#imagine lying down and sinking into them...
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wrencatte · 2 days ago
Note
12. BodeCal
...in grief
– and Bode bears down on Cal, red blade burning between them, the Force a pressure so intense he can feel it in his chest. Can feel it tighten around his lungs, squeezing out all the air, but he grits his teeth and carves his way through the heat, slices neatly in two the strength of Cal’s push. A noise builds up. A keen. A shout. A plead. He can’t tell who it comes from – one last desperate attempt to make Cal listen please or Cal begging him to stop, to make another sacrifice that he can’t afford to make – He doesn’t know. A ringing in his ears drowns it all out. Blood rushing. The Force screaming.
Bode growls and shoves. His blade breaks through the last of it, sinking into Cal’s chest with an awful sound of sizzling flesh and the smell of burning blood, boiled before it ever gets the chance to spill. Cal’s eyes meet his, wide and glimmering with tears. Shocked. Betrayed. Pleasewhyhowcould…
Dying.
His hands tighten around Bode’s wrists, just ever-so-briefly, before going limp, sliding off to hit the ground lifelessly. Bode stays bowed over him, heaving for breath, adrenaline fading to leave him feeling – Numb. Hollowed out. Horrified.
Tears slide down Cal’s temples, pooling in his ears. He chokes, and there’s the blood, speckling his chin as it fills his lungs. Bode exhales shakily, turns the blade off. The hilt clatters to the ground as he falls forward, bracing himself with a palm on the ground near Cal’s head. The Force swirls, rising up all around them in a hurricane of emotions that
peak –
then slowly start to fade.
Just like the light is fading from Cal’s eyes.
Bode watches the whole time. He can’t stop himself from reaching up and cradling Cal’s face with his free hand, thumb brushing tenderly over his cheek. Cal’s lips part, his exhale soft and sad, and Bode leans in, presses a kiss to his mouth that’s too late. Far too late.
Their first and last kiss. It tastes like blood and tears and regrets.
He hopes – and what a useless, awful thing hope is, but he hopes all the same that maybe this is what Cal will take into the Force with him. Instead of his last memory being the pain of his friend driving a red blade through his heart, maybe it will be this: A kiss. Their could-have-been. Something not terrible. Something nice even. A gentle hand on his cheek, the warmth of another person leaning over him, and a kiss that could’ve been love, could’ve been everything they ever wanted – but is instead filled with a terrible, mounting grief.
He lets the kiss linger. Lets Cal feel Bode’s own tears fall free. Lets him know that Bode is already mourning him. Is already wondering whywhywhy wouldn’t you listen…
whywhywhy couldn’t I say–
Bode closes his eyes, imagines, pretends, falls into this dream he’s built for himself and Cal.
And he knows, knows, knows that – a dream is all it is. Cal was gone before their lips even touched.
But that’s okay. Bode’s always been good at lying to himself.  
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biggerbagingos · 17 days ago
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room filling thighs that are so soft and pillowy it feels like you're fondling clouds...
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rainrot4me · 6 months ago
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Return The Favor
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Summary: Stumbling in on your neighbor’s chopped up body, an unlikely friendship forms between you and Toby. Striking a deal, you agree to help the killer and his friends, buying them necessary prescriptions. But when one visit turns to multiple, Toby becomes curious, finding a not so subtle love note hidden away.
Characters: Ticci Toby x Female Reader
SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI
TW: Mentions of death, explicit description of a dismembered body, decomposition, death, gore, obsession, vomit, throwing up, blood (non-sexual), blood (sexual), vaginal fingering, degradation, biting, overstimulation, squirting, creampie, vaginal, choking, gagging, somnophilia, rough, Toby literally goes insane about you, virginity kink, first time, desperation
Words: 9.4k
A/N: This shit long asl I'm so sorry... Characters in this story are not canonical!
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It’s said that when there’s a dead body nearby, your body can sense it before your brain can. 
It’s almost like instinct, a survival nature programmed into your brain. It’ll start with goosebumps and chills running all over your body as if you were being watched, this uncomfortable sensation that you just can’t rationalize. Then the anxiety sets in, body aching and sweating for no apparent reason but it just knows there’s something wrong. 
Finally, when you’ve finally choked it up to just being your imagination, that’s when you’ll smell it. Throat instantly closing and nostrils flaring at the putrid stench of rot and gore. It’s incomparable, no amount of food poisoning or disease compares to the sickness you feel in your stomach at the smell of a human body decomposing. Every instinct in your body pleading and begging you to get out of there, run as far away until you can’t breathe anymore. 
You would know. And it seemed like the boy huddled in front of you did too. 
There was no real reason for you to even be in this house in the first place, but your all-too-good heart guilted you into it. You had just come home from work, mind tired and body sleepy as you unlocked your front door, tossing your bag onto the kitchen table inside. It was well past midnight, the diner you worked at closing way later than normal, but at least you made some good tips. 
Sliding into your bedroom, you changed into more comfortable clothes, tying your hair back before stepping into your kitchen. You gripped the tiny journal lying on the counter, cracking the worn pages open to where you left off, scribbling your thoughts onto the paper. It was your nightly routine, journaling things you saw or did, a coping mechanism suggested by your therapist. It wasn’t for anything intensive, just minor anxiety and self-image problems, always having negative thoughts about yourself. It helped. Glancing up, you looked through the tiny window above your sink, a clear view of your neighbor’s back porch, Mr. Higgs, an older man who made it very difficult to be friendly. He was a hateful guy, always nitpicking your choice of decorations or specific outfits he didn’t find appropriate. A real sweetheart, obviously. 
But compared to his usual eight PM lights out, the living room lamp was still bright, shining directly through his open back porch door. That was odd. As long as you had known this guy, it wasn’t like him to be up this late, let alone be outside. Every instinct told you to just clean up and go to bed, his angry ass probably scooting off a raccoon or something. But you just couldn’t pass up that nagging feeling, your kindheartedness overpowering you. So, sighing, you tossed a hoodie on and slid out your back door, stepping down the porch steps into the cool grass.
You flinched as a flash of brown passed your vision, small and thin against the dark grass. Cooing, you kneeled down, holding your fingers out as Mr. Higg’s old cat, Addy, sniffed the air around you, pressing against your bare legs as she purred. The man was way too protective of his cat. Something was definitely wrong.
Standing again, Addy pranced away, meowing loudly behind you as your bare feet became wet against the midnight dew, grass sticking to your ankles as you walked, arms hugging yourself against the cold. This would probably just end with you getting told to mind your business and stomping back to bed upset, but it was the thought that counted. Gripping onto the porch rail, you stepped up his creaky wooden porch, knocking against the wooden frame of the open door.
“Mr. Higgs? Everything alright?” You called into the room, refusing to go in. There was no response, you knocked again after a couple of seconds. Still nothing. You gulped, rubbing your arms against your sides, nerves wracking you. “Okay. I’m coming in. Don’t get mad 'cause you didn’t answer me.” You called again, pressing past the door and wiping your wet feet on the welcome mat. 
The house was quiet, the only light being the lamp sat on a coffee table adjacent to the old couch. All the furniture had an older look like something out of the eighties, it made you cringe. “Mr. Higgs, are you home?” You shouted down the dark hallway, all the doors shut except for one at the end which you assumed to be his room. Hugging yourself, your legs felt anxious, your mind racing with all the reasons you shouldn’t walk down there. There was no reason for it, this was all just probably some old guy who forgot to shut his door, but you just couldn’t shake the feeling.
Taking a step down the hallway, that’s when it started. Those feelings, like your body can feel shouldn’t be there. The air suddenly grew thick, a nauseating feeling setting in against your chest, pressing down like a conscious weight. But you shook it off, telling yourself it was just you scaring yourself with all of those crime shows, but you should’ve known better.
The door was cracked, moonlight from the open shades pressing against the doorframe, your hand flat against the wood as you pushed the door open. Then came the smell. It was stout, a putrid funk that wafted against the walls, souring the room. The room was dark, pupils blown wide as they fought to see, hand sliding against the wall and searching for a light switch. Your body was tense, senses on high alert against the dark, breathing ragged against the awful stench filling your senses. Your eyes were beginning to water, wondering what in the hell could be stinking this terribly, until you felt the switch, flipping it on.
Your first instinct was to throw up, throat constricting and stomach tightening, but you just couldn’t move. You were petrified by the scene in front of you. Mr. Higgs was there, at least, what you could recognize of him. His head had been cleaved from his body, intensive amounts of blood staining his beige bedsheets. His cheeks were bloated, a gnarly purple color as his veins poked against his forehead, skin wrinkled and soaked in blood as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. They were yellow now, dark veins contrasting against the orbs as puss leaked from every hole on his expressionless face. The rest of his body was scattered, chunks of muscle shredded from his arms and hands like they had been cut off, legs more or less the same. His wide stomach was completely visible, his skin swollen and dark, bloated against the same liquids spilling from his pores. The blood was the worst part. It was just everywhere. Splattered on the sheets, the nightstand, even the walls, specks reaching the roof. You were so lost in your racing thoughts, your heart pounding heavily against your chest as you gripped the door tightly, knuckles white on the frame. You could feel the cold sweat drip down your brow, utter fear chilling your body. 
You wouldn’t have even noticed the tall boy standing in the corner if he hadn’t flinched, eyes wide and locked on you. He was lanky, easily taller than you and pale. No, not pale, more gray. He had curly brown hair that fell in front of his eyes, his freckled cheeks flushed against the bandages across his jaw. A pair of goggles rested amongst his curls, a dark mask covering his nose and mouth. He wore dark wash jeans loose around his hips and a heavier brown hoodie that was stained with dark blood. Oh God. The boy didn’t look much older than you despite his bruise battered skin. But he wasn’t moving, wasn’t talking, he was just watching. 
His hands were behind his back, shoulders scrunched against the corner of the dark walls as you pressed back off the door frame, breathing ragged. “Who the hell are you?” You grimaced, tone coming across a lot more confident than you felt. The boy flinched, not out of fear, more like a bodily reaction. He refused to answer, eyes scanning around quickly until he pressed off the wall, sliding to the shuttered window and pinching the blinds open, scanning the night without explanation. That’s when you heard loud boots stepping up the porch steps, head spinning quickly down the hallway. “Shit.” You heard him, the boy’s voice panicked and rough, his boots stepping quickly across the hardwood and into your vicinity. Panic strained you, head spinning back quickly before your vision was filled with his arms wrapping around you, palm slapping over your mouth as he pressed you to his chest. 
You tried to fight back, mumbled pleas against his hand as you shouldered his arms, your back pressed firmly against him. He was dragging you into the room, your feet dragging as you struggled, clawing his arms away but he never budged, practically unaware of the scratches you were leaving on his hands. “F- Fuckin’ quit-” He growled quietly, pressing open the small closet doors and dragging you both in, quickly shutting the door as you heard the boots grow louder down the hallway. A sliver of light shone through the crack in the door, leaving you just enough room to see the gorey scene as you pressed off of him, his muscled arms refusing to let you go.
“Toby?” A scratchy voice called into the room, the figure stepping through the door frame and into your line of sight. At his appearance, you froze completely, your body tense against the boy behind you. His arms gripped tighter, bandaged fingers digging into your cheek as he kept you quiet. He was horrifying. 
This man was taller than the one in the closet with you, pasty skin a sharp contrast against his dark messy hair. His eyes were wide, pupils dark against his reddened scleras. He wore a white hoodie, dark jeans covered just the same with Mr. Higg’s blood. But the worst part, the part that made your heart pump in your throat, was his smile. It was etched in, flesh torn upwards into a mocked smile, teeth exposed from the side of his cheek. The area was mangled, seemingly unhealed as blood dried against the cut. He almost made Mr. Higgs seem not that bad.
“Twitch, come on,” He called again, hands shoved in his hoodie pocket as he strolled around the room, kicking Mr. Higg’s severed foot out of the way. “I’m gettin’ tired. This guy had some good beers and I’m tryna get back home and drink ‘em.” He snickered, turning back out of the room and back down the hallway, his loud boots stomping against the old floors. Who you presumed to be Toby didn’t let you go, arms just as tight around you as you gripping his hoodie’s sleeves tight. “Fine then! If you’re gonna play fuckin’ hide and seek then I’m leavin’ your ass here!” He called throughout the house, your body only untensing when you heard the back porch door slam shut, loud boots thunking down the porch and out of earshot. 
You both waited a couple of seconds, heart thudding in your ears as arms slowly released you, palm unclasping from your mouth. Panicked, you slammed out of the closet, turning around quickly and facing Toby, back pressed against the nearest wall as you searched for something to defend yourself with. “D- Dumbass.” He grit, pressing out of the cramped closet and facing you, tugging at the sleeves of his hoodie. The stench of the room pressed harder than ever, making your head dizzy as you pressed out of the room and down the hallway, Toby quick on your heels. “Whoever the fuck you are, whatever the fuck you want, I’m sure Mr. Higgs didn’t have it. Why in God’s name is he in pieces in his bedroom?” You hissed, gagging as the image replayed in your mind, turning into his kitchen and wracking the cupboards. When you found a small plastic cup, you ran water in through the sink, chugging the stout liquid down as you calmed your breathing. Toby stayed in the doorframe, crossing his arms. You probably shouldn’t have let your guard down, knowing full and well what he had just down to your neighbor, but you figured if he was going to he would have already.
“It’s none of y- your business. I don’t k- kill innocents, so you s- shoulda just stayed home, m- missy.” He growled back, stuttering through the words. You tossed the cup in the sink, the plastic clattering against the metal as you turned to face him, running your hands through your hair. “Hard to when you guys so obviously left his door open. The bastards hounded me for years, you’d think I’d be happy about his death, but not fucking like that.” You hissed, leaning back against the counter and crossing your arms, bare feet cold against the porcelain tiles. “I mean, Jesus. And I mean, thanks and all for the save back there, but how is killing him and saving me any different? It’s just favoring one innocent over another.” Toby shook his head, sliding past you and tugging a drawer open, shovelling through old receipts until he found the stack he was searching for. He passed it to you, paper crinkling as you skimmed through, old pharmacy receipts for prescription medicine. 
“H- Had the old bastard bu- buying our meds. Paid h- him off and everything. Un- Until he started g- giving us coun- counterfeits, sellin’ u- us out. He h- had to pay u- up somehow…” He huffed, shoving his mask down off of his nose and under his chin, his thin lips chapped against the bandages hugging his cheeks. And of course, he was cute. 
“So he gets shredded?” You had to breathe through that sentence, throat tight with nausea. Toby nodded, a small smirk crooking at the corner of his lips. You grimaced, pressing off of the counter and through to the living room, the old furniture seeming a lot less homey now. You were going home, filing a police report, and praying to God these fuckers didn’t come back to get you instead. 
“U- Uh, might wa- wanna clean up, t- too,” Toby chuckled from behind you. You paused, confused as you looked around, stomach twisting as you looked down. Bloody footprints trekked through the kitchen behind you, a trail leading to your bare feet as you lift your knee, gagging at the sight of Mr. Higg’s blood coating your soles. Toby was laughing, the noise muffled against the ringing in your ears as you hunched over, stomach convulsing as you puked on the hardwood floors, your lunch from work coming back up. Head straining, you panted, wiping your lips. “Oh, s- shit, okay.” Toby hissed, sliding to your side and raising you up, hugging you close to his side. He drug you through the door, stomach still churning as you watched your footprints faintly appear beneath you, purposefully dragging them through the grass to get the blood off. You felt disgusting, giving no fight as Toby brought you to your porch steps, helping you up. He was so bipolar, angry and distasteful for one second, then cautious and endearing the next. It really was like you were dealing with a teenager. 
Addy circled your ankles, her dense fur tickling your skin and making you jump, Toby gripping your arms tighter. “Oh, hi kitty.” You cooed, breathing deep as you kneeled down, scooping her up into your arms as Toby helped you up the rest of the steps. Without asking, he slid open your screen door, helping you both inside as Addy purred against your chest, Toby wary as he stared at her. You dropped her on the floor gently, Toby sliding the door shut as you hunched over your sink, cleaning your mouth and grabbing a rag for your feet. Toby still eyed Addy, fidgeting his nails as he followed her. “Ever seen a cat before? She was Mr. Higg’s.” You chuckled, cleaning the soles of your feet off and tossing the rag into the sink, still feeling unclean. Toby nodded, rubbing his arms nervously as he looked back at you, smiling awkwardly. “Yeah. Us- Used to have one. T- They kinda sc- scare me now.” Smiling, you scooped Addy up again, petting her soft fur as you brought her close to the boy, his neck twitching nervously. 
How could this guy shred a man to pieces, but petting a cat was too frightening for him? You couldn’t understand. Digressing, you gripped his wrist, steadying the twitches as you placed his hand on her back, rubbing gently as Toby flinched, breathing quickly. Addy purred, unbothered by the action as he became more comfortable, fingers playing with her fur before he pulled his hand back, breathing deep.
You were too nice for your own good, too easy at giving the benefit of the doubt. Of course, you would find the redeemable traits in a murderer, heart hurting for this boy who was more or less the same as you. Groaning, you dropped Addy, crossing your arms. “Listen. What you did, it’s… For my own conscience, I can’t let it happen again.” You grit, circling your countertop and sitting on a stool, your journal tucked in front of you as you fidgeted with the pages. “If we can agree, I’ll buy your meds. I have a friend who can write me prescriptions, no questions asked. But I need you to understand, under no circumstances, are you allowed to harm me. I’ll call the cops.” Like the cops could stop these lunatics. But, you needed some type of leverage. 
Toby thought quietly, eyes narrowed as he flinched uncomfortably against Addy rubbing on his shins, purring loudly. If you could hold your end, there would be no trouble, but he had to know he could rely on you. “Th- The meds aren’t for m- me. My f- friends, they need ‘em to function, m- mentally… You g- gotta realize this is- is serious.” Even stuttering his voice was stern, arms crossed as he thought, contemplating. You nodded, brushing your hair from your face as you groaned, realizing how desperately you needed to learn to set boundaries. “I can get them. But you have to keep your end, too.” You hissed back, pinching your fingers nervously. Toby smiled, crossing his heart, literally. Rolling your eyes, you nodded, rubbing your face as you groaned. What the fuck were you even doing? 
“I’ll have them by the end of the week. Come later at night, cops’ll be swarming for weeks thanks to you.” Toby nodded, sliding over to the counter and gripping your journal, tearing a page out as he wrote the list of prescriptions you would need to get. It was a hefty list, some of that shit intense. “Abou- About that,” He slid his mask up over his nose, sliding the screen door open as he stepped out, chuckling. “Do- Don’t go outside. Gonna ma- make it look like a g- gas leak.” You could hear the smile in his voice as he shut the screen, sliding his hood over his head and peeling down the porch steps. Finally taking a deep breath, you stared at Addy, wondering what in the absolute fuck you were doing. Rest in hell, Mr. Higgs.
-
He made it look like a gas leak alright. The house was on fire in minutes, the bright orange flames lighting your room as you heard sirens in the distance, your other neighbors gathered outside their houses as you climbed into bed, groaning your displeasure. Cops and firefighters swarmed for days afterwards, investigating the area thoroughly, but never finding any remains of Mr. Higgs, his body buried somewhere far away. They eventually grew restless, the city quickly cleaned up the charred remains of the house and a new plan for construction was set in soon. It went over smoothly, no one even suspecting a thing. 
The days passed slowly, nervousness building as the end of the week grew closer, feet shuffling as you stood in line at the pharmacy. You got the doctor’s notes easily, already called in and waiting to be picked up as you were handed a small paper bag, the pharmacist eyeing you closely as you hurried out. Once in your car, you rummaged the sack, eyes wide as you read the dosage instructions on each little pill bottle. You read each bottle carefully, cringing at the names of the contents: Thorazine, Prolixin, Haldol, and even Aripiprazole. They were all high-end antipsychotics, the list of treatments for schizophrenia and mania, along with treatment-resistant depression. The last bottle caught your eye, a quick Google search told you it was for tourette's. So his twitching wasn’t just nervousness, huh. Shoveling the sack into your bag, you sped home, Toby well on his way as the sun set low.
The first week was easy, Toby in and out without so much as a hello, nodding his thanks as he bolted back into the woods, eyes dark and heavy. It was easy for you, moving along with your life despite the one night of the week. You felt easier, the boy quick about his stops with some chat, but never hanging around for too long, eyes always scanning the tree line nervously. 
As weeks passed, he grew more comfortable, you learned that he was quick about stopping due to his friends, their curiosity about you making him nervous about losing his ‘dealer.’ You learned to leave his meds on the counter, sometimes not even present when he would sneak in at the late hours of the night, your job taking precedence over your sleep schedule. But with all of this money being spent weekly on medicine, you had to pick up more time at work, everything being paid for out of pocket not to raise suspicion. You were sleeping more, journaling and your hobbies taking less importance until they were practically nonexistent. It was hard, your serving heart refusing to let you rest, making sure Toby got his medication is the most important thing. You were strained, to say the least. 
However, surprisingly, after a couple of weeks, Toby wasn’t in a hurry to leave. He had slid in like he always did, you sat at the counter eating your dinner as you scribbled through the pages of your notebook, summing up the previous days. You were exhausted, Toby making you jump slightly as he shut the screen door, rummaging through the paper sack. “G- Got any more?” He grinned shyly, sliding his mask and goggles off and tossing them onto the counter. You nodded to the fridge, an extra container of leftovers from the diner quickly opened in front of him as he shoveled it into his mouth. “It’s better heated up,” You laughed, shutting your journal as you slid off the stool, gripping the to-go container from him and popping it into the microwave. You both sat there awkwardly, Toby kneeling down to rub Addy’s back as she appeared beneath him, soft purrs echoing. He was still nervous, never petting her for too long before standing back up, the microwave beeping. The food came out steaming, sliding open a drawer and handing him a fork, Toby continued to shovel the food into his mouth. You hissed, holding his arm as the steaming food sizzled inside his mouth, it had to be burning him. “Oh. Y- Yeah, I don’t fe- feel pain. Th’s good, tho- though.” He grinned, slurping up more of the food. He acted like he hadn’t had warm food in forever, stuffing his face and barely giving himself time to chew. You rolled your eyes, chuckling as he ate.
The stays became longer after that, his excuse being he was hungry, continuously raiding your fridge until you began to have food ready for him, prepping his meals along with your own. Thirty minutes turned to an hour, to two hours, and then eventually through the night. He would crash on your couch, Addy curled in his lap as the television blared some old movie. That was one of the only times you didn’t see him ticcing, the cat acting as an anchor against his restless body. He looked truly comfortable, using your blankets and pillows to his advantage, beginning to invite himself to stay the night after a while. 
You sat at the counter, Toby snoring loudly as he laid face first into the couch pillow, scribbling into your journal. It was the one thing you had time for, having to get up early for work as the soft glow of the kitchen light lit the pages. Toby was practically pushing himself into your life, his lack of manners and curious mannerisms leading him to take initiative. You were grateful for his friendliness, giving great detail of his missions with his friends and explaining that whole situation. Even still, you were wary. 
But against your better judgment, your relationship with the killer was becoming less transactional. He brought you things to make for dinner, talked with you through your mutual sleepiness, and even took care of Addy when you were too delusional after work. For lack of a better word, he was becoming a friend, showing up for more than just his medication, even sometimes forgetting the bag and having to chase him down. He was infesting your life, arriving earlier than he should and leaving later than you cared for. The end of the week was becoming optional, the screen of your porch door sliding open nearly every night of the week Toby didn’t have a mission. It was annoying but in a comforting way, like you both were becoming closer naturally despite your differences. 
As you heard his snores, you groaned, rubbing your tired eyes as you began to write, letting your pencil guide on the page numbly as you wrote your thoughts. It wasn’t directed at Toby on purpose, but the further you got down the page the further your heart sank, hand fisted in your hair as you rested your elbow on the cold marble counter. “Ah, Jesus…” You grit, scribbling the final few words as you lean back, rubbing your head. The words weren’t lies, more of a hard truth you weren’t willing to accept, chalking it up that you were just tired and desperate. The words could have been about Toby, or they could have been about anyone, you didn’t really care. Sighing, you tore the page out, folding it and shoving it into the back of the book, closing the pages quickly. Sleep sounded much easier as you flipped the kitchen light off, turning the volume of the television down as you trudged upstairs to your room, giving one last glance to the snoring boy and his matching cat.
-
Toby knew his mishaps with you, his moral compass long forgotten the more time he spent inside your home. He told himself it was just easier, food and shelter at his disposal whenever, but he knew better. It was so much more than just picking up medicine for Tim and Brian now, it was a solid relationship, a bond that was forming in his eyes. 
It had been almost four months since the unfortunate death of your neighbor, a smile creeping every time he saw the charred flecks of wood buried in the overgrown grass. You had begun to leave the back door unlocked, reasoning that someone breaking and entering would be less of a hassle than him. That was what Toby really hooked onto the most about you, your humor about everything. Despite your hardships and the emotions you had to overcome, you held a caring heart, compassion always lacing every action. He found it admirable, your humor through your busy life. And, likewise, he did feel bad for making you work so much, tired eyes always hurting his heart whenever you were around. But, it wasn’t like he could get a job, so he helped where he could, cleaning and learning to cook for your sake. He needed this medicine, for his friend’s and his own stability, even at your expense.
You were already nestled at your spot on the counter, writing your thoughts in that damn journal. You barely even looked up as he entered, diving for the fridge as he scooped up Addy with one arm, her purs a nice vibration against his shoulder. Popping the container in the microwave, he leaned in over your shoulder, trying to catch a glance at your scribbling before you shoved him off, closing the book quickly. “Ah, ah, mind yours.” You smiled, forking your own food into your mouth. “O- Oh come on, [Y/N], just a pe- peak.” He smiled back, gathering his food as he began to eat, sliding onto his familiar spot on the couch. It was routine now: where you sat, what he watched, what you both talked about. He explained his latest mission with Masky in more detail than you enjoyed, pushing your food away as you groaned, hiding your face in your hands. You both laughed throughout the night before you whisked your food into the fridge, calling your goodnights before heading upstairs. 
Toby continued to watch the television, brushing Addy’s back with his bandaged fingers as he sat his empty container to the side. His curiosity nudging him, he raised up, tossing his trash before he slid to the counter, you all too confidently leaving your journal there. Slipping back onto the couch, he began to flip through the pages, listening closely for your footsteps as he read your entries, smiling as they dated all the way back to your high school years.
It seemed as though everything you thought spilt onto these lines, emotions erratic between every page as he realized just how much of a people pleaser you really were. All through your recent years, it was nothing but service, acting through the goodness of your soul until it felt sickening, fake almost. He cringed, flipping quickly through but finding nothing juicy, no deep dark secrets that he felt were interesting. Sighing, he closed the journal, standing to set it back onto the counter, until a slip of paper fell from between the pages. Smiling, Toby leaned down, arms twitching as he slid the journal back onto the counter, leaning against the marble as he flipped the paper open, reading carefully.
“Sometimes, when I think about it too hard, I get all emotional about myself. I know I put on a front, like everything I do I’m in charge of and can handle, always putting everyone around me first. But what if I wanted to be put first? I do so much for the sake of others but it never seems to be returned, never compensated for the mental strain. Well, maybe I want to. Maybe I want to be loved like I see others, rough and real. I have no clue how I even would, I can barely handle touching myself before I'm overwhelmed. But I just want someone else to take the reins, show me that I don't have to work my brain so hard and can just numb out. That's not too much to ask, right? Just someone who can love me, not some creep or one night thing, someone who cares. If I never ask for anything again, that would be it. Someone who wants me for me.”
He could have died. The brunette’s cheeks dark as he re-read the crumbled page, excitement coursing through him. In his mind, he wanted to storm upstairs and just rattle you then, showing you how good he could treat you. It was like a bomb had gone off, Toby having to pretend like him having a crush on you wasn’t achingly obvious, convincing himself he just didn’t know how to act around women. But now it was clear, his mind racing with a million wants and needs, body spasming under the excitement. 
Convincing himself to leave, he slipped the note into his pocket, body buzzing with excitement as he slid out your door. He would be back, like always. But this time, he would show you what you truly needed, what only he could give you. 
-
Like always, Toby left a note for the medication you needed to pick up, it sometimes changing week to week. Everything looked normal, the usual combination of pills reading off. But as you scanned the bottom, you groaned, shoving the paper into your pocket. Trilafon, Saphris, and… Plan B. As if your desperation for some affection couldn’t have gotten much worse, your heart twisted, a lump growing. Whether it be for some girl he was laying or a girlfriend he already had, you didn’t care, all you wanted was to get the medicine and go. Crawling into your bed sounded like a much more exciting activity than dwelling on the brunette, heart saddened in all the way you knew it shouldn’t. 
To make your night even better, Toby didn’t show. It wasn’t unusual, for him sometimes not to show up for days due to extensive missions. But a part of you longed to see him, especially after today, just to help your mind with the whole morning-after pill situation. So now, instead of imagining him surrounded by his friends on a mission, you imagined him towering over a girl. Strong arms holding her, body contorting to fit against hers… You could’ve been sick, shaking your head as you ate quickly and pressed upstairs, barely petting Addy before you slinked into bed, hauling the covers over your head. 
