#i wish he was real and belonged to me

[nametakensff]

Cat For Grabs (D/isco E/lysium) (M)

Okay, here is 4.3k of cat allergy K/im K/itsuragi because why the fuck not 🐈‍⬛️💞

J/ean and K/im arrive on scene at a murder, where the victim's pet cat takes a particular liking to K/im. Allergic misery ensues

(Set in the kind of AU I've cobbled together where H/arry and K/im are an item, maybe like 8 months post M/artinaise. They hook up with J/ean regularly)

~~~~~

Content:

M/M/M mentioned and ongoing but mostly in the bg, cat allergy sneezes, spray, handkerchiefs, rapid sneezes, stifles, nose blows, mentions of anal sex, mentions of hay fever sneezes, mentions of blowjobs, H/arry has a sneezing fetish (but he isn't here), J/ean and K/im flirt a lot

CW: Graphic descriptions of a dead body at a crime scene, K/im performs a brief autopsy, mentions of gun violence, they are cops so you know. Just doing cop things

NSFW - Minors DNI!

Jean was the first to arrive on the scene, alone. Absolutely not ideal – he was at real risk of danger if the shooter – or multiple shooters – were still on the property. The precinct was in absolute maelstrom - an unprecedented amount of crime this week, even for Jamrock. Jean had driven here by himself once he realised Harry was entirely incapacitated. He’d fixed him a look of annoyance until the older man had returned it with a look of his own that said ‘please don’t be mad at me, I’m drowning.’

Jean had sent out a general radio request for backup to any nearby officers for this apparent shooting, which had taken place in a fairly quiet and respectable part of town. He’d been grateful to hear Kim’s confirmation that he would be there within minutes, as well as some other patrol officers affirming the same. Jean should have waited outside, perhaps, but he had a gut feeling as he pulled up to the small, bungalow-style apartment that it was empty. A quick search with his gun held steadily in front of him confirmed that he was entirely alone.

Unless you counted the gory remains of the sole resident splayed out on the kitchen floor.

“Well.” He said to the corpse, nudging its ankle with the toe of his boot. “You’re certainly very dead.”

The metallic scent of blood in the air was overwhelming. An even more overwhelming and unpleasant scent of sewage indicated that the bullets littering the torso of the corpse had also passed through the colon multiple times. Jean wrinkled his nose and covered it with his hand. He almost wished his hay fever was still hindering his ability to smell.

But god, this was a bloody, violent murder. The surrounding cabinets were littered with bullet holes that appeared to have been sprayed in wide arcs across the room indiscriminately. It had to be the work of an automatic weapon. Jean spared another glance at the corpse, then made his way back into the living room. Poor guy didn’t stand a chance.

He thought it better to wait for Kim to perform a conclusive field autopsy. He didn’t want to leave himself distracted and vulnerable to any potential attacks by performing one alone now. And, if Jean was being honest with himself, Kim had a stronger stomach for corpses - perhaps thanks to his time and experience in Processing - and a markedly weaker sense of smell. He glanced at his watch. Shouldn’t be more than a few minutes.

He peered round the room. It always felt intrusive entering people’s apartments like this if he had spare time to overthink. This particular home was exceptionally drab; hardly any items or photographs to indicate personality or interests. Just ugly greys and browns and lumpy furniture. There were a few books stacked on a coffee table, but their covers looked just as banal as everything else.

A sudden shuffling sound to his left made Jean jump and reach for his gun. He looked round frantically, cursing himself and half expecting to see some crazed gunman crouched behind one of the armchairs, ready to mow him down like the man in the kitchen. Thank the lord, he did not. What he did see, however, was a visibly well-fed cat with thick black fur emerging from underneath a nearby bookshelf. Heart beating wildly in his chest, he let out a long sigh of relief and regarded the doddering approach of the supremely rotund animal. Come to think of it, he had noticed a litter-box in the bathroom.

The cat slumped at his feet, looking incredibly at ease and not at all as if its owner’s bullet-riddled corpse was resting in a pool of his own red-black blood just one room over. It mewed at him, butting his boot with its head before rolling onto its side. Jean couldn’t resist kneeling down and getting closer. He scratched gently behind an ear and smiled as the tip of a little white fang stuck out of the cat’s closed mouth, giving it an endearingly goofy appearance. A small blue collar was secured round its neck (no bell, just his luck) with a metal nametag hanging from a loop of metal. He lifted the tag up with his thumb and forefinger to examine it.

“’Beau’.” He read the name out loud. “Well, you are a handsome boy, aren’t you?” He cooed down at it, stroking it from head to tail once it was clear he wouldn’t be leaving the encounter in receipt of a mauling.

Around thirty seconds later, he could hear the familiar rumble of an approaching Coupris motor car. He kept his hand on his gun just in case, allowing his arm to drop to his side when Kim made his way through the living room door, gun outstretched before him. His orange bomber jacket was a sight for sore eyes against the surrounding bleak topography. Once Kim spotted Jean on the floor looking back up at him, he lowered his own gun in relief.

“My apologies, Detective Vicquemare – I came as fast as I could, there was some congestion nearby.” He peered at the cat for a moment, then back at Jean’s face. “The premises is secure, correct?”

“Would I be on my knees playing with a cat if it wasn’t?” Jean muttered, scratching under the cat’s little chin and smiling in adoration as it closed its eyes in pleasure. “We have a single body, in the kitchen.”

Kim nodded, holstering his weapon and scanning the living room with a perfunctory glance. The cat shifted under Jean’s broad palm, turning to face the source of this most recent disturbance. The second the lethargic feline lay eyes on Kim, it jumped to its feet and strode away from Jean and towards the Lieutenant, tail raised high. Kim froze in his tracks and glanced down in what looked to Jean like mild dismay as it drew closer. The cat began without a moment’s hesitation to wind itself lovingly between Kim’s ankles, nuzzling into his legs and pressing every inch of itself against him. It meowed loudly between little rumbles and purrs.

Jean couldn’t deny that it was both an endearing and amusing sight. The cat had certainly been friendly enough to accept his pets, but for whatever reason, it appeared to be especially enamoured with Kim. He didn’t think the feeling was reciprocated; Kim lifted an ankle, tsking as the cat, instead of moving away as intended, reached up with its front paws until Kim put the foot back down. It then resumed its figure 8 of adoration whilst Kim looked down in a gentle kind of exasperation.

“He really likes you.” Jean smiled at Kim, getting to his feet and brushing cat hair from the knees of his uniform.

“I can see that.” Kim did smile softly then, regarding the happy little creature, but made no move to reach down and stroke it. If Jean had been on the receiving end of that magnitude of love from a cat, he would have scooped it up into his arms in seconds.

“Not a fan of cats?”                     

Kim looked up at him for a moment, then back down at the cat, frowning slightly as it increased the intensity of both its purring and nudging.

“It’s not that. I like them well enough. It’s j-just…!”

His breath wavered, and Jean watched as he brought a gloved fist up to his face. He recognised the desperation of the pre-sneeze expression on the Lieutenant, and patiently waited for him to finish. Under normal circumstances and with anybody else, he probably would have looked away for the sake of the other person’s dignity - but he’d seen Kim sneeze more than enough times in extremely abnormal circumstances to bother with any pretence.

He didn’t share Harry’s interest in sneezing in quite the same way, but there was an element of enjoyment in watching Kim fall apart. No matter how he sliced it, he couldn’t deny the analogous nature of sneezing and orgasming; Harry had long since hammered that into him. And so, he watched with a certain degree of appreciation as Kim’s eyebrows drew up and his jaw fell open in surrender, before his entire expression cinched tight, the tickle cresting.

“Hh! Hh’gxkt! Ng’xt! Hh’Ddtch!! NGxt’tsziew!”

They were quiet, polite and almost perfectly restrained – much like the Lieutenant himself. Both he and Kim were prone to multiple sneezes, but it seemed to take a lot more out of the older man to strangle them into submission. Jean had always sneezed in small, ticklish fits that rarely resolved the irritation without multiple repetitions. Every now and then he was prone to a more productive and vigorous sneeze, especially following prolonged attacks that forced him to take in a final, desperate gasp of oxygen to round off the fit. It didn’t make too much of a difference to him physically whether he stifled them into silent little shivers or not. It honestly depended on company whether he would bother.

He wasn’t sure why Kim bothered holding back when it was just the two of them. He’d save himself a lot of congestion and sniffling down the line if he let those sneezes out now - Jean could honestly say he knew that from numerous past observations. But he wouldn’t mention it - it was best to leave Kim alone and let him do what he wanted. He was a bit of a control freak – not that Jean could really fault him for that, being a stubborn ass himself – so there was no point in nagging him. He himself hated when others commented on his frequent and persistent sneezing, especially when his allergies were killing him. Most of the Major Crimes unit now knew to leave him well alone, particularly on his most miserable – and therefore volatile – hay fever days.

With the exception of Harry, of course. In a completely inconvenient and Pavlovian fashion, he had almost come to associate his hay fever with sexual gratification. Both he and Harry knew his initial rejections of Harry’s advances were merely for show, and a matter of pride. Every time his superior officer would sidle up to him and suggest they find some privacy, he would eventually break and let the older man fuck him, or suck his cock. He may as well get an orgasm out of the endless torture that plagued him throughout late spring and summer. It wasn’t even that bad, being fucked and sneezing your head off at the same time. Aggravatingly, if he were to be honest, it was actually rather fun. He supposed he was more or less an expert at this point.

Kim was more recently initiated into the whole fucking and sneezing thing. For what it was worth, he seemed like a perfectly kinky motherfucker who enjoyed watching Harry squirm. And there was almost no better way to do that than to tease him with this fetish, which Kim took to like a duck in water. Jean had to admit whenever the three of them fucked around and Harry inevitably begged to be indulged, it was reassuring – and very fun – to know that they had the numbers against him. Brothers in arms. God, what a life.

Kim lowered his fist with a shaky exhale, looking worn out by the onslaught for just a moment before his regular placid countenance was restored. His nostrils flared briefly with an audibly damp sniffle.

“À tes souhaits.” Jean offered.

“Merci.”

Kim looked up at him and flashed him a sheepish sort of ‘haha. Look at us. Sneezing in the wild’ conspiratorial glance. Jean smirked at him.

“As I was saying. I don’t dislike cats. I just dislike that they tend to make me sneeze.”

Jean nodded and looked round at the flat. Cat hair covered most surfaces, if only sparsely. A beam of sunlight coming through one of the narrow windows illuminated a few stray hairs dancing round on the currents of air. He winced a little in sympathy. The sight even made his own nose tickle a little; he subconsciously reached up to rub the side of it with a crooked finger.

“You’re shit out of luck, then. It’s cat hair heaven in here.”

Kim sighed wearily, accepting his fate. As if picking up at last on Kim’s less-than-satisfied state of being, the cat paused in its motions to drape itself over the toes of Kim’s boots and glance up at him with a sweet ‘Mroww’, which Jean could swear lilted up in pitch as if to question the Lieutenant. Kim looked down at the cat with soft eyes.

“It’s not your fault, little one. Don’t worry.”

He hesitated for a moment before reaching down and gingerly stroking the top of the cat’s head with a gloved hand. It was an awkward and brief motion; he pulled back before the cat could nuzzle its docile head into his palm. Both Jean and Kim watched as even the minor scritches unearthed a tiny cloud of soft black fur. Kim jerked upright almost violently, and Jean had to stifle a laugh.

“I’ll be paying for that in a while,” Kim sighed again, rolling a pair of black nitrile gloves over his leather ones with a pleasing snap. He gently shifted the cat off the toes of his boots one foot at a time; it went easily, seemingly exhausted by its own outpouring of affection and allowing itself to sink into the carpet like a puddle of fur. It really was a lazy motherfucker. Jean was quite in love with it.

“Excusez-moi.” Kim muttered as he stepped over the liquid pile of cat, purring happily in its heap.

He looked up at Jean as he made his way over, doing a small double-take as he noticed the way Jean was beaming at him.

“What?” His lips quirked up ever so subtly, thankfully taking the taller officer’s grin in good humour.

“Nothing. You’re just cute with animals. Awkward.”

Kim just smiled at him, warmly.  

“I should really get to work.” He said, moving past Jean into the kitchen. “In here, you said?”

“Yep.” Jean followed behind him. He could see that the numerous rotations the cat had made around Kim’s legs had deposited a great deal of soft black fur sticking to the camo. He would help Kim get rid of it all before he got back into his MC. He watched as Kim knelt next to the body, careful to avoid the coagulating puddle of blood that spread outwards on the cheap linoleum floor.

“Have you had a chance to examine the victim?” Kim ran his hand over the chest of the body – it was practically shredded through with bullet wounds. He performed a brief ‘Stations of the Breath’ ritual before resuming his inspection.

“Not extensively, but enough to see all of this.” Jean gestured to the wounds and the endless shards of glass spanning the ground. “Looks like he was shot through the window with an automatic rifle. He fell onto the glass, and some of it is implanted following the initial explosion of the window shattering. Most of, but not all of the blood is from the bullet wounds.”

Kim nodded, inspecting the body more thoroughly. Jean continued.

“He looks to have died around the time that gunshots were reported forty-five minutes ago. Definitely not long enough for his cat to start eating his face.”

Kim wrinkled his nose at that, uttering a small sound of disgust.

“Gross.”

“Not as gross as this mess.”

Kim nodded his head in grim recognition. He dictated notes to Jean as he conducted the examination but couldn’t find anything counter to Jean’s initial conclusions. The cause of death and injuries to the body were easily explained. The reason for this extremely violent murder – not so much. Kim extracted a wallet and driver’s license from the victim’s jeans – not a name or face either of them were familiar with from any ongoing gang related investigations.

“This was overkill.” Kim murmured, righting himself and removing the nitrile gloves. “Far too extreme for a run-of-the-mill civilian.”

“I agree.” Jean nodded. “Since the shots are from outside, and I can see no sign of disturbance inside the apartment, it doesn’t look like a break-in or burglary. I – oh.”

He paused, noticing the slight sneer Kim was wearing as he fought off another allergic tickle, nostrils flared wide. He was wildly unsuccessful, whipping round and into the raised collar of his bomber jacket seconds later with a violent series of sneezes.

“HdDDZT’Tzshieww!! Hgkt’tsh!! ‘TTSCH’uu!!”

The first one burst out of him in angry, dizzying rush of spray through teeth clenched just a moment too late to provide any effective suppression.  The next two he managed to bite down on, barely, shoulders jumping under the pressure. Jean reached out to grab him firmly by the bicep as he shook, threatening to unbalance himself and, heaven forbid, topple down onto or next to the corpse. Though not remarkably loud, the sneezes were forceful and audibly desperate. The smaller man sighed once he was done, and Jean released his arm.

