#identity v x female reader

[angelltheninth]

Luchino Diruse Loses Control While You're Giving Him a Blowjob

Pairing: Luchino Diruse x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, blowjob, reptilian traits, cockworship, boobjob, orgasm encouragement, cum swallowing, a bit of cockwarming, sub!Luchino Diruse

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Okay, yeah the evil reptilian professor got to me. You can't put this skrunkly loser in front of me and expect me not to wannna suck him off. Divider is by @adornedwithlight.

Luchino has been having a very hard time controling his more reptilian traits lately, he's not sure how much longel he'll be able to hold it in

You on the other hand don't want him to hold anything back

The reptilian side of him is till him, still your lover, your mad scientist that stole your heart

So you took it upon yourself to help him calm down... by taking care of his morning wood

By now his cock was already slightly different than a human one, with the slightest scaley ribbed feel against your tongue and breasts

As you wrapped your full lips around the even more sensitive head of his cock he moaned and his hips twitched upwards, his eyes still shut tight

You want him to look at you, to see that you love him, that you lust for him, and you always will

Seems like he needs a bit more encoragement to do that

Enveloping his cock even more with your soft tits you whisper words of praise against him, his too sensitive cockhead leaking cum as your warm breath hits it

Locks eyes with you right as you take him into your mouth again

With a smile you shake your boobs, massaging him while your mouth works on the parts of his cock that are left exposed

The temperature differance has him shaking

He can feel it so much more now, more every day that he becomes less human

Not that it will stop you, if anying it will make you want to keep his cock warm even more often

Perhaps under his desk while he works, you could keep it in your mouth

Or you could let him sleep with his cock balls deep in your warm cunt, so that when he wakes up and he's hard he can fuck you without issue

All your suggestions send tremors through his body that have nothing to do with his now colder blood

You can see his teeth sharpening as he tries to catch his breath

His fingers, now tipped with sharp claws, dig and tear the bed in an effort to keep still while he shoots jets of cum into your mouth, coating it with a taste that is familliar but slightly coolder

Again, you don't mind

You smile at him as you pull away, a white string of cum connecting your lips and his cock before it breaks off

More cum is still flowing and spilling onto your boobs as you massage his cock up and down with them

He's blushing, it's nice to know you can still make parts of him get hot and encourage his blood flow

[eliasmelody]

PART 2!

Tag: Evelyn x f! reader, Richard x f!reader, Sangria x f!reader, Ithaqua x f!reader, maid reader

Warning: grammar & spelling

INTRO:

The manor loomed in the distance, its silhouette hidden by thick mist. Occasionally, events would unfold within its walls, an enigma that few could comprehend. To survivors, they were a cruel mockery; to hunters, it was nothing more than a meaningless occurrence. Yet, no one understood the manor’s logic. All they could do was follow, drawn by its unrelenting pull.

✦.───────── ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ───────── .✦

Faro lady - Evelyn Mora

She notices your gaze on her dress and can't help but smirk. Evelyn is aware of her own beauty and how it affects others. In the past, she used it for her own advantage in high society, gaining trust and maneuvering through social circles. So it's not surprising that she finds your reaction amusing.

But still, a compliment is a compliment, and she is eager to accept every bit of it.

"Ah, you have a good eye for beauty. I have to admit, I do look quite captivating in red, don't I?" She said before you could even utter a word. With a small twirl, she let the skirt of the dress flutter slightly. The fabric clung to her figure, accentuating her slender waist and curves, as she basked in the attention.

You blush and nod shyly, barely managing to whisper.

"Oh~ Don't be jealous, sweetheart. I'm sure we can find something more fitting for you" Evelyn cooed, lifting your chin with a soft touch.

You blinked at her, puzzled. "...Me?"

She gives you a sweet smile, her hand gently tilting your chin up to meet her gaze. "Yes, you."

She steps closer, her voice smooth and velvety. "You're quite an adorable maid, aren't you. Running around helping with the festival. I bet you'd look stunning in the proper attire."

"... For what?" You ask, still confused, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

She hums softly, a playful glint in her eyes.

"My little assistant, hun." She replies dramatically, her hand fluttering as though she’s performing on stage. “I need someone to hold my things, make sure my dress stays perfect, and attend to any little details that might distract me from enjoying myself.”

Her tone is playful, but the way she looks at you makes it clear that there's no escaping this role she's crafted for you. "Of course, I’ll make sure you're treated well, fine clothes, special privileges for your... help today."

"How?" you ask warily, suspicion creeping into your voice. There's no way she knows the manor's rules for maids... does she?

"I have my ways." She replies, a sly smile playing on her lips.

You sigh, resigned, know there's no escaping it now. But you're still not entirely sure about this. It's all so new to you, and the rewards don’t exactly sound tempting enough to outweigh the uncertainty.

Evelyn's smile widens as she adds, "And no tomorrow’s chores."

“Deal.”

Knight - Richard Sterling

He chuckled as he noticed the expression on your face. "Ah, you seem a bit disappointed to see me."

"Go away." You say, turning your back on him.

His smirk grows as he takes a step closer, invading your space. "No need to be so rude."

"I'm busy. So, if you don’t mind, I’m really not interested in anything you have to say."

He leans in even closer, his face mere inches from yours, his smirk never faltering, clearly relishing the subtle irritation in your eyes.

"Careful." He murmurs, his voice low and teasing. "I could easily silence that sharp tongue of yours, you know? After all… a damsel in distress shouldn’t be so harsh on her knight."

"I am not a—" you start, but before you can finish, he cuts you off with a teasing glance.

He brings a hand to your waist, his touch surprisingly gentle as he steadies you. "Oh, you're not a damsel in distress, huh?"

He responds mockingly, his smirk still on his face. "Then what are you, darling? Just a pretty maid, lost in this manor, with no one to protect her, no one to take care of her?”

His words drip with mockery, and a sharp memory surfaces, the time you’d slipped out of your duties, avoiding the long, pointless task the manor had assigned you. It wasn’t like anyone knew, except for him. The weight of his knowing gaze lingers as his smirk deepens, a challenge in his eyes.

You narrow your eyes, suspicion creeping in. "What do you want?"

Leaning in, his gaze fixed on yours, full of mockery and challenge.

"What do I want, you ask?" His dry chuckle lingers in the air as his smirk widens, his voice lowering, dark and deliberate.

"You, darling. I want you… "

A cold shiver runs down your spine as his words hang in the air. His dark, dangerous eyes lock onto yours with a predatory intensity, as if they’re searching for something deep within you. You swallow hard, the unease settling in your chest as his gaze holds you captive.

"... to accompany me tonight."

And suddenly, it's gone. The weight of his gaze lifts, and the tension in the air fades, leaving you breathless and confused.

"What?"

"Tonight, 8 o'clock. I would like to see the color white on you." His smirk returns, lips curling as he steps back, his voice smooth and teasing.

You stand there, feeling the weight of his words lingering in the air long after he's gone.

"...But I don't have any white—Ugh"

Maybe Vera will have some spare for you.

Opera singer - Sangria

She quietly observes, refrain from darkening the atmosphere for those who wish to celebrate.

The unease in her eyes betrays her calm exterior. It's been a while since she's sung, and she’s torn between feeling honored and anxious when being invited. The weight of the moment seems heavy on her shoulders even though it's just a small event.

"You look nervous”

Sangria glances down at the small frame of the manor maid, her gaze lingering for a moment.

Sangria's eyes soften slightly, a faint, almost imperceptible sigh escaping her lips. "It's been so long, I'm not sure I'm ready" She admits, her voice barely above a whisper. "Even though this stage is smaller than the one in my hometown"

Your face brightened slightly. "You've performed elsewhere before? I mean, of course you have. Your title is opera singer, after all."

You couldn't help but blush, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. "Sorry, I've never met an opera singer before. Hence, I've never watched opera."

Sangria raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Really?" she asked, her tone gentle. "Not even once?"

You shook your head, a bit sheepish. "Unfortunately, I always thought it was... too formal or something. Like, I wouldn't fit in."

She laughed softly, a warm, reassuring sound. "Opera may appear daunting at first glance, but once you immerse yourself in it, you'll find it far more intimate than most presume. It’s not about conforming; it’s about surrendering to the music, allowing the emotions to consume you."

Sangria caught herself rambling and cleared her throat. She give you a sheepish smile. "I tend to get a bit carried away when it comes to... this."

You chuckled, feeling a bit more at ease. "It’s okay. I mean, if I had a passion like that, I’d probably do the same."

She laughed, her eyes softening. "It’s not just a passion, it was my life. But I suppose everyone has their own thing that makes them feel alive, right?"

You smile softly, taking in her words. The silence stretches for a few moments, both of you lost in the quiet. Then, her name is called. Just before leaving, she turns back to you.

She glances over her shoulder with a playful smile, her eyes locking with yours. "Say, I would love a glass of champagne after my show."

You bow slightly. "Right away, ma’am."

Her smile deepens, and with a final glance, she turns toward the stage.

You hadn’t expected her to be so friendly. Maybe not all hunters are as intimidating as they seem. Some just need the right person to see their true side.

Night Watch - Ithaqua

The hunter is currently standing on the balcony of one of the manor's many luxurious rooms, his hand gently gripped around the railing that lines the balcony's edge. His gaze is fixed on the garden below, which is currently bathed in intense light. It hurts his eyes, not used to so much color.

He lets out a low sigh before glancing at the door that leads into the room behind him. He really didn't appreciate the amount of people that would be present in the manor this time.

Ithaqua’s eyes scan you, lingering on every detail of your figure. The intensity of his gaze sharpens with each passing second. Then, a smirk curls on his lips as realization hits.

"Well, if it isn’t the little mouse" He says with a teasing edge.

You sigh, already knowing what’s coming. "Can you stop calling me that?"

"Why would I?" He replies with a shrug, his tone playful yet laced with something darker.

You roll your eyes, frustration bubbling up. "It’s childish. I’m not some helpless thing for you to toy with."

Ithaqua’s grin spreads wider, his voice dropping to a low, teasing tone.

"Always scurrying around, cleaning the corners of the manor."

"… Me?" You reply, raising an eyebrow, but his unwavering gaze locks onto you.

"Yes" He answers, the word dripping with amusement.

"Sneaking around at night"

"… It’s my duty to check the hallways" You say, a hint of defensiveness creeping in.

"Small" He muses, his lips curling at the corners. His voice is almost a purr.

"Hey" You snap, stepping back slightly, irritated.

His voice drops to a whisper, too soft, too intimate, as though he’s speaking directly into your ear. "A mouse."

You groan in frustration, crossing your arms tightly. No matter what you say, he just won’t stop. You sigh, knowing he won’t relent. It’s almost like he enjoys getting under your skin. His smirk only grows, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you.

You tap your shoes impatiently, not even bothering to look at him. His gaze still burns into you, unwavering and unrelenting.

After a long silence, he picks up a chocolate, studying it for a moment before his smirk returns. With a casual motion, he extends the piece toward you.

"Here" he says, the teasing still present in his voice. "A treat for my little mouse."

"... Mouse doesn't eat chocolate" You mutter, your tone pointed.

Ithaqua’s smirk only deepens, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "So you admit you're one?"

"..."

":)"

✦.───────── ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ───────── .✦

Source: idea from “"IDV x The Chara cafe collaboration" (None of the pictures are mine)

[bimboothefool]

Hi!! Can I request a yandere Emil and Ada x gn reader? Maybe how they met the reader, how will treat them if they ever abduct them, up to you!

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐏𝐬𝐲𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐇𝐂’𝐬

Oh Yes you may and I had to rewatch their introduction trailer just to get a good feel of their personalities. Hopefully you’ll enjoy these headcanons Anon! ^7^ 🩷 Happy Halloween to you all, hopefully this halloween was great and you got a bunch of treats or atleast had fun!!🎃🎉

Warning this story isn't suitable for an audience of 17 & younger.

This story contains the following subject matters: Drugging, Gaslighting, Possessive & Manipulative Behavior, Kidnapping, Brainwashing and Forced Marriage (???) If you click read more you've consented to reading this story.

- There’s two possibilities they’ll meet you, You’re either Ada’s coworker/psychology nurse or are a patient like Emil.

- If you’re Ada’s coworker, she’ll often observe how you behave, what your quirks are and overall take in as much info about you as possible.

- Ada falls in love with seeing how devoted you are to making sure the patients are comfortable and safe. Every time to obediently follow her orders or trial behind her, her heart skips a beat.

- She also takes into account how your relationship is with Emil, sometimes leaving him in your care as she quickly “attends” to other patients.

- Emil would at first be weary of you, but soon warms up to you. He’ll cling to you often wanting to lay his head on your shoulder or lap.

- Emil grips onto your hand, trailing behind you like a lost puppy. He craves your attention and affection.

- Emil falls in love with how gentle and kind you are to him. He’s been so deprived of it, finally getting it is like finding cold, crisp oasis in a cruel, hot desert.

- Ada seeing how well you take care of Emil, involves you in their escape plan. Basically feeding you half truths and getting you coaxed into this plan.

- If you don’t agree and stand your ground, she drugs you and takes you with her. Emil clings to your unconscious form immediately, hugging you close. Wanting your warmth as Ada drives.

- Now onto if you’re a patient like Emil, he’s pretty antisocial during his time at the asylum. Barely talking to anyone else, you showed him a sliver of kindness, he’s practically attached at the hip with you.

- Often seeking you out and asking where you are. Wherever you go, he follows right after you.

- Ada seeing this change in behavior does a bit of bargains with the higher ups and is soon assigned as your psychologist.

- She’s very intrigued on how you operate as well. Learning every intimate detail about you.

- Ada proposes the idea of taking you out of this place, proposing you’re better off with her than in here.

- She’ll again just kidnaps and drugs you if you say no.

- Now onto how they both treat you after you’re abducted for both scenarios.

- If you resisted, when you wake up, you’re tied up. Ada knows how clever you are and isn’t taking any chances. She knows that using a different method on you into making you love both her and Emil is her top priority along with helping Emil.

- “Don’t worry my love, soon you’ll see things our way. For now rest up.” Ada looks down at your restrained form.

- When the hypnosis results start to stagnate, she knows they’ve yielded incredible results. ‘ Maybe, just maybe they’ll work on you. ‘

- So now you’re apart of her tests, your backbone is forcibly ripped from you. Your autonomy is taken from you piece by piece.

- Emil helps out by constantly being beside you, seeking you out frequently and offering you comfort and security. Feeding you the idea that he nor Ada would never hurt you. They want you to be as free and happy as they are.

- After many tests, you finally crack and often needing to be close to Ada or Emil. If both they’re both around, the merrier your time is spent with them. You crave their attention at first. But slowly you needed their love.

- Ada and Emil’s love becomes your addiction, their kisses make your knees buckle, their embrace keeps you grounded and it all felt so right.

- The once loud voice screaming for you to run and hide, starts to get quieter and quieter. You don’t want to run from your beloveds. They’re your lovers, why would you run from them.

- Ada and Emil have shown you what true love is. They would never hurt you. Ada and Emil love you and you love them.

- If you went along and complied, Ada uses this to her advantage. Using Emil as a way to tempt you to not defy her. Emil isn’t innocent, he plays along and amplifies how he needs you too. Having without you, means he’s incomplete.

- With time it does its twisted job, you fall in love with Emil and soon Ada. You look forward to their kisses, the nights where you cuddle eachother.

- You all practically are each other’s entire world, you know even death won’t make neither of you part.

- This is true love, the pinnacle of pure, unconditional and unadulterated love.

- In both scenarios, when you all receive an invite. When both Ada and Emil, propose to you. Your heart is beating with sick joy. First a getaway from this life you’ve outgrown and now being engaged to the two people you clutch onto dearly.

- “Paradise… Here we come.” You smile with broken delight. You now have rings on both of your ring finger. This is the start of a new chapter, with your new wife and husband.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐧𝐝

𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐨𝐧 | 𝐭𝐢𝐩 𝐦𝐞 | 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 | 𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐬

[eunxhan]

Ꮺ Anon Requested ⨾ Hiya! I just wanted to know which killers in IDV you head cannon as just like contrasting yanderes? (Basically when you behave they pepper you in kisses gifts until you disobey them and then.. well, you imagine 😞😞) Have a good day/night!

Ꮺ Eun Replies ⨾ Oh I love this idea, I had to read each and every Hunters Wikipedia.. And I can't seem to find more explanations about 'contrasting yandere'. Some characters I don't really know quite alot about and I'm sorry if these are rushed and little, I ran out of ideas for most. I just noticed that all of the yanderes I've picked have one thing in common.. Is they love music:'))..