It was lonely on nights without his presence in your house. But especially tonight, thoughts racing uncontrollably to the point of tears, thick droplets streaking down your face as your chest hurt, longing for a body, any body, to hold close to yours. Maybe you really were just a transactional thing. 
-
Toby smiled as he trekked through the familiar stretch of woods to your house, heart racing in his chest. He had it all planned out, exactly what he wanted to do, his cock already twitching in his jeans. 
He hadn’t shown up tonight on purpose, hanging back at the mansion to take the best shower he could, Ben teasing him about how good he smelled as he was leaving. You had to be well in bed by now, body tired after working all day just for him. He would take care of you, showing just how grateful he was for how much you were giving up just for his friends and him. Pressing past the tree line, he smiled, pulling his hood down as all the lights in your home were out, signaling your retirement. 
Pressing up the steps, he slid the screen door open quietly, careful not to alert you as he clicked it shut. Stripping his hoodie, he tossed it onto the couch, Addy purring light against the cushions. It was warm in your house, black t-shirt hugging his arms as he untucked it from his jeans, climbing up the steps, his mask and goggles quick to come off next. 
He was too excited for his own good, boots stepping quietly against the old hardwood as he slinked to your door, fidgeting with the knob. A rush of your scent blew into his face, your perfume stout in your small bedroom, eyes searching around in the dark space for your bed. It wasn’t hard with your breathing, quiet snores making him smile as he leaned against your mattress, admiring your unawareness. You looked so peaceful, his bandaged fingers tracing your cheeks and brushing your hair from your face, your skin flinching under his touch. “Hi, baby…” He whispered, the pet name sounding right against his tongue as he referred to you, tugging the sheets down. 
Toby always knew how nice of a body you had, you sometimes sauntering around the house with shorts and a t-shirt and making his eyes trail just a little longer than normal. But now, under his cold hands, you were even more gorgeous. You were wearing an oversized shirt, a slight tug at the fabric revealing that you only had panties on underneath, you slightly stirring as his nails brushed your skin. The brunette was excitedly jittering, kicking his boots off as he climbed onto the bed, kneeling at your curled body sound asleep. You shifted, rolling onto your back as you breathed deep, stretching your arms before settling back into yourself. Toby could have died, your legs stretching out to rest around him, his cock twitching with interest against your now visible panties. A quiet sigh breathed through your lips.
That was all the invitation he needed. Running his cold hands under your shirt, he felt your warm skin and goosebumps rising as you squirmed under them. Your brows scrunched but Toby pressed further, running his fingers along your waist and up to your tits, palming the mounds gently as he smiled. It was crazy to him just how soft your skin was, not weathered or bruised from missions or nature, perfectly smooth under his axe-calloused hands. Pushing your shirt up to your chest, he gasped at your round tits, the weight so perfect in his hands as he pinched at your nipples, rubbing the nubs gently. Toby was never very sure of anything, always brushing through life at the command of others. But the one thing he was sure about? His love for boobs, especially yours. 
Nudging closer between your legs, he rested your knees on his thighs, leaning down to your chest as he popped a nipple into your mouth, sucking gently. The nub was hard against his tongue, slowly circling as he massaged the opposite one in his palm, pinching your nipple gently. That’s when you began to stir, hands sliding against the bed and unconsciously searching for the cause of your sensitivity. Lazy hands pushed against his face, soft groans echoing in the boy’s ears as he popped off your nipple and moved to the next one. Your hands fingered through his hair, tugging lightly until your eyes were beginning to flutter, your mind slowly coming alive. Toby let off your tit, kissing along your chest and licking a stripe between your tits, humming as he watched your eyes slowly blink open, confusion rocking you. He kneaded your tits gently, tugging at your nipples as you realized what was happening, eyes slowly widening as you strained to sit up against him. “Toby? Wha-” Your voice was scratchy, ridden with exhaustion as the brunette kissed up your neck to your cheeks, pushing you back down as he slotted himself flush between your legs. Slowly realizing what was happening, your cheeks flushed dark, hands pressing against his chest as you squirmed, nervously babbling as your body was still half asleep. “Lay b- back, baby… You’re so ti- tired, let me take c- care of you…” Toby sighed, running his hands back down along your skin, relishing in the way your body nervously shook under him.
You physically could not believe what was happening. This had to be a dream, some sick trick your mind was playing as you felt cold fingers hook under your panties, sliding them down. Heavy eyes wide, you grabbed his arms, clenching your thighs together against his waist. “No- No, wait- I don’t even, I mean, I’ve never-” Toby was already shushing you, gripping your wrists together and kissing your palms before pushing them back down to your sides, resuming his tug down your thighs. “I’ve go- got you. Don- Don’t gotta worry about a- a thing…” He smiled, raising your legs up to slide your panties down the rest of the way, hooking them off of your raised ankles before pulling you down closer to him, pushing your shirt over your head. “Read y- your journal, you don- don't gotta act protective, ba- baby. I know this is what y- you want…” If you weren’t already panicking, you definitely were now. 
You wanted to hound him for snooping through your journal, mouth opening to tell him off. But as his fingers brushed against the inside of your thigh, dangerously close to your folds, you lost all train of thought. He was watching you, eyes excited in the darkness of your room as he swiped his thumb closer again, your thighs flinching shut. “Anyone else e- ever touched here before?” He mumbled, pressing his thumb against your plump lips and tugging them open, getting a nice look at the wetness that was already forming between your folds. Shaking your head, Toby lit up, cock pushing hard against his jeans as he had to adjust his position, using both hands to pull your lips apart, sighing at how pretty your cunt was. Just something about knowing that Toby was claiming his stake on you, imprinting his touch for the first time before anyone else could, made something deep inside of him burn. It wasn’t like the brunette got much play himself, hooking up with a girl here and there, but being your first? That already made this so much better than any other girl could even try. 
Sliding his fingers through your wetness, you gasped, hands clutching the pillow behind your head as he groaned, spreading your arousal across your lower abdomen. You whined, thighs begging to clench together as he purposefully slid your juices over your cunt, pressing his thumb down against your swollen clit and jolting your back off the mattress. You had only ever masturbated here and there, your body getting too overwhelmed after one orgasm and forcing you to stop, but would Toby stop? As he brought his fingers to his lips and sucked them into his mouth, you doubted his restraint.
“Please be gentle…” You warned, hands planting on the mattress as you sat up, resting on your elbows as you watched Toby bring his digits back down to your cunt. He rolled his eyes playfully, tugging your folds open with his opposite hand as he pressed the tips of his fingers against your entrance, pressing in slowly. “I’ll try…” He laughed, your fingers gripping the sheets tight as you watched his fingers sink in slow, stretching your cunt uncomfortably. His index and middle fingers screwed into your tight walls gently, twisting his wrist to draw a moan from your lips, digits spreading against your gummy walls and making your entrance ache. “Just i- imagine my dick in here…” He cooed, eyes darting between your nervous face and your pretty cunt fluttering around just his fingers, barely even handling them. 
Pressing his opposite thumb against your clit, he began to rub in small circles, dragging your hips further and further off of the mattress until you were practically rolling your hips against him. His fingers probed in and out of your cunt at a slow pace, just enough to make you comfortable with the unfamiliar intrusion, but his arms ached to go faster, curl his fingers until you spasmed. “Toby…” You sighed, his hands moving in time with other as he screwed his fingers inside of you, angling them just enough so they pressed against your tight walls. His name sounded like heaven against your aroused tongue, so quiet but so desperate, secretly drawling for more. “Tell me w- what you want, ba- baby…” The pet name made your face hot, your stomach fluttering as you pressed back into the pillows, running your hands down to your thighs and squeezing the flesh. “I want… more…” You sighed through your arousal, cunt clenching desperately around Toby’s cold fingers, sucking them back inside every time he drew them out. The brunette laughed, pushing his feet under him to push his hips up against your ass, your hips raising off the bed as he fingered down into you. You could feel his cock straining behind his jeans below your raised ass, twitching needily with every tug of his fingers and moan that whined from your throat. His size was overwhelming, making your heart pound as Toby began to curl his fingers, making your eyes shut quickly. 
His fingers pressed so deep in your cunt, curling against your sensitive walls and making your jaw hang, beginning to press against your walls at a steady rhythm. It was like a new fire had lit under Toby, fingers screwing in at a quicker pace and making your stomach clench, face screwing into an overwhelmed feeling. His fingers pumped in, knuckles sinking in through your wetness and gripped by your gummy walls, curling his fingertips just right as he got deep. It was so intense, so rough, just a mess of slick and your wet cunt sounding through the room with every squelch as he abused your clit, swiping left and right quickly. Your thighs twitched and ached with every curl, trying to close around his hand practically fucking you into sensitivity. Your hands wrapped around his forearm quickly, begging his wrists to stop curling abusively inside of you as you tugged your nails into his skin. Toby wouldn’t, continuing to pump his fingers as he stared at your flushed face, cunt squelching embarrassingly loud. “Just a l- little more… Co- Come on…” He groaned, nudging his hips against your bare ass as his fingers milked moans and whines out of you, his fingers glistening with your arousal every time he tugged them out. He couldn’t feel you clawing at his arms, loud groans begging him to let up as your cunt clenched, molding around his thick fingers. 
You could feel your orgasm rolling through you, Toby huffing as the veins in his arms popped, his shoulder muscles straining against his shirt as he watched your face carefully, picking up as your moans became louder. “Gonna come f- for me? Yeah?” He teased, clothed cock twitching against your ass, pushing your cheeks apart as he rutted against you. He curled his fingers quicker, mumbling his arousal as he watched your cunt swell around him, clit throbbing under his thumb. Your orgasm hit you like a truck, stomach tightening and forcing you to sit up, Toby was quick to let off your clit and wrap his arm around your back, holding you up as he pumped your through your cunt squelching, tightening around his digits. Your eyes rolled, teeth grit tight as he palmed your clit, slowing his pace to a slow thrust as you became undone against him. No orgasm of your own had ever compared to that, head light and chest heavy as you breathed quickly, gripping Toby’s shirt tight. 
Refusing to let you go, Toby leaned in, pressing kisses against your neck and licking at your sweat, relishing in the warmth around his digits. You whined, cunt sensitive as he tugged his fingers out, his skin raw and pruned against the wetness coating his digits. Your folds were absolutely drenched, Toby spreading his fingers through your lips and pushing his sopping fingers over your warm thighs wrapped around him. “God, y- you’re so wet-” He gasped, pressing his fingertips back against your clit as he laid you back, gripping your tit. Your mind panicked, cunt flashing with sensitivity as he began to rub against your clit, swiping left and right against the rub quickly. “Toby- Stop- Toby, please-” You cried, breath catching in your throat as your stomach clenched, his fingers pressing hard as he pinched your nipples, eyes trained on your wet pussy. “You e- ever squirt before?” He smiled, transitioning fast between digging his fingers into your cunt and pulling them back out to swipe against your clit. It was nauseating, cunt crying desperately for relief as he dug nails into your tits. Gasping loudly, you gripped his arms, knees screwing tight against his sides as you cried out, hips bucking up against his hands. 
Every time his fingers slipped into your entrance, they squelched loudly, fluttering around the intrusion before desperately aching as they tugged out and moved onto your clit. “Squirt li- like a whore, m- mkay? Quit fightin’.” He hissed, letting his hand off your tit and scooping under your left knee, pushing it back to open your cunt wider, spreading your legs further apart. Your head was dizzy, heart pounding as you gasped for air, panting at every push of his fingers. You were already quick to cumming, but it felt weird, not that normal clench you felt in your stomach, more of a strain against your cunt itself. You cried out, tears slipping down your cheeks as he forced your pussy against his will, ruining you. 
As he swiped his fingertips down hard against your clit, your entrance clenched, mouth opening wide as you cried out, hips bucking up as you felt your cunt squirt, thighs trembling hard. There was literally nothing to compare it to, mind hazy as you sprayed onto his black shirt, his fingers digging into your entrance and pushing more juices out of your swollen folds. Toby was smiling, moaning his approval as he rubbed your clit softly, pushing the last of your orgasm out as you strained against the mattress. “Gunna fu- fuck you dumb, baby…” He growled, tugging the soaked shirt over his head and tossing it as he unzipped his jeans, tugging them down and off his legs as his cock hung heavy against your drenched cunt. You couldn’t even react, head spinning as Toby gripped your hips, pushing you onto your side as he grabbed your ankle, pulling it onto his shoulder and straddling your other. 
Neck craning with excitement, he teased the tip of his swollen cock between your folds, slicking himself up with your ruined juices. “This is wh- what you wanted, is- isn’t it?” He smiled wildly, pressing his cock into your ruined cunt, groaning loudly as you swallowed him in, warmth gripping tight as he gripped your leg, other hand stable on your tit. You groaned, face turned into the pillow as he began to thrust deep, giving you no mercy as he tugged at your nipple, biting at your calf as he fucked into you. You felt so full, your body so exhausted already as stretched you further, your entrance burning against the sting of this new girth. You squeezed him so tight, cock forcing itself deeper with every tug of his hips as you began to cry, tears staining your pillowcase.
“Fuckin’ tal- alk to me, baby. Gunna mak- make me cum al- already.” He sighed, teeth chewing against the meat of your calf as he pressed your cunt wider, sweat dripping from his nose as his curls clung to his forehead. He let off your tit, left hand slinking up to grip your jaw and turn your face back to look at him, your eyes heavy as they blurred with tears. Toby looked so good right now, cheeks dark against his freckles as he towered above you, cock pushing against your gummy walls and making your mouth hang. “So pretty…” He smiled, slinking his hand down to your throat and squeezing, cock pulsing as your face tightened, mouth gasping out as he clamped tighter, refusing you air. There was something so orgasmic about cutting your airway, watching your body react as he fucked your virgin cunt, holding your life in his hands. He had to breathe deep to stop himself from cumming, his violent brain spasming out. 
He pushed your ankle over his head, pulling out roughly as he rolled you onto your stomach, you gasping from the wave of air hitting your lungs. Pushing himself against your ass, Toby swore, pushing his cock back into your cunt as he pushed your back down, making you arch against him. “Just a l- little more, m’kay?” He growled, wrapping a hand around the back of your neck and squeezing hard, pressing your face down into the pillow. With a new pace, he fucked down into you wildly, hand kneading your ass hard as digging his nails into your skin, little welts forming across the soft flesh. Your muffled cries sounded against the pillow, head light and static filled as you gasped for air, Toby’s cock ramming down against your g-spot. “Never s- seen a bitch so willing, so des- desperate for my dick you’d gi- give it up so easily.” He teased, growling as he let off your neck, neck sore as he leaned down, pushing your hair off your neck. Toby hadn’t felt like this before, wanting to mark you, fucking you so desperately he wanted to carve his shape deep inside. He couldn’t let you go without knowing exactly who you craved, corrupting you, ruining you, molding you to fit only him. 
He licked against your shoulder, sucking onto the skin before he pressed his teeth, digging both hands into your hips as he sunk them in, groaning at the pop as your blood soaked his teeth. You were crying, screaming into the pillow as your entire body begged for him, craving him, mind going blank as your blood dripped from his chin as he licked at the wound. He pressed on, nibbling into the crook of your neck and sucking revolting hickies into your skin, marking you like an animal. “Wan- Want you to come on m- my cock, baby. I got- gotta fill you full, want y- you ruined for everyone b- but me.” He mumbled quickly, cock begging to spill inside of your warm cunt as you reached around, gripping his hair as he sunk his teeth in again, walls fluttering around him. You pulled his hair, dragging his mouth off of your neck and to your lips, smashing your swollen, tear-stained lips against his as he groaned, kissing you roughly. 
You were cumming again, back arching onto Toby’s cock as you moaned into his mouth, walls holding him tight inside. He tried to move, to continue thrusting, but you were so tight all he could do was rutt his hips, begging for friction as his own seed spilt, his brows screwing tight as he came deep inside of you, warm cum seeping deep into your cunt. Your mind was blank, eyes rolled as you cried into his grasp, his nails digging into your hips until you were nearly bleeding. Your cunt squelched, milking his cock as he finally pulled from your lips, letting the last of your orgasms fizzle out before he pushed off of you, slowly tugging himself out as you whined. Looking back, his cock was soaked, glistening with your arousal and streaks of blood, Toby’s eyes wide. “Ah… Yo- You tore…” He hissed, wiping his soft cock with his shirt before pulling his boxers on, quickly trotting out of your room. You dropped your head back onto the pillow, cunt aching and body ruined as you sat in your sweat and each other’s cum, mind tired as you slowly blinked. 
Toby was back in seconds, a water bottle, a wet rag, and a small bag all in tow as he climbed back onto the bed, flipping your lazy body onto your back. You smiled, sipping the water bottle slowly as he began to clean you up, gently running the warm rag between your folds and against your thighs until he was satisfied, gently rubbing your skin. Finally, he grabbed the bag, your confusion evident as he tugged out the prescription bag, rummaging for the plan b he made you buy and popping one of the pills out, handing it to you as he smiled. Your chest welled, previous anxiety dissipating until you began to tear up, taking the small pill before reaching to wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him down next to you. Toby went easily, body cradling against yours as he kissed against the bruised spots on your neck, rubbing your bite mark gently.
As you began to doze, Toby mumbled something about your note, your mind too dizzy to hear the rest. The last thing you saw was a subtle flash behind your eyelids, sleep overtaking you as Toby held you close.
-
Morning came quickly, your body stirring, reaching for Toby but finding the bed empty. Confused, you sat up, eyes heavy and head still pounding but you pressed off the bed anyway, searching for the boy. Downstairs, on the countertop, laid his hoodie neatly folded, with a small piece of paper resting on top. Sauntering over, you reached for the top, sliding it over your head, it falling before your hips as you gripped the paper, reading its contents.
On a mission. Be back later tonight. Meanwhile, enjoy ;)
Flipping the paper over, you gasped, slapping your hand over your mouth. A small picture was taped to the back, a polaroid-type photo of the two of you cradled together, your bare body pressed against his, bruises and sweat on full display. Smiling, you tucked it into his pocket, breathing the scent of his hoodie deep as Addy circled your ankles, begging for breakfast. 
Staring out your back porch door, you made sure it was unlocked, always open for him. Killer or not, that boy was yours now, accepting his every mishap the same way he did yours. For the first time in a long time, you felt wanted. 
Rest in Hell, Mr. Higgs.
This was an anonymous request!
Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹
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muzansfangs · 6 months ago
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You tell them you got a brazilian wax by a guy.
Starring: Choso Kamo x f!reader; Kento Nanami x f!reader; Higuruma Hiromi x f!reader;
Format: short-imagines;
Warnings: nsfw, dirty innuendos, fluff, jealousy, established relationships, nipple play, spanking, playfully biting the partner arses, oral sex (reader!receiving), vaginal sex, breeding kink, creampie, face sitting, unprotected sex;
Plot: A trend on Tik Tok made you plot a devious plan to make your beloved boyfriend going mad. He knew you had an appointment for a brazilian wax. He obviously assumed you were going to be assisted by a woman. How will he react, when you tell him it was a man? Will his jealousy go too far? Will your prank get you in a bad situation?
﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏
Choso Kamo.
Choso’s lips glided down your neck, nipping, sucking onto the flesh with the same care a potter would handle his fragile new creation. This man was genuinely head over heels for you. Ever since his little brother had introduced you two, Choso had found a new reason to live and, supposedly, be a better person. He had learned so much about human interactions, about feelings and even about intimacy. While he was not properly addicted to sex, this man loved being inside of you more than anything. He needed to touch your soft skin, he needed your warmth around him. That evening was not that different from an ordinary one.
His hands were cupping your breasts, fondling them, thumb and index rolling your handened nipples to elicit from your throat the soft moans he loved to hear from you so much. You did not fail his expectations. You cried out, head lolling back against his shoulder in ecstasy.
“Sing for me, babe” Choso mumbled, your insides clenching around his shaft deliciously as he slowly bucked his hips up to stimulate you.
The squelching sounds filling the room were making your head spin, eyes fluttering to enjoy the sensations to its fullest. You hated pissing him off, you really did, but above anything else you loathed causing his heart to ache. Still, that trend was too tempting not to try it on your sweet boyfriend.
You hummed, sinking down further onto his cock to meet his lazy thrusts “Louder? I don’t want the neighbours to complain again, Choso” you replied breathless, tilting your head to the side to kiss his cheek. Your hand reached towards his left hand, giving it a squeeze, before guiding it down towards your pubes.
Choso groaned, fingers grazing the smooth skin in delight, while he reached down to flick your throbbing clitoris dilegently “They can burn in Hell, baby. — he promptly said, smiling against your neck — All I care about it you and this sweet pussy of yours. Gosh, I can’t wait to taste your orgasm later” he praised you, causing you to shriek for a deeper thrust of his hips.
“Yeah? Is it that sweet, babe? I got to tell Akio then. I couldn’t describe its flavour to him today” you blurted out, only for Choso’s smile to disappear.
Choso.exe stopped working.
His movements halted, his eyes darkening as he grasped your chin to turn your head in his direction. Lying to his face was going to be hard, especially since he had put up such a puppy face that your heart ached in your chest.
“Akio? Who’s Akio?” Choso asked you, his voice low and a tad serious.
“The guy who waxed me today. Did I forget to mention him to you?”.
“Akio is a guy, isn’t he?”.
You giggled, booping his nose affectionately “Sure he is, silly. What’s with that?”.
Choso huffed, the tips of his ears turning pink as he embraced your tighter “A guy… Did you let another boy look at your pussy? Babe, why? Tell me that’s not true! You would never let anyone touch your—” he wept and you could swear tears brimmed in his eyes. Oh no, that was enough. You could not keep it up anymore.
You sighed, shaking your head vigorously “No! It’s a joke, Choso, please! I’ve been an idiot! Forgive me, baby! Look at me” you interrupted him, pressing your forehead against his one.
Choso relaxed, his breath still kind of irregular as he palmed his forehead in distress. You had really scared him. He could not still bear with jealousy. Apparently, he was not the type to go mad. Choso was too kind-hearted for that. Dealing with feelings was still hard for him. His lips captured yours, gently, holding you close as he relished the feeling of being in your arms.
“Don’t do it again” he whispered and you nodded your head in agreement. Poor Choso, struggling with jealousy.
Higuruma Hiromi.
This man was born to give you oral. Underneath you, head squeezed by the fat of your thighs, your dripping core bare for him to lavish with his tongue and your clitoris for his nose to stroke, Hiromi could happily die. The sweet sounds you made, the way you rolled your hips for facilitate the way he lapped at your folds with flat of his tongue were such a delicacy. If he was asked about a good way to die, the stressed out lawyer would have decidedly declared you his designated executioner and welcomed your pussy as his deathbed.
Now, sitting on his face, hands scrambling up to hold onto the metal bars of the bedhead, you whimpered out his name in bliss. The pleasure was so intense your obnubilated mind was neglecting the plan, your thirst for him not quenching in the slightest when you felt the tip of his tongue slip in between your smooth, slippery folds.
“H-Hiromi! Gosh, don’t stop” you drawled out, back arching as his hands, sprawled over your arses, squeezed onto the rounded globes in unbridled possessiviness.
He had no intention to stop, not even as his chin and nose were coated onto a glistening mixture of your juices and his own saliva. This was not a simple way to cherish your moments with him, this was downright his favorite addiction. Hiromi did not really care if you skipped your appointment with the beautician. He frankly appreciated how much care of your body you had, but he had never asked you to get a wax. Never. Still, when you did, he could not deny how much he loved the way his tongue smoothly skimmen over your silky folds.
“Ride my nose harder, baby” he rasped, his cock twitching in his pants as you shifted upwards, following his command eagerly.
You inhaled sharply, eyes downcast to peer down at your husband’s face barely visible from underneath your thighs. The timing was perfect. Eyes screwed shut, Hiromi was gradually guiding your hips back and forth to help you rub your swollen clitoris over his prominent nose. Waves of electricity ran through your veins, as you let out a pathetic whine. Now, or never, you had to drop the bomb before it was too late.
“I don’t think there’s a single hair left, right?” you breathed out, Hirmoni’s teeth nipping gently at your labia with a huff.
“Not even a single one… — your husband rumbled out — Not that I’d mind anyway” he whispered, mouth opening to leave wet kisses on the inside of your thigh. You two were making a mess.
You shivered, biting down onto your lower lip to concentrate better before shattering that poor man’s world with a single sentence “Yeah, I know, Hiroshi did such an amazing job”.
Hiromi’s assualt on your heat ended instantly. Hooded eyes opening, a knot creasing his forehead, he glanced up at you inquisitively “You meant Hiroko, not Hiroshi. I sincerely hope so”.
“No, I meant Hiroshi. — you countered back, breath still uneven as you wiped away the sweat beading your forehead with the back of your hand — Hiroko got down with a cold, he’s in charge of the beauty center now. I probably forgot to fill you up with the news” you replied, trying to sound convincing as Hiromi just stared blankly up at you.
Maybe it was just your impression, but the atmosphere around you, once charged with sexual tension, grew gloomy, almost chilling. His finger slipping into your core all of sudden made you choke out a screech of surprise, pleasure and discomfort engulfing your lower abdomen as you gawked down at him.
“Don’t talk. Not a single word unless I demand you to speak” Hiromi flatly said, curling his finger into you unforgivingly slowly.
You gaped in shock, legs almost giving up as he shoved another finger into your sappy hole, his eyes darkening as he assessed your reaction. He could not believe you had waited up until that very moment to tell him such a thing! You, his muse, his reason to wake up in the morning, you had let another man touch his nest.
“Did this man touch my home? Did you let him graze his fingers over your pubes, down to your labia, spreading them for him to enjoy the view?” he interrogated you, his tone sharp and cold, taking the same edge it did when he was in a courtroom. This was a problem. You knew you had to stop that circus.
You cried out, lips parted, as you shook your head “H-Hiro! It was a joke! It was a joke, I swear!” you fretted, watching with glee as his expression relaxed and he slided his fingers out of you.
You did not register how he slipped out from between your thighs, pushing your face down onto the pillow as he bit down onto your arse. All you knew was that, when he finally was deep inside of you, his mouth neared your ear and he got back at you from your silly staunt “Let me fill you up with something better than a fib, hm?”.
Nanami Kento.
Large and calloused hands gripping your hipbones, cock stretching you out deliciously, you did your best not to reach your climax right away. Kento Nanami, the best partner you could have ever asked for, was taking his sweet time with you. His hips smacked against yours in a firm, steady pace, as you almost drooled over the polished wooden surface of the desk.
Sex after he came back from his small work trips was the best. Passionate, intense, the lust blinding you two all of a sudden. This time, it had washed over you, when he had seen you saunter towards him all dolled up for a dinner out. A dinner he had promised you before leaving and a dinner you were probably going to be late for.
“I missed you. Wholeheartedly. Waking up alone sucks” Kento stated, burying himself into you to the hilt.
You moaned out, nails scraping the wood as you pushed back against him, squeezing him up perfectly to enjoy the way his girth made itself space within your walls. You were absolutely in a frenzy, your make-up ruined, as you rested your cheek against the desk.
“I missed you too, oh so much” you replied, breath uneven as he leaned down to plant a kiss onto your nape, thrusting slowly into you, making love instead of fucking. This felt just perfect, so perfect that, if it was not for him speaking up, you would have forgotten completely about the devious plan you had in mind.
“You even waxed for me, huh?” he whispered, causing you to tighten up around him again and for your husband to grunt in pleasure.
“You shall t-thank Noboru for the last minute appointment he agreed on” you blurted out, Kento’s eyes widening at your words. A shot through the heart would have felt less painful.
A man had seen his wife’s pussy? Oh, that was impossible. He was probably too tired and had misheard your words. The Hell with that, he was never tired when he was with you. Kento Nanami had heard you correctly. He cleared his throat, hips still, whilst he gazed down at you.
“Noboru?”.
You swallowed forcefully, glancing at him from above your shoulder “Yeah?”.
“Are you perhaps implying you lied down on a couch, legs wide open, to let Noboru touch your pussy?” he inquired, voice calm and collected, even if his grip on your hips was getting bruising.
You nodded your head “And what if I did?”.
“Then I will accompany you the next time you want to get waxed. — Kento replied, giving you a warning thrust that made your breath hitch in your thraot — You know, I would not want our dear Noboru to just imagine the filthy sounds your pussy makes, when I fuck it. Let’s give him a show, darling. What do you say? Would he like to watch me fuck you?” he asked you, resuming his relentless pace.
His hand landing harshly onto your rear caused you to whimper out, sweat beading your forehead, as you regretted your choice to tease your beloved husband. His silent, latent jealousy was turning out to he too hot to handle. He caught a glimpse of you trying to open up your mouth to admit it was all a lie, but he shushed you with another spank.
“Hush, sweetheart. — he cooed, your whines a melody he would have never get tired of — I know you were joking. But we both were serious about trying to have a kid, right? Let’s start tonight. Fuck the dinner, I’ll cook for you later” he rasped out, increasing the pace of his thrusts.
