending another jolt of pleasure through you. “I am not finished with you.”

Your breath hitched, and you gasped as he resumed his torment, his hooked nose brushing against you as his wicked mouth continued its sinful work.

You couldn’t fight it.

Your back arched, your fingers tangling in his thick hair as your body betrayed you, pushing you closer, keeping his mouth exactly where you needed it. You were lost—helpless to the waves of pleasure crashing over you.

And Turpin… he let you.

The cruel judge watched you, his hazel eyes dark with hunger as he studied your every reaction, the sight of your face contorted in bliss only fueling his ego. He had chosen well. You were everything he wanted—pure, untouched, and now, utterly ruined by his mouth.

A deep, guttural groan escaped him as you shattered, your body seizing as your first orgasm tore through you like lightning. You cried out, gripping his hair tighter, grinding against his tongue as wave after wave of pleasure consumed you.

It was intoxicating.

And Turpin relished in every second.

Only when you fell back against the bed, gasping for air, did he finally relent, pulling away and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his lips curling in satisfaction. He gave you a moment, watching as your chest rose and fell in erratic breaths, your skin glowing with the aftershocks of pleasure.

But he was not done.

Not even close.

Catching the edge of his nightshirt between his teeth, he tugged it up, revealing himself to you for the first time.

Your breath caught in your throat.

His thick cock stood rigid in his grasp, his large hand spreading the slick pre-cum along his length with slow, deliberate strokes.

Your face burned as you watched, unable to look away, enraptured by the rhythmic motion of his hand.

Turpin didn’t notice your hesitation at first, his focus entirely on himself. His mouth remained full of the fabric of his nightshirt, holding it up as he palmed his thick cock, his hazel eyes watching his own motions with a detached sort of interest. He was in no rush, stroking himself with slow, deliberate movements, lost in the sensation.

You swallowed hard, your cheeks burning. You had never seen a man like this before—naked, aroused, powerful. If it were up to Turpin, he would be the only man you ever saw like this. The thought sent a shudder through you.

Then, suddenly, he looked up. His sharp gaze locked onto yours, and for the first time, he registered the way you were shrinking away, inching backward on the bed, your fingers clutching the sheets as if they could protect you.

His jaw clenched.

“Where do you think you’re going?” His baritone voice was smooth, but laced with warning.

You swallowed, shifting further back, your heart pounding. “I—I don’t want to feel pain,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

For a moment, Turpin was silent, his hooked nose flaring slightly as he studied you, his dark gaze searching your face. Then, with an irritated huff, he spat out the fabric of his night, letting it fall back down to cover his length as he reached for you.

You yelped softly as his large hand wrapped around your ankle, pulling you back toward him with ease. His grip was firm, unyielding, but there was no cruelty in it—only determination. He did not drag you roughly, did not yank you into place as he might a criminal before his bench. No, this was different. His hold was possessive, but not brutal.

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Foolish girl,” he murmured, his voice dipping into something that almost sounded like… reassurance. “Yes, there will be pain. That is inevitable.” His fingers tightened slightly around your ankle before sliding up your calf, then your thigh. “But it will pass. It will not stay.”

Your breath hitched as he leaned closer, his hooked nose nearly brushing your cheek, his lips hovering just above your ear. “And after the pain,” he continued, his voice dropping to a dark whisper, “there will be pleasure.”

Your fingers twitched against the sheets, your body stiff. “How—how do you know?”

Turpin exhaled, his lips curling slightly. “Because, little dove,” he murmured, “I know a great many things. I have had women before.” His hand slid further up your thigh, pausing just at the apex, his fingers splayed possessively against your bare skin. “But you…” His voice darkened, thick with something deeper, more primal. “You will be different.”

You shivered. “Why?”

His hazel eyes burned as they met yours. “Because you are mine.”

The weight of those words sent a shudder through you, one you could not suppress. You bit your lip, still hesitant, still afraid.

Turpin saw it.

For once, he did not scoff at your innocence, did not chide you for your trembling. Instead, he reached for your hand, guiding it slowly—deliberately—to his covered cock. Your fingers twitched as they met the hard, heated length beneath the fabric of his nightshirt.

He groaned softly at the contact, his grip tightening over your hand. “There,” he murmured, his voice thick. “Feel it. Explore.”

You hesitated, your fingers trembling slightly as you let them trace the outline of him. He was… big. Thick. Hard in a way that made your stomach tighten with something foreign, something frightening.

Turpin let out a slow breath, watching you through lidded eyes, his patience—rare as it was—surprisingly intact. “Do not be afraid,” he muttered, pressing your palm more firmly against him. “This is what will fill you soon. What will make you mine in every sense of the word.”

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding.

“You fear pain,” he continued, his tone softer now, coaxing. “That is natural.” His hand moved over yours, guiding your fingers along the ridge of his arousal, letting you feel him fully. “But I will not be cruel to you. Not in this.”

You glanced up at him, unsure. “You—you promise?”

For a long moment, he said nothing. His hazel eyes searched yours, as if weighing his own words, as if considering whether he could make such a promise at all.

Then, finally, he nodded.

“Yes,” he murmured. “I promise.”

And, against all logic, you believed him.

Your fingers still trembled, but they were no longer frozen in fear. Slowly, tentatively, you let them wander, your palm smoothing over the hard length beneath his night, feeling the heat of him even through the fabric.

Turpin did not speak. He merely watched, his hazel eyes dark and intense as he observed your every movement, his breath measured but not unaffected. You could feel the subtle rise and fall of his chest, the way his body tensed beneath your touch, but he did not command you this time. He let you explore.

Growing bolder, your fingers curled around him properly, feeling the firm weight of him in your palm. He was thick, intimidatingly so, the sensation foreign to you yet strangely captivating. Your thumb traced the ridge of his length, following the shape, marveling at how something so rigid could still feel so warm, so alive.

A deep, shuddering breath escaped him, but he remained still.

Then, hesitantly, you let your hand slip beneath the hem of his nightshirt.

The moment your fingers made contact with bare skin, Turpin inhaled sharply. You felt the heat of him, the smooth skin stretched over solid muscle, pulsing beneath your touch. Your fingers traced along the underside, mapping him, memorizing. He twitched in your grasp, and a quiet, approving grunt rumbled from his throat.

Encouraged, you explored further.

Your fingers drifted lower, cupping him fully now, letting your palm press against the soft, heavy weight of his balls. The texture was different—more delicate than you had expected, yet undeniably firm. When you squeezed, testing, a strange, guttural noise tore from his throat.

You stilled immediately, your breath catching. Had you hurt him?

Turpin's fingers wrapped around your wrist, not in anger, but in reassurance. He let out a slow, controlled breath through his nose, his hooked nose flaring slightly before his lips curled into something between amusement and satisfaction.

“No,” he murmured, his baritone voice thick with something almost… indulgent. “You did not hurt me.”

You frowned, still unsure, but he leaned in, his hand tightening ever so slightly around yours, keeping it where it was.

“Quite the opposite, little dove,” he admitted, voice dropping lower. “I liked it.”

Your cheeks burned at his words, but you did not withdraw this time. Instead, you watched as Turpin's expression darkened with something raw, something primal.

And then, without warning, he reached for the collar of his nightshirt and tore it open.

The fabric gave way under his grip, the loose ties snapping as he yanked the garment from his shoulders and tossed it aside.

Your breath caught in your throat.

For the first time, you saw all of him.

He was… broad. Thick in every way a man could be—strong arms, solid chest dusted with dark hair, a soft belly that only made him look more imposing, more powerful. His thighs were thick, sturdy, built for dominance, for claiming. And between them, standing proud and rigid, was the source of your apprehension and fascination alike.

Your eyes widened, a strange mix of fear and intrigue washing over you as you stared at his bare, naked form.

Turpin smirked at your expression, the corner of his mouth twitching with cruel amusement. “See something you like, little dove?” he mused, voice dark and teasing.

He loomed over you, his broad form nearly engulfing yours as he shifted on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. It should have been suffocating, should have left you breathless with fear, but instead, it filled you with something else entirely—something wicked and thrilling. His body was warm against yours, solid and imposing, his presence an inescapable force that left you trembling beneath him.

His hazel eyes were dark with hunger as he braced himself on his forearms, his hooked nose mere inches from your face. You could feel his breath, warm and steady, ghosting over your lips as he studied you, drinking in the sight of your flushed cheeks, your parted lips, the way your chest rose and fell in erratic little gasps.

“Such a delicate little thing,” he murmured, his baritone voice thick with satisfaction. “Soft… untouched… and all mine.”

His lips found yours before you could respond, claiming them in a slow, deliberate kiss. His mouth was firm, coaxing rather than demanding, as if savoring the taste of you, learning every trembling breath, every hesitant sigh. You whimpered against him, shy but eager, your fingers curling against his shoulders as you melted beneath his touch.

Turpin hummed in approval, deep and rumbling, as he pressed closer, his body aligning with yours in a way that made your skin burn. You felt him—thick and heavy, nestled between your thighs, not yet inside you but teasing, tormenting. He rolled his hips slowly, dragging the rigid length of his cock against your folds, coating himself in your wetness, making you gasp as the friction sent little jolts of pleasure through you.

“Ah,” he murmured against your lips, his voice dripping with amusement, “there’s a good girl.”

You moaned softly as he did it again, slow and deliberate, the head of his cock gliding along your slick heat, pressing against your entrance but never pushing in. His restraint was maddening, the teasing friction making your body arch beneath him, your hips lifting instinctively as if pleading for more.

Turpin chuckled, dark and low, his hooked nose brushing along your cheek as he whispered, “So eager, little dove… and yet, I have not even taken you.”

You whimpered, your body betraying you as you tried to push against him, seeking more of the delicious friction he so cruelly withheld. But he held you firm, one hand gripping your hip possessively as he continued his slow, torturous movements.

“Patience,” he murmured, his voice laced with wicked amusement. “I made you a promise, did I not?”

You barely heard him, too lost in the overwhelming sensation of his cock sliding against you, teasing that aching, untouched place that yearned for him. Your breath hitched as he pressed against your entrance once more, stretching you just slightly before pulling back, denying you again.

A whimper escaped you, desperate and needy, and Turpin groaned at the sound. His grip on you tightened, his control slipping just a fraction. “You feel it, don’t you?” he rasped, his voice rougher now, his restraint growing thinner. “How perfectly you fit around me, even like this… your body begging me to take what is mine.”

You moaned, your thighs trembling as his words sent a fresh wave of heat through you. He was right—you did feel it. Even with just this teasing, this agonizing torment, you could feel how right it was, how you were made to take him.

Turpin groaned as he rolled his hips again, rubbing against your swollen, aching clit, making you gasp. “Christ,” he muttered, his forehead pressing against yours. “You’re so wet for me, little one.”

Your face burned at his words, but you could not deny them. You could feel it—the slick heat coating his cock, the way your body opened for him, preparing for him.

Turpin smirked at your silence, pressing a lingering kiss to your cheek, then your jaw, then down to the delicate skin of your throat. “Are you afraid?” he asked, his voice softer now, a whisper of something almost… tender.

You hesitated, your fingers tightening against his shoulders. “A little,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

He exhaled, his breath hot against your skin. “Good,” he murmured. “You should be.”

And yet, his next kiss was gentle, almost soothing, as his free hand caressed your side, tracing slow, reassuring circles along your hip.

“Do you trust me?” he asked suddenly, his voice lower now, the weight of the question settling between you.

You swallowed, your heart hammering. You should not. He was cruel, wicked, powerful. And yet…

“Yes,” you whispered.

Turpin let out a slow breath, his hazel eyes burning as they met yours. He pressed a deep, lingering kiss to your lips before pulling back just enough to speak.

“Then let me ruin you, little dove.”

And with that, he pushed forward—just an inch, just enough to make you gasp as he stretched you, filling you with the first taste of what was to come.

The pain was sharp at first—exactly as you had feared. Your fingers dug into Turpin’s broad shoulders as he slowly sank into you, stretching you beyond what you thought possible. Your breath hitched, your thighs trembling as he sheathed himself deeper, inch by slow inch, his thick cock forcing your untouched body to accommodate him.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you gasped, clinging to him, your nails biting into the flesh of his shoulders. “You promised,” you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper, trembling with pain and apprehension. “You promised.”

Turpin exhaled sharply, his breath hot against your ear as he stilled inside you, his hooked nose grazing along your cheek. “I did,” he murmured, his voice low, soothing despite the wickedness that always laced his tone. His lips brushed the shell of your ear, his baritone voice dripping into your skin like honey. “And I keep my promises, little dove.”

His large hands caressed your sides, moving with a slow, deliberate patience that you had not expected from him. He drew back, easing his thick length out of you, only to press forward again, gentle but unyielding. The pain was still there, a dull ache that throbbed through your core, but his slow, careful movements allowed you to adjust, to breathe through it.