•◦✦────•◦ᘡᘞ •◦────✦◦•◦•

Ꮺ Disclaimer — CAN BE SEEN AS PLATONIC/ROMANTIC.

Reader ⨾ NON SPECIFIED. GN!RDR. YOU/YOURS.

Words used ⨾ 1,583 words 8,824 characters

Characters ⨾ YAN! ANN, JACK, JOSEPH, ANTONIO, MICHIKO, XIE BI'AN & FAN WUJIU.

Links ⨾ My Navigation and Mandates

•◦✦────•◦ᘡᘞ •◦────✦◦•◦•

Ꮺ ANN ( DISCIPLE ) ⨾

She's a dangerous, sympathetic and terrifying at the same time. She's a faithful and devoted follower of a Hunter, whom she regards as her God and savior. Though, she's a dangerous and sadistic individual who relishes in punishing and torturing those who defy her God. Now she expects you to do the same, she wants you to be disciplined uand do nothing but to listen to her. It's on her name.

She worships her darling by being overly devoted, possessive and loyal. She will do anything to make her darling happy, including stalking and isolating you from other people. She will also be very attentive to your needs and wants, and will always try to anticipate your wishes.

Now if you obey her? Oh she'll reward you with her love, affection, and protection as usual. She will do everything in her power to make sure her darling is happy and content, and will go to great lengths to please you. This might include cooking their favorite meals, planning activities they enjoy, or even sacrificing her own needs and wants. That's how she express her love to you.

But on the other hand, if you ever disobeys or betrays her, she will not hesitate to use her violent and vengeful nature. She will stop at nothing to make sure her darling is hers and hers only, even if it means using force and intimidation to keep you under her control.

Now after her horrible punishment as trapping you inside a small dark room with nothing. Expect for her cat to be following you whenever you go, The cat is a way for her to monitor and control your behavior, as the cat can act as a spy and snitch on you whenever you behave in a way that is not approved by Ann. The cat is a good a tool to punish you if they disobey or betray her. Now say goodbye to your privacy...

•◦✦────•◦ᘡᘞ •◦────✦◦•◦•

Ꮺ JACK ( RIPPER ) ⨾

Like I said on my last headcanons about him.. He's not nice even in the beginning. He's a violent and unhinged type of yandere who takes great pleasure in causing pain and suffering to others. His sadistic nature, he's obsessed with his darling and will do anything to make you happy.

Jack's love to his darling is such that he'd go to great lengths to keep you close and under his control. He'd stalk, isolate and even kill anyone who stands in his way. His darling is his everything, his reason for existing, and he'd do anything to protect you.

He'll showers you with love and affection, just like the last yandere. He will do anything to make you happy and fulfilled, oh he's so proud of his darling! He'll be more attentive to your needs, spoil you with gifts and attention, and make sure you feel safe and protected in his presence. Now you understand why he's doing all of this for you!

He's not surprised if you disobey him, Jack shows no remorse and use violence and intimidation to keep you in line. To let you know who's the one being in charge here, don't even think about trying to escape from his presence again. You'll never see the outside world again if you did.

•◦✦────•◦ᘡᘞ •◦────✦◦•◦•

Ꮺ ANTONIO ( VIOLINIST ) ⨾

Please, I have a soft spot for this man. He's a musician who's deeply in love with his darling, but who's also capable of resorting to extreme measures to protect and possess his beloved. I hc him as a yandere who likes a darling that appreciate on what he do..

There's a gentleness and sensitivity to him, which makes him complicated. Unlike other Yanderes, who are often motivated by fear or hatred, he seems driven more by love, and is capable of displaying affection, tenderness, and even compassion towards his darling. He actually loves it more when you're comfortable with him.

So when you obey him, he showers you with love, and will do anything in his power to keep it that way. Playing his violin for you (not in a hurtful way—), singing to you, and even composing new pieces to express his love.

If your obedience was just an act in order to keep him blind just for you to escape or seems to be distancing, he can become overbearing and controlling. He'll get frustrated on why you had to do that for, he have given you all, was he not enough? He'll be more strict and give you the cold shoulder.

And if you still continue? He does not hesitate to use his terrifying melody on you. He'll continue to play as your ears are bleeding, throwing up, crying hysterically, having the biggest migraines known to man until you apologize to him and promised to not do it again. Don't worry though, he'll treat you and shower you with affection as if nothing had happened.

•◦✦────•◦ᘡᘞ •◦────✦◦•◦•

Ꮺ JOSEPH ( PHOTOGRAPHER ) ⨾

He is a skilled and talented photographer who is always ready to capture your perfect moment, though he is also a master of deception and manipulation, using his charm to lure unsuspecting victims into his web. He is obsessed with you, your charm and he will go to extreme lengths to keep you under him, going to an extent to isolate you from anyone.

It's not common for you to obey him, so when the time you suddenly obey him or satisfy his every desire.. He was skeptical, as if it was a trap.. Or a sign that you're giving up and giving yourself to him. Though he rewards you by giving his time and attention.. If you're patient enough and continue to be obedient, he'll be giving whatever you ask.

but when you go against him or betray his trust, he can become cold, cruel, violent. Not hesitating to use his powers to get rid of any obstacle that stands between him and his darling.

He'll be using your insecurities and your past against you as he punishes you by geing trapped in a picture, he'll use manipulation, guilt-tripping, and even stalking, to keep you under his control. To physical or emotional abuse as punishment.

We both know what he's gonna do to you in there. You'll come out with a couple bruises.. And will he help you? No, he's still disappointed of you trying to escape from his grasp.

•◦✦────•◦ᘡᘞ •◦────✦◦•◦•

Ꮺ MICHIKO ( GEISHA ) ⨾

I actually see her as some mother loving yandere, with so many people that have mistreated her. You manage to catch her in the eyes, usually she hates it but something to you made her want to take care of you, treat you like you need help and guidance from someone bigger.

Deep sense of love and loyalty towards you, whose behavior are often driven by her desire to keep her darling safe. She's not driven by hatred, but by a deep-seated fear of being alone and of losing the person she loves.

It'll take long for her to notice your sudden obedience towards her but once she got to it, she's so happy that you're listening to her! she showers you with more affection, and keep you obedient. Spoiling her beloved with expensive gifts, taking you out on lavish adventures, and using her charm and beauty to make you love her.

If you ever disobey her, she let's it slide twice or thrice.. But if it keeps going and using her kindness to your advantage. She'll be angry, she can't manage to hurt you as it hurts her more but she had no choice.. She's manipulative.

She's more on scolding you with her words, the same as Joseph, she'll use every single flaw that you had against you until you fall back. It hurts more than it hurts you, yknow?

•◦✦────•◦ᘡᘞ •◦────✦◦•◦•

Ꮺ XIE BI'AN & FAN WUJIU ⨾ ( a bit ooc? )

Xie Bi'an is a quiet and reserved individual, who's deeply in love with his darling, and will do anything to keep you safe. He's the type to use manipulation, guilt-tripping, and stalking to keep you on his grasp. He's also capable of resorting to physical or emotional abuse as punishment just like any other yanderes.

Fan Wujiu, on the other hand, is a fun-loving and playful individual. He's the type to use charm, wit, and humor to distract you from doing something ridiculous. He's also capable of using manipulation and gaslight to ensure that his darling remains loyal to him.

Once darling get so obedient, both of them might view the sudden obedience of you as a sign that they are finally getting through to you, and might feel a sense of satisfaction and relief as you're finally accepting them as a part of your life. Fan Wujiu would be more touchy while Xie Bi'an continue to whisper sweet nothings against your ear.

They have all the patience in the world no matter how many times that you disobey them, they understand that it's suffocating to have them by your side most of the time so they give you space..as long as you're still in their sight.

But once you try to escape or do much worse.. They see it as disloyalty, you have no choice but to accept them being next to you at all cost. Taking turns to keep an eye on you, keeping you under their umbrella.

•◦✦────•◦ᘡᘞ •◦────✦◦•◦•

Ꮺ ⨾ I DO NOT CONSENT TO MY WORK BEING COPIED OR TRANSLATED

[bl4nk-card]

hey! your aesop request was amazing, i hope it's okay if i request again :)

may i ask for frederick falling for a vocalist s/o, who is confident onstage but shy when she's in front of others?

" First Step.

🎹🎤 ~ > 𝔉𝔯𝔢𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔠𝔨 𝔎𝔯𝔢𝔦𝔟𝔲𝔯𝔤 & f! [vocalist] reader (you ♡)

a/n: hiii hii hii! hope this was good! i wrote about their first time meeting <3

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ 𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔪𝔭𝔱 :

𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐯𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭, (𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞), 𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲. 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲, 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐲; 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐟𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝. 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 … 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞.

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 : 𝔱𝔴 / 𝔠𝔴 :

𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞

.˚₊‧༉︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

the journey in music demands for nothing less than perfection and absolution. there has never been enough time to waste for empty friendships and distractions; one's heart must be dedicated if they wish to be the best among all.

this is what he thought.

it had always been this way for frederick, his mind set solid on pursuing music and dedicating his time to the art, never ceasing his chase even during the most scarring situations in his undeniably miserable life.

to him, it was perfection or nothing.

hence why he attended the concert of the city's new vocalist.

and god, was it ... worth it. every moment of the concert; her vocals, her voice, her. frederick, for the first time in god knows how long, felt pulled to the opportunity of approaching the vocalist. he had his attention focused on her figure as she sang, finding it in himself reluctantly wanting to talk to her.

the utter control she held in her vibratos was a sight he would never forget. how she could do it so effortlessly was a wonder he could never come to answer.

(name), a truly magnificent form of art. never has frederick admired anything so profoundly, believing in his own capabilities of music and being impressed only by the fewest individuals. he has long lost the admiration he beheld once for people, his curiosity overshadowed by the shameful mediocrity everyone unfortunately had.

.˚₊‧༉︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚. AFTER THE PERFORMANCE

(name) was exhausted. relieved that the show was over, she felt at peace knowing that she no longer had to exert such energy when she finally makes it to her room---

" pardon me, " a rather soothing voice called. and came into her view was a man in red, a cane behind his back. " i do wish i am not ... intruding or interrupting you. i couldn't help but personally give you my appreciation of your ... delightful talent in singing. "

(name) felt a sense of tension in her body, suddenly feeling the need to look away or hide elsewhere. this has happened quite a lot --- where admirers come close after a performance, but for an odd reason, it felt a little more intense with this individual in particular. his controlled tone, his clothes, his very demeanor --- it felt as if he was of the higher class. wealthy, that is certain.

" thank you, mr..? " she held on, voice a little softer.

" kreiburg, " the pianist continued, straightening his back just a little bit. however, he couldn't resist wandering his gaze down and away. it was a hard habit to break as he has, for so long, strayed away from friendly exchanges. " frederick kreiburg. "

(name) acknowledged the information with a nearly-silent hum before facing the direction she was initially headed towards.

" mr. kreiburg, it is lovely to have met you this evening. " (name) nodded, " however, i must retire to my room--- "

" hold on, " the pianist held her there, almost taking a step forward. as he further analyzed her face, that tired yet intrigued expression, he made out the shy and meek expression that she held yet tried to push away. " would.. would it be a burden for two musicians to perhaps, merge their work? "

(name) is taken aback by the request, prolonging the silence by a few seconds. " sorry? "

" i am a musician myself, " frederick murmured, hesitating for a moment. he did not know if he was being too straightforward. too intrusive. " a pianist. and ... i do see a certain potential in a performance hosted by you and i. a duet, even. "

was he doing too much? what if he looked like a creep? she would certainly decline. what was he thinking? the city's favorite vocalist would certainly spread word about him, deeming him a sick wretch with ill intensions---

" i would love to, mr. kreiburg, " (name) breathed out at last. her eyes seemed brighter with joy, and yet they flickered away similarly to his own in response to shyness. " i would be delighted! "

questions swarmed the pianist's head. was she not freaked out by him? did she not see him some dirty, eerie fan who'd follow her everywhere?

the vocalist suddenly reached for a nearby attendance sheet, ripping off a tiny piece and writing on the empty space with the quill beside it. she then, so quickly, held frederick's gloved hand and almost pushed the folded paper too hard (out of panic) into his grasp before excusing herself for the night, shying away from the man.

frederick could barely catch himself as he, almost instinctively, wanted so terribly to reach out. for her to stay.

dazed by disbelief, both from having just directly spoken to his admired vocalist and having a note with her own writing in his hands, frederick opened the note with trembling fingers. and there, he read its contents.

may 21st, [year] a duet prompted by (name), the city's vocalist, and another musician, whose names are signed below. signed: [SIGNATURE] signed: (name) (duet partner/s) - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

mr. kreiburg, 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦; 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘥𝘶𝘦𝘵. 𝘪𝘧 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘦! 𝘪 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵. 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘸𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪. (name)

(name)'s signature was there, so beautifully scripted by her own hand. perhaps it was worth the panic when he approached.

with the slightest hesitance, frederick's eyes fluttered ever so slightly before bringing the page closer up to his face. he then neared the paper to his lips and whispered against the page,

" a duet, it shall be. "

... one of the concert attendees almost had their mouth agape at his action to which the pianist responded with a repressed glare, coughing quietly to seem as if he was just relieving himself from some health problem and definitely not trying to calm himself down from getting a heart attack.

the sight of the attendee running off had frederick rolling his eyes. if there was anything a potential eavesdropper would see, it would be his 'rudeness', not the burning of his cheeks from embarrassment.

✧༺♥༻ END

[sunflower1experiment]

Can you do idv characters react reader wearing an inappropriate costume? (the revealing and sexy kind)

I got this idea when I saw one of your post about reader having a simp attack when they or she saw Wu Chang costume

I added my own twist to it.

“Woah…” Luchino holds his bride by the hand, you as the bride blush and let him spin you around. “Such a beauty! Our world of relaxation and steam shall be flowing, brimming, glorious.”

You were wearing a comfortable robe like Margaretha with a touch of white and sandals, at some point you and her would be relaxing in the sauna hot tub with pure bliss. Luchino was holding up a glass of wine, then he chuckles when Kevin bows his hat respectfully. “A good fellow you are. Care to join my bride?”

You wave for them to join, noting a couple others following. Ada, Emil, Grace, Michiko, Patrica and even the wheel brothers. They all enjoy the sauna and hot beautiful steam, the nymphs gathering around to exfoliate themselves in the water, meanwhile you rest along Luchino’s chest.

A nice way to relax and pertain a comfortable environment, soon you would enjoy a meal with the girls. Warning everyone to avoid indulging on account to not wanting them to pass out, else it’d be unhealthy. Luchino advises otherwise depending on how others wished to spend their time in this beautiful place of bliss. Even so, the two of you manage to pertain such a balance of power amongst the survivors and hunters.

Phillipe bows respectfully with his sister, holding your hand to give it a gentle kiss. “Thank you.” He mutters softly, and you nod allowing the allure to flow between everyone.

Margaretha sighs while she lays on her bed comfortably, “This is the life of luxury I seek.”

“Indeed, my husband blesses us with such joy, and bliss…ah, I’ll cherish this moment forevermore..”

Grace traces along Luchino’s hand, adoringly with her soft eyes. Michiko dances with the wheel brothers and Patrica, the two sway and dip before they bow down. Ada and Emil enjoy the warmth while they lay together, Kevin later on holds Patrica to enjoy her company.

It was so easy to forget how this essences was merely what they all desired, an escape from their pasts, all troubled and unforgiving….

So they indulged and enjoyed this the best they could.

[fishermanshook]

"You look, oddly familiar." (surviors! x gn!reader)

INTRO

A prompt where you knew said Survivor before they came to the manor. Your reason for coming here? Probably because of them.

꒰wc꒱ 1.0k words (grammar and spelling warning, mentions of abuse in Female Dancer’s part.)

The Enchantress

You and the Enchantress were together a lot as kids, or has your growing age started to wipe your memory clean? Do you struggle to remember such personal moments the two of you shared? Such a shame, as it's been over 5 years and you've yet to trace her location down. Has she disappeared from the world entirely? Seems like it, doesn't it?

Oh. Wait. There's a memory. An old one for sure, but a memory is still a memory. You and Patricia had spent what seemed to be every waking second together. So much so that Patricia's "mother" had started to see you as her own. Another child to take under her wing, and she gladly would. You understand that, right? Had she not taught you enough? The two of you had made a habit of strolling through New Orleans together, knowing almost every face that inhabited every corner of the city. You'd be down there for any number of reasons. To pick something up, to look for new ingredients, or just to look around the place you know by the back of your hand.