Oh, dear, your wobbly legs and the hot seed dribbling down the inside of your thighs were the signs the only two men allowed to see you naked were your husband and your gynecologist.
AUTHOR NOTE.
Hello there! I always feel so giddy when I write for JJK. Hopefully, you’re going to enjoy this piece. I don’t think you guys will get a part two soon, but I do not close the door to that possibility.
Anyway, likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!
until next,
X O X O
TAGS: @axesfordays @areyouflying
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lale-txt · 9 months ago
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❥ falling asleep besides you for the first time ↳ w/ Toji, Naoya, Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Higuruma, Sukuna & Choso
a/n: this came over me like a fever dream during another episode of insomnia. some of those drabbles are a little sad, i apologize. it's what you get with all those tragics characters. reader is gn!
word count: 1.4k
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𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 doesn’t even want to fall asleep; it’s not like he had a good night of rest ever since… well. He tells himself he’s just gonna close his eyes for a bit, stretched out on the couch next to you, his weary head in your lap. There’s still blood on his hands and on the side of his face, he’s gonna get cleaned up in just a bit, he mumbles, but the words come out heavy and drowsy, and your fingers are tangled in his hair now and your voice is this sweet whisper, baby, I love you anyway, and Toji–Toji just gives in. For the first time, sleep doesn’t come over him as a heavy veil, as if he’s drowning; for once it’s something peaceful, something quiet. Something he welcomes. Next to you, you with your fingers woven between his, you who loves even the broken parts of him, you with quiet love and reassurance that you’re still gonna be there when he wakes up again.
𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔𝐌𝐀 hasn’t had another warm body next to him under the covers in a long time. He doesn’t realize how much he missed this until your body melts into his, one leg swung over his thighs, your arm sneaking around his waist and your head finding its spot in the crook of his neck. His cheek falls softly against your forehead when he pulls you closer, breathing in the scent of you that’s the closest to home he ever felt, pressing kisses on the crown of your head. It’s not just lust–oh, he wants to devour you, but there’ll be time in the morning–it’s the absence of loneliness and unspoken confessions. Higuruma can tell when he’s falling in love and in this moment he’s wading deep, deeper through his feelings for you, biting his tongue so they don’t spill out all over the pillows and into you. You already know anyway, and when the sun comes up again, you’ll lick them from the cave of his mouth like a prayer.
𝐍𝐀𝐎𝐘𝐀 can’t fall asleep, not on his wedding night, not when your mouth is whispering all those words he’s demanding from you. His cheek is pressed against your palm while he’s pinning you down, almost nuzzling into it like a touch-starved stray, golden eyes lingering on you. Say you’re mine. Again. Say who you belong to. Mine. Mine. All mine. He isn’t aware how pleading he sounds, how raspy his voice gets the more you obey, every time you sigh his name so softly into his open mouth. Naoya doesn’t care if you’re lying, as long as you wear your wedding band on your ring finger for everyone to see. You’re his to keep now, and if he could have it his way, you would be forbidden to leave this bed forever; he wasn’t aware just how much he had craved the presence of another being by his side at night, one who doesn’t leave once he had his share of pleasure. No, you’re his now, and before sleep eventually finds him, he’ll make sure to sink his teeth into you till his name rolls off your tongue like a lullaby. 
𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 doesn’t let go of your hand; he’s afraid it’ll go cold if he allows himself to let his guard down even for one second. This isn’t how he had imagined spending the first night with you. Not under the fluorescent lights of the infirmary, not with your body wrapped in gauze and machinery monitoring your heart rate. It dawns on him as he’s sitting on your bedside–how attached he’s gotten to you, then: How he had almost lost you today. He squeezes your hand tighter and sighs, his weary head sinking down on the mattress. Your fingers twitch and find their way into his hair, combing through it weakly. As if they say, it’s okay, I’m alive, you’re not to blame. So please don’t leave and take all your love with you. And Nanami takes your hand once again and kisses your fingertips, pressing promises against your skin, promises of a future where you and him can just be, one where he can finally put all of these feelings down, down in your open and gentle palms for you to keep.
𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 is clingy throughout the day, but even more so at night. He doesn’t like the eerie quiet that settles in once the sun has sunken, not when he can listen to your steady breathing next to him instead, so naturally he feels a rush of joy when you push your futons together for the first time. His heart is beating way too fast to find sleep now, his eyes taking in everything about your sleeping figure, from the way your chest rises and falls to how your nose scrunches slightly for a moment. Choso wants to know what you’re dreaming about, what colors your dreams are, and if he’s ever in them. He wants to engrave himself into your being, wants to keep you wrapped in his arms forever. His kisses feel light against your skin, careful not to wake you but enough to fill his desire. Choso loves you with his entire being, and sleep is merely an obstacle, cutting away from your time spent together–though he must admit, his eyes flutter shut quite easily in your embrace.
𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 realizes that his idea of ‘sweets in bed’ now has a double meaning, seeing you sprawled out in his sheets with candy wrapping paper clenched between your fist and more of it lying on the floor. Cute, he can’t help but murmur as he lays down next to you on his side, mustering you with an amused smile on his lips. When he told you to knock yourself out on the sweet souvenirs he brought, he didn’t assume you would take it that literally. His thumb brushes over the corner of your mouth, collecting some of the powdered sugar that’s still stuck there, and Gojo could swear he never tasted anything sweeter than this when he brings it to his tongue. He gently replaces the trash you hold onto in your sleep with his fingers, woven between yours, and pulls you close to him, his tall figure embracing you; and for the first time in a long time, Gojo feels a wave of calm wash over him, allowing him to exhale and sink into a dream almost as sweet as you.
𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 doesn’t know why he keeps entertaining your antics. Sharing a bed, sleeping together side by side? How utterly foolish, but as to be expected from a mere human; they’ve always been like this, seeking comfort and warmth when they’re the most vulnerable. Of course a predator like Sukuna wouldn’t have to worry about sleeping safe and sound. Yet still; he can’t help but let his gaze linger on you, wrapped up in his embrace, four arms holding you in place on top of him. Everyone else would freeze in fear, but you? You snore quietly without a single worry in the world, knowing you have a king watching over you in your slumber. Sukuna huffs but still brushes a strand of hair out of your face. Maybe he’ll tell Uraume that you’re off the menu, for now. As long as you know your place–in his embrace, wearing his marks with pride, providing a sense of comfort Sukuna had never known before. Fool, he mutters and rests his chin on top of your head, not sure if those words were for him or you. 
𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 doesn’t question when you knock on the door of his dorm room, asking for shelter after a particular nightmare. He hasn’t found any sleep yet anyway. When he lifts up the covers for you to slip under, he’s surprised that you don’t even hesitate to do so, wrapping yourself around his body as if it was molded for that only. Geto can tell that you’re trying not to tremble, but the nightmare still lingers. He knows it all too well. His fingers brush through your hair when he pulls you closer to his chest, as if this could prevent you from falling apart–though deep down he’s aware that he might be the one on the verge of breaking. You know it too, don’t you? Geto is tired, oh, so tired. The kind of tired sleep can’t fix, and he can’t help but wonder if this would also be the last time that you’re in his arms, clinging onto someone who is long gone; a version of him that he shed together with his dream of letting himself love you.
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xetlynn · 1 month ago
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arcane imagines- viktor/jayce
caught in the mix
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[arcane] [main page]
🔞⚠️CONTENT WARNING⚠️🔞: SMUTTTTTT SMUT
Prompt: Viktor and you think you have an hour until Jayce shows to work on a project… turns out you were wrong.
Contains: oral m!and f! Receiving, double penetrating, riding, overstimulation, crack smut, Idk.
“He said he’ll be here in an hour, he’s caught up with something.” Viktor speaks up from your shared bedroom as you’re taking a bite of an apple, walking in from the kitchen. “An hour, you say.” You wiggle your eyebrows causing him to scoff out a laugh. 
“Such a perv.” He tosses his phone on the bed, standing up to stretch out his torso. “Only for you.” You swallow the food in your mouth. “I’m going to take a shower… if you want to join me.” He winks your way as he walks past you to the bathroom. You take one last bite of the fruit before throwing it in the trash. Eagerly following after your boyfriend. 
You sit on the counter beside the sink as you watch Viktor start the water then begin to undress. Your mouth salivating at the sight you could never grow tired of. “Love, you’re drooling.” He motions to your face and you scrunch your nose with a smile. “I can’t help it, you make me feel such lewd things.” You defend yourself, leaning back against the mirror. “I guess I can’t be too hard on you. I’d be lying if I said you didn’t do the same to me.” His naked form makes its way over to you and you spread your legs so he can stand between them. 
“Really?” You place your arms over his shoulders. “Mhm, let’s get in the shower and I can show you the things I think of.” He pats the outside of your thigh and you squeal excitedly. He reopens the class see-through door, stepping inside. You hurriedly take your clothes off, almost tripping over your own pants. 
He laughs as you are rushing to join him, slamming the door behind you once you’re inside. “You’re so impatient, dove.” He sighs and you shrug your shoulders, pulling him into a kiss as water beats down on the both of you. 
What the two of you failed to realize was that the message Jayce sent was a mistake, he reinstated that he was wrong and he was actually on his way now. A five minute drive away. 
The two of you carelessly making out, hands roaming over one another as if this isn’t the umpteenth time doing this with one another. Your hand palming his painfully hard member, he whimpers into your mouth. His fingers dance down to your core, dipping in and out of you teasingly. 
“I know-” you pull back from him, letting out a small pant. “I know you said you wanted to show me, but I need to suck your dick.” You inform him boldly, slightly catching him off guard. “Need to?” He looks down at you. “Mhm, an urge, an urge I can’t subdue any longer.” You dramatically say, crouching down before planting down on your knees. 
“By all means, take it like it’s yours, hun.” He feels the water dripping down from his hair, staring down at his partner stroking his length. You eye it, admiring what’s yours. “I plan to.” You hum, your tongue flattening around the red, precum dripping tip before slowly inching it into your mouth. 
Viktor lets out a low groan, grabbing a fistful of your hair as your head begins to bob. He leans on his left leg as you swallow his cock down your throat. Your nose touching his pelvis. “F-uck, love.” He stammers. 
You moan from hearing his voice, a hand going up to fondle his balls. Knowing it was something he enjoyed. He gasps, letting out a whine. Your eyes gaze up at him, having to blink repeatedly from the drizzle of the shower hitting off of him and onto you. 
“So pre-pretty like this.” He caresses your face as you slurp and guzzle around his dick. Sounding so messy for him. 
He was loud, something you enjoyed. Something you’ve repeatedly told him to be. Vocal and a whiny mess just for you. To encourage you and let you know you’re making him feel good. 
Only this time it’s heavily against the both of you as your mutual best friend walks into your apartment, unlocking it with the key you had given him a few months back. Your bathroom door wide open and allows Jayce to hear every single noise the two of you are making. 
He didn’t notice it at first, placing his stuff down on the kitchen counter, taking one of your apples from the fruit bowl. As he takes the first bite the noises finally hit his ears. Viktor moaning out your name. “Fucking hell, [Name]. Tongue is ‘s good~” He huffs. Jayce’s eyes widened in shock. 
He drops the apple, going to pick his stuff back up and leave the apartment so he doesn’t have to hear this. Unfortunately he trips over said apple. Dropping his very heavy briefcase that held all the information for your three’s work assignment. “Shit!” He mutters, picking it up. 
He was too late to leave before you were covered in your towel running out with a baseball bat, water dripping on the ground. You go to swing, “Who the hell!?” You automatically drop your stance when seeing your best friend. “Oh, hey Jayce.” You laugh, leaning the bat down. Going over and giving him a hug. Still soaked from the shower. 
“Thought you said you were caught up in something?’ You ask so nonchalantly as if you weren’t just giving the best head ever to your boyfriend in the other room. His face was beat red, even through his dark tan you could tell he was extremely flustered. He can’t even stutter out an answer. “You okay?” You cross your arms. 
“Love, you’re still in your towel.” Viktor comes out of the bathroom wearing only boxers and sweatpants. Using his cane to walk into the scene. You purse out your lips, looking down at yourself then back to Jayce. 
“Never seen a naked woman or something?” You raise a brow and he squeezes his eyes shut, begging that this was a dream or some made up thing in his mind. “Don��t tease him.” Viktor chuckles, looking his best friend up and down. “He heard us.” He simply says, picking up the apple from the ground, throwing it into the trash. “I-I was trying to leave! I didn’t know that’s what-” Jayce panics, trying to explain himself. 
“Eh, we had the door open. Wasn’t your fault.” Viktor shrugs his shoulders acting as if Jayce hearing the two of you wasn’t something incredibly inappropriate. “Even with the door open Vik here would still be sounding through the room.” You tease, standing on your tiptoes and kissing him. 
“Guys, please.” Jayce meeps out with an embarrassed look. You smirk over to him. “What? Us having sex turns you on or something?” You inquire, stepping over to him, your wet feet papping against the hardwood floors. “[Name]!” He steps back, shocked by what you just said. 
“You aren’t denying~” You sing, poking his chest right as you look down and then flicker back up to his face. Doing it a few more times with a smug expression adorning your face. “Your cock’s sure saying so.” You laugh, he covers himself with his briefcase. 
“[Name], leave him be.” Viktor attempts to hide his amused smile, crossing his arms over his naked chest. You pout. “Okay, okay. Sorry, Jayce! Let me go get dressed.” You excuse yourself from the room. Jayce lets out a sigh of relief once you’re gone. You were too bold and confident for your own good. 
“Sorry, you know how she is.” Viktor rubs the back of his neck, Jayce only nods his head. Still covering himself. “You okay, over there?” Viktor asks in a worried tone. “Yeah, oh yeah I’m fine. Just seemed like I was about to be pounced on.” He awkwardly laughs. “Mm, she probably would’ve.” Viktor lets out a small breath. Sitting down at the counter stool. 
Jayce furrows his brows, confused. “She would’ve? Are you two on some weird break?” He questions the guy in front of him. “Hah! No, we’ve been talking about… threesomes. If you’re up for it I’m sure it’d happen in a split second.” Viktor explains, Jayce chokes on his own spit. His best friend was just so casual… about him joining a threesome. 
“This is an awkward topic, Jayce. I’m sorry to bring it up so… broadly.” The accented man apologizes. “No, no, it’s okay. I guess I asked.” Jayce shrugs his shoulders. 
“I’m back!” You sprint over to the boys wearing a simple sweater and shorts. Loungewear for a boring thing you’re about to do. “Ready to get started on this stupid assignment?” You not-so-enthusiastically say, plopping down on the stool beside Viktor. “Sure.” Viktor hums, “let’s get to it!” Jayce accidentally says a little bit too loudly. Causing the two of you to wince. “Sorry, just excited about this project.” He murmurs, opening the case to all the informational papers. 
He passes out the packets he had printed for the both of you. You boredly skim through it. Viktor thoroughly read it. As Jayce wasn’t even looking down at it, his eyes burning into the both of you. 
Repeating what Viktor had said to him just moments before. A threesome? With the both of you? His coworkers he’d grown so close to? His best friends? 
It’s not to say he hadn’t thought about something like that before. Because trust, he most certainly has. 
He bit his bottom lip, and you glance up. Right as you do he changes his posture. “Reading” the packet at a different angle. You knit your eyebrows together, giving him a look before going back to your own packet. Leaning your head on your boyfriend’s shoulder as you do so. 
“This is soo boring!” You dramatically slam the packet down on the counter. Startling the two boys in the room. “I want to get to the fun stuff.” You groan, leaning over your lover’s body, your hand palming his face. Shaking it around. He just boredly lets you do so. 
“Fun stuff?” Jayce asks. “Yeah, the experimental part of the project.” You wink, laughing as his ears grow red. “You’re so fun to mess with!” You shrill, sitting back up on your own seat. “You’re oddly jumpy today too, us having sex really bother you that much?” You cock your head to the side, curious. “N-no, not at all. It’s a human thing!” He shakes his head vigorously. 
“Then why are you acting like we scare you?” You frown, “I’ll knock off the teasing. I promise I didn’t mean to be too much!” You assure him, giving an apologetic smile. “Ugh, no [Name], you’re not too much. I just- I don’t know!” He exclaims, punctuating a little more with gesticulation. 
“We can take a second from the project if you need to collect yourself.” Viktor offers, worried that he had caused a short-circuit to go off in his best friend’s brain by what he told him earlier. “No, no! I’m fine! I promise.” Jayce swears. “Then what’s up, J?” Your eyes were filled with concern. 
“I want to have the threesome.” He spits out now the two of you were left thunderstruck at his words. Your jaw slacks open, slowly turning into a smirk. “For real?” You rasp out, looking back at Viktor who was still a little bewildered. “Yeah- I mean, if it’s still okay? I don’t know. You guys put me in the spot before.” His voice trails off. “But now after the ten minutes of thinking time you’re sure you want to have sex with us?” Viktor queries, teasing him. 
“I mean it’s sex! What really is there to think about?” Jayce juts out his bottom lip for the judgement he just received. “A lot.” Both you and Viktor say in unison. “Our friendship is something to take into account. A threesome isn’t a permanent thing. This is temporary and to still manage a friendship afterwards could be difficult if all three parties aren’t positive that this won’t mess anything up.” Viktor explains, you nod your head in agreement to his words. 
“We’ve talked about this, the two of us know how we feel. How do you feel, Jayce?” You question him. 
“To be honest, I’ve thought about hooking up with you guys before. A drunken thought. Then a sober one. It passes, I’m not going to lie. And honestly I’m perfectly fine with it. Just a hookup. I don’t want a relationship and to be quite frank I couldn’t be in a polygamous thing.” He admits bluntly, the anxiety of it all releases from all three of your shoulders after his assurement. 
“That’s good to hear!” You snicker. “We’re all three on the same page then?” You point to the two at the same time. The both of them nod their heads. “Okay, gonna fuck me right here in this kitchen or are we gonna go to the bedroom? Spice it up and all three fit in the shower?” You joke and Viktor rolls his eyes. “I didn’t really get to shampoo my hair so if you pick the shower I will not complain.” You put your hands up. 
“[Name].” Viktor starts. “Sorry.” You chuckle. “Living room it is!” You stand up, heading to the comfortable space, Viktor watches you flop down on the couch, getting comfortable. “Is she always this… vulgar before you have sex?” Jayce asks, Viktor gets up as well, pressing his lips together. “Yeah, pretty much.” He nods. 
“I didn’t put on panties so do what you will with that information.” You smirk, trying to do a sexy pose as you laid on the sofa. Viktor snorts as Jayce covers his mouth. “You’re such an idiot.” Viktor sits down beside you. “Mm, you love me for it.” You peck his jaw, getting up to your knees. 
“Come sit, Jayce.” You pat the spot beside you. “Wanna kiss you.” You confess, he fidgets with his hands but does as you say. You gently grab onto his collar. “You’re okay with this right?” You triple check with the guy who seems like he’s going to explode from nervousness. “Yes.” He nods, letting out a shaky breath as you lean in. “Good.” 
Your lips land on his, you press onto him and his hand falls to your hip. Indicating that you can touch him more. In your head at least that’s what it indicates.
Viktor observes from the sidelines, licking his lips. Your hand goes behind you and you grab onto your boyfriend. Wanting him to join. He meekly got on his left knee, his right was off of the couch. Disengaged the kiss you boop Jayce’s nose, leaning back into your boyfriend’s chest. “He’s a good kisser. Your turn!” You look at him, almost hanging your head upside down. Viktor’s eyes meet with Jayce. 
“You okay with that?” More consent questions. Jayce was beginning to feel annoyed by it. He wanted whatever you guys were willing to do. Why couldn’t you guys get that!? “Yes.” He aggressively answers. “Woah, little eager there.” You joke with a loud laugh. “Sorry, just please. I want whatever we’re going to do.” He promises. 
“Okay boy kisser, get to it.” You pull him into a chaste kiss yourself before allowing the two to do it as well. Sandwiched in between the two, their heads leaning in and now you get to watch. They meet over your shoulder and you get the gift to grope the both of them as they sloppily make out with one another. Sneaking your hand under Jayce’s shirt, feeling his unflexed muscles. Your cold skin against his makes him groan into your boyfriend’s muzzle. Viktor uses this to prod his tongue in between the boy’s lips. Your arousal was growing with each noise they mustered out. Voices turned you on, what can you say? 
Well, boys whimpering did. You loved a man in distress. 
“Alright, alright, I’m getting jealous.” You pull them apart. “I want you both butt booty naked and kneeling before me.” You take off your shirt, Jayce gives you a look and you give one back. “I said what I said.” You roll your eyes as he goes straight to your bare chest. “Just kidding, I do want you to undress though.” You press your pointer fingers together, pretending to act shy. “Ew, that cringed me out.” You wave your hands out in disgust with yourself. 
The two laugh at you, Jayce doing as told though, throwing his shirt off with ease. Having to stand up to unbuckle his pants. You turn to Viktor who was slipping his sweatpants off but leaving his boxers. 
“Awe, the one’s I gifted you for your birthday!” You coo, your face was littered over the boxers, a little comment bubble pointed toward the crotch that said: “I fuck this dick every noight!” 
“Only ones cleaned.” He mumbles. Partially lying. They were the first ones he spotted when he thought the house was under attack. Not wanting to confront the robber wearing only a towel like you. “Sure.” You kiss him roughly. You get up from your spot and peel your shorts off, not wearing panties like you said. “Man, two dicks. All to myself.” Your tongue drags over your teeth. Jayce does what Viktor did, leaving only his boxers on. 
“Sit down, I need to plan what I’m going to do.” You faintly push the bigger man beside your boyfriend. You stand over them, naked, leaving nothing to the imagination. Jayce’s cock was throbbing against the tight fabric. Chambering him. 
Viktor was just as hard, needing to feel some sort of friction before he goes crazy. 
You then suddenly climb onto Jayce’s lap, kissing him before he can even process what’s happening. His hands on either side of him. You press your heated core against his member, grinding against him like a bitch in heat. Viktor helps out, directing his hands to your ass. “Squeeze it, she likes it.” He encourages, Jayce listens and you moan, pressing down harder on his cock. 
Earning a groan from him as well. Your tongues battle for domination. Surprisingly you lose, Jayce exploring the inside of your mouth as you were humping onto him. Viktor had pulled his boxers down, his dick springing out and slapping against his lower stomach. Dribbling spit onto his tip to use it as lube. 
Jayce’s eye peeks open, seeing it happen. His dick twitches against you. Closing the eye once again, smacking your ass and drawing you closer. You let out a small yelp, not expecting it from him. Jayce was going to retreat to apologize but you don’t let him. Almost to motivate him to do it again. 
Your wetness soaks the clothing over his girthy genitals. 
As you pull back, a string of saliva holds onto both of your lips and you grin at the nasty sight. You then look at your boyfriend. “You feel left out?” You pout, pulling him into a kiss. “Mhm…” He pumps his dick into his fist and you relish the vulnerable look he wears. “Sorry baby.” You muster against his lips. 
“Want to eat me out while I suck his pretty cock, hm?” You ask, still planted onto Jayce’s muscle, meaty lap. “Of course.” He nods his head for you, his eyes dark with lust. He was a munch for you. He loved making you cum over and over again all over his face. 
Now there you were, back arched, choking on Jayce’s girth master of a dick. Viktor behind you, slurping up all your juices that your pussy gifts upon him. Eating you out like a starved man. His swollen thumb teasing your muscled ring right above or normally below your pussy. 
Your hands gripped onto Jayce’s thighs as your head bobbed up and down on him. Attempting to take him all the way down each time. Jayce watched both of you, how you were so focused on his pleasure and Viktor seemed like he was doing it out of his own. Hearing Viktor whine and mewling into your sopping cunt. 
Your nails pressing into Jayce every now and then when you begin to gag on his length. “You’re ‘s good at this, ‘s good!” Jayce praises you, his hand going to your hair, moving it out of the way for you. Your eyes meet with his. You smile, now your attention grasping at his angry leaking tip. Hollowing out your cheeks as you suck it. His mouth gapes, his hips rutting up to where you have to shove him back down. “F-fuck!” He cries out, you were insanely good at this. Your tongue swirled and swiped at the mushroom top. One of your hands now squeezes his base, twisting and turning up and down. 
“H-holy shit! ‘M gonna… slow down!” He yowls, it was intense. Out of nowhere. 
Viktor breathes on your pussy as he stops to watch what technique you were doing to your shared friend. He hums at it. Good one. He goes back to your core, ambushing your clit. 
His lips latched and locked with your folds and your legs were starting to shake. Even he had to hump himself into the edge of the couch. Hearing everything going on in the room. He had to relieve himself somehow. 
You push your ass back on your boyfriend’s face. His nose is deliberately in your hole as his tongue works on your nub. Your free hand spreads your ass cheek allowing a different feeling to erupt in your stomach.
Your mouth paused for a quick second before continuing. “Gonna cum, pretty.” He grunts, struggling to keep his pelvis in place knowing he was just going to get knocked back down on the cushion. You let out a small noise, encouraging him to let go. His breathing was ragged and out of order. His chest heaving up and down. 
Ropes of the velvety white liquid shooting in your mouth, you fully sheath the cock inside, hitting the back of your throat so you’d have no choice but swallow what was given to you. He felt his tip being gulped down as well with the motion of your throat. He puffed out, his muscles getting to relax now. 
“Goood boy…” You grin up at him, letting his soft flaccid dick fall against his skin. His head laid on the arm of the sofa, closing his eyes. It wasn’t for long though as he lifts himself back up to watch Viktor going to town on your pussy. His hands holding onto your thighs. Your face hiding into the cushion as you let out little, “hah’s” and “fuck’s” sneaking his name in there as well. 
Jayce’s dick was already starting to grow hard once again. 
“Vik ‘most there, pleeeaasee.” You sob, clawing at the fabric underneath you. Viktor’s tongue repeatedly licking at your clit, his bottom lip hitting it as well each time he closed his mouth before re-opening, keeping this motion. His nose also causes gratification for you. Your muscles tremble, stomach tightening and recoiling as your first orgasm of the day hits you. “A-amazing, f-fuuuck! ‘Love you ‘s much, vikkie.” You hiccup, toes curling and your thighs accidentally squeezing close as your pussy squirts, sputtering out juices all into Viktor’s mouth. Swallowing it all gone. Even licking you clean afterwards. 
He finally shrinks back, sitting on his left calf with half-lidded eyes and messed up hair. His mouth coaxed with you all over. You lay there for a moment, taking a breather. You gather your energy, sitting up on your knees. “That was- so hot!” You clap your hands happily. Jayce nods his head in agreement. “Your mouth is really intense, [Name].” He holds his dick in his hand like it was a gentle being. 
You snicker, giving yourself a pat on the back at the compliment. “Thank you, I practice everyday.” You then wink over to your boyfriend whose face flushes. “Now, I need to give my baby some attention.” You crawl over to said boyfriend. Pushing him to lay fully on the couch. “Gonna fuck you, soooo good.” You tell him as you straddle his hips.
You grab hold of his leaky cock, it was covered in precum making your hand all sticky. You lowered yourself onto him, your wall fluttering over his inches. “Sooo good!” Your eyes roll into the back of your head. You could never grow tired of his dick. So perfect for your cunt. 
Your hands go to the top of his chest as you fuck yourself on him. Bouncing up and down, one foot planted on the ground as the other is on the couch. Your knee bent near your chest. You had a shorter sofa so it worked beautifully. Your boobs jiggle in front of his face, his lips perfectly latching onto one. 
You hover over his face, watching him suck on your nipple like milk was actually able to come out. You grinned down at him only to ruin his fun by sitting back up, bringing your leg back up on the couch, both knees bent and you held onto them as you widen your stance. Rolling your hips back and forth. 
For a moment you truly forgot Jayce was behind you, watching you fuck yourself on your boyfriend like a slut. “Hah- you’ll get your ch-chance soon, promise~” You look back at him after hearing him grumble something under his breath. 
You keep your position for as long as you possibly could but the straining in your thigh muscles were starting to bother you. You fall to your knees, well adjust yourself. Still keeping Viktor’s dick deep inside you. He pushes himself into a sitting position, you pant against his chest. Holding onto him. “Sorry, one second.” You tell him, perking your ass out a little bit, trying to make yourself more comfortable. 
Jayce was getting impatient now. Having to be a bystander to all the fun the two of you were doing. Without warning he spreads your ass cheeks, you snap back at him. “Huh?” Your eyes were wide. “I need to fuck you.” He admits, no shame though. His dick spurting out precum. Twitching at you as you stared down at it. 
“Okay.” You say, lifting yourself off of Viktor who starts to whine but you shush him. “I have an idea.” You whisper, turning around, sinking back down on your boyfriend's length. You sit down on Viktor, leaning fully back against his chest. “Are you comfortable like this?” You quietly ask him to which he nods, grabbing at your thighs as he understands what you’re doing. 
Your ankles now in the air, and one of your hands traveled down to your pussy, spreading your lips, showcasing everything. “C’mon then.” You smack your own cunt, your fingers brushing against Viktor’s base. He flinches at the touch. Jayce ogles at your already full hole. Wondering how this was going to work. How he was going to fit with Viktor. Instead of taking too long he presses his tip at the top of your hole right on top of his buddy’s dick steadily, painfully slowly pushing himself in. You grit your teeth together, feeling the stretch.  