“Bless you!” He offered, a little impressed by the display. He imagined Harry would have jizzed on the spot.

“Ughh, Merci. Désolé.” Kim replied, sniffling and blinking one itching eye shut. A single tear of irritation started a slow descent down his cheek. Jean reached under the frame of Kim’s glasses and swiped it away with his thumb on a whim, before realising he had been petting Beau with that same hand. He felt relieved when Kim didn’t fight him on it, perhaps not even realising his mistake.

“Carry on, detective.”

Jean continued to explain his theory surrounding the murder whilst Kim pulled out a neatly folded handkerchief and tended first to his bleary eyes, then to his twitching, irritated nostrils. The skin on their rims was left slightly pinkened after some uncharacteristically rough manhandling. He must be more allergic than he let on, Jean thought, and began leading the pair of them out of the apartment.

He jumped when in the living room Kim jerked forward with another desperate fit, halting their progression and eliciting a sudden, loud meow from Beau. Said cat watched on with expressionless green eyes from his position stretched out on the sun-warmed carpet as Kim shuddered, sneezing into the hastily raised cover of his elbow.

“Hh’GXTSsshhh!! ‘GXT’Tchieww!! HDd’TZSchh!! ‘TSCH’oo! Ahh, mon dieu.”

These sneezes were particularly viscious, wrenching themselves out of Kim and leaving him bleary-eyed and shaky in the aftermath.

“God, Kim. Bless you.” Jean offered, his hand rubbing absently at the small of the Lieutenant’s back.

“Thang’k you. Let’s go.” Kim said, snuffling into his handkerchief and walking out through the front door without a second to spare. Jean cast a glance at the cat, mewling again as its beloved Lieutenant marched away, and followed him out of the door without a word.

“Hmm. No known or suspected connections to any street gangs or drug cartels. He may have been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Seen something he shouldn’t have.” Kim offered as they leant against the wall of the building. He blew his nose softly. It didn’t sound at all productive as his sinuses started to swell. “Somebody meant to silence him.”

“Maybe.” Jean took a drag on his cigarette. “But the MO is unlike any of the regular gangs in this area. I mean, a machine gun?? For one unarmed guy, at home? It’s too messy, outlandish and loud – in other words, way too risky.”

Kim nodded and paused for a moment. Jean wondered if he was going to sneeze again, but he spoke up after a beat.

“There…was another murder, a few months ago – on the other side of Jamrock, with fatal injuries confirmed to have been sustained via an automatic rifle. I’ll have to check, but the circumstances are shockingly similar. That victim also had no apparent connections to any gangs, or a previous criminal record.”

Jean made a small noise of recognition. He remembered, now – the case was still ongoing. It had intrigued both Harry and himself, but had been brushed aside as several more inflammatory and pressing cases had arisen. They’d passed it off onto some junior officers that had recently joined the Major Crimes unit, enticed by Harry’s newfound sobriety and the assurance of Kim’s fastidiousness. He would be taking that case right on back.

“That was also a murder in a residential area – some kids say they saw somebody hop a fence but couldn’t give us any more details.”

Kim looked up at him, nodding. He scrawled a couple of notes in his notebook before slipping it back into his pocket.

“We should look into that. It’s not much to go from and the cases appear unrelated, bar these few details but – we can’t afford to write it off. They’re both too irregular.”

Jean put out his cigarette on the wall next to him, ignoring Kim’s look of disapproval.

“Right. I’ll call in to the station and update them.” He looked at his watch in annoyance. “There were supposed to be more officers on the scene twenty minutes ago. Where the fuck are they?”

“Before I left the station earlier it seemed frantic – I think it’s just a particularly bad day.”

Jean grumbled but conceded. The entire reason he had arrived alone and Kim had joined him en route from another crime scene was because Harry was buried with the recent influx of crime on top of the years of unprocessed paperwork. He knew that. To Harry’s credit, he had cut down the latter a significant amount, despite the slow and confusing process of dealing with his memory returning in sporadic and often extremely stressful bursts. Jean was secretly very proud of him, if he even had any right to be.

“We need to get in contact with the victim’s relatives, if any – can you do that?” Kim asked, sounding a little shaky as he finished. Jean turned to watch him shudder into a fairly rapid-fire quadruple of sneezes.

“hh’dztch-T’zschh-Tschht! Huh-!! AESSCH’uu-!! Merde!”

He had sneezed entirely uncovered and straight out in front of him. Jean pretended not to notice the resultant light aerosol that hung in the air for a fleeting moment, glittering in the late morning sunlight. Kim clapped a hand to his face immediately afterwards as if suddenly remembering he was on public display, sighing into the leather of his glove.

“Bien sûr.” Jean answered. “And bless you, again. You’re starting to sound like I did over summer.”

Kim replaced his hand with his handkerchief, scrubbing at his pink nostrils through the soft cotton. He pushed his jostled glasses back up his nose when he was done.

“Thank you. Fucking cat hair.”

Jean smiled and lit another cigarette. It was always delightful to hear the Lieutenant drop an F bomb. He and Harry were clearly rubbing off on him.

“I’ll sort out the family – and once the other chuckle-fucks arrive, we can start questioning witnesses and get the body taken to the morgue.” Jean offered.

“Good. I need to head back to the station and submit some reports – I can relay what we’ve discussed here to Harry.”

“Great.” Jean exhaled heavily, thankful for the soothing rush of nicotine. He’d seen enough dead bodies this week to last anybody a lifetime – Kim probably twice as much. But c’est la vie. There was always another body.

“Can you wait until the cavalry arrives?” Jean asked him. “I know things are fucking batshit insane right now and you’re needed elsewhere but I’d rather not be the only officer here.” He looked pointedly at the surrounding houses and the curious faces lingering in the windows. More pressing than warding off curious bystanders, however, was the very real risk of the murderer returning to the scene and spraying him dead with bullets.

“Of course.” Kim patted his arm. “You should never have been here alone – I’m sorry I didn’t get here faster.”

“Thanks.”

They spent a couple of minutes in companionable silence, interrupted only by another small fit of sneezes from Kim and an emphatic blessing from Jean whilst they listened out for the sound of approaching sirens. Kim sniffled a couple of times while Jean was working on his third cigarette, audibly stuffed up. Jean said nothing. Harry would be fretting over Kim more than enough once he got back to the station, anyway.

“Hopefully the victim has family that can take on the cat.” Kim broke the silence.

Jean beamed at him.

“His collar said his name was ‘Beau’. You sure you don’t want to adopt him?” He smirked around his cigarette.

“Funny.” Kim deadpanned. He was struggling to pronounce his ‘n’s around the congestion.

“Maybe I’ll take him.” Jean teased. “He’s a cutie. And then he can visit you.”

“That would mark both the end of our friendship and my capacity to engage with you on any level beyond professional.”

Jean laughed.

“You’re no fun.”

“That’s not entirely true.” Kim smiled at him, voice low and flirtatious. “Don’t you dare let Harry know that a cat is up for grabs. Contrary to what I let him get away with, I do like being able to breathe through my nose.”

“Something I’ve discovered,” Jean took a drag on his cigarette before continuing. “Is that orgasms are actually pretty effective as a decongestant.” His eyes glittered as he looked over at Kim.

“Good to know.” Kim returned that look with an equally mischievous glance from behind the thick lenses of his glasses. “But I think I’ll leave Beau out of this arrangement. Three is already a crowd.”

Jean choked on his latest puff of smoke, laughing and coughing in turn. Kim looked incredibly pleased with himself.

“Compose yourself, officer. This is a crime scene.”

Jean wiped a tear of mirth from the corner of one eye.

“Yes sir.”

[warning-heckboop]

Was going to write a little ficlet to go with this, but. Vaccine tiredness is killer.

A little bit of art for the FOP Nature au by @bunnieswithknives. I cannot recommend checking it out enough.

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 20 …

oh my gods chapter 20…

I am dead inside.

And somehow dying more per chapter.

Ow. THE NIGHTMARE DREAM SEQUENCE

"Do you know the story of the queen who walked through worlds?"

Seated on the mossy carpet of an ancient glen, one hand toying with the small white flowers strewn across it, Aelin shook her head.

In the towering oaks that formed a lattice over the clearing, small stars blinked and shimmered, as if they'd been snared by the branches themselves. Beyond them, bathing the forest with light bright enough to see by, a full moon had risen. All around them, faint, lilting singing floated on the warm summer air.

"It is a sad story," her aunt said, one corner of her red-painted mouth curling upward as she leaned back on her seat carved into a granite boulder. Her usual place, while they had these lessons, these long, peaceful chats deep into the balmy summer nights. "And an old one."

Aelin lifted an eyebrow. "Aren't I a little old for faerie stories?" She'd indeed just celebrated her twentieth birthday three days ago, in another clearing not too far from here. Half of Doranelle had come, it had seemed, and yet her mate had found a way to sneak her from the revelry. All the way to a secluded pool in the forest's heart. Her face still warmed to think of that moonlit swim, what Rowan had made her feel, how he'd worshipped her in the sun-warmed water.

Mate. The word was still a surprise. As it had been to arrive here at spring's end and see him beside her aunt's throne and simply know. And in the months since, their courting ... Aelin indeed blushed at the thought of it. What they'd done in that forest pool had been the culmination of those months. And an unleashing. The mating marks on her neck— and on Rowan's-proved it. She would not be returning to Terrasen alone when autumn arrived.

"No one is too old for faerie stories," her aunt said, faint smile growing. "And as you are part faerie yourself, I would think you'd have some interest in them."

Aelin smiled back, bowing her head. "Fair enough, Aunt."

Aunt wasn't entirely accurate, not with generations and millennia separating them, but it was the only thing the queen had suggested Aelin call her.

Maeve settled further into her seat. "Long ago, when the world was new, when there were no human kingdoms, when no wars had marred the earth, a young queen was born."

Aelin folded her legs beneath her, angling her head.

"She did not know she was a queen. Amongst her people, power was not inherited, but simply born. And as she grew, her strength rose with her. She found the land she dwelled in to be too small for that power. Too dark and cold and grim. She had gifts similar to many wielded by her kind, but she had been given more, her power a sharper, more intricate weapon-enough that she was different. Her people saw that power and bowed to it, and she ruled them.

"Word spread of her gifts, and three kings came to seek her hand. To form an alliance between their throne and the one she had built for herself, small as it might have been. For a time, she thought it would be the newness, the challenge that she had always craved. The three kings were brothers, each mighty in his own right, their power vast and terrifying. She picked the eldest among them, not for any particular skill or grace, but for his countless libraries. What she might learn in his lands, what she might do with her power ... It was that knowledge she craved, not the king himself."

A strange story. Aelin's brows rose, but her aunt continued on.

"So they were wed, and she left her small territory to join him in his castle. For a time, she was contented, both by her husband and the knowledge his home offered her. He and his two brothers were conquerors, and spent much of their time away, leashing new lands to their shared throne. She did not mind, not when it gave her freedom to learn as she would. But her husband's libraries contained knowledge even he did not realize was held within. Lore and wisdom from worlds long since turned to dust. She learned that there were indeed other worlds. Not the dark, blasted realm in which they lived, but worlds beyond that, living atop one another and never realizing it. Worlds where the sun was not a watery trickle through the ash-clouds, but a golden stream of warmth. Worlds where green existed. She had never heard of such a color. Green. Nor had she heard of blue-not the shade of sky that was described. She could not so much as picture it."

Aelin frowned. "A pitiful existence."

Maeve nodded grimly. "It was. And the more she read about these other worlds, where long-dead wayfarers had once roamed, the more she wanted to see them. To know the kiss of the sun on her face. To hear the morning songs of sparrows, the crying of gulls over the sea. The sea that, too, was foreign to her. An endless sprawl of water, with its own moods and hidden depths. All they had in her lands were shallow, murky lakes and half-dried streams. So while her husband and his two brothers were off waging yet another war, she began to ponder how she might find a way into one of those worlds. How she might leave."

"Is such a thing even possible?" Something nagged at her, as if it might indeed be true, but perhaps that was one of her own mother's tales, or even Marion's, tugging on her memory.

Maeve nodded. "It was. Using the very language of existence itself, doors might be opened, however briefly, between worlds. It was forbidden, outlawed long before her husband and his brothers were born. Once the last of the ancient wayfarers had died out, the paths between realms were sealed, their methods of world-walking lost with them. Or so all had thought. But deep in her husband's private library, she found the old spells. She began with small experiments. First, she opened a door to the realm of resting, to find one of those wayfarers and ask her how it was properly done." A knowing smile. "The wayfarer refused to tell her. So the queen began to teach herself. Opening and closing doors long since forgotten or sealed. Peering deep into the workings of the cosmos. Her own world became a cage. She grew tired of her husband's warring, his casual cruelty. And when he went away to war once again, the queen gathered her closest handmaidens, opened a door to a new world, and left the one she'd been born into."

"She left?" Aelin blurted. "She she just left her own world? Permanently?"

"It had never been her world, not really. She had been born to rule others."

"Where did she go?"

That smile grew a bit. "To a fair, lovely world. Where there was no war, no darkness. Not like that in which she had been born. She was made a queen there, too. Was able to hide herself within a new body so that none could know what she was beneath, so that even her own husband would not recognize her."

"Did he ever find her again?"

"No, though he looked. Found out all she'd learned, and taught it to himself and his brothers. They tore apart world after world to find her. And when they arrived at the world where she had made her new home, they did not know her. Even as they went to war, she did not reveal herself. She won, and two of the kings, her husband included, were banished back to their own world. The third remained trapped, his power nearly broken. He crawled off into the depths of the earth, and the victorious queen spent her long, long existence preparing for his return, preparing her people for it. For the three kings had gone beyond her methods of world-walking. They had found a way to permanently open a gate between worlds, and had made three keys to do so. To wield those keys was to control all worlds, to have the power of eternity in the palm of your hand. She wished to find them, only so she might possess the strength to banish any enemies, banish her husband's youngest brother back to his realm. To protect her new, lovely world. It was all she ever wanted: to dwell in peace, without the shadow of her past hunting her."

From far away, that ghost of memory pushed. As if she'd forgotten to douse a flame left burning in her room. "And did the queen find the keys?"

Maeve's smile turned sad. "Do you think she did, Aelin?"

Aelin considered. So many of their chats, their lessons in this glen, held deeper puzzles, questions for her to work through, to help her when she one day took her throne, Rowan at her side.

As if she'd summoned him, the pine-and-snow scent of her mate filled the clearing. A rustle of wings, and there he was, perched in hawk form on one of the towering oaks. Her warrior-prince.

She smiled toward him, as she had for weeks now, when he'd come to escort her back to her rooms in the river palace. It was during those walks from forest to mist-shrouded city that she had come to know him, love him. More than she had ever loved anything.

