#it just touched on a very primal fear of mine | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dollgxtz · 5 months ago

Text

His Watchful Eye Pt. 3

Word Count: 9k

Tags: yandere!sylus, sylus x fem!reader, noncon, dubcon, drugging, kidnapping, obedience training, mentions of suicide, forced breeding, forced pregnancy, stalking, pet names like kitten, sweetie, pretty, ownership, manipulation

Taglist: @ngh-ch-choso-ahhhh, @eliasxchocolate, @nozomiaj, @xmiisuki, @sylus-kitten, @its-regretti , @m0onlustre , @ve1vet-cake @letgobro @starkeysslvt, @yarafic, @prince-nikko, @leialmela

AN: It seems like these chapters just get longer and longer xDD. Hope yall don't mind! This is also on my A03 if you feel its too long to read on tumblr. Please heed the warnings and don't read this if you're sensitive to the subjects. Also! Reader has no specific skin tone, I just use images I think represent the chapter well, you can imagine her however you want! If you want to be added to the taglist please let me know, also please make sure your tumblr settings allow you to be tagged! <3

"I hate you," you whisper, your voice barely audible, muffled by his chest. The words come out broken, hollow, lacking the fire they once carried. But it’s all you can manage, the last flicker of resistance in a sea of overwhelming fatigue. "I know," Sylus replies, his voice soft and almost indulgent, as though your hatred is just another part of the game to him. He holds you tighter, his hand continuing to caress your hair. "But it doesn’t matter, sweetie. You’re mine now. Hate me all you want, I’ll still take care of you."

Read Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 4

You ease yourself into the bath, the water just a touch hotter than you'd like, enveloping your skin in a near-burning sensation. It’s almost too much, the heat prickling at your body, but you stay still, letting the warmth slowly settle around you. Steam rises in soft, curling tendrils, and you can feel the tension in your muscles begin to release, even as the heat clings to you, almost suffocating in its intensity. Your breath catches for a moment, but soon you adjust, your body reluctantly surrendering to the soothing, yet overwhelming, embrace of the water.

Despite the searing heat, you slowly begin to lose yourself in thought. When was the last time you'd allowed yourself to truly relax since this whole nightmare began? As much as you hated to admit it, the water felt good—comforting even—offering a fleeting sense of escape. For once, your worries seemed to dissolve into the bathwater, sinking like stones to the bottom. No thoughts of impending doom, no fear lurking at the edges of your mind. Just you, the gentle bubbles, and the soft, soothing scent of cherry shampoo drifting in the steam.

And no Sylus.

Your face twists into a scowl at the very thought of him. No. This was supposed to be your time, a moment for yourself. You can’t let him invade this too. Don’t think about him, you urge yourself. Focus on the bath. Focus on the warmth. Desperate to banish any trace of him from your mind, you sink lower into the water, leaving only your nose and eyes above the surface, your breath shallow as you try to disappear beneath the heat.

But it doesn’t work. His presence lingers in your thoughts like a shadow you can't shake—the memory of his touch, his voice, the sickly sweet promises he’d whisper after those twisted "sessions."

Before you can stop yourself, you plunge fully beneath the water, submerging yourself entirely, as if you could drown his memory along with your thoughts—perhaps even drown yourself if that’s what it takes to make it all stop.

The deafening roar of water fills your ears, muffling the world around you. Instinct keeps your breath held tight, but a dark thought persisted—what would happen if you really… let go? Sylus has made it clear he has no intention of releasing you. Maybe this, right here, is your only way out.

A tightness coils in your chest as your body begins its primal fight for air. The burning need to breathe claws at your lungs, but there’s no panic—just a calm, almost eerie resolve. Slowly, deliberately, you part your lips, ready to let the water rush in. This is it. Your escape. The only freedom Sylus can't take from you.

Death.

You wonder what kind of face he would make when he would discover your barely warm body bobbing in the bath water, having escaped the clutches of his captivity in a way he could not undo.

You wished you'd be around to see it.

Just as the warm sensation of water touches the back of your throat, a sharp tingling prickles across your scalp. A second later, you're violently yanked from the water, gasping for air as the bathroom floods back into focus. You blink wildly, clearing the stinging bathwater from your eyes, only to be met by a familiar face.

"Why willingly subject yourself to waterboarding?" Sylus asks, his tone laced with disappointment, as if you’ve failed some unspoken test. You glare at him angrily, grabbing at the grip he has on your hair.

"Don't tell me I'll have to supervise your baths too?"

"Let go!" you shout, clawing at his fingers, desperately trying to free your hair from his grip. To your surprise, he does, and you quickly retreat to the far edge of the tub, pressing your back against the cool porcelain. Water clings to your skin, dripping down your face as you try to steady your breath. His eyes roam over you, calculating, as if taking in every detail. Suddenly self conscious of your naked figure, you hug your arms around your breasts. You notice, for the first time, the shopping bags dangling from his other hand. He sets them down with unnerving care before casually crossing the bathroom to grab a stool.

You watch warily as he pulls it up beside the tub, seating himself directly across from you, his eyes never leaving your face.

"I wasn’t trying to kill myself," you snap, your voice sharp as you avoid his gaze. "I’d rather not give you more reasons to watch me."

Sylus chuckles softly, clearly unfazed by your defiance, as if your words barely register. Without another glance at you, he begins rummaging through the bags at his feet, his movements methodical and unhurried. After a moment, he pulls out a small white box, and you narrow your eyes, watching as he carefully peels away the packaging. Something small and silver tumbles into his palm, catching the light.

"Nail clippers?" you ask, disbelief creeping into your voice.

He nods, then casually tugs down the collar of his shirt, revealing the jagged red scratches you had raked across his skin during the last time he had forced himself on you. The sight of them makes you smirk—small, uneven lines, but they’re there, vivid reminders that you hadn’t gone down without a fight. You can almost feel your nails digging into him again, that brief moment of satisfaction before he'd pinned you, your resistance crushed beneath his weight.

"The first step in taming an angry kitten," he muses with a grin, "is taking her claws." His voice is disturbingly light, almost playful, as he reaches out toward you.

You hesitate, staring at his outstretched hand. Your instincts scream at you to pull away, but what choice do you have? Reluctantly, you slip your hand into his, your fingers trembling ever so slightly as he curls his hand around yours. His grip is firm but not harsh, his skin warm against your own, the casual dominance in his touch making your stomach churn. He watches you closely, his gaze never wavering, as if daring you to resist.

"Isn't that called declawing?" you mutter bitterly, trying to keep your voice steady as you avert your eyes. You watch instead as he presses the clippers to your nails, the metal cool against your fingertips. The soft snip of each nail being cut echoes in the quiet bathroom, a steady, unnerving rhythm.

Sylus smirks, tilting his head as he replies, "Oh?" His tone is amused, almost mocking. "Would you rather I pull them out instead?" His voice remains calm, and you're unsure if he's joking or not.

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. Each clip of the clippers feels more invasive than the last, stripping away not just your nails, but a part of yourself—your small weapon of defiance.

It struck you as odd. Just yesterday, the two of you had been locked in a bitter struggle on his bed—panting, groaning, bodies slick with sweat, fighting for entirely different goals. For him, dominance. For you, escape. And now here he was, calmly and methodically clipping your nails, the act almost tender, as if you were lovers sharing an intimate moment.

Neither of you speaks until he finishes. Sylus turns your hands over slowly, inspecting his work with the same detached precision, ensuring he’s clipped them short enough. Finally satisfied, he releases your hand, letting the clippers fall from his grasp with a metallic clatter against the bathroom floor. You frown down at the newly cut length of your nails, feeling stripped of yet another small defense.

Before you can dwell on the thought, he leans over the bath, his face inching dangerously close to yours. There's hardly any space to retreat, and you’re forced to face him, your breath catching in your throat as his presence looms over you. His lips find the soft skin of your neck, leaving light, deliberate kisses that send a shiver of tension through your body.

Sensing your stiffness, he chuckles under his breath, the sound low and familiar, before cupping your face in his hand. His fingers are firm, cradling your jaw with unnerving gentleness.

"Relax..." he whispers, brushing his lips against yours in a soft, almost teasing kiss. "I won’t do anything now. Didn’t I promise you a break?"

His words echo in your mind, bringing with them the memory of his promise from this morning. Instead of threatening you for obedience, he’d dangled a twisted form of kindness—a reward, rather than punishment. A carrot, not a stick.

Promising that if you didn't put up a fight this morning, that would be the only time he would be inside you that day.

You would have been an idiot to refuse such an offer. Almost daily assaults had left you feeling sore and exhausted. Sure, you knew he was offering you crumbs of kindness as a way to train you into obedience but you were much stronger than that. He wouldn't break you so easily.

You simply hummed and nodded in agreement, giving him a small kiss back. You had come to learn that the quicker you returned his affection, the sooner he would relent. It worked, as he almost immediately smiled and leaned back on the stool. He suddenly reaches is arm up and looks at the watch on his wrist.

"Come on out. I bought a few things for you, sweetie," Sylus says softly, his eyes drifting back to your still-exposed body. You tense instinctively, sinking lower into the water as if it could shield you from his gaze. His words may be gentle, but the weight of his attention feels oppressive, suffocating.

Sensing your discomfort, he lets out a quiet laugh. "I’ll turn around. Just don’t try drowning yourself again," he chuckles, as though reading your mind. True to his word, he turns his back to you, but the tension in the room remains thick, your heart pounding in your chest. You wish, more than anything, that he would just leave, give you a moment of peace, but you know better than to ask.

With a deep breath, you grip the edge of the tub, steadying yourself as you rise from the water. The cool air hits your skin, a stark contrast to the heat of the bath, and your wet feet make a quiet slap against the cold tile as you step out. Quickly, you reach for the white towel resting on the sink and begin to dry yourself, moving with an urgency spurred by your skepticism that Sylus will stay turned away for long.

As you dry yourself, you notice something unexpected—when you reach between your legs, your hand freezes. A slight gasp escapes your lips as you spot it: crimson streaks, trailing down your inner thigh. For a moment, you stare in disbelief, watching the droplets of blood slowly slide down your leg. Then, reality hits, and you frantically press the towel to your skin, catching the blood before it can reach the floor.

"What's wrong?" Sylus asks, his voice suddenly alert as he turns his head, catching your gasp. His eyes lock onto the bloodstained towel, his posture shifting as he steps toward you, concern etched across his face. "Are you hurt?"

You swallow hard, a strange mixture of emotions flooding through you. "My period..." you say softly, almost under your breath, but then, a smile creeps onto your face, one you can't suppress.

Relief crashes over you like a tidal wave. You’ve never been so happy to see blood in your life.

You aren’t pregnant. You aren’t pregnant.

Your mind races, the implications still sinking in. It’s not over, but for now, you’re safe. Your hands shake as you pull your gaze from the red stain, your breath coming in short, shaky bursts. Then, a creeping awareness settles in—you aren’t alone.

Sylus is standing behind you. You feel his presence before you see him, the weight of his silence pressing against you. You quickly wipe the smile from your face, the relief vanishing as you turn slowly to face him.

"My period... it’s just my period," you whisper, your voice trembling, barely able to hold steady. You try to read his face, desperate for any sign of how he’s reacting. His expression shifts—concern morphs into a frown, and then... nothing. His face goes blank, like a mask slipping into place. You search frantically for any flicker of emotion—anger, frustration, relief—but it’s as though he’s walled himself off, unreachable.

Was he angry? Disappointed? You couldn’t tell, and that terrified you. Your stomach twists in knots, anxiety bubbling up again. The relief you felt moments ago is quickly replaced by a new dread. One disaster averted, but what now?

"Right," he says calmly, his voice devoid of any warmth, as though this is just another mundane detail in his well-controlled world. He reaches for the bloodied towel in your hands, his movements smooth and deliberate, like nothing about this situation surprises him. "Don’t worry about this. Just finish dressing."

He leans down, pulling open the cabinet under the sink. Your heart skips a beat as he sets several packages of pads and tampons on the counter, each one the exact brand and size you regularly use. A cold chill runs down your spine. How long had he been watching you before bringing you here? How much does he already know? The intimate knowledge of your life, right down to your feminine products, feels like another layer of control—a calculated invasion disguised as care.

"If you don’t want to use these, I’ll have Luke and Kieran get different ones," he says, his tone disturbingly casual, as though this conversation is perfectly normal.

Your throat tightens. "No, these are fine... thank you."

He gives a slight nod, but it’s mechanical, his face still unreadable, and he turns to leave, collecting the rest of your discarded clothes from the bathroom floor. His steps are quick but unhurried, a man always in control of his actions, of everything around him. He leaves you standing there, shaken, and once again, you feel small under his gaze. Whatever he’s feeling, he’s locked it away. You’ll never know unless he decides to let you.

The door closes behind him, and you’re left alone with your thoughts—and the creeping realization that you may never be truly alone again.

After gathering enough courage to leave the bathroom, you cautiously crack open the bedroom door. You peer out, spotting Sylus lounging on the leather sofa, his eyes glued to his phone. His posture is relaxed, casual, as if nothing unusual has happened. But the moment you step into the room, he looks up—his gaze sharp, as though he’s been waiting for you.

"Took you long enough," he says, a smirk playing at his lips, amusement evident in his voice. The cold, distant air he had in the bathroom has vanished, replaced with the easy confidence you’ve come to expect. He’s back to being the Sylus you recognize, the one who shifts between charm and control like flipping a switch.

You force a smile, trying to match his casual tone. "Yeah, well, drowning myself was starting to seem tempting again," you quip, keeping your voice light. You move past him toward the bed, wanting nothing more than to put some distance between the two of you. But before you can get far, his hand shoots out, wrapping around your wrist with a gentle but firm grip. The sudden contact sends a jolt through you, freezing you in place.

His touch isn’t rough, but there’s something in it that holds you captive, a subtle reminder of the power he holds. You glance down at his hand, then back up at him, unsure whether to pull away or let him guide the moment.

"Are you hungry?" he asks, his voice soft now, almost concerned. But the question hangs in the air, heavier than it should be.