He kissed your temple, his lips surprisingly warm against your sweat-dampened skin. “The pain will pass,” he whispered, his voice a steady rhythm against your ear. “Your body will learn.”

You whimpered, clenching around him instinctively as he pushed deeper, filling you in a way that felt impossibly overwhelming. He groaned at the feeling, his breath hitching slightly as he fought to maintain his control.

“It’s too much,” you gasped, shifting beneath him, unsure if you wanted to pull away or press closer.

Turpin chuckled darkly, one large hand smoothing over your trembling thigh. “No, little one,” he murmured, his voice rich with satisfaction. “It’s just enough.”

And then, something changed.

The pain remained, but beneath it, another sensation began to bloom—foreign, strange, but not unwelcome. The friction of his thick cock dragging inside you sent a new kind of shiver through you, not of fear or pain, but of something deeper, something dangerous.

Your breath stuttered as he rolled his hips, his pace unhurried, almost lazy, as if savoring the way your body slowly accepted him. The brush of his chest against yours sent an unexpected jolt through you—his coarse chest hair grazing against your sensitive nipples, igniting something sharp and startling in your belly.

You gasped, your fingers twitching against his shoulders.

Turpin smirked against your ear, his hooked nose trailing along your flushed cheek. “Ah,” he murmured, his voice thick with amusement. “You feel it now, don’t you?”

You bit your lip, unwilling to speak it aloud, but your body betrayed you. Your hips shifted slightly, just enough to push him deeper, just enough to feel the full weight of him pressing against something inside you that made your toes curl.

Turpin groaned, his control slipping as he tightened his grip on your waist. “So eager for a girl who was just whimpering for mercy,” he teased, his voice a rough whisper against your ear. His lips found your throat, his teeth grazing the delicate skin there before he kissed his way down to your collarbone. “Are you learning, little dove?”

You moaned softly, your breath uneven as your body adjusted, as the sharp edges of pain dulled into something more bearable—something strangely intoxicating. His thick member stretched you, filled you in a way that sent tingling heat through your limbs.

Turpin chuckled, his hips rolling in slow, deep strokes, pulling almost all the way out before sinking back in, ensuring you felt every inch of him. “You were made for this,” he murmured against your skin. “Made to take me.”

Your fingers trailed hesitantly down his back, your nails grazing his skin as your body instinctively clenched around him. The movement made him groan, his hips stuttering for just a moment before he resumed his slow, controlled thrusts.

“God, you feel perfect,” he muttered, his voice rougher now, less composed. “So tight, so warm… you take me like you were meant for this.”

The burn had faded now, replaced by something deeper, something deliciously sinful. The press of his body against yours, the way his chest hair rasped against your peaked nipples, the way his cock found that aching spot inside you with every thrust—it was all too much.

A soft moan escaped you, your back arching as your fingers clutched at his shoulders, no longer in fear, but in need.

The candlelight flickered against the grand chamber’s stone walls, casting long, shifting shadows that swayed in rhythm with Turpin’s slow, deliberate thrusts. He was holding back—barely. Every muscle in his broad frame was taut with restraint, his fingers gripping your hips with bruising intensity as he forced himself to keep his promise.

But, dear God, you made it difficult.

Your untouched, tight little cunt wrapped around him like a silken vice, warm and slick, gripping his cock so perfectly it made him dizzy. He had slept with women before—many, from the most seasoned courtesans to trembling, inexperienced virgins—but none of them, none of them, had ever felt like this.

This was what men killed for.

This was what he had read about in those lurid, scandalous books from his office—the kind that detailed the type of woman who could ruin a man, who could make a man lose his reason, his empire, his very soul. A cunt so perfect that it turned even the most ruthless of men into possessive, obsessed beasts, desperate to claim, to own, to keep.

And God help him, he was beginning to understand.

Turpin exhaled sharply through his hooked nose, his hazel eyes dark, nearly black, as he watched himself disappear into you, inch by slow inch. His lips were raw from biting down on them, suppressing the guttural, animalistic groans that threatened to escape. He had promised you patience, had sworn not to hurt you, but Christ, it was taking every ounce of his control not to lose himself in you entirely.

His fingers flexed against your thighs as he bottomed out, sinking as deep as your untouched body would allow, his thick cock stretching you impossibly wide. Your breath hitched, a soft, helpless whimper spilling from your lips as you trembled beneath him.

His control wavered.

His hands snapped up to your wrists, pinning them above your head against the plush bedding, his grip firm but not cruel. His breath was ragged as he loomed over you, his broad frame casting you in shadow.

"Christ, little dove," he rasped, his baritone voice thick with barely restrained hunger. "You feel… you feel fucking perfect." He rarely cursed, but the words tore from his throat before he could stop them.

You gasped, your body tensing around him at his unexpected vulgarity, and that only made him groan, his fingers tightening around your wrists.

"So tight," he murmured, his hooked nose brushing along your jawline as he rolled his hips, just once, testing, savoring. "So warm." His lips curled into something dark, something dangerous. "Like you were made for this." He thrust forward—slow, torturous—his breath stuttering as he felt your walls flutter around him.

He bit his lip again, a bead of sweat trailing down his temple as he fought the urge to ruin you in a single, merciless stroke. God above, he wanted to. He wanted to wreck you, to push you down and take you like an animal, to claim you so completely that no man—no man—would ever dare look at you again.

And he could. You were his wife now, bound to him in the eyes of the law, in the eyes of God. You belonged to him, body and soul, to do with as he pleased.

But still… he had promised.

He groaned, shifting his grip, letting one of his hands slide down, down, until his fingers found the place where your bodies joined. His touch was firm as he pressed against the swollen bud at the apex of your folds, rubbing slow, deliberate circles.

Your gasp was sharp, your thighs twitching as a new kind of pleasure tore through you.

"Shh," he murmured, pressing his forehead to yours, his breath hot against your lips. "There now, little dove. You feel that?" Another slow, precise stroke against your clit, and you shuddered, your fingers clenching into the bedding. "That is what will make the pain fade."

He dragged his cock almost entirely out of you, only to slide back in with agonizing slowness, watching with rapt fascination as your expression flickered between pain and something else—something warmer, something deeper.

"Yes," he groaned as your hips shifted, as you hesitantly began to move with him. "That's it. Take what I give you." He dropped his head to your neck, his lips ghosting over your pulse as he growled, "Take all of me."

Your breathing grew erratic, your body struggling to accommodate the thick intrusion still stretching you beyond your limits. But the pain was dulling now, melting into something unfamiliar, something… intoxicating.

Turpin felt it. He felt the moment your body accepted him fully, the moment pleasure began to override pain.

And that was it.

His restraint snapped.

A guttural moan tore from his throat as he finally let himself move, slow but forceful, his thick length sliding in and out of you in deep, claiming strokes. His fingers pressed harder against your clit, determined to coax you into bliss, to ensure your body knew—remembered—who had made it feel this way.

"God damn you," he rasped, his jaw clenched as he lost himself in the feel of you, in the way you squeezed around him, in the heat, the wetness, the absolute perfection of it. His hooked nose trailed along your throat, inhaling the scent of your sweat, your innocence, your surrender. "Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?"

You whimpered, your body writhing beneath his, your breath stuttering as his thrusts grew more urgent, more demanding.

"I should never have touched you," he ground out, his lips brushing against your ear as his pace increased. "I should have let you stay innocent. But now…" His hips snapped forward, sharp and deliberate, tearing a moan from your lips. "Now you belong to me. And no man—no man—will ever take you from me."

His grip on your wrists tightened as his thrusts grew rougher, deeper, his need overtaking him entirely. "You feel that?" he groaned, his voice breaking as he slammed into you, his cock hitting just the right spot inside you. "That is what men kill for."

You cried out, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper as pleasure overtook you, your body shaking as you came undone beneath him.

Turpin let out a deep, guttural moan as he followed, his body tensing, his cock twitching as he spilled himself inside you, marking you, claiming you in the most primal way imaginable.

For a long moment, there was silence.

Then, with a shaky breath, Turpin pressed a lingering kiss to your temple, his voice rough, possessive, final as he murmured:

"You are mine, little dove. Mine. Now and forever."

[maneskinwh0re]

Hi, what does butch wolverine think about lingerie on a partner and how willing would she be to trying it on. I would worship that woman like a goddess like put me on a leash and sedate me cuz I aint normal about that all

HI HI sorry this took so long i screamed when i read this request. EEEEEE here are some crumbs for fellow butch!logan simps 🤲

mdni // nsfw no smut :c (this time…)

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‧₊˚ 🍂 butch!logan LOVES lingerie on her partner. she is utterly shocked at first—coming home after a tiring mission to see you on your shared bed, reading a book and sitting in black laced see-through fabric. you casually look up to welcome her home, that warm smile already driving her crazy—because she knows that smile of yours is because she’s returned to you. and you only.

‧₊˚ 🍂 doesn’t matter what your preference is. could be wearing a light-weighted, flowy dress or a tight-fitting harnessed set. either way, she’s a stuttering mess until the look on her face darkens, showing just how badly she wants to devour all of you.

‧₊˚ 🍂 “did… did y’ do this for me, beautiful?”

‧₊˚ 🍂 she does everything she can to not rid your body of the material too fast—trying not to rip it apart or immediately tear it off because she knows you want her to enjoy what you decorated yourself with. you did it for her after all, but she just can’t help it.

‧₊˚ 🍂 “god, you look so gorgeous. love it when you surprise me like this,” she whispers in between kisses as she peels the lingerie off your body with all the self control she has left.

˚‧｡⋆♡⋆｡‧˚ now as for her willingness to wear lingerie…

‧₊˚ 🍂 she’s opposed to it at first, her mind immediately going to the “girliest” types of dresses and bows that are typically out of her comfort zone. but once you convince her (just use your ‘please’ face), she’s open to looking at options.

‧₊˚ 🍂 eventually, you find a black harnessed set that fits her muscular build and shows off all her features, both feminine and masculine. also logan mayyyy or may not have a thing for collars… the animalistic side of her can’t help it. only recently you found out she’s secretly liked the idea of you being in charge, ordering her around like a dog and praising her on how good of a girl she is.

‧₊˚ 🍂 you command her to her knees, getting a great overhead view of her tits. she listens almost too well at every instruction, her deep voice replying with either a stifled whimper or a “yes, ma’am.” you admire the way she patiently waits for your care and attention at the end of the thin black leash you picked out for her.

‧₊˚ 🍂 there’s no rule that says whoever wears the lingerie has to be submissive, but that’s usually how it plays out between you two. logan is so often dominant 24/7 because that’s just her personality… or at least until your set has some matching whips and trinkets to use on her. then it doesn’t take very much effort to get her to obey every filthy word that leaves your mouth.

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hope you enjoyed, my lovelies!! bc this is all i got for now rahhh 🧡

life has been so crazy recently but i promise i have so much more in the works!! stay tuned the next few weeks and keep them requests coming 😛😼💦

- 🐝

[fetishfairytales2]

Sissy School, Pt. 2 (Story)

The next day, the sun was already shining through the windshield as I drove Brandi back to Huggies for her first day of Sissy School. I glanced at my precious cuck, all strapped into her car seat like the helpless baby she is. I had to giggle at her reflection in the rear view, dressed in her pathetic school uniform, just like a little doll. She wore a tiny plaid skirt that barely covered her pink pull-ups, those cute white lace stockings, and a pink blouse with "Teacher's Pet" written across it. Her blonde pigtails were tied with bright pink bows, making her look so innocent and sweet. Her pacifier gag, molded from Conner's massive cock of course, kept her quiet, but her tears said it all. "Look at my widdle Brandi, all pretty for her first day of school!" I smirked, locking eyes with her in the mirror. "Aww, stop with the waterworks, princess. You know you don't have a choice, so why the tears?" I listened to her muffled sobs and whimpers, like she could actually convince me to change my mind! "Bet you're gonna have a blast, silly girl! Stop being such a drama queen!" I pulled into the parking lot of the strip mall, where Ms. Becky waved eagerly. Seems like my sissy wasn't the only one excited for her first day of school!

"Come on, my little sissy, time to get you outta that car seat and ready for school!" I cooed, strutting over to the car door, my heels clicking on the pavement. "Look, there's Ms. Becky waiting for you! You wanna make Mommy proud on your first day, don'tcha, Brandi?" I knew this was the tricky part, getting her out of the car without a scene. I quickly unbuckled her, leaving her wrists cuffed to keep her from causing a fuss. I grabbed her by the pigtails and yanked her out, her little skirt riding up to expose her diapees. "Remember, baby," I whispered, turning her chin toward me, staring into her teary eyes, "you don't wanna be a bad girl and have Daddy hear about it. No more morning spankings if you're good today." I gave her a wicked smile, handing over her school bag. "Now, listen to Ms. Becky and Ms. Staci. They'll teach you how to be the slutty sissy we know you can be!" As Brandi turned, resigning herself to her fate, I gave her one more swift spank on the ass. “Whoops!” I giggled when she yelped behind her gag; “did Mommy accidentally spank your plug? Sorry sweets!” I watched Brandi slowly trudge toward the front door, her pigtails bouncing. “Have fun cupcake! Mommy will be watching all day!”