Aelin again faced her aunt. "The queen was clever, and ambitious. I would think she could do anything, even find the keys."

"So you would believe. And yet they eluded her."

"Where did they go?"

Maeve's dark stare unwaveringly held hers.

"Where do you think they went?"

Aelin opened her mouth. "I think —

She blinked. Paused

Maeve's smile returned, soft and kind. As her aunt had been to her from the start. "Where do you think the keys are, Aelin?"

She opened her mouth once more. And again halted.

Like an invisible chain yanked her back. Silenced her.

Chain—a chain. She glanced down at her hands, her wrists. As if expecting them to be there.

She had never felt a shackle's bite in her life. And yet she stared at the empty place on her wrist where she could have sworn there was a scar. Only smooth, sun-kissed skin remained.

"If this world were at risk, if those three terrible kings threatened to destroy it, where would you go to find the keys?" Aelin looked up at her aunt.

Another world. There was another world Like a fragment of a dream, there was another world, and in it, she had a wrist with a scar on it. Had scars all over.

And her mate, perched overhead ... He had a tattoo down his face and neck and arm in that world. A sad story—his tattoo told a sad, awful story. About loss. Loss caused by a dark queen.

"Where are the keys hidden, Aelin?" That placid, loving smile remained on

Maeve's face. And yet ...

And yet.

"No," Aelin breathed

Something slithered in the depths of her aunt's stare. "No what?"

This wasn't her existence, her life. This place, these blissful months learning in Doranelle, finding her mate—Blood and sand and crashing waves.

"No."

Her voice was a thunderclap through the peaceful glen.

Aelin bared her teeth, fingers curling in the moss.

Maeve let out a soft laugh. Rowan flapped from the branches to land on the queen's upraised arm.

He didn't so much as fight it when she wrapped her thin white hands around his neck. And snapped it. Aelin screamed. Screamed, clutching at her chest, at the shredding mating bond—

She screamed again. Screamed at her ruined arm, the unscarred skin, screamed at the lingering echo of the severed mating bond.

"Do you know what pains me most, Aelin?" Maeve's words were soft as a lover's. "It's that you believe I'm the villain in this."

Whenever that had been. If it had even happened at all.

"I have no doubt that your mate or Elena or even Brannon himself filled your head with lies about what I'll do with the keys." Maeve ran a hand over the stone lip of the altar, right through her splattered blood and shards of bone. "I meant what I said. I like this world. I do not wish to destroy it. Only improve it. Imagine a realm where there is no hunger, no pain. Isn't that what you and your cohorts are fighting for? A better world?"

The words were a mockery. A mockery of what she'd promised so many. What she had promised Terrasen, and still owed it.

Aelin tried not to shift against the chains, against her broken arms, against the tight pressure pushing on her skin from the inside. A rising intensity along her bones, in her head. little more, every day.

Maeve heaved a small sigh. "I know what you think of me, Fire-Bringer. What you assume. But there are some truths that cannot be shared. Even for the keys." Yet the growing strain cracking within her, smothering the pain ... perhaps worse. Maeve cupped her cheek over the mask.

"The Queen Who Was Promised. I wish to save you from that sacrifice, offered up by a headstrong girl." A soft laugh. "I'd even let you have Rowan. The two of you here, together. While you and I work to save this world."

The words were lies. She knew it, though she couldn't quite remember where one truth ended and the lie began. If her mate had belonged to another before her. Been given away. Or had that been the nightmare?

Gods, the pressure in her body. Her blood.

You do not yield.

"You can feel it, even now," Maeve went on. "The urge of your body to say yes." Aelin opened her eyes, and confusion must have glittered there, because Maeve smiled. "Do you know what being encased in iron does to a magic-wielder? You wouldn't feel it immediately, but as time goes on ... your magic needs release, Aelin. That pressure is your magic screaming it wants you to come free of these chains and release the strain. Your very blood tells you to heed me."

Truth. Not the submission part, but the deepening pressure she knew would be worse than any pain from burnout. She'd felt it once, when plunging as far into her power as she'd ever gone.

That would be nothing compared to this.

"I am leaving for a few days," Maeve said.

Aelin stilled.

Maeve shook her head in a mockery of disappointment.

Fenrys sat by the wall, concern bright in his eyes as he blinked. Are you all right?

She blinked twice. No.

No, she was not anywhere near to all right.

Maeve had been waiting for this, waiting for this pressure to begin, worse than anything Cairn might do. And with the collar Maeve now went to personally retrieve … She couldn't let herself contemplate it. A more horrific form of slavery, one she might never escape, never be able to fight.

Not a breaking of the Fire-Bringer, but an erasure.

To take all she was, power and knowledge, and rip it from her. To have her trapped inside while she witnessed her own voice yield the location of the Wyrdkeys. Swear the blood oath to Maeve. Wholly submit to her.

Fenrys blinked four times. I am here, I am with you.

She answered in kind. I am here, I am with you.

Her magic surged, seeking a way out, filling the gaps between her breath and bones. She couldn't find room for it, couldn't do anything to soothe it.

You do not yield.

She focused on the words. On her mother's voice. Perhaps the magic would devour her from the inside before Maeve returned.

But she did not know how she'd endure it.

Endure another few days of this, let alone the next hour. To ease the strain, just a fraction ...

She shut down the thoughts that snaked into her mind. Her own or Maeve's, she didn't care.

Fenrys blinked again, the same message over and over. I am here, I am with you.

Aelin closed her eyes, praying for oblivion.

"Get up." A mockery of words she'd once heard.

[rainbowpufflez]

Not being known over here for the other horrible men I’ve drawn is such an interesting experience

[puppysdog]

i dont belong anywhere except dead

[soullessjack]

every day I remember that this fandom simply does not care about autistic people and, much like every other fucking thing I experience as an autistic person, the concept of it being a collective found family becomes increasingly alien to me. love this place.

[throughpatchesofviolet]

If only you guys could see me trying to piece this mystery together ... I was just making one of those poses Jil's drawn Sherry in.

^ One of these. I'm deep in thought, trying to solve this crime.

[please-bequiet]

Me: I could just die about it

Also me: Ah that's gonna change what I circle on the scale for my group check in next week

[thingsidrawgohere]

Alright. I'm calling it done before it kills me. This is Second Head. It's an Art Book containing instances of the phrase "second head" in fanfics found on AO3. I'll explain much, MUCH more in the cut.

So when I say 'art book', I mean this is an intrinsic piece. I have no motivations aside from personal amusement and interest in outcome. A lot of money was lost/transmuted into free frustration in this project and I have no claims, obviously. I will prolly be the only person alive to read this.

THAT SAID. I have noticed in my years reading fanfic, there's a few linguistic shibboleths that arise in authors who also have experience in the mines. I think there's not a soul alive who hadn't wandered across a 'ministrations' when reading Narutos oral sexing. There's- Hold on. Here's some pix.

There's an impulse, I think, to in-group even when performing a creative act. A feeling that there are certain ways one Should go about the act, by virtue of seeing it performed that way. Especially so when 'training' at the act is often just Doing. Double Dog Especially when the act is exclusively for oneself with very little oversight. Which is to say, we make what we see and we make what we think we should make. At least, at first.

Now, I've been noticing 'grew a second head' (to insinuate surprise) in fanfic for some time. I've never seen it used Outside of fanfic. (Edit to add: I am not making the argument the phrase is from fanfic. Nor do I Believe it is from fanfic. Jesus Hopping Christ, people. That's not what this project is about.) That may speak to my own bad habits but it got me curious. So a friend and myself downloaded a mirror of AO3 from July of 2024. He did some code- Stuff to scan the mirror for "second head" and of the ~13 million works, ~70k (English) results were returned. That's a rounding error, honestly, but Far FAR more than I expected.

This book is 401 such examples that I personally selected for a variety of reasons. The number itself was arbitrarily chosen. Each page is separate fic, the roughly 300 words around our key phrase.

I don't think repetition or mirroring is a negative thing. I think it's quite charming. Nor do I think it's a sign of a 'bad' artist or 'bad' art. I think it's a signifier of personhood, of belonging, of enthusiasm. Of culture shared and wishing to share. I think it's real sweet. I always smile when I catch a 'grown a second head' in a work.

And it's really fucking funny when it's John Sherlock getting a sloppy toppy. Bless.

Edit: Fixed a very VERY funny error.

Edit: I am not making the argument that the phrase is exclusive to fanfic or, fucking forbid, FROM fanfic. I'm stating this Again because we skim here. Also- If you would like slamdunk my ass by stating the phrase predates the Internet or your GenX parents use it, please use 'sailboat' in your comment so I know you're specifically trying to kill me.

Edit Edit: You know what? Fine. I DO think this phrase came from fandom. I think ENGLISH came from fandom. I think YOU came from fandom. I think EVERYTHING came from fandom. The Sun, the Moon, the Seas- Fandom. Specifically Sonic Mpreg. The second head was Shadow the Hedgehog crowning. Congrats!

[nualaofthefaerie]

How about we stop interpreting the Cat King into something he is not and start listening to Lukas Gage about his own character instead?

Because it's genuinely concerning how some people view him, and at this point, I am starting to believe you people are so hostile towards him because he disrupts Painland, which he doesn't since Edwin can very much like two people at the same time (most people in real life do).

Lukas also sees this shit... It's obvious he loves this character and worked very hard to make him complex and three-dimensional, only for people to misunderstand him completely and start treating him horribly, which I'm sorry but it's completely bullshit.

So less "I don't like him because he makes me feel icky for no apparent reason" and more media comprehension.

Gif belongs to @isabellaofparma 🪷🩷

AN ADDITION TO THIS (03.07.24):

I think every person should be allowed to, of course, continue to dislike him. He is a complex character, and as such, he is the whole spectrum, and that rubs people in ways. However, I did mean to provide a different point of view than the one that had begun to take prevail and I felt was a bit unfair towards what Lukas wished to portray. I will not change or edit the original phrasing because that is how I felt when I originally posted this.

I do enjoy reading everyone's opinions. The ONLY thing I will not tolerate on this post is personal insults on both sides. Do not have those under my post. I'm an adult. I can't have people fight over fictional characters with personal insults.

[jenniferspet]

TW DUB-CON, KNOTTING, PASSING OUT and BULLYING

Werewolf Bully x Shy Human Nerd

In the quiet corridors of the local library, a young woman named Y/N worked tirelessly to organize the stacks of books. She had always found solace in the gentle rustle of pages and the smell of aged paper, a stark contrast to the chaotic world outside. Her glasses slid down her nose as she bent over, her hair cascading in waves around her shoulders. Y/N's eyes darted from title to title, a silent pattern of knowledge playing in her mind.

One book, however, caught her eye—a worn leather-bound tome titled "Lycanthropy and the Modern World." It was a subject that had always intrigued her, but she had never dared to delve into it. With trembling hands, she pulled it from the shelf and sat at the nearest table, the book feeling surprisingly warm against her skin. As she began to read, she heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoing through the library.

The footsteps grew closer, and she recognized the heavy, deliberate tread as belonging to Grey, the school's resident werewolf and notorious bully. He sauntered down the aisle, his eyes scanning the rows of books before settling on her. A cruel smile played across his lips as he approached. "Whatcha reading, nerd?" he sneered, snatching the book from her grasp. He flipped through the pages, his eyes widening at the content. "Oooh, a book about furry little monsters like me," he said with mock fascination.

Y/N felt a flush of embarrassment creep up her neck. He held the book up, showing the illustrations of werewolves mid-transformation. The other students who had been quietly studying in the library began to gather around, drawn by the sudden tension.

"You know," Grey said, leaning in closer. "I bet you've got some wild fantasies about us beasts, don't you?" His breath was hot on her face, and she could smell the faint scent of his inner animal—a scent that was both terrifying and oddly alluring. "You want to know what it's like, don't you?" His eyes gleamed with a mischief that sent a shiver down her spine.

The crowd of students snickered, and Y/N felt her cheeks burn with humiliation. She tried to stand, to grab the book back, but Grey was too quick. He held it high above his head, just out of reach. "Come on," he taunted, "aren't you curious?" His voice grew softer, a low growl rumbling beneath the words. The other students took a step back, sensing the shift in his demeanor.

Y/N swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. "I—I don't know what you're talking about," she stammered, her voice shaking. But Grey's smile only grew wider, his teeth sharp and gleaming in the harsh library lights. "Oh, I think you do," he said, his eyes locking onto hers. "I can smell it on you." He leaned in closer, his nose almost touching her cheek. "You're scared, but you're also... excited."

The snickers from the surrounding students grew louder, and Y/N felt her face burn with shame. She knew that Grey could detect the scent of fear and arousal, and she was both terrified and infatuated by the power he held over her. "P-please," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the din. "Stop." But Grey was relentless. He tossed the book onto the table, letting it fall open to a particularly graphic illustration. "Look at this," he said, pointing at the drawing of a werewolf mounting a human. "Is this what you think about when you're all alone?"

The library, once a sanctuary of silence, was now filled with the sound of Grey's taunts and the cruel laughter of her peers. She desperately wished for the floor to swallow her whole, but instead, she found herself trapped in his gaze. He leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. "You want me to show you, don't you?" His voice was low and seductive, a stark contrast to the harshness of his earlier words. "You want to know what it's like to have a real beast claim you."

The words were like a slap in the face, and Y/N's eyes snapped up to meet his, filled with a mix of anger and humiliation. "Please, stop," she begged, her voice trembling. But Grey wasn't in the mood to listen. He grabbed her wrist, pulling her to her feet, the book falling to the ground with a thud. His grip was firm, his skin hot against hers. The room spun as she tried to pull away, but his strength was unyielding.

With a sudden twist, he let go, sending her stumbling backward. She reached out, trying to catch herself, but her arms flailed in the air as she lost her balance. The impact with the cold, hard ground was jarring, and she let out a gasp of pain. The laughter grew around her, a cacophony of cruel mirth that seemed to echo off the bookshelves. She felt the tears sting at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back, refusing to give Grey the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

Her gaze fell on the open book, and she saw her opening—a brief moment of distraction in Grey's taunts as he watched her fall. In a flash of desperation, she scrambled to her feet, grabbing her glasses from the floor where they had fallen. Without a second glance at her abandoned bag and the scattered contents, she bolted toward the exit. The heavy library door swung open with a groan, and she dashed into the fading sunlight, her heart racing in her chest.

The cool evening breeze kissed her flushed cheeks as she sprinted down the cobblestone path, the sound of her sneakers echoing through the deserted streets. The laughter and the smell of the library faded behind her, replaced by the scent of earth and the promise of freedom. Her chest heaved with every breath, and she could feel the panic start to subside with each step she put between herself and the nightmare she'd left behind.