"Oh! Uh... yeah?" you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. As much as you wanted to ignore him and crawl into bed, the thought of food was too tempting to resist. Sylus stands, his grip on your wrist still firm, tugging you toward the bedroom door.

Your heart skips a beat as you watch him press his finger against the scanner beside the door. Why is he letting you this close? The lock hums and with a soft click, the door swings open. You stare at it, a thousand questions racing through your mind.

He turns back to you, his playful demeanor from moments ago evaporating in an instant, replaced by something darker, colder. His eyes lock onto yours, and suddenly, the atmosphere feels suffocating.

"Behave," he says, his voice low and serious. "Don’t wander off without me, and if you try anything... you won’t leave this room or the bed for weeks. Understood?"

The threat in his words chills you to your core. You're frozen in place, trying to process what’s happening. Is this real? Are you dreaming? Why now? The door stands open before you, a symbol of freedom, but it feels more like a trap, a carefully laid test. The air between you crackles with tension. One wrong move, and you know there will be consequences.

You shake your head quickly, pushing aside any fleeting thoughts of rebellion. Not now. Not yet.

Trying to break the moment, you turn your gaze toward the unopened bags still sitting in the corner of the room. "Didn’t you say you bought me some stuff?" you ask, your voice tentative, eyes flicking toward the bags. "I’m curious about what’s in them."

Anything to steer the conversation away from the potential threat.

"It’s okay, you can look at them later" Sylus says, his voice smooth and reassuring as he swings the door open wider. The invitation seems casual, but there’s something unsettling about how easily he offers it. His hand loosens slightly around your wrist, though he doesn’t let go completely, as if to remind you that the freedom he's offering has limits.

Your eyes flick from the open door to his face, searching for any hint of what’s really going on. His expression is calm, almost too calm, as if he’s in complete control of the situation, confident that you won’t dare make a move without his permission. The open door, the promise of something beyond this room, suddenly feels less like an escape and more like a stage he's set for you.

Every instinct in your body screams that this isn’t as simple as it looks. It’s a test, another subtle power play to remind you where you stand. The reassurance in his voice only deepens the pit in your stomach. He’s letting you out, but on his terms.

You force a nod, trying to swallow the growing unease. "Okay," you murmur, though the word feels foreign in your mouth, like you’re agreeing to something you don’t fully understand.

Sylus smiles—a small, practiced curve of his lips, but his eyes remain unreadable. He steps aside, making room for you to pass, yet the tension in the air doesn’t dissipate. It lingers, wrapping itself around you like a noose tightening with every step you take toward the door.

As you step cautiously past the threshold, the hallway beyond the door reveals a world of striking opulence. The air feels cooler, heavier, carrying the scent of leather and polished stone. Beneath your bare feet, the floor is a dark, sleek tile, almost black, with a high gloss that catches the low light and reflects distorted, shadowy images of the surroundings. Each step echoes slightly, the subtle tap of your feet magnified by the smooth surface, giving the space a cavernous, eerie quality.

The walls are a deep, charcoal black, lined with intricately carved molding that runs up to the high, coffered ceilings. Elegant sconces along the walls cast pools of soft, amber light, their glow bouncing off the glossy tiles, adding an extra layer of depth to the room. The lighting is deliberately dim, creating an atmosphere of perpetual twilight, where shadows stretch and warp across the dark floor, leaving certain corners cloaked in deeper darkness.

To your left, a grand staircase spirals down, its wrought iron railings twisting in elaborate, almost gothic designs. The banister is polished ebony, gleaming faintly in the soft light, while the steps are lined with a deep, crimson runner that stands in stark contrast to the black tiles, offering a rare touch of softness amid the cold, hard surfaces. The staircase seems to descend endlessly, vanishing into shadows that hint at more hidden secrets below.

Expensive art lines the walls—large, dark oil paintings that seem impossibly old, their subjects watching with melancholy or judgment. The frames are thick, gilded with gold, though their luster is muted with age. Between the paintings, mirrors with heavy, ornate frames reflect fragments of the space, but never enough to give you a full view—only glimpses, distorted by the interplay of light and shadow.

Despite the mansions undeniable beauty, there’s a coldness that seeps through the dark tile, a chill that seems to rise from the floor itself. Every detail, from the smooth tile to the velvet drapes, feels curated and perfect, yet it lacks any warmth or comfort. The space feels like a cage disguised in luxury—beautiful, yes, but suffocating in its grandiosity.

"Kitchen is downstairs" Sylus says, nodding in their direction. You quietly make a mental note of everything as you descend. This is your chance to map out the house, make a potential escape route. Even if Sylus was close behind, you shouldn't waste this opportunity gawking at everything. So he's filthy rich, so what?

Your eyes flit from the deep shadows that pool in the corners of the hall to the heavy drapery that conceals what’s outside. Every window, every door, every hallway could be a potential escape route if you ever get the chance. You tell yourself to remember where they are, how the house is laid out. A plan begins to form in the back of your mind, hazy but determined. One way or another, you’ll need to know this place inside and out.

Each step down the staircase feels like a test, a countdown of sorts. The further you go, the deeper you descend into Sylus’s world. The weight of his gaze makes it hard to breathe, but you know you can’t falter now. You keep your pace steady, your face expressionless, pretending that this is just a simple walk down the stairs, but inside, your thoughts race. Every second counts, and you’re not going to let this moment slip away unnoticed.

The rich, savory smell of roasted chicken invades your senses as you reach the last step, filling the air with an unexpected warmth. The faint crackle of fire and the clattering of pans echo from the nearby kitchen, the sounds weaving into the dark, quiet luxury of the house. It’s a stark contrast to the cold, empty grandeur surrounding you—this small slice of normalcy, of life. But the moment feels fragile, like it could break at any second.

Your foot barely touches the last step when Sylus’s hands clamp down on your shoulders. The sudden contact sends a jolt of fear through your body, your heart lurching as you instinctively jump.

"You’re jumpy," he says softly, his voice smooth but carrying a hint of amusement, as though your fear is entertaining to him. The warmth of the kitchen clashes with the cold tension between you, and the contrast makes the moment feel surreal.

Sylus guides you away from the comforting noises of the kitchen, leading you into a room that exudes the same dark, expensive elegance as the rest of the house. The atmosphere shifts as you step into the space—less intimate, more like a showpiece designed to impress rather than to live in. It’s reminiscent of a living room, though everything feels just a little too perfect, too polished.

Your eyes widen as a massive flatscreen TV comes into view, its size nearly absurd against the backdrop of rich, dark wood paneling and plush furniture. "Huh? I didn’t know they made TVs this big..." you whisper, the words slipping out before you can stop them. The screen is so large, it feels more like a home theater than a living room—something you’d only expect to see in movies or magazines. While the Hunter's Association paid you well, this level of luxury was foreign to you, something you'd never even considered owning.

Sylus follows your gaze to the screen, his expression unreadable. "Is something wrong with it? Too big? I can have it downsized," he offers casually, though his eyes search yours intently, as if he’s genuinely concerned about your comfort. His suggestion catches you off guard, and you cock your head in confusion. Why would he even suggest such a thing?

"No! It’s fine," you say quickly, shaking your head, still baffled by his willingness to adjust even something so extravagant for you. "I’ve just never seen one this huge."

Sylus nods, seemingly satisfied with your response, and motions toward the sofa. "Sit," he says, his tone soft but commanding. The sofa is deep, covered in smooth leather, and it practically swallows you when you lower yourself onto it.

He wastes no time sitting next to you, checking his watch again. You fiddle nervously beside him, feeling out of place in such a space. First he lets you out of his room for the very first time in weeks, and now the both of you are sitting on the couch casually as if this was routine.

You desperately wished you could tell what he was thinking.

"Chef should be done in a few minutes" Sylus said, interrupting your anxious thoughts. He tenderly intertwines his fingers with yours, lifting your hand up to press a soft kiss against your knuckles. His gaze is unwavering as he looks at you.

Your gaze shifts, briefly breaking away from his piercing eyes, and lands on a shelf in the corner of the room behind him. Something there catches your attention—an old, meticulously cared-for record player. Its polished surface gleams in the low light, a relic of a different time. It’s beautiful in its simplicity, standing out against the modern opulence surrounding it. You wonder briefly about its significance. Why something so old in a house filled with the latest luxuries?

But the question fades as Sylus’s thumb gently strokes your hand, pulling your focus back to him. He's being tender right now, and feeling bold, you start talking.

"I didn't think the leader of Onychinus would live in such a grand place" you say calmly, eyeing his reaction. Instead of anger of irritation, he simply smiles as if he already realized you had figured out his identity.

"Oh? What were you thinking then?"

"Well...I figured you would be in hiding" you say plainly, gritting your teeth a bit. "This place is pretty easy to spot. Lots of hiding places too."

Sylus chuckles as if you just told him something funny. "Sweetie nothing gets in or out of this place without me knowing, that's hardly a worry"

You mentally curse yourself. Of course he has cameras. Why wouldn’t he? A man like Sylus would never leave anything to chance, especially not in a place like this. Escaping wouldn’t be as simple as memorizing the layout of the house. You’d have to make it past the cameras, the eyes constantly watching, recording every move. The realization makes your stomach sink. Even your thoughts of escape feel smaller, less attainable now.

The air grows thick with the scent of steam and roasted chicken as a figure appears around the corner. The chef, an older man with deep-set lines in his face, moves with quiet precision. He says nothing as he places an exquisite spread of chicken and side dishes on the table in front of you. Everything looks impossibly perfect—the golden-brown skin of the chicken, the vibrant vegetables, the delicately arranged plates. It’s the kind of meal you might see in a restaurant you could never afford, yet it feels out of place here, too refined and elegant for the suffocating tension in the room.

The chef doesn’t speak, not a word, but he gives a small nod in Sylus’s direction before quietly retreating from the room. His presence, brief and silent, only adds to the strange, controlled atmosphere. You find yourself wondering if he knows—if he’s aware of the twisted dynamic at play here—or if he’s just another piece of the puzzle that makes up Sylus’s meticulously crafted world.

For a moment, you think about the cameras again. They’re watching, just like Sylus. Always watching. You force yourself to focus on the meal, trying not to give away the panic bubbling beneath your calm exterior. You smile faintly, but your mind races with the next hurdle: it’s not just about getting out of the house, it’s about getting out unseen.

Sylus glances at you, his hand still resting on yours. "Eat," he says softly, his voice smooth but with an edge of command beneath it. The invitation sounds pleasant, but you know better. This isn’t a request.

You nod, swallowing hard, a knot of anxiety tightening in your throat. You start with the green beans, methodically chewing, your mind already strategizing. Green beans—protein and energy for running. Every bite, every move from here on out has to be deliberate, with purpose. Escaping this place was never going to be easy, but now it feels even more impossible. Still, you cling to the idea that preparation is key. You’ll need your strength for when the time comes.

As you chew, you glance at Sylus and notice something unsettling. He hasn’t touched his plate. His gaze is fixed on you, watching, as if he’s waiting for something. The unease that had been simmering beneath the surface now starts to bubble up. You meet his eyes, silently questioning why he’s not eating. He smiles tenderly.

"I’ll be tracking your ovulation window from now on," he says casually, as though he were discussing the weather. "Since you’ve gotten your first period since staying here, now would be a good time to start."

The words hit you like ice water, chilling you to the core. You freeze, your fork halting mid-air as the meaning of what he said sinks in. The casualness of his tone, the way he drops such a personal, invasive statement into the conversation as if it’s nothing, leaves you reeling. He’s watching you, gauging your reaction, his smile lingering in the same unsettling way.

The room, with all its lavish furnishings and exquisite food, suddenly feels more like a cage than ever. It’s not just about being physically trapped anymore—it’s the knowledge that even your body is under his control. He’s tracking you, monitoring the most intimate parts of your life. Any illusion of autonomy shatters, leaving only the cold reality of how deeply he intends to dominate every aspect of your existence.

You force yourself to swallow the bite in your mouth, your heart pounding in your chest. Stay calm, you tell yourself. Don’t react. Not yet.

"That won't guarantee a baby" you retort, trying your best to hide a scowl. You know you’re pushing him, testing the boundaries, but the words slip out before you can stop them. The shift in his expression is immediate. The amusement that once danced in his eyes evaporates, replaced by something darker, more calculated.

His face contorts into a deep frown, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he processes your defiance. For a moment, he says nothing, and the air between you feels charged, thick with unspoken tension.

"Maybe not the first time," he starts slowly, his voice dropping a notch, finally picking up his own fork. His tone is calm, but there’s a cold edge to it, like he’s already several steps ahead in whatever twisted game he’s playing. "Or the second time."

He takes a deliberate bite, chewing slowly, his eyes never leaving yours, as if daring you to interrupt. After what feels like an eternity, he swallows and leans back against the sofa, his gaze sharp and unrelenting.

"But it will eventually."

The words hang in the air, a dark promise. His voice is measured, controlled, but beneath the surface, you can feel the underlying threat. Sylus isn’t just talking about biology; he’s making it clear that he will keep trying, over and over again, until he gets what he wants. The casual way he says it, as if it’s inevitable, sends a shiver down your spine.

The words settle in your mind, their dark implications unfurling like a slow, creeping poison. You can’t take it anymore—the calm, the control, the endless power games. Something inside you snaps. The fear, the careful restraint you’ve held onto for weeks, crumbles all at once. Before you can stop yourself, you slam your fist down onto the table, the sharp clatter of silverware echoing through the room.

"Do you even hear yourself?" you shout, your voice shaking with rage. "You think this is some sick game? You can’t just… you can’t control my body like that! You can't just—" Your voice breaks, the dam of emotions bursting wide open. "You think you can force this? That you can just keep me here, like I’m some… some breeding stock? Like I don’t have a say in my own life?"

Your breath comes in short, ragged bursts, your heart pounding in your ears. The words are spilling out now, unstoppable. "You think tracking my ovulation, making your plans—doing whatever sick family fantasy thing you have in mind—is going to work? You have no right! No right to decide what happens to me, no right to decide my future for your delusions!"