“Fuckfuckfuckfuck…” You mutter, grabbing onto your boyfriend’s wrists that held your legs up. “Are you okay?” He stops himself mid-way. “Keep going.” You bleat. 
As he’s fully inside you make both of them stay very still. “So full! Holy shit!” You squeal, gawking down at your magical pussy that encased two rather plump cocks. “I’m going to cum if you move at all.” You stare up at Jayce with worried eyes. “Are you sure this is okay?” It was his turn to ask for consent and you nod your head. “I’ll be fine, I just need to adapt.” You huff, leaning your head back for a moment. 
“Okay-” And right at the word Jayce was pumping himself in and out of you. It wasn’t what you were going to say but at this point you weren’t going to stop him as you shrill out, clinging onto Viktor. Viktor’s face hides in your shoulder at the feeling of Jayce’s cock rubbing against his own. “Fuck, so tight.” Jayce grumbles, pistoning in and out of you. 
You let out nonsense babbles, wanting to cry at the sheer pleasure you feel. It was nothing like you’ve ever felt. “Doin so so so good, love.” Viktor tells you, kissing your sweaty skin. Looking over you to watch Jayce’s thrusts. 
Jayce’s mouth wide open as he’s relentless fucking you. 
“How does it feel?” Viktor asks and you shake your head. “I- d-d- Fuck!” You tremble, not able to speak. Your pussy squirts juices onto their dicks, making a mess all over them. 
Jayce only keeps focus on his dick rummaging into you like a meekly little fuck doll. Viktor’s veins add extra fulfillment for him. His brain was mush as all he focused on was getting the three of you to cum. 
“Need you to cum, both of you!” He grunts, pulling you into a kiss before retreating and doing the same to Viktor. Both sloppy and careless. “Almost there!” Viktor whines in response. “Mhm~ m-me… shhhii-” You babbled, not making any sense but they both understood. Jayce’s thumb goes to your clit, the palm of his hand holding onto your lower stomach. Rubbing your nub vigorously, instantly sending you over. Your cunt gushes, outflowing clear fluid drastically. Your pussy pulsating and screaming at the pleasure it’s receiving. You sob, tears streaming down your face as Jayce is still unyielding away from you. 
Sending shock waves through you as your legs shudder and tremble. Viktor crashes next, his thick semen entering you in such a deep manner as it was tucked right against your walls. His tip pushing onto your gummy mushy spot. 
Jayce didn’t stop, his hips ferocious and neverending as he raced to his own high. Overstimulating the both of you. 
His thrusts were finally growing sloppy and slow, his pants were hefty and loud. Full of whines and low grunts all the same time. Finishing inside you, all three of your cum mixing with one another. He easily slips out, your pussy cries at the sudden emptiness, now only having Viktor. 
All your fluids trickled over his cock, pooling onto his pelvis. Jayce was mesmerized. 
The two of you were completely fucked out. Holding onto one another. You lay your legs down slowly but stayed on Viktor. “Jayce… you’re one hell of a- fuck.” You heave out, clutching your chest. “Sorry, I kinda got ahead of myself.” He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. 
“Kinda?” Viktor deadpans. 
“I’m sorry!” He pouts. 
“It’s fine, it was so worth it.” You give a lopsided grin, tiredly staring up at the ceiling. 
Jayce helps you off of Viktor, all the juices flowing down your thighs leaving you to feel utterly dirty. “Let’s get you two cleaned up.” He announces, heading to your guy's shower and starting it. You glance back to your boyfriend who was covering his eyes with his forearm. “I can’t walk.” You tell him, your legs shaking as you stand there. He snorts at you, sitting up. Letting your guys’ cum spill onto the couch. It was a good thing you had covers on it. 
You were definitely going to have to deep clean it. Maybe get new covers. 
Jayce comes back, watching the both of you wobble like newborn giraffes. “Maybe I did go a little too hard.” He frowns, picking you up bridal style. “Stay here Vik, I’ll be back.” He promises your boyfriend who was too exhausted to not listen.
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perlelune · 10 months ago
Text
Young God | Feyd-Rautha
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The mercy you show towards an enemy in the aftermath of battle yields tragic consequences for you and your people.
Warnings: NON-CON, Fremen!Reader, Kynes!Reader, Kidnapping, Unrequited Love, Mentions of cannibalism, Knife Play, Masochism
This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.
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The aftermath of battle is often the same ritual. Corpses are taken away to scavenge for bounty and salvage the water in their bodies. Moisture is too precious, too rare in the air and the dry desert sand covering your home world to be wasted. Harkonnen foot soldiers especially. No sympathy is spared for the cruel beasts who slaughter your fellow fremen, ravage your land, and bleed your beloved home planet Arrakis of its most valuable resource. The Spice. 
Today is one of these days. After fending off another attack by the Harkonnen army, your entire tribe is sifting through the desert fields. The proud white-skinned soldiers weren’t expecting the swarm of Fremen that unleashed upon them. Thankfully Muad'Dib had a vision of the attack and managed to convince enough of your people to raise their blades in unison to stand against their oppressors. While you balk at violence, preferring to stay back and sink into your role as a healer, you still wish to offer assistance in cleaning up the battlefield and checking for any potential injuries. You were a little shocked when you arrived and were struck with the realization that there is so little for you to do, the number advantage having been so overwhelming.
Still, you find a few warriors that require medical attention. Their injuries are deeper than you expect. Apparently one of the Harkonnen soldiers wouldn’t let himself be slain, unleashing a storm of fury all on his own and taking several down with him. You gingerly finish dressing your last wound, lifting your head as you notice your cousin heading north. 
Wiping the blood on your hands with a rag, you get to your feet.
“Chani, where are you going?” you inquire.
She stares ahead, crysknife in hand, determined.
“Some may have survived and slipped away from us. We’re checking the caves nearby.”
You give a nod and follow after her. “I’ll come with you.”
While your voice didn’t waver earlier, your stomach is in knots as you join the search. You and Chani split up. She points in a direction and you acquiesce, rushing the opposite way. You sneak underground, climbing down a row of steep, slippery rocks before you find a small cave.
You practically have to crawl the rest of the way inside, the lichen-draped overhang almost too bent and crooked for you to advance any further. It’s no wonder no one thought to check this place. It’s hard to imagine any wounded Harkonnen soldier gathering the strength to hide in such a place.
You’re forced to swallow your words however when you find the outline of a pale form lying across the cave floor. 
Your jaw drops. You inch closer to the corpse, already planning on calling another Fremen to help you extract the water from the body.
But the man’s chest lifts, his mouth shuddering ever-so-slightly.
Tamping down your fear, you hunker down and inspect his armor. Your brows knit. A long, deep jagged cut slashes his side. The kind of deadly injury that makes you wonder how the man is still breathing, as it’s impossible no internal organs haven't at least been nicked. 
Yet, somehow he is, still breathing that is.
Though you gather not for long based on the way blood gushes from the wound. 
You hear your name called from outside the cave. Pulse soaring, you climb your way out of the concealed shelter with haste. 
You’re faced with Chani’s questioning stare. She must be done with her own search. You note the tinge of crimson on the tip of her blade. Your insides wrench. 
The lie flows from your tongue with frightening ease.
“I already checked that one. It’s empty.”
She nods and walks away. You wait for her to be at a safe distance to return inside the cave.
As your slow, fearful steps bring you closer to the wounded man, your mind rages, at war with itself.
You are of two worlds. Daughter of the fallen Liet-Kynes, imperial planetologist, and a member of the Sietch Tabr. The Harkonnen are your people’s ancestral enemies. Oppressors who annihilate whoever stands between them and their unquenchable thirst for more wealth and power.
They are monsters. There is only one rational thing to do when one is faced with one of the pale-skinned warriors. Only one thing that is right to do.
You unsheathe the crysknife at your thigh from its scabbard. The blade is shimmery and new. So perfectly sharp. For you have never used it. Not even once.
You approach his unmoving form and lift the blade high in the air.
The crysknife in your hands quivers above his chest. It’d be so easy to end it. So quick. Over within a few minutes. You’ve seen countless members of your sietch do it, not a sliver of hesitation in their smooth, practiced motions. Some even enjoy it, reveling in seeing that spark wither in their enemies’ eyes. 
For a moment, you let yourself wonder, picture yourself snugly gripping the blade and driving it through the Harkonnen’s alabaster throat. The watery coughs he’d let out. The blood seeping from his neck and pooling around him. The light in his onyx orbs flickering before going out.
It should satisfy you. After all the evils they’ve inflicted upon your people, upon your planet, the prospect of retribution should fill you with immeasurable joy. 
Yet it doesn’t. Chest heaving, you slowly lower the weapon until it slips out of your hands, its clattering echoing in the cave.
Your shoulders sag as you unleash a tremulous breath, one you didn’t notice was even caged inside your lungs.
An unyielding truth swaddles you as you watch your pale-skinned enemy draw feeble, dwindling breaths. You can’t take a life. You are a healer, through and through.
You gasp when you suddenly feel the cold bite of metal against your throat.
Your eyes widen. The Harkonnen is awake, heavy, wheezing breaths bursting from his chest as he presses the blade against your neck.
“I-If you kill me, you will not survive,” you stammer, your chest clenching in fear. 
He shocks you by flipping the blade and handing it to you.
“Then give me a warrior’s death,” he says, his gaze unwavering. You study him. He looks worse than before. What he just did must have taken his last bit of strength. 
Steadying your hammering heart, you glower at him.
“The glory you seek isn’t in a dank cave, Harkonnen.”
As soon as he collapses over the cold, hard stones, you get to work. First, you check his pulse. Though it’s faint, you find a steady heartbeat. He must be quite strong, you surmise. You’ve never seen anyone survive this long with an injury this deep. Logically, he should be dead. 
But he isn’t. So while you shouldn’t feel this way, every fiber of your being craves to pull him from the brink. 
You peel the layers of his armor off him. Heat nestles inside your cheeks as your gaze roams over the hard, defined planes of his muscular form. You shake off the sensation, reminding yourself that you can’t proceed unless you have complete access to the wound and need to assess for other potential injuries.
You reach for your medpak and pouch. You use a mix of wound sealant and medicinal herbs to curb the bleeding. You then clean the wound with antiseptic and press onto it firmly. Eventually, it stops. Once the bleeding is under control, you pull out a needle and thread from your pouch and begin sewing the wound. Every stitch is nice and neat, so tight that you know he will barely scar. You squint as you work, the dim lighting of the cave making you miss the right spot in his skin a few times. You keep a cool head the entire time, simply starting over whenever necessary.
After the wound is sealed, you set up a hypovial with a plasma bag. Finding the bulging vein in his arm isn’t too hard. It’s quite easy in fact, as every part of him appears carved from stone. You slip a dash of spice melange in the IV. A potent cinnamon smell fills the air. Just the right amount to keep him awake. Now that his life isn’t on the line anymore, his peculiar body chemistry should do the rest and recover.
You unleash a deep breath and wipe the sweat doting your forehead. You sag against the cave wall.
Your eyes drift to the night sky, visible through a small opening in the overhang.
For the first time since you snuck inside the cave, the tension woven through your limbs comes loose.
Nights on Arrakis are a thing of beauty. You are willing to bet there are no more beautiful skies in the entire galaxy. None so clear and vast and with stars twinkling this bright. Mother used to say the same thing, that the boundless empyreans of Arrakis were the most beautiful sight she ever laid eyes upon. And as an imperial envoy, your mother traveled far across the known universe. So she must have been right.
You cast one last glance at the Harkonnen warrior. He’s stable. Or stable enough at least. 
It’s time for you to return to your sietch before too many questions are asked.
“You were gone a while,” your cousin blurts out when you return to your sietch. You weigh her tone. There is no suspicion laced in it, just curiosity.
“I was just making sure we didn’t forget any of them,” you casually reply.
Chani heaves out a deep sigh. “You don’t have to. You have no heart for killing, cousin.” She turns her focus to the rest of your tribe. “We need you here, tending to our wounded. It’s where you shine best.”
You nod in acknowledgement. No one in the sietch ever expected you to fight but you often wish that you could do more. You think of your mother’s untimely death, of the way Fremen laid down their lives today. Your heart sinks. If anyone learned of what you did, you would be exiled. Rightfully so. Your eyes wander to your cousin, now besides Paul Atreides. Longing gazes lock and fingers twine before they disappear into their shared tent. You look away.
You hope one day that twisting inside your chest whenever you see them will cease. You are happy for them; you truly are. Nevermind that you felt a pull towards the heir of House Atreides from the moment you met him, that you felt it was returned when his gaze rested upon you. That all of it vanished the moment his eyes crossed Chani’s.
A seer from your tribe foretold that a woman in your family would have a great destiny, one that will change the fate of worlds. You now understand, that woman is Chani, and she and Paul aren’t just destined to one another. They are fated.
And who are you to stand in the way of fate?
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“You must be insane, girl,” the Harkonnen soldier scoffs as you remove the needle in his arm. Since he appears to have regained some color…or whatever consists of “color” for a Harkonnen, you elected to remove the plasma bag this morning.
A sliver of shame flutters through you that you were almost relieved to find him alive. You saved a life. Perhaps not the most worthy one, but a life nonetheless.
“Striking an enemy while he’s down isn’t brave,” you reply with nonchalance.
A crooked smirk cants his plump lips, baring a hint of the black teeth underneath.
“Insane and stupid then,” he sneers, the gristly echo of his voice resonating in the cave.
Ignoring the way his comment chafes you, you retrieve the little vials you packed this morning.
“Drink that.” He sits up, humming low in his throat with the movement when you’d expect him to wince or groan at the pain. It’s almost like he’s enjoying the pain he surely must be experiencing, but you discard that thought, because it’s ludicrous. What kind of person enjoys pain? “It’s water.” He studies you, making no move to grab the water. You fidget, unnerved that you can’t read his expression, his lack of eyebrows making it even more difficult. “I could only steal a little from the deathstill. It’s all I could get before anyone could see me.”
You briefly considered trading your mother’s water rings, the ones you inherited upon her death. The symbol of her standing and wealth within the Sietch Tabr.
Though while you may have saved your enemy, you want to hold on to that piece of her for as long as you can.
“I also have some food.” You rummage through your pouch to pull out dried fruits, slices of meats, bread and spice honey. It’s the best you could gather on short notice without drawing suspicion.
His dark gaze flicks over you as he taunts, “Perhaps I shall eat you. You look far more appetizing than…whatever this is.” You shudder, acutely aware that while cannibalism isn’t widespread amongst the Harkonnen…it’s also not unheard of. 
He snickers at your expression. “Do not fret, desert rose.” His gravelly voice drips with suggestion as he licks his lips. A chill runs through you as his black tongue and teeth are bared to you. “I’m not quite that hungry…yet.”
Your shift, discomfort slithering through you. There is something profoundly unsettling about the Harkonnen, even more so than a typical one. The blood leaking through the bandage draws your gaze.
“I should dress your wound and redo the stitching,” you offer, clearing your throat.
When your hand stretches towards his wound, he growls at you.
Your heart leaps and you retreat your hand.
“Please,” you insist. “You’re bleeding.”
When he doesn’t make another threatening sound, you take that as your cue. You quickly gather your supplies and approach him. The drumming of your heart inside your ears is a clamor, but you pretend it isn’t there, removing the bandage and driving the needle through his wound to sew it shut again. He doesn’t flinch, showing no hint of even feeling the needle. His sizzling scrutiny sears through your flesh, almost causing your usually steady hands to quake. You sharpen your focus, remembering your grandmother’s teachings. Steady heart, steady hands.
He tilts his head, dark gaze trained on you. “I threaten to eat you and you tend to me still. What a peculiar creature you are, desert rose.”
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The days fly by in a strange haze, your days spent preparing for the new Reverend Mother while you sporadically check on the stranger. He recovers faster than you expect, even without you needing to use the spice melange again. Considering he was at death’s door when you found him, you can’t help but be a little amazed.
You sense the time to go your separate ways is near. You have done a lot, likely more than you should. The alabaster-skinned warrior is well enough to roam the desert and find his way back to his people through his own means. You brought him supplies, food and a stillsuit. Whatever befalls him will be up to fate and his own wits. You don’t plan on returning after tonight.
“You’re looking better,” you note, checking his wound for the last time. You leave the bandage for good measure even if it’s clear he doesn’t need it anymore, the wound having begun to fade since you removed his stitches yesterday.
He pins you with that unsettling stare once more.
“That song you sang…” he rumbles.
“A song?” Your head tilts as you comb through your memories. It comes back to you. You sometimes hum it to yourself. It calms you down. You didn’t even realize you’d done it in his presence. “Ah, that song.” You shrug, a small smile sneaking onto your lips. “It’s just a lullaby my grandmother used to sing to me before she passed, to teach children about the Shai-Hulud.”
He looks at you in what you believe to be confusion at the name, though you can only assume.
“Your people call them… sandworms,” you explain. “They are sacred and should be revered.”
Silence hangs between you and the Harkonnen. His deep raspy voice shatters it after some time.
“Songs…I had a blade in my hands from the moment I could walk.”
“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, unsure what else to say. He doesn’t seem sad, more reflective, but it seems you should say something. “Do you…Do you ever think of what your life would be like if you weren’t Harkonnen?” When he looks at you blankly, a nervous laugh peals from your lips. “I’m sorry. That was a silly question.”
Your crysknife materializes in his hands from behind his back. Your blood runs cold as you pat your thigh. You don’t remember ever leaving it around him.
“My older brother...He took me from our parents when I was a baby,” he utters, sounding detached, almost as if he were recounting someone else’s life. “My uncle raised me. I don’t remember my father. And my mother…” His lightless gaze slams into yours as he smiles, exposing his glistening, black teeth. “I killed that whimpering, meddling bitch.”
Your breath snags in your throat. Perhaps…you let yourself get too comfortable around the Harkonnen. The crude reminder of who he is, who they all are, yanks you back to reality.
You bolt to your feet, coaxing a tremulous smile onto your face.
“It’s getting late. I should return home before the sandstorms grow too strong.”
As you prepare to leave, the muffled pitter-patter of footsteps above you freezes you in your tracks. Your eyes bulge. Dread sinks within you as you realize someone’s right above you.
Before a single sound can make its way past your lips, the Harkonnen’s large hand envelops your mouth. He pulls you flush against his bare chest as he whispers into your ear, “Quiet.”
His muscles go taut against you. You catch him twirling the blade with smooth precision, clearly ready to fight if need be. You hold your breath, bridling your stuttering heartbeats.
Two men in full Harkonnen livery leap inside the cave. Panic rushes through you.
However, instead of a fight breaking out, relief fills the soldier’s faces as they see him. 
“Na-baron. We received your beacon.”
Na-Baron…The air is knocked from your lungs. The title isn’t that common amidst the known universe. In fact, it’s quite unique and you only ever heard of one man from one specific house using it. Na-baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, the heir-designate to Baron Vladmir Harkonnen. 
He is a monster, a ruthless killer…and you nursed him back to health. Allowed him to get well enough to hurt, maim and kill as he pleases. The cave seems to twirl off its axis around you.
Perhaps he was right that night. You might be an insane idiot.
You feel the subtle lift of his lips against your scalp.
“Right. Did I forget to mention my name?” he taunts, as if he could read every thought zooming across your head. Giving you no time to even try to run or fight him off, the na-Baron slams your head against a nearby wall.
Pain explodes inside your skull. Your vision dims as you grow too weak to stand, your knees buckling beneath you. You fall into his arms and he holds you against him. He strokes the side of your face, a fire burning in his onyx orbs. Consciousness slips from you, his last words reverberating inside your ears.
“You and I are going home to Giedi Prime, my desert rose.”
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You awake startled, jarred by the softness of the sheets and the largeness of the bed around you. This is nothing like the cot you used to sleep on in the desert. You leap from the bed, clutching your face and hugging your frame, stunned to note you are without your stillsuit and face mask.
Instead, you are wearing a sheer white tunic that hugs your curves in a way that leaves very little to the imagination. The outfit is unlike you, impractical in every way. Your pulse escalates.
You rush to rise and nearly crash down on the bed again. 
Your forehead creases.
You wobble around, struck by the difference in gravitational pull, humidity and atmospheric pressure. Every breath you take exerts you, bearing heavily on your lungs.
Your head spins as you glance at the unfamiliar room. Every single detail of it is cold, somber, opulent.
Horror twists your insides.
You’re not on Arrakis anymore.
“You’re in the Harkonnen keep, darling.” 
The gravelly voice erupting at your back has you whirl around. A half-exposed Feyd-Rautha fills your sight, his carved alabaster muscles and bald head shimmering silver in the low light.
You swallow hard, fighting to keep yourself breathing normally in the brand new air.
“The Harkonnen Keep on…”
“Giedi Prime, yes,” Feyd-Rautha finishes.
While you understood it on your own, having it uttered out loud sends you in a renewed state of alarm. You are away from your family, your friends, your home. You are alone on a foreign planet. A hostile, enemy planet.
“In secluded apartments away from my other concubines,” he further informs. A shadow of mirth lurks in his gaze. “They’re quite the jealous kind. They may even try to take a bite out of you if they learn of your existence…” He leers at your shivering frame, making no effort to hide his lust, the evidence already bulging in his pants. “Though I don’t think I could entirely blame them.”
He inches closer to you. “How does the weight of a real planet feel?” he asks, a twisted excitement swaying in his dark orbs. “Is it crushing your bones? Is every cell in your body screaming in pain, my desert rose?” He grips your chin, studying you oddly, almost as if he wishes he could absorb every bit of your agony and discomfort.
You glare up at him, your insides white hot with rage.
“H-How could you do this? I saved you.”
He frames your chin, squeezing tightly. “Oh darling, you should have killed me…” A squeak spills from your throat as he drags his tongue across the side of your quivering cheek. His lips brush over your earshell as he mumbles under his breath. “Because there’s nowhere in the galaxy you will ever be able to hide from me now.”
“I belong in Arrakis with my people. You have to let me go,” you plead. 
You search his impassive face, scouring for an errant ounce of humanity. The emptiness you find has tears rushing to your eyes. You mourn the tragic loss of moisture, willing yourself to stop crying. Ever since you were young, you were taught never to waste your precious water...especially on something as trivial, as painfully unnecessary as tears.
...But you can't quell your weeping.
He tilts his head.
“You belong with me…No, to me, desert rose. In my arms, screaming as I ruin that pretty cunt of yours with my cock.”
Fear floods your entire being. Your eyes scan the room. A faint spark of hope blooms inside you as you spot a long, sharp knife on a stone table nearby.
Pushing past the queasiness you experience every time you move on the unfamiliar planet, you race across the room and grab the knife.
You point it at him. Instead of cowering, Feyd-Rautha opens his arms, smirking.
“Do it,” he urges, making no effort to protect himself from the sharp blade in your hand, inviting you to strike him as his tongue darts across his lips.
His uncanny anticipation coats the air. Confusion fills you.
“I will,” you say, trying to appear braver than you feel. Still, the blade quakes in your hand.
“Please. I beg of you,” he purrs, gliding towards you. As he watches you hesitate, he cruelly reminds you, “You will never go home, never see your beloved planet again. In fact,...” He hums, his eyes lighting up as if a wonderful idea just occurred to him. “I think I might slaughter some of your family and friends just for sport.”
A wave of wrath surges through you. Bereft a thought behind it, your hand slashes across his chest, a small cut forming there. Droplets of blood so dark it appears black drip down onto his alabaster flesh. 
“More…” he rasps, pleasure leaking from his gravelly voice.
The sight of the bleeding wound rattles you, causing you to retreat.
But he doesn’t let you remove the blade, his fingers cinching around your wrist and keeping its sharp tip over his bulging pec. You sob as he forces you to drag the blade across his chest, a blissful expression spreading across his features. A long dark cut oozing dark red blood decorates his body now, going all the way to his defined abs.
Terror and confusion tangle within you. You stagger backwards, the dagger slipping from your lingers and hitting the floor.
“You’re sick.”
“I didn’t realize there was such a fire inside you, desert rose. If I don’t have you now, I think I’ll go mad.” His hoarse, lewd tone scrapes against your eardrums, causing your insides to twist in dread. He cracks his neck, black tongue sweeping over his lips as he approaches you. “No, I definitely will.”
It’s the only warning you get before he tosses you on the bed and rips the clothes off your frame. Tears brimming your lashes, you squeal in protest, scratching and punching every part of him within reach. You slap him hard and he cackles, baring his black smile in sheer delight. 
“Come on, desert rose, I’m sure you can hit even harder,” he sneers. 
To make him eat his words, you hit him again. Harder than before. His laugh gets louder as you watch a faint bruise form on his cheek.
Pinning your wrists besides your head, he bends over your chest. His tongue swirls around your nipples, his cool tongue causing you to hiss and shake. Sharp teeth graze your breast and the breath hitches in your throat. You squirm on the sheets, completely at the mercy of Feyd-Rautha as he licks, bites and kisses every part of your flesh. As if he wanted you covered in marks of his ownership, wanted to ensure there wouldn’t be a doubt in anyone’s mind that you were his if they stole a glance at you. You loathe the way your traitorous body writhes and pants, a disgusting dampness gathering at the apex of your thighs. 
The tears in your eyes swell. Your body is divorcing your frazzled mind little by little, yielding to his rough, wanton touch. 
He grabs your thighs and dips between your legs, diving straight for your center. He licks a long stripe up and down your folds and you tremble. As his devilish tongue swirls around your clit, your eyes flutter, blinding pleasure building in your core. Hot waves of delight engulf you as he gathers your arousal with his tongue and drags it around your tender spot. The slow, unrelenting patterns he traces with his mouth have you fight the urge to buck your hips into his jaw. Your juices drench the entire bottom of his mouth, but he doesn’t seem to mind, greedily devouring your cunt as if he’ll never get to do it again.
As you quiver against him, your orgasm flowing through you, he chuckles against your wet cunt.
“Your body can’t even deny how much it craves me, desert rose.”
Shame pulses through you with his words.
He crawls over you, cutting his pants loose with one aggressive shove downwards. Only a glimpse of his thick alabaster cock, glazed with his need at the tip appears in your vision before he shoves the entirety of himself in you. The pain is so intense, flames alongside your walls, that it robs the words from your throat. He sinks inside you until his tight balls chafe your cunt, his hand wrapping around your throat while the other keeps your wrists above your head.
You whimper beneath him, defenseless against his sharp, piercing thrusts. Pleasure builds within you, his cock overwhelming you with shameful sensations each time it grazes your sensitive places, making you see stars. Gargled sounds pour from your throat as his girth splits you apart.
He grunts as your walls constrict around him, slamming into you even harder.
“You’re so delightfully tight around me, darling.” He bends over you to whisper, “I bet I’ll turn you into my perfect little cock-hungry whore in no time. Have you on your back and knees for me whenever I wish it.”
The Harkonnen heir’s pace fastens, his cock hitting spots that have you question your sanity. So delicious that you can’t help but let pathetic little moans escape from your throat.
He buries himself inside you even deeper, the pain and pleasure blending in crescendo. Your eyes roll back as you near your peak. Meanwhile, Feyd Rautha’s hunting his own release, his quick thrusts growing sharp and slow, his bald head grazing your bare chest.
Pleasure rolls over in a tidal wave, your back curling alongside the sheets. His own release comes after yours, thick ropes of his seeds painting your sore, sensitive walls. 
As you crash in a boneless heap on the sheets, he wraps his hand around your jaw and steals your lips for a sloppy, heated kiss. 
You cry out in pain as he sinks his teeth into your neck, placing a visible puncture wound that won’t disappear for a while.
Still nestled in your warmth, he scatters more bites along your shoulder.
“Any man would be insane to let you go after tasting such a sweet cunt, desert rose.”
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You know he wants you to see, doesn’t want you to miss a single second of the spectacle. It was a split second moment, one that could have easily resulted in his death. 
But at the very last second, Feyd-Rautha prevailed and dodged Paul Atreides’ attack. He then proceeded to stab him in the heart in front of his heartbroken mother and your cousin. 
You don’t want to believe it. It must be an awful dream, one you will soon wake up from. One that lasted entirely too long. While seeing Paul’s body sink to the floor, your heart shattering into a million tiny pieces…Watching Chani glare at you with pure hatred in her eyes from across the room is almost worse. You want to run to her, embrace her, tell her you never meant to leave, tell her you aren’t a traitor to your people despite what clothes you may wear now, what marks may brand your skin. 
But it’s all for naught. Paul is dead and with him the hopes for your planet, for your people have died as well.
And you are left with nothing, no one. A stranger in a strange world. 
It’s what he reminds you as he has you caged beneath him that night, burying himself inside you again and again with abandon. 
“You’re mine, desert rose. And nothing, no one can take you away from me. Not my uncle. Not Paul Atreides. Not the Emperor.” He chuckles darkly, whispering against your ear. “...And not even you, darling.”
He is right. You are his. And with no one to challenge the rule of the now Baron Feyd-Rautha, ruler of House Harkonnen, it is as he said…There is nowhere in the galaxy you can hide where he will not find you.