If the two of you had spent so much time with each other, then why didn't she tell you where the hell she went? She never left a note, a letter, or even a single clue as to where she ran off. So yes, when you received a letter stating to know her whereabouts you followed. Was it dumb? Oh for sure. But you would take every chance you could get to find her. You didn't even get to go up to her when you spotted her, she already knew.

"I wish you hadn't come," The Enchantress says with her back turned to yours. "but I can't help but be happy that you did." She chimed, turning around with a smile and a strange-looking artifact in her hand.

The Painter

You were there when it all started. You know, his painting thing. At first, he was a mess, paint slobbered all over his hands and face like a child. But I guess he was a child when he first picked up the paintbrush. Who would’ve known he would never put it down?

As Edgar’s talent increased, he started painting other things. Boats in the river, flowers growing outside, people strolling around the park where the two of you frequented. His drawings decorated his room and cluttered his bedroom floor.

For your 12th birthday, little Edgar (in all honesty) had forgotten about your birthday. The thought of it struck his mind at 1 in the morning as he quickly grabbed for his paints before whisking out a canvas. Throwing himself into his work, he produced his first of many portraits of you. From that point forward, it was a tradition for him to paint you for each birthday. No matter how many fights you had over his short temper or accidental paint spills imported from the other side of the country, you still received a packaged painting. Wrapped in fine silk with a “happy birthday” note tucked in between the folds. For you, he spared little to no expense. That is, until he got older.

It has been over two years since you've seen the man and you haven’t received a single portrait since. Arriving at the manor, you find him in the garden alone, painting a familiar portrait.

“It’s nice that you remember my face, as I’m starting to forget yours.” Your voice nearly makes him drop his paintbrush, as he whips around to meet you. You in all your stunning beauty, god, how you’ve grown from the small child he once knew.

Female Dancer

It is either that you met Nata-Margaretha in Lakeside Village or during your shared time spent in the Hullabaloo circus. Both experiences that you will not forget, but time makes things foggy. It blurs memories that were important to your life that you can no longer recall. But for the sake of going to bed without a piercing migraine tonight, your brain tells you it was during the circus.

Ah, now you're starting to remember things. As memories (some unwanted) come flooding back to you about the circus. A curious place that produced good and bad thoughts. Your mind flashes back to before the accident when time was spent helping Margie (a nickname used widely throughout the circus by many of its performers) tame animals and perform new jaw-dropping tricks to stun the audience. 

You remember when your ignorance of what was happening behind closed curtains came crashing down. When Margaretha came crying to you, sobbing that she needed to tell you something. She then began to show you bruises and cuts that littered her body, all deliberately hidden in places that couldn't be noticed unless further expected. To keep it short, you were shocked that "he" could do something this horrible, to decorate her upper body in purple and red marks. It was even more shocking that if anyone noticed, "he" would just brush it off and say that she got hurt while practicing. 

At that time, you knew you had to get her and yourself out of there. A lack of knowledge has landed your friend with bruises, cuts, and unwanted love from someone she thought she cared for.

You haven't seen Margaretha since the fire. Actually, you haven't seen anyone since the fire. Not Mike, not Murro, not even Violetta. But following breadcrumbs as to where they all went earned you a one-way ticket to the Oletus Manor, maybe your questions will be answered there.

"Margie?" You almost choke on your words. Seeing her for the first time in so long feels nostalgic. (how old are you again?) She can't even respond, she can’t even believe it's you. All you'll get from her is a death-griping hug and a stained shirt accompanied by her ever-flowing tears.

note: I love you Patricia (writers block is kicking my a rn)

(2024)©️fishermanshook — do not steal, translate, plagiarize, or repost my work on any other platform

[ch6douin]

Hello I am curious what do you think Luca would do if he could somehow make the survivors be able to listen Reader's voice. Imagine the reaction of reader singing songs from their world.

Survivors and hunters already listen to the reader's voice. It's just distant and faint. Now, if Luca can somehow find an opening to solve this problem, they would be delighted! I mean, sometimes your voice gets too loud and that doesn't help them focus, but at least if you slip out any important information they will hear it.

Depending on what tunes you hum and sing, most of them would relax with this private performance and even forget they are in a match, others would be slightly annoyed and then learn to ignore. Some would also try to find out what music are you listening to. Just don't scream at the top of your lungs, please.

A smile blooms on her face, Margaretha Zelle is once again having her ears graced by this song she has yet to discover its origins. As a lady with such a harsh past, she wouldn't easily surrender to the invisible shackles of your existence. Yet as your voice gets louder and clearer, so does her urge to throw this match. The punishment won't be that bad, would it? She is sure that you will brush it off if she stops moving.

[turbulentscrawl]

Margaretha Zelle General HCs

I had to format and post this via my phone, so apologies if it ends up not looking as clean as usual!

-She’s a real Daisy Buchanan sort. That is, she's in this performance-based mental place where she covers up her unmet emotional needs by building her persona on her unmet financial desires. Obtaining wealth and glamor is her primary focus, and she’s willing to take any number of avenues to get to it, be it abandoning her only family and eloping, or traveling to a mysterious manor that promises nothing but some vague, grand prize. On some level, she is aware of her self-deception, but she pushes that acknowledgement down too.

-She does not admit to much of the pain or neglect in her life, regardless of whether she was receiving or dealing it. (And there has been plenty of both.) Her aunt and uncle would make do without her. Sergei hurting her was a phase, it would pass, they would make it big. Even now, the manor will someday provide wealth and escape. Someday, one day…. She survives on a bit of delusion, on thick, choking, toxic optimism, and the shine of gold in her eye.

-Underneath all the superficialness, Margaretha genuinely desires to be loved. Sergei loved her (or so she believed) and it doesn’t seem to have mattered to her whether she loved him back. He was mostly another opportunity for her to escape her old life, to try and find freedom from a poor fishmonger’s life. She even says in her undelivered letter home that she doesn’t trust him. Whether that’s because some part of her suspected what he really was, or because she planned not to stick around long enough for trust to matter, I can’t say. But him loving her was a nice bonus regardless.

-She might have some actual feelings for Joker, but she hasn’t let herself develop any real emotional attachment to him. What he’s capable of offering her is gentle comfort, a helping hand, but he can’t provide the high-life she desires, can’t help bury her feelings under jewelry and gold, so she doesn’t allow him be an option. But his feelings for her do continue to be useful and she’s not entirely ashamed to use that.

-If Margaretha ever reached the place of wealth and comfort she desires, I think she would look back and feel a sense of regret for everything that it took to get there. She’d never admit it aloud, never apologize to anyone, but she would spend the rest of her life quietly choking down regrets and wondering about her own morality, her own worth as a person.

-She’s the kind of person to give “little things” away, but hoard the big to herself. A gentle touch, a kind word, and kiss on the cheek, these things are easy and harmless to give. They make people feel better without detracting from her own goals. Physical Affection and Acts of Service are therefore her preferred love languages to give. To receive, she of course likes Gifts, and is rather fond of Acts of Service as well. Physical affection is alright, but because she gives it easily, she tends to think other people do as well and doesn’t place as much worth in it. Someone who makes her feel safe gets some extra points in that category, though.

-Partially due to the above, she’s very good with children. She’s never been sure if she wants her own, but she finds them cute and relatively easy to deal with. It helps that children rarely have any malice in their hearts, too, so she can forego a lot of her subconscious fears.

-She’s a fast learner, at least in regards to physical skills. She’s had to pick up a lot of new talents and adjust to things quickly since leaving home, I order to pull her own weight in the various communities she joins, and that quick-learning mindset has stuck with her. She’s fairly athletic as well, though she’s not really doing any heavy lifting.

-Due to Sergei having been a belligerent drunk, she’s a bit nervous around the combination of men and alcohol. She’s got no reservations about sharing a nice glass of wine with the other ladies in the manor, though!

[aesopcatt]

Margie/Female Dancer Headcanons

(A/N)

I love Margie and I don't see many people write for her

-Margie would love her partner to go to her performances. She wants them to be her number one fan.

-Margie would love to teach them how to dance even if their not very good at it she doesn't care.

-She would love it if her partner could spoil her with nice things like clothes and jewelry, but understands if they can't.

-She doesn't want her lover drinking much if ever due to her past trauma.

-She loves baking and loves to do it with her partner.

-Margie loves physical touch and words of affirmation.

-She loves receiving words of affirmation, physical touch, and gift giving.

-Margie loves to go out for dates but also loves smaller things like picnics.

-She loves showing off her lover. She loves them so much and wants to let the whole world know.

[finnzhal]

All of my works about IDENTITY V are all in here !

Rules are in MASTERLINKS ! for requesting

The ones with no reader's gender specified are gender neutral

IMPORTANT : I'm still not so familiar with the characters yet

▭ׂ▬ׅ▭ׂ▬ׅ▭ׂ▬ׅ▭ׂ▬ׅ▭ׂ▬ׅ▭ׂ▬ׅ▭ׂ▬ׅ▭ׂ▬ׅ▭ׂ▬ׅ▭ׂ▬ׅ

— SURVIVORS (MALE) :

Lucky guy

Lawyer - Freddy Riley

Mercenary - Naib Subedar

Forward - William Ellis

Seer - Eli Clark

Embalmer - Aesop Cal

Prospector - Norton Campbell

Acrobat - Mike Morton

Postman - Victor Grantz

Grave Keeper - Andrew Kreiss

Prisoner- Luca Balsa

Painter - Edgar Valden

Batter - Ganji Gupta

Patient - Emil

Novelist - "Orpheus"

— SURVIVORS (FEMALE) :

Doctor - Emily Dyer

Gardener - Emma Woods

Coordinator - Martha Behamfil

Mechanic - Tracy Reznik

The Mind's Eye - Helena Adams

Priestess - Fiona Gilman

Perfumer - Vera Nair

Enchantress - Patricia Dorval

Entomologist - Melly Plinius

Toy Merchant - Anne Lester

  ▭ׂ▬ׅ▭ׂ▬ׅ▭ׂ▬ׅ▭ׂ▬ׅ▭ׂ▬ׅ▭ׂ▬ׅ▭ׂ▬ׅ▭ׂ▬ׅ▭ׂ▬ׅ▭ׂ▬ׅ

— HUNTERS (MALE) :

Jack the ripper

Xie Bi'an and Fan Wujiu - Wu Chang

Joseph Desaulniers - Photographer

Antonio - Violinist

Alva Lorenz - Hermit

Philippe - Wax artist

Ithaqua - Night watch

— HUNTERS (FEMALE) :

Michiko - Geisha

Yidhra - Dream Witch

Mary - Bloody Queen

Ann - Disciple

Galatea Claude - Sculptor

Grace - Naiad

Sangria - Opera Singer

▭ׂ▬ׅ▭ׂ▬ׅ▭ׂ▬ׅ▭ׂ▬ׅ▭ׂ▬ׅ▭ׂ▬ׅ▭ׂ▬ׅ▭ׂ▬ׅ▭ׂ▬ׅ▭ׂ▬ׅ

©Finnzhal. Do not steal other people's works.

[eliasmelody]

UNLOCK BY ACCIDENT

Naib x f!reader, maid reader Warning: threaten, misunderstood, grammar & spelling

INTRO:

Naib stepped into his room, the creaking floorboards amplifying the stillness of the manor. The air felt colder than usual, and the flickering candlelight cast long shadows on the walls. His eyes narrowed as he noticed the faint disturbances. The manor was quiet, but the silence now felt heavy. The unease settled in his chest, the tension rising. Who had dared to enter while he was gone?

The maid cleaned the room carefully as usual, her eyes falling on the lighter on the bedside table. Did the other maids forgot it?

✦.───────── ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ───────── .✦

It’s just a regular day in the manor, the silence broken only by the soft creaking of the old wooden floors beneath his feet.

He drags his exhausted body back to his room, each step a heavy reminder of the toll the day has taken on him. The matches, once manageable, have now become unbearable. They’re not a choice, but a force that binds him to this relentless cycle. Every moment feels like a struggle, the pressure mounting as they are pushed to play, whether they want to or not. He longs for an escape, but in this place, there is no such thing, just the cruel repetition of forced competition.

Naib groans in exhaustion as he finally reaches his room, collapsing on the bed and letting out a long sigh. He looks and feels completely worn out. As he lies there, trying to calm his racing thoughts, something feels off. His eyes, half-closed, flicker open again, scanning the room.

The quiet is unsettling. His gaze shifts around, taking in the surroundings. The room that had once been his sanctuary now feels unfamiliar, as though it has been disturbed.

His sharp mercenary instincts kick in, even in his wearied state. The room looks the same at first glance, everything in its place, but then he notices it. The dust, usually settled in every corner and crevice, is missing in several spots, on the desk, the windowsill, the bookshelf. Some areas are unnaturally clean, as though someone had carefully wiped away the grime, leaving behind the unmistakable sign of intrusion..

His chest tightens. He hadn’t been gone long, and he’s certain it was there when he left. Someone had been in here. The unsettling thought lingers as he stands, carefully checking every corner of the room.

His eyes narrow, and a sense of unease washes over him as he checks the small table beside his bed. His lighter, always kept within arm’s reach, is gone. It’s a small thing, but it’s enough to send a chill through him.

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

A few days had passed since Naib first noticed the unsettling changes in his room. Since then, he had kept a constant vigil, his senses on high alert, watching for any further signs of intrusion.

The missing lighter was the smallest of clues, but it had been enough to make him wary. Every time he entered his room, his eyes immediately scanned for anything out of place.

Naib was no stranger to enemies who could slip in unnoticed, he had fought many battles in the shadows, but this was different. At first, he had ruled out the obvious: no broken windows, no forced locks. Whoever this was, they were getting in without a trace.

The possibility that it could be one of the staff began to creep into his mind. It was a thought that unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

The staff, always so quiet, so invisible, had never truly registered in his mind before. They were as much a part of the manor as the walls and the furniture, blending into the background, seemingly lifeless. Maids, butlers, cooks, and cleaners, or whatever, were human, but their emotionless demeanor had always set them apart.

He had once threatened a maid with a knife, and though she had shown fear, she had been trained to suppress it. The owner of the manor did not tolerate harm to the staff; those who lashed out were punished severely, often driven to madness. Naib had seen the consequences firsthand and knew better than to provoke them.

Yet, the missing lighter and the disturbed dust suggested someone had been in his room.

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

One day, as Naib walked through the manor, he spotted a maid holding his lighter. His heart skipped a beat. He recognized it immediately, the worn edges, the faint engravings. It was his.

The maid noticed his gaze and held it, her face betraying no emotion. Naib's mind raced. Had she taken it? Or had someone else planted it on her? He couldn't be sure.

He approached her, his voice low. - "Where did you find that?"

The maid met his eyes, her expression unreadable. - “... Find what sir?”

His voice is steely and hard, eyes locking with hers as he speaks. - "Don't play coy. You know what I'm talking about. My lighter. Where'd you get it?”

The maid blinked, clearly confused, and glanced at the lighter. - "...This belongs to the manor."

Naib’s eyes narrowed as she studied the lighter, then met his gaze with a challenging tone. -"That’s a load of crap. It’s a unique lighter, full of engravings and carvings. I've had it for years."

He stepped in closer, his presence looming over her.- "Don’t play innocent with me.”

The mercenary had the kind of presence that could turn dangerous in an instant if he chose to. His eyes, cold and devoid of emotion, seemed almost dead as he fixed his gaze on the maid.

So, she’s the one who took it? The one who dared to invade his space? The one who had driven him to the brink, making him lose his mind for days? The realization hit him like a jolt of electricity, and a dangerous tension settled over him as he watched her. Every instinct in him screamed that this was no accident.

The maid glanced at the lighter, then at him, her eyes widening as if a memory suddenly struck her. She looked nervous.

"I-I can explain," - The maid stammered quickly, her voice shaky.

Naib's eyes narrowed, his expression growing darker, the air around him heavy with menace.

"Go on. Explain." - He folded his arms, his gaze locked on the lighter in her hand, his stillness almost suffocating.

"There must be a mistake. I-I thought this was one of the manor's lighters because of the color, so I took it-”

Her words faltered as she saw the darkness creeping into his eyes, the danger in his stare making her stop mid-sentence, a chill running down her spine.

The mercenary threatened her with his posture, every muscle tense. His eyes were cold and empty, fixed on her with a chilling intensity that made her heart race. He didn't need to say a word, his presence alone was enough to make her feel cornered.