Sylus's fork clatters back onto his plate, his face blank at first, but the tension in the air is palpable. He doesn’t interrupt, just watches as you lose control, like he’s waiting for something—maybe for you to exhaust yourself, maybe for you to break down entirely. But you don’t care anymore.

"You’re insane!" you spit, your voice cracking as the emotions surge, unstoppable now. "This whole place—this whole twisted world of yours—it’s a prison. Do you even get that? It doesn’t matter how much money you throw at it, how many things you control, it’ll never make you anything but a monster!"

The words hang in the air, trembling with the rawness of your outburst. Your chest heaves, your hands shaking uncontrollably. You’re on the verge of tears, but you refuse to let them fall. Not in front of him. Not now.

"I'll kill myself before any child of yours ever calls me mom" you say, your words ringing through the still and quiet mansion.

Sylus’s expression shifts, the mask of calm slipping ever so slightly. His eyes narrow, and his lips press into a thin, tight line. For a moment, the room feels like it’s holding its breath. Then, as if something in him cracks open, he smiles. A slow, unnerving grin spreads across his face, the darkness in his eyes momentarily replaced by something even more disturbing—amusement.

You stare at him, dumbfounded, trying to process the sudden shift in his demeanor. The anger you had expected never comes. Instead, a low chuckle rumbles from his chest, growing louder, filling the room with an eerie echo that makes your skin crawl.

"Are you done with your little tantrum, kitten?" he coos, his voice dripping with condescension. The way he says "kitten" sends a shiver down your spine, the pet name laced with eerie sweetness. Without warning, he reaches out, gripping your wrist with an unsettling gentleness, pulling you toward him with ease.

Before you can react, he yanks you down onto his lap, forcing you to straddle him. Your body stiffens, the weight of him beneath you both unsettling and humiliating. You feel trapped, like prey ensnared in a hunter’s grasp. His arm wraps around your waist, locking you in place. You try to pull away, but his hold is unyielding.

"Poor thing," he murmurs, his voice soft but taunting as his fingers trail lazily up your back, "you’re just a little ball of anger, aren’t you?" His smile widens as his hand slides into your hair, gently tugging it, controlling even the smallest movements. You feel the tension in your body spike, but any resistance you try to muster is immediately swallowed by the cold reality of his control.

"You know," he continues, his tone light, almost playful, as if you weren’t just screaming at him moments ago, "I could let you keep fighting me. Let you wear yourself out like a kitten clawing at something it can’t catch." He chuckles again, his fingers tightening in your hair, forcing your head to tilt just enough so that you have no choice but to meet his gaze. His eyes, dark and unreadable, lock onto yours with a frightening intensity.

"But we both know how this ends, don’t we?" he whispers, his voice dropping into something dangerously low. His smile never fades, but the amusement in his eyes sharpens into something cruel. "You’ll tire yourself out. You always do."

A whimper escapes your lips as his grip tightens in your hair, the pressure mounting to the point where it’s impossible to hold back any longer. The tears you’ve fought so desperately to contain now spill freely, streaking down your cheeks. Your body trembles as the emotional dam breaks, the fear, frustration, and helplessness flooding out all at once.

Sylus notices. His expression shifts, softening in a way that feels strange. The cruel amusement that once gleamed in his eyes fades, replaced by something disturbingly gentle. He loosens his grip on your hair, letting his fingers glide down to your cheek. His thumb brushes away the hot tears, wiping them tenderly.

"Don’t cry pretty girl," he murmurs, his voice a quiet coo. The gentleness in his tone feels like a strange juxtaposition to the fear still gripping your chest. His other hand slides down to cradle your face, keeping you close, but no longer with the same force. "It’s okay. I promised I’d take care of you, didn’t I?"

He presses soft kisses on your lips as they tremble and you just let him, the weight of the situation crashing on you. "Just take my cum and have my baby, I'll take care of everything else. Doesn't that sound easy?"

You jerk your head away from him at the mere thought of him impregnating you.

He turns your head back towards him, his lips pressing a soft kiss against your tear-streaked cheek, the touch almost reverent. The sensation makes your skin crawl, the tenderness a cruel mockery of the power he so clearly holds over you. You want to pull away, but his hands keep you there, gently holding you in place as if to soothe the very tears he caused.

His lips move to your hand, kissing your tear-stained fist, as though he’s trying to console you after making you break down. The gesture feels wrong, every soft touch an extension of his control masquerading as care. He’s not only comforting you out of kindness and love but he’s reminding you that even your pain belongs to him, that he can take you to the brink of despair and then pull you back whenever he pleases.

"You can scream, you can break my things, you can throw tantrums, but in the end..." His voice lowers, chillingly calm. "You’re still mine. You still belong to me. Your anger? It’s nothing. It won’t change anything."

The room feels smaller now, his words wrapping around you like a vice, tightening with every breath. You can’t breathe, can’t think, the weight of the situation crashing down on you all over again.

"And as for your outburst..." he says, his lips curling into a faint smile. "It will have consequences."

Your body trembles as his thumb brushes away another tear, his touch tender, almost soothing. And despite the revulsion that twists in your stomach, despite every fiber of your being screaming at you to push him away, you don’t.

You can’t.

You’re just so exhausted.

Without even realizing it, you lean into him, your body betraying your mind. The weight of your exhaustion is unbearable, and the fight you’ve held onto for so long begins to slip through your fingers like sand. Your head rests against his chest, the steady rise and fall of his breathing providing a sick sort of comfort that you hate yourself for needing.

He holds you gently, his arm wrapping around your waist, securing you against him as though he’s protecting you. The irony is suffocating. This man, who has twisted your world into a living nightmare, is now the one offering you comfort. And as much as you despise him for it, for the control he wields over you, you sink deeper into his embrace, desperate for the warmth and the momentary relief from your own anguish.

"There you go," he murmurs softly, his fingers stroking your hair in long, calming motions. "See? It’s not so bad, is it?"

The words cut, each one a reminder of the power he holds over you, but you’re too drained to care anymore. The anger, the defiance, the hatred—it’s all still there, burning under the surface, but right now, the only thing you can feel is the weight of your own exhaustion pulling you down, dragging you into a state of reluctant surrender.

"I know," Sylus replies, his voice soft and almost indulgent, as though your hatred is just another part of the game to him. He holds you tighter, his hand continuing to caress your hair.

"But it doesn’t matter, sweetie. You’re mine now. Hate me all you want, I’ll still take care of you."

You hate him for saying it. You hate him for making you feel like you need him. But in this moment, you’re too tired to fight him. You allow yourself to collapse into the illusion of safety, just for a little while, even though you know it’s a trap.

You wake to the sensation of being moved, cradled like you’re something fragile. It’s disorienting at first, and for a brief, blissful moment, you don’t remember where you are. But then the cold reality slams into you.

Sylus.

Your eyes flicker open, and through the haze of sleep, you realize he’s carrying you. His arms are steady, but the feel of his hold sends a chill down your spine. You try to shake off the drowsiness, to push yourself upright, but your limbs feel weak and uncooperative.

"Shh," he whispers, his voice gentle, though it only makes the situation worse. "Go back to sleep. You’re safe."

Safe. The word rings hollow in your mind. You know better. Even though his touch is soft and careful, even though his voice is low and comforting, you know exactly where you are—exactly who holds you.

Your heart sinks as you hear the faint whirr of a door opening. He’s taking you back to the room, the one where you’ve spent so many weeks locked away, trapped. A lump forms in your throat as you realize what’s happening, but you’re too weak to fight it. You had a brief taste of freedom, even if it was a twisted version of it, but now he’s putting you back in your cage.

Sylus steps into his room, the dim light casting long shadows over the dark, lavish space. He moves with deliberate care, like he’s handling something precious, lowering you onto the bed with a gentleness that feels grotesque in its contrast to what he’s actually doing.

Your body sinks into the mattress, your limbs too heavy to lift. You manage a weak protest, a soft whimper of resistance, but he shushes you again, his hand brushing the side of your face with infuriating tenderness.

"Sleep, kitten. You need your rest."

He moves to the door, and you hear the unmistakable sound of the lock. The finality of it sends a fresh wave of despair through you. You’re back in the same room, the same prison, despite the moments of fragile comfort you had shared. It all meant nothing. You’re still his prisoner.

You turn your face into the pillow, tears pricking at your eyes once more, but you’re too drained to cry again. Your body aches, your mind is foggy, and sleep still tugs at you, relentless in its pull. You hate that you find any sense of comfort in the bed, in the quiet, but there’s no fight left in you tonight.

With the sound of the lock still echoing in your mind, you close your eyes and let yourself slip back into unconsciousness, knowing that tomorrow, nothing will have changed.

You wake suddenly, gasping for air, your skin slick with sweat. The sheets are tangled around your legs, suffocatingly warm. For a moment, you think it's just another nightmare—the kind that leaves you feeling claustrophobic and panicked—but the heat in the room is real, heavy, and stifling.

You sit up slowly, blinking in the darkness, your breath coming in shallow gasps. Something feels off. The usual low hum of electricity, the steady whir of the ceiling fan, the soft glow of electronics—they’re all gone. Silence presses down around you, and the air in the room feels thick and still, almost oppressive.

The power’s out.

It hits you slowly at first, like a distant thought struggling to surface. The heat, the silence... no fan, no lights. And then it clicks. The power’s out. The fingerprint scanner.

Your heart skips a beat, adrenaline spiking through your veins. No power means the security system that’s kept you locked in this room—trapped and helpless—is down. The scanner on the door, the one that’s monitored your every movement, is dead. It has to be.

This could be your only chance.

You stumble out of bed, your legs shaky, still groggy from sleep but jolted awake by the rush of adrenaline. Your hands tremble as you feel your way to the door in the dark, the oppressive heat clinging to your skin. The room is suffocating, the air too thick to breathe, but none of that matters now.

You press your thumb against the scanner, holding your breath. Nothing happens. The small screen remains black, unresponsive. It’s not working.

A flicker of hope flares in your chest. The lock isn’t powered. You press your palm against the door and push, feeling it give under your hand. Slowly, carefully, you ease the door open just a crack and peer out into the hallway.

The corridor is bathed in shadow, darker than when you last saw it. The ambient lights, the security monitors, everything is dead. The house is eerily still, the silence even more unnerving than before. You step into the hallway, your heart racing as you move forward, each step deliberate and cautious.

For a brief, terrifying moment, you expect to hear Sylus’s voice, or the sound of footsteps approaching from behind, but the house remains quiet. You know he has Luke and Kieran stationed somewhere, but for now, the way seems clear.

You make your way toward the grand staircase, remembering some parts of the house from earlier. The front door is just ahead, at the bottom of the stairs. The hallway stretches before you, dark and endless, but your pulse quickens with the possibility of freedom.

You take a breath and descend the stairs as quietly as possible, gripping the banister for balance. Each creak of the wood beneath your feet feels deafening in the stillness. Your eyes dart around the hallway, searching the shadows for any sign of movement.

Finally, you reach the bottom of the stairs. The front door looms ahead, and you move toward it, the air growing cooler as you get closer. Your hand reaches for the door handle, and just as your fingers brush the cool metal, you freeze.

Voices.

You hear them—low, muffled voices coming from outside the door. Sylus’s men.

"Shit, powers out. We gotta start the generators."

Your heart sinks. They're right outside. You cant go this way without immediately being manhandled.

You glance around frantically, your mind racing for another way out. The house is massive, full of rooms and corridors, but you have no idea where the other exits lead. Still, you can’t afford to stand here and think—you need to move.

Then you remember. The kitchen. Maybe there's a way out there?

It’s a long shot, but you don’t have any other options. You turn quickly, darting down the hallway, your footsteps light and deliberate on the smooth, black tile. The shadows seem to stretch and twist around you, and every small creak feels like it’s echoing through the silence. You try to keep calm, but the fear of being caught wraps tighter around your chest with every passing second.

You reach the kitchen, and the oppressive heat of the house seems to lessen as you step inside. The room is large and dark, no light to be seen through the windows. The scent of stale food lingers in the air, remnants of a meal long forgotten, but you barely notice it. Your eyes dart to the side door.

It’s small, barely noticeable in the corner of the room, half-concealed behind shelves and cabinets. The door leads out to the horse racing track—you remember Sylus mentioning it in conversation once.

You rush toward the door, your pulse thundering in your ears. You reach for the handle, your hand trembling as it wraps around the cool metal. For a brief moment, you fear it’ll be locked, that this last chance at freedom will slip through your fingers.

Thankfully, with a twist and a click it opens.

The space beyond the kitchen is nothing like you expected—no trees, no breeze, just the harsh, cold landscape of the N109 zone. The dark, black midnight sky looms over you like an oppressive blanket, thick and unwelcoming. No stars, no moonlight, just an endless void stretching above you. The air is still and stale, a reflection of the lifelessness surrounding you.

But you have no time to process any of it. You can’t stop now. You have to keep moving.

Your feet press into the cracked, uneven ground as you forge ahead, your breath shallow and quick. As you walk, the outline of several horse stables comes into view. The structures are dark, the animals inside unmoving, their silhouettes barely visible in the low light. Thankfully, the horses are all asleep. None stir as you pass by quietly, your body tense and ready to bolt at the slightest sound. The only thing you hear is the quiet crunch of your own footsteps on the rough surface beneath you.

Ahead, a tall fence looms in the distance, a final obstacle standing between you and the outer edges of the N109 zone. You approach it cautiously, your heart pounding in your chest as you study its height. It’s rusted and worn, but still sturdy enough to make the climb difficult. You don’t have time to think—you have to act.

Gripping the cold metal tightly, you heave yourself up, your muscles straining with each movement. Your hands slip slightly, the rough texture of the fence biting into your palms as you scramble to find footing. Panic flares briefly in your chest, but you grit your teeth and push through the fear. You can’t stop now.

Just as you manage to get a decent grip, you hear it—the unmistakable hum of power returning. Behind you, Sylus’s mansion springs to life. Lights flicker on in the distance, illuminating the cold, empty halls that only moments ago were shrouded in darkness. The power’s back. It won’t be long before they notice you’re gone. They’ll be coming for you.

It’s now or never.