Oh my God, I was so excited to watch my sissy's first day of school that I barely gave her time to walk through the doors before I was on the phone with my girls, Lyndsey and Kylie! "You guys have to come over ASAP!" I squealed into the phone. "It's Brandi's first day, and they live-stream the whole thing! I bet it's gonna be hilarious!" I rushed home, poured myself my first glass of wine for the day, and fired up my laptop just in time for the show to begin. And there she was, my little Brandi, standing with three other sissies, all wearing those tiny plaid skirts and stockings, and of course, their diapers on full display. They were all standing in a circle in the center of the cute pink classroom next to their matching pink desks and chairs. I could see Brandi staring wide-eyed at the dildo that was suction-cupped to her chair.

Ms. Staci, looking all kinds of hot but pissed off, stood at the front of the classroom.. "Alright, you pathetic losers," she barked, "if your sissy pussies aren't full, they will be! You know the damn rules - nothing less than six inches at all times!" She was so over these sissies already! "Bend over those desks, now!" Three of the sissies quickly obeyed, but my little rebel, Brandi, just stood there, staring at the floor. Staci marched around the circle, noticing Brandi and looking pissed. "Sit. Down," she ordered, pointing to the first sissy, seeing a hole already cut in the back of their diaper. She checked the second too; “better be at least six inches long,” she barked, pulling out the back of their diaper to inspect. When she got to Brandi, she ignored her for a moment, instead making her way to the final sissy’s desk. “Diaper down, I want to check you. Spread them slut, you know how this goes…” The very annoyed teacher didn’t say anything else, instead yanking a massive black rubber butt plug from the sissy’s ass. “Quit your bitching slut, you’re not that tight anymore anyway…” Staci snickered.

"And why aren't you bent over like the rest of these losers?" Ms. Staci demanded, having none of Brandi’s sassiness! “Did I fucking stutter?!” the teacher asked, marching over to my little sissy. "I said I wanted every ass bent over and stretched, and I mean it! Got something to say, princess?" she yelled, her eyes daring Brandi to talk back. Brandi, trembling and whimpering, tried to speak through her gag, her eyes pleading. "What was that, bitch?" Staci screamed. "Don’t you know not to talk with a cock in your mouth, slut?!" She dropped the rubber butt plug on Brandi's desk with a thud, then bent my helpless, cuffed sissy over the desk. "Let me help you out, sweetie," Staci hissed, untying the pacifier gag. "If you even breathe right now, you'll spend the day in detention, got it?" She leaned in close, her voice a menacing whisper. "Now, listen up losers, when I say do something, you fucking do it! I don't care if your pussy is already stretched, or your diaper is full of shit. What I say goes! Got it?” All four helpless sissies nodded now, even Brandi!” Staci leaned in again, talking directly to Brandi; “and right now, I want the new loser here to stick her fucking tongue out..."

Oh my God, the tension in that room was real, and I was loving every second of it! Brandi, trembling again, barely stuck her tongue out, and Ms. Staci was not having it. "All the way, bitch!" she snapped, grabbing Brandi's tongue and pulling it out of her sissy mouth. "I want it all the way out, you pathetic loser!" Staci got right up in Brandi's face now. "From now on, you little slut, I own you. Me and every hot woman that works here, we're way too good for you, but we still like to play with our toys. So, when I say jump, you ask 'how high?' Got it?" With that, Staci slowly walked behind Brandi, her voice dropping to a whisper again. "Open your fucking mouth wide..." Then, getting tired of Brandi’s defiance again, Staci screamed in the poor thing’s ear, "DO IT NOW YOU FUCKING BITCH!" And just like that, my sissy's mouth was forced down onto a freshly used butt plug, which I’m sure she just loved. "That's it, bitch," Staci giggled, sounding so bitchy now; I knew I would love this girl! "Lube it up for this fucking loser, 'cause it's going back in her ass! Maybe this should be an everyday thing! It would help you make friends!" She wrapped her hands around Brandi's pigtails, forcing the sissy to deepthroat the plug. “Take it all the way bitch, you’ve already earned one demerit, don’t make it two because you’re not sucking like a slut!”

"Oh my God, is that Brandi?!" Lyndsey was laughing behind me, peeking over my shoulder at the live stream. I was so lost in Brandi’s suffering, I didn't even hear Lyndsey come in! We hadn't seen each other in ages, well, except for the weekends when she cuckysits Brandi while I'm out with Conner. I poured her a glass of wine and filled her in on all the juicy details - Conner's big promotion, how I wanted Brandi out of my hair more, and of course, the best part - enrolling my sissy in Huggies and Hunks. "Huggies and Hunks,” Lyndsey giggled, “why the and Hunks? I know it’s not the diapered freaks that go to ‘school’ there!” she laughed, waiting for what she knew would be a fun story. I explained how the strip club next door was owned by the same woman who ran the school and how they shared all kinds of staff. "Mmm, I’ve been to Hunks a few times,” Lyndsey giggled; “hopefully Brandi’s as impressed with those boys as I was! She plopped down next to me on the couch, and we turned back to the live stream. “Heather, I have got to see this, like, right now!”

By the time we got back to the live stream, Ms. Becky had taken over, and it seemed we were just in time for Art class! The four sissies squirmed in their desks, their poor asses all being stretched. "That girl, Staci, she's a real bitch," I explained to Lyndsey, pointing out the college-aged blonde. "But she's my favorite. She had Brandi in tears so fast! And the dark-haired cutie is Becky," I continued, "She's a bit nicer, but trust me, she knows how to have fun with them." We watched Becky hand construction paper and crayons, making sure to bend down and get cozy with each sissy. I burst out laughing when she practically smothered Brandi with her cleavage! "Aww, my poor little chastised cuck," I cooed, "She hasn't had any release in ages, and now she's surrounded by these hotties every day. They told me they all wear the same uniforms except Friday. Then they wear even less! Brandi is going to be seeing these girls every day in those tiny shorts and tight crop tops! Bet she's dying inside!" I took a sip of wine, loving every minute of this.

"Alright, my little sissies," Ms. Becky cooed, clapping her hands together, "it's time to show me your artistic skills!" Lyndsey and I nearly choked on our wine as she turned on the classroom TV, revealing a dick pic. Holy shit, that was the biggest dick I had ever seen! "This, my darlings, is Ms. Becky's boyfriend, Mr. Jerome!" She sighed, clearly proud of her well-endowed man. "Some of you lucky girls might even meet him during your 'Sucky Exams' this week! So, who can tell me how big Mr. Jerome is?" She scanned the room, ignoring the fact that each blushing, made-up face staring back at her was gagged. "Aw, no one knows? Well, I know you've never seen anything this big, unless your pretty little princess lips were wrapped around it or it been was fucking your mommies! No worries sweeties, I’ll tell you; Mr. Jerome is a whole nine inches! Isn't he amazing?" She held up a crayon and a piece of construction paper with a very evil smile; "I want each of you to draw Mr. Jerome!” Despite the gags, there were a lot of groans. “Aww, don’t be like that! I’ll tell ya what; the best little artist will get an extra diapee change today,” she grinned excitedly, “ and the worst…”, she paused, pretending to look sad, "will get no diapee change today, is going to miss recess, and get a detention demerit! Okay girlies, get drawing!”

As we watched the sissies scribbling away with their crayons, I filled Lyndsey in on the details. "Three demerits, and Brandi's in detention, where they get...well, I'm not exactly sure. She already got one this morning, so I'm curious to see what happens next!" I giggled, then explained the weekly 'Sucky Exams,' where the sissies had to pleasure the male dancers from the strip club next door. We held our breath as Becky announced time was up and collected the drawings. I just knew Brandi was in trouble when I saw her still frantically coloring. 

"Crayons down, little one," Becky said, tapping her foot. "Don't want a spanking on your first day, do you?" Brandi reluctantly handed over her work, her head hung low. "Let's see here..." Becky shuffled through the drawings, building the suspense. "First up, we have...Sissy Slut, and oh my, look at this!" She held up a crayon drawing, a decent attempt at capturing Mr. Jerome's ‘glory’. "Not bad, Slut, but it doesn't do him justice. Next, we have Jizz Bucket, and this one's a bit better,” she smiled, holding up a slightly more impressive attempt. "And here we have Cum Breath, who did her best!" Becky held up a third drawing and just shrugged. "But finally, our newest little one, Brandi…who doesn’t have a cute nickname yet. But she was working so hard, so let's see what she's got..." Becky held up a half-finished, messy drawing that was barely recognizable. "Well, sweetie, you tried…I guess Unfortunately, I think you'll be missing recess and getting a detention demerit. That makes two for you today, so you better work extra hard to not end up in detention on your first day! Okay girls, diapee checks and then recess…for everyone but Brandi! Remember girls, one diapee a day, so if it ain’t leaking, it ain’t coming off!”

Kylie walked in just as Art class was ending, pouring herself a glass of wine and joining our girls' day. "What am I missing?" she asked, laughing. Lyndsey and I filled her in on the drama, pointing out Brandi standing in the corner with her nose against the wall. "Looks like no changes for our naughty princess," Kylie giggled, "Good thing you plugged her before school, huh?" We watched as the other sissies were led out for recess, everyone ignoring Brandi. Then, Staci returned, grabbed Brandi by the ear, and dragged her out of the classroom, across the hallway, and towards the Playroom. "Uh-oh, I bet she's in for a rough time," Kylie giggled. "I don't think she wants to play with whatever's in there!" We watched as Staci opened the door, pushed Brandi down to the plush pink carpet, and slammed the door shut. "Damn, that girl’s wicked," Kylie nodded, clearly enjoying the show. "She's rough with our girl, and I love it!" Brandi, still gagged, barely had time to struggle to stand up before the door opened again. “Whoa! Look at those arms!” Kylie giggled as we all drooled over the toned muscles of the man who was standing over Brandi now.

"Recess for them, slut," Staci said, walking past the hunky guy and grabbing Brandi by the hair. "You, though, get to play with my friend here. He's the bouncer from next door, and since it's slow, he can join us for a little fun. He might not like sissies in pissy diapers, but he loves getting his dick sucked, so I'm sure he won't mind, right?" She smirked at the bouncer, who shrugged. "Perfect, let's play. Wrists in the cuffs," she ordered, pointing to the wall. The bouncer dragged Brandi to the wall, fastening her wrists to the fluffy pink shackles hanging from the ceiling . Staci returned with a vibrating wand, smiling. "Everything comes off, just the plug and cage stay on this loser," she said, standing before a sobbing Brandi, who was begging behind her paci gag. "First though, please, shut her the fuck up," Staci ordered the bouncer, who complied by ripping off Brandi's pull-up and spanking her ass hard. "Act like a bitch again, and I'll have every guy from the club here to treat you like a bitch. Got it?" she warned. Brandi froze immediately, terrified. "Now, your new Daddy here is going to remove your gag and strip you. If you make a single fucking sound though, he'll throat-fuck you till you pass out. Do you understand, bitch?" Staci asked, grabbing Brandi by the chin. Wow, this girl was rough with Brandi!

We watched, so excited, as Brandi was manhandled. First her cock paci gag ripped out, leaving it dangling around her neck. Then her shirt was hiked up, bunched up at her wrists, still trapped in the shackles. Finally, her skirt was gone, leaving her naked and vulnerable, her little pink chastity cage barely visible. "Won't be needing this," Staci giggled, flinging the skirt behind her; “not now anyway.” She smiled as she pulled on the shackles' chains to lengthen them. "There, that's better, princess,” she said as Brandi was forced to sit against the wall, her legs spread, her eyes wide with fear. “I know you're used to being on your knees, but we want you comfy," Staci mocked, sitting in front of Brandi. "So, a fun game for my little loser, then. Excited, aren't you?" She leaned in close, squeezing Brandi's cheeks, forcing her mouth open as tears streamed down her face. "First, Daddy loses his pants," Staci said, as the bouncer stood over Brandi, his pants around his ankles. "And I'll grab him like this..." She gripped his cock, stroking it slowly. "To get him ready for you, sweetie," she whispered, brushing the massive dick against Brandi's lips. "Say 'ahh' or I'll force you to." Before Brandi could react, Staci squeezed her cheeks again, forcing her mouth open once again, and pushing the dick into her, making her gag. "Good little bitch," Staci cooed, “you just keep that nice and hard for me!”