Y/N didn't dare look back, fearing that Grey would be right there, chasing her with his monstrous form. She had heard the whispers of his transformation, the horror stories of his unbridled rage. But she had never seen it herself, not in person. The thought of his powerful, animalistic body bearing down on her made her stomach clench with a mix of fear and unwelcome arousal.

Her feet carried her to the safety of the town square, where the fountain's gentle spray provided a sense of peace amidst the chaos in her mind. She collapsed onto the edge, her chest heaving. The cool stone felt like ice against her burning skin, grounding her in reality. The world around her was a blur, a cacophony of sounds and lights that seemed so far removed from the quiet library she had just escaped.

As she sat there, trying to catch her breath, she felt a strange tug deep within her. It was as if the very air around her was thickening, weighing her down with an inexplicable heaviness. A shadow fell over her, and she looked up to see Grey standing before her, the corners of his mouth lifted in a predatory smile.

"You're not going anywhere," he said, his voice low and menacing. "Not until I've had my fun with you."

Y/N's eyes widened with horror as she took in the sight of him. His pupils had dilated, the irises swirling with an eerie amber light. His posture had changed, shoulders broader and hunched, his muscles tensing beneath his school jacket. She knew what was coming, and she didn't have the strength to fight him.

"Grey, please," she whimpered, her voice cracking. "Not here."

But he was in no mood for mercy. With a swift movement, he bent down and scooped her up in his arms, his strength surprisingly gentle despite the malicious glint in his eyes. She felt her body go limp with resignation as he carried her to a sleek, black car parked at the edge of the square. The engine purred to life as he opened the door, tossing her inside without ceremony. The cool leather seat was a stark contrast to the warmth of his body, and she shivered as he slammed the door shut.

Her heart raced as he climbed into the driver's seat, the sound of his door echoing in the quiet night like a gunshot. The interior of the car was filled with the scent of his cologne, something musky and primal that seemed to cling to the air. He turned to her, his eyes still glowing with that unnerving amber light. "You're mine," he growled, starting the engine. "And I'll show you what it truly means to be with a werewolf."

The car sped through the deserted streets, the world outside a blur of lights and shadows. Y/N felt a strange mix of dread and anticipation building in her stomach, her body responding to the situation in a way she had never expected. The anticipation grew with every mile they drove away from the safety of the town, her heart pounding in time with the rhythm of the car's engine.

When they reached the edge of the forest, Grey pulled the car to a halt, the headlights piercing through the dense foliage. He turned to her, his features twisted into a snarl. "Get out," he barked, and she complied, her legs shaking as she stumbled out of the car. The moon had risen high in the sky, casting a silvery light over the clearing, illuminating Grey's form as he began to strip off his shirt.

Y/N's eyes were wide with fear, but she couldn't tear her gaze away from his body. His muscles rippled and stretched, bones popping and reshaping as he transformed before her very eyes. His limbs elongating into powerful paws. His teeth grew sharp, and his eyes burned with a fierce, animal hunger.

The transformation was both terrifying and mesmerizing. She had read about it in her books, but the reality was so much more intense than any description could ever capture. The car door slammed shut, and she jumped, the sound jolting her out of her trance. Grey was fully shifted now, his monstrous form towering over her, the embodiment of every nightmare she had ever had.

He took a step forward, his paws thudding on the soft earth, and she took a step back, her eyes never leaving his. The fear in her chest grew, a heavy weight that threatened to crush her. "P-please," she stuttered again, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Don't do this.”

But the beast that was Grey didn't listen to her pleas. His eyes gleamed with a mix of excitement and malice as he stalked closer, his nose flaring to take in her scent. She could see the raw hunger in his gaze, and she knew that she was prey in the most primal sense of the word.

The forest around them was eerily silent, as if all the creatures knew to stay clear of the predator in their midst. Y/N's back hit a tree, the rough bark digging into her skin as she realized she had nowhere left to run. She looked up at the towering werewolf, her breaths coming in short gasps. The fear was overwhelming, but so was the heat pooling between her legs, a traitorous response to the primal power that stood before her.

Grey's nose twitched as he inhaled her scent, his eyes never leaving hers. He knew she was afraid, but the smell of her arousal was unmistakable. It fueled his own desire, his animal instincts taking over. He took another step closer, his fur brushing against her thighs. His tail swished back and forth, a silent promise of the torment to come.

Her breath hitched, and she slammed her eyes shut, willing herself to disappear. But the warmth of his breath against her neck was undeniable, his teeth grazing her skin as he leaned in, his fur tickling her cheek. "You smell so sweet," he murmured, his voice a low, animalistic rumble. His tongue darted out, licking a path up her throat, and she shivered despite the fear.

Y/N's mind raced as his paws began to rove over her body, his claws gently scraping against the fabric of her shirt. The heat of his touch was like a brand, searing through her clothes and setting her alight with a need she didn't understand. "No," she whispered, her voice shaking. "This isn't what I want."

But Grey wasn't listening. He could smell the lie in her words, the sweet scent of her arousal betraying her. His grin grew wider, his teeth gleaming in the moonlight. He knew exactly how to play this game. He lowered his head, his nose nudging her thighs apart. "You're so wet for me," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "You can't lie to a werewolf, little girl."

Y/N's eyes shot open in shock and horror as she felt Grey's hot breath against her skin. She tried to push him away, but his paws held her in place, his strength unyielding. He nuzzled closer, his tongue tracing a wet line up the inside of her thigh, and she gasped, her body responding despite her fear. "No," she said again, her voice shaking, but the protest was weaker this time.

Grey's grin grew wider, and he let out a low, guttural chuckle. He could sense the lie in her voice, the way her body was betraying her. He took her silence as an invitation, his tongue flicking out to tease her through the fabric of her panties. She shivered, her hands balling into fists at her sides, torn between pushing him away and giving in to the strange thrill that was building within her.

With a swift move, he ripped her skirt off, the sound of the fabric tearing echoing through the quiet forest. He was unbothered by the buttons and zipper, his paws moving with surprising dexterity. Her eyes went wide with shock, and she tried to struggle, but his grip was like iron. He lowered his face to her exposed center, his tongue swiping over the damp material, tasting the sweetness that had soaked through. Her breath hitched, and she bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out.

He could tell she was lying. Her body was singing a siren's song of desire, a symphony of pheromones that called to his primal instincts. He knew she was afraid, but fear was a delicious flavor that only enhanced the thrill of the hunt. His teeth grazed her skin, and she jolted, her hands flying to his shoulders. "Please," she begged, but her voice was thick with need, the word barely a whisper.

Ignoring her protests, he pushed her thighs apart, his snout nudging the fabric of her panties aside. The scent of her arousal was intoxicating, a potent blend of fear and lust that made his blood race. He flicked his tongue out, tasting the sweetness that coated her. She moaned softly, the sound music to his ears. He reveled in the power he had over her, the way she trembled beneath his touch.

Y/N's hands flew to his shoulders, not to push him away but to hold onto something as the world spun out of control. His tongue was a wet, warm intrusion against her, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body. She couldn't believe she was letting this happen, couldn't believe she was responding to him like this. But the fear and the thrill were too much to resist. Her legs quivered, and she felt the first stirrings of an orgasm building deep within her.

Grey's teeth grazed the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs, his tongue lapping at her folds with a hunger that seemed to grow with every passing second. The fabric of her panties was a flimsy barrier that offered little protection from his eager mouth. Y/N's breath hitched, and she bit down on her lip to keep from screaming. She could feel the eyes of the surrounding forest on her, a silent audience to her humiliation and her unexpected pleasure.

He could smell her fear, but it was the scent of her arousal that truly excited him. His tongue grew more insistent, pushing past the barrier of her underwear to explore the slickness of her pussy. She gripped the bark of the tree behind her, her nails digging into the wood as she felt the first tremors of an unwanted climax begin to build. Her protests had turned into gasps, her body betraying her with every shiver of delight.

With a sudden, brutal yank, Grey tore her panties away, exposing her completely to the cold night air. He growled, his eyes never leaving hers as he took in the sight of her bare flesh. His paws, now tipped with deadly claws, traced up her thighs, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. "You're mine," he repeated, his voice now a deep, animalistic rumble.

He didn't give her a chance to protest again. With one swift movement, he shoved two of his claws into her, the sharpness of the intrusion making her gasp in shock and pain. The world around them faded into a blur of agony and pleasure as he began to pump them in and out, each stroke hitting a spot within her that made her vision swim. Y/N's nails dug into the bark of the tree, her legs shaking with the effort to keep herself upright.

Grey's snout nudged her thighs further apart, and he lowered his head, his tongue delving into her, lapping at her like a starved beast. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain that she had never experienced before. Her mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions—fear, anger, and an undeniable, traitorous desire that grew stronger with every stroke of his tongue.

Her body responded to his ministrations despite her will, and she felt her climax building, the tension coiling tightly within her. She tried to fight it, to push the feelings away, but it was like trying to hold back the tide with a single hand. The pleasure washed over her, a wave that she couldn't resist, and she screamed, the sound lost in the vastness of the forest.

As the last of her orgasm tremored through her, Grey pulled back, his tongue leaving a wet trail on her skin. His eyes gleamed with triumph, and he let out a low growl of satisfaction. He knew he had her now, that she was his to do with as he pleased. With a flick of his head, he indicated the ground before her. "On your hands and knees," he ordered, his voice still thick with his shifted vocal cords.

Y/N's legs felt like jelly, but she complied, the fear and arousal making her body feel like it didn't belong to her. She sank to the damp earth, her hands and knees sinking into the leaves and moss. The coldness of the ground seeped through her clothing, a stark contrast to the heat of her body. She felt his paws on her hips, guiding her, positioning her just right for what was to come. His teeth grazed the small of her back, a gentle reminder of the power he held over her.

With surprising gentleness, Grey began to clean her up, his rough tongue lapping away the evidence of her release. The sensation was oddly comforting, his warmth and care in that moment a stark contrast to the horror of the situation. Y/N couldn't help but lean into his touch, her body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure. It was a brief respite from the fear that had taken over her mind.

But the reprieve was short-lived. He grew impatient, his paws gripping her hips tighter, his teeth nipping at her skin. The pain brought her back to reality with a jolt, and she tensed, her eyes squeezed shut. "P-please," she whimpered again, the word a pitiful sound that seemed to only excite him further.

Grey chuckled, the sound deep and rumbling in his chest. He knew she was his now, that she would do anything he said. He leaned over her, his hot breath on her neck as he whispered, "Beg for it, little human." The words were a challenge, a demand that sent a shiver down her spine.

With a snarl, Grey's paws pushed her down onto the damp leaves, her forehead pressing against the cold earth. The weight of his massive body was a constant reminder of his dominance, his fur brushing against her bare skin, sending goosebumps along her spine. "Beg," he growled again, his voice a dark, seductive promise of pain and pleasure. Y/N's throat tightened, and she swallowed the lump that had formed there.

Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes as she whispered, "P-please, Grey." It was the closest she could come to begging, her pride shattered by the overwhelming power he held over her. He seemed to understand, his paws shifting to stroke her hair gently, a strange tenderness that didn't belong in this twisted moment. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice almost affectionate.

The sound of his zipper was like a gunshot in the quiet of the woods, and Y/N felt her heart race even faster. His cock, thick and engorged, nudged against her, and she couldn't help the involuntary whine that escaped her. The tip was wet with precum, and she could feel it smear against her thigh as he positioned himself. "This is what you wanted," he said, his breath hot against her ear. "This is what you've been dreaming about."

The pressure grew as he pushed into her, slow and inexorable, stretching her more than she ever thought possible. The pain was intense, and she bit down on her lip to keep from screaming. But through the pain, there was something else—a spark of something that felt almost like pleasure. It was as if her body was trying to convince her that this was what she needed, what she had been searching for all along.

Grey's thrusts grew stronger, the slickness of her own arousal mixing with the pre-cum that coated his shaft, making it easier for him to slide in and out of her. She felt the ground shake beneath them with every movement, his powerful hips driving into her with a ferocity that was inhuman. And yet, she couldn't bring herself to hate him for it. The fear had given way to a strange, twisted fascination, her mind reeling with the reality of being claimed by a creature of legend.

With every thrust, she could feel her body stretching, accommodating his monstrous girth. The pain began to dull into something almost bearable, replaced by a deep, pulsing ache that seemed to resonate through her very core. And as he pushed deeper, she felt something else—a warmth spreading through her, a feeling of belonging that was as terrifying as it was exhilarating. Her own hips began to rock back against him, a silent plea for more.

Grey's breathing grew ragged, his paws digging into her hips as he picked up the pace. His teeth grazed her neck, the pressure just shy of breaking the skin. She could feel the power of his body, the unbridled strength that was now focused solely on her pleasure and his own. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she let out a soft moan, the sound lost in the symphony of the night.

"You're a pathetic little whore, aren't you?" He growled, his voice thick with lust. "Begging for it from the monster you fear." The words were like a knife to her soul, but she couldn't deny the way her body responded, arching back into him, her hips pushing back to meet every thrust. The pain had turned into a dull throb, a background to the pleasure that was rapidly building within her.

"You're just a slut for a good time," he continued, his claws digging into her hips as he slammed into her. "Look at you, taking it like you've been waiting for this all along." His words were cruel, designed to cut deep, but she found a strange solace in the harshness of his voice. It was a reminder of who she was in this moment—his prey, his conquest. And yet, she couldn't help but crave more, her body moving in sync with his, her walls tightening around his cock.

With a vicious snarl, Grey pulled out of her, the sudden emptiness making her cry out. Before she could process what was happening, he had flipped her onto her back, his fur-covered hands tearing at her shirt. The fabric gave way easily, the buttons popping off and scattering into the leaves. He paused for a moment, his eyes drinking in the sight of her bare breasts, the pale mounds quivering in the moonlight.

With a wicked grin, his claws traced gentle circles around her nipples, the sharpness of his nails a constant reminder of the violence lurking just beneath the surface. Y/N's eyes rolled back in her head, a soft moan escaping her as she felt her body respond to his touch, her breasts swelling under his ministrations. His tongue darted out, licking the sensitive skin around her areola, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to her core.

Grey's paws continued to maul her, his thumbs brushing over her hardened peaks, sending shivers of delight through her body. His teeth grazed her neck, nipping and biting with a precision that was almost tender. "Mine," he murmured again, the word a dark promise that sent a thrill of fear and excitement through her. She could feel his cock, still hard and demanding, pressing against her stomach, leaving a trail of precum that made her skin feel sticky and hot.