With a final burst of strength, you haul yourself up the last few feet of the fence, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The metal digs into your skin, but you don’t care. You pull yourself over the top, balancing precariously for a moment before launching yourself over.

You crash onto the other side, landing face-first on the hard, unforgiving ground. Pain shoots through your body as your knees and elbows scrape against the jagged surface, but you don’t let it stop you. You’ve come too far to be caught now.

For a moment, you lie there, dazed and gasping for breath, the shock of the impact making your head spin. The cold ground beneath you feels like both a punishment and a reminder that you’re not free yet. Behind you, you can hear the faint sounds of activity from the mansion—the twins moving, footsteps echoing in the distance.

They know.

Ignoring the pain, you force yourself to your feet, your body protesting with every movement. The fence looms behind you like a dark sentinel, separating you from the life you’re fleeing. You don’t dare look back at the mansion, don’t give yourself the chance to second-guess your next move.

You start running.

The landscape ahead is bleak and dark, with nothing but cold, cracked streets in every direction. There’s no breeze, no noise apart from your labored breathing and the pounding of your feet against the ground. A few tall and bleak buildings reminiscent of a part of a city come into view. You start making your way there.

You’re outside. You’re running. And for the first time in what feels like forever, the possibility of freedom is real, even if it’s still far out of reach.

In the distance, perched on a dead landline, a mechanical crow preens its feathers. Its head jerks toward a running girl, its red eyes locking onto her figure. Without warning, it spreads its metal wings and takes off in her direction, gears whirring as it follows from above.

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genyawritesshizz · 4 months ago

Text

Promotion - Sentinel Prime X Reader

Spending your days endlessly mining energon you yearned to one day be promoted. To finally free yourself from the frame aching work of the mines. Yet when you catch the optics of the Sentinel Prime, that promotion may come at a terrible cost, maybe you should have read the fine print.

Tbh it’s very little plot mostly just smut.

18+ ONLY

IVE NEVER WRITTEN FOR TRANSFORMERS NOR HAVE I READ MUCH FIC OF IT BUT I TRIED TO GET THE TERMS RIGHT BUT YA KNOW, ITS A LOT.

Possible part 2, we’ll see how this does.

WARNING: Dubious consent, emotional manipulation, Power Imbalance, (TBH Sentinel is a walking red flag), Sexual Coercion, Size kink, SMUT, Cybertronian reader,

This is essentially just robot porn I'm sorry to all my anime followers :(

The first time Sentinel Prime had set his optics on you he knew, much to his initial disgust, he wanted you.

A miner.

Of all the femme’s at his disposal the one that at last managed to catch his gaze was a cogless, bottom level, miner.

“That thing?” With a snarled lip and multiple sets of trailing skeptical eyes, Airachnid's own revulsion was evident. Far down below the balcony on which they stood, walking the bustling city streets you at last returned to his hungry gaze.

“Unfortunately so.”

Primus, what an honor it was to be within the presence of Cybertrons protector, the bot who single handedly protected all Cybertronians from the Quintessons; Sentinel Prime.

After being approached by Arachnid and ordered to follow her you had initially feared you had broken an unknown protocol, resulting in a demotion. Yet much to your shock within the gold columned building you had been led to he was there.

The look of pure admiration within your optics as you stared up to him in awe coupled with the now quiet whir of your internal fans as your spark raced within his mere presence fed his already raging primal desire.

Such blind naivety.

"Walk with me. I’d like to discuss something important." His tone was warm but carried a weight of authority. One you could not help but blindly follow.

The two of you stroll through the empty corridors, arachnid standing guard just outside of its entrance.

“Tell me, have you always felt bound to the mines? Or have you ever imagined something greater for yourself?" You shift, pace faltering a smidge, taken aback by his directness. You're proud of your work as a miner but can’t deny that you’ve thought about rising above this level.

"The mines are… Well, they’re home. I have my friends down there. But I’ve always wanted to do more…to make a real difference for Cybertron."

Sentinel nods, his optics narrowing slightly. Searing blue scanned from the top of your dull paint chipped helm to your transfixed gaze, (noting how you subconsciously averted it away from him when noticing his search), down to your chin.

A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, signaling his satisfaction in finding whatever he had hunted for.

Vulnerability suited you well.

"I could see that. You carry yourself with a strength that is rare, even among the most seasoned warriors."

His confident stride deviates him closer to you and he lowers his voice just a touch.

"Cybertron needs warriors with your spirit. And not just in the mines. In places where real change can be forged."

His words spark something in you. Your gaze sharpened, instantly locking with his, the once thick humility gives way to a flicker of pride.

‘Is he going to promote me?’ You hopefully thought. You had been working your frame down to the wire for the last few rotations in hopes of this.

Sentinel picks up the change in demeanor immediately. Before continuing his sweet talk, he comes to a complete stop and turns towards you.

His frame is significantly larger than yours, as to be expected when comparing a cogless to a Prime.

Though, the way he truly towered over you left you feeling far weaker than usual as he had to bend down significantly to reach optic level with you.

"Too often, talents like yours go overlooked down there. Others might not see it, but I do. Imagine if you were to rise up, to stand among those who shape Cybertron’s future. Those who ensure our planet’s place as the greatest in the galaxy." With each passing word he had leaned closer, faceplate now mere centimeters from yours.

Your spark fluttered.

His venting flowed deliciously warm against your intake.

Proximity feedback signals fired on high and energon lines pumped furiously fast.

Yet despite your system's shock at his actions, you could not look nor move away.

“You really think… I could be that?”

A set of servos planted themself around your lower chassis, their span long enough to completely wrap around you.

Your servers struggled to process exactly what was happening, focusing solely on the swirling lights of blue that threatened to swallow you whole.

“I know you can.”

The digits ensnaring your waist tightened, pulling you flush against his wide frame.

His helm delved lower, denta lightly nipping at the sensitive wires between the spaces of your minimal plating.

The second you beeped in surprise then melted into his embrace, helm craning to the side allowing him further access, he knew once again.

You were not going anywhere.

But then again, why would you want to?

When your protector was so kind enough to show you, a nobody, such special affection.

Never had you anticipated that you would ever find yourself within a Primes personal suite yet here you were. Sprawled out atop a luxurious berth, hidden away from the rest of Iacon city, with desires you had never even thought to dream of coming true.

Your gracious leader's frame was reduced to a hunched, yet still ever imposing, form as he kneels between your legs. Your modesty paneling had long since been retracted, revealing your array to his hungry gaze, and allowing you to relish in all the new sensations your Prime was bestowing upon you.

No, in all your cycles you had never found the desire to fragbond with someone. Yet now as Sentinel Prime’s silver glossa ravenously glides through the throbbing mesh of your valve and mouthpiece occasionally latching onto your external node you cannot believe your hesitancy for such pleasures.

To think you had gone for so long without.

Not to worry, never again shall you ever have to suffer such a fate.

It is extremely out of character for Sentinel to give his partner's pleasure this way or in any way/to care about it.

Normally he wastes no time in pleasuring others, he was a busy man after all. Instead focusing solely on his own release within others bodies then disposing of them.

But something about having you pinned beneath one of his arms, the other easily reaching over your head to hold your wrists down, the way you cried out for him, your Prime, and to be completely at his mercy…It has his spike twitching beneath his own paneling.

Savagely he feasts upon your now swollen valve, thick glossa entering your spasming opening, nose buried atop your external node.

“M-my, oh Primus! - My Prime I-” You were completely unfamiliar with the feeling boiling inside you, it felt as though a coil was winding. Each intrusion of his glossa only pulled it tighter.

“That’s right, say my name.” A smug smirk tugged itself into the corners of his faceplate before he delved back where you so desperately wanted him.

You looked and sounded both pathetic and desperate.

He loved it.

“Sentinel!”

Overloading into the mouth of said mech was absolutely euphoric.

Though despite your high, he was left utterly displeased to hear you leave off the Prime in your cry.

He had earned that title.

It was his name.

You would learn the error of your mistake soon.

He did not ask permission to continue.

Standing up from his crouched position, the grip that once held you down now flipped you onto your chest plate and dragged you towards the edge of his berth, allowing your legs to dangle off the edge.

Even on the tips your pedes you would still not touch the golden floor beneath.

Positioning your aft up into an arch he at last retracted his paneling, allowing his spike to spring free.

Central processor still short circuiting under the throws of overloading, you did not even notice the shift in position.

Once your intake had returned to normal your mind followed suit, catching up to the reality of what was happening.

Yet it was too late to protest as something sickeningly thick prodded at your valve's still quivering entrance.

It felt like far too much.

Trying to squirm away from it you're met with a dark chuckle and thick digits atop your shoulder, easily pulling you back down into position.

“Where do you think you're going? We're just getting started sweetspark”

The moment the head of his spike entered, you felt an immediate sense of dread wash over and a cold shiver through your struts.

“Too big...” Your vocalizer had barely returned, causing the whine to sound utterly pitiful, drowned in static and served only to feed Sentinel's ego.

“Hm? What's that?” Leaning over your form, faceplate centimeters away from your audio receptors, steam rolled with his words; fogging over the heaving metal of your shoulder plates.

“Frag…You-You’re too big.”

“Oh, do you want me to stop?” His tone was high in pitch and laced with manipulation. “You wouldn’t want to disappoint your Prime now would you?”

A strangled whimper and a shake of your head ‘no’ gave little confirmation to his taunt in ‘permitting�� him to keep going, not that he cared whichever direction your response led.

Even if you wanted to stop, you had no power to break away from him.

A deep, dominating, chuckle bubbled within his chest plate. “I thought not. You’re serving me, a great honor really.”

It felt like being pried open, the way his spike speared into your clamping valve was utterly painful.

Despite your cries you attempted to stay still as the gold winged Prime behind you continued to push further.

Each half centimeter only served to strengthen the burn.

Halfway in you had closed your optics, denta plates gritted tightly shut.

“Take it all, I know you can.”

The same four words that once filled you with hope now filled you with burning heat.

You will take what he is so graciously giving you.

Finally, after what felt like eternity, his entire spike was successfully sheathed inside.

Though this was just the beginning.

“So tight,” Your body was clamped around the intruder in a vise grip. Desperately begging for it to be removed. “So small.”

His pace was brutally fast. The servos on your shoulder and hip kept you from escaping or sliding too far away from his attack.

Surprisingly, after a few klicks, the tight inner calipers of your valve slowly loosened. His spike, now slathered in a combination of fluids, began sliding without much resistance.

At last, a few surges of pleasure coursed through your system.

Soon both of you were grunting, occasionally moaning. Though your sounds far outnumbered his.

Your servos clenched into the smooth bedding atop his berth, surely tearing the fabric though in this moment neither of you cared. However it was something he would be sure to punish you for later.

“You're mine, little miner.” His hips pistoned faster, slamming against your aft, surely to leave you sore. “All Mine.”

In response all you could do was hold on tighter, moaning louder with each intense slam.

“I’ll. never. let. you. go.” Each word sent another wicked surge into your swollen valve.

Blind sighted by the throes of pleasure bordering on overstimulation his words simply did not translate in your faltering audio receptors.

Though he meant every bit of it.

Helm falling back and a loud moan echoing throughout the gold-plated room, his overload blazed hot through his system. Filling your already stuffed valve to the brim with his transfluid.

Fans whirling on high, neither of you moved from your conjoined position for a few klicks.

After he's regained his senses fully, he removes himself from your valve, being sure to marvel at his work of completely ruining your once virgin body with a devilish smirk. Admiring the way his bright blue transfluid seeped from your still clenching valve.

Though this will be far from the last time he sees you like this.

With wobbling arms, you attempted to rise, though as you began to lift yourself up a large servos pushed you back down.

"We're not done."

True to his word, you had earned a promotion.

Fitted with only the finest armor paneling and a fresh coat of paint you had earned yourself the pristine position of his pet.

A position you held with utmost dignity, after all you were serving your Prime.

#sentinel prime #sentinel prime x reader #transformers one #female reader #one shot #smut #dubc0n #transformers fic #Wrote this instead of sleeping #valveplug #cybertronian reader

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magnagaruzenmon · 21 days ago

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Bunny Breeding

A little short piece inspired by my friend.

Tags: bunny hybrid male reader x bunny hybrid Tsuki and lioness hybrid Chowon

Tsuki arrived at your house for game night. You hadn’t seen her in weeks—not since she started working in the so-called “dungeon.” When she walked into your home, the air shifted. Gone was her usual cute and ditzy demeanor, replaced by an aura of sultry confidence. She moved like a predator who knew exactly how to corner her prey. When her eyes met yours, you felt something stir deep within—a primal instinct you didn’t even know existed. Your pulse quickened, and a wave of dizziness washed over you.

Tsuki’s eyes flicked over you, sharp and calculating, before softening with an apology. “I’m so sorry, bestie. I shouldn’t have come,” she murmured, her voice low and almost purring. Despite the words, her lips curved into a teasing smile as if daring you to protest.

You closed the distance between the two of you, your heart racing. “But we haven’t hung out in forever! Ever since you started working in that dungeon, it’s like you disappeared. I’ve missed you,” you said, the words spilling out faster than you intended. But with every step closer to her, the stirring inside you grew wilder, hotter—like something clawing to get out. Your body flushed, heat spreading from your chest to the tips of your ears, and your breath hitched.

Tsuki tilted her head, her golden-brown eyes glinting in the dim light. “You shouldn’t have missed me so much,” she said, her tone lilting, playful—and dangerous. Her gaze trailed over you, lingering just a beat too long. “It’s already starting, and if I stay... I might ruin you.”

Her words sent a jolt through you, equal parts fear and something intoxicating you couldn’t name. “What’s going on?” you asked, voice shaky but desperate to understand.

She sighed, but how her lips parted and her eyes lingered on yours made the moment feel anything but casual. “Every hybrid has... a presence inside. Something primal. It’s part of who we are, buried under our human side and locked away by sheer will. But certain things can crack that lock open.” She stepped closer, her fingers brushing against yours as if testing your reaction. Her touch left a trail of heat, and the faintest smile tugged at her lips. “When the lock breaks, we change. I’ve already changed... and now, being near me unlocks yours.”