Naib let out a scoff, his eyes narrowing as he rolled them in disbelief. He took a slow, deliberate step closer. The air around them seemed to grow colder, heavier, as if the shadows themselves were drawing closer in response to his silent threat.

"That's bullshit, and you know it."- He said, his voice a low, guttural growl that sent a shiver down her spine.

"I keep my lighter in the same spot every day. In my room. You're telling me you just happened to think it was one of the manor's lighters, and took it?”

The maid gulped. "I-I swear- I didn't know it was a guest room. Usually the manor key can't unlock it if there's someone occupy-”

Naib's expression darkens her words. So she was snooping around his room? Who knows what she could've taken besides his lighter.

"Stop lying to my face. I've been in this damn manor long enough to know how the keys work. You've been in my room.”

"I-It's the truth. Sir, if you just let me-”

BAM

Naib slammed his hand forcefully against the wall, the sound echoing through the hallway. The impact was so sudden that it cut off the maid's speech mid-sentence, leaving her startled and wide-eyed. His face twisted with intensity, eyes narrowing as he glared at her.

“You’d better be honest with me.” - He growled, his voice low and dangerous, every word dripping with a sense of urgency and threat.

Without a word, she nodded quickly, her movements frantic and desperate.

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

Hours passed, and the tension that had hung in the air earlier now lingered in a heavy silence.

Naib stood motionless, watching intently as the maid shakily approached the staff room’s drawer. Her hands were trembling as she reached for the handle, the sound of the drawer creaking in the stillness. She hesitated for a moment, casting a nervous glance toward him, before slowly pulling it open. Inside, neatly arranged, was a collection of lighters. Naib’s eyes narrowed as he spotted one, its color unmistakable, exactly the same as the one he had lost.

He remained silent, processing the truth that seemed to be unfolding before him. The maid, standing still by the drawer, waited patiently, her hands clasped together in a tight, anxious grip, giving him space to think and absorb what was now undeniable.

"So..." - Naib starts. He glances at the lighter and then back to her. - "... It was really a mistake?”

Naib’s gaze flickered between the lighter and the maid, his mind racing. His eyes narrowed as the pieces of the puzzle seemed to shift, but he held his silence. He let out a deep sigh, his tense posture softening as his expression turned less hostile.

“Alright…” - He paused for a moment, his eyes drifting to her.

“But that doesn’t change the fact that you’ve been in my room. Why were you there in the first place?” - His voice was steady, but the question lingered in the air, carrying a weight that demanded an answer.

The maid’s voice trembled slightly as she spoke, her words hurried. - “I don’t know how, but the manor key can open it. We have a set of keys for cleaning some locked rooms. I... I don’t know how one of them can open yours though…”

Naib's expression softened a little at her explanation, but his suspicion remained.

"And how did you not realize it was my room when you went in? I have my things in there. You would've seen them while cleaning."

She stared at him, her eyes unsure, before glancing down.He held her gaze, waiting for her response.

After a long pause, she finally spoke, her voice quiet. “…Sir, no offense but your room is nothing different from a basic room.”

Naib blinked, caught off guard. "...What?"

She went on, her words calm but firm.

"There's no decoration, no personal items. The only thing that stands out is the lighter on the bed table, but even that looks like one of the manor's own.”

Naib was left speechless for a moment. His room was deliberately sparse, his personal belongings carefully hidden away, nothing to give away who he was. He didn’t care for fancy things, and his job demanded secrecy.

Naib stared at the maid. She stared back at him. The awkward silence was so thick that the ticking of the clock seemed almost deafening.

After a beat, he sighed, rubbing his temple. Naib glances over at her, and sees the look on her face. He's never been confronted about his room's barrenness before, and it embarrasses him more than anything. He clears his throat, trying to regain some composure.

"... You can leave."

The maid tilts her head slightly, a mix of curiosity and concern crossing her face.

"I... apologize, sir." - She says, her voice gentle, almost hesitant. - "I didn't mean to-”

Naib looks away, his mind racing as he fumbles for the right words.

"No, it's fine." - He mutters, still avoiding her eyes. - "Just... leave.”

After she leaves, Naib can't help but sigh in embarrassment. He sighs, rubbing his face in frustration. The maid had been nothing but kind, yet doubt still lingers. At least, she's not an enemy.

Innocent enough, he tells himself. He shakes his head, trying to push the thoughts away. I’m overthinking, he mutters under his breath.

✦.───────── ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ───────── .✦

Slow burn. Tough guy needs time 😔

[tiredmamaissy]

Alpha Sung Jin-woo helping me through my heat? Yes, pretty please.

🔞mdni🔞

alpha!jinwoo x lycan!shadow reader

Warnings: smut, p in v, masturbation, dubcon, heat cycle, dom jin, virginity loss, profanity, disgusting filth, creampie, alternating female + male povs, i.e your pov vs jins

a/n: a fair warning I was ovulating while I wrote majority of this ok? So it’s just kinda filthy I apologize. I’ve been thinking about Jinwoo helping us through heat for quite a while and this was the only way my brain could conjure up a situation to make that possible lol I also alternate povs between yours and then jinwoos so we get an idea of what hes feeling too, so I’m so sorry if this is a tad weird 😂

w/c: 7k

your pov 

Aside from my notably pointed ears and canines, there isn’t much else that sets me aside from the humans. Yeah, my hair looks silver in some lighting but my body is pretty identical to that of a human. Well, for the most part. I do have…extra features. 

I thought that being a part of the master's army would change those things—you know, being dead and all. Yet, things are mostly the same aside from the overwhelming urge to serve Master Jinwoo in every way possible. He’s the better king, anyways. 

My father comes nowhere near him. He made me suffer most months, throwing me in the dungeon in the basement of the castle and letting the moon shove a double edged sword through my body as I cried out in agony. 

I thought that was all over. 

One would assume that existing in this…form would mean no pain and discomfort, or even emotions and needs. But I feel everything like I would back in the castle with my shitty excuse for a father. 

But I just…never expected this. 

Another wave ripples through me, tearing me from my thoughts and bringing me to my knees. The other shadows take notice in this little bubble that we float in until the king summons us. Some turn their heads to look at me, while others turn their heads to ignore me. I suppose we all still have most of our free will. 

I clench my thighs together and will the cramp to radiate down and out my extremities. I seal my lips tight but a little whimper still escapes them, and it shocks even me. I don’t know how much more of this I can take. It’s only been a few hours and it’s only getting worse. Just like it used to. At this point, father would be locking the door and throwing away the key.

But I refuse to let this happen in front of the others. At least in my dungeon I had the privacy to suffer and squirm and squeal on my own. I keep my focus on my bruised knees and force the muscles in my thighs to relax. Maybe I can get my own bubble or something. 

I am the only girl here. 

“What’s wrong with her?” I hear a whisper behind me, and the sound of shuffling beside me.

“She kind of…smells.” Another voice fires the words like an arrow through me. 

Not fair. I can’t control that part of this. 

I peek up through my lashes and catch a glimpse of the blockhead called Iron dramatically pointing at me in dead silence. He looks as if he just discovered new land or something. I open my mouth to give him a piece of my mind but an armored hand gives his wrist a satisfying smack. 

“That’s rude.”

It’s Igris, my favorite shadow in the army. Not that I really know the others anyways. He’s the quietest of the lot, and is seemingly master's second in command. I’m not exactly excited for him to see me like this, but there isn’t much I can do about it. I look away and curl into a ball to soothe the dull ache in my core. 

“What’s the matter?” Igris takes a knee beside me and looks me over. “Are you in pain?”

Gods, what do I even say? Nothing, that’s what. I give him a slight nod and bite my cheek to stifle the groan trying to escape from me too. 

“She smells good.” Iron speaks like a caveman, inching his way closer to Igris. Igris extends a hand behind him and halts Iron with a shove, forcing him to keep a distance from me. 

“Give her space.” Igris says sternly, a little louder than needed. I guess that message was for everyone. My cheeks heat up. Shit. I tuck my head down to hide my flushed face and that throb down there worsens. 

Igris tenses. I can sense it—he’s strung taut like a bow ready to snap. I can’t help but wonder if it’s me making him that way or if he’s just being his usual self. Regardless, I can’t bring myself to look back at him right now. Not when I’m making a little mess in my panties. No, that would be shameless. 

Igris clears his throat and his armour clanks as he lowers his face next to mine. “You are part Lycan, correct?” 

Igris speaks for only me to hear. It sounds as if there’s a hidden question disguised behind that one. Whatever it is, I don’t answer. He sighs slightly and allows the uncomfortable silence to pass between us. After what feels like an eternity, Igris pulls back and straightens his spine.

“I’ll inform the king.”

Suddenly we’re being sucked out of this bubble and my heated skin is on the cold tile. It feels like I’m sizzling against it’s surface, and the feeling is delectable. I wonder if my master will let me stay here for a while longer. Just until it’s all over. 

“Inform me of what?” Jin-woo stands before me, yet he’s looking at Igris beside him with his arms crossed over his chest. 

I feel like we’re in trouble or something, especially with him standing like that. It’s making me nervous but the sensation deep in me isn’t allowing the nerves to take over. I can’t get up even if I try. I tighten my grip around my knees and my fangs descend and throb in my mouth.

I hate this. 

“She’s…in pain.” Igris speaks with uncertainty in his voice, like if it were a question rather than a statement. Jinwoo shifts his focus on me, looking down at me with a cocked brow. I guess he’s never had issues with one of his shadows like this.

“Pain?” Jin-woo sounds almost intrigued. “What happened?”  

Igris doesn’t answer right away, he’s giving me a chance to speak for myself but I don’t take it. I’m feeling more embarrassed than anything right now. 

“I am unsure, master.” Igris finally says and I look up to meet the glowing eyes of my creator. 

Jinwoo is kneeling in front of me. The king himself, kneeling, before me. My face flames and my thighs rub against one another. I show my submission and look down, how dare I look into his eyes when he’s on his knees? 

“Speak.” Jinwoo commands me, and the instinct to obey rides me hard. I surprise myself when I glance over at Igris, and then back to my master. And just like that, Jinwoo waves Igris away and he fades into a black mist. 

“Forgive me, you’re my first female shadow. I know privacy is important.” My king speaks to me with his hand extended. He’s urging me to take it. Oh, gods. I obey and take it, and suddenly I’m being carried across the room and lowered onto what I can only assume is his bed. 

“Now, talk to me.” 

Now I have to say it. There’s no escaping it. He himself is demanding an answer, here and now. 

“Um…” I begin, breaking eye contact to look down at my feet. They feel heavier and I have way more color than usual. I almost look…alive. And with this annoying ache, I almost feel alive too. Jin-woo angles his head to catch my gaze and what feels like my heart bursts through my chest. 

“Just something…Lycan.” 

“Something…Lycan.” Jinwoo repeats slowly, nodding slightly as if he understands what I mean. “Right. So will it fix itself? I don’t know if the system has—”  

“Yes! Yes.” I answer him quickly, calming down when I realise that I’ve totally interrupted him. “It’ll go away in a couple days. I just need, uhm—” 

“You need…?” Jinwoo draws out the word as he waits patiently. 

“My own bubble.” I speak with feigned confidence. This is my chance and I’m determined not to let the other shadows see me like this.

“Your own…bubble?” 

Master seems confused. 

“Yes.” I say, and give my best smile. “Please.” 

His brows furrow. Master is definitely confused. 

“I need…privacy.” I use the word he did. 

“Ah.” Jinwoo nods, and looks at me with an unreadable expression. It’s that same expression someone makes when they're trying to solve one of those oddly shaped puzzles. “Okay. Understood.” 

Perfect. I’m getting my own bubble, and I don’t need to worry about anything else other than just getting through this shit show.

“But I can’t give you your own…bubble.” 

What? Didn’t he just say ‘okay’? That he understands? 

“Instead, you’ll stay here.” He motions to his room and for the first time I take it in. The grey paint on his walls. His wooden wardrobe. The flat screen t/v mounted to the wall. His bed that I’m sitting on. 

He wants me to stay here? 

“You said, what? A couple days? I have more than enough mana to keep you here.” Master speaks so casually about allowing me in his personal quarters. Unbothered, he stalks towards the door and reaches for the handle. He opens the door and lingers in the frame, back turned to me. “Take the bed. I’ll take the couch.” 

Absolutely not. 

“No! M-Master, you can’t. I will take the couch, o-or even the basement! I really don’t need much space. Even the floor is fine.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Jin-woo casts me a glance over his shoulder. “I’ll be tending to a few matters and won’t be here most of the time, anyways.” He walks through the bedroom door, collected and composed. “Make yourself at home.” 

The door closes softly behind him and I’m left alone in a room that smells like him. Every part of this place smells like him. His sheets. His pillow. Even the curtains are stained with his musky scent. 

I feel like I’m floating, being led by my nose like a predator to prey. 

And when I come to, I’m curled up in a pile of his laundry in his bed, stripped buck naked. I don’t quite remember how I got in this position, but I’ve never felt more comfortable in a nest before. All my previous nests have been made of my old blankets, and whatever linen my father throws down in the basement.

This one is perfect. And it smells exactly how it should. I tug a fat pillow towards me and embrace it with all four limbs, inhaling deep and holding it. Heat bubbles in my tummy and I moan into the pillow’s cushioned surface. It muffles it just right. 

My toes curl and my thighs grip the pillow, shimmying it closer and closer to the place where it aches the most. The pressure is sublime. I shove my hand between me and the pillow and my fingers strum at my slippery clit. I bury my face into the pillow and my eyes burn when that hot sensation zings through me. 

“Ahh!”

sung jin-woo’s pov 

I never thought I’d have to deal with one of my shadows being in heat. I got the notification as soon as I summoned her and Igris. 

Notification: [Lycan Shadow] is in heat. Do you want to help her? ☐Yes ☐No

Of course I chose yes. What kind of master would I be if I didn’t help one of my loyal shadows? It’s my responsibility. Plus, she’s female. 

But that doesn’t change the fact that I had no idea what it really meant to pick yes. I’m not an idiot—I know what a heat is, especially for a Lycan. I thought giving her some privacy would be enough but now the system seems to be urging me to do a bit more than that. 

Notification: [Lycan shadow] will peak in her heat in 8hrs35mins12secs. There may be a penalty if the quest isn’t completed. 

Quest? Penalty? 

I shift to my side on the couch—I don’t remember it being this tough. The annoying screen follows me and I wave it away. I don’t have time for this. Just keeping her here in this condition is draining my mana quicker than I expected. 

But a penalty? For what? 

I’ve kept her here, let her in my room, in my bed. Isn’t that enough? What more does she need from me? 

Her scent alone was enough to make my head spin. If I didn’t get out of that room when I did I would have lost my shit. I can’t say for certain exactly what would have happened, but she smells like something I’ve never smelled before. She smells like a feeling. 

She smells ripe. 

Fuck, what am I thinking? Ripe? Like a fucking fruit? I toss over to my other side and smack the pillow a couple times. I need to buy a new couch. Imagine if I let her take this piece of plywood that I’m laying on? Or the floor in the basement? I don’t even have a basement. I live on the top floor of an apartment complex. It makes things easier for me when it comes to Kaisel.

Anyways—is that what her father did? Throw her in the basement when her heat came on? I should’ve made that fucker’s death a slow one. 

I huff a sigh and spring up into a sitting position. I eye the floor, maybe it is the better option. I bury my face into my hands. I have a couple commitments for the hunters association tomorrow but those will need to wait for now. I need to deal with her first…however that may be. 

I wonder if she’s okay right now. She didn’t look great at all. And her aura was very off. She felt weak to me, like she was injured and fragile, despite her being a shadow. It made my protective instincts go haywire for a moment. I know Igris felt it too. Couldn’t he have taken the weight of some of this for me? They both exist on the shadow plane that she likes calls a ‘bubble’. 

Cute. Very cute. 

I see what she meant by needing her privacy, though. With a scent like that I can’t trust my soldiers to keep to themselves. I know Igris wouldn’t allow any funny shit to go down but females like their privacy. Jin-ah made me realize that long ago. 

I know that checking on her now would be an invasion of that. So why do I want to? This badly, too? There’s something deep in me urging me to get up and make sure she’s alright. It’s not just my protective instinct. It’s something more. Something primal. 

And the idea unnerves me. 