He shifted his weight, his paws moving to her hips as he positioned himself at her entrance once more. This time, as he pushed back into her, she could feel the swollen knot at the base of his cock, growing larger with every thrust. It was an unfamiliar sensation, one that filled her with a mix of dread and excitement. Her body stretched around him, trying to accommodate the intrusion, her walls clenching and unclenching in a futile attempt to adjust.

Grey's eyes bore into hers, his expression a mix of hunger and triumph. He knew what was coming, and he reveled in the way she squirmed beneath him, her fear and arousal a potent cocktail that only fueled his desire. His thrusts grew more deliberate, his cock pushing deeper with every stroke, the knot inching closer to the tight ring of muscle that guarded her insides.

Y/N felt the pressure build, a sensation that was both terrifying and thrilling. Her mind screamed for her to fight, to push him away, but her body was a traitor, arching into his touch, begging for the completion that she knew would come with the seating of his knot. Her nails dug into the earth beneath her, her legs shaking with the effort to stay open for him.

Grey's eyes narrowed, his teeth bared in a feral smile as he felt her body resist. He leaned down, his breath hot on her skin as he whispered, "Take it, little human. Take all of me." And with that, he thrust forward, the knot breaching her tight entrance, stretching her further than she had ever been. The pain was intense, a white-hot agony that seemed to fill her entire being.

Her body fought the intrusion, her walls clenching around his shaft, trying to push him out. But Grey was relentless, his powerful hips driving into her, inch by inch, until his knot was fully seated within her. The pressure was unbearable, and she screamed, her nails scoring the ground beneath her. She could feel her body stretching to accommodate his monstrous size, her insides burning with the effort.

The pain was unlike anything she had ever experienced, a fiery agony that seemed to consume her very soul. But amidst the pain, there was something else—a feeling of fullness, a sense of belonging that was as overwhelming as it was unwelcome. His fur-covered body pressed down on hers, his hot breath in her ear as he whispered sweet nothings, his tongue flicking against her earlobe.

Grey began to rock his hips, the knot within her moving in a way that sent waves of pleasure through her body. She gritted her teeth, trying to fight the feeling, but it was like trying to hold back the tide. The pleasure grew with every movement, her body seemingly rewiring itself to crave the painful ecstasy he was forcing upon her. His eyes were wild, the pupils dilated with desire, and she knew she was lost to him.

The knot grew larger, swelling with every beat of his heart, pushing into her with a relentlessness that was both terrifying and exhilarating. She could feel it filling her, the pressure becoming unbearable as it reached the limits of her stretched body. Yet she couldn't stop the soft moans that spilled from her lips, her body betraying her with every twitch and quiver.

Grey's thrusts grew more forceful, the sound of his hips slapping against her ass echoing through the stillness of the forest. The pain had become a living entity within her, a constant throb that was matched only by the growing need for release. His claws dug into her flesh, leaving behind half-moons of blood and bruises that would be a stark reminder of her submission.

Y/N's eyes squeezed shut, and she bit down on her bottom lip so hard she could taste blood. The tears that fell were a mix of agony and a twisted pleasure that she didn't dare acknowledge. Each movement of his knot sent jolts of electricity through her, making her toes curl and her back arch. It was a dance of pain and pleasure, one she never wanted to end despite the horror of it all.

Grey's breath grew ragged, his hips moving faster and harder. She could feel the tension building in him, his muscles tensing as he approached his climax. And as much as she didn't want to, she found herself matching his rhythm, her hips rising to meet his. The pressure was unbearable, a delicious agony that was pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

With a roar that shook the very trees around them, Grey's knot swelled to its full size, locking them together in a carnal embrace. The feeling was indescribable, a mix of pain and pleasure so intense it was like nothing she had ever felt before. Her own climax hit her like a freight train, her body convulsing around his, her eyes rolling back in her head.

But just as the pleasure crested, everything went black. The world around her disappeared, and she was lost in the darkness. The next thing she knew, she was floating, weightless, and disoriented. Her body felt strange, like it didn't quite belong to her anymore, and she couldn't tell where she ended and the world around her began.

When she finally came to, the first thing she felt was the softness of the bed beneath her, the unmistakable scent of pine and fur in her nose. She blinked her eyes open, and the world swam into focus. The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the moon that shone in through the open window. The bed she was in was massive, the sheets rough against her skin.

Grey was beside her, his fur ruffled and his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath. His hand lay possessively on her thigh, his claws retracted but still visible in the moonlight. Y/N's heart hammered in her chest as she took in the scene, her mind racing with the events of the night.

Her body felt used and abused, every inch of her tender flesh marked by his rough touch. Yet she couldn't ignore the stickiness between her legs, the evidence of their coupling that painted a vivid picture of her own participation. It was a stark contrast to the innocent girl she had been just hours ago, a stark reminder of the creature that now owned her.

Grey's grip on her thigh tightened in his sleep, and she flinched, the pain a sharp reminder of their reality. Carefully, she tried to slide away, but his hand followed her, keeping her in place. The warmth of his body was surprisingly comforting, the heavy weight of his arm draped over her was a bizarre source of security in the aftermath of the horror.

Her mind raced, trying to process what had just happened. She had been claimed by a monster, used, and marked as his territory. Yet she couldn't shake the feeling of contentment that filled her as she lay there, nestled into the crook of his fur-covered body. It was as if some primal part of her had been awakened, some ancient instinct that craved the protection of the man.

With trembling hands, she reached out, her fingertips brushing through the thick fur that covered his chest. His breathing was steady, his body warm and comforting against hers. Y/N allowed herself to sink into him, her body molding to the contours of his muscles, her cheek resting against the firmness of his chest.

For a moment, she closed her eyes, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. It was a strange sense of peace amidst the chaos, a tranquility she never thought she would find in the arms of her captor. She felt his chest rise and fall beneath her, his breathing slow and even. She slowly fell back asleep, awaiting what would come in the morning.

[skyrigel]

Break-up

Characters : Mattheo Riddle, Draco Malfoy, Tom Riddle, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini. Pancy Parkinson ( background )

How Slytherin boys will react when you ask them for break up.

Warning : might be toxic, alcoholism, possesive and obsessive behaviour, Reader feels they are too much ( in Blaise Zabini hc, you can skip that )

Mattheo Riddle

He's not going to listen a word so don't even bother.

He will shut you up real quick in more than one way, speaking too loud, cutting you mid, changing topics and rushing to classes that don't even exist and his most favourite, kissing you.

He would kiss you so hard that every thought inside your head would evaporate in fuzzy vapour, the bubbles in your head popping with each moan that would escape your throat.

“You were saying something?” He would ask so wickedly, amused with the dumb look you have plastered on your face and relishing while your fumble within words.

“ I don't think it's important." He would take your hand, kissing the inside of your palm, his sweet words vibrating through your skin.

“ yeah, not important.”

Draco Malfoy

Ofcourse he would be a nonchalant bastard about it, despite the brimming tears at the inside of his eyes.

“ oh, fancy potter now, don't you ? ” he would snarl, accusingly, his voice harsh and contempt choking him.

Draco would do everything wrong, say the wrong things, do even more.

He would start by parading Pancy around, so desperate that he would also accept Miss Greengrass's date invite.

But he would also cry, as soon as the facade will crumble, he would grip the sink till his knuckles went white, face wet and red with tears that wouldn't stop.

Then a word with his mother would do the miracle and the next thing you know would be a very drunk Draco howling and sobbing his undying love for you, refusing to leave and would make everyone listen how much he loves you, and how you belong with him.

“ Draco.” you winced at the grimness left behind after dries tears, softening.

“ Go back to your dorm.”

“ kiss me night and i'll go.” Draco slurred, you were pretty sure you smiled as soon as he said 'fight' instead of night.

“No.”

“ Yes!” He would lean down at you, pouting, and how much you loved this boy, all his tantrums, all his shenanigans. Your pretty, smart and silly boyfriend.

“Okay.” you breathed, pecking his cheek, tasting his tears and how much you hated it.

“ I'll be good...good for you.” he will be, you thought.

Tom Riddle

“ You decided that yourself ? ” Tom would whisper ever so dangerously, pressing closer, you could hear the pitch silence outside the tapestry.

“ It's not... It's not working Tom.” you knew he loved you but he was gone half the time, half the time with books that were too bold and dark, of magic that was malicious beyond your wits.

“ yeah ? ” He would smear his thumb across your face, kneading your cheek and you tried your best to stay quiet but the arousal that lurched inside you, just by his mere touch, sometimes just the way he looked at you, like he was part of your soul.

Tom would smirk, delighted when you moaned for him like that, he wasn't accepting at first how you drived his crazy just by existing. He wouldn't let you go, never ever.

“ I want to bury my soul into you.” His nose mapping your neck, taking your scent.

“ oh.” you trembled when his hands worked their way inside your shirt, cold rings blazing in your warm flesh.

“ But it will take time my darling.” his disappointment flushed when he looked up at you, breathless and hot under him.

“ so for now...” his mouth twitched, Head boy Tom Riddle, sinking to his knees, eyes glinting so bright. Oh how much he wishes to mingle your souls together, how much.

Theodore Nott

He's going to sensible, furrowing hard but listen when you tell him all the reasons how it could'nt work , he's considerate enough to pat your back, soothing you, when you break down in between.

“ If you need time baby, then I'll be patient.” he would say, kissing your forehead.

He wouldn't sit next to you in classes despite his soul wanting to crawl out of his body and embrace you.

Theo only sometimes snuggled next to you in armchair, you couldn't even blame him for it was too cold

He was on his best behaviour ignoring the totally 'accidental' beat ups of guys who were going to ask you or almost did, but in either way they never showed up.

“ I see you aren't dating anyone.” He would make no attempt to get up from your lap, discarding your homework with a swish of his wand.

“ shut up, or i will pour this ink pot on you.” you would bristle like a cat, it was inevitable not to card your fingers in his hair, scratching his scalp, he relaxed into your touch, chuckling.

“ It wasn't me.”

You sighed, looking at the bruised knuckles because your baby wasn't even trying to be subtle. He could have used his wand, phew.

“ c'mon, now can we please date again ? ” He would look up with puppy eyes, sticking out his lower lip to look extra cute. Shit, you shouldn't have told him that.

“ You guys stopped dating ? ” Draco asked, brow raised in question.

“ hey.” His fingers reached to trace your jaw, arching a little as you gaped a soft, ‘Theo’

“ Please, please, please.” He pleaded, his chin raised, as if he could claim your lips just like that.

“ Get yourself a room ! ” Pancy snapped, Theo only sneered while you looked away flushed pink.

“ Theo, stop.” you whined, when he got up, hawling you up in his arms as you wacked him repeatedly.

“ I've been a good boy.” he would mouth, smiling when you would hide your blush in the crook of his neck.

“ The only thing I am interested in breaking with you,” a pause, “ is my bed.”

Blaise Zabini

“ What did I do wrong ? ” that's his first question and you're already guilty.

“ It's just everything is so messy Zab, it's too much for me.”

He couldn't say anything more, the lump in his throat strangling each sound that passed between his cartilage.

“ Blaise...” you whispered when his whole face, that shined brighter than the whole sky withered away.

“ Hey...” you cooed and nudged him lightly and it was enough to break free the sob that grasped his chest, his whole heart. He hiccuped before large tears streamed down his coppery skin, gleaming in the basking glow of midnight.

“ Don't... please..d.. don't ” he sobbed harder, his whole body shaking.

You wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him closer till your heart were crossed.

“ I am too much Blaise... Like a black hole.” you could never take away his glisten, never.

“ I love you.” he said, wrapping himself around you, closing his eyes as tear escaped and brushed against your clothes, love lorned and love sick.

“ I love you too.” because how could you not say it back ? When he loved you like you were the most precious one to him.

You will try, try your best and let him shine, protect him from your drakness, you have to try your best.

New Mattheo fic - Don't blame me

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[nemesyaaa]

pygmalion au // rafe cameron x reader

summary ; “ you love someone you can shape, who has no will to escape. ” artist!rafe x muse!reader.

warnings ; unsafe feelings. slight of angst. smut. kind of fantasy/magic. art glorification. attachment issues. innocent!reader. fear of losing somebody. first time. rafe being a lost boy. dubcon. pygmalion' weird story. toxic!rafe. mentions of drugs. oral (m. receiving). p in v. insecurities. praising. artist hands appreciation. minors DNI.

author's note : 3,5 k words for this. one-shot. also a lot of tummy appreciation (tysm @shawtycoreee 🫶🏿). out of the smut, i tried to write it so poetic 😭🤟🏿

— “ wrap me up, enfold me. i am small and needy. warm me up and breathe me. ” breathe me by sia.

it was alone and late at night that rafe cameron began to create you, not really knowing at the time he started his art what work you would produce. he only cut the stone with his hands. before forming your body, he fantasized about it internally, not really knowing what a woman's anatomy actually looked like. you were like a crazy dream he was trying to sort out, a fantasy he was trying to make real. he sculpted with his straight calloused and tired hands, manipulating the fragile and sensitive material with precision.

he hated doing badly, but it was what he did best. as he worked, he sank into his own fascination. you were magnificent, no, you were divine, the glorious treasure from his hands. it was scary and breathtaking. he had never done anything so beautiful, never created anything so charming. you had this firm, seductive chest, completely bare and hard, the movement of the stone making your belly round and chubby. you were carved in marble, an inanimate statue that had found favor in the eyes of his creator.

when he had finished your face,

he had been amazed but above all frightened by what his fingers had achieved. he had given shape to your lips, your nose, your mouth and your eyes. and now that you had a look, it was like you were confronting him. because now that you had pupils, you could look at him too, you could judge him too. you could be as superior as him, but also equal to his worth.

you were his most beautiful work of art, literally his ethereal and angelic muse. and above all, you made him nervous. not only were you realistic, but you were a woman, you were like one of the goddesses from greek mythology, completely naked.

it was unexpected, but he had knelt before you, before your altar, on his legs and his hands. he was so white and desperate like a lost sinner having only his god to pray and glorify in order to survive.

you had seen his lips part in a prayer, his mouth tighten in a whisper. and you had ears, certainly made of stone, but you had heard it. you had heard his wish lost in the void. yet he had nothing of a believer, you could hardly imagine this man on the benches of a church, but you were also cruelly incapable of seeing and understanding who he really was.

when he stood up, you felt his hands on your skin, the coldness of his ring, but also the awkwardness of his touch. you could tell it was the first time he touched someone intimately, because he didn't really know where to put his hands but he also didn't know how to touch you without destroying you.

rafe cameron was not a god. he could break anything he touched. and maybe that was why he was so nervous and pathetic. you belonged to him now that he had created you so he refused to lose you without even knowing you.

he had hoped that god would make you a real woman, because you were perfect, too sublime to be just a piece of stone.