Your thoughts raced, overwhelmed by her words, her presence, the sheer magnetism rolling off her in waves. “Is that... bad?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

Tsuki’s grin deepened as she took another step closer, her hand trailing up to brush a strand of hair from your face. Her touch lingered just long enough to make your knees feel weak. “That depends,” she said, her voice honeyed and rich with mischief. Her eyes gleamed as her lips curled into a devilish smirk. “How close do you feel to your bunny?”

She leaned in, her breath brushing against your ear. “Because mine’s very close to the surface. And she’s dying to play.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine, every nerve in your body suddenly alive. Tsuki pulled back just enough to lock eyes with you, her lips inches from yours, daring you to respond. Your mind broke as you felt your instincts overwhelm your mind. You brought Tsuki in for a deep desperate and messy kiss. Her tongue danced with yours for a bit causing you to thrust into her involuntarily. Tsuki gasps before wrapping her hands around your face. She smiles and then says,

“Do you feel the rush? Every single part of you dialed into 11. The need to breed endlessly?” Tsuki says before your eyes roll back. You feel something inside you hiss as your eyes come back into focus. Tsuki’s sultry smile greets you as you begin to strip.

Taking the hint she follows suit taking off her white sweater and revealing her lithe form. You salivate as you take your cock out. You’re unbelievably hard for her and you barely stop long enough to get a couple of strokes in before Tsuki as she stares at your cock hungrily. You two take a moment as the lust ferments between the two of you until you mount Tsuki.

“Such a big bunny!” She gasps as she feels your cock kiss her cervix. Tsuki begins to ride you and something inside you just breaks. You growl as your eyes dilate. Feeling the need to mark Tsuki you lean forward and lightly suck on her collar.

"Oh does my big bunny wanna mark me?" Tsuki said as her walls clenched your cock. You moan uncontrollably as she bounces up and down riding you until you can't take anymore and you cum inside her. You groan as your orgasm seems unending, but eventually it subsides. However, you can't stop, as your cock doesn't go soft, and your lust spikes again. Tsuki moans as her eyes level with yours. She sees your half-lidded eyes and she comes,

"Oh did I break your little bunny mind." your ears twitch as you keep thrusting into Tsuki who's surprised at your vigor.

"Oh my bunny still has energy?" she asks you groaning as you thrust into her tight walls. Tsuki moans uncontrollably as she feels your cock continue to kiss her cervix. Unable to stop you keep fucking Tsuki.

One orgasm turns 2, two orgasms turn into 4, and four orgasms turn into 8. eventually, Tsuki passes out. On your cock after the 8th orgasm for her. She moans deliriously before passing out, but you're still hard. You fucking groan in anger, but you are a respectful hybrid and so you tuck a passed-out Tsuki into your bed and let her rest for the night.

After doing so you stare at your hard cock. It hasn't gone down in three hours. You sigh as it throbs violently. You need more. you remember a story your friend told you about how lioness hybrids when in their heats, need to mate 100 times.

After railing Tsuki to unconsciousness you find yourself still hard. You need more. You start stroking yourself off to hopefully ease the ache but it doesn't. You need more. You need more.

You decided to call your lioness hybrid fwb, hoping she can ease this emptiness you feel.

Chowon sees your call surprised. answers and is surprised when she hears, “Mommy I need you.” you whimper. Chowon responded to your pleas with

“Does my bunny need his mommy?” she teases and you barely whimper out a yes. Chowon licks her lips at your neediness “I'm coming bunny,” she says.

You whimper helplessly as you wait. Your body and nerves are on fire as you try to fight your unrelenting arousal about 30 minutes later Chowon arrives. She is beset by the scent of your arousal. It's wildly different to her than normal, usually to her you smell light and faint but now it's intense as if you're going through a rut. She feels her become drenched as she opens the door. She’s surprised to see you open it naked and your cock harder and bigger than she’s used to seeing it.

“Fuck bunny what’s gotten into you?” she asks as she kisses you.

“Tsuki!” “She broke me, and I can't stop,” you say as you drag the lioness hybrid into your home. As she enters she notices your scent intensify 100-fold. As she is surrounded by your arousal, which you barely contain you kiss and mewl into her nipping at her collarbone and grinding into her. Overwhelmed Chowon stops you by slowly rubbing your ears. The sensitivity gets to you as you cum immediately. Chowon smiles hoping to calm you down but it only further breaks your mind. All you can think about is sex and no matter how hard you try to focus your body just screams at you to breed.

Chowon barely has time to take off her sex jacket before you are back on her again.

You knead her firm buoyant breasts and as you do Chowon is overtaken by your scent and goes into heat. She lowers herself down to your cock and smiles as she strokes you.

“You're so hard for me bunny. I guess I'm the only one who can satisfy you,” she teases before wrapping her bountiful breasts around your manhood. You groan as she slowly works her tits around your shaft. Up and down they go driving you crazy with pleasure, but it's not enough you need to be inside of her cunt fucking her full until she's pregnant with your litter.

So you lift Chowon into a full Nelson (much to her surprise) and you gently ram into her. Her lioness tail wraps around you as she moans grateful at being full. She's lost in the pleasure as you pound her aggressively tight cunt. You can barely take as you cum again, and again and again before your mind fully leaves you.

By the time you finally regained sense you and Chowon were covered in each other's cum. As you move from the couch Tsuki walks in and says,

“Well, how does it feel” you growl as your cock hardens again and you say,

“Fucking fantasy now bend over,”

#k pop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #tsuki billlie #billlie smut #tsuki x male reader #lightsum fanfic #chowon fanfiction #chowon smut

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mommyownsmee · 28 days ago

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A LETTER TO MY SUBMISSIVE

You are mine. Completely, utterly mine. That truth is carved into the very essence of you, woven into every breath, every heartbeat, every tremor that courses through you when you hear my voice. You belong to me—not just in the ways that are visible to the world, but in the places no one else dares to touch. Your surrender is not something I take lightly; it is sacred, raw, unfiltered, a gift I will always treasure and fiercely protect. No one else could ever deserve this version of you. No one else could even begin to understand the beauty of your submission.

You don’t just crave me; you need me. It’s in the way your body aches when I am not near, the way your thoughts spiral without my guidance, the way your soul feels untethered until I ground you again. You thrive under my control, and without it, you would simply unravel, lost and adrift. You are whole only when you are mine, and I love that you know this as deeply as I do.

I have memorized every part of you—every sound you make, every quiver of your skin, every fragile gasp that escapes your lips when my hands claim you. You don’t realize how breathtaking you are when you give yourself over to me so completely. When you strip yourself bare, not just of your clothes but of your walls, your fears, your resistance, and offer everything you are at my feet, I see you in a way no one else ever could. You are perfection, and I hold that perfection in the palm of my hand like the most fragile and priceless treasure.

I can’t stop thinking of you, trembling and exposed under my gaze. I see you as you are meant to be: vulnerable, pliant, aching to please. Picture my hands gripping your hips, my nails trailing down your spine, leaving marks that are mine alone to see. Picture me pinning you down, your body so still, so obedient, waiting for my next command. You are stunning when you let go, when you surrender everything except your need to belong to me.

When I tell you to open yourself wider, I see the effort it takes, the way you push past the limits of your own hesitation to obey me. When I tell you to edge yourself, to stop when you’re so close to falling over the edge, the desperation in your voice as you beg for more ignites something primal in me. You are so greedy, so eager to hear me call you my good girl, to feel the weight of my approval. Do you know how much I adore that hunger in you? Watching the way your body betrays you, the way it pleads for me even before your words catch up?

Your submission is not just an action; it’s a symphony. Every movement is a note, every sound a melody that belongs to me alone. When you fall to your knees for me, the world tilts into place, and I feel whole. You are mine to mold, to shape, to break and rebuild in the ways I choose. Every time you obey, I see how beautifully I’ve ruined you for anyone else. You are so strong in the way you let me take you apart, and so achingly weak when you’re without my control. That paradox makes you irresistible, my sweetest possession.

I own you. Your pleasure, your pain, your very existence—they are mine to command. Every time you touch yourself, it is my name that floods your mind. Every time you come, it is because I have allowed it, because I have deemed you worthy of the release you crave. You belong to me in ways no one else could even dream of. Your surrender is not just something you offer; it is the foundation of who you are. You were made for this, made for me.

When I tell you, "You’re mine," it is not a fantasy or a game. It is truth. Absolute, unshakable truth. Every inch of your skin is mine to claim, to mark, to worship. I have memorized the way your body reacts—the arch of your hips, the hitch of your breath, the way your lips part when my voice dips low. You are written into me, as much as I am into you. I know you. I own you. And I know you would never want it any other way.

You are my treasure, my masterpiece, my prize. Every sigh, every moan, every desperate plea—they are mine to orchestrate. You belong to me, body and soul, and I will never share you with anyone. Your submission is not just something you give me—it is something you are. The core of you, the essence of everything I adore and everything I demand.

Now, open yourself to me. Here. Now. Let me remind you, as I always will, of who you are—of who you’ll always belong to.

I love you. You‘re my everything. My soulmate. The part of me that I adore the most.

[Copyright by me.]

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minkdelovely · 4 months ago

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kinktober — day XV

prompt: gender swap

revelations

“your hands were on my hips

your name is on my lips

over over again

like my only prayer”

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Alastor x Lucifer ; RadioApple ; MDNI 18+

tags/warnings: top!lucifer x bottom!alastor, alastor has a vagina, oral (alastor receiving), outercourse, no penetration orgasm 🦌✨

word count: 2.3k

summary: alastor and lucifer, back in their own bodies, have found some footing in their new routine. but there’s been something on alastor’s mind that he just can’t shake, which leads to surprising discoveries for the new lovers.

author’s note: can you believe we’re halfway through kinktober already?? this is a continuation of @macabr3-barbi3 body swap prompt <- please be sure to read this first to get the full experience ♥️ i was very excited to finally take a swing at this, and i hope you enjoy it! if there’s any takeaway, it’s that i will make alastor a cute little mess whenever i can 😈 quote is from burning desire by lana del rey.

coven: @fraugwinska @hazelfoureyes @macabr3-barbi3 @sugoi-writes @synamartia 🕯️♥️

the coven’s kinktober masterlist

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

“I’d like us to try something different this time...”

Lucifer hums in response, too lost in the stupor Alastor’s scent puts him in to form words. You’d think after a month of intimacy that he’d have grown a tolerance for it, but the angel feared he had actually gotten weaker now that he didn’t have to stave off his desires.

He felt that same wave of relief pour through him, remembering how he pleaded with Alastor’s voice: Please don’t regret this. Lucifer had spent many nights following this in gratitude, eagerly receiving and reciprocating Alastor’s passions. They had both made good on their proposition to attune each other to their tastes, and Lucifer was currently indulging in one of his. It wasn’t just Alastor’s scent that drove him crazy, but also the sounds he made under Lucifer’s touch. Eliciting a myriad of gasps and moans from the demon as he laid claim to the delicate, tantalizing flesh under his mouth.

Alastor’s neck was always hidden behind a high collar, making the skin there particularly sensitive. The evidence of Lucifer’s ardency was easily hidden, and the King found his eyes wandering to that collar often, as if seeing through the cloth to his markings underneath.

Mine.

Leave it to Alastor to give him a possessive streak.

“Lucifer, are you listening?” Alastor’s voice was breathy but the irritation it conveyed managed to cut through the fog in Lucifer’s mind.

The subtle bite of Alastor’s claws on his ribs was enough to finally draw him away from his lover’s delectable neck, readjusting himself in Alastor’s lap to look at him properly. Learning how to make Alastor cum wasn’t the only thing Lucifer had learned over these last few weeks. Pissing Alastor off was a sure fire way to end up falling asleep alone with his hand down his pants.

“You wanna try something different.”

Maybe he had said it too directly, or the eye contact was too much, but he didn’t expect to get the reaction he did out of the demon. Alastor’s face flushed pink, a gorgeous rosy shade that accentuated the handsomeness of his face. Fuck, he was so effortlessly endearing sometimes. Lucifer felt his cock twitch between his legs when Alastor broke eye contact. Bashfulness was a rarity on the Radio Demon, and it made Lucifer salivate. Something primal in him waking up that he didn’t know was there until recently.

“Hey, come on, you know you can tell me,” Lucifer said sweetly enough, caressing Alastor’s face. Though the glint in his eyes was anything but, exposing the hunger he was trying to keep at bay.

Rushing Alastor into things never ended well, while patience always paid off.

Alastor relaxed under Lucifer’s touch and turned back to him, but his crimson eyes remained apprehensive. “I’ve been thinking… about our first time.”

How could Lucifer forget? It was one of the best mornings in his long existence. But he stayed silent, waiting for Alastor to continue.

“And as much as I enjoy fucking you to oblivion,” Alastor emphasized this with a squeeze to Lucifer’s hips, some confidence returning to his face and static-laden timbre, “I’d like to… try that out again. In my own body this time.”

It took Lucifer a second to catch on, but the smile that spread on his face was eager when he realized what Alastor was suggesting.

Lucifer was also quite fond of the way Alastor took control in the bed. He had always been a bit spoiled this way, being claimed by his lovers and basking in their affection. It was nice to let someone else take the reins and turn his mind off while his body bloomed like an evening flower, so long as the florist knew what they were doing. And, boy, did Alastor know what he was doing.

But the opportunity to turn the tables was too enticing to pass up. How could he, really, when Alastor was being so charmingly coy about it? Their first time was never too far from Lucifer’s mind, and it filled him with more happiness than he expected that it was the same for Alastor — perhaps even more so, given this request. How long had he been holding this back?

Lucifer brought his other hand up to Alastor’s face and stood on his knees to kiss him. It seemed to be answer enough for the demon, his large hands fervently gripping Lucifer’s hips in response. They stayed this way until Alastor had to come up for air, hot puffs of breath permeating the space between their open mouths as Lucifer gently guided him to lay down. Alastor was still panting as Lucifer began to unbutton his shirt, planting kisses on each patch of exposed skin as he made his way down.

“You’ll feel a bit of a tingle, but I promise it won’t hurt,” Lucifer said into Alastor’s stomach, relishing the way the muscles twitched under the tickle of his breath.