"Now, if your mouth wasn’t full,” Staci smiled with almost sadistic glee as she taunted the bound sissy. She looked like she was enjoying tormenting Brandi even more than I did! “I bet you'd be begging me to stop, wouldn't you, fuck-face?” She continued, “pleading with me, telling me how much you hate sucking cock." She held up the vibrating wand, her evil smile getting even bigger. "But we both know you're full of shit, and I'm gonna prove it! Here's the deal: if Daddy cums in your mouth before you do, you never have to suck dick here ever again. I promise! But, if you cum in your cage while sucking his dick..." She giggled, waving the vibrator in front of Brandi's face. "You'll be spending the rest of today, tomorrow, and probably the whole week in detention! Your Mommy did warn us you were a naughty little loser and that you would spend a lot of time in detention. I hope she was wrong! Oh, speaking of your Mommy, she wanted me to tell you a secret…." Staci looked directly into the camera, and winked! She leaned in close to Brandi, whispering in her ear, muffleing the words. I knew what she was saying; I asked her to do it just after signing the tuition check. Brandi's sobs turned into desperate wails around the stranger’s cock, her body almost convulsing in the shackles. Guess poor Brandi didn’t think our little secret was as funny as I did!

Out of nowhere, the ripped, muscular hunk grabs Brandi by the pigtails. "Oh I think it’s playtime!" Staci laughs. The bouncer grunts and forces Brandi's mouth down on his thick cock, thrusting until her throat is stuffed. Staci's giggles fill the room as Brandi gags and chokes, tears streaming down her face. "She loves sucking that big cock, huh?" Staci teases, egging the man on. "Fuck her throat! Make her gag, choke her on it, she wants it so bad, I think she's a slut for it!" Brandi struggles for breath, her sobs muffled by the cock down her throat. "Oh no, take it all, bitch," Staci laughs when Brandi tries to pull back. “You’re not going anywhere,” she adds, grabbing Brandi's head and forcing her deeper. "No vibe until you stop gagging and take it like a good girl," Staci whispers; “the game hasn’t even started yet bitch.”

"There we go, good loser,” Staci cooed as Brandi finally relaxed and let the bouncer use her throat without fighting back. Staci held the vibrator against Brandi's caged cock, her eyes rolling back in pleasure. "Mmm, that feels good, huh, loser? Mommy says you haven't been allowed to cum in months!" Staci turned up the vibrator's intensity, making Brandi's shackles rattle. "Aww, she loves it! Look how turned on she is! Such a good little cock slut!" Brandi, being her pathetic self, was actually moaning around the cock invading her throat! I thought back to when we dated and wondered how I ever put up with such a loser. "Beg for it, bitch, if you want it so bad! Beg Daddy for it!" Staci taunted, pressing the vibrator harder. The bouncer pulled out of Brandi's throat, and she sniffled, probably about to beg for mercy. But instead, he slapped her face with his cock and thrust back into her throat. "Aww, at least you tried, sweetie," Staci giggled.

Brandi was trembling on the brink of a sissy-gasm, her body shaking harder and harder as the vibrator teased her caged cock. The bouncer, a true alpha, showed no signs of slowing down as he pounded her throat. "Not yet, bitch," Staci giggled, turning off the vibrator with a fake gasp. "Whoops, where'd the buzz go?" she asked with a wink, as Brandi continued to be throat-fucked. "At least Daddy still wants to play!" Staci leaned in, her fingers massaging Brandi's throat while the bouncer's cock pounded away. "That's right, baby," she whispered, her smile sinister. "This is your life now. Mommy will drop you off here every morning she doesn't want to deal with you, and I'll let strangers fuck you however they please! You've got two holes, and I'll make sure they're both well-used!" The thought of Brandi being used like this every day sent a shiver of satisfaction through me. This school was everything I'd hoped for and more!

“Gosh loser,” Staci's voice took on a fake sympathetic tone. "I think I’m gonna make you cum while Daddy fucks your throat, ya know? Oh, and every time a real man uses your sissy holes actually. What’s gonna  happen from now on, is I’m gonna condition you, bitch. That's what your Mommy wants, right? You're gonna dribble sissy goo from that cage every time a man fucks you!" She shrugged, as if it were inevitable. "Of course, you'll go to detention after, 'cause no sissy is allowed to cum here at Huggies. All those other sissies? They come here, we watch them for their mommies a couple hours a day. They might suck dick once a week, but it's mostly just humiliation. You, my dear, are fucked though.” It was wild to watch the bouncer just endlessly pound into Brandi’s mouth the whole time. This guy just never ran out of stamina! I needed his number! “Your Mommy paid us to ruin your life!" Staci finished excitedly and I just smiled, sipping my wine as I watched on. The reality of Brandi's situation sank in for her, she was crying and fighting against her shackles now like she was begging for her life.

“Oh well,” Staci shrugged, without sympathy. “I guess it’s game over, bitch boy," she giggled, turning the vibrator back on and waving it in Brandi's tear-filled eyes. "Time to cum, slut," she smiled, "I want to see those sissy dribbles leak from your cage while Daddy fucks your throat!" Brandi's eyes widened as the vibrator made contact with her cage, her body trembling on the brink of orgasm. The bouncer, sped up his thrusts, his cock pounding her throat. Staci laughed even harder as she jammed the wand onto Brandi's spasming cage. "Come on, sissy, cum like a girl while Daddy fucks your face!" Staci taunted, her voice cruel. "I want to see those loser dribbles! Brandi's muffled moans and screams got louder until the bouncer pulled out, stroking his cock in Brandi's face. Staci's verbal assault didn’t stop though and either did the vibrator, "Cum, you fucking loser! Cum while you stare at the cock that just fucked your mouth! That's it, cum like the girl you are!” Brandi's body shook, her eyes rolling back as she leaked the smallest little puddle through her cage.

Staci turned off the vibrator and snuggled into Brandi's neck, whispering with fake concern. "Aww, poor thing. Did mean old Ms. Staci milk your sissy marbles and now you’re still feeling all pent up?" God she was such a bitch! "See, bitch boy? I told you, you love cock so much, you'd cum just having one in your mouth!" She winked at the bouncer and subtly grabbed Brandi's pigtails, holding her head in place. "Time to thank Daddy for giving you what you love!" Brandi, exhausted from her torment, couldn’t fight back as Staci forced her head down, and the bouncer went back to pounding his dick down her poor throat.

"Of course," Staci whispered in Brandi's ear, smirking with satisfaction. "After Daddy cums down your throat, it's straight to detention for you. You know the rules, no cumming for losers at Huggies." Kylie, Lyndsey, and I laughed, watching Brandi's mouth being used like a fleshlight, her throat gagging on the bouncer's cock until he finally emptied his load down her throat. "Three demerits on your first day, bitch," Staci smiled, very proud of herself. "Time for detention, loser!”

To be Continued…

[badathumanemotions]

i see an elle greenaway x reader praise kink fic in ur future... pretty please 🙌🏻🙌🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

In Her Hands

Elle Greenaway x FemReader

MDNI MasterList Category: Smut CW: Smut, Praise Kink, Oral Sex, Fingering, Dom Elle, Sub Reader, Strap On, Face Fucking, Vaginal Sex, Squirting, Aftercare. WC: 6,865

Not Proof Read

You’ve been quieter than usual lately. Not exactly withdrawn—you're still present, still responsive—but there’s a faint shadow over you that you can’t quite shake. Elle notices, of course. She always does. It’s in the way her sharp eyes study you when she thinks you’re not paying attention, the subtle tilt of her head as she gauges your mood.

“Hey,” she calls from the kitchen, where she’s been rifling through the cabinets for a snack. “Come here.”

You glance up from your spot on the couch, a flicker of hesitation passing through you. But there’s something about her tone, warm yet firm, that makes you obey without question.

When you approach, Elle turns to lean casually against the counter, her arms crossing as her gaze locks onto yours. “What’s going on with you?” she asks, voice low but insistent.

“I’m fine,” you reply automatically, but you know the answer won’t satisfy her.

Elle raises an eyebrow, her lips curving into a knowing smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Try again.”

Your shoulders sag slightly, and you sigh. “I don’t know. I’m just… off, I guess. Nothing’s wrong, but I feel kind of stuck.”

Elle uncrosses her arms, stepping closer until she’s well within your space, her presence grounding. She lifts a hand to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, the gentleness of the gesture making your chest tighten.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” she says softly, her voice wrapping around you like a warm blanket. “I’m here for you.”

Her words hit you in a way you didn’t expect, and you feel your throat tighten. You nod, not trusting yourself to speak.

Elle’s hand moves to your cheek, her thumb tracing a slow, deliberate line along your jaw. “Good girl,” she murmurs, the praise sinking into you like sunlight breaking through the clouds.

She pauses, studying your face for a moment longer, before her tone shifts ever so slightly. “Bedroom. Now,” she orders, her voice firm but calm. “Get into resting position.”

You hesitate only briefly, the weight of her command settling over you in a way that makes it easier to move, easier to breathe. You nod, turning on your heel and heading to the bedroom. The familiar routine grounds you, even as the faint shadow of your mood lingers. By the time you’re settled—knees on the bed, undressed hands resting lightly on your bare thighs, head bowed—Elle is there, her presence steady and reassuring.

“That’s my good girl,” she murmurs from the doorway, and even before she steps closer, you feel yourself beginning to let go.

Elle walks around the room, her footsteps measured and precise. You listen to the rustle of fabric and the soft click of the dresser drawer opening and closing, each sound echoing in the quiet space. You catch glimpses of her out of the corner of your eye—the curve of her hip as she bends to grab something. Your heart races at the sight, a mix of anticipation and nerves. She’s so calm, so focused, and you know she’s going to take care of you.

Finally, she settles at the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping slightly with her weight. You feel her eyes on you, a gentle pressure that makes you want to melt into the sheets. You resist the urge to look up, instead keeping your gaze down, breathing in the scent of her perfume as it fills the space.

Elle starts to undress, peeling away her layers with the grace of a dancer. Her shirt comes off first, revealing the smooth expanse of her stomach, the sharp angles of her collarbones. You can’t help but admire the way the light plays across her skin, casting shadows that make your mouth water. Her pants follow, and she stands in her underwear, giving you a brief glimpse of the curves of her thighs before she continues.

Her bra comes next, the clasp unhooking with a quiet snap. She shrugs it off, her breasts bouncing slightly with the motion. You swallow hard, your eyes tracing the path of the fabric as it falls away. Her panties are the last to go, sliding down her legs to pool around her ankles. She steps out of them with a practiced grace, leaving herself completely exposed.

Elle pads over to the bed, her naked skin gliding against the cool sheets. She sits against the headboard, her legs stretching out in front of her, and you can’t help but try to sneak glances. She’s a vision—beautiful and powerful and utterly in control. She’s a storm made flesh, and you’re the helpless ship caught in her path.

Currently you're facing away from her, but her words cut through the silence like a hot knife through butter. "Turn around," she orders, and you can feel the heat of her gaze on your back. You do as you're told, swivelling on the bed so that you're kneeling and facing her. Your heart thumps in your chest as you await her next instruction, the anticipation almost unbearable.

Elle's hand rests on her inner thigh, fingers drumming lightly on her skin. "Come here," she says, her voice a velvet caress that sends a shiver down your spine. You lean forward, drawn to her by an invisible thread, and place a tentative kiss to the spot she's indicated. She sighs, her hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, guiding you closer. You press your lips against her thigh, feeling the warmth of her body, the gentle throb of her pulse beneath your mouth.

Her scent surrounds you—sweet and spicy, a heady mix that makes your senses swirl. You breathe her in as you kiss higher, the soft skin of her inner thigh giving way to the dampness of her sex. She spreads her legs wider, allowing you better access, and you don't need to be told what to do next. You've been here before, lost in this sweet oblivion where all your troubles seem to melt away. Your tongue flicks out, tasting her, and she gasps, her fingers cupping that back of your head. "That's it, sweet girl," she praises.

You take your time, lapping at her pussy with slow, deliberate strokes. You're not just performing an act; you're worshipping her, giving her the release she craves, and in doing so, finding your own. Her flavour is intoxicating, making you greedy for more. You nuzzle against her, your nose brushing her clit, making her squirm. She's so wet, so ready, and the knowledge sends a thrill through you. You circle her entrance with the tip of your tongue, teasing, before delving in deeper.

Elle's breath hitches, her thighs tightening around your shoulders. You can feel her tension building, the way her body responds to every touch, every caress. It's like playing a fine instrument, knowing just when to press harder, when to ease up. You explore her with an intensity that leaves no room for thought, no room for doubt. You're lost in the slick heat of her, the way she arches into you when you hit just the right spot. Her hand is in your hair now, guiding you, urging you on. You moan against her, the vibration sending another ripple of pleasure through her body.

"Fuck," she groans out. "Your mouth feels so good, sweet heart."

Elle's praise is like a drug, each word a hit that sends warmth spiralling through you. You redouble your efforts, eager to hear more. Her thighs are trembling now, her grip in your hair tightening, but not painfully. Just enough to remind you who's in charge, who you're serving. You revel in it, the feeling of her pleasure becoming your own.