he didn't need to pull himself up to reach you, he was much taller, more intimidating in terms of size. he could lift you up and control you with just one hand.

you looked so alive so why, why did he only hear one heartbeat in the room? why was he alone breathing in this cold and empty room? why did you only have life in appearance?

you could feel in his look that he was questioning, that he was troubled, that all the beauty of his blue eyes was overwhelmed. but you had also felt his face so close to yours, his breath fanning across your molded lips. he had been hesitant, but his mouth had finally found yours.

and you surprised yourself by loving the taste of his pretty lips, but above all by being able to touch it.

and it was like that kiss had been real enough of how he felt about you that god had decided to give him a chance.

you had sensed all the ivory of your body, of your muscles, becoming sublimely gorgeous, all your stone beauty becoming human and alive. as if his devotion had allowed you to be free and to exist.

when he felt your mouth melt on his, he pulled back in fear. you weren’t supposed to be real even if he wanted you to be. since when did statues come to life?

"oh fuck, what's going on here?... i think i'm going crazy...all that fucking coke…”

“you created me.” you replied, slightly hurt by his reaction because he was supposed to be happy.

"no, you're not supposed to be alive. i mean, you're art, you can't be human."

“i’m human!” you contradicted, stepping forward from your marble base.

rafe wasn't sure if it was a nightmare or a dream. but his gaze was anchored on you, he couldn't take every inch of his eyes off your body. he was magnetized by your magnificence.

you came just close enough to take his hand and place it against your chest. “don’t be cold to me. don’t leave me. what would i do without you? you can't reject me. you need me. ”

maybe that was the game changer for rafe cameron. because he had just understood that since you were his, you belonged to him, you were entirely dependent on him. you couldn't escape, and above all, you had no desire to.

he could do what he wanted, you were like a doll created to respond to the slightest of his favors without ever complacent. you were not only perfect but unimaginable.

” be on your knees for me.”

and the next second, you were staring at him waiting for another order.

"mmh...i know your body by heart. i shape all of this. but you have never seen mine. no worry, i'm going to fix that, okay? you're going to please me tonight and not make me regret 'have given you life?”

you nodded in agreement and he smiled because you were too innocent, too sweet for someone like him. he had unzipped his pants, making them fall to his legs like his boxers.

and it was the first time you saw a naked man in front of you, but it was also fair for you because you had no clothes. “let me help you…” he offered with a smirk. his thumb had rolled over your lips, creating a slight slit between them. “ you need to open that pretty mouth wider...” he added, taking advantage of your vulnerability to use you.

"you know it will only hurt if you don't relax. so don't be tense. because even if it's big, you're gonna take it, doll. not gonna be easy on you because it's your first time. show me what you can do baby, let me feel how grateful you are for your creator. "

he had pushed his tip against your lips, forcing his way into your mouth, making you open bigger to accommodate his cock in your cavity. it was new to you, and you weren't even sure if you could satisfy him because it was the first time you had done something like that, and especially used your mouth in that way.

you thought this area was used to create intimacy between people, not to do dirty things.

“baby, i really appreciate how sweet you can be, but don’t let me do all the work…” he had scoffed. and your heart skipped a beat when he shoved himself further in your mouth, so much so that you felt him hit the back of your throat, all the speed of his harshly strokes leaving you breathless.

you choked on his movements, saliva pooling and dripping between the corners of your enlarged lips. “that’s what happens when you don’t do your part of the job properly…” his tone was falsely accusatory as you couldn’t catch your breath from his pace. he had no pity, you had turned on him too much. and to fix it, he blamed you by harassing your throat with his fat cock.

"but since you leave me no choice, let me show you how to be a good girl for me..." he had plugged your nose, pinching it hard, forcing you to take him entirely, without being able to breathe. his length swallowed in and out, your tongue barely able to support his weight which grew as he bullied your lips.

you belonged to him so he didn’t care if he ruined you a little. he told himself that he would repair you.

he released your nose when he felt you were about to pass, with a sadistic giggle. your eyes were wet with tears. “oh baby, don’t give me that look, you’re wasting your time, i don’t feel pity. ”

you continued to pump him until your jaw arched tighten and become more tense. he pulled out for a moment, spitting in your tongue, before using your throat again. his grunts were frantic and rapid, hot breaths in sync with the pornographic sounds that emanated from your sucking. his large palm was wrapped around the back of your neck, controlling your posture. “ give me that sweet eyes again, and i will make them cry.”

he took so much pleasure in watching you swallow him hard, grunting every time he entered your throat hoping to relax it but causing the opposite effect. "'ot finished. take those balls too." he had pulled back to lift his painfully throbbing dick and place it against his stomach, you had started to lick them, letting your tongue work the entire surface, coating them with saliva. "feel? how full they are. they're gonna stuff you real bad. " you sucked on them when he pushed them directly into your mouth, making him let out throaty sounds. your mouth felt so good, he wondered if your pussy would be just as her.

between your legs, it was completely soaked. your sloppy slit dripping onto the floor. it wasn’t like rafe was ignoring that mess. he was just purely mesmerized by your lips, by the way you cupped his balls so well, and how his cock reacted to each of your licks.

you were definitely his best work. it was more than art, it was heavenly. he was incapable of not using you after creating you. he had his urges, and you had to respond to them.

he had started fisting his length, leaving you lapping at his genitals dangling above your face. the cum had gushed through the air, landing on you. he had rubbed his trailing tip on your cheeks, giving a new color to your skin.

he wondered if you were human enough to feel all this degradation. in a short movement, he had placed you in front of the standing mirror of the workshop, and had driven his body against yours. he spat into his hand before jerking off a little, pressing the head of his cock against your sticky dirty folds.

he placed his arm across your stomach, one hand gripping one of your breast, pressing it more firmly once lodged inside you and grunted as he felt how tight you were, how hard your pussy stretched in his path. thanks to the mirror, he could see each of your reactions, but above all, see your part pumped each of his inches. all his size had disappeared between your flowing walls.

your twitching cunt clenched around his girth, your canal squeezing him. his thrusts were merciless, burrowing into your soiled folds. rafe rocked his hips roughly, as his dick bullied your puffy core. he wondered how a loser like him could have created a goddess like you. and he was desperate to know if he could make you stupid, if his cock that destroyed and filled you was good enough for someone like you.

you had created a mess and frustration in him.

he was in love with the bouncing flesh on your tummy against his arm, your tits swaying when you took him. it was a grace.

he reached out and hit your spot every time he buried himself inside you, his face sank in your left shoulder. you could feel the strands of his hair against your skin, his mouth against your collarbone. you were his, he was fucking you like this. you were only alive when he touched you. you could feel his obsession and adoration in every thrusts, no matter how brutal they were. it was his way of showing you that you couldn't escape him and that you could never.

his rhythm was hard, as your pudgy tummy jiggled under his strong fingers who were digging into you. you were so giddy, fucked like a ragdoll not able to said if it was the butterflies that make your stomach spiraling, or that thick dick shoved inch by inch further into your messy slick. his other digits at your clit, massaging the small and eager bud. he was big enough to maneuver you and embraced your small frame with his muscular biceps.

you were too little, too fragile underneath him.

he was your creator, he gave you air but he could also take it away from you. you were completely dependent, not only you, but every crumb of your body. he was pounding into you with the inability to detach his cock from your fluffy pussy. he loved hearing your voice choked with tears and moans against his ear. it was a sweet melody, a symphony.

your body was perfect, straddling his, your skin slapping his. your lips gurgling around his fingers that you could no longer take without dropping them, because of his violent assaults. you drooled all over your mouth, struggling with the drool that splashed all over his hand.

you couldn't see anything anymore, it was blurry. you didn't even feel tired anymore, you felt like a stupid doll, unable to think and reflect, only able to take this cock nastily harassing you and stretching you violently.

with his muscular and heavy hand on your throat, he forced you to look at the mirror. there was something incredible and perfect in his hands, and you knew it from the moment he started sculpting you. they were so good and incredible, covered with veins that systematically bulged. they captured your belly fat well. “don’t hide this from me. it’s my property.”

he had harpooned your flesh between his fingers, making it move and hang down more as he fucked you senseless.

“if i shaped you like that, that meant i wanted you like that.” your tummy was caged in his grasp. “ i mean, look at that belly, it's all beauty, i swear.”

he had moved his hand to the lower part of your stomach, pressing that area of your skin, feeling his bulge farther in you. in this corner of the room, there was only you and him, only your whimpers against his fingers and the pleasure you felt. there was only this mirror that stared at you and reflected you in the darkness with the only light of the moon as a beacon.

you were divine, you had the perfect body of a goddess. and even having cum with you, even causing your third orgasm, he didn't want to pull out. it was as if he was afraid of the emptiness he expected after this. and maybe you too were dreading the emptiness inside you after he filled you up so well, your soaked pussy dripping with his cum, drooling all over the floor.

he had finally taken it out, his fingers entering you to collect his mixture and place it against your lips. “don’t let it go to waste.”

you had cleaned his fingers until they were pure again.

he had his eyes on you, like a human in front of art.

he still didn't realize. but he refused to let you escape. but it wasn't like you could. he had created a home here, all over this room and in you. he had established a domain in every inch of your skin. he only had to see you to know that you were his own creation.

you kissed him, slightly awkwardly but he made up for it with his mouth on yours. “you can’t abandon me.” he whispered. “i don’t want to abandon you.”

and it felt good to hear your words. you didn't know him well enough, or not really, to know how sick he was. but you felt grateful that he gave you life, because it was priceless. he had made you, and you were his.

“ what are you doing?” when you felt chains encircling your wrists, you weren’t sure if you liked it. "i really want to believe in you sweetheart but i also can't trust anyone. you have legs, you can run away from me but with this metal, you're stuck.”

“i don’t really like it…” you admitted and he replied “no one likes it but the difference is that you don’t really have a choice either. you're mine. your feelings, your body, your eyes, all of that is mine. even that pouty sweet face of yours. ”

you turned your head to let him know that you didn't appreciate it, and to give him the silent treatment. and he smiled. “it doesn't kill me, baby. you can pout. ”

you didn’t respond. "you really want to give me this treatment? maybe you really don't want me to be nice to you after all..."

he had smiled. “"okay...I'll give you what you want." he had disappeared for a few minutes before coming back with an object that you couldn't identify. " what is this ? "

"now, baby wants to talk...but it's a little too late, i'm making the rules here so...say hello to your new favorite toy. it's a gagball.”

you didn't feel it was useful until the ball went into your mouth and stopped you from speaking. you could only drool and grumble around the object.

"why that face, baby? that's not what you wanted? i swear you still look pretty. just quieter. i'm going to go to sleep. and tomorrow you'll show me how sorry you are for that attitude. you want to know if i would forgive you? maybe it would be too easy, you understand? you have all night to prepare excuses and they better please me because i can be even more creative than that to punish you. “

the next day he woke up in a good mood. and above all, you were always there.

he had picked up the bottle of water from his table, wondering if you were thirsty. but when he arrived in front of you, he changed his mind. he used it to wake you up.

"i'm so clumsy...sorry, baby." but there wasn't an ounce of regret in his voice so you knew he was joking. you learned to read his face.

“you know how sorry i am…” he added, facing your gaze.

“you’re not…”

"yes, right. such a clever baby. are you thirsty?”

" yes..."

“maybe if you show me how good and nice you are today, i can consider bringing you another bottle.”

"what do you want..."

“it’s not what i want, sweetheart. but what you will do to satisfy me. see the small difference ? ”

it had been several weeks, a month in fact, since the day of your creation. you had spent your time in this workshop, chained to this wall. you were only alone when rafe left, when he left you in the shadows.

in fact, he was clearly having fun with you. you were dependent on his affection, and he knew it. you reacted to the slightest attention he gave you, even the most mean and bad. but above all you were incapable of hating rafe cameron.

he had made you a magnificent creature, a living human, you would be even crueler than him if you hated him.

after all, you were his muse. he had the right to use you. that was also the thought he had drilled into your brain.

everything he did was for you. and you should be grateful.

but sometimes he wondered, if he killed you, would you come back to life? was there magic in you or was he just in a fucking wonderful dream? he did enough coke to get high for days but this time it lasted too long for it to be fake.

your relationship was strange because sometimes you felt loved, especially when he hugged you after being rough with you, his palm gently caressing your back. like any human, there was tenderness in him. he could be nice. he knew how to be one but that didn't mean he enjoyed being one. he just thought that if he was too mean, you would disappear.

and that was not something he could tolerate. during all this time spent with you, he had not learned, no, he had not succeeded, to live without you.

artists brought art to life, but art gave meaning to the artists' lives.

before you, he was alone.

he had prayed for you. he needed you. it was his final call.

rafe cameron fell in love with you before he created you, before he even imagined you.

and maybe that was why he was so mean to you, because he never knew love, so how can you blame him for not knowing if you loved him back or make fun of him?

he was pathetic, full of rage and violence. but you couldn't hate him, because you and him shared the same tears. the same pain.

he made you, and you made him. he was afraid and you were scared. you wanted someone to love you, and he wanted someone that could love him.

“ i swear, y/n. don't leave me alone. even when you looked away, you make me feel like a monster when i'm not. so please, do the same as me. ”

“ what ? ”

“ don't make me feel like somebody else exists. i'm the only world you can live in. ”

[backwzzds]

ೃ⁀➷ spoil you, plug!eren

eren hated when you spent your own money, but you don’t listen.

thinking about the way plug!eren would take you on his drops with him. you were so quiet and in your own world, he never minded the fact that you had your freshly white painted toes resting against the dash of his mercedes AMG coupe. the entire car was blacked out with expensive ceramic tints, protecting you both from your usual…late night activities.

your glasses rested on the cute bridge of your nose as your left leg was sat in eren’s lap while your right rested against the dashboard. eren was lucky that he fucked with most of his customers heavy…you two had been waiting for the dude to meet y’all for nearly thirty minutes now, and had it been someone else, eren would have sped away long time ago.

eren comfortingly rubbed your baby soft feet in the grasp of his tattooed hand, one with beautiful realism art of your own eye. with a turn of his head, he could see you practically nose deep in the bright screen of your phone illuminating through the car. “you growing bored mama?” his voice is concerned. “ian think we was gonna be waiting this long on dude…my bad baby.”

you hadn’t said much since you’d gotten in the car, just wanting to hurry and add all of your things to your shopping cart on the skims website. “nah, ‘m just…trying…to do somethin’ real quick,” you bite your lip as you tap away on your phone. you were trying to add as many things to your cart before it was gone. “before this shit sell out.”