I stand and begin pacing in my living room to cool off a bit. But my head won’t clear. My thoughts go from obligations I have to get done, to her. Everything about her. The pink on her cheeks that appeared once I started pouring mana into her summoning. The shine in her silver hair when the moonlight caught it just right. The way she squeezed her thighs together and that scent of hers grew even stronger. I bet that’s where it’s emitting from. 

Fucking hell. Get your shit together, man. 

Whatever she’s going through is affecting me too. That’s clear as day. And now I’m standing in front of her door. My door. Well, it’s her door for the next couple of days. Fuck. What’s wrong with me? This is creepy behaviour. I lean in, tilting my head to press the shell of my ear to its wooden exterior. 

Very creepy behaviour. 

So why can’t I stop? I strain to listen, and my hand rests on the door handle. What am I doing? I rip my hand away from the metal and clench my jaw. 

“Ahh!”

Shit. Go in there and check she’s safe.  

No. She’s fine. She’s safe. She’s in my room. I’m here, guarding her. I need to calm down and get myself together, this is ridiculous. She’s a shadow for Christ sake—

“Mmm~” 

Oh? What was that? 

“Ngh!” 

Yep. That was definitely a moan of some sort. I wonder if I’m actually immune to heart attacks, because it feels like I might be having one right now. Or maybe all the blood is just rushing to the wrong head.

“Mmph!”

Christ. Forgive me. 

I palm my crotch, I can’t help it. My hard on hurts. My boxers have no stretch to them. 

Her little sounds are picking up now. They’re muffled but these walls are thin. I want to know what she’s doing in there to be making those noises. 

I need to know. 

My hand goes for the door handle again but I reign it back in. I force myself to step away from the door all together. I’m not doing this. This is a line that I won’t cross with a shadow. I take a few more steps back, turn and head straight for my bed made of concrete. I slip under the blanket and rest my arm over my forehead. 

I force myself to close my eyes and concentrate on getting some sleep and ignoring those delicious sounds coming from my bedroom. Right, ignoring them. I opt to listen to the electricity from the fridge, the ceiling fan, the clock—anything. But nothing distracts me from those sweet, sweet noises she’s making.

Fuck.

I’m as hard as this couch. Rock solid. I haven’t been this hard since high school for fucksake. I try to ignore the branch in my pants and turn over to go to bed. But nothing’s working. 

My hand slides under the band of my boxers and I grab my cock with a vice-like grip. I want it to go down—go away. There’s a part of me that doesn’t want to admit what I’m feeling. 

My shadow is making me unbelievably horny. 

Her sounds. Her scent. 

God, help me. 

My hand moves, up and down. It hurts, so I loosen my grip. I can’t stop my own movements. Just the thought of her in lying in my bed possibly doing things to herself to be making those noises is driving me over the fucking edge. I look over at the door, it’s still shut. 

Good. I can’t have her catching me. This is already crazy as it is. I feel like I’m sneaking around, like I did when I was younger. My hand moves faster. Shit, I’m gonna come already. I can hear her moans from here now, they’re getting even louder and longer. Whatever she’s doing in my room is about to come to a finale. 

And fuck, so am I. 

“F-Fuck!”

“Oh, fuck.” I groan a little too loudly for my liking and explode in my cupped hand. 

I can’t remember the last time I came this fucking hard. I fumble into the kitchen and clean myself up, fixing my boxers and taking a moment to gather myself. I’m going to pretend like I didn’t just cum to one of my shadows and head to bed. 

I’ll deal with this heat thing tomorrow. 

— —

It’s been a few hours and I still haven’t slept. Nor have I calmed down either. I’m getting a little concerned. How many hours need to pass before I see a doctor about having a hard on again? It won’t fucking go down and it’s got its own heartbeat. But how could it when her scent is leaking through the cracks of the door frame? It’s literally seeping out the room in a light tangible mist. 

I don’t know how much more I can take. Her sounds are definitely not helping either. They’re so much louder and desperate—raw and primal. She is most certainly fucking herself in there. And I’d be the world’s biggest liar if I said I didn’t want to be the one in there fucking her. All she needs to do is say the words, and I’d shove my cock in her little cunt so fucking deep. 

I catch my breath. How long was I holding it for? I’m sweating like I’ve climbed a hundred stories and I swear my muscles are swelling. I slip my shirt off, it’s way too tight. The timer says there’s about two hours left until this peaks but I can’t last that long. I’ll have to take Kaisel out to get some fresh air or something. 

Or I’m going to fuck her. 

Shirtless, I grab a coat and bolt to the front door.

“...M-Master.” 

Fuck. She’s calling for me. Fuck. I need to leave now. 

“...oh!...please.” 

My hand grips the door handle and I watch myself turn it. Wait. This isn’t the handle to the front door. It creaks open and her intoxicating scent bursts out and hits me like a ten ton truck. My head spins and my vision blurs for a second. Shit. I blink to focus my eyes and—

Oh, god. 

She’s bent over on all fours in a bed of my linen and laundry, sticking her pussy up in the air. Right in front of my face. Presented on a silver platter for my enjoyment. Swollen and bright pink, and ultra glossy from her heat. 

Fuck, that is where this delicious scent is coming from. 

It looks like it’d be so warm and gooey inside. I need to find out–to be inside. My cock throbs at the thought and I adjust myself. She begins rocking back and forth, thrusting her pussy into the air and then onto my very soaked pillow. Has she been using that thing to get off this whole time? No wonder this has lasted for hours.  

I glance down at her face and the expression etched into her soft features sends a pang through my chest. She’s been suffering, unsatisfied and desperate for a proper release this entire time. I’ve left her here this long because of why again? I can’t remember, but it doesn’t matter. Because I’m going to make this all better.

“You called.” 

your pov

I don’t think I’ll be getting any sleep tonight. Not that I’m necessarily surprised or anything, but it still sucks. King Jin-woo’s scent is making this way worse than it usually is. My body probably thinks that a male is here to mate–or whatever my aunt says about Lycans in their heat. Father never allowed that of course, so it quickly became just a bedtime folklore for me. 

But shit, now that it’s happening…everything is so much more intense. 

I rock back and forth. Harder. Faster. It aches, a constant throb of need, pulsing in my womb, in my pussy. I yearn to be filled. By him. By my master, my king. My body craves him, his scent. 

My head feels like it’s stuffed with wool and I can’t concentrate to form a coherent thought. A moan splits my lips and I’m head first into the pillow, arching my back and sticking my pussy in the air. I can feel how swollen I am, and I’m dripping everywhere—down my legs, onto his sheets, his blankets, his clothes.  

My hand mindlessly wanders between my thighs, again. Jokes on it, because nothing it or this pillow can do is going to make it go away. I’ve lost count on how many times I’ve rubbed at that little bump down there. But I know it’s enough to make it really puffy and sensitive. I feel my fingers press little circles into it, and my tears start flowing again. 

I’m crying like an idiot. Thank the gods that I’m alone. The sensation is so overwhelming. It’s too much yet nowhere near enough at the same time. My body is craving more than my fingers can give. Something big enough to reach deep inside me and get rid of that itch I can’t ever reach. My back bows even more and my toes strain and sink into the bed.

I’m presenting my pussy to nobody. 

Because no one’s coming. There is no male. 

My knees drag forward and I hardly bring myself to mount his pillow again. It’s wet from the times I’ve used it to make myself cum. I’m so sore and weak but I can’t help myself. This is truly pathetic, and I ought to be ashamed of myself. But I’m not. I’m really not. I want to call out for him, my master. 

My alpha. 

He’ll make this better, he’ll make the ache go away. 

“...m-master…alpha…” I hear myself croak and another cramp rattles me. “...oh! please...” 

I rock again, sinking my pussy down onto Jinwoo’s pillow and then shoving it back into the air. 

A gust of wind makes me shudder and I hump the pillow another time. 

“You called.” 

Masters’ deep voice envelops me like a cool breeze on a humid day. I didn’t even hear him come in. It feels like my ears are stuffed with cotton, too. My hips thrust my pussy even harder into the air. 

What’s happening to me? 

It’s never been this bad.

“Please.” I barely manage to get out. He should know what I’m asking for, he’s the male. My hips rut my mound into his pillow, pressing my hard, sticky clit into the wet fabric. His footsteps come closer, and I can feel his overpowering presence behind me. It’s so domineering, I feel like I’m suffocating.

“Please, what?” His voice is thick with restraint.

But why is he resisting?

“Please, help me.” I sob the last two words, dismounting his pillow and shuffling back until my knees are at the edge of the bed. “I can’t take it a-anymore, alpha.” 

“Alpha? That’s new.” He lets out a husky chuckle and his fingertips brush against my outer thigh as he positions himself behind me. I whine from his touch and my back sinks even lower. “I guess you could say that I’m your alpha, sure.” 

“Yes, alpha. Please, a-alpha. It’s h-hurting now.”

I’m blubbering. Nothing makes sense. Nothing feels right. I can’t think clearly, I can’t stop my tears, I can’t stop my body. I’m scared, but also excited and aroused. His fingers sink into the fat on my thigh and drag themselves up to my hip, seizing it with force. He tugs me onto him, pressing his clothed bulge against my swollen pussy. 

“Fuck, love. Your pussy is weeping.” He groans, gripping my other hip to hold me steady. I’m not going anywhere. I need this. “Is that how badly she wants me? Enough to cry?” 

He’s speaking about my pussy like it’s got a mind of its own. I mean, it feels that way right now. It’s throbbing for him, leaking clear beads of this sticky liquid it won’t stop making onto his pants. 

He needs to take those off, how will we do this if he doesn’t?   

Master yanks at my hips, ramming me back onto him suddenly–roughly.

“Answer me.” He growls and a sweltering heat floods my cunt. 

“Yes, alpha.” I whisper in anticipation, spreading my legs a little further to make space for his huge figure.

He is alpha. 

“Good girl.” I feel him pluck at the string on his pants and tug them down his legs. “Now, you want me to help you? Yeah?” Jinwoo’s voice is rough and it’s doing things to my body. His hand slips to my inner thigh and his fingertips barely brush against my puffy clit. 

“Mmm—mhm!” I hum and nod, chasing his fingers with my hips. Why is he teasing me? “Please al-pha.” 

“You know, you’re a well-mannered shadow when it suits you, princess.” Jinwoo lets out a subtle chuckle, arching over me until he’s cheek to cheek with me. His cock is prodding at me but in all the wrong places. He needs to be inside. 

“Say the words. And I’ll do it.” His voice lowers to a whisper and he’s putting more and more weight on top of me. “Tell me exactly how you need me to help you.”

I don’t understand how any of this is possible but I don’t care. I’ve never felt more alive than at this moment. 

“Inside. P-Put it inside.” I whimper shakily and my hips stutter to notch him at my opening. It’s becoming obvious that he’s doing this on purpose and I can’t understand why. “H-Hurry please!” 

“Tsk... Put what inside, love?” He tsks, and a menacing smirk tugs at his lips. His knees sink into the mattress behind me. 

“You, alpha. You.” I answer desperately, and he remains stockstill. “Your…cock.” 

“Oh. This?” I feel him tug down his boxers and his cock springs out. It’s hot against me, twitching and pulsing between my pussy lips. I nod like an idiot and my bottom lip quivers. 

Why is he doing this to me?

“Inside where?” His smirk morphs into a little grin and he lets go of my hip to guide himself exactly where he’s supposed to be. “Here?” 

Gods, yes. Yes. Right there.

“Come on. Tell your alpha.” Jin-woo growls the order. 

“Yes. Want you in my pussy! Ple-ase!” I cry out and back up on him, and I hear him chuckle again. What’s so fucking funny? He needs to hurry or I’m going to lose myself completely. 

“God, it's taken everything in me to hold back for this long, you know that? You’ve really been fucking with my head.” Master grumbles, rubbing his cockhead up and down along my slick opening. “Just keeping you here in this form is using most of my mana, princess. I don’t know how much patience I have left in me.”

In this form? What form? I don’t care. He needs to move. 

“Don’t you feel it?” He whispers, catching himself just right at my softest, most sensitive spot. He pushes, gently, slowly. It’s huge. Oh, no. No, he won’t fit. But he needs to. He has to. I spread myself even more, meeting this pressure half way. 

“Don’t you feel…alive? Or is your heat fucking with your head too much for you to notice?” 

What the fuck is he on about?

Smack.

Fuck. Oh fuck. Oh, fuck. 

A high pitched noise rings my ears and I think it might be me. My body tenses and my mind goes blank. The burn is divine but he might actually be splitting me wide open. He’s so big, so deep—so fucking deep. Pushing an exquisite pressure right into that tender, itchy part inside me. It hurts, but it hurts so good. I had no idea that this is what I’ve been missing for all these dreadful months.  

Jinwoo huffs next to my ear, stilling himself inside me. “You okay?”

sung jin-woo’s pov

Easy, Jin. Slowly. Let’s not break her.

I’m pumping mana into her so her form is more real than shadow. From her soft curves down to each strand of hair on her head—I know she’s feeling every little thing as if her heart were actually beating. I don’t think she’s realized though, she’s way too out of it. 

“Don’t you feel…alive? Or is your heat fucking with your head too much for you to notice?”

I attempt to breach her and meet pure resistance. God, she’s tight as fuck. I heave a breath and roll my hips forward, breaking that resistance little by little until I feel a sudden pop. She squeals and her pussy clamps down on my cock, fuck—not good. Not. Good.

The compulsion to sink myself all the way inside is entirely too overwhelming. I try my best to fight it but my hips stammer against my will and whatever strength I have left goes right into forcing my cock inside her tight little cunt in one hard thrust.  

Holy fuck, yes. 

Her pussy isn’t anything near what I imagined. It’s everything and more. And it didn’t give easy. She’s so warm and sticky and soft inside. She’s hugging every inch my cock so fucking tight. 

I grit my teeth so I don’t spray my load inside her. I need to calm down, keep a level head. Make sure I don’t do anything I shouldn’t—like spray my load inside her. But she’s so tight and tense, she’s going to snap my dick in two if she doesn’t ease up. 

She feels like a virgin.

Shit. I didn’t even consider the fact that this might be her first time. 

“You okay?” I huff, desperately trying to resist the urge to rut into her and work her little pussy open for me. If she is, I’ve probably hurt her. “Don’t tell me I just stole your virginity, princess.” 

She whimpers and nods her head into my pillow. Shit. I did. I should’ve been gentler—stayed in control. Eased her into it, stretched her first. 

“S-shh—‘m sorry. Does it hurt?”

She does a series of nods and shakes, like she’s entirely unsure about how she’s feeling right now. But her eyes say it all, they’re puffy and glisten from her tears. I make sure not to move at all, I’m as still as the statue that once killed me. 

“Breathe. It’ll stop hurting soon.” I coo and force myself to loosen my grip on her hips so I can trail my fingers along her spine. She backs up onto me and I glance down.

Dear God, why did I look down? 

Her pussy is stretched thin on my cock, it actually looks like it's sucking me in. Gratification swirls deep in my belly when the dangerous realization sinks in. 

I’m the first cock to ever be in this pussy. 

This cunt belongs to me, and only me now. A flame ignites within me that’s all consuming. It’s a feeling—a feeling of something that’s been imprinted into my being from the very beginning—an instinctual urge that I must satisfy. 

The urge to claim this female underneath me, to make her pussy mine and to stain her womb with my seed. 

Control yourself, Jin. Look away. 

I fling my head back because there’s no way that I can willingly tear my eyes away from the sight of her virgin cunt stretching so beautifully around my cock. I eye the popcorn ceiling and follow the blades of the fan as they spin. 

Focus, focus.

The urge to look again rides me. I grunt and fight it, I have more restraint than this. I clench my jaw. Fuck, I don’t know if I can hold out. I can feel her pussy relaxing and tightening around me. 

Then she rocks on me. 

Back and forth, back and forth. Like she did on the pillow that’s completely drenched with her cum. A low rumble comes from her, she’s growling her impatience, trying to fuck me. I look down and god, her pussy is quivering, drooling strings of her sweet, sticky nectar on my cock. 

She rocks against me harder and lets out a broken groan, and her thighs start to shake. I think she’s gonna come. Fuck yes, she’s about to come on me. 

“Don’t tell me. Is my little virgin princess about to come?”

My instincts dominate me, and my hips buck against my volition. I’m totally out of control. How in the world is she doing this to me? I'm behaving like a goddamn animal. 

Thrust. 

Please, God. 

Thrust. 

I can’t stop myself. 

She nods frantically and meets my brutal thrusts with desperation and need. I growl and piston my cock inside her pussy, hard. She moans loud and long, and her cunt squeezes me so hard that I get a headrush. Her pussy pulses, coating me in a thick slick. 