As your tongue continues to work its magic, you slowly introduce your fingers into the mix. Your index and middle digit slip inside her easily, lubricated by her desire. You curl them, pressing against her g-spot with a gentle firmness, and she jolts with a sharp inhale. You can feel her inner walls flutter around your digits, her body begging for more. You start to pump them in and out, matching the rhythm of your tongue's strokes, and she moans, her hips rising to meet your hand.

Her praise turns to urgent whispers, her voice strained with pleasure. "Faster, baby. Yes, just like that." Her hand is still in your hair, but her grip has turned into a fist, tugging you closer as if she can't get enough. The room is filled with the sounds of your ministrations—the wet, sucking noises of your mouth, the soft, rhythmic cries that fall from her lips, and the rustle of the sheets as she writhes beneath you.

Your tongue swirls around her clit in a relentless dance, the tip of it flicking rapidly like a tiny flame against her most sensitive spot. She responds with a shudder, her breaths coming in shallow pants that echo in the quiet room. Her legs tighten around you, her muscles tensing with each pass, and you can feel the first tremors of her climax beginning to build.

Then, you decide to switch it up, taking her clit between your lips and applying suction. It's a sudden, intense sensation that makes her arch off the bed, her hand in your hair tightening almost painfully. She moans your name, the sound deep and needy, and it sends a thrill through you. You keep up the steady rhythm of your fingers while your mouth worships her clit.

Elle’s praise turns into a litany of sweet nothings and endearments that float down to you, a gentle rain of words that only serve to stoke the fire in your belly. "Good girl," she whispers, her voice hoarse. "So perfect, so obedient." Each word is a caress, a gentle stroke of validation. You're doing this for her, making her feel this way, and it's the most incredible feeling in the world.

Her breath hitches as you add a third finger, filling her completely. She's so tight, so warm, and the way she's panting and wriggling against you is always like nothing you've ever experienced. You suck harder, your cheeks hollowing as you give her everything you have. "Yes," she moans, the word barely audible. "Just like that."

You can feel it in the way her muscles clench around your fingers, in the way she's bucking her hips up to meet your mouth. So you focus, really focus, on her g-spot. It's a delicate dance, one you've practiced so many times before. You know the exact angle, the exact pressure, the exact speed that will send her over the edge. And you give it to her.

Her breath comes in ragged gasps now, her nails digging into your shoulders. The sounds she makes are raw and primal, and they're music to your ears. You've always loved this moment, when you know you're about to take her apart. And you do it with a single-mindedness that borders on obsession.

You curl your fingers inside her, pressing and stroking in that sweet spot that makes her legs shake. The pad of your thumb finds her clit, circling it with feather-light precision. The combination is electric, and you can see her body tense with the effort of holding back. She's so close, so close, and you're the one who's going to push her over the edge.

Elle's praise turns into a series of incoherent sounds, her breath hitching and stuttering. Her hips buck up to meet your hand, and you can feel the tension in her thighs, the way her toes are curling. Her moans grow louder, more insistent, and you know you're hitting all the right notes. You keep up the pressure, your own excitement building with each whimper and gasp that falls from her lips.

And then, with a cry that shakes the very air in the room, she comes. Her body convulses, her muscles spasming around your fingers. You can feel her walls pulsing, the waves of her orgasm washing over you, and you keep going, riding out the storm. Her nails dig into your skin, but the pain is distant, a mere afterthought.

You watch her face, the way it contorts with pleasure, the way her eyes squeeze shut and her mouth opens on a silent scream. It's the most beautiful sight you've ever seen, and it's all because of you. You've made this happen, brought her to this place of ecstasy. And as her body shudders and relaxes, you finally release her clit with a soft pop, lapping up the juices that spill out of her.

Elle's hand slides from your hair to your cheek, her thumb brushing over your bottom lip, glistening from her arousal. "Look at me," she whispers, her voice a gentle command that you can't resist. You lift your gaze, meeting her eyes that are hazy with pleasure. They're filled with something that makes your heart race even faster—pride, love, a fierce possessiveness that sends heat straight to your core.

"So beautiful," she murmurs, her voice still hoarse from her climax. "So obedient, so eager to please." Her praise is a balm to your soul, a warm embrace that fills the void that's been there for days. You lean into her touch, craving more of her words, more of her approval.

Elle shifts on the bed, her body moving with a grace that seems almost otherworldly. "Lay down," she says, her voice a gentle command. You move without thought, lying on your back and looking up at her. She stands over you, a goddess of passion, her eyes dark with desire.

"Good girl," she murmurs, her hand reaching out to trace the line of your body from your neck to your thigh. "Now, hold the headboard for me, baby. And don't let go, no matter what."

You stretch your arms up, your fingers wrapping around the cool metal bars of the headboard. The position arches your back and lifts your breasts, leaving you exposed and vulnerable. But you don't mind; you want to give her everything she wants. You want to feel her touch, to hear her praise.

Elle starts stroking the silicone harness that she’s just stepped into with a look of pure concentration. You can't help but watch, your eyes locked on the way her fingers glide over the smooth, lifelike material, adjusting it to fit her perfectly. The sight of her, so confident and in control, sends a shiver of excitement down your spine.

Then she straddles your torso, her thighs pressing against your chest, and the tip of the dildo hovers above your mouth. You don't need her to tell you what to do next; the anticipation is a silent instruction. You open your mouth and let your tongue dart out, swiping along the silky surface of the toy. It's cool against your tongue, complimenting the heat building within you.

Elle’s eyes light up, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Very good," she praises, and it's like the sun breaking through the clouds. "Anticipating my needs is what makes you such a treasure." Her voice is a purr, a sweet, seductive melody that resonates deep within you. You can feel the warmth of her praise seep into your skin, filling you with a sense of pride that swells your chest.

"Now, stick your tongue out," she commands, her voice taking on an edge of excitement. You obey without hesitation, extending your tongue like a good submissive presenting itself to its master.

Elle lowers the dildo, the tip grazing the softness of your tongue, and then slides it in, filling your mouth with a gentle pressure. You moan around the toy, the sound muffled but clear. She's so in sync with you, her movements slow and deliberate, allowing you to get used to the intrusion. You can feel the weight of it, the way it stretches your lips around the base.

Her praise comes in a steady stream, her voice a sweet symphony of approval. "That's it," she whispers, "Trust me." And you do, implicitly. You trust her to guide you through this, to take you to that place where pain and pleasure intersect and become indistinguishable.

Elle's grip on the base of the dildo tightens, and she starts to move it in and out of your mouth with more purpose. The sensation is strange but not unpleasant, and you find yourself relaxing into it, your body adapting to the new rhythm. The trust you have in her is unshakeable; it's the foundation upon which this entire dynamic is built. You know she'd never push you too far, never take you to a place you couldn't handle.

Her praise is like a warm embrace, enveloping you in a cocoon of safety. "Such a good girl," she whispers, her eyes never leaving yours. "So trusting, so eager to serve." Each word is a sweet caress, a gentle reminder that you're exactly where you're meant to be. And as she continues to glide the dildo in and out of your mouth, you can feel yourself growing wetter, your body responding to the power she wields over you.

Elle withdraws the dildo, the coolness of it leaving your mouth feeling empty, craving more. She moves gracefully, positioning herself between your legs. You can feel the heat of her, so close and yet so far. She's like a flame, dancing just out of reach, and you're the moth, desperate to get closer.

Her hand trails down your body, the pads of her fingertips lighting a path of goosebumps across your stomach. When she reaches your pussy, she pauses, her thumb resting lightly on your clit. The anticipation is agonizing, the pressure building, until finally—oh, finally—she teases you with the tip of the dildo. It's a gentle touch, almost feather-light, but it's enough to make your hips buck up into the air.

"Look how wet you are," she coos, her voice dripping with arousal. "All for me."

Elle's hand is like a brand against your skin, her thumb pressing harder on your clit. The dildo lingers at your entrance, the anticipation of its invasion making you squirm beneath her touch. You can feel the slickness of your own desire, the ache growing with every shallow thrust she gives you. She's not pushing it inside yet, not quite. She's toying with you, letting you feel the weight of it, the promise of what's to come.

The wet slide of the silicone against your clit is heavenly, sending shivers of pleasure through your body. You moan out, the sound a blend of relief and desperation. It's a sweet torment, one that makes your toes curl and your grip on the headboard tighten. Each pass of the dildo is a gentle promise of the storm to come, and you arch your back, silently begging for more.

Elle leans down, her breath hot against your ear. "Beg me to fuck you," she whispers, the words a seductive challenge that makes your insides quiver. "I want to hear how pretty you sound when you beg."

You whimper, your voice a soft, needy sound that fills the room. "Please, Elle," you whimper, the words slipping from your lips like a sweet surrender. "Fuck me, I need it."

Elle chuckles, the sound low and throaty, filled with dark amusement. "You can do better than that, sweet girl."

You swallow hard, your voice shaking with desire as you try again. "Please, Elle," you whine, your voice rising in pitch. "Please, I need it so badly. Fuck me, please, I'll be such a good girl for you."

Her eyes light up with a predatory glint, and she smiles, a curve of her lips that promises everything and nothing. "That's more like it," she says, and then, without warning, she thrusts into you.

The sudden fullness makes you cry out, your eyes squeezing shut as your body adjusts to the intrusion. But it's not painful, not really. It's a stretch, a pressure that makes you feel so incredibly alive, so incredibly present in the moment. Elle starts to move, her hips rolling in a slow, sensuous rhythm that has your insides clenching around the dildo. Your fingers tighten around the headboard, knuckles white with the effort of holding on, just as she instructed.

The steady pace she sets is perfect, building the tension in your body with each thrust. You can feel yourself getting wetter, your body responding to her dominance, to the way she's claiming you so completely. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with your gasps and her murmurs of pleasure.

"You're taking my cock so well, baby," she praises, her voice low and sultry. The words resonate through you, a declaration of ownership that thrills you. You whimper, your hips rising to meet her, eager to take all of her.

Her thrusts grow harder, more demanding, and you can't help but be transfixed by the sight of her breasts jiggling wildly with each movement. They're like two delicious peaches, bouncing with an allure that has you aching to taste them. You feel the urge to reach out, to cup their softness in your hands, but you remember her order to hold the headboard. The restraint only adds to the intensity of the moment, a silent testament to your obedience.

Elle's praise turns into a steady stream of sweet nothings and commands, guiding you through the rising tide of pleasure. "Good girl," she purred. "You're doing so well, baby. Take it all for me."

Her hand moves to your chest, her fingers brushing against your sensitive nipples. You gasp around the toy, the sudden sensation makes you gasp. She chuckles, the sound low and dark, and starts to toy with you in earnest. Her thumbs flick over the tight buds, the sensation shooting straight to your core.

Each pinch sends a jolt of pleasure through you, making your back arch off the bed. You can feel your pussy clench around the dildo, eager for more, and you know she notices. She keeps her rhythm steady, her hips never pausing in their dance as she watches you with a hunger that's almost frightening. But you're not scared; you're alive, more alive than you've felt in weeks.

And then, she does something that steals the breath from your lungs. She bends down, her hair brushing against your skin like a soft caress, and envelops one of your nipples with her mouth. Her tongue flicks across the sensitive bud, and the sensation sends a shockwave of pleasure straight to your core.

Her teeth graze your skin, the slight pain only serving to heighten the pleasure. She nibbles, she sucks, and all the while, her hips keep moving, the toy sliding in and out of you with a rhythm that's driving you wild.

With her other hand, she reaches for your other breast, giving it the same loving attention. Her fingers squeeze and massage the soft mound, rolling your nipple between her thumb and forefinger. The dual sensations are almost too much to bear, but you don't want her to stop. You never want her to stop.

Elle's eyes never leave yours, a silent communication that's more intimate than any words could ever be. You can see the hunger in them, the need, and it only fuels your own desire. She's like a wild animal, a predator stalking its prey, and you're the helpless creature caught in her gaze.

Her hands move from your breasts to your hips, gripping you firmly as she starts to move faster. The dildo slams into you now, the earlier gentleness replaced by a fierce urgency that has your body singing with pleasure. Each thrust hits that perfect spot inside you, the one that makes your eyes roll back in your head and your toes curl.

"Fuck, baby," Elle grunts. "I love seeing you like this—so open, so desperate for it."

Her words are like a match to the kindling of your desire. You can feel your orgasm building, the tension coiling tight in your belly. Each stroke of the dildo feels like it's reaching deeper inside you, unravelling the knots of stress that have held you hostage. Her praise is like a sweet, warm embrace, wrapping around you and holding you tight as the storm inside you starts to crescendo.

Elle's eyes never leave yours, her gaze a fiery brand that sears into your soul. She's so focused, so determined to give you exactly what you need. And you need this—the feel of her in control, the sound of her voice praising you, the way she takes you apart and puts you back together with each thrust of her hips.