eren being the nosy boy he is leans against your shoulder to see what you were doing. but the moment he’d seen you type in numbers that belonged to what he knew as your own debit card, he kissed his teeth in annoyance. “man how many times i gotta tell you to stop using your card to go shopping bae?” you roll your eyes at his words. “i’m serious, you got all three of my cards on ya phone for a reason. fuck is you typing in your info for?”

don’t get him wrong, eren loved the fact that you were independent and knew how to handle money almost perfectly now that you were in your twenties. but being together with you for so long, he continued to step up with his provider capabilities by always taking care of you. whether it was paying your bills, rent—everything in between.

but of course it was a struggle when ms. i can do it all by myself meets mr. i know you can but let me do it for you

“because i’m spending like 600 dollars,” you point out to his previous question with an obvious scoff. “i’m not asking you for that.” eren mirrors your actions and rolls his eyes again.

eren looks at you as if you’re insane and suffered memory loss for the past four years you’ve been together. “babe…i make that shit in one night. actually—fuck a night—i make that shit in two hours!”

it wasn’t like he was lying either, with the way that eren was one of the only trusted plugs in town, it was very easy that he’d bring at least a band a night on a consistent basis. selling for almost six years was finally paying off.

you two hardly ever fought, but if you did, it was always about money. eren knew how long you’ve had to do things on your own physically and financially. you couldn’t go to your mom for help, you didn’t have a dad to beg, so it was all on you since you’d been 16. but now that he had eren, he’d just wish you’d let him take the burden of money of your shoulders and take care of you the way you take care of him.

after a few minutes, your boyfriend holds his hand out. you give him crazy eyes, but eventually follow orders by putting your phone in his hand. “don’t know how many times i gotta tell yo stubborn ass, forreal,” he grunted. “‘s never a problem spoiling my baby. you don’t ever ask me for nothing. let me feel useful and get you stuff, mama.”

with a sigh, you nod your head, like you always did. there was no way eren was gonna take no for an answer when it came to spoiling his wife.

in response, eren uses his free hand to delete your information and instead place the correct numbers—the information to his amex black card. all the money he has, he sits and does nothing with it, so why not buy you all the things you’ve never had before?

when you hear the chime of your phone confirming your order, eren hands you the phone back and goes to look out his dark window.

with your acrylics, you grab eren by the neck and slowly turn him back to face you. “thanks papa,” you gave him genuine eyes.

eren leans forward and pecks your lips. with a serious face, he pecks you one more time before wrapping his tatted fingers around your neck erotically. with a look in your eyes he tells you, “always tell me what you want, no matter how much, mama. you know daddy gonna get that shit for you one way or another, regardless.”

[thekoalapastriesbakery]

I'M ONE OF THE GUYS

formula one x trans!male!driver!reader

request: how the fia would react to to y/n as a driver (or any of the drivers) almost being arrested in a country where it's illegal to be trans/gay ... that being a whole thing and the driver almost being kicked out of the race that weekend but doesn't and as a big f u to all the transphobic people running the race, they win the race that weekend - @moonandstarshyuck

summary: who gets arrested and then wins a race in f1? you.

warnings: swearing, transphobia, very minor suggestive content, very minor mention of oscar x reader, mentions of the fia and liberty media being assholes

face claim: faceless but uses pictures of other drivers + includes old/inaccurate photos for the plot lol, reader's team is inconsistent

fia.official

liked by pierregasly, f1, and 37,381 others

fia.official Statement regarding the events that occurred this morning.

tagged f1, youruser

                comments

user1 he got arrested???

user2 right? like what for???

user3 guys it's qatar, it's probably because he's trans

user4 HE'S TRANS???

user5 @/user4 you didn't know? bro is NOT secret about it?

user6 what do you mean he's not doing the sprint?

user7 the fia when a trans driver is subject to bigoted harassment: let's punish the driver! liked by youruser

user8 lmao y/n liked he's pissed

user9 oh he's gonna EAT this weekend i just know it

youruser

liked by lancestroll, logansargeant, and 1,258,770 others

youruser landed in doha! oh yeah, and i got arrested :))))

                comments

user10 he's so unserious help 😭

alex_albon what's with the last slide???

youruser idk it felt like an appropriate reaction

user11 y/n gets arrested and makes it the whole grid's problem

user12 he's so real for that i fear

user13 oh i am thinking Thoughts about y/n in handcuffs

"what do you mean the fia want me to drop out of the race?" you exclaimed, staring at your manager in disbelief. "they're too chicken shit to kick me out so they want me to drop out? fuck no."

"y/n, consider it, it's for your own safety—"

"bullshit, it is! they don't like that i'm trans and this just gives them a reason to get rid of me," you argued.

your manager sighed. she was used to you and your ... stubborn nature. of course, she understood your frustration. it was far from fair for the sport officials to try to kick you out when you were the victim. but sometimes, just sometimes, she wished you'd pick your battles a little more.

"so that's a no, then?"

"damn fucking right it is," you said, already leaving to get ready for quali, which you were now very nearly late for because the fia hadn't allowed you to participate in free practice or the sprint. "i'm racing. if they want to stop me, they have to do it themself. i refuse to be a doormat."

you were a good racer and a good driver, regardless of the situation, but it was impossible to deny that you were fiercer when you were pissed off. everyone talked about charles and max and even fernando being track terrors. usually, you were calm and collected and mostly flew under the radar no matter how well you did.

but this race?

there was no radar. there was just you.

qualifying p7 after not knowing if you'd even be allowed to race half an hour prior. the whole race had been a mix of daring overtakes, aggressive but fair battles, and a few shitty strategy decisions from your team. after a late pit stop that very nearly cost you the race, you managed to overtake oscar for the win.

f1

liked by kimi.antonelli, sebastianvettel, and 1,781,926 others

f1 Y/N L/N WINS IN QATAR!!!

After a rocky weekend and numerous distractions, Y/N proves once again that he belongs on the top step of the podium!

#F1 #Formula1 #QatarGP

tagged youruser

                comments

user14 KING SHIT

user15 who gets arrested and then wins a grand prix

user16 Y/N L/N, everyone 👏

user17 he's insane

user18 user17 he's an icon is what he is liked by youruser

user19 "rocky weekend" HE GOT ARRESTED

user20 not f1 posting this like they didn't try to get y/n to drop out of the race-

youruser

liked by jensonbutton, francolapinto, and 2,938,567 others

youruser say it louder, optimus prime

                comments

mercedesamgf1 y/n please take this down - toto

youruser no ❤️

user21 DADDY CHILL HE'S ONE OF THE GUYS

youruser fia.official f1

user22 oh he's MESSY messy

user23 i mean i'd be pissed too. they tried to make him drop out of the race. liked by youruser, lewishamilton, charles_leclerc, and others

oscarpiastri mega drive mate 💪

youruser thank you for recreating the fourth slide and drowning me😑

oscarpiastri youruser you know you liked it

user24 youruser on a mission to turn the whole grid gay

user25 the random mika/michael pic he's just like us fr

maxverstappen1 usually i'd be mad about the second photo but i think i'll let you have it this week

youruser like you could stop me any other week

f1 admin is very sorry ...?

fia.official seconded 🙇‍♂️

user26 i don't even follow f1 but i might start watching because y/n is unfairly cool for a man who drivers fast cars in wonky circles

youruser vroom vroom

user27 HELP

©thekoalapastriesbakery :: please do not copy or rewrite my work on any platform !!

author's note: first smau! hope you like it 🫶 partially inspired by the ve'ondre remix of it girl lol

comments + reblogs appreciated!

credits: photos from pinterest!

taglist: @raizelchrysanderoctavius @crispysoup318 @op-81-lvr-reblogs

[aurorawritestoescape]

A HELL OF A MORNING

Stepdad!Joel Miller x f!reader || 4,2k

part 2 of A Step Into Hell || can be read alone

Summary: Joel has his favorite thing for breakfast. His stepdaughter.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, step-cest, Joel’s POV, dub con but reader’s into it, big legal age gap, dark!Joel, perv!Joel, possessive!joel, f!oral, unprotected piv (wrap it up), blackmail, premature ejaculation, creampie, degradation, rough m!oral, brief choking on cock, slutshaming, praise kink, daddy kink, mention of public sex, spanking (1), cum eating, swearing. The pics are for the mood only. Reader has no specific physical descriptions. Joel can lift reader.

A/n: This mf wouldn’t leave my mind and after such a warm welcome of the first fic I’m happy to share more of his depravity with you. I hope you all will enjoy this new story❤️ A huge thank you to a lovely anon for this request and the inspo💕 Kisses to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing😘 Ilysm! Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

MASTERLIST || SERIES MASTERLIST

There you were. Sweet thing in her little shorts and a tight top, sitting across from Joel at the breakfast table. Beautiful and hot. Just like a week ago, and a week before that. The only difference was that this morning he knew the feel of your pussy squeezing his cock, knew the taste of your soft lips, the weight of your tits in his hands. This morning you were his.

While Joel’s wife was setting the table for the three of you, you were throwing shy glances at your stepdad from time to time. Joel fucking loved it. Loved how anxious you were about what you two had done the previous night, loved how you flinched every time he spoke, scared that he’d tell the secret to your mother.

‘Honey, got news for ya. I’m fuckin your daugher. Pass the salt?’

Fuck no! He’d never do that, never ruin this thing between him and his sexy stepdaughter. Having you on a leash like that, using your holes whenever he pleased was a gift. You belonged to him and he was going to do everything to keep owning you.

Joel felt like the luckiest man on the planet when his horny thoughts were interrupted by your mom.

“My head’s killing me. I’m going back to bed,” she complained after taking a sip of her coffee and then left the two of you alone in the kitchen.

Fuck. Yeah.

Joel bricked up in a second. His cock was already throbbing in his jeans from all the memories of the previous night that had been flashing in his mind as soon as he had woken up that morning. He’d jerked off in the shower, eyes closed, head full of images of his stepdaughter, coming on his fingers, his cock, her dildo. Thanks to you, his spank bank was full for months ahead but did he even need it when he had a real thing to corrupt and fuck?

After his wife went upstairs, his stiffness began to ache in anticipation. He got a mild kick out of it because he knew that the remedy was sitting right in front of him. Tight magic hole of his stepdaughter was within arm’s reach.

What a sight you were! Eyes downcast, chest heaving, you knew damn well what was going to happen. Maybe even wished for it. Joel had no doubts what a little slut you were. Surely you were excited about a good ol’ morning fuck just like he was. And Joel was ready to oblige, storing a thick breakfast sausage for his favourite girl.

“Ya know what I always wanted to do since you moved to mine?“

A shiver seemed to run over your whole body when his voice broke the ringing silence in the room and you saw your stepdad get up and plop into a chair next to you. You smelled good, sweet and flowery, and Joel began salivating like a hungry wolf over a bunny.

You looked up at him and shook your head.

“Wanted to eat ya out,” Joel replied and poked the wooden surface of the table with his thick finger. “Right — poke— here — poke.”

His heavy gaze fixed on you, he sneered at the way you squirmed in your seat and kept pressing your naked thighs together.

Gah! The horny slut was already soaking her lil shorts.

Joel had an hour or so before his wife would wake up and he was going to use every single second to play with his stepdaughter.

“Did you like your dickin down yesterday?”

You bit your lip, eyes fixed on your lap. Then you whispered, probably scared to be heard by your mother.

“Joel. It’s so fucked up.”

“What is, sweetie?” Joel cooed, scooting closer to you with his chair. “The part where you made recordings of your stepdad fuckin your mom? Or the part where you came hard stuffed full of my dick and your pink rubber cock? Aw, look at you squirmin, ya pussy achin?” he chuckled and pressed, ”What’s exactly fucked up? Tell me.”

“All of it.” Your voice was barely heard. Poor thing must be so confused, terrified, Joel thought. He almost felt sorry for you but the lust immediately took over and he put his bear palm on your naked thigh.

“Yeah, I reckon ya right. But what’s done is done. If hell exists we’ll be there together, babydoll. So let’s have some fun when we still can, yeah?” He roughly squeezed your thigh and you shook your head, looking elsewhere but him.

“Don’t you forget, missy, you have no other choice,” Joel reminded you with a dark smile and leaned forward, his breath fanning your cheek. Your gaze snapped up to his and your pupils dilated when his face got close.

“Ya scared we’ll get caught? I get it.” Joel’s hand slithered higher, inching closer to your covered pussy. “Don’t worry. I’m always careful. If I’m fucking you, means the coast is clear. Relax and enjoy the ride, yeah? And if by some wild chance we’re caught, come up with a lie. No offense but your mom ain’t the brightest. You’d be full of my cock on the couch and she’d think we’re just cuddlin.”

Joel took a sharp breath through his teeth.

“Fuck! why do I get so hard jus’ thinkin about it? Do I want her to watch me fuck you? What do you think?”

You scrunched your pretty nose but Joel didn’t fail to notice your squirming, your glossy eyes, your hardened nipples, tenting your top. He was happy to make you crazy for his cock and his dirty talk was working. Your body was succumbing to his horny taunting, but your mind was still fighting the inevitable.

“Stop it, please,” you begged, shaking like a little chihuahua. Your fear was making you tremble, but you were needy just as much as he was. A devilish smirk twisted Joel’s face as he continued,

“Let’s watch movies together. Every few days. We'll call it ’our bondin time’. You’ll be sittin snugly next to me on the couch. I’ll play with your pussy under a blanket, uh? You’ll try not to moan like a whore.”

“She’s not that stupid, Joel.” Your gaze got fiery, tone annoyed. Joel narrowed his eyes. Were you getting angry at him for tormenting you or at your mother for keeping you from getting railed by your stepdad on every horizontal surface in the house?

Smirking, Joel leaned back and spread his thighs wider. His cock was thumping in the confines of his jeans and he began palming it to get some relief.

He was torturing himself too, turning both of you to the max with his talk, but for sure the pay off was going to be worth it.

“Yeah, maybe we shouldn’t be that ballsy,” he rubbed his scruffy cheek as he spoke, “Damn, if I could tell everyone I’m fuckin your little cunt. Dream! Using your holes in the open. You’d be cockwarming me at the first poker night I hosted.”

Joel loved when your breath hitched.

”Imagine Tommy’s face when he sees my sweet stepdaughter creamin ‘round my cock in her short skirt. I’d love to show you off, babydoll. You’re a ten.”

Your eyes clouded up, fixed on the coffee mug in front of you, and you slowly licked your lower lip. You seemed to be imagining the picture he was painting and Joel knew that you loved what you were seeing in your little cock-obsessed head.

Joel snapped his fingers and you jerked, waking up from your depraved daydreaming.

“Ya were a good girl for me yesterday but here are my rules.”