A radiant, golden light enveloped them for a moment, followed by the promised tingle and then… nothing. Or, well… not nothing. Alastor’s pants felt looser in the groin but tighter on the hips, his budding erection all but gone as the ache of his arousal swelled. The heat he felt in his lower abdomen was familiar but his desire was now inside, a subconscious clench of his new sex alerting him to how empty he felt. It was a sensation he had only experienced the one time in a body that wasn’t his, and the thrill of discovery made him tremble; his mind gone cottony with this sudden onset of need and submission. Unable to form the words required to convey his want, a whine choked him. Amplified by an involuntary roll of his hips against Lucifer’s chest.

The air around them shifted, oppressive and electric; alerting the animal mind buried deep within man that something was coming.

It took all of Lucifer’s self control to stop him from tearing Alastor’s pants to shreds in his need to unveil what awaited him underneath. But he managed somehow, his kisses on Alastor’s belly gone feverish as he quickly unfastened the belt embellishing the demon’s slender waist. Lucifer gave it a harsh pull and flung it away as if it had bitten him, unconcerned with whatever patch of floor it decided to land on as he unbuttoned the offending pants. Only then did he manage to calm himself some, giving a final kiss to the supple flesh protecting Alastor’s newly formed womb before looking up at his disheveled lover.

“You don’t know how much it means, trusting me with this,” Lucifer said, his sincerity potent with reverence as he hooked his fingers under the waistband of the Overlord’s pants and underwear. “Thank you for letting me take care of you Alastor.”

He was rewarded with another bashful display, Alastor’s ears pressed tightly against his head as he swallowed thickly. Glazed eyes and the pink flush of his face and tufted chest diluting the insolence of his retort. “Quit fussing and get on with it already.”

There were a few canned responses that came to Lucifer’s mind: Patience is a virtue, be careful what you wish for. But as they say, actions speak louder than words.

With a snap of his fingers they were both divested of clothes, and Alastor gasped as the cool air collided with his molten core. He didn’t have the opportunity to complain about it before Lucifer knelt down, devoutly kissing the inside of Alastor’s left thigh as his hand kneaded the other. Alastor sighed but his stomach tensed, a small spurt of liquid trickling out of him as Lucifer’s mouth made its way closer to the spot he desired it most.

Lucifer paused to admire the sight before him, earning a frustrated mewl from the demon. Alastor was ethereal, purveying a softness Lucifer honestly never thought possible, even after all the new facets he’d uncovered over the last month. But as he set his gaze on Alastor’s gorgeous cunt — adorned with a soft down of red and black hair — the domineering urge which was so new to him writhed under his skin, begging to proclaim its territory.

Finally, he brought himself to Alastor’s center. Unable to resist the need to smell the demon’s intoxicating arousal before extending his tongue, lapping up the juices collected there as if in offering. Alastor jerked in reaction, keening with relief as Lucifer groaned, quickly settling himself between Alastor’s legs to start his ministrations in earnest. He hiked those gorgeous long legs over his shoulders, firm tongue swirling over Alastor’s clit with a measured pace that belied his eagerness. It wouldn’t do to overwhelm the poor thing.

Alastor seemed to be doing well, though. Cursing between soft moans while his hips rolled against the angel’s mouth. Lucifer sighed into that delicious heat as Alastor’s fingers found purchase in his blonde hair, a feeling of wholeness washing over him that he hadn’t felt in centuries.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” Lucifer lamented before his forked tongue dove back into its newfound Eden.

He felt like he was floating away from himself, lost in the saccharine taste and sounds of his lover. The demon’s scent now fully bloomed, perfuming the air with the verdant musk that had tortured Lucifer since their first meeting. How easily the angel was reduced to his baser natures, the need to revere and praise woven into his very being reminding him of his place. In this instance it didn’t matter — nor did he ever think it would when it came to how he felt about the sinner beneath him. Lucifer would weather whatever storms Alastor threw his way, so long as the days ended with them in the safe harbor of their bed.

Lucifer’s tongue had just pressed up to focus on the sensitive inner nerve when a low, drawn-out bleat from Alastor caught them both off-guard. Alastor’s hands quickly detangled themselves to clasp over his mouth with Lucifer’s head popping up to follow, his hair ruffled like unruly feathers. He took in the look on Alastor’s face, beet-red with embarrassment, and felt the expression on his own soften with an overwhelming affection. Nothing they had tried so far had managed to pull a sound like that from Alastor — but Lucifer wasn’t completely surprised. He wrote the book on cunnilingus, after all.

Despite the swell of pride, he managed to keep his wolfish grin to himself. If he wanted to keep this going, he’d have to save the gloating for later. Though his cock throbbed, leaking desperately from Alastor’s modesty as his brain finally registered his own painful arousal. Lucifer thought absently that it was a miracle he hadn’t already finished against the sheets.

“You okay, honey?”

Alastor nodded his head, squeezing his eyes shut to hide from Lucifer’s earnestness. Another wave of endearment poured through the angel, coating his veins like syrup as he journeyed up to gently remove the hands from Alastor’s mouth. It wasn’t without resistance though, Alastor stubborn as always to have his way. But Lucifer won in the end, bringing one hand to his mouth with an adoring kiss that made Alastor wriggle, feeling more exposed than ever despite his eyes still being closed. The soothing tone of Lucifer’s amused chuckle mingled in the air with frayed static as he leaned down to place a kiss to Alastor’s hot cheek.

“If you need to we can — ”

“Don’t…,” Alastor interjected, unsteady, “don’t say it. It’s too embarrassing. Just — ah!”

Lucifer provided an interruption of his own, taking advantage of Alastor’s closed eyes to rub his erection through warm slick. His wanton moan of alleviation quickly tarnishing any form of superiority he had managed to gain as Alastor whined below him, eyes flying open from shock. Lucifer rolled his hips again and they cried out in unison, the air between them humid with their desire. A hiss escaped through Lucifer’s teeth as Alastor moved his hips to meet him, and he was now genuinely concerned that he might not even get the chance to enter before the onset of his climax.

But his body had other concerns, overriding the alarm bells in his mind as he ground his cock against Alastor’s folds. Their combined fluids making it all too easy to stimulate their most sensitive parts. Lucifer was writhing, helpless against his instinct to follow through. The luscious heat from that swollen, wet cunt — he wanted to curse and worship himself for using such an effective spell.

He wasn’t the only one enjoying themselves more than expected. Each whine, squeal, and bleat from Alastor goaded Lucifer on. Reinforced by the steady rolling of his hips, craving the friction of Lucifer’s hard length against his sex and lower belly.

Alastor’s claws dug into the tender flesh of Lucifer’s ribs, mouth open as he panted between moans and sobs, his abdomen quivering from the building tension of pleasure. They were beginning to lose rhythm now, each of them chasing down the relief they needed so desperately.

“Lucifer, please — please, I…!”

“Mm-me too — hah… fuck!”

Lucifer cried out as he felt the first ropes of his release escape him, Alastor’s blissed out face seared into his mind before his vision went white. Somewhere in the fog he could hear Alastor calling his name through heaving breaths as their bodies rode out the high, clumsily rocking against each other until they were twitching from oversensitivity. Lucifer blinked back the haze until his lover came back into view, collapsing on top of him before he kissed every part of Alastor’s face his lips could touch.

It wasn’t until Alastor shuddered that Lucifer realized the salt on his tongue was from tears and not sweat. Lucifer shushed him, pressing a tender kiss to Alastor’s temple as he pet his hair to soothe him.

“If you mention this to anyone, I’ll tear your heart out and eat it in front of the entire city,” Alastor threatened, words muffled as he hid his face in the swoop of Lucifer’s neck; his usual venom reduced to petulance.

Lucifer laughed, the heart in question fluttering as he sank into Alastor’s embrace. “You know… we really need to work on your pillow talk. Lucky for you that I believe in second chances.”

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banner by @synamartia ❤️‍🔥

tag list: @fairyv-ice, @wat4r, @midorichoco, @raynerrold, @krak-jj, @tremendoushearttaco, @redfoxwritesstuff, @chibistar45, @kaylopolis, @cutiebimbo, @lousypotatoes, @rfox1998, @cosmiccandydreamer, @hyperfixations-keep-me-going, @cherry-cola-100, @wonderlandangelsposts, @catticora, @velvette3, @sailorsmouth, @reath-solia, @junieshohoho, @cxrsedwxrlds, @littlebluefishtail, @nxcxllxsevens, @swagkittybear

#radioapple #radioapple smut #radioapple fan fiction #alastor x lucifer #alastor x lucifer smut #alastor x lucifer fan fiction #hazbin hotel fan fiction #gender swap #kinktober #kinktober 2024 #kinktober prompts #coven works

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mint-yooxgi · 1 year ago

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Indulgence - Yandere!Fallen Angel!Hongjoong

Yandere AU & Fallen Angel AU - First Person POV

Genre: Mature, Smutty Themes, Internal Monologue

Pairing: Hongjoong X Implied Chubby!Fem!Reader

Words: 2,038

Warnings: Religious themes and imagery, the typical angel/demon bs, heavy sexual themes: masturbation, voyerism. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: Ngl, this was way darker in my head lmaooo. Anyways, Feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!~

The Twelfth of The Feral Drabbles

Really? Broad daylight? You certainly are a wild one, aren’t you? Maybe that’s why I love you so much.

You know, it hasn’t been easy since the fall, but you have truly made the pain I first experienced worthwhile. I’ll even let you in on a little secret…

I fell because of you.

You: you’re captivating, did you know that? I’m not easily impressed, but there’s just something about you that drew me in from the very first moment I laid my eyes upon you. One of His creations that puts even the most beautiful of us to shame. You should be protected, and kept away from those unworthy to gaze upon you.

After all, I’ve always been taught: nothing less for the best!

I will keep you safe. I will worship you like you clearly deserve. You need me, just as I need you. After all, I no longer have to worry about those stupid morals or duties down here. Only you.

From my experience, humans tend to… indulge in their more primal desires at night, but you? Anyone could look into your room right now and see what it is that you’re doing. Really, you’re lucky I’m here to make sure that that doesn’t happen. No one else can see the way your hands trace over such delicate curves. No one else deserves to watch as your chest stutters with every hitch in your breath.

I only wish it were me in that room making you breathless instead.

One of the various reasons I fell, My Beloved, was due to my desire for you. You make it increasingly hard to control myself around you, not that I’ve ever seemed to have any sense of control around you to begin with. I’ve long since ached to feel your touch on me, to know what those hands feel like tugging on my hair, cupping my face so tenderly, and maybe even squeezing my ass…

Well, you get the point.

I want you, and I will do everything in my power - or rather, with the power that still remains inside of me - to make you mine.

I’ve truly never given much thought to indulgences before- no, wait, that’s a lie. I promised myself I would stop lying to you. You deserve my truth, and only my truth. You’re the only one that does. Everyone else can go visit Uncle Luci downstairs for all I care. You are the only one who matters to me now.

Anyways, I digress… Indulgence. What a strange word. To even so much as imply that basic wants and necessities are something to indulge in is completely abhorrent. Every person’s needs - angels, demons, humans - are different, and to act like an indulgence for one is completely natural for another defeats the purpose.

My brothers down below revel in the more sinister indulgences, while those stupid, ‘holier-than-thou’ chickens I once belonged to would shun them, even though the majority of us would do the same damn things. Isn’t it interesting, Beloved, that one is revered while the other is feared? What makes demons worse than angels for doing the same, horrific things?

Ah, but enough about my family trauma… Let me now focus on you.

Oh, I suppose in my tangent, I zoned out for a little there. You’ve certainly been busy in that time, not that I’m complaining.

No. Never. I could never fault you for anything.

Unless you tried to run from me. Or you decided to fall in love with another. Or you wanted to leave me.

Okay, so just don’t do anything bad, and we’ll live- what do you humans like to call it again? Oh, ‘Happily Ever After.’

Really, I’m just lucky that you decided to move out to the countryside. You don’t have many neighbours, but really, Beloved, you never know what kind of monsters can be lurking in the shadows. Fear not, for I am here to watch over you. Always.

And gaze upon you, I do…

Such beauty…

Such marvellous wonder…

Look at how those beautiful thighs part, practically begging for me to be between them right this very moment. Look at the way your legs tremble, and you’ve still yet to touch that gorgeous cunt of yours.

It’s a shame really. I should be the one giving you such sweet release. You shouldn’t have to do this on your own.

No! Don’t cover your mouth with your hand! Let me hear you!

Oh my… That was close… I almost smashed my hand through your window, Beloved. Do you see what you do to me? I told you I can hardly control myself around you, but you can’t blame me. You just have such a strong affect on me…

Such a perfect scene spread out before me, and you want to taint it by muffling your sounds? What am I supposed to do with myself if I can’t hear what you sound like whimpering and whining for me? How is that fair?

I want to know everything about you. I want to consume you in the best of ways, just as you have enraptured me with your very soul. Let it shine beside my own, a brilliant white to contrast my now scorched wings. Wings that now brand me as a Fallen with their blackened feathers.

Black feathers are meant to be a sign of shame amongst my kind, but all I can feel is pride. You have given me hope for a new life, and I would fall all over again if it meant spending even one second with you.

I love you, My Beloved, and nothing will ever change that.

So, please, won’t you open up to me?

Yes… That’s it, Beautiful, just like that. Cup those gorgeous breasts for me. Imagine that those are my hands holding you so. Feel my fingers pinching your nipples, my tongue flicking against your skin.

How I long for the day where I can finally touch you. I want to be able to bring you to new heights, and show you pleasures that you’ve never even dreamed about. You should be taken care of with the utmost attention, and I promise you that that is what I’ll do. I’ll take my time worshipping every dip, every curve of that wondrous body of yours. I’ll make you sigh my name like a prayer, nothing but the most intricate of praises delegated unto you from my lips.

Fuck- spread those legs for me. Let me see all of you in your glory. Let me discover my own personal heaven on earth in you.