She’s cumming. Fuck, she’s cumming. 

“Yes, cum on my cock.” I encourage her, hunching over her petite frame. The skin on the back of her neck looks so soft—so delicate. “So pretty.” I want to bite it. Mark her so everyone will know that she belongs to me. What the fuck? No. I won’t do that. I can’t. 

But I want to. And my cock is already kissing her womb so why can’t I exactly?

She’s my shadow, that’s why. She’s not in the right frame of mind. That’s why.

But I’m not either. 

your pov

Whatever pain I felt is long gone, replaced by an overwhelming sensation of good, and right—how things should be. 

Bright white stars twinkle behind my closed eyes. Waves of raw pleasure smack into me and make my legs tremble uncontrollably. He’s filling me so good that I have no other choice but to take his cock and his every thrust.

“Yes, cum on my cock. So pretty.” His words are a hot mist against my neck and I feel his weight shift on top of me. 

Yes. Mount me. 

“Fuck, why do I want to bite you so bad?” 

I don’t know but he should. I show him my throat and whine low, spreading my legs for him to fuck me again. 

“Do it.” I moan, and my hips rock again. I want him to pound me, and then fill my empty womb—it aches. “Please. Bite me, fuck me.” 

He tenses behind me, resisting again. I don’t want him to. 

“I didn’t know such filth could come from a princess’s mouth.” 

Jinwoo’s dark, monotonous voice sends a spasm through my pussy. His fingers grip my jaw and he tugs my head back, exposing my throat. His hot tongue drags along my pulsating jugular and he shuffles from his knees to the balls of his feet. 

“I don’t understand exactly how you’re doing this to me, but I hope you can take it.” He growls a warning and I break out into a shiver. “Because I don’t think I can hold back anymore.” 

He pulls out of me, leaving his mushroomy cockhead notched right under my pelvic bone. The empty feeling makes me mewl and my hips search for him. 

“You’re so fucking noisy.” He huffs, annoyed, teeth scraping against my skin. “So goddamn needy.” His fingers tighten on my jaw, and he plunges his cock back inside me. I see more stars, more fireworks. I yelp out, and my tears trickle down my cheeks again. 

“Quiet, princess. The floor under us will think I’m doing something you don’t want.”

And then he bites me. 

He sinks his blunt teeth into me, locking his jaw when I begin to squirm from the feeling of being claimed—marked. The fingers wrapped around my jaw quickly slip down my throat and muffle my shriek. 

Gods, it’s too much. Too much. 

“Yes—yes!” I gurgle, and he bites down even harder. I’ll be bruised for weeks but that’s okay. 

He grinds into me, grunting while he’s shoving all he can inside as deep as it’ll go. He works me open, and I feel him deep in my tummy. I guess I’ll be bruised there too, and that’s definitely okay. I want to feel him in me for weeks, until the moon shows me her wicked face again.

Alpha releases me from his bite and he kisses the double crescent mark. I feel him pepper kisses down my shoulder, and he tastes my skin there too. He’s not moving anymore, just staying really deep inside me, hunched over me, breathing hard and loud. I whine loud and suckle on his fingers. 

“Mmm, fuck. Hush.” He snaps at me, breathless. “You want alpha to make it better?”

I nod again, my tears and saliva dribble onto his hand, down his wrist. I see his eyes glow bright in my peripheral vision. He’s going to wreck me and I can’t wait.

“Then be a good girl for me, won’t you?” He growls and smacks into me. 

Once, twice. Thrice. Again, and again. Brutally, cruelly. His thrusts are bloodthirsty, like he’s the beast and not me. He holds me firmly in place, his grip is unrelenting—I can’t get away even if I tried. I’m forced to take each unsparing strike and stroke. 

That heat whirls in my lower abdomen again, and I feel like a matchstick about to burst into flames. His cock is ramming right into that spot super deep, filling it, swelling it. I bite down on his fingers to stifle a guttural moan and he hisses, picking up his pace as punishment. I clamp down on his cock and—

I’m gonna come. 

“Not yet.” He grunts, pulling his fingers out of my mouth and shoving me onto my stomach. 

He yanks his cock out of me and strokes himself with one hand while he uses the other to toss me onto my back. Now he’s looking down at me with an intoxicated expression, bullying his thick frame between my trembling legs. He’s back on the balls of his heels, folding me in half, pinning my legs back so my knees graze against my pointed ears. 

“I want to see what you look like when you come, princess.” 

His cock prods at my sore pussy before he catches it just right and drives himself back inside me with an urgency. He lets out a depraved groan, one that makes me a little nervous, and I swear he goes even deeper than before. 

“M-Master…Al-Alpha…” I whisper as best as I can in this position and my bottom lip juts out. “‘s s-so deep.” 

“Isn’t that what you want, hm?” He uses his strength to push himself into me and his heavy balls press into me. I squeal from the pressure and jolt back but he keeps me where he wants me. “...what you need?” 

My head spins and I start sputtering, switching between mumbling and trying to catch my breath as his weight punches the air out of my lungs. 

“You look so fucked out right now.” He withdraws from me and plunges into me again, putting all of his weight on me. “So drunk on my cock. Yeah?”

I whimper shakily and electricity bolts up my spine. 

“Ooh, fuck. Let me see how pretty you look when you come, love.” He smirks and fucks into me hard and fast, staring deep into my eyes—taking my soul for a second time. “Come on—” He’s growling all his words, his hips striking me with purpose and intention, vicious smack after smack—coaxing my orgasm out of me. “Let your alpha feel your little virgin cunt.” My face screws and I sob when my release takes over me, sending my body into a frenzied convulsion underneath him. “Yes, that’s my pretty girl. Good girl.” He pants and presses his forehead into mine, and his movements falter. “Gonna breed you so deep, so hard, fuck—” 

Yes. Breed me. 

He lets out a sudden, loud grunt, and then I feel it. A harsh throb that isn’t mine, and a heat flooding deep inside me. His hips buck and rut in an uncontrolled manner, and he groans lengthily, darkly. His breath is heavy and fast, and he’s still looking me deep in the eye. I feel myself fade, the dim lights in his room darken some more and my breath won’t stop hitching. I’m satiated and so full—so happy. 

I’m exactly where I should be. 

sung jin-woo’s pov

 I watch her eyes unfocus and her eyelids droop—she’s slipping away. I ease up off of her and throw her leg over to her side, and tuck myself behind her. I stay inside her, making sure not a single drop of my seed is spilled. If I could plug her full of me, I would. My head is still quite foggy, but I can feel that it’s starting to clear now. Her scent is less potent, and her body isn’t as hot to the touch. 

Is it over?

Notification: [Secret Quest: A Lycan’s Heat] is complete.

I breathe a sigh of relief. Her heat has broken. I dismiss the blue screen and glance over to my bedside clock—6:47a.m. An orange hue illuminates behind my grey curtains, and my eyes grow heavier. My mana is dangerously low, but I’ll let it run out completely. 

I don’t want this to end just yet. 

[eunxhan]

❝ I am forever your most devoted believer. ❞

• ──────── ⌒⌒⌒ ︶︶︶

• ──────── ⌒⌒⌒ ︶︶︶

Ꮺ : MANDATES ( RULES) — UNDER CONSTRUCTION!

I think I've made myself clear with how many disclaimers and warnings I've put in my posts recently, if you choose to ignore and continue to interact with my posts while being underage. It's not my responsibility on what you consume.

HATEFUL MESSAGES/ASKS

Please know what or how to say your words, keep everything respectful towards me or anyone who interacts with my blogs.

Keep it in a sarcastic level.

REQUESTING/ASKING

Use an identifying name or emojis.

Use of tone markers.

Do not vent in my requests but You can vent to me privately.

Be aware of my boundaries.

Be specific as much as you can, Especially in OCs.

RULES

I do not condone YANDERE behavior in real life, I don't have such fantasies.

Dark and Mature themes are welcome!

I can write for characters that aren't in the fandoms I write for, just give me a specific info or link about the characters.

I write male,gn,nb.

Ꮺ : REQUESTS / ASKS

Maximum of four characters per request

Gender neutral unless specified

Always open to chat

I have the right to ignore some requests.

Ꮺ : I DO NOT CONDONE ANY BAD / YANDERE BEHAVIOR, PLEASE DO NOT ASWELL.

• ──────── ⌒⌒⌒ ︶︶︶

Ꮺ : I DO WRITE

Headcanons | One-shots | DrabblesCrossovers / Alternate Universe

Suggestive | Platonic / Romantic Relationships | Mini Series

Soft, Angst, Dark, NSFW

Ꮺ : I DO NOT WRITE

Pedophilia | INCESTOUS | NON-CON

Minor characters aged up versions. | Never change character's sexuality who's canonically in LGBTQ.

• ──────── ⌒⌒⌒ ︶︶︶

Ꮺ : FANDOMS I WRITE

— I can write for characters in any fandoms.

ANIME

Jujutsu Kaisen

Bungo Stray Dogs

Blue lock

Haikyuu

Blue period

VIDEO GAMES

Obey me

What in the hell is bad?

Mystic messenger

Twisted Wonderland

Genshin Impact

Honkai Impact

Dead by daylight

Identity V

Deadplate

Call of Duty

WEBTOONS

Coming soon..

MISCELLANEOUS

Helluva Boss

Marble hornets

Alien Stage

Harry Potter

Hazbin Hotel

Creepy pasta

The boy

Dead boy detectives

ORIGINAL CHARACTERS

Will be making character profiles.

• ──────── ⌒⌒⌒ ︶︶︶

Ꮺ : I DO NOT CONSENT TO MY WORK BEING COPIED OR TRANSLATED.

• ──────── ⌒⌒⌒ ︶︶︶

[madelynraemunson]

pass the salt • e.m. smut

DAD’S BEST FRIEND!OLDER!EDDIE x FEM!READER

summary: you’re home from college and staying with your dad for the summer, spending as much time as you possibly can with him…and his hot best friend that you’ve never seen in your life.

authors note: okay have you guys ever seen those text posts like “when you say ‘daddy pass the salt please’ and your father and your man both reach for it” 💀💀 well this is inspired by that concept. also i went overboard and this is a LONG BOI

disclaimers — photo credits to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple 🫶🏼porn with plot, reader’s nickname is “sunshine”, reader has female anatomy, race unspecified, divider: @iluvpooks

NSFW — 18+ obv, porn with plot, daddy kink pls keep scrolling if it’s not ur thing, slight age gap (eddie is mid to late 30s, reader is in her early 20s), corruption kink, size kink, masturbation (m&f), p in v sex (protected), dirty talk, teasing, sexual innuendos, extreme flirting, eddie kinda being a perv, praise kink

The sound of breakfast on the griddle summons you downstairs.

Dad never cooks.

For as long as you can remember, weekends at your dad’s have always consisted of Lucky Charms cereal and powdered donuts. That tradition continued even after you started college.

Oh yeah. Someone is here, alright. Someone Dad desperately wants to impress.

Trailing after the commotion, your fuzzy pink slippers guide you down the wooden steps of your dad’s ‘bachelor pad’ and into the kitchen. And when you near the bottom of the steps, you can make out two distinct voices — one belonging to Dad, another belonging to someone who's identity is obscure.

“God, I fucking missed you, Jeff. Missed everyone so much.”

The smells of pancake batter, cigarette smoke, mint, and petroleum fuel reel you in, but not nearly as much as the sight of the man sitting on the opposite side of your dad. He's built, handsome with wavy brown hair, leather, black denim, twiddling a toothpick between his teeth as he listens to your dad speak with a smile on his face. That is, until you come into sight. It then that his intense focus circles in on you.

Funny. You don’t remember this friend. And something in your gut tells you that you won’t ever be forgetting him after this.

The stranger's grin curls into a wonder-filled smirk. You can feel your knees start to buckle.

“Uh oh. Looks like our shenanigans woke up Sleeping Beauty.”

When you get a closer look at Dad’s friend, you observe his faint brown beard — neatly kept and lightly peppered with some gray — delicious lips, shiny white teeth, and grooves along his laugh lines that would deepen with every theatrical cackle he belted out.

You can't help but freeze in your tracks as him and your dad continue on with their banter, reliving their glory days like it was yesterday. Man. What a damn dreamboat.

Your dad’s eyes light up with glee when he sees you.

“Hey, good morning, Sunshine!” Dad cheers. “Thought you’d never wake up. This is my friend Eddie. We were in that band together in high school. Come say hi.”

"Yeah, come say hi," Eddie agrees. feeding into the obvious tension in the room. "I don't bite."

The stranger laughs at his own comment as soon as he utters it.

There’s a charm — a magic — about Eddie that could only be found in Hollywood or the Big City. But of course, you didn't expect any less from Dad's supposed ‘Rockstar Friend’.

When your parents had you at 17, life went on for Dad’s band Corroded Coffin. And although he missed out on the ‘Sex, Drugs, and Rock&Roll’, Dad insists that tea parties and white picket fences were an ideal trade-off. Because — despite how things ended with Mom — it still meant a life spent with you.

You tell him your name as Eddie offers you his hand to shake. Electricity serges through you when your hand is enveloped by his firm, calloused one. Eddie smiles down at you, his presence all-consuming. It's almost as if he knows it. And as much as you were dying to, you resist the urge to fall into him.

Eddie's no better.

It takes everything in Eddie's power to keep his eyes above your collarbones, reprimanding himself with the utmost tedium. Because heaven knows he'd be TOAST if his best friend found out that Eddie thought that you were absolutely stunning — strutting around the house the way that you do, without a bra underneath that poor excuse of a sleep shirt — a sleep shirt far too tight for your own good. With tight, pajama shorts to match…

Of course, this is all an assumption…Not that he caught wind of it or anything.

“You know…” he mentions. “Your dad has told me SO much about little miss Sunshine.”

“Me, really?” is all you can say behind those fuscia cheeks.

“Really,” Eddie insists. “He never shuts up about you, darling.”

“Hopefully you’ve only heard good things,” you mutter faintly.

And instantly, your dad and Eddie share a laugh.

“Only good things,” Eddie assures you. He nudges your dad playfully.

Your dad doesn’t exactly deny the last part, basically confirming to Eddie that you’ve got a hint of spunk to you. The heat settles at your cheeks as you shy away from your father’s curious friend.

Taking note of how timid you’ve just become, Eddie furrows his brows.

“What — was that an implication that you’re not always good?”

“No comment,” your smile melts into an awkward one.

“Kept me on my toes back then,” your dad reflects with a sigh. “Keeps me on my toes now.”

“You don’t say…” Eddie smirks slightly, gaze panning back over to you.

Eventually your dad leaves you two alone, going into the garage to fetch something that he insists Eddie would like. But little did he know that such thing was already in the room, leaning…reaching into the fridge for some orange juice, not realizing its atmosphere caused your nipples to harden.

Eddie’s eyes proceed to follow you as you strut back to the griddle, flipping some hot cakes over before tending to your messy bedhead.

Eddie probably doesn’t know — or maybe he does, who knows? — that you feel him staring at you. It’s a burning gaze that practically impales you, but you’re too nervous to say anything. You’re better off pretending like it’s something you don’t notice.

You and Eddie continue to help yourselves to breakfast, enjoying the company of each other and your mutual silence. That is, until Eddie speaks up.

“Got some sausage for you if you’d like.”

“I’m sorry?” you sputter, looking up from your food.

Eddie shoots you a weird glance as he holds up some breakfast franks.

“Sausage?” he repeats. “Store was out of beef so I settled for turkey. Hope that’s not a problem.”

“Not at all,” you clear your throat. “I love turkey sausage.”

“Okay, good,” Eddie chuckles, seemingly relieved at how quickly the situation had diffused.

“Cool,” you chuckle with him while taking some links to cook.

The silence returns once more and is replaced by the sizzling of the grill. It’s short lived, however, because soon, the man nearly twice your age speaks again.

“What’d you think I said?” Eddie circles back.

“Nothing, why?”

“You just looked stunned.”

“I just woke up,” you shrug. “My mind’s somewhere else.”

“I can tell,” he smirks. “Get that thing out of the gutter.”

The coming days paved way for some more innocent flirting.

…Like when you make sure to wear the shortest skirt in your closet when running Eddie his afternoon beer in the garage.

“Well don’t you look absolutely darling…” he says as he peers up from his guitar.

“Hehe,” you smirk connivingly. “Thank you!”

“You are so welcome.”