Your glossy eyes were blinking at him as you mumbled,

“Rules?”

You looked so confused like there was no thought in your pretty head whatsoever. Hell! He wanted to fuck that head.

“Yeah. My house, my rules, sweetie. First. No panties allowed. I wanna know your pussy is free to play whenever I want. And ‘s hot to know that you walk around like that.. ready for daddy to use.”

“Ohh..ok,” you looked down and he saw a little smile dance on your lips. Joel’s face got dark.

“Ya wearin any now?”

You shook your head, your head still down.

“Good girl,” Joel smirked and slapped his thigh with a palm. His chest expanded thinking you’d done it for him and then his mind short circuited.

Almost holding his breath he asked,

“Ya still leakin me?”

Your gaze darted up as you murmured, “I don’t know.”

“Check. Now.”

His tone wasn’t leaving any room for discussion so you brought your hand to your shorts. Joel couldn’t wait to see it. His hand was palming his giant hard-on which was beating hard against his thigh when he saw your hand disappear in your shorts and you moaned softly.

“Two fingers. Stretched you good yesterday. Fuck yourself a little for me. Gather everything you can.”

You locked eyes with him, gaze foggy, while your digits were working your pussy. Joel cupped your cheek and stroked your face with his calloused thumb.

“Such a good slut for daddy.”

He saw you breathing faster as your hand was picking up the pace between your legs.

“Stop! Makin you come’s my job. Pull ‘em out.”

You retrieved your fingers and you both saw them glistening in the light of the morning sun.

Joel took your hand and you gasped when he shoved your fingers into his mouth. He licked them clean, humming at the taste and smacking his lips like a fucking TV chef.

“Yeah, delicious pussy … what’s that undertone? Ah! My jizz!“

Joel’s smile was full of lust and triumph.

“Your little pussy kept some of daddy’s milk. I bet she wants me to fuck it deeper into you. But I need a better taste first. Get up.”

Joel made you stand between his spread thighs and shoot his blown eyes up at your face as his hand grabbed your pussy and he began kneading your soft mound and folds with his thick fingers. His movements were possessive, harsh, but still pleasant, judging by your expression - lips parted, eyes hazy, ready to roll back any second.

“Now the second rule. No boys in this house or anywhere else. You can fool around with your girlfriends if ya into that, I don’t give a fuck, but I don’t want any dicks around her, ya hear me? I want your pussy hungry for cock. My cock.”

Joel’s dick was unbelievably hard, trying to poke out of his jeans. ‘Fuck it! I’m in my own house. If I wanna pull the shlong out I will,” Joel thought and unzipped the fly with a carnal smile. His cock jumped out as soon as it was free and bobbed, looking engorged and ready to explode. But after tasting you, Joel craved more.

He spread his thighs wider, noticing the way you darted your eyes down to get a peek of his length.

“Miss it, babydoll? haven’t seen him all night, yeah?”

Joel pulled you closer by your hips, leaned down and pressed his nose right into your clothed mound.

You gasped and grabbed him by the shoulders, trying to steady yourself.

“What are you…?” the only thing you had time to say before a moan escaped your lips when Joel’s hot tongue licked your pussy over the thin material of your cotton shorts. They soaked in his saliva in a second and through the wet fabric he could easily feel your pulsating clit under his tongue. He was sure you felt his hot muscle there too by the way you fluttered your eyes shut and bit your lower lip.

For a few moments he kept kneading your asscheeks and licking over your shorts, soaking them and turning you on more and more.

Then your eyes snapped open and you looked at the door. Joel parted from your clothed pussy for a second to reassure you,

“Don’t worry, baby. There’s a squeaky step at the top of the stairs. I’ll know she’s comin.”

His words seemed to relax you a little and you held onto his shoulder tighter, trying to sway less under Joel’s hungry groping.

And his hunger was getting unbearable.

“Hop on the table, little slut.” Joel’s chin and mustache were glistening with his saliva. His voice was gruff and impatient. You did what he said, like a good girl, and your stepdad lifted your hips and pulled your shorts down, exposing you. In a second they were lying on the floor. The next command sounded like a growl as Joel sat closer to you in his chair.

“Feet up.”

You obediently placed your feet on the edge, hands planted behind you on the table. “Hey there, beautiful. Daddy’s ready to play.”

The sight of your cunt was driving Joel mad. Like a starving man, he buried his nose between your wet folds and took a big whiff off your drenched pussy. He’s never smelled anything hotter and groaned at the scent. You were so wet he could drink you for hours and he didn’t see any reason not to start. His hot tongue began sliding all over your cunt, gathering your slick off every crevice and fold, slurping and licking with obscene noises. Joel spread you open with his thick fingers so he wouldn’t miss a drop of your tangy nectar and his eyes were closed as he groaned against your perfect cunt.

When he opened his hazy eyes an image of you— jaw slack, chest and belly heaving, lashes fluttering- almost made him jizz all over your thighs. You looked gone, absolutely overdosed on pleasure.

Joel had to stop. The taste and the feel of your little cunt sent his cock and balls into a frenzy and he had planned to pump you full.

But when you looked at him and whispered a quiet ‘daddy, please’, his mouth as if by itself latched onto your crying pussy and he continued sucking, licking, nibbling on your folds and clit. You raked your fingers through his curls, scratched his scalp with your nails, and Joel moaned into your heat. He’s never been so horny in his life, never wanted anyone so strongly and it felt like he might have died if his balls weren’t drenched soon. His cock was leaking rivers of pre-fuck juice but Joel wanted to last, wanted to come inside you again.

“Want daddy’s tongue in your hole, baby?” Joel asked, brushing your puffy clit with his thumb and taking in the sight of you. You were longing for a release and it didn’t surprise him when you nodded eagerly.

“No, tell me. Wanna hear it.”

“Please, fuck me with your tongue, daddy,” you murmured and your blown puppy eyes and a thirsty- slut expression sent his tongue right into your flattering hole. Joel moved his head back and forth, reaching with his thick tongue as deep as it would go, lapping off your slick that was flowing out of you generously. His hands were kneading your thighs, until one snaked up to your chest and under your top. He found your soft tit and began groping and squeezing it while his tongue was thrusting into your tight hole.

Joel’s plans crushed when you started coming. Your walls began clamping on his tongue, your legs trembling, but what caused his misfire was your needy ‘daddy—daddy— ‘m coming— ahhh’. That and the sight of your face all ecstatic and sexy made him thrust his hips up, his balls drew up and his cock began spurting cum all over the place like a damn volcano. Growling and cursing through his teeth, Joel grabbed it by the base, trying to minimize the damage but all in vain. His creamy jizz landed on your thighs, your twitching clit, puffy folds, his neck, his jeans and the table. It was a fucking mess.

When Joel stopped coming, he pushed his sweaty hair back with his hand and leaned back on the chair. Panting, you placed your feet on the floor and stood up on your shaky legs in front of him. Joel’s cum was sliding down your thighs so you padded to the counter and grabbed a paper towel. You cleaned yourself up, then came back and handed some to Joel. But he kept sitting, watching you, legs spread, cock softening but still huge resting on his left thigh.

“Bad girl.”

“Hm?”

“Made me come without stickin it up your pussy.”

“I —Joel, I didn't do anything.”

“Bullshit.” He was fuming. He hadn’t busted a nut like that since he’d been a teen. Fucking embarrassing.

You needed to be punished.

“On your knees. Lick it up.”

“Joel..”

“Lick. It. Up.” His tone was cold.

He saw you swallow loudly, eyes full of fear of the steel in his voice. He didn’t pity you at that moment, his hunger for you had been temporarily satiated and everything he felt then was the desire to possess, control, bend your will to his.

The sight of you kneeling between his legs put a dark smile on his face, and when you swiped your little tongue over his hairy thigh, gathering the spilled cum, it morphed into a grin.

”Everything, babydoll,” he commanded and leaned forward to grab his mug off the table. The coffee was lukewarm but it would do, he needed to rehydrate after busting such a big load. The load you were eating off his soft cock right that moment.

”Bon appetit, little whore,” Joel gloated, sipping his drink, as you were working on cleaning him, your eyes fluttering shut from time to time. You were swallowing his jizz again and again, your tongue soft and hot, and soon Joel began enjoying not only your humiliation, but also the sensation of your gentle tongue dancing over his dick, his balls, his inner thighs.

Joel was chewing on his lower lip, eyes blown, as his cock was waking up.

You were pulling away from his hardening length but suddenly Joel‘s strong hand pushed your head down, spearing your mouth with his cock.

Joel’s fat tip hit the back of your throat and you gagged. Your nails sank into his thighs, teary eyes snapped up to his face with panic, as he was making you choke on his thick dick.

“What is it, babydoll? Ain’t used to huge shlongs, uh? ‘s ok, we’ll train ya,” he cooed, bringing the mug to his lips. He took a sip and then let you free. You coughed, wiping your chin with the back of your hand and glaring at him.

Joel put the mug back on the table and his hand, wrapped around your upper arm, pulled you up on your feet.

While you were still catching your breath, Joel manhandled you down onto his lap. You whined but didn’t fight it. The sensation of your wet pussy pressed to his crotch, your juicy naked ass on his thighs injected a new shot of arousal into his veins.

“Daddy’s back in business, sweetie. C’mon, sit on ‘im.“ Joel lifted you up slightly and then, holding his cock at the base, slid the leaking head between your soaked folds, searching for heaven.

“Bull’s eye,” he chuckled when his fat tip caught on your sloppy entrance.

“Make her eat him—bet ya pussy’s hungry — yeah—hnggg”! he grunted, feeding your cunt his dick in one go. You arched your back and softly whimpered.

“Still tight as fuck. Shit.”

You were sitting on his length fully, warm and wet, and Joel’s arms snaked around your body, caging you in, keeping you close.

“Damn, this cunt of yours… fuckin made for me… to milk my cock… to drive me crazy.”

All you could muster to reply was a moan which came out louder than Joel expected.

“Fuck,” he growled and crashed his mouth against yours, his big hand on the back of your head. You didn’t fight him, maybe it would have been hot if you’d done a little, but your submission, your desire for his cock, was feeding Joel’s ego, making him throb harder, grow faster inside you.

Kissing you, he felt your pussy thump around him, squeeze his already stiff shaft tighter with every beat of your fluttering heart.

“Ride me, ride my dick,” Joel groaned, parting from your whimpering lips, and almost choked when you began moving up and down, slowly first, helping yourself with your hands planted on his broad shoulders and then picking up the pace. His bear paws were kneading your ass, lifting you up in assistance while your walls were massaging his cock just right.

“Yeah—she’s somethin, babydoll— best pussy I had— swear—fuckin hell.”

You seemed to love bouncing on your stepdad’s dick. With sweat covering your forehead, you were glowing in the sunlight. If Joel were romantic he’d compare you to an angel. But he was a lust-driven, immoral asshole so he barked,

“Lovin it, horny slut?”

You didn’t reply, already cock dumb, too concentrated on your upcoming release. Suddenly you leaned forward and nuzzled his neck. Joel felt your tongue dance over his skin and he realized that you were licking off the cum left there.

“Good fuckin girl,” he praised you with a chuckle. “Ain’t even need to tell ya.”

Joel’s head fell back and his jaw got slack as you were kissing his jaw and neck, still riding him. When you pulled back, your lips and chin glistening, Joel dropped his head to watch your cunt swallow his shaft again and again. Your cream was gathering on the base of his cock and covering his coarse pubes.

Your movements were getting hectic, desperate, and Joel was ready to come too.

“Milk daddy again, babydoll. Make it right this time. Let me fill ‘er up.”

You pressed your body close to his with need and after moaning ’Daddy’ into the crease of his neck began shaking on his cock, squeezing it, pulsating, gripping it tight.

It sent Joel right over the edge and his dick spat a long rope of cum into your core, then another and another. He grabbed you by the waist and started moving you up and down, prolonging your orgasms, fucking his cum deeper. He wanted it inside you forever, claiming you, marking you, making you his. Joel squirted the final rope with his arms under yours, his hands pressing on your shoulders, pushing your whole body onto his cock. He emptied his balls to the last drop and you accepted his load moaning and whimpering.

Joel slouched in the chair, exhausted but satisfied, and you rested on his chest. A few moments later Joel looked at his watch and croaked, getting your attention with a light spank over your ass,

“C’mon up, sweetie. She’ll be up soon.”

Joel helped you to get up and cleaned his cum off the table with the paper towel. You weren’t helping. Standing by Joel, you looked drunk, your legs shaking. Your stepdad smirked after assessing your look and helped to put your shorts back on.

“Damn. Lookin like after a gangbang. Can you walk?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled and stumbled to the door, like a deer that recently learnt how to walk. Joel furrowed his brows. Your mom would definitely ask what had happened to you. Hopefully she wouldn’t see you sneaking up to your room.

Unfortunately, Joel’s luck ran out. He heard a squeak.

Fuck!

In three big steps Joel reached you and took you in his arms, bridal style. You gasped and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Follow my lead,” he said under his breath and carried you out of the kitchen.

“Oh my god, what happened?!” his wife exclaimed, frozen in the middle of the stairs.

“She hit her toe, honey. Clumsy girl. Don’t worry. I’ll help her up to her bedroom.”

You were nodding, looking sad, and Joel smirked in his mind. Little slut was ready to lie.

“Is it broken?” Your mom’s voice was worried.

“No, just hurts,” you replied with a shaky voice, ”I’ll be fine.”

Joel hurriedly walked up the stairs, carrying you in his strong arms, leaving you mother behind.

”Don’t worry, honey. I’ll get her everything she needs.”

“Thank you, Joel,” he heard his wife say on her way to the kitchen. Hopefully she won’t notice the scent of sex and cum there, Joel thought.

He shut your bedroom door behind him with his foot, carried you to the bed and laid you down.

“What did I tell ya? She’ll believe anythin,” he smirked, standing by the bed, his hands on his hips.

You smiled a little and leaned against the headboard with a sigh of relief.

Joel’s gaze slid down from your tired looking face to your shorts. An idea of pushing his cum back into your soft hole with his fingers flashed in his mind. No! He needed to return to the kitchen and reassure your mother. God forbid she’d come up to check on you and notice all the cum stains on your clothes.

“We had fun, uh, beautiful?”

“Yeah,” you mumbled.

“Wasn’t talkin to you,” Joel gruffed before bending down and petting your pussy over your shorts. You scuffed and Joel barked a loud laugh.

Then he left your bedroom with a wide smile on his face and thoroughly drained balls.

Thank you for reading! Comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic!<3

MASTERLIST || SERIES MASTERLIST || stepdad Joel drabble || more step family naughtiness

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