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templeofelysium · 4 months ago
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worshipping the chthonic gods
first, a note on cthonic vs ouranic: the line between these gods is one that is not really as stark as it can be portrayed. many gods have both ouranic and chthonic aspects, and neither make them any more "good" or "bad" than the other. chthonic gods are not evil gods, at least no more than any ouranic god. all deities have the capability of doing good and evil, but are largely ambivalent in nature. the advice listed below is not set in stone, simply provided as gentle guidance. if you have suggestions, feel free to add them in the comments/reblogs! :)
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LIBATIONS/OFFERINGS
In Ancient Greece it was very common for offerings to the chthonic gods to be given in the form of libation--a drink (or any liquid) poured into the ground. Solid offerings, like food, were often burned in their entirety to ash or left to rot, instead of being partially shared by the offeror. Incense was not as commonly used since the smoke travels upwards, towards the heavens.
I suggest disposing of/keeping ashes and rotted food outside or burying them, seeing as chthonic sometimes refers to "-of the earth." This would be similar to how curse tablets were treated in Ancient Greece, as Hermes, messenger of the gods, would deliver them unto their underworld-ly receiver from there.
If you can't do that, consider pouring your libations down the sink or flushing them down the toilet (ONLY do this with water-based liquids, oil and honey will clog up your sink in no time flat). It's not ideal, but it gets the job done.
Common libations include: coffee, blood (animal or your own, we'll get to that at the end), honey (instead of wine), milk
Common offerings include: meat, barley/grain, oil, cheese
PRAYER
In many cases, prayers to ouranic deities are directed upwards, into the sky or delivered unto the wind by voice, song, or some sort of poem. In the case of the chthonic gods, we should be directing them downwards, towards the underworld where they reside. This may include extending your hands with palms facing down, putting your head down, or just imagining your prayers being sent below. The only exceptions to this may be Persephone, who resides in the heavens for half of the year, and Hermes, who can be considered both ouranic and chthonic.
Other recommendations I can make are: light a candle, even if you're not going to use it for pyromancy; light some incense (I do this for focus and cleansing, not so much for the deity); and perform it at night. It's not mandatory, of course, to perform your prayers at night, it's just that in antiquity ouranic activities (festivals, prayer, etc.) were done during the day and often directly enshrouded in sunlight. We can assume, therefore, that a chthonic prayer or festival should occur during the night, especially if being directed towards Hekate or Nyx.
ALTARS/SHRINES
In Ancient Greece, temples to the ouranic gods were constructed so that their doorways would directly face the sun, thus illuminating the inside (and often the main statue(s), too). We can assume, then, that our chthonic altars/shrines should be located somewhere out of the direct sunlight. This can be in a dark spot, like a closet or isolated room--or it can just simply be in a corner furthest from the sun's rays.
Again, there may be some exceptions to this: Hermes, under his ouranic epithet(s), Persephone, for her time in the heavens, and Hekate, for her association with the moon.
DIVINATION
For the most part divination with the chthonic gods is conducted in much the same way as with the ouranic. Of course, when calling upon these deities you'll want to face towards the ground, and perhaps even conduct these sessions in partial darkness. Again, maybe you could light a candle or even pour a libation before a really big reading.
I mostly use pendulums and tarot, but I've been experimenting with meditation and have had some luck. What works for ouranic deities should work just as good for chthonic, you just might have to shift your approach a little.
Some good tarot spreads for working with chthonic deities:
"Fork in the Road" spread-- for Hermes or Hekate
"The Tower" spread-- for Hermes or Hades
"The Self Exploration" spread-- for any
"The Bat" spread-- for Hades or Persephone or Nyx
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EXTRAS
--Consider offering blood if you're able! Animal blood that is sourced from ethical farms is neither morally reprehensible or illegal and can be sourced from a variety of places. Offering your own blood is also a possibility, but for this I would not recommend more than a pinprick. There are limits to how much pain you should be incurring on yourself for your deities. If you have to check your blood sugar often, maybe you can soak up excess blood with some cotton and bury it outside. Make sure to always clean your wounds properly and do not engage in this behavior for the purpose of self-mutilation. That, I can assure you, your deities would not appreciate. Don't be stupid.
--Snakes are commonly associated with almost all chthonic deities, or just the Underworld in general. We see this the most with Hermes, who is pictured with two snakes wrapped around his caduceus. The god Asclepius is also pictured with a staff with a single snake on it. Asclepius is the god of medicine, and (before being deified) was killed by Zeus for making people practically immortal.
--Chthonic deities are the best places to turn to for spirit work, protective, and baneful magic. You're looking to contact a spirit? Turn to Hades. You're looking for protection against spirits/demons? Turn to Hekate or Hermes. You're looking to cast a curse? Turn to Persephone or Hekate.
dividers by @vibeswithrenai
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dontopenfairies · 3 months ago
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“So, you want a diaper again tonight?” she asks, rising from her chair and gathering their plates off the table. She’d managed to convince him to wear for the last three nights, lying with her legs wrapped around him on the couch while they watched cartoons on the TV.
“It’s not like I *want* to wear it,” he says. She can’t see him from her position at the sink but she can imagine his expression, that little frown and pouty lip he gets when he’s indignant. “I’m just doing it because you wanted me to.”
“And because it’s snuggly and warm and nice,” she says, rubbing their plates down with the soapy sponge. She leaves the forks at the bottom of the sink. He can deal with those tomorrow.
“I don’t really think that. I just said that…like…in the moment…”
“Uh-huhhh…and after we fucked later that night and you came it didn’t seem that way anymore?” She turns on the tap and rinses the dishes.
“Well, yeah, that’s what I told you that morning…”
“Uh-huh. So it was a coincidence you were so incredibly horny when I took your diaper off?”
“I mean…I mean, um, you just looked really pretty that night!”
“That sounds like a silly excuse. I’m pretty every day.” She slides the plates into the dish rack and comes back over to the table. “And you wanted one again the next night, soo…”
“I never said I wanted one!! You just put me in it! You didn’t even ask!”
“I didn’t need to ask. You didn’t protest at all. In fact, you helped me get your pants down. Do you remember that? Do you remember sliding your fingers into the waistband of your jeans and helping me pull them down?” She reaches around behind him and slips her fingers under his shirt, running them across his skin just under his belt. Her hands are cold. He shivers. “Hmm, that’s getting you excited, huh?”
He raises his hands, ready to grab hers and push them away, but then he hesitates.
“I’m going to go change, okay, baby?” She leans in close to his ear. “I’ll bring a diaper for you to the couch again. If you want it, be sitting nicely on the couch when I get back. If you don’t, you can stay in here or go play games in our room. It’s up to you.” She plants a kiss on his ear and gives his sides a final rub before removing her hands from under his shirt.
Now he sits at the table, anxious thoughts overlapping in his mind. If he goes and sits on the couch, is she going to put a diaper on him automatically again? Or is she going to make him tell her he wants it? He doesn’t want it, of course, he’s just playing along with her…It only felt good because he was really tired. It wasn’t the kind of thought he’d have wide awake. Of course not.
He listens for a moment and he can hear her opening the drawer to the dresser. He’s starting to have to pee a little bit. Does he have time to make it to the bathroom before she’s done?
He hears the dresser drawer close and he knows he has very limited time. He stands up and slowly pushing his chair in. He hesitates again, about to sit firmly back down and stay there and finish his tea and ignore her until bedtime…but then something mechanical in his legs takes over and he’s walking to the couch, eyes ahead, looking at nothing.
He sits down and folds his knees up to his chest.
“There you are,” she says from behind him. She’s wearing red and white checkered pajamas and holding the diaper and a pair of his pajama pants behind her back. As she sits down, her shirt rides up a little and he sees a white waistband sticking out. So she’s wearing, too.
“How come…um…you have one on again?”
She sighs. “You’re trying to be nice, now, huh?”
“Um…I don’t know what you mean.” He chews on his fingernail. He definitely knows what she means.
“I know I was acting like it wasn’t a big deal,” she says, looking at the ground, “but when you were calling me disgusting it kind of hurt my feelings. I didn’t want to wear in front of you for a couple days. I’m sorry, I know that’s stupid.”
“No, no, I—I’m sorry! I’m really sorry. I won’t call you that again.” He pushes himself up on his hands and gets closer to her.
“Thank you. It was honestly really hypocritical…considering what you’re about to let me do to you!” She moves suddenly, turning and pushing him down onto the couch with a thump. He lets out an involuntary giggle at the sudden movement.
“Oh, you like this, huh?” she says, smoothing the front of his pants with the heel of her hand. He tries to keep his mouth shut but a weird whimper-squeak comes out anyway and he can feel his body trembling as she unzips his fly and slowly eases his pants down.
“Aww, lifting up your hips all by yourself, without me even prompting you.” She slides the diaper under him and gently pushes his pelvis down, strong hand on his hip. The material of the diaper is so soft. He tries not to shift his hips to feel it rubbing against his bottom. Stay still. Stay still.
She pulls the diaper through his legs and tapes him up. He has one hand up by his mouth, rubbing his fingers against his lips and teeth. She silently pulls his pants to his ankles and over his feet, and then rolls up the legs of his pajama pants and eases them on. “Help me out again, baby, and lift up your diapered ass. I know you’re distracted by how good it feels, but just do that for me.”
Once he’s all changed, she pulls him up off the couch and reaches for the remote. He falls onto her, leaning against her side with his head on her shoulder. “Do you want to finish the episode from last night? I paused it when you fell asleep.”
“Okay,” he says in a whisper.
Halfway through the remainder of the episode, she rubs her feet together. “I’ve gotta pee, bad,” she says, turning to smirk at him. “I’m just going to go, is that okay with you?”
“Um, what? I—I guess—”
She puts a finger on his lips. “I don’t know why I asked you. You don’t have a choice.” She slouches back against the couch and he can hear the familiar hiss of pee coming from her diaper. Then the sound stops.
“Do you want to feel it coming out?” she asks. He doesn’t answer. She reaches for his hand and guides it down under the elastic waistband of her pants. She briefly presses on his middle finger, dragging it over the crotch of her diaper, the way she helps him finger her, before letting it rest, cupping her right between her legs. The hissing starts up again, slowly at first and then faster. “Can you feel it getting warm? Is your diaper getting tighter?”
He’s mad because it is. And all of this is reminding him of the building pressure in his own bladder.
“Are you going to go, too, tonight, do you think?”
“I—I don’t know if I’m ready for that,” he mutters.
“Not ready yet, huh? So that means it is gonna happen someday.” She pulls his hand back out of her pants and he whines, wanting to touch her just a little longer, even if the diaper is in the way.
She pushes him back against the couch again, and kisses him slowly. Then she rests her head next to his, in the crook of his shoulder. Her weight is pressing on his belly, and he can really feel it on his bladder…
“Okay,” he says quietly, voice shaking. “You win. I’ll admit it. I want to…um…you know. I want to use it.”
She kisses his neck.
“Will you…um…will you show me how?”
“There isn’t just one way, silly,” she says, rising and pulling him up. “Here, sit like this, like me. Okay, now focus. Imagine you’re sitting over the toilet. You reallyyy have to pee. Close your eyes and picture it.”
He obliges, trying to imagine the cold, hard seat under him. To his surprise, he feels a tiny bead of warm liquid forming at the end of his penis. Oh my god, it’s going to be difficult to pull it back in. A small spurt escapes him.
“Are you going yet?” she asks.
He nods. It’s becoming a stream now, and he can feel the diaper getting warm and heavy, pee spreading out across the padding. It’s a new feeling, and it feels really wrong. The pee should be going somewhere, it shouldn’t stop right away like this. He’s actually *wetting a diaper* at his big age. Oh my god, that’s so dirty…he hears the little whimper-squeak again from somewhere far away.
“Hold it,” she says. “I really want you to go on my lap. And you’re going so much, I don’t want to miss it.” She grabs him by the hips and pulls him onto her, legs out towards the arm of the couch, perpendicular to hers. “Good. Keep going.”
The end credits of the cartoon are playing and he is peeing in his girlfriend’s lap. He already has a nagging feeling that he is going to really regret this tomorrow, but right now he just feels sleepy and warm and comfortable. She crosses her arms over him and pulls him closer. He feels his eyes closing.
“Let’s see how far we can go with this…” she says softly. Or was that the very beginning of his dream?
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yellowharrington · 10 months ago
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wildflower and barley -- joel miller x reader
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pairing + fandom: joel miller x reader, the last of us (hbo)
word count: 5k+ oops
warnings/notes: smut smut smut!!! minors DNI, 18+!!! no outbreak!au. age gap (it's implied reader is in her 20s while joel is 45) and mentions of joel being kinda perverted and liking it lol. drinking (both reader and joel, not excessive), use of a dating app like tinder but not specified, unprotected PIV w creampie and oral (m+f receiving), do not fuck your tinder hookups without protection i'm just horny and gross. excessive use of darlin' as a nickname. implied that reader likes men. she/her pronouns used, afab!reader (with mentions of body parts), no use of y/n. if i missed anything lmk!
a/n: heavily inspired by this post by @yesttoheaven about joel's tinder profile!! it has been rotting my brain since i saw it which literally inspired me to write my first fic in the tlou fandom ever so please be gentle with me. i imagined show!joel because i've never played the game so do with that what you will. please reblog and leave comments if u enjoy it <3333
divider by @cafekitsune
summary: after deciding to change your age range on a dating app in hope of a change of scenery, you stumble across joel miller.
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No one likes using dating apps.
Swiping left, left, left mindlessly at troves of men holding fish, showing off their trucks, or with deer heads mounted to the walls behind their selfies holding guns.
This was Texas, after all.
Having just moved here, it was a little shocking, to say the least. But you were getting used to the “eligible” bachelors that were your age generally looking and acting the same. When you did end up finding someone of interest, you were usually turned off pretty quickly by whatever shitty pick-up line they had chosen. Or, your personal favourite, “wanna fuck?”
No thanks.
It was an idyllic summer evening, the hot stuffy air of Austin flowing in through your windows. You laid in bed, propped up on the pillows against your headboard and sorting through the faces that adorned your screen. No one particularly interesting, as usual, and every profile was starting to melt together to look the same.
You sighed, looking into your settings, adjusting and increasing different metrics to hopefully change the pool just enough for there to be someone new or interesting. 
Age range: 25-30
Your eyebrow cocked as you looked onto the screen, pulling the slider more to the right experimentally. No one was here to see you, and even though it was slightly embarassing to be interested in older men, you’d be lying if you said it didn’t pique your interest to imagine it. Even just to try, and see, if they ever really did grow up. You imagined it was wishful thinking, but increased the range anyways.
Age range: 35-45
Feeling the need to throw your phone across the room after doing that, you placed it face down under your pillow and slid out of bed. No use in swiping through them now, and you were getting tired of looking. A pint of Ben and Jerry’s and a new episode of your favourite show was waiting for you downstairs.
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾
Joel Miller does not use dating apps.
He barely knows how to send a text on his phone, let alone navigate the world of online women. Not to say he didn’t explore the options, so to speak, but they usually were not ones that were single, his age, and in his area. Unless the ads on those sites were real, that is.
“It’s starting to get sad,” Sarah had remarked at breakfast, when they got on the topic, and Joel feigned hurt. Hand over his heart, he dropped his fork onto the plate. “It’s not sad, Jesus. I’m just busy, is all.”
“Busy not gettin’ busy,” Sarah remarked, and Joel’s eyes widened. “Hey now! None of that.”
A blush spread up his cheeks and ears as they continued to eat breakfast in slightly awkward silence, before Joel took his plate to the sink. “Okay, off to school, you. And no more conversations about my dating life. Ever.”
Sarah laughed as she finished off the last of the juice in her glass. “I’m just saying, dad. You can if you want to. Might be nice for you.”
Joel planted a soft kiss to her head before she bounded out the door, rolling his eyes and calling out a ‘love you’ before she closed the door swiftly behind her. Joel stared at his cell phone on the table. Maybe it would be nice.
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾
The following evening, you were a little too excited to see the dating app specimens you had acquired. Not sure what to expect, really, and you went in with no expectations. It’s not like they’d magically all be tall, dark, and handsome, but some variety never killed anybody.
Paul, 41
Daddy, but not yours. No libs allowed. 6’ because that matters.
You sighed deeply. Some things never change. 
After swiping through much of what you were used to, a profile managed to catch your eye among the sea of disappointment.
Joel, 45
Just a Southern gentleman trying this out for the first time. Contractor of over 10 years. I love my daughter, BBQ, strong coffee, and sleeping in. 
Now that was the most interesting thing you’d seen in a while.
He didn’t look a day over 40. His eyes creased at the corners when he smiled wide in his photos. He looked tan, a product of the Texas heat and his job, you thought. His features were accompanied by salt-and-pepper facial hair and messy curls that looked soft and pliable. His photos showed off his physique incredibly, tight wash-worn t-shirts pulling over his arms and shoulders, looking big, broad. He was no doubt the most handsome man you’d seen on an app, maybe ever.
When you swiped right before you could think too hard, you were surprised to see the green “Match!” Flash across your screen.
Your fingers ghosted over the keyboard on your phone, thinking of a witty thing to say, probably for too long.
Your phone buzzed as you saw a notification pop up.
Joel has sent you a message.
Hey, darlin’. How are ya?
You felt your face warm at the sweet message, when was the last time someone had called you darlin’? Ever?
Hey cowboy. I’m great, how are you?
He was certainly an eager responder, taking only a few seconds to reply. You found yourself smiling down at your phone screen.
Cowboy… I like that. I’m better now that I’m talking to you.
Oh, Joel, who told you to say that? 😂
No good?
Not bad. 6/10. 
Only 6/10? I’ll work on it. I like to think I’m better in person. 
I would love to find out. 
You found yourself emboldened by how easy the conversation was flowing. Joel was certainly easy to talk to, easier than the other matches you had going for you, and infinitely more handsome.
Oh, would you? Alright. I’d love to take you to dinner sometime. If you don’t mind being seen with an old man such as myself in public. Or meeting a stranger from the internet.
He’s a very handsome stranger. I would love to go to dinner with you. Know any good spots? I’m new around here.
There’s a great barbecue spot in downtown Austin. If you’d prefer something fancier, let me know.
I love bbq. Just tell me where and when, cowboy.
Tomorrow, 7pm ok?
You sent him your phone number in the message. Fuck it.
Sounds great. Text me the address, I’ll be there. :)
Joel’s reply didn’t come. Instead, a text appeared at the top of your screen with an unknown number. 
It’s Joel. This the right number?
Yup. You found me.
Great. Talk tomorrow sweetheart. Looking forward to it. :)
He texted you the address of the restaurant, right before you opened the contact card, saving his name as “cowboy ♡”.
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾
Cowboy. Cowboy. Cowboy. It was playing over in his head like a broken fuckin’ record. 
Joel was positively freaking out about this date.
Sarah had managed to secure a sleepover at her friend’s place, so the house would be empty for the night. He had been busying himself with cleaning the entirety of the house, even taking the time to mow the grass before work and vacuum the family room. He can’t remember the last time he vacuumed anywhere.
Would she even make it back here? How does this work? Will she want to sleep over or hang out on the couch or should he be making a dessert for after?
His mind was brought out of it’s craze by Sarah jumping down the stairs. She plopped her bag down on the freshly wiped countertop.
“Careful,” he warned, putting a hand up. “I just cleaned that off.”
“I can tell. It smells like the cleaning aisle threw up in here.”
He smirked before patting her head with his hand, as she aggressively smoothed out her hair. “Dad! Don’t!”
“When do you wanna go to Ellie’s?” He asked, more gaging how long he has left to get ready than actually asking.
“Probably soon. Why? Tryna get rid of me?” she poked her dad in the side, but when she flinched away instead, a large smile spread across her face. He was tense.
“What’s your deal?” Joel hated the way she knew him so well sometimes.
“Nothing.“
“Are you going on a date?”
Silence fell over the kitchen between the two of them, as Joel’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “How did you know?”
“Oh my god, you actually took my advice,” Sarah laughed, watching her dad’s face burn red with embarrassment. “Just don’t do anything weird on communal surfaces, please.”
Joel shook his head at her suggestion, already becoming annoyed with the whole prospect. He was so nervous, about what to wear, how to act, what the expectation was… let alone, what would happen if they made it back to his place at all. 
Although, when he was able to shake his nerves for a second, he was just really fucking excited.
“Wear those dark jeans, and that green shirt you wore to Tommy’s last week. Looks good on you.” Sarah smiled as she put her arms around Joel’s middle, while his worries melted away with her touch. “She’ll love you, I promise.”
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾
It had been such a long time since you’d been on a proper date, you were starting to lose your mind at the simple process of deciding what to wear.
Clothes were strewn across every surface of your apartment, shoes matching with jeans that matched with cardigans, tops that matched with belts and jackets.
It’s 87 degrees at 5 o’clock, idiot. You’re not wearing a jacket. Relax.
Exhausted of picking out outfits and making decisions, you collapsed on your couch and took a look at your options. You landed on an easy sundress, putting the rest of your clothes back in their respective drawers, and pulling out all of the products you were expecting to use to get ready.
You scrolled through your phone aimlessly as a notification bubble popped up on the screen.
We still on for tonight darlin’? Or did you change your mind?
No worries if you did. I respect that.
You let out a cackle at the message, thinking about how he must look right now. Was he nervous? Scared? Was he just looking for a controversially young fuck?
You weren’t… completely against that.
Didn’t change my mind, wouldn’t in a million years :)
Meet you there. Can’t wait to see you.
His eagerness to meet up would’ve been a red flag if it were any other run of the mill guy, but something about Joel felt special. There didn’t seem to be any funny business with him; too sincere to try anything other than just a good old fashioned date.
You too, cowboy.
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾
When Joel showed up at the restaurant, he clenched a small bouquet of pink peonies in his right hand and checked his watch obsessively. The minutes ticked away, as he kept a high alert for anyone who could be his potential date. He knew what you looked like, of course, but this being his first time doing anything of this sort is making him hyperaware of anything going awry.
When he does lay eyes on you, his whole gaze softens. A pink sundress, hair pristinely styled and a bounce in your step that reminded him of summer. You looked like an angel, the sunset behind you painting the sky tangerine, which reflected off of the shine against your supple skin. So young, beautiful, it was taking his breath away.
“Joel?”
Your voice matched your sweet demeanour, and he was taken out of his waking daydream.
“Hi,” is all he can say, letting his breath out as he relaxed. “Yes, hi, sorry. I’m Joel.”
“Hi,” you laugh back, eyes darting to the flowers in his hand. They matched your dress.
“These are for you,” he gets the hint, extending his arm out, and you can see the veins bulging in his forearm. He looked so much stronger in person, it was making your knees go weak.
“Thank you, wow,” you held them up to your nose to smell the sweet aroma. “I love peonies.”
“Me too,” he smiled, showing off a string of pearly white teeth, that contrasted with the pink of his lips and the even tan of his skin.
“Shall we?” He extended his arm to you for you to grab onto, and you got to feel the warmth of his skin for yourself. Your hand wrapped around his forearm as he opened the door of the restaurant for you, leading you inside and catching a glimpse of the backs of your thighs as you walked in front of him.
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾
When you were finally sitting, the conversation flowed easily. He was truly a Southern gentleman, like he had said. It wasn’t normal for you to open up so quickly, but Joel was so easy going and smart, he asked the right questions and knew when to listen. He knew how to listen, a warm gaze and a nod along, asking follow up questions to your answers and easily getting to know you.
You asked about his daughter, his family, his work. He was happy to tell you. 
“So, what’s a man like you doing being single in this city?” You take a sip of the wine in the glass in front of you, burgundy staining your bottom lip. 
He takes a bite of the food in front of him, a napkin pressing to his lips quickly after. “Been busy,” he started to say, honey brown eyes meeting yours for a second. His gaze sent an electrifying pulse down your spine.
“And, well, when Sarah’s mom left there was a ton to do,” he says it nonchalantly, as if that should be something normal to happen. “House, work, school, she keeps my hands full. Hasn’t been a lot of time.” His syrupy drawl is pulling you in, you’re enticed by the way he speaks to you. So easy, warm, soft. You wonder what his hands feel like on your body, lips pressed to your neck, torso pressed against yours.
“Sorry, that’s a lot of information for a first date,” he laughs to cover the awkwardness, and quietly curses himself for going into so much detail about his precarious family situation and basically admitting to you that he hasn’t fucked anything other than his hand in the last 5 or so years.
“No, it’s okay,” you slide your hand across the table, palm up, urging him to slot his hand into it. He takes it, easily, enveloping yours. His fingers find the pulse point on your wrist. You let your eyes drift up to his, drinking in the way his chest fills out the shirt he chose.
“What’s your story?” He asks earnestly, giving your hand a squeeze. “Can’t imagine there isn’t a long line of people outside waiting to take my place, darlin’.”
You blush furiously at the nickname, and let your eyes meet his once again. “You have no idea the… mess that is out there,” the wine is calling your name to take another sip at the mere thought, but you refrain. “Certainly not too many I am interested in.”
“So, is that why you’re on a date with an old man on a beautiful summer night in Austin?”
You could tell Joel, in a twisted way, liked that you were younger than him. It made him feel younger by admission, that you’d want to spend time with him. 
“You’re not that much older,” you laugh, not even believing it yourself as the words left your lips. “And I like to try new things. Don’t you like trying new things, sometimes?”
It was his turn to let his face go red at your insinuation. If only you knew how ‘new’ this really was for him, how much he was pushed out of his comfort zone right now.
You didn’t notice. 
A little more polite small talk and exchanging of stories was all you could take before the tension was becoming too much. After another glass of wine and a shared plate of sky-high chocolate cake for dessert, you were enjoying his company and could tell he was enjoying yours all the same. When you met his gaze again, hands still intertwined, you could tell there was a question on the tip of his tongue.
“Would you want to…“ - a nervous pause, with a halo of lust - “come back to mine for a nightcap? I’ve got an empty house this evening.”
You couldn’t help but smirk, knowing in your heart that Joel must’ve made arrangements for his family not to be home in anticipation. He had to have planned for you, known in his heart you’d say yes.
“I’d love that.”
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾
Joel’s home is unmistakably him. It smells like a pine candle that sits near the front door and a faint aroma of laundry detergent. There’s photos everywhere, him and his daughter, his brother’s family. Big windows were letting in the twinkling lights of the city outside, the inky sky making them look brighter against its canvas.
“You have a beautiful home,” you say, although it seems a little formal for the situation. What else do you say to a grown-up in their house?
“Thank you,” he takes a bottle of whiskey from the bar cart and pours two rock glasses, handing you one. He flicks on a lamp, ambient light filling the room and painting his skin amber orange, as he joins your side by his kitchen table.
“I did a lot of the construction myself, the decorations are my daughter.” He points lazily to the trinkets on the shelves and photos on the wall. “I don’t really have a good eye for that type of stuff.” 
You take a sip from the drink and it coats your throat, burning down as you suppress a cough at the taste. You nod along as he explains the design choices he made in the home, and you play along, knowing it’s likely out of anxiety.
“What about upstairs?”
Your eyes are innocent as they meet his, although you understand the implication you’re making whole-heartedly. He puts his glass down on the kitchen table and you follow his lead, his strong hand around your wrist as he leads you up the stairs wordlessly.
“It’s not anything,” - he clears his throat - “special,” he shows you around the second floor, finishing at the door of his bedroom that has been left slightly ajar. 
You step in quietly, leading him inside as you take in the bedroom. Neatly folded clothes, a made bed that looks well loved. Blue sheets and fluffy pillows, big bay windows that let the moonlight in.
“I think it’s nice,” you say simply, letting yourself turn around to meet his broad frame. He looks down at you slightly, eyes meeting yours as your hand drops from his grasp and snakes around his neck. His hands come up the sides of your dress, pulling it up slightly, but landing on your waist.
“Is this okay?” He asks tentatively in the dark of the room, his lips so close to yours already you can practically taste the whiskey on his lips for yourself. You answer him by pressing your tentative lips to his, slotting them together easily.
Joel’s grip on your waist tightens momentarily as he takes you in, pulling you as close as he possibly can. He can smell the perfume on your neck and the wine on your lips from earlier, and it’s making his need for you increase tenfold. 
You pull him into you as you stumble back to let your knees hit his mattress, sitting down and letting your hands come to his belt buckle. Your hands came to undo it as he pulled his t-shirt off to throw onto the floor beside him, bending down to help you pull the dress over your shoulders to meet his t-shirt.
You made quick work of his jeans, pushing them to the ground and looking up at him with a keen glance. You could see the breath making his belly rise and fall, anticipating your touch on him any second.
When your hand wrapped around the base of his cock, his breath hitched and his head rolled back. He was already half-hard only from kissing you, so a few pumps made him easily ready for your mouth.
“You’re so big,” is all you can think to say, head spinning from the sheer size of him right in front of your face. Your mouth watered at the way his hand palmed through your hair, pulling you in closer to him for some relief.