Your body is slick with arousal, your juices coating the dildo and dripping down onto the bed. It's a testament to how much you crave her, how desperate you are for her touch. You're so wet for her, your pussy practically weeping with need, and it's all she can do to keep the toy from slipping out. She groans, her eyes darkening as she watches the slickness of the dildo slide in and out of your tight, eager cunt.

"You're so fucking wet," she murmurs, the words a reverent chant that sends a shiver down your spine. "It's like you're begging for it."

Her grip on your hips tightens, her nails digging into your skin. It's a delicious bite of pain that grounds you in reality, a stark contrast to the pleasure that's threatening to consume you. You whine, a desperate, needy sound that fills the room, and she responds by slamming the dildo into you harder.

The sensation is overwhelming, the pleasure so intense it's almost painful. But it's a sweet, exquisite agony that you can't get enough of. You can feel your orgasm building, a tsunami that's about to crash down on you, and all you can do is hold on for the ride.

Elle's thrusts grow more demanding, the dildo slamming into you with a force that has your whole body rocking against the bed. She's lost in the moment, her eyes glazed over with lust as she watches your face contort with pleasure. You can feel the headboard shaking with each impact, the metal bars biting into your palms as you hold on for dear life.

Her breathing is ragged now, her chest heaving with exertion as she drives the toy deeper, harder, faster. The sound of it filling you up is like a sweet symphony, a crescendo that's building to a mind-shattering climax. You're so close, so incredibly close, your entire being focused on the sensation of her fucking you into oblivion.

Elle’s eyes bore into yours, her pupils blown wide with need. "Cum for me," she growls, the command a guttural demand that resonates through your very soul. "Let me feel you come all over my cock."

You're so close, so unbearably close. The pressure in your belly is like a tightly wound spring, ready to snap at any moment. You whimper, your eyes fluttering shut as you try to hold on. But then she says it again, her voice a warm caress that wraps around your senses. "You look so gorgeous when you cum, baby."

The words are like a spell, breaking the last of your resistance. You feel yourself go over the edge, your body shaking with the force of your release. Your orgasm crashes through you like a tidal wave, stealing your breath and making your muscles spasm uncontrollably. You can feel your pussy clench around the dildo, your juices coating it in a slick sheen.

That's it, sweet girl," she murmurs. "So beautiful, so perfect."

You lay there, panting and trembling, trying to regain your composure. The dildo is still lodged inside you, a constant reminder of the pleasure she's given you. But it's not over yet; she hasn't had her fill.

Elle's voice is a gentle command, bringing you back to reality. "Baby," she says, her tone a soft caress that makes your stomach flip. "Can you show me how pretty you look bouncing on my cock?"

You blink up at her, your eyes still glazed with pleasure, and nod. You're eager to obey, eager to show her just how much she owns you. With a strength that surprises you, you lift your hips, the dildo sliding out of you with a wet sound You feel empty without it, but the promise in her eyes is enough to keep you going.

Elle positions herself at the edge of the bed, her legs spread wide to accommodate you. She guides you onto her lap, the toy still strapped to her hips, and you straddle her, your knees sinking into the plush mattress. You feel the head of the dildo nudge against your entrance, and you take a deep breath, preparing yourself for the sensation that follows.

Her eyes never leave yours as you lower yourself onto her, taking the length of it in one slow, agonizing descent. You gasp as it fills you completely, the fullness making you feel so utterly claimed. "Look at me," she says, her voice a gentle command, and you do, your gaze locking onto hers as you start to move.

Your hips rock in time with hers, her praise a constant background melody that spurs you on. "Good girl," she murmurs, her eyes shining with pride. "So obedient for me." Each word is like a soft caress, a sweet reward for your submission. You can feel the power of her praise, the way it fuels your movements, the way it makes you want to do anything, be anything, just to hear her say it again.

You brace your hands on her shoulders, getting the right leverage to slam down harder onto the dildo. The headboard creaks in protest, but you don't care. The only thing that matters is the delicious friction, the feeling of her cock stretching you, filling you up so completely that you can't even remember your own name. It's like you're in a trance, lost in the rhythm of your bodies moving together.

Elle's hands are everywhere—on your hips, your ass, your breasts, her nails digging into your skin, guiding you, pushing you to go faster, harder. You can feel the muscles in your thighs start to burn, but you don't stop. You can't. The look on her face is too intoxicating—the way her eyes are hooded with desire, the way her teeth are bared in a feral grin.

"Fuck, I love seeing you like this," she groans, her voice a hoarse whisper that sends shivers down your spine. And you know what she means. You see it in the way she looks at you—like you're a masterpiece, a living, breathing work of art.

Her hands move to your waist, guiding you faster, harder, her grip tightening as she feels your orgasm building. You can see the hunger in her eyes, the way they devour you, like she's dying to get closer. And you want to give her everything, to let her see every part of you, to have every inch of you.

Elle’s gaze drops to your chest, where your breasts bounce with each movement, the sight of your hardened nipples peaking with arousal. "Goddamn, baby," she murmurs, her voice filled with lust. "Your tits are so fucking perfect."

Her thumbs graze the sensitive peaks, and you gasp, the sensation sending jolts of pleasure through your already-sensitive body. She smiles up at you, that knowing smirk that says she owns you, and starts to tweak them gently. The pain is exquisite, a sweet agony that has you riding her even harder, chasing the high of her touch.

"You drive me crazy, sweet girl," she says, her voice a low growl that sends a shiver down your spine. "The way you move on my cock, the sounds you make—it's all I can think about."

You can't help but lean your head back and moan out, the pleasure coursing through your veins like liquid fire. The move exposes your throat, and Elle takes the opportunity without hesitation. Her mouth is on you, biting and kissing along the sensitive line of your neck. You feel the sharp sting of her teeth, the gentle suction of her kisses, and it's all you can do to keep from screaming.

Elle's hands are like a vice around your hips, holding you in place as she starts to thrust up into you, meeting your movements with an intensity that steals your breath. You can feel the dildo rubbing against that magical spot inside, the one that makes your vision swim and your legs go weak. Each time it hits just right, you feel a jolt of pleasure so intense it's like lightning shooting through you.

Your moans become cries, the sound raw and unbridled as you get closer and closer to the edge. She knows it; you can see it in the way her eyes darken, in the way her grip tightens, in the way she starts to pant with excitement. It's like you're both chasing a high that's just out of reach, and the thrill of it is intoxicating.

Elle's movements become more urgent, her hips bucking up to meet yours, her breaths coming in sharp gasps. "You're going to cum for me," she says, her voice a mix of command and question. "Aren't you, baby?"

You nod, unable to form words as the pleasure builds within you. She can see it in every line of your body, in every gasp and whine that escapes your lips. "Cum for me," she whispers, "cum on my cock."

And then it happens. Your pussy clenches around the dildo, and you feel the warmth of your juices spilling out and soaking the bed beneath you. You cry out, your eyes squeezed shut as your orgasm takes over. It's like a dam breaking, the release so intense it feels like it's ripping you apart at the seams.

Elle's praise turns to a series of guttural moans as she watches you shatter in her arms. Her grip on your hips tightens, her nails digging into your flesh, as if to keep you there, to claim you as hers. "Fuck," she whispers, her voice thick with lust. "So beautiful."

As your climax subsides, you collapse against her, your body boneless and pliant. You're a ragdoll in her arms, utterly spent and utterly content. She wraps her arms around you, pulling you closer as she gently strokes your back, whispering sweet nothings in your ear that only serve to make your heart flutter.

"You did so good for me, baby," she says, her voice a soft caress that makes you melt. "I'm so proud of you."

With a gentle ease, she shifts your position, moving you so that you're laying back against the pillows. Your legs are spread wide, the dildo still lodged inside you, and she's kneeling between your thighs. She adjusts it slightly, the new angle making you gasp. "Relax," she murmurs, her thumbs tracing circles on the insides of your thighs. "Let me take care of you now."

Her movements are deliberate, almost ceremonial as she pulls her hips back slowly, withdrawing the dildo from your clenching pussy. The feeling of emptiness is stark, a stark contrast to the fullness that had you panting for more. But you trust her, you trust the way she's looking at you, with such care and possession.

Elle stands up, her body a work of art bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. You watch, your eyes heavy-lidded with satisfaction, as she walks to the adjoining bathroom. She returns with a warm, damp washcloth, a gentle smile playing on her lips.

Kneeling beside you, she lifts the washcloth and gently wipes the beads of sweat from your forehead. The coolness is soothing against your flushed skin, the tender touch of the cloth a sweet relief. You sigh, your eyes drifting closed as she continues her ministrations. It's a simple act, but it speaks volumes of her care for you.

Moving down to your neck and chest, she traces the path of your collarbone, her touch feather-light as she cleans the remnants of your passion from your skin. Each stroke of the washcloth feels like a gentle caress, a tender promise that she's here, that she's not going anywhere. You can't help but shiver at the coolness against your overheated flesh.

"You were so good for me," she repeats, her voice a warm whisper. "Absolutely perfect, baby."

Elle shifts closer and gently presses the damp washcloth between your thighs. The soft fabric glides over your sensitive skin, tenderly wiping away the sticky evidence of your passion. You quiver under her touch, the gentle strokes sending aftershocks through your body. She's thorough, taking her time to clean every inch of you, as if worshipping you.

With a final stroke, she pulls the washcloth away, then rises to her feet. She walks to the bathroom, her hips swaying with the grace of a panther that's claimed its territory. She sets the washcloth aside and returns with a glass of water. "Here, sweetheart," she says, her voice filled with a tenderness that belies the intensity of moments prior. She holds the glass to your lips, watching you with a gentle concern that makes your heart flutter.

"Can you drink some water for me?" she asks, her hand brushing your cheek. You take a sip, the cool liquid sliding down your throat like a balm. It's a simple act of care, one that feels almost holy in the aftermath of such fiery passion.

Elle sets the glass aside and looks at you, her eyes a soft warmth that belies the fiery intensity of moments ago. "Good girl," she murmurs, her voice a gentle caress. The words send a shiver of pleasure through you.

Her hand moves to your face, her thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone before sliding down to your lips. She tilts your chin up, and you meet her gaze, the question in her eyes unspoken but clear. "What do you need, baby?" she whispers, her voice a warm caress. "Do you want me to run the tub?"

For a moment, you're torn. The thought of being surrounded by warm water, of her gentle touch and soothing words is tempting. But you know what you truly crave right now. "Maybe later," you murmur, your voice barely audible. "Right now, can you just hold me?"

The question hangs in the air, a silent plea that she hears loud and clear. Without a word, Elle climbs onto the bed, sliding in beside you and wrapping her arms around your waist. Her body is warm, her skin sticky with sweat, and it feels like home. She pulls you close, your back pressed against her chest, your legs tangled with hers.

Elle's fingers trail lazily over your arm, her touch slow and deliberate, as if she’s memorizing every inch of you. She holds you close, your back pressed against her chest, her warmth seeping into you.

“Sweet girl,” she murmurs, her voice low and soothing. “You were so good for me tonight.”

The words send a warmth through you that has nothing to do with body heat. You shift slightly, letting yourself sink further into her embrace, craving more of her touch, more of her voice.

She notices, of course. Elle always notices. Her arms tighten around you, holding you firmly against her. It’s not restricting, just grounding—like she’s silently reminding you that she’s here, that you’re safe.

“I’m so proud of you,” she whispers, her lips brushing against your temple. “The way you listen, the way you trust me… it means everything.”

You exhale, your heart swelling at her words. She doesn’t rush you to respond, doesn’t need you to. She just keeps holding you, her touch soft, her praise steady.

“You take care of everyone else,” Elle continues, her voice a quiet lull. “But right now? You’re mine to take care of. My sweet girl.”

You shiver at the possessiveness in her tone, at the tenderness that coats every word.

She shifts, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to the side of your neck. “Let me take care of you,” she murmurs. “Let me love you.”

The weight of her words settles over you, warm and safe. You nod, not trusting yourself to speak, and she tightens her hold around you once more, as if to prove she’s not going anywhere.

“That’s my good girl,” Elle praises, her voice full of pride. “Just rest, sweetheart. You’re safe with me.”

And you believe her. Completely. The warmth of her body, the steady rise and fall of her chest against your back, the quiet strength in the way she holds you—it’s enough to melt away every lingering doubt, every ounce of heaviness that had clung to you.

A deep breath in. A slow exhale.

You close your eyes, letting yourself be wrapped in her care, her presence, her love.

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel light.

[manachiichan]

To see the world that you are so proud of...

Synopsis: Growing up obediently following your empress' shadow, your horizon broaden the moment you met a pirate doning a strawhat who somehow ended up on your island.

Pairing: Monkey D. Luffy x Kuja!Reader, Platonic!Boa Hancock X Fem!Reader

Spoilers from the Amazon Lily and Marineford arcs. Reader is a pure sunshine who is both kind and naive. This is mostly focused on yours and Hancock's relationship.

|| One Piece Masterlist ||

|| Part 1 || Part 2 ||

"Rejoice.. From this day and so on, you will directly serve me alone...."