Eddie downs the liquid guilt along with his pride, watching you strut around…the hem of that pleated cotton fabric just barely covering the roundness of your asscheeks. And as you blush a rosy pink when you process his little remarks, Eddie can only clear his throat in arousal, fantasizing about just how badly he wanted to turn your other cheeks that very shade.

…Or when you come downstairs the next day to help Dad manually wash his car.

While he and Eddie are harassing each other with soap and that god-forsaken hose, you decide to join in on all the fun.

“Watch out, Sunshine,” Eddie forewarns. “You’ve just entered the splash zone!”

And with the intention of cooling you off on a hot summer day like this, Eddie teasingly sprays you with said hose, your white shirt becoming transparent when lathered with water. He could see everything. Your erect nipples. Your perky tits bouncing in the sunlight as you jump around in excitement. How glazed your oil-nnuendo’ed skin looked when glimmering in the sun. All as intended.

“You got me,” you surrender yourself to him. “You got me good, Eddie.”

And when you walk away, Eddie mutters slyly to himself.

“Yes, yes I did.”

…And then there’s dessert after dinner.

Eddie watches as you lick your popsicle, his fingers curling at his thighs in arousal as you retract the wrapper before enclosing your lips around the bright pink dessert. And he swears he’s going to blow his pants when he envisions the melted sugar shooting into your mouth with the swiftest hollowing of your cheeks, the quiet suction noise you make with your pursed lips forcing him to adjust the way he’s sitting.

…The final instance takes the cake.

“What’s your major?”

You’re in the home library grazing some of Dad’s old books and vinyls, talking to Eddie while your father gets ready for the day. Meanwhile, Eddie is perched at your dad’s desk, rolling around in his expensive swivel chair and occasionally doing some spins on it to make you laugh.

“History.”

“Sounds boring.”

“You just haven’t found a topic that interests you,” you point out.

“Mm,” is all Eddie says. “Maybe I will eventually.”

Eddie watches as you waltz around in front of him, following your movements with his eyes as you get onto your tippy-toes in order to grab some books on the top shelf.

“Oh my god!” you yelp.

Your plan to entice him seemingly fails when you graze a book that’s halfway off the shelf. It’s already flying off of its platform, headed straight towards Eddie's lap before you can even stop it.

Eddie catches it before any damage can be done, saving Dad’s old campaign book with the hand furthest from you and snaking the other around your waist to prevent you from sinking any further into him.

Phew. Crisis averted.

Your eyes meet again.

“I’m so sorry, Eddie,” you gasp in embarrassment. “That book has a mind of its own.”

“You’re fine,” Eddie laughs. “Can’t defy the laws of gravity. Sometimes it betrays us.”

You feel yourself burning up a fever. Excusing yourself from the room, you leave Dad’s library and make your way over to the kitchen for a glass of water.

But you’re nearly taken aback when you feel tight, calloused hands wrap around your hips, and like a feather it’s like you’re whisked away into the air, and soon your body is pressed up against the wall.

Slam!

Breathing heavily against each other now — chest to chest, lips so unbearably close you can smell the whiskey — Eddie draws you even closer to him. You both study each other intently. It’s like you’re waiting for the other to say something. Eddie does the honors and speaks first.

“I wasn’t born last night, doll. I was also your age at one point.”

———

To his own despair, Eddie touches himself later that night. Facing your room, he strokes his rock hard cock with his lotioned-up hand, running his thumb across the slit of his head, pretending it’s your tongue giving him a little tease like you did the popsicle.

“Fuuuck,” he grunts quietly. “You like when I fuck your throat, baby? Gonna suck me dry with that pretty little mouth of yours?”

You’re playing make-believe just as much. Because at the same time, in your room, you’re a drooling, pathetic mess, riding your wall-mounted toy to oblivion in your bathroom, legs trembling when the thick, veiny piece of silicone slams into the spongy part of your heat, initiating shock-waves all across your body.

“Eddie,” you find yourself blubbering. “EddieEddieEddieEddie…”

You both know it can’t be like this, but that was the mere thrill of it all. And when you both have overcome your peak, just one mere wall apart, the floodgates of guilt outweighs both your arousals the way it comes pouring in.

So, so wrong. But oh, so right.

You’re anticipating…waiting…aching for Eddie to make the next move.

He doesn’t.

“Going to the store again,” Eddie announces. “Hopefully this time they’ll have beef sausage. Need anything?”

Need you, is what you think. But you end up shaking your head, a part of you disappointed that you and Eddie won’t be able to spend some time alone together.

“No,” there’s defeat in your voice.

“Are you sure?” Eddie questions softly.

“Mhm,” you nod.

“Okay,” he gives you a grin, one in the form of a tight-lipped smile. “I’ll be right back. You be good.”

“Ha-ha,” you roll your eyes.

——

Eddie leaves the door of his room open that night. Just a smidge. You end up following the sound of his TV that he’s placed at a low volume, making out that it’s Seinfeld just by Jerry’s voice and the laugh track.

Your heart skips a beat as Eddie laughs along with the show, shaking his head at a stupid joke. But he shifts his focus immediately onto you when he sees you at the doorway.

“Having some alone time tonight?” you ask him.

“Mmm…not by choice,” he responds. “Tuckered your dad out after dinner doing P90X.”

Eddie follows a crazy workout routine. He says that it helps with his stamina, especially when he does crowd work during his stage performances. Your mind can’t help but wonder what else he may be using it for.

You snort. “Yeah. Dad wasn’t what you’d call an athlete in high school.”

Eddie laughs at that too. Both you and him know that.

He then pats the space on his bed beside him. “Wanna come watch with me?”

Your stomach does a series of cartwheels when you process Eddie’s question. You know what’s bound to happen if you follow through. And it seems Eddie knows it too. Even if there wasn’t any sexual tension between you both already, the concept of it all would rub anyone that way.

But you still follow through with it. Just like Eddie knew you would.

“You comfortable?” Eddie asks you, eyeing you endearingly as you squirm around on the bed.

“Yeah,” you breathe.

“Good…” he replies, voice nearly at a strained whisper now.

You two watch the show in silence for a few minutes, exchanging commentary and pleasantries regarding the show every so often. It’s not too long after Eddie pulls a laugh from you that he starts closing up the space between you both, scooting himself closer…and resting his gruff palm over the base of your knee.

You inhale sharply as he does so. And evident by your refusal to pull away, it’s enough of a green light for Eddie to hike up further.

A soft moan escapes your mouth from the back of your flustered throat, but you bite your lip in restraint.

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

"For what?”

You shrug sheepishly as Eddie continues to graze your thigh. Your breathing falters even more.

“Don’t be scared,” Eddie coos.

“I’m not,” you insist.

“Then what’s stopping you from getting on top of me? Hm?”

He’s in between your legs now, the rough material of his denim jeans riding up your sex, teasing your clit with every calculated rub against it.

“And riding my rock hard cock til those pretty legs give out?” Eddie continues. “I see how you’ve been looking at me, doll. It's all over your face how bad you want it.”

“The bed is squeaky,” you answer honestly. “And that headboard is a lost cause.”

Eddie puts the dirty talk on pause, squirming around to assess the guest bed’s squeak factor. When it checks out, he gives you an understanding nod. You giggle.

Eddie wastes no more time. You watch as he grabs one of the pillows on the bed and wedges it between the wall and headboard. He issues you a sly smile.

“Oldest trick in the book.”

You're back to fooling around shortly after, your aching core burning with lust as you pine for him.

“The boys at school ever touch you this good?” Eddie quips rubbing circles around your puffy, needy folds as you hopelessly cling to him out of pleasure.

“No, Eddie.”

“Didn’t think so.”

He continues to tease, gliding his fingers along your slit before slowly inserting two large digits inside of you.

His calculated pumps into your needy pussy are steady, a pace so agonizingly beautiful that it makes you squeal sweet nothings into the crook of his neck.

"Shh, baby," Eddie hushes you. "Your dad's gonna hear us. Gotta be quiet for me, mkay?"

Your hot, messy, and muffled sounds cease as Eddie soothes your quivering lips with his tender ones.

The wet sounds that ricochet and fill the room in tandem is almost enough to send him over. And Eddie is sure to communicate that… with an abrupt curving of his three thick fingers.

Fuck.

Needing him direly now, you tug helplessly at his pants.

“God, Eddie,” you whimper. “Just fuck me already. Please.”

Eddie laughs at the desperation. He hasn’t ravaged you to his fullest extent yet, and you’re already a pooling mess beside him.

“Well since you said please, sweet girl,” Eddie obliges as he starts to undress himself. “Your wish is my command."

You watch Eddie as reaches over into the bedside drawer for a fresh box of condoms. Looks like the sausage links weren't the only things he went to the store for.

“Oh.”

Eddie chuckles at your observation before shrugging. Can you really blame him? You both knew what was coming.

You watch with absolute lust as Eddie slides the piece of rubber over his long, girthy, throbbing cock. He’s bigger than anyone you’ve ever had before, and the snarky, hooded-eye smile as he watches you fawn reveals to you that he knows exactly how to use it.

"On your stomach, babygirl. Will have you all nice and pounded out just like you wanted.”

You situate yourself in prone and spread your legs for Eddie to line himself up against them. He teases his wrapped cock against the entrance of your pussy, and when his soothing countdown is over, your lips part in disposition as you accommodate his ruinous stretch.

A throaty moan spills out of the both of you the moment Eddie snaps his hips in and out of you. Meanwhile, one of his hands lays tauntingly at your stomach, so the prideful man can feel himself wriggling inside you, glazing his shaft with your slick more and more with every pump into your weak cunt.

"Fuck, Eddie... yes..." you mewl. "R-right there, Eddie, please..."

And then it picks up. You can feel Eddie’s hips practically collapse right onto you, his balls slapping against you as he digs further into your body.

"God damn..." the man sighs in disbelief.

He can only beam down at you in awe. You were taking him so good, pussy swallowing him so nice and tight. And when you nestle your ankles between each other to keep him there in prone, the nearly cries out in pleasure, but refrains because he knows your dad is resting — just a thin wall over.

That still doesn’t stop him from going to town though. Practically seeing stars, the broken record of a mouth that belongs to you chants Eddie’s name like it’s all you know. Eddie attempts to keep you contained, offering you his fingers to suck on as he’s railing you dumb.

And when he fucks you through your climax, Eddie continues with his string of lust-filled praises, satisfied at himself that he was able to make you wet enough to soak the mattress.

“Did so good for me, angel,” he praises you as he sucks at your temple. “Always knew you weren’t all that innocent.”

The griddle comes out again on Eddie’s last day. But this time, for a homestyle southern dinner.

You and Eddie were on mashed potatoes and gravy duty at the stove, an ordeal that only opened doors for lots of innuendos on Eddie’s part. Meanwhile, Dad insisted on making the rest, having taken pride in continuing his Mama’s legacy.

“This is amazing, Daddy,” you rave. “I really missed this. Do you mind passing the salt, please?”

And to your horror, you watch as your father and Eddie automatically extend their arms, bumping into one another in the process en route to getting you the salt.

The gentlemen meet each other’s eyes.

“Ohp!” Eddie exclaims, letting out a slight chuckle. “Sorry.”

You try your hardest not to blush. Eddie kicks you from under the table, and softly he oh-so-seductively he mutters,

“I was just tryna help her out.”

[trashmouth-richie]

dulcis ut rosa { sweet as a rose 🥀}

part 1 1/2– dulex (the gnat🥀) pt ii: vitiosus + deliciosus

pt iii: frangere me 🥀pt iv: ad caelum vel infernum, tecum sum

emperor Geta x female servant reader || word count: 4.4k || smidge of caracalla x reader

summary: brought to Palatine Hill as a gift from your village to the new Emperors— Caracalla claims you as his own, but Geta has his own plans for you when the moon crests into the sky.

tw: anal, p in v, rough inexperienced sex, oral m receiving, use of the word whore, caracalla is a whiny bitch, geta is fuckboy of the era. i googled a majority of the historical events, timelines, roman names for things, and latin translation— if it’s wrong, oh well. bad at feelings! geta, insane! crybaby! caracalla. idk geta is an unhinged mother fucker but what if he wasn’t so bad?

It had been months and many cycles of the moon ago when you were sent as a token of goodwill, a gift to the new Emperors in exchange for peace for the small village you resided in. 

Other Virgines and yourself were taken in the dark ebony of twilight, shackled side by side into the wobbly wagon driven by the village's strongest oxen. You didn’t dare object, instead you held your chin high, awaiting fate as the cart swayed this way and that, heart racing and blood pulsing as your journey to the Palatine Hill began. 

Some nights were still spent awake, remembering the crippling fear in your chest as you watched women from your village being gifted to generals as their personal servants. 

Some were given to soldiers as a sense of “release.” No better than a common whore being passed from soldier to soldier, fitting their needs.  The others were pillaged and picked like grapes from a cluster— and finally you had stood alone, defiance pooling in your eyes, pushing back traitorous tears.

Emperors Geta and Caracalla sat on ruby and gold twin thrones, identical in size and power. The tension between them was palpable— so thick you could reach out and stroke its ugly head. Where Caracalla’s grin was full of mischief, Geta had a snarl curled on his upper lip. 

You should have known then. The difference between them.

From where you stood, Geta’s dark eyes looked empty. Every so often they twitched as he spun the rings adorned on his left hand. His eyes rolled when his older brother giggled as the gifts from whatever poor village gave away their ripe, untouched women. 

Bare toes standing on the marble floor— unable to even grab shoes before you were heaved into the cart— you felt a heat from dark eyes that you were certain would drive someone mad if they dared look back. Like the boiling flames from hell itself were simmering in the coal of his irises. 

Caracalla jumped up, stepping forward from his throne, a wicked sense of evilness piercing from the iciness of his stare. His golden tooth caught the sun’s rays and you nearly vomited as he strode forward, eyeing you like a meal. 

A feminine laugh bubbled from his throat,  he clasped his hands together, bangles clanking in a sick harmony, a childlike grin spread on his pale face, “she’ll do.” 

You remember the first night in his chambers. Caracalla himself was bathed in ivory, same as the stone walls that were covered with flowing draperies. Although it was meant to be beautiful, the air felt choked, tight in your chest as you tried like hell to calm your frazzled nerves. 

The same giggle you heard in the throne room all morning now reverberated off the walls. He sat on a chaise lounge in only his dressing robes, sweat dampening his temples, that same damning stare as he slid his tongue over that disgusting gold tooth. Was he nervous? Drunk?

You had thought an emperor of his caliber would be used to this sort of thing. Maybe not. 

You had been cleaned by the palace servants, hair untangled and dirt scrubbed from under your nails. Hints of jasmine and honey perfumed from your gown as you tiptoed toward him. You watched as beads of sweat trickled down his brow, and he wiped at them hastily. 

“Sit.” 

The singular word seemed to give him trouble, as if he had never been in the presence of a woman before. 

He was clumsy, unthreading your gown with clammy hands, dragging across your skin like a damp sponge. Your skin crawled under his touch. 

His lips were stained with wine, thin and shriveled as he pecked at your skin. When you reached for him, hurrying this task along, he recoiled from your hand, shaking his head, a pained expression on his face as he held your wrist in a death grip. 

His eyes squinted shut and he screamed for you to leave. “Out!” “Get out!” Chalices and gold cutlery were tossed in your direction as you sprang for the door. 

Throwing open the heavy wood and running smack into the bare chest of the other Emperor. Emperor Geta. 

Although younger, he was taller than Caracalla. His chest was more broad, shoulders stretched tight with muscles. The same death-like stare on his face as he shoved you from him, having you stumble onto the stones into a wall. The cords of his neck strained as he took in your appearance.

He didn’t soften his features as you peered up at him with a fear stricken expression. He snarled, flaring his nostrils at the pathetic look of you, practically in rags. 

“Ah, and what do we have here? My brother’s whore in tears outside his chamber door. Can’t say I'm the least bit surprised.” He leaned into you, his eyes burning into your skin as he ripped the last of your gown to the floor, leaving you naked before him. 

“Tasteful thing, aren't you?” he gloated, pinching your bare nipple between his thumb and forefinger, laughing when you yelped in surprise and tried to cover your decency. 

He crowded into you, pushing your further down the hall way until you reached a dead end, his groin pressed into your middle. 

“Pathetic.” he sneered, enunciating every syllable the word held.  “Every single one of you.” His voice slithered like a snake against your ear, his breathing was forced, almost erratic and strained like he was holding himself back from bashing your skull into the wall. 