It was intoxicating to him, the way your mouth fit around his cock. Such a beautiful sight to see, your head licking and sucking at his tip, gathering spit there to lubricate him. His knees were going weak as he watched intently, no thought able to cross his mind, other than maybe how long it had been since he’d had anyone to do this with. He was going to have to pace himself if it was all like this.
Your mouth constrained around the length of him, taking him deeper and deeper with every bob of your head. Filthy sounds were filling the room now, of your eager mouth pulling him in as best you could. His hand stayed steady at the back of your head, not pushing, just softly pressed there for support. His other hand found your shoulder, pushing down your bra strap.
“God, darlin’,” was all he could choke out, using his hand to pull you off of him. Your hand lazily stroked him as you looked up at him, spit collecting at the corners of your mouth. “I’m not gonna last long if you keep doin’ that,” his laugh eased some of the tension in the room, as you took your other hand and wiped the spit away.
He leaned down, pressing a fervent kiss to your lips before using his own hands to unclasp your bra and let your breasts free. His lips traveled to the side of your neck, before he was kneeled down between your legs, sucking your nipple into his mouth. He lapped at you, all consuming, as his hand came up to grasp the other breast that wasn’t being serviced. He moaned at the noises you were making, lewd whines into the night air that only encouraged him. 
His lips made their way down your body to your clothed centre, your back against his soft sheets. You looked down at him intently, watching as he pulled your panties down your legs and immediately delved into your pussy with broad strokes of his tongue.
Your body jerked upwards at the contact, hand fisting the sheet beside you as he lapped at you, like a man starved. His expert tongue found your clit easily, sucking and licking at you for what felt like hours. You thought about his heavy cock between his legs, begging to be touched, hard as ever as he licked at you desperately.
“Joel,” you whined out, feeling your hand reach down to grab at his curls and push him deeper into you. That only made him moan, one hand lazily fisting his cock as the other came up to dip a finger into you, allowing you to see stars when you screwed your eyes shut.
His fingers were so large, pressed into your core as you fucked yourself on them and his tongue in tandem. He was groaning and grunting, and you hoped his neighbours couldn’t see into the window at the desperate filth that was going on in his bedroom.
“Fuck, Joel, please,” you begged, but he had no mercy, and your orgasm was creeping up on you. He was ready to watch you come undone, pushing a second finger into you and furiously sucking on your clit. His other hand left his own pleasure and wrapped around your breast, pressing and playing with the hard nub there, pinching to provide a little bit of sting to it. It was sending you into another dimension.
“Come for me, sweetheart,” and his voice is gravely and debauched, enough to send you into your first orgasm, chanting his name and pulling on his hair. He was happily licking at you, fingers still pressing in and out as to not mess up the rhythm, as you rode out your orgasm against his face. 
When you started to come down, he finally detached himself from you before standing up between your legs and pressing his broad palms to your thighs. He stayed there for a moment, cock still hard and heavy between his legs as you gazed up at him, out of breath from his work.
“You’re really good at that,” was all you could think to say, head clouded with arousal. You moved up on the bed a little, opening your legs and pressing your knees apart to show your pussy to him again.
“Please fuck me, Joel,” you breathe out, letting your hand find your own clit to rub it teasingly for him. It was still so sensitive, but the way he was looking down at you, eyes dark and stormy with need, you could almost come again just from that.
He put a knee down on the bed and crawled on top of you, his lips finding yours once again as your hands found his face. You held him there, savouring the kiss as his tongue crashed against yours, all warmth and spit and the taste of you. His hand found your breast and continued to play with your nipples, softly, coaxing more moans into his mouth from yours.
He leaned back and slipped his cock inside of you, filling you up immediately and making you gasp. He groaned into the side of your neck, tonguing the side of your ear and kissing you feverishly as he pumped in and out of you.
Your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him impossibly close, your moans filling the room as he rocked in and out of you. He kissed your jaw and chest, before reaching down between your bodies and pressing his thick finger to your clit again, using the wetness there to draw circles around your sensitive nub.
“So pretty,” he smiles into your neck, your hand on the back of his, playing with the now-sweaty strands of hair on the nape. “So pretty for me, taking my cock,” the dirty talking is welcome as he continues to bring you closer to a second orgasm, your breath hitching once again.
“Come inside of me,” you say it like a whisper, a secret in the stillness of the room, and Joel is unsure he even heard you correctly.
“Are you sure?” He says it not accusingly, but in a way that conveys he feels like he just won the lottery.
“Yes, please, fill me up.”
You can see the way his eyes darken more, shifting so he’s on his knees and using your body to fuck himself on his thick cock. His hand continued to play with your clit, bringing you so close to your orgasm that tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. His cheeks were getting hot as he thrusted in and out furiously, and you could almost see the stress melt off of his face as he came close to his own undoing.
The white-hot feeling washes over you once again, eyes shutting before you’re back on your elbows and watching intently. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire as his thrusts become sloppy, your name pouring out of his lips like a prayer. You’re clenching around him and letting him ride out his high alongside you, slowing after his hot cum coats your walls and leaves you full of him.
He collapses on top of you, cock softening inside as you both catch your breath together. Your chests are sticky with sweat as you breathe, taking in the smell of him, and the feel of his warmth on your body.
He pulls himself from you and flops beside you, still taking a moment to admire you. You look over at him, a lazy smile on your face as your hand reaches out to caress the skin of his chest. He takes the time to run his fingertips up your arms and back as you lay there in silence together, just soaking in the moment in a post-sex glow.
“I guess I should get going,” you say after a few beats, sitting up to grab your dress off the floor. You cringe at the thought of throwing your underwear on and leaving, this being just another random hookup for you that never lead to anything. Joel was sweet.
A confused look spreads across his features and his brows knit together, before sitting up next to you at the edge of the bed.
“I mean, I don’t know how these things usually go,” he laughs, as his hand finds your lower back. “But you don’t gotta run outta here like a scared animal or somethin’.”
You look up at him again, unsure of what to do next. In your, albeit limited, experience with dating app hookups, you were expected to leave pretty much right after.
“Oh, um,” you look around the room at the soft worn-in sheets and the TV across from Joel’s bed. You take a look at him again, your eyes meeting his to match his gaze, where you can tell he’s mentally begging that you’ll stay the night.
“I mean, if you don’t mind, I’d be happy to stay.” Joel smiled lopsidedly and let his hand rub soothing circles at your lower back. 
“I’ll make it worth your while,” he laughs, stepping over to go into the bathroom and warm up a cloth for the mess spilling out from between your legs. “I wouldn’t mind wakin’ up and doing all that again tomorrow.”
You laugh and lay back onto his bed as he presses the warm cloth to your pussy, his lips once again finding yours to pull you in for a sweet kiss. 
You nod, sliding between the comfortable sheets as Joel runs downstairs to grab your abandoned drinks as well as a couple of bottles of ice cold water. He slips into the sheets next to you, not bothering to throw on any pajamas (not that you were complaining), and settling in beside you. After a few gulps of water, you nestled into his chest and let your hand find his tummy, resting on it as you listened to the even pattern of his breath.
“We should do this again. Like, after tomorrow morning.” you say quietly as you’re drifting in and out of sleep. His fingertips continues to slide across your arm and give you goosebumps as you snuggled closer into him, hearing a laugh exhale out of his nose and feeling a kiss press to the top of your head. 
In his sleepy, deep southern drawl, he replies. “Don’t have to ask me twice, darlin’.”
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juletheghoul · 5 months ago
Note
if you are still taking requests for the general can we PLEASE see what would happen if reader were ever in danger or threatened or kidnapped? to see marcus’ reaction and him do whatever it takes to get them back?? and his reaction to when he does?? 😭😭 i’m shaking askingthis omg,,
You're so right for this nonny, you're practically in my head. I was working on a chapter of the General, and it's basically this so here we go!
Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, violence, attack on the villa - you are hurt and Marcus gets serious, hurt/comfort, creampie, master / slave dynamic (power imbalance), Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus, let me know if I missed any!
Unbeta’d, any mistakes are my own!
Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader
word count: 2.8k
reblogs are appreciated
Prev chapter Masterlist series masterlist
-
Your fingers cramped, his tunic had been more damaged than you’d initially thought and what you’d imagined would only take a few minutes, had taken the better part of an hour. With his tunic mended, you used the small knife to cut the thread and blessedly stretched, wincing at the ache in your back from being hunched over. An odd feeling weighed down the pit of your stomach and it was hard to place until you realized how eerily quiet the house was. Not just the familiar quiet of night, but an all-encompassing hush that seemed to cover everything like a blanket. 
No crickets chirping, no night birds singing, even the breeze seemed to have stopped. An icy finger followed the line of your spine and when his dogs began barking loudly, it almost made you jump out of your skin. 
You ignored the unease in your stomach and reassured yourself, the hour had grown late, and all of the chores had been completed. All that was left to do was fill the water basin in his private chamber, as well as yours. The dogs still barked as you made your way through the peristyle, irritated that despite being well trained, they did not relent. It was unlike them to ignore a command from your dominus and with a frown you belatedly notice one of the house's guards lying prone. 
You gasped, rushing over to him to help him, hoping it was only the heat that had gotten to him. You turned him, struggling to reach his face when your hands felt something wet, and with a barely contained scream, you saw that he had been attacked, and had not survived. The realization hit you like a knife to the belly, there was someone in the house, someone intent on sending your Dominus to the underworld. 
Ice crawling through your veins and with your heart in your throat, you ran towards his chambers to warn him.
The halls were dark and quiet as you ran as fast as your legs could carry you, praying to Diana to bless you with swiftness, to Mars to bless Marcus’ sword, and to humbly beg Pluto to stay away. 
Diana did not listen, and a shadow caught you unawares in the dark hall outside his chamber, cutting off the scream before it left your mouth. Your vision blurred as the faceless hulk behind you all but lifted you by the throat, making you squirm in his grip until he pressed the sharp tip of his blade to your back. 
“Silence!” He hissed into your ear, pain radiating from your neck, and where his knife cut shallowly into the skin of your back. You tried to scream, to kick and struggle out of his grip but it was iron, and when he slammed you back against the wall the world turned on its head. You choked on the coughs stuck in your throat, vaguely making out the angry words he hissed in your face. 
“Where is he? Where does he keep the valuables?” The fight was going out of you, your eyes, felt like they were going to pop out of your head, and your hands had surely been weighed down with something. Warmth ran down your back. 
Your vision blurred and a sinking realization hit you. 
I am going to die here.
Everything faded for a moment before you fell, hard, onto the ground. Breathing in felt like swallowing fire, your body was so heavy, and you couldn’t be sure how much time passed before you took in the scene. The man that had attacked you was on the floor before you, his eyes open, but never to see anything again. 
“Are you hurt?” His voice is like a balm and it’s with frantic hands that you clutch at him where he’s crouched in front of you. 
“Dominus-”  Your voice comes out like gravel, your throat burning so much so, tears fill your eyes and he shakes his head, shushing you softly. 
“Quiet girl, do not speak if it pains you, simply nod, are you hurt anywhere but here?” His hand is wet with blood, but it touches your neck soft as silk. You nod your head as he helps you to stand, holding you close to his warmth, his eyes scan over all of you, frowning when he sees the blood seeping through the back of your tunic, and flowing down towards your ankle. 
“Let me see.” He lifts it, turning you in his grip and an angry sound fills his mouth. 
Your heart fills with something huge, something unknowable, unnamable. 
“Can you walk?” The strength in him rears its head, and he practically holds you up, you nod your head yes and he nods back once, pressing his bloody finger to his lip to keep you quiet before tucking you in behind him. He picks up his sword and slowly, you both make your way through his halls, hunting those who dared threaten him. He pokes his head around a corner and is confronted with a small group of his attendants, the older women, the toughest of them has a knife in her hand. 
“Hide yourselves, I will find you once the threat is removed. Go to the cellar and bar yourselves in.” He nods once and they obey, trusting him to protect those who are alive. You move to join them but his free hand holds you tight. “You stay with me, girl.”
You nod and hold onto his arm like an anchor. 
He finds them in his library, rifling through his things and for a moment your heart drops at the sight of them. There are four of them, and they turn in unison, dropping his parchments and smiling to see him alone, and worst of all, accompanied by an injured slave. 
Wordlessly they begin to circle and with your throat burning, you begin to pray once more. 
One of them advances too quickly and Marcus slices him from throat to groin without blinking. The blood splatters onto Marcus and then spreads from where the man falls on the floor and you feel as though you’re stuck in a nightmare. 
“I will give the rest of you the chance to keep your lives if you leave now.” 
“To what end? You’ve seen our faces, you will just come looking for us.” One of the braver ones spits it back in his face, looking to the others for support. They advance but he doesn’t let them close enough to hurt either of you. You see why he’s earned his reputation firsthand, and your brain rebels against itself. Part of you is terrified to see such violence outside the arena, in the place that is your home no less. Another part of you though, rejoices to see him fight for his house, for you. His sword moves swiftly, as fluid as water as he cuts his way through them with terrifying ease. 
He drips in their blood, unfeeling, unseeing, until there is one left on the ground, clutching at his wounds. 
“Mercy, I beg of you!” He holds his hands up, eyes shining with a fear you have never seen. 
“The time for mercy has passed.” He blocks your view, but you hear the sound of flesh parting, a sickening gurgling sound, and then silence. 
You stand there in the dark room, still as a statue until he blocks your vision again, his bloodied hands holding your face softly. He says nothing, only holds your gaze and you cannot help but press yourself close, gripping onto his arms if only to convince yourself that he is healthy and whole before you. 
Wordlessly, he leads you away from the gore of the room. He completes his circuit of the house, finding the guards that survived the attack as well as other attackers, none of them having survived their attempt. 
He thanks them for fulfilling their duty to protect and orders them to dispose of the gore corrupting his home. He orders them to find the others hidden away, to let them know the house is once again safe. Your hands tremble, but you cannot be sure if it’s from fear or from the way he has not let you go since this whole ordeal began. You look down as he speaks his commands, to see the way his hand sits on your hip, wrapped around you, pressing you close to his side. The blood on his hands has seeped into the fabric of your tunic, it is smeared all over your arms and your neck. You swallow and the pain is still there, and when you shift his hand tightens around you, pressing into the shallow cut and you wince. 
He feels the way you shy away from the pain, and promptly dismisses his guards, advising them that fresh water and linens are to be brought to him at once. 
“Come girl, let me tend to that.”
-
The shaking does not stop, neither does the feeling of ghostly fingers wrapping themselves around your neck. Neither does the pain. Your fingers itch to do something, but with your Dominus cleaning and bandaging your wound, you can do nothing but stand in front of him, and tremble like a leaf. 
He does his best to soothe, but his gentle touch and soft words can only do so much. There is anger in you, a sharp clawing desire to break something, to hurt those that hurt you, those that snuck into his house like rats to do naught but harm. If your throat didn’t hurt so much, you’d scream. His lips bring you back though, where they press to your back when he is done bandaging you up. 
You watch him, wild-eyed with the blood still pounding in your ears, and wonder how he can be so calm, cleansing the blood off his skin like he’s done it a thousand times. But hasn’t he? The reality of him becomes crystal clear, this was nothing to him. His eyes are focused on the task at hand, they move methodically, dipping into the water and scrubbing at his face, and his arms. He undresses to the skin and continues his ritual, only looking to you once he is satisfied with his state. 
“Come, girl, undress.” Your body falls into its usual rhythm, obedience. 
You strip, careful of the wound and your neck, and once nude, you walk over to him. Silently, he dips a new cloth and sets about his task. Your face is first, gently but thoroughly cleaned of every drop of blood. Your arms next, and then your neck. You wince, but stay still. Handprints that had seeped through and marked your hip, your back, all of them wiped away like they’d never been there. He crouches and follows the trail of your blood where it had slid down the swell of your ass, down the back of your leg towards your ankle. Not a drop is spared, and then he is done.
“Thank-” It's a harsh whisper that comes out of your mouth, and he doesn’t let you finish the sentiment.
“Do not speak, I would not have you in pain. Your throat must heal and the more you speak the longer it will take.” He pressed a soft kiss to your brow, but you held him close, cold all of a sudden as you stood there in his chamber, both of you bathed in moonlight and damp from the cloth. He lets you clutch to him, lets you press yourself into the cage of his arms, and wraps you up in them. He is the cure, you do not tremble when he holds you like this. 
An ache builds, the need for comfort, for warmth, for affection. For love, whispers a tiny little part of you, a part you ignore. 
You stand on the tips of your toes and press your lips to his, hoping he can sense what you need. 
“Are you not in pain?” His fingers curl around the long line of your neck, feather-soft, holding your gaze as you try to kiss him again. You nod, but try again anyway and he holds you still. You mouth the words, exaggerating the shapes of them in your mouth so he will understand. 
“I need you.”
He searches your eyes and is satisfied with what he finds, nodding once and then finally giving you his mouth, his tongue, and the loveliest of sounds from deep in his chest. 
You take charge and push him to sit on his bed, guiding him to lie on his back and he follows where you lead, arranges himself exactly how you want him, and lets you climb onto him. You straddle his waist, fitting his hardening cock between the lips of your sex. He bites his lip, eyes focused on the way you rock yourself along his length and despite giving you control of this encounter, his hands land heavy on your hips. His fingers dig in, sliding up to hold onto your breasts, both fingers pinching and stroking at the peaked tips of them in the way he knew you liked, the way he knew would turn your cunt into a fountain of arousal. 
“Use me, girl, do what you need, take your pleasure.” One hand stayed on your breast, the other went to his lips and he dipped his thumb into his mouth, wetting it before sliding it between where the head of his cock peeked out from between your legs and slipped it over your clit. A heavy sigh leaves your mouth, the pain in your throat mingling with the pleasure between your legs. 
You bend forward, pressing your mouth to his with an urgency that claws at your very being. The desperation isn’t just in you though, there’s something of the caged animal in Marcus, a tremble in his fingers when they dig into the meat of your hips that conveys an itch to take control. You need this now though, so with his tongue in your mouth, you lean forward and lift your hips enough to give your hand room to grasp the weeping head of him, and notch it at your soaked entrance. 
It’s almost too much, the way he fills you, the slick head of him almost too deep. His cock twitches and you cannot help but clench around him, your cunt flooding with waves and waves of arousal for him. His hands are charged like the air before a storm, roaming from your thighs, to your hips, up to thumb and strum at your nipples. Moans and whimpers slip out despite the pain in your throat. 
You roll your hips, the pressure against your clit radiates out and the pleasure builds. It makes you frantic, the slip of him inside made all the better with the way you soak his lap. You speed up, chasing the friction and the pleasure just there, despite the burn in your thighs and the sweat beading on your brow with the effort of your movements. 
“That’s it girl, fuck me-” Your stomach drops with the dark thrill of him letting you take, your nipples so sensitive under his thumbs, it’s almost painful. You want to go faster, but you’re losing steam, and you let out a sigh in frustration, pushing past the discomfort. 
“Come, let me give it to you.” His hands slip around your back, and he pulls you forward, so you lie onto his chest folded into his embrace. He wraps his arms around you, fully, holding your arms to your sides so you can do nothing but take, and then he gives. 
He plants his feet, and thrusts up hard, and fast enough to make your mouth fall open in a silent scream. 
“This is how you want it, hard, you want to feel this cock for days don’t you girl?” He grunts out the words, and despite the red, violent haze of his love, you cannot help but marvel at the strength in him. 
“Yes, please Dominus, don’t stop-” It comes out whispery, into the crook of his neck but he shudders all the same, and somehow, he fucks up into you harder. You turn to liquid in his arms, shuddering when the climax hits you hard as a punch to the gut. He lets out a guttural sound, but fucks you through it just the same, drawing out the orgasm until it takes him under. 
He comes hard, rope after rope of his release painting your insides. Hot and messy and it almost makes you purr like a cat.
He lets go, both of you breathing hard, and sticky with the sweat of exertion. 
“Give me a few minutes.” He breathes hard, while you press soft kisses, and kitten licks where the salt of him collects, “I will fuck you again, I am ravenous for you, girl.” His hands reach down, and grab at the meat of your ass and you smile. 
“Yes Dominus.” It doesn’t hurt as much as it did, and you’re sure that by morning, you’ll be right as rain. 
-
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odoraful · 7 months ago
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𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓
wriothesley has been hesitant to tell you about his past, afraid that it will tarnish your view of him. reconciling with this is no easy task, but he has you by his side to guide him
content: wriothesley x gn!reader; established relationship; 'baby' pet name; reader and wriothesley live together; nightmare sequence; mentions of blood; spoilers to wrio story quest!; reader doesn't know the full truth of wriothesley's past; wriothesley worried about how good of a partner he is :( ; hurt/comfort; reverse comfort; 4k words
a/n: i just wanna gently hold wriothesley and tell him that he's doing so well <3 also i give full credit to critical role and the wonderful talisen jaffe for the quote "pain doesn't make people, it's love that makes people"
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Before opening his eyes, Wriothesley smelled iron. Pungent and pervasive. It filled his nostrils and sunk unpleasantly in his churning stomach. He knew he was lying on his back on a cold, hard surface, but that was about as much information he was certain about. Where he was or how he ended up in this state escaped him.
He tested his other senses. Every swallow of saliva went down like sand in his throat. His fingers were limp as he tried squeezing them into fists, the strength siphoned out of him. Slowly regaining some sense of himself again, he could finally label what the scent was. Blood.
At that realisation, he peeled opened his eyes, dreading the scene he would find himself in. A scene he knew that would be painfully similar to memories he quashed a long time ago. He grimly thought whether the blood would be trailing from his hands, or already dried up beneath him, a red dye stained on the floorboards. The lights above accosted him, dazzling his vision. Fontainian households were always so bright, and it didn’t help that the walls of them were white too. But, even then, there were always nooks and crannies shrouded in darkness. Wriothesley found that the more glittering lights there were, the darker the shadows they casted.
He sat up with a groan, his body the weight of bricks. Looking around, there was no such scene he imagined before him. The room he was in was… ordinary. Pristine white walls lined with book shelves against spotless light timber flooring. A fireplace was tucked between two shelves, where the hearth held blackened remnants of burned wood. Wriothesley was situated on the floor between the fireplace and two brown cushioned sofas facing each other separated by a low table. He swore there were other furnishings in the room, but for some reason he couldn’t focus on them. The edges of his vision blurred and he couldn’t make out any other details besides what was most salient.
It wasn’t necessary though.
He knew where he was.
He was almost even in the exact spot they found him slumped in when he was a boy. Back rested against a bookshelf, hollow eyes gazing into the distance. The officers were unable to hide the pure shock on their faces at the grisly tableau in front of them.
Bile rose in Wriothesley’s throat. Despite there being no evidence of violence, the scent of blood lingered in the air, filling his lungs. He went to stand, the movement ungraceful and slow, as if he were swimming in the ocean with thick layers of clothing on. Lying on the floor wouldn’t do well for his nausea. He walked towards to sofa to sit and assess this situation. Sinking into the cushions, he rubbed his temples with his hands.
He thought this house had long since been torn down. How had he been taken back to his old home? His mind sharply retracted those words. No, he wouldn’t call it that. Home was a place of safety and love, but the place he grew up in was built on a foundation of lies and malice. The only small glimmer of home he could recall was his bonds with his siblings.
“█████.”
A voice whispered from just beside his ear, as if speaking a secret.
Wriothesley’s skin prickled. His head snapped around, but he was only met with empty space.
Impossible, he thought. No one who should know that name. He buried it a long time ago when he was handcuffed to the bed in that emergency ward. Perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him. Digging up memories of his past.
“█████, where did you go?”
This time, a different, more louder voice came from the opposite direction. Wriothesley could make out its qualities—young and wistful. It was that of a child.
Wriothesley was not often scared. When someone like him had seen both the worst and best of what life had to offer, he was seldom caught off guard. Even backed into a corner, there was always a way out for him. A few carefully chosen words was his preferred method, but now, his tongue felt heavy in his mouth. Hearing that name being said aloud chilled him to his bones. The colour drew from his face, skin turning ghast-like. He was terrified.
“You left without saying goodbye.”
A young girl sniffled, sounding on the verge of tears. Wriothesley scanned the room frantically, trying to find the source of the voices.
“Why did you leave us?”
A young boy this time. Familiarity clawed at the back of Wriothesley’s mind. His eyes bulged in horror.
“█████, we miss you.”
“You said we would play together.”
“They took some of us away.”
“█████, will you ever come back?”
Wriothesley covered his ears, but it did little to quiet the ceaseless voices. Multiple of them spoke at once, rising in urgency, surging around him. Overlapping and defeaning, burrowing into his skull no matter how hard he squeezed and squeezed his ears shut. He was backed into a corner with no way out. He screamed in his head, roaring in agony. He couldn’t stay here, he needed out.
Hearing the pleading of his own mind, Wriothesley jolted awake.
Like a conductor ending a symphony with the close of their hand, the cacophony of voices abruptly stopped.
Void-like silence met him in the waking world.
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He felt his heart lodged in his throat, as if he had been pushed off the tallest point of the Palais Mermonia. Steadying his shallow breathing, he pushed his back further into the bedsheets, trying to ground himself.
Just a dream, just a dream. He repeated, sighing loudly. His bedroom had never been a more welcome sight as he sat up, careful not to awake his resting partner. At least, that’s where you should have been. There was no weight of your body beside him. He swept a hand over the bed, and made contact only with the sheets and crumpled quilt blanket.
Still reeling from the terrors of his dream, Wriothesley’s mind drew the worse conclusions. Had you been taken? Had you left him? Panicked, he began to call out your name. His voice was hoarse, but he was glad he could speak after being robbed of it in his dream.
A triangle of yellow light cut into the darkness of the room as the door cracked opened. Relief flooded him seeing you standing there, wrapped in a fluffy robe, hair ruffled.
“Baby, is everything alright?” You asked softly, approaching the bed.
Wriothesley’s chest rose and fell in quick intervals. His body arched over like a crooked branch, shivering ever so slightly. Alarms blared inside you. You had never seen him in this state before.
“I- I thought you had gone somewhere,” he said, voice quavering.
The mattress dipped as you sat atop, kneeling beside him. “I didn’t leave.” You lay a hand on him, watching closely at his expression with a furrowed brow. “I’m here, I’m here,” you soothed gently, rubbing small circles into his shoulder.
He gave into your touch, his posture easing. Seeing him slowly relax, you raised your hands to cradle his face. Warmth radiated through him, expelling whatever anxieties had possessed him. His breath shuddered. Immediately, he nuzzled into your touch, burying his face in the faint scent of soap and lilies. He could stay here forever. It would be all he needed to revitalise his senses and keep him alive. He covered one of your hands with his own, encompassing it completely. His calloused fingers slid between yours—a sensation that contrasted against the softness of his lips as he kissed the inside of your palm. A feather-like touch that caused the butterflies in your stomach to flutter.
“I was just in the bathroom.” You reassured him. Wriothesley hummed in response. “Did something happen?”
He hesitated, wondering how much he should tell you.
“I just had a nightmare.” His voice was muffled, lips grazing your skin as he spoke. “It was nothing, really.”
You gently turned his head towards yours, prompting him to focus on you. “It doesn’t seem like nothing to me.”
His heart stung at the pure concern on your face. Different from the times when you tended to him when he injured himself whilst boxing, or when you saw him passed out at his desk from his persistent workload. There was desperation layered in your knitted brows and parted lips.
“Let me get you a glass of water.” You said, caressing his face. Hints of stubble brushed under the pads of your thumbs. “You’ll feel a little better after being hydrated.”
Coldness returned to his cheeks as you pulled away. You couldn’t even turn around before Wriothesley’s hands were on you once again. He snaked his arms around your waist, embracing you tightly.
“Don’t go.” He rasped. “Please, stay with me.”
His pleading tugged at your heartstrings. As much as you wanted to stay in his arms, you could tell from his voice just how dry his throat was. “I won’t be far from you. I’ll be gone only for a moment.” You kissed his forehead, sealing your promise.
You waited until he loosened his hold on you (albeit begrudgingly), and hurried out of the room to fetch some water. Wriothesley leaned against the bedhead. His head was clearer now, and he tuned his hearing to the far-away whir of machinery in the Fortress.
He was glad to have a shared room with you away from his working environment. This was an entirely new floor he had extended above his office. The design of which began after he had seen you curled up in sleep on one of his chairs, waiting for him to finish his duties for the day. Resting somewhere backgrounded by piles of administrative paperwork didn’t make for the most relaxing setting. And so, he swiftly drafted plans to create private quarters for the two of you.
After a long day, he would head straight upstairs to meet you. You’d be there snuggled on the lounge with a novel, and his footfalls would be enough for you to abandon your book on the table and rush over to the door. Now, while the sun could not be seen in the stronghold beneath the waves, it found its place with you. In the way your smile beamed and eyes twinkled as you greeted him. You were so, so bright, and yet he could never look away. At first, it almost startled him how easy you gave your love to him. There was no ulterior motive with you. You loved him wholly.
He sadly wondered how quickly your glimmer would fade if he revealed parts of him that had never seen the light.
The tapping of your slippers approached the door, and you entered with a glass and pitcher of water. Placing them both on the bedside table, you poured water into the glass and handed it to him. Wriothesley didn’t realise how parched he was until he took the first sip. Eagerly chugging the rest down, he you in the corner of his eye, chewing on your bottom lip. You were on the cusp of saying something.