Growing up, all you ever did was listen and obey those who ranks stronger than you. And that person was no other than Boa Hancock, the Empress of your island.

When your mother died unexpectedly, she took you under her watchful eyes. Being only a child at the time, you were unaware of how dangerous your surroundings were. Surrounded by the jungle and waters filled with sea kings, you will never survive.

The women were all like walking on eggshells around you. Your mother was a fearsome warrior that boarded the Kuja Pirates' ship. She was well respected by her peers and because of that, the rest treated you like a delicated flower that deserved to be sheltered.

You were a child without a maternal protection and guidance.

But after being graced by her benelovence, you grew to adore the snake princess and bow to serve her with everything you have. Hancock treated you like how she would treat anyone below her, yet in your child like mind, she was the only one who didn't see you as fragile as glass.

And to repay that, you went and learned the ways of the women in the island.

"Snake Princess, please allow me to serve your every needs! I won't hesistate to do all of them!"

"Snake Princess, I brought you your tea. Just like how you like it..."

"Please leave quietly. The Snake Princess is currently occupied and cannot see an audience."

"My empress, you seems to be slightly fatigued, should I draw a herb bath to soothe your mind and cleanse your body?"

"I'll be on guard by the door if you ever request anything, Snake Princess. I'll be happy to aid you with all of my capabilities...."

You learned and mastered observation haki at a young age as you often went and learned everything that should and shouldn't do around the Pirate Empress. After all, you felt like you owe your life to her.

But that's also when you finally saw through the mask she often wore. She has a deep fear somewhere in her heart that she tried so hard to hide, the same fear that her sisters share with her.

You kept silent about it as you thought it wasn't your place to ask. But after that, you began to see her in a different light.

Boa Hancock is much more valiantly elegant than what you previously thought. And you admire her strong demeanor in hopes that one day, you'll be like her too..

As a Kuja warrior, you strived and hone your skills in hopes of pleasing your Empress even more. You worked harder to be a better version of yourself. You became the best hunter of your tribe while fully adapting to your own snake weapon.

Hancock rarely talk to you, however, she kept you often at her side, doing her bidding.

"What is with that smile on your face?"

"I'm happy, Snake Princess. To be able to prove my worth by serving you, it's the greatest honor..."

Most women would cower under her cold gaze, but you on the other hand, was brave enough to stare back with much admiration, carrying and obeying with a gentle smile on your face. Pure genuine, you didn't fawn over her like how the rest did, nor threw yourself under her feet as she walk pass by.

Everything you do was all voluntary that she didn't even have to use her charms to force you to obey.

Eventually, your obedience lead to Hancock trusting you completely. Becoming her right hand woman, whom she could trust Amazon Lily with. She know that you will never betray her with how much dedicated you are on serving her.

You were too kind. Whenever she looks out on the window of the castle, she would often see you helping out your fellow women with a huge smile on your face. Every requests thrown at your direction, you immediately agreed on, as if rejection is not on your vocabulary.

She knew by then, that she chosen the right person to trust on.

The first time you actually met a man, was when Hancock commanded you to stay back on the island as she sails away with her sisters and the elite warriors of the tribe.

"Snake Princess, why do I have stay here? I am confident in my abilities that I won't be considered as a hinder.."

You pleaded, carefully observing her reactions if ever you annoyed her with your words. To be near Hancock, means that you have to be careful not to anger her to avoid loosing her favor on you.

"You are not ready to sail on the Perfume Yuda yet. So use that strength on keeping this island safe until I return..."

Being often near the snake princess, gave you privilage to lead your fellow warriors whenever she and her sisters are not around. They listen to your instructions carefully and proceed to do their respective chores dedicatedly.

As you were given the task of protecting the island by Hancock herself, you took the initiative of scouting the jungle along side three other woman named Marguerite, Sweet Pea and Aphelandra.

"While we're here, should we perhaps hunt a beast for today's lunch?"

You asked the trio, hoping to bring a good feast for the warriors who scouted the other areas of the island, but before anyone could respond, you all notice smoke coming from the far side of the jungle. Wordlessly, you gave the women a commanding look before running off to the source with them following behind.

And that's how you met the strange man now called Luffy.

You found him beatened and unconcious with mushroom growing on his body. Not knowing his identity before hand, your pity for the injured had allowed him to enter the village.

Allowing Belladona and the rest of the women to tend his wounds, you and Marguerite provided on sewing new clothes identical to his previous tattered ones.

Marguerite embroidered floral patterns on the vest and you sewed a new pair of clean shorts.

Until the elder, Nyon revealed his identity of being a man.

"So this is what a man look like....?"

Unlike the rest of the women who all got defensive on his sudden outburst, you on the other hand could only continue to stare with curiosity.

Because you could clearly see his intentions. He was annoyed with how the rest wanted to pull his balls of gold, how feminine his clothes were and how tense he was when weapons pointed at his direction.

Yet you can see the desperation on his eyes. His desperation to leave the island, and return to his friends, atleast from what you heard him shout.

"Wait, stop...!"

You told the women to cease all actions but it was then, their arrows rained towards his cell, forcing himself to break out.

"He is not a threat!"

"(Name) all men who enters this island must be eliminated. That is the rules given by our ancestors that is upholded for centuries!"

Kikyo scolded you. Reminding you of where your loyalty lies. If your Empress ever finds out that a man entered the island under your supervision, you knew that you'll be the one paying for the consequences.

You feared to see the disappointment, Hancock would send you once she finds out. Hate to have suddenly betrayed her trust of getting fooled by a man whom you allowed to enter in the island. And you hate to disappoint her.

But the women are willing to help you out by pretending that this had never happened. Once you capture the man and kill him, this will all be a forgotten event. Boa Hancock will never know that a man soiled her land with his filt....right?

So with a conflicted thought, you went with the rest to pursue the strawhat wearing man.

Somehow, you found yourself being held hostaged by the same man. At first, you and the other Kuja warriors were all chasing after him through out the village, when all of sudden, he turned around to face you.

Looking through the crowd of women, his eyes landed on to your guarded ones, stretching his arm, he immediately wrapped them around you before running off.

He kidnapped you, atleast that what you thought as he made his way out to the village with you in his arms.

"I need that paper back..."

He was after the paper you found on his tattered clothes. You stared at him warily as your snake slithered from your shoulders to your arm, forming into your weapon. You hoped that you wouldn't be using it against him but you can't avoid taking that risk.

You stared at his impatient form, silently observing his every move. You can tell that he has no intentions of fighting you either.

"You mean this....? What does it do...?"

Curiosity over took your judgement as you pulled out the paper to his field of vision. Seeing the absolute relief on his face made you lower your guard a little. What was the importance of a small piece of paper with a name written on it?

"My friends and I got separated, I need this paper to see them again."

"Who...are you anyways...?"

"I'm Monkey D. Luffy. I'm a pirate..!"

He spoke with a boyish grin on his face that you couldn't help but reprocate. He kept his distance seeing how you weren't comfortable being near a man....yet. He spoke fondly of his crew.

Like how you often spoke about the Snake Princess.

"The Snake Princess rules this island, she's wary of outsiders like you, but once you see through the mask she often wore, you can see how caring she's really is...!"

"I see! You really like the boss of this place, huh..? She must be really nice then."

You didn't realized that you were talking rather eagerly like you knew him for years already until you hear his laughter. Feeling slightly embarrased that you lost your composure, you immediately went to defend yourself.

"D-don't get ahead of yourself, man! Just because I'm talking to you, doesn't mean I'll let you do what you want here... No men are allowed on this island!"

You were already getting attached to him, he doesn't seem to be a threat at all. You thought as you saved him from drowning after his attempt to make a raft.

And before you could even think about helping him escape, the defense warrior group finally found the two of you in which he decided to flee.

By the time, you caught up to him, you knew it was already too late. Hancock was already aware of his presence and had ordered for his capture after he crashed on her chambers when she was bathing.

"Where were you, (Name)?"

You couldn't face her, you could only stand behind her with her sister Marigold on your front.

"Forgive me, Snake Princess... I was out there trying to capture that man..."

Boa Hancock is a rather observative woman. She observes people who falls under her rules. She knows her worth and what she is capable of and use it for her advantage.

Imagine to her slight surprise, you weren't there to greet her return at the end of the red carpet. That was her first suspicion, you never failed to show up first whenever she returns to the Island after weeks on sea.

She got even more suspicious when every woman she came across to lied when she asked of your wherebouts. Their only replied was, you had to hunt down a troublesome monkey that involves the rest of the island's defense troupe.

So when this man appeared, she knew she has to demonstrate a taste of her power to all of the women on the island. You included. She is the Empress, and it is her duty to protect the women under her care. She ought to show an example of how truly vile men are.

You who were oblivious of how truly cruel the world is. Too kind and obedient for her liking yet she couldn't find the heart to tell you off. She wasn't blind to see the adoration on your face whenever she is nearby. Nor she was oblivious to how genuine your actions were. She can see the unwavering loyalty you shown for her.

However she wasn't expecting you to grow attached to Luffy.

She noticed how your behavior shifted to tense and discomfort seeing him fight in that arena.

"What is it, (Name)?"

"Nothing, my empress..."

She could applaud you keeping your emotions in check. However, she found herself staring at you in disbelief when your cool finally broke when Marguerite, Sweet Pea and Aphelandra step in, attempt to save Luffy.

"My apologies, but I was the one who brought him to the village. If anyone deserves to be punished, it should be me. Those three merely followed my orders."

"You know what happens to those who defy me, (Name). Why are you defending the guilty?"

Taking up the courage, you managed to look her directly in the eyes. Those cold and dull hues that holds deeper emotions within. With a deep breath, you gave her your usual smiles.

Your compassionate smile of purity.

"I was the one who allowed permission for him to enter the village, my empress. So I should be the one held accountable. Marguerite, Sweet Pea and Aphelandra did nothing wrong, so please allow me to take their punishment alone.

You pleaded them to be spared. Seeing how you are willing to take the risks of saving the girls including Luffy slightly wavered her resolved.

"....You disappointed me, (Name).."

But she is still the Empress, and she has to show her authority over the island. Knowing full well that her powers could not affect you in any way, she asked a few warriors to take you away. You who looked back at her with a dejected face.

The man wearing a strawhat look angry on your behalf. He fought bravely against her sisters, demanding to set you free as you were innocent from all of this.

"She did nothing wrong! She was only trying to save me!"

Hancock kept her composure as she watched the battle raged on. What was so special about this man that you were willingly to defend him.

You were just too kind that it slightly annoyed her. You should only reserve it to her and her people alone. Your kindness shouldn't be shown to filthy men who will only take advantage of you.

This was the first defiance you've ever done. Hancock gritted her teeth as memories flashed between her eyes, ransacking every single one, yet she didn't remember you showing any disobedience like this before.

Just when she was starting to treasure you.

Only when the battle was over, she finally understood. Luffy was kind in his own way. Is that why you defended him? Because you were aware that he was not like those men who once trespassed the island?

Luffy seems to know the secret she was so desperate of hiding, so does that means that you already know? What do you see in her now?

Only when she was finally alone in her room, was she began breaking down, silent tears fell down as she didn't want her sisters to hear. Having you by her side for years as her closest aide made her conflicted. She only kept you nearby was because of pity.

You losing your mother at such a young age. Your mother who was apart of her crew, died at sea because of her warrior pride to protect the rest. It was by guilt, your mother's death at her ship is what made her take you under her wing.

She watched you grow up into a formidable warrior serving her with nothing but pure genuine adoration. It was nothing like the lust thrown to her way by both genders whenever she was present.

It was a gaze of a child with innocent admiration. You look up to her as a person and not just someone with otherworldy beauty.

Which is why she didn't let you join her crew. Giving excuses that you weren't strong enough to travel the seas on her ship. She didn't want you to see how vicious and filthy this world truly is. Nor for people to take advantage of your kindness.

What will happen if you knew the truth? It was her selfishness that killed your mother. Her selfish orders is what caused your mother to loose her life. Will you still have the same look on your face if you ever find out her slave mark? Or are you already aware of it?

Knowing you for years, no. You would never look at her differently even after she told you her secret. But the truth? It was because of her that you grew up without your mother's tender love and care.

But even so, she gave in with her fears. Through out the years, even she tried hard to push you away with her cold atittude, you still managed to find a place in her heart.

You were patient with her. Serving her with a bright smile that herself couldn't help but grew fond of. You tolerate her bratty attitude and beauty even when she knew that didn't have any affect on you. Only you were the one who can see through her lies and stayed.

But Hancock is a selfish woman, she was drawn to your warmth that she decided to keep you close, Because she was selfish, she only wants to keep your kindness to herself.

Because being around you, she can be a regular person that people never fawn on. Not like a luxurious item that people wanted to have, but a person who has her own feelings and wants.

All she hope is that you would forgive her like how you always do.

© manachii 2024 ~ all rights reserved. please do not repost, copy, etc. any of the works I made.