“Brought in here like some glorious stuffed hog on a spicket, trying to impress the Emperors so your village would be overlooked..” he clicked his tongue and grabbed the nape of your neck, his mouth only an inch from your own, “I don’t miss anything. Even though my sniffling brother may, I do not.” 

“Emperor, please.” 

“Do not speak!” he shouted loud enough to wake the entire palace, the veins in his neck stood at attention, throbbing,  “a whore will never open her mouth to me unless asked, or you are given something to fill it— understood?” 

You nodded feebly, a single tear trickling down your cheek. Geta placed the tip of his tongue to your skin catching the salty wetness, “if you can not please my brother, you will please me… otherwise what good are you here?” 

He shoved you to your knees, bits of sand biting into your skin as you hit the ground with a thud. His eyes were ablaze as he pulled out his cock. Veiny and impossibly thick, you’d never imagined one to be so large.  

Geta stroked himself, already hard and velvet beneath his palm, “open for your Emperor,” he demanded, the same snarl on his lip you noticed earlier today. 

You did as you were told, tongue out mouth agape waiting for him to slide against your mouth. Forcing himself inside, he filled it full until the pink head slithered into your throat, his groans vibrating through your bones. 

He rocked his hips into your face, panting and groaning some more as you gagged on his length— spit dripping down your bare chest and down his sack. 

He spoke nonsense to himself as you tried to breathe, squinting out tears from your eyes as you peered up at him. “The virgin mouth is fuck, yes, too good… impossibly sweet, untouched by another man, fuck, never get enough.” 

His large fist gripped your hair, pulling at the root as he bludgeoned himself further into you, fucking your head into the wall surely to leave a bruise or knock you unconscious, he wouldn’t care either way. 

“Stupid sniffling Caracalla,” he choked out between thrusts, “incompetent bastard wouldn’t know what to do with a whore if one fell on his cock,” he laughed and scrubbed at his face, reaching with his free hand to press the column of your throat, feeling himself deep beneath his thumb, “lucky for you, I do.” 

He came then, loud and shaky, holding you to him until your nose was tickled by his patch of dark pubic hair. He pulled out, leaving a pearl against his slit to rub against your mouth. 

“You might belong to Caracalla, but you will bow to me, and you… my sweet rosa, I have plans for you.” 

And that was how it started, how every night you would meet with Caracalla only to be summoned by Geta in the corridor upon your dismissal. Spilling secrets of his brother before pleasuring him with your mouth. 

In the light of day, you were ignored by him as you catered to Caracalla’s beck and call, and you often wondered if Geta had another servant he preferred during the sunlight hours. 

You were a midnight affair, a servant to one Emperor, a secret to the other. Caracalla was a strange man. Your time with him mostly was spent with him whining about the day's woes. 

How hard it was to be an emperor, the many expectations he had, the palace wasn’t large enough, his brother was too mean. Night by night his paranoia spread like wildfire, and he became gaunt, refusing to eat thinking Geta poisoned his food, his cheeks began to hallow. 

During all those nights he never once gave in to his own sexual temptations, he laid his head in your lap like an infant, whimpering and sniveling. One particular warm night you were sitting on his bed as you did every night before, listening to him sob about his mother and how he felt her attention was elsewhere. 

It took a single second of you being unresponsive for his switch to flip. Caracalla raged, flipping over furniture, ripping his draperies from the walls and pulling at his own hair. You were terrified, scared of him for the first time since the night you came to the palace. 

Caracalla bound your wrists above your head, and took force between your legs as you silently let him, disassociating from the entire situation, as he kissed a bruise to your collarbone, and scratched your thighs with his bitten fingernails. His inexperience was evident in his approach, in the way his hips held no rhythm, in the way he screeched like a midnight owl when he was close to release. 

He repeated the same thing over and over until he spilled against your stomach, a plea to either himself or to the Gods above, I am worthy. 

You shook violently, not with pleasure but with fear. You had thought of spitting in his face, but realized death would be your only future if you were to humiliate him during this catastrophic performance of what he would assume to be lust. 

Caracalla finished with a sweaty brow, laying down to fall asleep like a babe, an arm wrapped around your middle. A gaudy rouge colored his pale cheeks as drool slipped from his lips. 

You felt sick, defiled and disgusting. 

You’d rather be fucked by thirty men at once than have to endure that pathetic, cry baby fit from Caracalla. Gently placing his arm on the pillow, you fled. 

Missing your village, your family, the man who you were supposed to marry someday, your tears clouded your vision down the winding corridors of the palace. You would have fought to stay behind, should have pleaded to the men that you could be useful to them. This whore’s life isn’t what you had bargained for, death would be swifter— easier than this. 

The sweet scent of the balneum made you take a detour to the right, and you sobbed upon seeing the moonlight glint across the soft bathing water. 

Desperate to scrub his filth from your skin, the water was barely warm but you couldn’t care less as you sunk deep into the marble stone basin. Scrubbing your skin with anything your fingers could get ahold of. The jasmine soaps the servants washed you with the first time was tucked into its cradle and you slathered until your skin shined like an apparition. 

Tears dropped from the apples of your cheeks hitting the massive pool like a rainstorm over the ocean. Caracalla was a coward, a nuisance to Rome, to the Gods themselves. You damned his name as you scrubbed and lathered, repeating feverishly. 

For how long Geta stood in the doorway, you weren’t sure. You weren’t where you should have been, and he was irate upon your absolute disrespect of his time. He wanted to shout, plunge his way into the water and drag you out by your hair, bring you to the coliseum and make everyone watch your death against whatever animal he saw fit. 

You broke his rules, his laws, his heart raced with anger at the sight of you casually washing yourself. Nobody in the palace bathed in the moonlight, and when he heard commotion from the tepidarium room, he stomped towards it to find whoever the culprit was idiotic enough to disobey. He was alarmed to find you in there. Frantic, shooken up, no doubt from the hands of his flaccid brother.

“The lamb strayed away from the flock, I see.” his voice was like a snake, cool and calm but dripping with acidity that could kill at any given time. Jumping at his voice you nearly shrieked at his sudden appearance. 

“The moon has passed the mountains, yet you do not seek me out? Instead I find you here, helping yourself to the royal bathing quarters, as if you deserve such luxuries.”

Your voice trembled, as you climbed from the water, “I wanted… I needed to be clean.” 

His eyebrows twisted inward, confusion riddling his features until he stepped further into the room and noticed the marks across your skin. Caracalla’s mark. The marks of an hungry, untrained runt, trying to prove himself to the litter. 

Geta’s face boiled with sadistic rage as his eyes scanned down your body, the scratches of an novice beast unable to pleasure a whore. Bruises from a limp man who deserved a knife to his throat.

“Come.” he demanded, not waiting for you to follow as his stalked from the room, tossing a long cloth behind him to your awaiting hands. 

—

Water trickled behind you and down the length of your body as you padded on bare feet to catch up with Geta. 

This part of the palace was foreign to you, a set of stairs leading to a dark tower that you didn’t know existed, and then you realized why. He was leading you up to his chambers.

Geta and Caracalla lived on opposite ends of the palace, their hatred splitting them apart as far as it could allow. 

He thrust open a concealed door and stomped down a few stone stairs leading into his chamber. 

It was decorated in hues of deep ruby and scarlets, black linens flanked his walls. His bed was massive, alluring in the dark majesty of its presence. A single candle flickered beside his bed, casting shadows in the deep night. 

His hooded eyes seemed to strike with a ripple of psychotic light when he came back to the doorway to pull you inside by your wrist. 

Sitting on a lavish wooden chair he leans back, spreading his legs wide, reaching for a wine filled chalice downing it in one gulp, his eyes never leaving you. 

“Let me make myself clear,” he stated, “I do not care what Caracalla does in his chambers I never have nor will I now.” 

Geta wiped at his chin and set down the glass, his finger rounding the rim, “You came here knowing what your life would hold as an Emperor’s servant or a soldier’s fuck sack. The little amount of freedom you were once born with has vanished, and what a pity that must be…but quite honestly,” he gleamed leaning forward his face warmed by the light, casting shadows of evil on his brows, “I am not a savior to the fucked raw whores of this palace who weep after fulfilling their master’s needs.”

Your eyes casted downward at the patterned marble floor. “I told you the night we met that if you aren’t pleasing my brother or myself, you have no purpose here, did I not?” 

Your head shook up and down, knowing every word he said was true. 

“I will grant you gratitude where it is due by saying that you have done everything I have asked of you, sharing my brother’s secrets, using your mouth to fill my needs— it is all very pleasing…”

For the first time you look into Geta’s eyes, the shadows inside flicker with the candle light, and you are drawn to them like a moth. 

“… however, I find myself enraged thinking of that shriveled weasel dick not taking you to bed in a proper manner. It is not my style to fuck like a lover would—I use women to my needs and that’s it.” 

He rubs his jaw, as if the stubble was itching him, suddenly stopping to look at you dead in the eyes as his narrowed to slits, “but you, are a gnat. An annoyance I can not seem to get rid of, and I can’t decide if you are a woman version of the plague or something else…” His eyes glimmer for a second before he shakes his head to clear his mind, “Get on the bed.” 

“Emperor?” 

His voice boomed as he slammed down his cup, “do not make me say it twice, I find myself to be quite angry when I have to repeat my words.” His throat pulsed in wrath, and his knuckles turned white from his fists being clenched. 

You do as you're told, gingerly making your way to the enormous frame and mattress, sitting rigidly. Geta undresses himself, standing bare before you, that glorious length springing freely. 

“The difference between Caracalla and myself, is I know how to use my God bless-ed cock to pleasure a woman, and I’m damn good at it.” 

He’s on you in a flash, his breath sweet from the wine he had consumed. His body was solid on top of yours, pale skin never exposed to the sun. Enormous shoulders dressed in muscles that were hidden with robes daily. He sniffs loud, taking in your scent you feel his body shiver above you. 

His teeth nip at your earlobe, piercing through the flesh releasing a trail of hot blood onto your neck. It’s swiftly lapped away by his tongue, a low groan following as he tastes you. 

“If your blood is this sweet I would hate to know how you taste between your legs.” 

You squirm beneath him as he bites your lip the same way, his canines piercing your plushy flesh and he moves his mouth over the bites, enjoying the iron-like taste. A flood of wetness rushes to your core and you suddenly feel hot everywhere… something Geta doesn’t miss. 

“My brother’s whore is quick to becoming wet.” he says with a chuckle, sweeping his fingers between your folds, his rings collecting your arousal on his knuckles before he pulls them into his mouth,  “mmmm leave it to Caracalla to fuck a bitch when she’s drier than a well.” 

His mouth assaults your neck. Sweeping circling as he groans into you, his cock rutting against your sex as you pull him further into you, a hand coiled in his golden hair, yanking slightly, a traitorous moan escaping his lips. 

Your hips widen to try to sneak the tip of him into your cunt but he only laughs at your attempt.

“Look how desperate you are, pathetic thing… so eager to be filled by a man who knows how to fuck.” He groans when your nails scratch down his back, and he licks his lip to not get too carried away. 

That pitiful excuse for a human couldn’t satisfy his own hand, let alone a whore who begs to be brutalized.” You moan his name when he skims blunt nails around the peaks of your nipples, running his palms along your rib cage. 

“You're teasing me, Emperor, te necessito.” 

The snarl that seems to be a permanent fixture on his face curls on his lip, “begging is a good start, we both know how good you are on your knees, but I like the pity showing in your eyes, as if I’m your God.”

With that final word and title, Geta thrust himself into you, shredding your walls with each delicious inch of his cock buried inside of you. All breath is expunged from your lungs as you stare into the devil’s eyes, a chokehold to your own.

“Ora pro me, Deus meus, pray for me God,” he grunted as he pistoned back into your heat. Your screams filled his chambers, the tower shaking with seduction as he matched your shouts with grunts and moans of his own. 

He pawed at your tits, squeezing and claiming every inch of skin he could get his hands on. Your thighs were wrapped around his waist, your hips circling to meet his rhythms. A large hand wrapped tight around your throat, and you licked your lips letting a grin spread against them. 

Geta was leaned forward just enough for you to put a hand against his own throat, squeezing as tightly as you could. He wasn’t expecting this, wasn’t expecting someone to match his own sadistic fantasies.. let alone a commoner from a village he didn’t care to know the name of. 

His eyes embellished like a dark jewel in a burning hell before he snarled and backhanded your cheek. He had never been more turned on, practically fucking you stupid as the welts from his rings raised on your skin. 

“Puella pulchra, pretty girl,” Geta whispered into your ear after flipping you over, his cock wedged between your ass cheeks. “Mea es, mea es, you’re mine;  no one else’s.” 

His rings bit at your sides as he positioned your ass upwards, leaving his dental records in each cheek before slapping them hard in unison, mocking your yelp as he dribbled spit where he needed it to be. 

With no warning he entered your other hole at a bruising pace. You saw black when Geta bottomed out and you swore you were near passing out from the stretch of his giant cock stuffed tight inside of you. 

Your pussy throbbed to his commands as he pulled you by your neck with one hand, so your back was leaned against his chest. Thick fingers slotted themselves in the heat of your core until his rings were nestled against your clit. “How dare you let Caracalla have at you first, this cunt is too sweet, too sinful to not be mine.” 

Babbling along to everything he said you simply screamed yes over and over, as your head lolled back on his shoulder. You came so hot and bound tight that it flooded his fingers and spread down your legs as he kept pounding inside of you. 

“Oh fuck,” Geta grunted, shoving your forward to gain leverage on your hips as he pistoned into you a final time. A great yell breached his throat as his seed flooded your ass, filling it full and spilling over both himself and you, down to the laundered sheets. 

You collapsed onto his bed, legs shaking and quaking struggling to catch your breath. Geta fell onto his back beside you, his skin glistening with sweat, his release coated thickly on his softening cock and pasted into the curly hair. 

“Dulcis ut rosa,” he murmured with his eyes closed, licking his lips to savor your taste once more. 

Tumbling on shaky knees, you lift yourself up just enough to eye his length, wrapping your mouth around his cock, sucking off his spend and yourself from him. Moaning as you devoured him.  

He hissed at the contact, reaching out to stroke your cheek with his thumb “you’ve made a fool of me, you wicked thing, I’m nothing but a fool.” 

When you were finished, Geta laid in silence beside you. His thumb strumming along his torso his eyes wide staring into the ceiling, deep in thought. 

Noticing a decanter of wine you asked if he’d like another glass. “No,” he said, still staring upward, unable to look at you. “I’m tired, leave me now.” 

Removing yourself from the bed you find the dressing robe he was wearing when he found you in the bath and slipped it over your shoulders. 

Leaving his chambers left you feeling rotten. 

It was strange how he looked at you during and after, he was talented just as he said he was, and you knew you’d never forget the night the other Emperor bed you in his sheets. For tomorrow was another day, back to Caracalla and his blubbering whines of the hardships of royalty.

Geta lie awake for hours. Eventually seeking refuge on his balcony staring into the pale ivory moon, silently asking the Gods for answers he himself didn’t know. He had bedded hundreds of women. Every shape, size and color. But you. The little gnat. You had been buzzing in his ears every night since you had gotten to Palatine Hill. 

Since the day he laid his eyes on you and scoffed to try to denounce his admiration, Geta silently wished death on Caracalla when he claimed you as his own. His original plan was to spoil the apple from the inside out, use you as a spy to gain information about his deranged brother— but it became more to him, you became more. But why? 

The God’s didn’t have the answers tonight, just like they hadn’t the night before, or every dawn since the night you showed up here. Guilt struck him like a bolt from Jupiter’s mighty hand and he pushed it down with the remaining wine he had stashed beside his bed. 

The facaded mask he wore these days almost slipped off tonight when you lay beside him. How he wanted to reach out and touch your skin while you laid in euphoric bliss. And he shut you out to avoid something he couldn’t risk. He didn’t know how to love a woman, his love was for war and power, blood and gold— still the gnat buzzed, unrelentless. 

Laying in the sex sodden sheets, he knew what his dream would be of tonight. It hadn’t changed in the months of you arriving here: Caracalla dead by his hand, and you, the gnat, sweet as a rose…his empress.

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

latin translation:

virgines— virgins

dulcis ut rosa— sweet as a rose

balneum— bathing room

te necessito— i need you

ora pro me deus meus— pray for me my God

puella pulchra— pretty girl

mea es— you’re mine

tagging some moots: @joejoequinnquinn @choke-me-eddie @etherealxwitch