“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, taking the empty glass from his hands and putting it to the side.
“Your dream that is…” You faltered through your words. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but you seemed upset when you woke up.”
More than upset, you thought to yourself, afraid.
Wriothesley reached out for you wrist. You let him guide you into bed, slipping under the blankets. He pulled you in closer, arm draped around your waist, until your bodies were flush with each other. Your expectant gaze fell on him. He plastered on an assuring smile, but couldn’t quite draw the corners of his lips up to reach his eyes.
“I was only a bit shaken,” he replied, keeping his tone light. “It had things relating to my past. My subconscious must have it out for me for not letting me get a good night’s rest.” Hopefully that was enough to mollify the true contents of his dream.
You toyed with the edge of the blanket. Wriothesley’s past was something he didn’t divulge in too much detail. Even after being together for some time, all you knew was that his childhood was a difficult time, and he had to run away from his foster parents home. You had a good sense that he no longer wished to recall these events from the way he was quick to brush off the topic. It was hard for you to balance between wanting to know more, and also respecting his privacy.
“You know that you can tell me about anything that’s bothering you, right?”
Your eyes never left his, watching the way they brimmed with fondness as he answered.
“Of course I know that baby, it’s just that…” His eyes casted downwards.
In his line of work, keeping up a poker-face meant keeping things under control. However, with you, he never hid his true emotions, and you saw conflict dance across his features.
“I’m worried it might change how you see me,” he confessed, fidgeting with his fingers as if he were itching to move.
“Wriothesley,” you covered a hand over his, halting his movement, “nothing will make me change the way I see you now. You aren’t the same person as you were back when you were young.”
Those words settled in his mind, prodding at the uncertainties he had about opening up. You continued,
“You can share anything about your past with me. And, what is it they say…” You tried to recall a line you had read recently. “A burden shared is a burden halved?”
He couldn’t fight back a smile, teeth peeking out from beneath his lips. “Putting those philosophical books you’re reading to use?”
“Actually, it’s a collection of poetry from Mondstadt.” You corrected, pursing your lips smugly.
He breathed a laugh, spirits lightening at how endearing his partner was.
From the day he selected a new name for himself, he chose to begin anew. Although he knew that nothing in his past constituted any part of his life now, it still clung to him. A fog clouding his mind during moments of solitude, drawing out doubts that stumbled into the open. If he did tell you the full truth, would you see him as nothing more than someone raised in a loveless place? Who was pushed to do what many considered unthinkable? Running a hand through his hair, he exhaled slowly—ruminating.
You calmly awaited his next words, knowing that you would accept both if he chose to tell you or not.
Wriothesley spoke again,
“I mentioned to you before that I didn’t have the most… peaceful childhood.”
You nodded, grim at the thought of what those adults had done to those innocent children. “Mmm, you told me about your foster parents, and how you ran away from them.”
“Yes, but that’s not the whole truth.”
Pausing, he steeled himself. He caught on a thread that had long since been loose and began to unravel his past.
“After I escaped, I couldn’t shake off the guilt of abandoning my siblings, but there was also no way I could stay in that household after what I had learned.”
He recounted the story in the same way one would read aloud an article published by The Steambird. So separated from his past that he had little inflection in his tone. Even so, you saw a flare of emotion in Wriothesley’s eyes.
“So, I tried to keep myself alive and tried to get stronger, so that I could return and protect them.”
“Archons,” he bowed his head, dark hair falling over his brows, “I don’t even know how much time passed out there, everything seemed to blend together.”
You felt an ache in your chest, like someone had tightly gripped your heart. “I can’t imagine how tough it must have been.” Picturing a younger Wriothesley in your head, frightened and alone, made you shiver.
“Mmm,�� he hummed. “It was.” He returned a sad smile to you, though regret laced his words. “I wouldn’t wish that life for anybody, but I did learn a lot.”
“I snuck back into the house after a while of being on the streets. I-“ He rubbed his temple with his free hand, unable to find the right words. “One of my siblings told me that while I was gone, a few of them had been… adopted into other families.”
Your skin turned cold, knowing exactly what that meant.
“I-I think I heard their voices in my dream.” His voice wavered, face scrunching up as he remembered those ghostly voices in that empty room. “They were asking why I left them there, wondering where I was.”
You squeezed his hand. “But you did return. You swore that you would come back for them and you did,” you asserted.
Shaking his head, he turned his hand over to interlock your fingers with his. “Perhaps I was too late.”
“I found my foster parents sitting happily in the drawing room, and suddenly, I felt so, so angry.” His expression turned sombre, staring down at the blanket covering you two. “At them, at myself, at the world, and something snapped in me and I did the only thing I felt I could do in that moment.”
A heaviness tugged down on his chest as if in protest at the continuation of his sentence. But, there would be no hiding it now. He swallowed thickly.
“I killed them.”
The words left his lips in a whisper, and hung in the space between you.
You stilled. The faint beating of your heart could be felt between your hand in his.
Sensing your stiffness, Wriothesley forced himself to look at you, searching your face in the hopes of finding any kind of reaction. He half expected you to pull away in terror. Disillusioned at the fact that your partner was a murderer. But, he found no such revulsion. Instead, your eyes glossy with tears captured a sadness so sincere and profound that his heart shattered into pieces, piercing him from the inside out.
“It was a long time ago.” With every word he spoke, the shards seemed to dig deeper. “And I definitely don’t associate myself with that person anymore.”
“But, I understand if this changes how you see me. If you need time away-”
“Don’t say that,” you interrupted, shaking your head fervently.
You blinked, tears lining your lower lashes. The sight of your partner blurred slightly in your vision, his face contorted in pain. You understood. The distance he wanted to put between you was merely a façade. Buried beneath it was a wordless plea for you to stay. He had bared everything to you, and you would not let him hurt by himself any longer.
“It doesn’t change how I feel towards you.” Determination rose in your cracked voice. “You were so young. No child should ever be placed in a position like that.”
Surely, there must be some part of him that agreed. Some part that would allow forgiveness. Wriothesley’s gaze flicked between your eyes, lost in your expression, as was you in his. A muscle in his jaw twitched.
“I-I can’t be the one to say whether it was the right thing to do,” you continued, “but what I do know is that you were just a child who needed to survive and wanted to protect those you cared about.”
How many people had treated him with kindness as a child? It upset you to think of all the adults that turned their backs on him. Reducing his character to only what they saw on a case report. Likely considering him to be nothing more than a psychopath. Your pulse thumped in your ears at the injustice of it.
“You are not who you were in the past.” You said slowly, enunciating every word. “Pain doesn’t make people, Wriothesley. It’s love that makes people.”
His expression melted softly. The creases between his brows smoothing.
“And I know that you love and care so strongly, you’ve shown me that every single day.”
Icy blue eyes held so much affection as he stared back at you—transfixed. Now more than ever did he believe you were the sun to him. Basking in your warmth, feeling the comfort of it tingle his skin. What you had said to him had begun to sink in. However, while he couldn’t refute your words, the mindset he had formed could not be altered in a single moment. Perhaps he would not completely believe your words now, but that was alright. You would be there by his side every day to remind him.
Clearing his throat, Wriothesley tested out if his voice was still fit to speak. Though this room was private to the two of you, he spoke quietly, as if he craved only your attention.
“When I was serving my sentence here, I always dreamed about what my new home would be."
He recalled the confinement of his cell, and how his mind would drift from counting the bolts in the metal wall to imagining a new life for himself. Wanting a place that was safe and people he felt at peace with felt like a mirage to him. However, if he could go back in time and speak to his younger self in that cell, he would tell him that things would turn out alright. The journey would not be without difficulties, but he would finally be in a place where he no longer had to look over his shoulder, fearing for his safety. And, he would be with someone who would be proud to call him their love.
“I think I found it here, with you.”
He took the chance to close the distance between you two. His forehead rested against yours. You closed your eyes.
“I love you, Wriothesley,” you whispered, instinctively.
His breath caught in his throat. How fortunate he was to have you in his life. Not only to receive your endless love, but to learn just how capable of loving he is.
He whispered back in reply, his breath gently fanning across your cheeks. “I love you too.”
Neither of you broke away, staying in this position for a moment. Everything had been untangled before you, and a odd mixture of both sorrow and solace stirred inside you. Sorrow at listening to what Wriothesley had gone through as a boy, and solace at how tender the man before you was, his hair tickling against your forehead.
You continued to speak softly to each other for a while longer. The conversation floated from his time at the Fortress to how he became its administrator. As he spoke, the accuracy of the quote you shared before was confirmed in the inexplicable lightness he felt in his chest. A burden shared is a burden halved, he recited to himself.
Time drew on, and you both sensed that if you didn’t sleep now, you’d be up until the Fortress’ inmates began their morning shifts. Curling up beside each other, you asked to play big spoon this time so he could fall asleep easier. Though he was taller in stature to you, you insisted on it. If it were a different day, he probably would have put up a greater fight, but there was little argument in him now at the chance of being wrapped up in your arms. He was lulled to rest by your rhythmic inhales and exhales. The night quietened, and no more voices followed him in slumber.
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post a/n: thank you for making it to the hidden easter egg author note haha, i appreciate you greatly, and i hope it was an enjoyable read!!! 🥺 i just wanted to yap about my thought process writing this piece. you definitely don't have to read all this, it's primarily for my own notetaking! <3
i felt like this was probably one of the hardest pieces i've written so far (?) i found it tough to build up that tension of reader not knowing wriothesley's full past and him still grappling with his actions as a young boy, and even what that dialogue would look like! i had to step away and come back a few times just so i could look at this with a fresh pair of eyes. it may not be perfect but i'm glad to have finished this! :')
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omega-e123 · 4 months ago
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!! NSFW !!
CW: Masturbating, Blowjob, Scent kink
In A Rut…
Prologue || Part 2 (HERE!) || Indulgence || Adoration
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Restraint.
Shadow thought he was doing so well keeping it together… as well as someone who keeps an arms length from their partner wherever applicable. Details. He would have been doing far worse without these precautions.
Until it was movie night. One of the most uncomfortable experiences he’s ever had. While you were lying down cuddled up to his side, Shadow sat upright with his arms crossed. Your head in his lap completely distracted him from the movie he picked.
His heart was beating in his throat.
Fuck. Your pretty little face so close to his cock. Hands tangling themselves in your hair and grabbing a fist full. He wouldn’t be able to resist holding you in place while he fucks your mouth. Tears streaming down your face as Shadow pushes you to your limit. Oh to have complete control over your head, bobbing it up and down. Pressing his length to the back of your throat.
He’s grateful there’s a blanket separating you and him. Little indents are left in his upper arms from grasping too tight. Careful to not draw any blood, otherwise there no way getting out of that conversation.
Your head turns to look up at Shadow, asking if he’s okay. You can feel the tension in his muscles, but naturally, he brushes it off. Reaching up, you attempt to comfort him, whatever’s bugging his mind via placing a hand on his cheek. Shadow intercepts it, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.
“I’m fine.”
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
After months of keeping Shadow’s jacket in your possession, finally it’s been returned back to its rightful owner.
Not that Shadow minded it went missing for a long time. It brought a sense of pride in him seeing you in his clothes. To Shadow, it was like you were showing off to the world you belonged to him.
He figured later down the line, once it gets cold again, you’ll be back to snatch that jacket for yourself. Additionally, it’s not out of the ordinary for you to give it back to him for a day or two so he could ‘refresh the scent’.
“It just smells better when you wash it”, you claimed.
Speaking of, Shadow could tell you’ve worn this recently and haven’t cleaned it yet. One whiff and he’s on his bed hugging it. Already missing you.
His body begins to move on its own. The article of clothing pressed against his face while his hips slowly begin to rhythmically press up against the mattress. With every inhale, Shadow falls deeper into a spell.
Shadow knows he probably shouldn’t be doing this. Embarrassing how a simple jacket with your scent on it has him on his hands and knees. Turned into a mere animal. Shit. Fuck, He wants to stop. It feels too fucking good. Try as he might, his moans refuse to be silenced.
More.. more..! He needs more friction. Cursing under his breath, Shadow moves a pillow to sit right underneath him. With each thrust elicits a guttural moan. Sweat beads on his forehead as he picks up the pace.
Fangs sink into the fabric, imagining it was your own collarbone. His arms hook under your knees, pressing them towards you, in order to gain better access. Deeper in to release his seed. Shadow is practically snarling and singing your name. Even after being over stimulated, he keeps you trapped.
The humping becomes erratic as Shadow chases his climax. One hand is released from the jacket and claws tear into the sheets next to him. Damn it. Add that to the list of things he needs to buy tomorrow.
Finally he stills, heavily panting. If only you were here. Here to cuddle with him so he didn’t have to do the walk of shame to clean up his bedding… and himself off. Rotating to his back, Shadow lays an arm over his eyes. A hand over his heart.
Contemplating.
How is he going to keep this up for one more month.
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preciouslittle-bhaalbabe · 6 months ago
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I feel like Astarion has a bit of delayed reactions to things. Which makes complete sense. He needs time to process he even says this the first night we meet him. Of course that could also serve as a cover up for needing to hunt but he did just go through ALOT of shit in a short amount of time. Of course that needs to be processed. All this to say if you're playing Durge and resist Bhaal I think it would take a few days for him to realise what happened. He lost you. If only for a moment he lost the only person he has ever cared for. He lost everything.
And then poof! You're back and everythings fine! But it's not. He watched you die. He stood helplessly while a god deemed his person unworthy to exist and snuffed them out like they were nothing. So this is how I imagine his reaction would be after a few days.
It's a short read. :3
You're settling in for the night at the elfsong. Lying down on the soft bed and staring up at the ceiling. For the first time in well...Ever, your mind is quiet. No urges. No agonizing thoughts. You're at peace. Even though the weight of the world and it's saving hasn't left your shoulders you feel confident that you can now do what is right. You're not just a pawn, some thing to be used by the gods then discarded. You can write your own future.
Something takes you out of your thoughts. You see a pale silhouette standing at the foot of your bed.
"Star?" You croak. Even after all this time you still aren't used to just how quiet he is.
"Sorry darling I- I just had to check something".
"Check for what?" You ask.
"I needed to make sure you're alive. That I didn't leave your corpse in that temple".
You hear his voice break slightly. He's terrified.
"Come here love". You invite him into bed so he can be with you. Feel your warm skin, hear your heartbeat.
He sinks down into the mattress with you. Head on your chest. You feel moisture on his face and realise he had been crying. He relaxes into you as you run your hands through his hair.
"I'm- I'm glad you're here darling".
"I'm here. I will always be here. Not even the gods themselves could take me from you".
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sanakimohara · 5 months ago
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[ CHERRY POPPER ] H. H.
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[ A/N ]: A redo because I refuse to let this account flop!
[ SUMMARY ]: request; “Shy/quiet/innocent/virgin (idc which one) reader texting bsf felix (or whoever you choose) about having a crush on hyunjin, and him seeing it and deciding to do something about it (nsfw?)…” - anonn
[ PLAYLIST ]:
[ WARNINGS ]: NSFW + SMUT + MDNI + PERV HYUNJIN + FEM READER + VIRGIN READER
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Cherry Popper Hyunjin hardly believes anything Felix says when he's drunk. However, he pays more attention when the younger rambles about you - one of the many friends he’s made in the first year of college. You’ve met him more than once, and despite matching Felix’s hyperactive personality, you seem oddly shy around him. You talk quite a lot, but the instant Hyunjin makes his presence known, you zip your lips and cave in on yourself like the world is swallowing you whole. According to Felix, you’re a homebody by nature, and you never go out unless he drags you by the hand and promises to be a buffer between you and the hazards of socializing with strangers. You’re deeply in love with playing old vinyl records to dance to, read, or sleep. Felix thinks you’re old-fashioned and too old of a soul to understand his modern references and jokes, but Hyunjin envisions you differently. He notices the flutter of your lashes when you look at someone speaking, your patience, and your sweetness. He listens to your giggle when Felix reminds you to stop dazing off randomly, asking what’s on your mind. You nearly tune him out when Hyunjin is around
Cherry Popper Hyunjin admires the blush on your cheeks as a smirk tug at his lips, watching relief wash over your face when he stays silent and diverts Felix’s curiosity elsewhere. You're too adorable not to help out of an awkward situation, and that gracious smile on your face goes straight to his head.
Cherry Popper Hyunjin poured Felix two more glasses of soju, pushing him to the point of drunken oblivion, enduring his endless joking until he slumped on the couch and completely dozed off with his phone lying face down on his chest. Hyunjin debated whether to take it or not, knowing that Felix rarely minded when he or their other shared companions used his phone for a quick search on the internet or to text another acquaintance. However, neither option was on his mind when he finally plucked the device from Felix’s limp hand.
One peek at your messages wouldn’t hurt anyone.
Cherry Popper Hyunjin does more than scan over your texts with Felix. He sits up straighter on the couch, reading them with shameless interest. Your messages paint a wild picture of what you think of him, and he can't get enough of reading it. When Felix brings up Hyunjin, you gush, brushing off his obvious prying to know if you like the older. He stands, restless and buzzing with alcohol-induced energy, as he scans higher into the conversation. He abruptly stops when a particular section catches his eye.
“I mean, yeah, I’m a virgin, but there’s nothing wrong with that, right?..”
Cherry Popper Hyunjin sinks his teeth into his bottom lip harder than he meant to, pants tightening around his crotch as the word echoes in his head.
Virgin virgin virgin…
She’s a fucking virgin…
Cherry Popper Hyunjin shuts his eyes, locking Felix’s phone again before letting a sigh so long his chest burns from the gradual lack of air. No wonder you couldn’t even look him in the eye when he greeted you. It all made sense why you’d keep your legs closed no matter your position. The apparent stares you raked over him when you thought he wasn’t looking had a purpose. He could only begin to imagine what happened in your pretty head when he was around.
Why did those big eyes of yours gloss over so quickly when he spoke to you, barely touched you, paid attention to you?
Did you touch yourself to the thought of him, working yourself up with the fleeting interactions you two had, covering those same pretty fingers he’d feel on his back when you hugged him in your slick?
Hyunjin hoped you did, and he could imagine you doing it for him on command like any desperate and painfully infatuated girl would when their innocent crush spiraled into desire. You just had to be that cutest whore, all alone in your room or wherever you could manage it, pleasuring yourself to keep from making a complete mess in your panties the next time you saw him.
Cherry Popper Hyunjin presses his head back into the nearest wall dragging his consciousness from the fantasies of you and your virgin cunt and into distorted logic. He sets Felix’s phone aside, carefully rising from his seat, double checking that the blonde doesn’t stir awake before snatching the fourth half-full bottle of Soju off the coffee table. One sip numbs his tongue again, and a second steels his overconfidence as he strides down the hall towards Felix’s room. You’ve been asleep there for at least an hour, tired from trying to keep up with either of them in a drinking game and needing to wind down alone before joining them again. Felix believed you, growing childishly but waving you off as you scampered to his room, leering out drunken giggles as he shouted for you not to search for his gaming snacks when you arrived. Hyunjin suspected different of your excuse to leave their company. You couldn’t sit still; you sat between him and Felix, who regularly ended up on the floor, leaving you closer to him instead. Twice, he’d brushed his hand over your thigh. First, by accident, after handing you a bottle to open, and second, on purpose, when you leaned into him in a fit of laughter, Felix droned on about a professor you hated. You barely flinched from his touch, laughter dying down immediately, and your head resting on his shoulder as you stared at him dreamily.
“Am I too close?..”
Cherry Popper Hyunjin noticed your mischievous smile and the wheels turning in your head as you whispered your question. His cheeky smile made it clear that your inquiry was far from innocent, and it seemed like you were successfully breaking down his defenses. Without much thought, he glanced at your lips and, in a calm voice, said, "No. Come a little closer if you want... I don’t bite." It was an invitation, and you seemed poised to accept it until Felix suddenly sat up from the floor. Nervous, you shifted away from Hyunjin, redirecting your attention to the younger member, who was too drunk to notice the blush on your cheeks.
Cherry Popper Hyunjin dwells on the interaction even after you slam Felix’s bedroom door shut, the sound of its lock never echoing from the hall, and he’s grateful to find the doorknob twists in his grasp now.
Cherry Popper Hyunjin shuts the door behind him as quietly as possible, eyes fixed on your sleeping form splayed across the bed. The puffed sleeves of your vintage printed romper sliding off your shoulder, high-waisted jean shorts riding up when you snuggle closer to the covers, and your dark red thigh stockings unmoved despite your tossing and turning. Hyunjin watches, tongue slipping out to catch the taste of alcohol on his lips as he eyes the way your back arches as you huff in restless frustration. It’s been a laughable sight to anyone else: your commitment to comfortably lay in the oddest position, but Hyunjin couldn’t imagine a better advantage for himself. You groan quietly, muttering in your sleep, but not audibly aware of another person moving around the room. The soft clink of a bottle on Felix’s gaming desk is distant. The shuffle of feet nearing the end of his bed was even quieter. And the sound of a belt unbuckling is comparable to white noise in your head. You can’t be bothered to startle awake in the middle of a reoccurring dream, caught up in tracking the details of what a specific cock would feel like plundering your insides, and intoxicated enough to be drooling over the thought with a fulfilled smile etching its way onto your face.
“Hyun…Jin…”
Cherry Popper Hyunjin isn’t startled to hear you moan his name sleepily, partially focused on the noticeable wet patch forming on your shorts, a thin line of arousal dripping from the fabric with every subtle rut of your hips. He glances at your expression, lazily smiling, when you crack an eye-opening in the middle of your deep sleep. You see him through a haze, not entirely sure if he’s real, but too tired to find out and too drunk to stop the giggle that flies from your mouth when his eyes narrow at you playfully. “Dreaming of me?”
Cherry Popper Hyunjin doesn’t expect you to respond, but you do. You give him a nod, eyes fluttering closed again as you mumble into the pillow clutched in your arms. “Can’t help it…”
Cherry Popper, Hyunjin knows you’re halfway conscious when he puts his hands on your hips, fingers pressing into the waistband of your jeans just enough to get a whine out of you before he hooks them under the material and pulls it down your half-cover thighs and completely off to land on the floor at his feet. You do nothing but sigh in relief, feeling the coarse fabric peel away from your naked pussy, shivering when the air sweeps over your wet folds and gasping as the warmth of his hand cups it. Hyunjin chuckles, stunned to see you void of panties, to begin with, and glad to have one more thing out of his way. He wasn’t too far off with his assumption of you being a secretive slut, your slick coating his fingers as they gently glided back and forth across your sex. “T-that feels…so-“ you cut yourself off, whining into the pillow as the rings on his fingers make excellent impressions against your inner folds, the tips of his index brushing right over your clit as if to flick it but never pressing down. He groans, watching your hips begin to roll, tentative and slow, thighs quivering each time his fingers barely slip into your tight entrance.
“Good…I know, sweetheart…I know,” he finishes the phrase for you, eyes lowering to fun dripping down your legs and trickling around his wrist.
Cherry Popper Hyunjin sets his crotch against your raised backside, needing to be as close as humanely possible to you the moment he sinks his middle finger past your soaked folds. You shudder violently, wanting to run from the singular and slow intrusion of one of his fingers as it barely disrupts your untouched hymen. “Sensitive little thing, aren’t you?..” he coos into your ear, wrapping his freed arm around your waist to keep you from entirely collapsing into the bed as you whimper loudly. The pillow you grip muffled the sound, withholding the string of desperate moans you let out, feeling him slide his index in, adding pressure and strain to your tight walls as you clench down on both his fingers. “Too…too m-much…’ mmm,” you whine in defeat, clawing at the covers as he nuzzles his nose behind your ear, a drunken gesture of comfort translating into a chaste kiss you shiver at. “You can take it, baby…you need to, or you’ll never be able to take my whole cock..” Hyunjin feigns disappointment; lips pressed into a frown, which you only glimpse before your eyes roll in pleasure. His fingers curl forward with intent, reaching for unfamiliar nerves in your cunt repeatedly, and you groan as they find their mark several times. “What are you?…H-hyunjin, what are you d-doing?..” you pant, hips buckling against his hand as he plunges his fingers deeper and deeper, exploring your pussy for all it is.
Cherry Popper Hyunjin gets lost in the feeling of your walls swallowing his fingers whole, the ridge of his bulky rings sliding against your insides so quickly he was sure they’d slip off from how wet you’d made them. Your constant writhing and grinding on his hand caused your ass to press back into him consistently. His cock twitched every time, solid against his thigh and unbearably sensitive. Your moans coming quicker, louder, more forcefully as your insides curled with heat worsened his patience. You were so close; he could feel the strain in your cunt building, how sloppy your walls had become around his fingers, cum drenching them and pooling on his palm. You breathed heavily, your head lifted inches from the pillow, your eyes watered, and your lips fell into a dreamy smile.
“More…please…more Hyunie…” you plead quietly, stomach doing flips as your drowsy state shifts into pure joy. “Want more…”
Cherry Popper Hyunjin forgets the idea of seeing you cum on his hand, the effects of drinking for two hours straight and seeing you on all fours, begging, cunt sufficiently spread to his liking all twisting a knot in his gut he knew one way of unraveling. “Fuck this..” he snaps, drawing his hand away, jaw locked to surprise a self-serving smile as he hears you whine pathetically, unwrapping his arm from your waist to pin you on your side. “Hyunie…!” You squeak in surprise, face flushed as you stare up at him in wonder, strands of your hair sticking to your sweaty cheeks. He says nothing to you at first, hands grasping your ankles and pulling until your right leg gingerly rests on his shoulder while the other is pinned to the bed. His nails dig into the cherry red stockings wrapped around your left thigh, hand pressing it firmly against the covers at an angle that leaves your pussy wide open for his view.
Cherry Popper Hyunjin causally glides his right hand into his pants, staring fixed on your awed face as he frees his cock. Seeing the phallic muscle up close and personal, your eyes widen, how it fits perfectly when he runs his hand up and down the slender girth. A low whine tickles your throat, watching him pump the leaking tip, adding to the slick you left on his fingers and trickling down onto his pants when he lets go to grip your right hip. “Mmm…mph…” you shift away from it, a fearful haze in your eyes as he holds you still and nudges the fleshy head of his cock to your puffy and slick folds. “‘ts N-not going to fit-“ you start to protest, a little afraid of having more than his two fingers buried in you.
Dreaming about it and feeling it was a contrast you’d barely begun to conceptualize until now.
Cherry Popper Hyunjin slaps your thigh, a gentle infliction of pain that draws your eyes back up to his face, “If it’s too much, I’ll stop, but…” he trails off, gaze lowering as he presses his hips forward, gently plunging the head of his cock past your folds. You swallow a moan, back arching as he inches in a bit more, hips rocking at a controlled pace, and his voice quiet but steady as he continues, “You’ll try to take all of it for me, yeah? Give me all of your pretty little pussy before anyone else has it like a good girl?..”
You nod eagerly, eyes fluttering, mouth agape as breathy moans fall from it. “Y-yes…Hyunie...”
Cherry Popper Hyunjin exhales heavily, hearing you confess so quickly, eyes stuck on the view of your creamy folds spreading open around his shaft as he sinks into you. A swift gasp leaves you as he fills you up with a solid rut of his hips. The base of his cock firmly placed against your swollen clit, a burning stretch quickly fading in your walls as he barely pulled back before plunging in again, adding an inch to his detachment with every thrust until you could take his cock with minimal resistance.
“So full…” you exhale, damp thighs trembling each time he snaps his hips down into yours. Another coil pulled tight in your stomach the instant his head nudged your sweet spot, every ride of his cock brushing past the sensitive nerves you were beginning to realize could have a mind of their own.
Cherry Popper Hyunjin raises his head, proud to see your eyes clouded over and drool dripping from the corner of your lips. Your breasts beg to slip from your top, nipples perky against the thin cream fabric, and reach a hand to palm one. You arch into his touch more, head pressing back into the pillow, drag your top down to free them both, tossing your leg off his shoulder to fix your posture underneath and give him the freedom to lean over you wholly.
Cherry Popper Hyunjin stops your hands before they reach him, sliding his fingers through yours and pulling your hands above your head as he lowers to your breasts. You didn’t fight him, too caught up in the feeling of his cock bullying it way past your suffocating inner walls. Hyunjin flicks the tip of his tongue over your left nipple, sucking it just once to hear you stumble over a breathless moan. Your legs lock around his waist on instinct from the fleeting friction, eyes half open and distant as you stare at him, speaking in a haze he feels himself slipping into with you as your highs near.
“You’ll always…be my first…Hyunie…”
He smiled, groaning out a response without a second thought, “And your last…”
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[ A/N ] Thank Lana Del Rey & Beach Weather for this one.
[ AO3 LINK ]:…. N/A
[ BONUS CONTENT + ]
You know life is overrated. I want to be the water bottle in his hand instead… Credits to creator ❤️
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flowerandblood · 4 months ago
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The Price of Pride (10/?)