My Beloved… is this all for me? Is the way your essence drips out of you because you long for this, too? It must be. There’s no other that could make you this wet, no other that could have you trembling just from the mere thought of them and what they could do to you.

I’m glad to know I’m not the only one able to affect the other like this…

Oh, Beloved, you really are putting on a show just for me! It’s like you can read my mind!

Perhaps… No. I shouldn’t be so bold.

Then again, after everything that’s happened, why shouldn’t I be? I have long since submitted to the fact that I am yours, and you are mine. There’s no doubt about it, not when I feel this strongly for you.

I must get closer, this glass separating me from you is burdensome. I need to see you, unobstructed. I need to be able to hear your every sound, unfiltered.

I suppose I should be grateful for my wings now, the black blends right in to the shadows my brothers downstairs revel above all else. I’ll admit, I’m not quite used to hiding in corners. We angels typical love standing out, but for now, I’ll lie in wait. It’s much better for the both of us this way. Besides, you wouldn’t be able to see me even if you tried.

Oh, Beloved, look at you… How the mere sight of you, hand teasing at that gorgeous pussy, nearly brings me to my knees. The way your lips are parted as little breaths escape you while your eyes flutter shut and your nose scrunches is the most captivating sight I have ever had the pleasure to behold.

My only wish is that you could see the effect you have on me. Like you, my whole body is heating. My hands tremble, and my legs shake. Hell, even my wings cannot help but flutter in anticipation as I sneak my own hand down the front of my body. I’ll allow myself the pleasure of touching myself in time with you. I’ve only ever dreamed about it a countless amount of times before, anyways.

Dearly Beloved, won’t you give in to yourself? Give in to any and every desire you’re currently thinking about.

Touch yourself for me…

That’s it, Beloved, let me hear the wet drag of your fingers through that dripping cunt. I want to drown in your pleasure with you, don’t hold back.

Now I see why you covered your hand with your mouth…

It truly is hard to keep quiet when there’s such a temptation spread out before oneself. You are the greatest temptation I have ever known, and if I didn’t stifle my moan just now, you would have know that someone else is in the room with you. Well, we can’t have that, now, can we? You’d get scared and stop what you’re doing, and I wouldn’t be able to comfort you when you needed me most.

Fuck- there is no sound more holy than the breathless way you whine from such a simple touch.

Does that feel good, My Beloved? Are your fingers enough, circling over that delicate little clit of yours? Wouldn’t you rather feel mine? What about my tongue? You’d let me have a taste of that intoxicating nectar that flows from your pretty cunt, right? You’d let me get lost in you for however long I’d like? I’ll always give you everything you could ever want, My Beloved. My fingers, my tongue, my cock. Everything.

All that I am, is yours, Beloved. I hope when the time comes, you can say the same for me.

Oh, Beloved… do you know how fucking sexy you are when you moan like that? Do you know how it makes my heart stutter to hear you get lost to your own pleasure; how my cock aches for you? You must, otherwise you wouldn’t be tempting me like this.

I’m honestly embarrassed by how close I am already. I’ll have to work on that if we are to make love all night long when the time comes. And it will. I will make damn sure of it.

For now, why don’t you come for me? Rub that little clit, and come for me. Don’t hold back now, I want to see you. In all of your raw glory.

Yes, yes, yes, that’s it! Don’t stop now, Beloved. Let me hear you scream for me!

Fuck- I can practically taste you on my tongue already… look at that gorgeous pussy, just fucking fluttering in bliss.

So beautiful, and all mine.

Wait a second… I taste… blood.

Oh, I suppose I bit into my hand to keep myself quiet while I came with you. No worries, I’ll heal in the blink of an eye. Getting to see you come apart like that for me, though… priceless.

I wish I could stay, but I think one of my wings knocked into one of your picture frames on the wall, and I think you heard it despite the blissful haze that still clouds your mind. The last thing I want is to get caught like this. It’s not proper of me.

Really, what would you think?

I hope you didn’t catch that soft giggle of mine as I left your room, My Beloved, and I certainly hope you don’t discover any of my feathers I may or may not have left behind for you. If that’s that case, and you finally learn of my existence, my devotion to you… well, whatever on earth would I do?

#cultofdionysusnet #yandere hongjoong #yandere ateez #yandere kpop #hongjoong smut #hongjoong scenario #hongjoong imagine #ateez smut #ateez imagine #ateez scenario #kpop smut #kpop scenario #kpop imagine #kpop au #fallen angel au #chubby reader

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catpriciousmarjara · 1 year ago

Text

DP X DC

Ao3

The Job Offer

"And why not you?", said the man. "You're intelligent, skilled, and adaptable. Most importantly, you're entertaining. That last part becomes very important when dealing with my kind".

A ring glinted in the dim light as he gestured with his hands. "Plus, there wouldn't be any danger in the first place! Our lot tend to stick to the Rules, you see? And not harming the messenger is most certainly a Rule".

A sip of coffee. Eyes filling with mirth.

"In the off chance that someone did take offence, all you have to do is amuse them for a while, and as I said, you're very good at that. But don't worry, they won't take offence".

Dick Grayson, attention still half focused on the vicious black claws on the man's hand, had to ask, "And why won't they?"

The man's pleasant smile didn't falter. But it did slowly morph into a grin with way too many teeth to be normal. The young vigilante had to suppress a shudder.

When the man?it spoke, the voice resonated. "Because you'll be one of mine. And they won't dare touch what's mine".

The teeth gleamed.

And just as abruptly as it shifted, the air changed, the pressure lifted, and the man was smiling once more.

Dick was left off-footed and tightly clutching the arms of his chair, his breath fogging in the still frigid air. He hadn’t even noticed the temperature dropping.

He looked at the man nonchalantly sitting across from him as if he hadn't just taken years off of Dick's life. The vigilante was not one to scare easily. Yet, mere moments ago, Dick had felt a fear so primal that it was maddening. It was not the kind of fear a human being could evoke, no matter how frightening their actions may be. Dick had seen the worst of Gotham, and Gotham was a cesspit on a good day. But he hadn't ever felt like this before today. If there was ever a question about the humanity of his companion before...well it was answered now.

To be honest, he couldn't quite recall how he got here in the first place. Everything was a blur.

No...not quite. His memories were alright, it's just that his mind couldn’t grasp them.

And every second in this...space, had felt muted. As though he was lying beneath several layers of sheer fabric; he could somewhat feel things, see things, but his senses were muffled.

The spike of fear from before wasn't him breaking through as much as he was allowed to break through, and now he was safely back beneath the dampening cloud once more. It was almost comforting.

Dangerous.

Dick only remembered what had happened in bits and pieces. Being fired from Robin, the legacy he had forged for himself, named after his mother's love, and garbed in Grayson colours.

Being angry and distraught. Not knowing what to do.

It had taken him weeks to reorient himself. A month to gather his composure.

He vaguely recollected a cafe in Jump City. He had been sitting in a booth, contemplating his options...

Someone had sat right across from him, right?

He had looked up…

“Hello. May I sit here?”

“...Sure. Go ahead.”

“Daniel Nightingale.”

“...Richard Grayson.”

" I know. You shouldn’t give out your name so freely by the way. Also, could I have a bit of your time?"

"Um...yeah, sure?"

“Perfect!”

And the next thing he knew, he was Here.

Wherever here was.

(Why had he said yes then? He would never have done that normally.)

At first his mind had been adamant in believing that here was the very same cafe he had been sitting in. But Dick wasn't trained by the man known as the World's Greatest Detective for nothing. However, it had taken him an embarrassing few moments to start noticing the abnormalities.

For one thing, he had been sitting in a booth in a cafe, not at an ornate wooden table, much like the one in Bruce's home office. The only thing the cafe table and this one had in common was that they were both rectangular.

Secondly, their table was covered by a veil. A huge gauzy one hanging from above. But try as he might he couldn't see where it was hanging from, just a yawning darkness.

Finally, he could see shadows moving beyond the veil, and the more he looked, the more bizarre they became. And at one point, the shadows lost all pretence of humanity. They weren't even humanoid, let alone human.

He definitely wasn't in Jump City anymore.

It had taken him even longer to notice the man sitting across him. That he hadn’t left this Daniel Nightingale behind.

Wispy white hair.

"Ah! You noticed so quickly. You really are the perfect fit for the job!"

Green. green eyes.

"Apologies for the veiling. It's necessary however.., some things are not just meant for mortal eyes, you see. Without it, you might just go insane! We wouldn't want that now would we?"

Unnaturally pale skin.

"Enough dillydallying! But first, introductions. You may call me either Daniel or Nightingale. By what name would you prefer to be called?”

Something about that question made the ex-Robin’s hindbrain pay attention. The wording of it, the tone…

You shouldn’t give out your name so freely by the way.

Could I have a bit of your time?

Something had felt incredibly off, so he had gone ahead and given one of the alternate names he had been thinking of taking up now that Robin was over.

“You may call me Nightjar.”

Nightingale had looked incredibly pleased then. And a bit smug too.

“Let me cut to the chase then Nightjar. I’m here to offer you a job. You’re a perfect fit for the role. We offer excellent compensation, and flexible work hours. Considering you’re out of work now that you’ve been fired from Robin, I believe my offer would be interesting for you.”

For some reason, perhaps because of all the strange things that happened, the fact that Nightingale seemed to know his alter ego hadn’t surprised Dick. Instead of asking how he came to know about this particular information, including the fact that he got fired, he decided to keep the conversation rolling on this supposed job offer. He had an inkling that he won’t get anywhere even if he asked, so might as well mine some information by making the other man talk.

“What kind of job is it? And what exactly would be included in the compensation?”

In response the man had snapped his fingers, and produced a file out of nowhere. He opened it, turned it around and slid it across the table. Dick started. Nightingale made a go ahead gesture, a smile on his lips once more. Dick gingerly dragged it a bit closer, and took a look.

“As you can see Nightjar, the position being offered is that of a courier. Due to many reasons, delivery across the realms is a cumbersome affair, not the least due to political complications. The best system to lay down in this situation was to have an impartial party be in charge of the work. You can say that I am a representative of the aforementioned impartial party that took over the role. If you would turn a page over-

Dick had dutifully turned the page.

-you’d see that we offer great compensation. In addition to your salary, you’ll receive health insurance, life insurance, death insurance, medical insurance, dental, vision care insurance, paid vacation time, overtime pay, paid time-off, flexible time-off, paid medical leave, free medical care, maternity leave, paternity leave, all other forms of parental leave, a good retirement package, loan assistance, wellness programmes, child care assistance, regular bonuses, promotions, raises, accommodation, a provident fund, and a whole host of other benefits that are clearly listed on the page. And of course at the end right there is our offered starting salary, which is highly negotiable up to the amount listed right below it. Please take as much time as you need to read through them.”

To say Dick had been overwhelmed was an understatement. He hadn’t thought that this was going to be an actual, honest to God job offer. If anything he just thought the entire job thing was an excuse or prelude to something much worse. But as he parsed through the file, getting increasingly bewildered as the man rattled on, he had to admit that this really looked like a weird recruitment effort. And then his eyes had fallen on the salary figure, and the amount to which it could be negotiated upwards, and he froze. Because even for the ex-ward of a billionaire, it was a ludicrous number. He couldn’t even accurately count the zeros on the thing. Even Wayne Enterprises wouldn't be able to match a deal like this.

At that thought Dick had felt a pang of pain as he remembered Bruce still hadn’t called him, or even made an attempt at apologising. There were no texts, no missives. Just radio silence. The pain in his chest increased and Dick had felt the ever returning feeling of being unmoored. He pushed those feelings to the furthest corners of his mind. He had to focus now.

Feeling marginally calmer, he had taken a deep breath and closed the file. He looked up at Nightingale who had been watching him avidly over the rim of a coffee cup which definitely wasn’t there before, and asked the most pertinent question.

“Why me?”

And now they are here.

Dick scoffed at the white haired being’s answer. Oh he didn’t doubt that it was the truth. By now he had somehow come to an understanding of how this worked. It was fae rules. Meaning he had to watch his mouth. Similarly Nightingale won’t lie, but he can certainly obfuscate.After all withholding information wasn’t technically a lie, especially if it was masked with a half-truth. In other words, Nightingale hadn’t lied, but that wasn’t all there is to it. And Dick wasn’t going to let it slide.

“How am I supposed to believe you to be a good employer if you’re already lying?”, he asked outright. You know, like a reckless fool.

Nightingale’s pleasant smile instantly froze, and then it gained an edge. A sharp, lethal edge.

“I don’t lie”, the man said, a cold cadence to his voice.

Dick could feel the figurative whetted blade on his throat, but he pressed forward. This was the first time he had taken blood in this fiasco and he wasn’t going to concede just like that.

“Lying by omission, is still lying.”

Nightingale’s entire mien darkened, and frost spread across the table. Dick didn’t back off.

There was silence. Suffocating silence. And then the vergals receded and Nightingale sat back with a satisfied air. Dick blinked in surprise.

“Good. You didn’t cower.”

Dick sat back on his own chair, his breath fogging in the still cold air. “Was that a test?”

Nightingale took another sip of his coffee. Was it even coffee? It looked like coffee, but who knows what anything is in this bizarre space. Certainly not Dick.

“It was a test. The position of a courier in this part of existence requires mettle, and a strong mind. You would be dealing with beings ranging from the divine to the demonic. I’m sure you know they are a stubborn lot. You’ll have to stand up to them often. Plus you would be representing Us. We can’t have an unprincipled, craven fool take the job can we now? So I had to test you. Congratulations! You passed with flying colours.”

Dick glared at the man. “I still haven’t agreed to anything. And you still haven’t told me why I was chosen.”

Nightingale chuckled. It was an unnatural, but pleasant sound. “Aah you caught that. Very well then.”

He clasped his hands together and put them on the table, bringing Dick’s attention to the black, razor sharp claws once again, as well as to the extremely ominous ring he wore on his left hand’s little finger.

“You were chosen because you are a multiversal constant. This job requires much interdimensional, interuniversal travel, and a multiversal constant is ideal for the role. And before you ask, a multiversal constant is essentially someone whose soul acts as a consistent axis across worlds through indelible aspects of their existence. They are rare, and their axial quality makes multiversal travel easy for them.”