[godhandler]

Obeisance to the Arrow - Noritoshi Kamo

#9 : The Lady Kamo  

[could you ever be more than just his wife?]

[tw: noritoshi kamo x reader, arranged marriage, forced marriage, child marriage, mentions of adultery, feminist theory, misogyny, fluff]

#8 : Ice-cream Date

“Wake up, wake up!” Kamo Noritoshi raps his knuckles against your forehead. “Your chambermaid is here to get you dressed up. C’mon–” he’s ripping the blanket away from you, pure torture at 6 am. “– You’re to shadow me today.”

A day before you leave for Jujutsu High. Usually, Noritoshi’s already at the breakfast table by the time you wake up, washing down toast with hard coffee, newspaper spread out on his lap. He sleeps after you too, grumbling about the indignity of a futon and his achy back. After all, he’s the one with any expectations on him. You’re as useful as a flower vase.

“The Lord and Lady Kamo invited us for tea. My grandparents, or rather ours, I suppose, but remember to address them formally.” He fidgets with his thick-fabric kimono. “... Listen, I know this is not in my rank to ask…”

But it is, you both know that, he’s just being polite. Not only ask for it, but he’s fully entitled to demand it, expect it. That in front of others, you act wifely. Servile, if we want to get accurate. It wouldn’t do for a man, especially in front of other men, to have a wife untrained, off the leash. 

You nod. It’s a request– one of those requests you can’t really say no to. Whenever you and Noritoshi dress up in formal traditionals, it’s Noritoshi who chooses his own kimono, and then you being dressed in whatever compliments his outfit. Right now, as you two walk down the hallways to the meeting-room, your butterfly-patterned obi was tied after he picked that pattern for his own outfit. Not that he’d ever notice something small like that. Not when his life is busy with bigger things, things like– 

“The meeting to decide which sorcerer goes after which curse report. Next is a grade assessment of a couple first year sorcerers, and then after lunch we’ll look to expand our stock of cursed weapons. That’s the broad agenda for the day.” 

“Sounds boring as fuck.” He lifts an eyebrow. “Oh c’mon, there’s no one here. I’ll play nice when we get there, I promise.” 

It’s true. You bow to the ground in front of the clan heads, the venerable Lord and Lady Kamo, your forehead brushing at their toes. The greetings come and go; you pour the tea out for everyone and sit back down, a little behind Noritoshi, womanly elegance and delicacy personified. The prettiest flower vase.

It’d be easier to imagine The Lord Kamo wrapped in open casket funeral attire than the summer-silk shawls overtaking his frail figure. Alive for over 120 years, Noritoshi would tell you later, before he gave up counting. Over 120 years at the seat of power. 

Your hasty marriage makes sense now: Lord Kamo is expected to be dead sooner than later, and the second that he is, Noritoshi would be right there, wiping his grief-stricken tears with one hand and taking reins of the clan with the other. 

Unlike you, his life has changed a lot in one week. It’s as if your union has washed away all illegitimacy from his bastard skin, the confirmed Clan Head to be adored and obeyed. “And hence you take my place for the meetings today,” croaks out his grandfather, clapping a hand on Noritoshi’s shoulder. “The gardens beckon me, it’s right for my season of life.” 

You two have perfected the art of communicating only with your eyes. 

Noritoshi: I’ve got to go with him, make an excuse and come with me or you’ll be stuck with grandma.

You: I’ll catch up with you later, send a servant to look for me. 

Noritoshi: She’s old and ornery, you won’t have a good time here. Come.

You: As I said, you narrow your eyes at him, digging your feet in. Wild dog tugging at her collar. I’ll stay here for a bit. 

A cough; The Lord Kamo and the Lord Kamo-to-be leave together, followed by a retinue of servants. 

“Enjoying life, little one?”- comes her gentle voice. You’ve never seen her before, despite growing up in the Kamo household. Compared to her husband, she looks to be simply old, not disintegrating, late-80’s at best. The kind of grandma they paint in children’s books. Chubby-cheeked, sweater-knitter, cookie-baker. There’s no bite in her words, simply dainty interest. You’re the next her, after all. 

“With your grace, your Ladyship,” you bow to her, waiting for her to tell you not to bother with all these formalities, you’re family after all. It doesn’t come. “Would you require more tea, madam?” Come on, take the hint. 

“Yes, now that I think of it.” So you want to talk in private? The maid leaves to fetch some.  

Teeth part her face, nicotine-stained smile deepens her wrinkles. She drops her act like a theatre curtain. “You’re fucked, girl. The old man’s going to die any day soon, what do you think you’ll do after that? There’s no point going to Jujutsu School if you won’t even get to be there for a week.” When you don’t reply, she nudges you with her tea cup. “You’re not stupid, are you? The second the boy becomes the head he’s gonna want kids, and- ” she snaps a finger at you, “-kids are how they trap you.” 

And even though you know that she’s completely right, you need to defend Noritoshi. “He’s not like that!” You feel like an idiot even saying these words. Of course he is. Maybe not now, but he would be. All of them are. 

Lady Kamo just sighs. “See, women like Miyumi, that blithering weepy fool, they can run away. I’ve told her so many times, I say, ‘divorce that man’, and she says, ‘and go where?’ and I say, ‘anywhere, you knucklehead!’ I admit, I raised a son most terrible, but it’s not like I didn’t want to help her, alright? Who do you think gave her all the pictures of his adultery? Made a whole dossier of it, with printed photos, mind you! She could’ve taken millions in alimony and live on the beach with that useless son of hers, but no, she’d rather stay and mope.” 

She’s completely gone on a tangent, but you don’t stop her, sipping the tea quietly. She probably never gets to talk to people frankly. 

“But us, we don’t get to run away, you understand? Once you’re The Lady Kamo, and that’s not too far off in the future, you’ll forget everything else about you. I believe you can justifiably delay bearing a kid till you’re- how old are you again?”

“15 in a month, my Lady.”

“-ah, not that long then. I had my firstborn at your age.” Genuine panic blooms inside you. It’s as if she’s dunking your head into cold water, waking you up to your reality. “Well, in that case, I tell you this: instead of wasting time on that school, pick up books on politics, economics, history, and culture. Learn logic, negotiation, philosophy. I could arrange a good tutor for you. You’ll be the head of a good third of our society, girl. You’ll be Lady Kamo, so practise for that. That’s not what Miyumi was. She’s useless, that woman. Useless technique, too.”

You’ve never asked Miyumi-san what her jujutsu technique was. It just didn’t cross your mind. You’re suddenly interested in Lady Kamo’s, and so you ask. 

“Fission.” Your jaw hangs open. “Nuclear fission.”

—------

A long time ago, no one understood Kazuko’s powers, not even her. She travelled all over the world, meeting scientists in Soviet, China, France and Britain, trying to decipher the hidden secrets of atomic physics. A new field, at the time. But that was all before the bombings, of course. 

She remembers those flower-patterned poplin dresses that she’d wear, walking down Cambridge, styling it with rabbit-fur caps that she’d shot herself. Then she clad the wedding furisode, even though she can’t remember how exactly it came to fall on her. Then came a child, then another and then another, and in her overflowing happiness of a noble life, she lost track of how time passed long enough that now she’s looking at herself from back in those poplin-dressed days, decades later. The next Lady Kamo. 

Sometimes she wished that things were different. She wished that she could give you better advice. 

The tea-cups lie empty. You walk to the room where Noritoshi is heading a meeting by himself for the first time. Makes sense, you guess, of course the Lady Kamo would be an incredibly powerful sorcerer. She was selected to be so. Powerful women bear powerful heirs. And no such women should be left unleashed, after all. 

You’re beginning to understand why Gojo Satoru is that terrifying: he’s uncontrollably free. He’s everything Kazuko could never be. 

Noritoshi greets you when you enter the meeting-room. Everything has been going well, as you can see. He makes rational judgements, fair yet pleasing: a prince worth the crown. Unlike what you said earlier, it’s actually awfully interesting (you reckon you could do it better than him). You take your seat behind your husband. 

Curses boil resentment in your viscera. 

Bonus: 

“Did you get along with her?” The day done, you two are back in the safety of your bedroom, slumped against the headboard, feet under blanket, watching Gravity Falls. You wanted the Japanese dub, while he (ungrateful, in your opinion, about being allowed bed privileges) whined about ‘preserving authenticity of the original language’. So subtitled it was compromised to be. (“Plus, it’s good to practise your English, you know.”)

He wanted to say that he’ll miss hanging around you once you’re gone tomorrow. That he’s concerned if you’ll be able to do well in school, make friends and grow strong. That he picked the butterfly-print kimono thinking of you. That he’ll have ice-cream stocked for you whenever you come to visit. 

But he couldn’t say all that, so he said: “She’s not the nicest to me, you know. Though I hope she was with you.”

“She’s mean. Rambled. Talked shit about others. I like her a ton.”

Noritoshi doesn’t get it, but eh, who is he to judge? He pats your head. Cute kid. The bed does his back good.

masterlist

a/n: the recent VS fashion show was ass, they're clearly not adapting with the times at all, the pieces were 90s and should've remained there. tacky plastic that looked cheaper than instant ramen. boo on the clothing side, boo on the weakly attempted diversity (one normal sized lady, two heavily botoxed nail thin milfs, one east asian nepo baby and one !black! lady) man fashion has truly moved east cuz god that was disappointing

[xi4oyan]

The Last Waltz in the Sea of Flowers

The wind blew with a melancholic softness, scattering petals through the air like fragments of a dream that had come undone. The field stretched as far as the eye could see, a sea of fleeting colors: white lilies bowing under the weight of time, scarlet poppies burning against the green grass, plum blossoms falling with each breeze, as if they were mourning the end of winter. The sky was painted in golden and lilac hues, the sun's last sighs before being swallowed by the horizon.

And there, among the flowers, you waited.

Silence weighed on your shoulders like a damp silk shawl, clinging to your body, reminding you of what was about to happen. Your bare feet sank into the soft earth, feeling the warm pulse of the world beneath your skin. You wanted to believe this moment could stretch forever, like a lingering note in a song that never ends.

But night always comes.

And he always leaves.

Macaque stood under the twisted shadow of a cherry tree, his golden eyes gleaming like fire trapped in amber. He was a figure that drifted between the real and the unreal, a specter the gods had forgotten to take. His dark cloak blended into the rising darkness, fluttering with the breeze that danced through the flowers. He seemed to belong to the night even before it arrived.

"Come" you called, reaching out your hand.

He did not answer immediately. His six ears, hidden among the long, wild strands of his dark hair, twitched, attuned to sounds you could not hear. Macaque always listened too much—distant voices, secrets whispered by the wind, words left unspoken, but lingering in the space between glances.

But in the end, he always came.

His steps were so light that the fallen petals on the ground did not even stir. When his hand finally touched yours, a shiver ran down your spine—his touch was cold, ethereal, as if he were already half-dissolved in time.

"You're stepping on my feet" he murmured, his voice low and hoarse, as if carrying all the words he had never been able to say.

"So you won't forget me" you replied, your fingers tightening around his.

He laughed—a brief sound, devoid of joy, lost among the rustling flowers. But something in his expression shifted, softened. As if, for an instant, he allowed himself to believe this moment could be something more than a goodbye.

The wind blew stronger, and you turned together, like two shadows entwined at dusk.

Macaque danced with a feline grace, his movements fluid, as if he were part of the wind itself. But this time, he allowed himself a misstep—he let his eyes meet yours and lingered, without looking away.

"Hold me tighter" you asked, and he obeyed.

His arms tightened around you, and for a brief moment, the world ceased to exist. There was no time, no fate, no gods watching. Only the sound of the leaves whispering stories no one else could hear. Only his breath against your skin.

Only the two of you.

But then, night began to fall.

The golden hues of the sky faded, giving way to creeping blue shadows stretching across the field. The wind changed, colder now, and Macaque stopped spinning, his gaze growing distant.

"Are you leaving?" he asked, as if he already knew the answer.

Silence was the only response.

He tilted his head slightly, and the golden glow of his eyes concealed a deep, ancient sadness, like something lost in time.

"Then dance with me" he pleaded, his fingers pressing against your waist. "Our last song."

You closed your eyes.

And danced.

Spinning, spinning, spinning—as if you could trick fate, as if you could hold onto something that always slips through your fingers. As if the world wasn't crumbling around you.

Macaque's feet moved as though they belonged to the wind itself. But now, his grip was looser, more hesitant.

Then the steps slowed.

Then the waltz came to an end.

The wind blew between you, and he smiled—a timid smile, a farewell smile.

"Because I love you" he murmured.

And it was too much of everything.

A longing that should not exist.

A pain with no name.

The field of flowers stretched endlessly, untouched, but Macaque already seemed like a distant specter, a fragment of a memory before it faded into the wind.

"Come back" you pleaded, but your voice was lost among the petals.

And he was no longer there.