[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]
[ warnings: loss of virginity, dubcon, sex content, unprotected sex, oral sex, targcest stuff, smut, the angst, sexual tension, imprisonment, abuse of power, manipulation, violence ]
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[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]
* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *
Next chapters: Masterlist
_____
"Where are you?" She asked, looking down at the large family tree spread out in front of her face, lying comfortably between his legs, leaning against his hard torso. They were both bare; to her surprise, she quickly got rid of the feeling of embarrassment when he exposed her body.
The evenings in King's Landing were hot, so they were both relieved to be lying in the cool evening breeze on his bed, the back of her head resting against his shoulder. She heard him hum under his breath as he pointed his finger at one of the last lines which, indeed, was signed with his name.
Aemond Targaryen.
"And you are here." He added, moving his finger sideways to another line.
"Unbelievable." She said surprised, feeling for some reason joy and pride that she was included in this great lineage, somehow thinking that since her father had forgotten her, so had everyone else.
"You are a Targaryen. This is your heritage as well." He said lightly, leaning in, his full lips placing a soft, gentle kiss on her bare shoulder.
She swallowed hard, feeling pain at his words.
"My father would disagree with you." She said regretfully, tracing a line with her finger down from herself, to her father, to his father, and then to his grandfather.
She blinked, seeing that almost every one of them had married their sisters.
"Good gods." She muttered, going lower and lower, seeing that the pattern repeated surprisingly often.
She heard him chuckle behind her, his arms embracing her tighter around the waist.
"Brothers love their sisters. It's natural." He murmured, the tip of his long nose sinking into her soft cheek, his free hand slowly rising higher to squeeze her plump bosom.
He loved touching and looking at her breasts – his hands and mouth kept returning to them. He wouldn't let her cover them in his presence – they were clearly the most perfect example of femininity to him.
Their shape, their softness, the way they melted between his fingers in the morning when they slept in each other's embrace and he involuntarily sought them out with his hand made him purr like a cat.
She was also involuntarily learning other things that he clearly enjoyed with each passing day, though he never spoke of it aloud.
When they were outside, he liked her hair to be braided the way Visenya wore it according to legends, when her body was framed by a riding, leather garment, emphasising her girlish curves.
It stimulated his imagination, but also gave him a sense of closeness by the fact that they looked so similar.
As long as they were among other people, she never approached him or spoke to him first – even when she was practicing archery in the same courtyard where he and Criston Cole were sparring, she didn't disturb them.
She knew he didn't wish it – the example of Lady Floris had shown her what happened when someone kept invading his space and forced him into a proximity he wasn't comfortable with.
She felt his gaze on her, saw in his healthy eye that he was thinking only of what he had done to her during the night and what he would do to her in the evening, that he would summon her again, unable to deny himself the warmth of her body in his bed.
The situation changed completely when she crossed the threshold of his chamber and they were left alone behind a closed door.
He liked to sink his hands into her curls, so her hair had to be loose, on her body only her nightgown and a thin robe – he knew that no one but him had ever seen her in such a negligee, slowly slipping off all parts of her attire, leaving her bare and exposed at last.
It wasn't long before he was joining her, though then he was always vigilant and tense – most notably when she pulled off his eye patch. He watched her then with a stony face, as if for some reason he was afraid to see a smirk of mockery or anything else that would be proof that she was deceiving him, she, however, was entranced by the beautiful blue sapphire shining in his eye socket in the candlelight.
She loved untying the black ribbon from his long white hair.
"– you look like a demigod –" She whispered once without thinking as they lay side by side on his bed, looking at each other, panting heavily after their intense closeness.
She saw that he froze, his eye grew large in disbelief, his lips pressed into a thin line in shame.
"– what do you mean? –" He asked, lying on the bedclothes on his stomach as she did, their heads lying so close together that their noses were almost touching.
She lifted her hand and combed gently through strands of his smooth hair.
"– when your beautiful snow-white hair is loose – you look like some kind of heavenly being with your bright eyes – your face and muscular figure remind me of sculptures of ancient warriors carved in marble –" She muttered in shame, wondering what had occurred to her to say such a thing, her fingers ran over his cheekbone, her gaze fixed on his jaw.
She heard him swallow loudly, looking at her in a way she rarely saw, only when he was surprised and completely vulnerable – his pupil was large, his gaze warm, his expression gentle, his full lips parted slightly in disbelief.
She moved closer to him and cuddled her face into his shoulder, feeling like a fool after what she had said, thinking that he must surely have felt embarrassment at her words, that he would never let her stay in his bed again.
He, however, embraced her and snuggled her into his body, stroking her soft dark curls, her back and her buttocks with his broad hands, gently kissing the top of her head again and again.
He answered her nothing, but that night he did not allow her body to move away from his even a little, keeping her locked in his embrace – she smiled involuntarily feeling that each time he awoke he checked that she was covered in fur and brushed her shoulder with his fingertips, returning to sleep.
Although she had to get through the thick, high wall he had created around his heart each evening, their mornings were sweet and tender.
She was always awakened by the touch of his soft, moist lips on her forehead, his thumb stroking her cheek, his warm breath indicating that he had been awake for some time but wasn't going to get up for a while yet, wanting to enjoy her closeness.
"– hāedar –" He murmured at last, running his hand down her bare back, gliding his fingers as if he were treading water with them.
"– no – just a little longer –" She whispered pleadingly, and he merely hummed under his breath and cuddled her tighter into his chest, allowing her to remain in his embrace.
She usually left before the servants brought him his morning meal – she knew that he would probably let her eat with him if she so wished, it even seemed to her that a part of him would enjoy it, however, she did not want to cross the line.
There was more gossip about them than both of them would have liked anyway.
The fact that news was spreading through the Red Keep like the wind she saw in the displeased look Criston Cole turned towards her as she passed him in the corridor.
"Is the Prince hurting you, my Lady? He is frightening and cold in manner, I am afraid to look at him." Said Lysa, weaving her hair into a braid, her riding attire on her body as it was her turn to fly on patrol around King's Landing.
She involuntarily smiled at her words, feeling a pleasant pulsing between her thighs at the memory of what she had done to him the night before.
The sweet, boyish moan he had let out when he had come deep in her mouth.
She was convinced that she would eventually vomit or suffocate, shocked by the sensation and how much pleasure it gave him, his gaze full of disbelief and fulfilment, his tender arms that embraced her, his lips kissing her forehead.
Gōntan nyke ōdrikagon ao, zaldrītsos?
Did I hurt you, little dragon?
Little dragon.
She liked it when he called her that.
Little dragon, little sister, sweet girl.
He did it to reward her, when he wanted to be tender and gentle, when, satisfied and fulfilled, he fell asleep beside her in a warm bed.
"He doesn't hurt me. On the contrary, I enjoy the time spent in his company. Unlike Ser Criston Cole, who, it seems to me, despises me." She said lightly, casting her a meaningful glance in the reflection of the mirror.
Lysa blinked and furrowed her brow.
"Ser Criston should despise himself above all. He and the Queen only pretend to be humble and full of virtue by day, spending all their nights with each other." She said disapprovingly, and she involuntarily burst out laughing.
"How do you know such things?"
Lysa smiled mockingly.
"Servants know everything, my Lady. You at least don't pretend to be someone you're not." She said and paused as the door to her chamber opened suddenly.
Prince Aemond stepped inside with a confident, lazy stride, erect and proud, not even bestowing a single glance on Lysa.
"Leave us." He commanded, towering over her figure seated in a chair.
Lysa bowed to him, pale, and left quickly without a word.
She blinked, looking straight into his face without fear, waiting for him to convey to her what he had come to her with.
"Today I will be patrolling the skies. We have received reports that a dragon has been seen nearby. It will be safer if me and Vhagar check it first." He said calmly, and she nodded, thinking he didn't need to explain himself to her or come in his own person to tell her this.
He could have simply sent his servant to her.
But he decided otherwise, and she didn't mind.
"Very well. So I will stay and repeat what you taught me last night." She said softly, smiling involuntarily when she saw that his pupil had turned dark, his lips parted slightly at the memory of what she had done to him.
He knew she had teased him.
He took a step towards her, and then another, making her have to lift her head higher to look at his face. She swallowed quietly, feeling a pleasant shiver run through her warm cunt as he ran his thumb over her cheekbone, looking at her as if he was thinking about something.
"Alone? How will you know you're not making the same mistakes? Who will guide you?" He asked softly, cocking his head to the side, his breath deeper and louder.
She looked down and saw that even though the material of his tunic covered that part of his body, his erection had swollen all over, forming a bulge.
She swallowed hard as she saw his hands slide down to his belt, which he undid with a loud click and then did the same to the buckles of his tunic, causing her to breathe louder and louder, feeling both terror and arousal at the same time.
"– do not fret – easy – I acted a little exaggerated last night – you surprised me –" He gasped, untying his breeches with his long fingers, releasing his hard, swollen manhood.
It seemed absurd to her, but his words soothed her.
For some reason, she knew he regretted letting his emotions take over.
She leaned in, gently grasping the base of his throbbing cock, the skin of it soft and delicate, placing a warm, gentle kiss on the pink head of it.
He sighed, sinking the fingers of his hands into her hair, holding her close to his lower abdomen, rubbing his length against her face – she slid her tongue out, running the tip of it over the skin of his fat erection, and he swallowed loudly, trying not to make any humiliating sound.
She closed her eyes, concentrating on his scent, thinking in the back of her mind that he had taken a bath before he came to her – she felt the pleasant, warm throbbing of her womanhood coming to the satisfying conclusion that he had planned this.
He was unable to last into the evening.
"– mmm – yes – just like that – take your time –" He whispered, as if how gentle, slow and tender her caresses were gave him even more pleasure, the thought that she wasn't doing this out of obligation, that she wasn't disgusted by him or despised him.
No.
Her feelings for him were complicated, but deep.
She opened her eyes as her lips traveled up his erection, squeezing it at the root with lazy, sure strokes from which it hardened like rock – she met his eyes, his gaze hot and misty, his lips parted wide in an exasperated breath.
He wanted it, she could feel it in the soft roll of his hips, begging wordlessly for her to let him inside her.
She closed her eyes and spread her mouth wide, leaning lower – she heard his loud sigh as the tip of his length hit the back of her throat. His fingers clenched tighter in her hair, responding to her movements as she began to suck on his manhood, following his advice breathing loudly through her nose in an attempt to control her gag reflex.
His hips began to force his erection deep between her moist lips with slow, steady thrusts, as if he wanted to savour what he was just looking at, her tongue trailing lazily over the delicate structure of his manhood full of his pulsing veins.
"– yes – oh, gods, hāedar –" He exhaled, tilting his head back, speeding up involuntarily with a loud grunt of delight, his thick cock throbbing all over in her mouth, disappearing between them again and again with loud clicks of her saliva.
She could have hurt him, she could have bitten him, squeezed him harder and caused him pain, humiliated him, destroyed him as a lover and a man.
But she didn't.
She was wet.
Her hand began to stroke the base of his manhood harder when she felt it begin to pulse aggressively deep in her throat, clearly close to fulfillment.
"– fuck – fuck, don't stop, don't stop –" He muttered, panting loudly, chasing his peak, his hips with sharp, fast thrusts slamming between her swollen, wet lips with her moan of exertion.
She felt tears run down her cheeks, one of her hands clenched on his cock and the other on the material of his tunic, thinking that she would endure this, that she would give him what he desired and fulfill his fantasy.
"– y-yes – yes, gods, swallow, swallow, swallow –" He commanded with a loud groan of pleasure, and she felt his seed spill over her tongue – this time she knew what to expect and immediately swallowed his spend, and then again and again, breathing hard through her nose, feeling her heart pounding like mad.
His release was sticky and slightly salty, like nothing she'd ever tasted before.
It tasted like sin.
His hips stilled between her lips, his half-hard manhood throbbing greedily deep in her mouth while they both breathed hard, trying to calm themselves. She heard him swallow hard and then he gently slid his length out of her with a loud smack.
She didn't know why she tightened her hands on his back and hugged herself to his stomach, why she felt warmth when he froze and then embraced her slowly, snuggling her into him, stroking her hair with his fingers.
"– I haven't wasted a drop this time –" She cooed, smiling with amusement and she heard him snort with laughter, surprised apparently by her directness and the fact that his approach didn't scare her at all.
"– indeed – I'm afraid I'm going to make more use of those moist lips – and in return –" He gasped and didn't finish, running his fingertips over her bare neck making her leaking, twitching cunt pulsate around nothing.
"– I'm wet –" She whispered and felt his manhood respond before he could react in any way, throbbing hard, pushing between her breasts.
"– how much? –" He breathed out, clamping his fingers down on her flesh, as if her words meant he couldn't just leave it like that.
"– very much, lēkia – my womanhood is all soaked and pulsing with pain –" She mumbled, snuggling into him tighter, feeling her nipples harden all over at her own words.
In a moment, he lifted her from her seat and pushed her onto the table, forcing her to lie down on it – it wasn't a comfortable position, but she didn't think much of it when she spread her thighs in front of him and let his hands undo the ties of her breeches.
He leaned over her, looking down at her with his lips parted in lust, his gaze dark and filled with something that both terrified and attracted her at the same time – she moaned involuntarily, writhing before him and as he rested one hand against her head and slid the other under the material of her trousers, sinking his fingers into her leaking, swollen cunt.
"– quiet – good gods – so wet just from sucking my cock – you have no fucking shame –" He hissed coldly, and she threw her head back as his fingertips immediately pushed against her quivering slit, invading her insides, hitting her sweet spot again and again with aggressive, sharp thrusts.
"– oh gods, oh gods, ah, lēkia, yes –" She whimpered, clamping her hand on his arm wanting more, more, harder.
"– shut the fuck up –" He growled through clenched teeth, quickening his pace – she saw out of the corner of her eye, looking down, that his manhood was thick and hard again, sticking out from between the fabric of his breeches.
"– lēkia – help me – save me –" She mewled, feeling her hot, fleshy walls begin to tighten around his fingers, his sigh of satisfaction and desire making her feel that she was close, so close.
"– come on – soak my fingers – please your brother –" He breathed out and she came with a loud, girlish cry of delight, feeling tears of relief run down her face as wonderful waves of fulfilment shook her body, a pleasant tingling in her fingertips, her lips, her nipples and her throbbing, greedy cunt.
"– that's it – easy now – easy –" He hummed, just looking at her, holding his two fingers deep inside her, focusing on the way her warm flesh pulsed around them, soaking his whole hand.
She knew he would leave; she knew he had to, and perhaps it wasn't his desire at all but still the way his fingers slid out of her body, his look turned away as he knotted his breeches testifying that he was back in the fortress of his mind made her feel an uncomfortable ache in her heart.
"Come to my chamber tonight, as usual." He said, forcing himself to be indifferent, and left, leaving her lying on the table.
She closed her eyes and exhaled loudly, for some reason feeling tears under her eyelids.
She covered her face with her hand and burst into silent sobs.
Who was she?
His whore?
His lover?
His pet?
His object?
His whim?
She couldn't decide.
Whatever she did she would not be his sister.
Not really.
She swallowed hard and breathed deeply, wiping the warm wetness from her cheeks, trying to calm herself, thinking it didn't matter.
She was what he wanted her to be.
Nothing more.
Just when she was deciding she didn't care, the evening came, and then the night, and with it his hungry mouth sunk into her throbbing cunt, his tongue thrusting again and again deep inside her, building her way to her fulfilment.
His face above hers, his sapphire and eye fixed on her, soft strands of his hair teasing her cheeks before he leaned lower and his lips clung to hers in a sweet, soft, wet kiss.
They lay on their sides facing each other, cuddling their bodies into each other's in a tender, thirsty embrace, their lips finding each other in new, deep, soft caresses almost as if they cared for each other, almost as if they missed each other, almost as if they were happy.
Almost.
His broad hand ran over her hair and face, the tips of his fingers trailing over her cheekbone, jaw and neck, his gaze fixed on her, his lips slightly parted.
"– aōha laesi issi hae zōbrie hae lī hen iā myrdys (your eyes are as dark as those of a doe) – gevie (beautiful) –" He whispered, and she felt a squeeze in her heart and burning tears under her eyelids.
Don't do this to me, she thought.
Don't give me hope.
She snuggled into the hollow of his neck, drawing in the air loudly, not wanting him to see the tears running down her cheeks, and he simply kissed her bare shoulder, enclosing her in his embrace.
"– ȳdra limagon daor, zaldrītsos – aōha lēkia iksis kesīr –" He whispered, but his words only made her whoop with her own tears.
Do not cry, little dragon.
Your brother is here.
Gods, how she wished she could love him.
But she couldn't.
She couldn't offer him her heart because she knew he would crush it the moment he ripped it from her chest.
And then she unintentionally told him his mother's secret and saw his real face for the first time.
His tears, his despair, his figure curled up as if he were a infant in her arms.
She was horrified by how vulnerable he was.
How fragile he was.
She realised that the rider of the greatest dragon in the world was a scared little boy.
Some part of her wanted to protect him.
When the King summoned her to a meeting of the Small Council she wondered what had happened – she guessed it had something to do with Cole's and their army's march on Harrenhal, praying that it would turn out that his brother had told him everything, as she had requested.
As she stepped inside, her one-eyed cousin gave her a quick glance, a serenity in his healthy eye.
They both knew that she would spend this night in his bed too.
"What is this important matter that could not wait any longer?" The Queen Mother asked, and everyone's gaze turned to the King.
Aegon grunted and nodded, spreading himself comfortably in his chair at the head of the table.
"I wish to relieve our subjects who live in hunger. This fucking blockade has gone on for too long and I have decided to take measures to remedy it. Greyjoys are tactically avoiding choosing sides in this conflict, and only their fleet could face the Velaryons. In such situations, things are usually resolved through marriage. Lord Greyjoy has two sons, Toron and Rodrick, who are looking for a suitable candidate to marry. My mother and I believe that our beautiful cousin and her dragon will meet all of their father's requirements."
She felt her heart stop for a moment as she looked at him dully, not believing that this was really happening.
My mother and I believe that our beautiful cousin and her dragon will meet all of their father's requirements.
No.
No. No. No. No. No.
Here was her home.
Here, with him.
Alicent looked at her son, who was as shocked as she was, his eye and mouth wide open in panic.
Help me, she thought in her head, feeling her body begin to tremble.
Protect me.
"You knew it would end like this. Your irresponsible behaviour forced us to take the right steps." Queen Alicent said, and she clenched her hands into fists.
You are fucking your guard.
You're as much a whore as I am.
She swallowed hard and looked at her king-cousin, feeling her eyes glaze over with tears.
"– here is my home, my King – please –"
"It would happen sooner or later. Better sooner, given the rumours that reach our ears about where you've been spending the last nights. My brother did not deny it, conversing with me today, that he is taking advantage of your…kindness. I want to put an end to this sinful practice." He interrupted her and she was already about to answer him, but they were interrupted by another, familiar voice.
"No." Her lēkia said. "She is a Targaryen. 'Tis I, as your younger brother, who, by all rights, have precedence to her hand."
She is a Targaryen.
'Tis I, as your younger brother, who, by all rights, have precedence to her hand.
Good gods, he wanted to marry her.
He wanted to marry her to protect her, so that she would not lose her home or him.
I will care for you, and your place will always be by my side.
Aegon only smiled at his words.
"You can bed whomever you want, brother. But it is I, as King and her protector, who will decide who she marries, and sooner Vhagar will fit into the Dragon's Pit than I'll give you her hand." He said, causing heavy tears to run down her cheeks one by one.
Why?
"Why?" Asked her cousin at the same moment in a way that made her feel a squeeze in her heart, his voice breaking as if he was really in pain, his eyebrows arched in despair.
"Good gods. Since when can the Kingdom afford marriages out of the need of the heart? Your subjects are starving. This agreement can make us break the blockade. Are your desires more important than the sake of the Realm?" Aegon sneered, and she burst into a loud sobs, hiding her face in her hands.
They will send her away.
She will lose everything again.
She'll be a nobody again.
She will become another man's toy.
"My decision is final. I will have the crow sent to the Iron Islands with our generous offer later today. That is all."
Her lēkia came to her chamber despite the fact that the evening had not yet dawned and she was always the one to visit him – she threw herself into his arms and cried out loud, overcome by complete hysteria, his hands clamped on her body.
"– no – please, don't let him do it, don't send me away, don't send me away, don't send me away –" She begged him and heard him swallow hard, his lips placing warm, tender kisses on her face.
"– shhh – shhh, sweet girl – I won't –" He assured her.
"– you're lying – you're going to sell me, you're going to abandon me like he did –" She sobbed, choking on her own tears, tightening her fingers on his back.
Don't leave me, don't leave me, don't leave me.
She sighed as he grabbed her by the hair and gently tilted her head back, forcing her to look at him.
"What did I tell you? Back then, when we were lying under the stars. What did I promise in return for you taming a dragon?" He asked quietly, and she swallowed hard, looking at him with big eyes.
"– that my place will always be by your side – that you will protect me – that I will be your little sister –" She mumbled out with difficulty, and he closed her face in his hands and pressed his forehead to hers, exactly as he had done then.
"– and you are –" He hissed, his fingers clamping in her hair. "– you are fucking mine –"
You are fucking mine.
For the first time, it was he who stayed in her chamber – they just lay together in her bed, taking off all their clothes beforehand and kissed, stroking their naked bodies with their hands.
She fell asleep in his embrace drenched in tears.
She didn't believe him.
She did not believe a word he said.
She knew he was just telling her what she wanted to hear, so that she wouldn't panic and run to her father, changing sides at the last moment.
During the night she dreamt that despite her cries and pleas he had stabbed a dagger into her heart, telling her that after the war was over she had become a threat to him, that she and her dragon were no longer necessary to him.
"Did you really think I would let you live?" he asked, and she awoke with a cry of despair, clutching at her heart, on which she clasped her hands.
"– gods – what is it? – what happened? –" She heard his sleepy muttering beside her, his hand touched her shoulder, and she pulled away from him as if burned, thinking that he really wanted to do this to her.
He really wanted to kill her.
He looked at her with big eyes, the pain of rejection in his gaze, as she pulled away from him despite him extending his hand to her.
"– breath, hāedar – a bad dream? –" He asked and she nodded, whooping, unable to catch her breath.
"– yes –" She mumbled out.
He swallowed hard, making a renewed attempt, this time touching her calf, stroking it reassuringly, and she didn't move away.
It was only a dream.
"– Daemon? –" He asked further, and she shook her head.
"– you –" She mumbled, his eye big in shock. "– you stabbed me in the heart – and asked if I really thought you would let me live –"
She mouthed with difficulty and burst into sobs, hiding her face in her hands.
She heard him freeze in disbelief, breathing loudly, his hand clamped down on her ankle.
"– gods, hāedar – no – no, come here –" He muttered, grabbing her arm, and she shook her head, wanting to pull away from him.
"– please – don't deceive me anymore – we both know that when this is over you will kill me –"
"– no –" He exhaled, pressing his forehead against hers, clasping his fingers in her hair. "– I wanted to do it – then, in the Vale – but I wasn't able to – I won't hurt you – after the war you'll stay by my side – as you are now –" He gasped out, pressing his lips, swollen with emotion to hers in loud, aggressive, desperate kisses.
"– warming your bed while you're married? –" She breathed out into his throat, responding to his caresses, melting with him into one in greedy, passionate dance of their slick tongues, their hands enclosing them in their tight embrace.
"– you are the one I will marry –" He growled, as if her words enraged him, turning her onto her back, his knee forcing her aggressively to spread her thighs apart.
They both sighed and froze when she felt the tip of his swollen cock push against her throbbing slit.
"– A-Aemond –" She mumbled out terrified and aroused, feeling the movement of his hips push his hard erection deeper into her with their loud, surprised moans.
She felt she struggled to catch her breath, stretched to the limit on his throbbing manhood, strangely filled, at his mercy.
Her hands clenched on his naked, muscular arms as he lay on top of her and pressed her to the bed, her plump breasts pressed against his torso, the fat head of his cock deep inside her.
"– I can't take it anymore –" He breathed out, and she whimpered, tilting her head back, feeling him thrust deeper and deeper into her, pushing against something inside her that made her feel discomfort and stinging pain. "– I crave you –"
He said and covered her mouth with his hand when finally with one, violent push he ripped something deep inside her, making her squirm in pain, tears of exertion and horror running down the sides of her face, her whole body quivering.
Gods, he had taken her maidenhood.
If part of her had wanted this for so long, why was she so terrified now?
"– shhh – shhh, little sister, the worst is behind us –" He exhaled tenderly, pulling his hand away from her mouth, allowing her to take a deep breath.
"– I'm scared –" She mumbled in a voice trembling with fear and his eyebrows arched in pain at her words.
He made no movement, looking at her as if worried and concerned, stroking her cheek with his fingers, trying to soothe her, his swollen manhood throbbing hard deep inside her.
"– do you want me to stop? – I will if you want me to – forgive me –" He whispered at last in a voice breaking with shame, as if he was horrified by what he had done and how he had achieved it.
She swallowed quietly and shook her head, thinking that if he did this, something would end between them – he would feel rejected and not want to touch her again, and she needed him, craved him and what he was giving her.
He sighed, pressing his face against hers, kissing her plump, hot cheek with some kind of gratitude, as if he appreciated her effort, understanding that she was doing this for him.
"– don't be afraid, zaldrītsos – we'll do it slowly – I won't hurt you –" He assured her, stroking her head as if she were a small child, his forehead pressed against hers.
She sighed as he gently slid out of her before sinking unhurriedly back deep into her body, making a sound stuck in her throat – this experience, of another body deep inside her, filling her to the brim, was so foreign and strange that she didn't know how she should react or what to feel.
He pulsed aggressively inside her and he was hard – a quiet moan rippled out of her throat each time he opened her wide again and again on the thick part of his cock with quiet clicks of her wetness – she closed her eyes as she felt him begin to hit the sweet spot he always sought with his fingers with each thrust, and the first waves of pleasure flowed along her spine like a tingle.
"– ah –" She mewled, opening her eyes, meeting his heated gaze, their breaths heavy and raptured – she dared to let go of his shoulders and slide her hands down his back, to his buttocks, clamping her fingers on them, emboldening him to move inside her faster.
"– does it hurt? –" He breathed out, thrusting into her a little more confidently, stroking her hot face, wet with tears, with his thumb, kissing the tip of her nose again and again, brushing her puffy lips with his own.
"– n-no – not anymore – but – how should it look? – how have you done it with other women? –" She gasped in a trembling voice, and he stopped moving, looking at her with his mouth wide open.
"– do you want to see for yourself? –" He asked, and she nodded.
"– fuck me –" She whispered.
Fuck me.
She gasped and closed her eyes, throwing her head back when he pounded aggressively into her core with a throaty groan of pleasure, as if he himself was surprised at how pleasurable it was, slamming into her with loud, sticky splats of their bodies against each other.
He moved inside her so fast that she could only spread her thighs wider, crossing them over his sweaty back, their moans pathetic and high-pitched as he hit the same wonderful spot deep inside her tight cunt with each push, himself clearly taking immense satisfaction from this wet, intimate act.
Their hands clenched helplessly on their bodies as their hips began to meet – she felt that what he was doing to her dulled her to pain, instead arousing tension in her loins that grew and grew in her lower abdomen, making her leak all over, soaking his cock with every sharp thrust he made.
"– fucking mine –" He hissed through clenched teeth, locking her moans between his lips, which he pressed against hers in an aggressive kiss – she felt his tongue invade between her teeth, repeating the movements of his hips, forcing itself deep into her throat just as his swollen erection burst between her fleshy, throbbing walls.
She was unable to take a breath between his one thrust and the next, panting hard along with him, her core slick and warm, despite her initial resistance accepting him now with ease.
He pressed his fingers against her bare skin, pounding into her with low grunts of pleasure so fast that he no longer slid out of her, his gaze fixed on their joined bodies.
"– vok syt nyke (perfect for me) – ao se aōha byka orvorta (you and your little cunt) –" He praised her, and she spasmed in euphoria as she felt something approaching – she seemed to howl his name as the aggressive, overpowering pleasure shook her body, loosening her completely, pulling a sigh of relief from her throat, tears of emotion and exertion rolling down her red cheeks.
"– oh gods – oh gods, yes, yes, yes, hāedar –" He gasped out and closed his eye, coming so hard that he cried out along with her, a convulsion shaking his body, and then she felt something warm spill inside her in waves.
His seed.
He came inside her.
Good gods, she thought, lying with closed eyes completely without strength, her hands placed numbly on either side of her head.
She sighed as his body fell against hers, their breaths heavy and hitched, their bodies hot and sweaty, his half-soft manhood still pulsing deep inside her.
It was such an intimate sensation, so strange and sticky – two bodies being one, him, filling her to the brim.
"– I will take you as my wife as soon as I return from the battlefield – I promise –" He breathed out into her ear, and she closed her eyes and swallowed hard, wondering why he was saying that.
"– your brother will never agree to this –" She whispered, feeling that she was a different person now.
She was no longer a maiden.
She twisted restlessly in her place hearing that his silence answered her, his face nestled against her temple, the tip of his nose sinking into her cheek before he whispered the words into her ear as if he was telling her his secret.
"– leave it to me –"
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