The white haired entity’s eyes shone in the dim light. “You are a multiversal constant Nightjar. Centred around your potential, And also, I know you will agree to do the job. So I’m not worried.”

Even as he struggled to process what was just revealed, Dick found the energy to scowl at the impishly grinning man. “And how would you know? What’s in it for me? All I’m seeing is a job, the benefits of which, doesn’t make up for how dangerous it is.”

“But you will accept it nonetheless”, replied Nightingale with an amused air. “Think about it. You’ve been fired from Robin but still intend to continue being a vigilante, and vigilantism is expensive work. Now that you don’t have the Wayne coffers to pull from, you would have to find alternate means to acquire resources. You’re brilliant and I have no doubt you will find those resources and do spectacularly under your new mantle. But that would take time. And calling in favours that could either be used somewhere else, or make you indebted to someone. The salary this job provides you will allow you to finance your quest for justice, and still have plenty leftover. Not to mention the other benefits, such as the free medical care provided by Us, people who will never question your injuries the way a normal hospital might, or put your civilian identity at risk like a back alley doctor.”

Nightingale’s verdant eyes stared a hole through Dick as he spoke. “You wanted to get out of Batman’s shadow. This is your chance, Nightjar.”

The young vigilante had to give it to Nightingale. The man sure knew how to pitch an offer. He found himself agreeing to most of what Nightingale said, especially the finances part but he still wasn’t going to agree to a job that would put him in the crosshairs of gods and demons. That was just monumentally stupid.

“You make good points”, Dick said as he slid the file sitting idle on his side to Nightingale. “But I’m still not gonna agree.”

Nightingale slid the file back over to him without missing a bit.

“If I thought you were the type to easily capitulate I wouldn’t have approached you in the first place,” the man said, not a single sign of ire at Dick’s repeated refusal in his voice. In fact he seemed rather glad Dick was being difficult.

“You want to know more about being a multiversal constant correct? That is not the kind of information you’ll find lying around on earth.”

A pitch black claw scraped across the table, but there was no noise, and the deep scratch left behind instantly stitched itself back together, the tabletop pristine once more.

“By now you must have a rudimentary idea of the world you are being invited into. You would not have called yourself Nightjar otherwise. You also know that this is not a world Batman has access to.”

The man pointed opened his right palm, still resting on the table, and brilliant emerald fire blazed to life on it. Something in Dick’s lizard brain told him this fire ran cold rather than hot.

“Magic and everything associated with it is not something the Dark Knight can handle by his usual methods. And magic is just one of the aspects of our Realm. An infinite more mysteries keep it company. This world is yours for the taking. No mortal would be able to access what you can and you would be able to help so many people.”

Blue eyes met green.

“This will set you apart from Batman once and for all. An identity that no one can take away from you at their whim. Just think of this as your day job, as being a CEO is for Bruce Wayne.”

Nightingale clasped one of Dick’s hands resting on the table and transferred the fire over to it. Dick stared as the flame danced merrily in his palm. It really was cold. By the time he had his wits about him, the fire had vanished. Nightingale had seemingly finished his coffee, as the cup was nowhere to be seen.

Dick glanced at the white haired man who watched him calmly. Then he took the file and started reading through it. If he was going to take this job, he was going to make sure to read the fine print. Out of the corner of his eye, he could spy Nightingale’s gleaming, triumphant smile. Dick couldn’t help but feel annoyed.

He didn’t know how much time it took for him to read the file completely. Time ran strangely in this space. What he did know was there was an ornate, silver pen right next to him, which definitely wasn’t there before. He had to roll his eyes at Nightingale's antics.

Nonetheless he uncapped it, admiring the craftsmanship for a moment, and signed on the dotted line in his Alfred approved best cursive, bells, whistles, hoops and all.

Nothing happened. Dick felt kinda disappointed. He had thought signing a magical contract with a possible fae creature would be a little less anti-climactic. Across from him, Nightingale chuckled as if he could read his mind. Could he?

He slid the file over once more, this time for last. Nightintingale just skimmed through before sliding over an envelope.

“Your appointment letter”.

“You had that ready?”

“Of course.”

Dick snorted inelegantly at that. Obviously the man had foreseen how this would go. That should make him more wary than what he was feeling, but just as he had known the fire was cold before, he knew Nightingale wouldn’t harm him. Bruce would call him an idiot for this kind of illogical thinking, but Bruce wasn’t here now was he?

He was about to shove another medley of complicated emotions down, when Nightingale reached over and viciously ran a claw down his right arm. Blood spurted in a gruesome display and Dick scrambled back, chair falling down, and his body hitting the surprisingly sturdy veil.

“What was that about?”, he shouted as he clutched his bleeding arm to his chest. Just when he had thought the man didn’t mean him any harm…

Nightingale had the audacity to look nonplussed. He simply brought his palms up as if to show he meant no harm, but it was a moot point when one of his claws was dripping with Dick’s blood.

“Just testing something”, the man said calmly.

“Testing what?’, Dick asked angry and confused.

In response, Nightingale simply pointed to his arm.

“What? Testing whether your claws could tear me apar-”

He stopped short. There, before his eyes, the flesh of his arm was knitting itself together. In mere moments, the wound was gone, not even a scar where it should be. Dick was reminded of the table from before. What just happened?

“What did you do to me?”, he asked, voice soft, and emotionless.

“Don’t worry. It's your compensation. Part of your medical aid.”

He waved his hand, and the blood vanished. “Do sit down, Nightjar. Lets order something to eat.”

Robotically Dick walked to the table once more. The upturned chair was somehow rightened, already pulled out as if waiting for him.

“That was a healing factor”, he said rather than asked.

Nightingale nodded unbothered. “Yes, you’ll be needing that in your line of work.”

The veil opened and admitted a two-headed woman in, carrying trays of food in her four arms.

When she left, Nightingale eagerly took up his cutlery, looking excitedly at what looked like a luminescent crepe. He glanced at a shell-shocked Dick and frowned.

“Please eat. It's safe to consume, now that you’re one of us. If you’re worrying about your job, don’t. You have been assigned an excellent mentor in Harker. The White Grim will train you well.”

With that, he dug in, clearly enjoying his glowing crepe.

Dick just stared at the man, at his no longer injured arm, and sighed. Might as well eat. He hadn’t gotten to eat anything at the cafe and was beginning to feel hungry.

He scooped a spoonful from what seemed like an overly fancy bowl of cereal.

One of them huh?

He took a bite.

#dp x dc #My contribution to the agenda of more Dick Grayson in dp x dc #Ghost King Danny kinda forgot to human #In professional settings he emulates Clockwork #He doesn't know that because of how he looks he seems more mischievous but dangerous Fae King than Ghost King #Nobody tell him #He just doesn't have Clockwork's ancient and wise vibe #The infinite Realms offer the best employee benefits in the Omniverse #Shout out to the real ones that saw my boy Jonathan Harker #our very good friend #thanking @see-arcane for the inspiration for the White Grim title #much obliged #Courier AU

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letmetakecare · 18 days ago

Text

The night air is crisp against your skin, but you barely feel it. You kneel before her, your breath shallow, your heart pounding in your chest like a war drum. The world around you fades into insignificance, only she matters now. Only she exists.

She looms above you, her presence an intoxicating mixture of dominance and allure. Moonlight caresses the sleek curves of her black gown, the fabric clinging to her like a second skin. Her long, dark hair cascades over her shoulders, framing a face too perfect, too otherworldly to belong to anything human. And her eyes... gods, her eyes. Twin pools of glowing crimson, swirling with power, with intent. They hold you captive, trapping you in a gaze that is both merciless and unbearably seductive.

"Look at you," she murmurs, voice a velvet caress that slips through your mind like silk. "On your knees. Right where you belong."

A shudder runs through you at the sound of her voice. It is not fear that grips you, it is something deeper, something primal. Your body responds before your mind does, a warmth blooming in your core, spreading outward, melting you.

"You feel it, don't you?" she continues, stepping closer, her presence overwhelming. "The pull. The need to yield."

You do. It’s undeniable, irresistible. The way her voice coils around your thoughts, the way her eyes seem to pulse with a rhythm that matches your own heartbeat, it is all-consuming. Your lips part, but no words come. You are drowning in her, sinking deeper with every moment.

She reaches out, a single gloved finger trailing under your chin, tilting your gaze up to hers. The simple touch sends a shockwave of sensation through you, a pleasure so sharp it borders on pain. A helpless whimper escapes your lips, your need to serve overwhelming all reason.

"Good girl," she breathes, and your entire body thrums with warmth, a rush of dizzying bliss surging through you.

Your mind reels, but there is no escape. She is inside you now, her power slithering into the deepest recesses of your thoughts, wrapping around your will like a snake coiling around its prey. The more you submit, the more pleasure blooms within you. The last vestiges of resistance crumble like dry leaves in the wind.

Her fangs glint as she smiles, watching your surrender with something between amusement and hunger. She steps forward, pressing her boot lightly against your shoulder, just enough to remind you of your place beneath her.

"There is no need to think," she purrs, her voice a lullaby of control. "No need to fight. Just let go. Let me in."

Your head lolls slightly, eyes heavy-lidded, body slack with submission. Her will is your will. Her voice is the only truth. You can feel her inside your thoughts, twining through your very essence like dark roots sinking into fertile soil. The pleasure intensifies, wracking through you like waves crashing against the shore. You whimper again, helpless, needy, desperate for her command.

"That’s it," she praises, and the sound alone sends another rush of warmth spiraling through you. "You are mine now. Completely. Irrevocably. And it feels so good, doesn’t it?"

You whimper once more, nodding without hesitation, utterly lost in the ecstasy of obedience. Your mind is empty of everything but her. Nothing exists beyond her will, beyond the boundless need to serve.

Her smirk widens, triumphant, powerful, devastatingly beautiful.

"You belong to me."

The words echo inside your skull, a branding iron searing into the fabric of your soul. You shudder, your entire body trembling from the sheer, overwhelming sensation of her claim. And gods, you love it.

She chuckles, pleased, victorious. One final step brings her so close that you can feel the coolness of her breath against your skin. She leans in, her lips ghosting over your ear.

"Now, my sweet thrall," she whispers, voice thick with promise, "let us begin."

Her fingers trail along your jaw before grasping your chin, turning your head to the side with effortless control. The anticipation coils tightly in your stomach as you feel her lips brush against the delicate skin of your throat. A slow exhale, a teasing moment of stillness and then, sharp fangs pierce your flesh. A gasp catches in your throat, a perfect blend of pain and pleasure flooding your senses as she drinks deeply, claiming you in the most primal way. Another helpless whimper escapes you, your body trembling in submission as the world fades into bliss. You know, without a doubt, that you are hers forever.

#corruption kink #mind corruption #hypnosis #brain drain #mind conditioning #bd/sm corruption #hypnosub #bd/sm kink #vampire

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middleearthsdreams · 1 year ago

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New World

Chapter 1

Author's notes: Hii, this is my first time posting something of mine here, I hope you'll enjoy. I usually write these for myself so I'm sorry if there are any mistakes - english isn't my first language. I didn't proof read, I thought of just posting it and see how it goes.

(The reader has a little of self-insert, so she's going to be italian, nothing too evident)

Warnings: so far none.

Enjoy xoxo

chapter 2 / chapter 3

The last thing you remember, was the feeling of sinking. Like when you’re falling in a dream. Then nothing at all.

You gasp for air, hoisting yourself up with your arms. Your vision is blurred, the shapes around you look nothing like your room. The only thing you can hear is the fast beating of your heart. Your hands feel wet and cold, like you’ve been laying in the morning grass for a while. Now that you place your thoughts together, it’s not just your hands that feel cold, but your whole body is shivering from the cold. You start to panic. You can barely feel the sheer fabric of your shirt and sweats, as you move around looking for your glasses. You take a hold on them and wear them.

Yes, something is definitely wrong. You have just the feeling that you’re still dreaming. You focus on the tall trees surrounding you, and the dirt you’re touching with your hands. Your eyes can’t lie to you, you’re surely dreaming. Your comfy bed is gone, as is your warm room. You stand up bare feet. Wiggling your toes to warm them up and to feel the damp forest floor, you look around. The lucid dream you’re in is set in a cold forest, apparently. The reason? Whatever it is your consciousness wants to tell you is very subtle, maybe it is to take a walk? Breathe clear air? You clean your hands form the dirt on your sides. Your grey shorts taking a brownish shade.

You start to wander the path, there’s marks on the ground, like a carriage has just passed by. You feel like on a cloud, still not knowing what is happening around you. But yet, you’re dreaming. It must be a pretty normal feeling. You’re surprised by your rational thoughts. You wonder why this forest feels familiar. But again, you dream familiar things all the time.

You whistle a melody while walking, looking around in search of odd things to encounter. Something must happen, for crying out loud. You’re constantly waiting for something to barge or stumble on your presence, but it doesn’t happen. As the minutes pass by you’re overcome by boredom, and immediately after that by fear. It’s irrational, pure and primal fear of the unknown. The trees look all the same and the Sun begins to shine brightly, letting you know that hours have passed by, and not just minutes. You run, pinch your arm, count your fingers. Nothing. You can feel the ache of your lungs from running, the pain in your arm as you pinch it, and again you counted 10 fingers. You huff and puff, leaning on your knees to steady your irregular breathing. Your back stiffens, a loud ‘crack’ coming from somewhere around you. You freeze and stop breathing for a second, counting to ten before sprinting in a frantic run. You leap on logs and wet leaves, never stopping. You jump, looking behind for just a second. You heard something very close. You have just the time to look back ahead and discover where the noise actually came from. You bump, very harshly, on a strong person. Not just strong but also firm and hard, since it doesn’t even bulge. You fall – again. This time you know why, at least. And you now know more than before: you’re not dreaming. Your head feels heavy, your limbs ache incredibly bad. A loud bark comes from the person you just run over.

“Seven Hells, watch out!”

It screams at you, adjusting its armoured shoulders. Your ears perk up, he sounds familiar. You can tell it’s a he, and he is also very tall. That half-burnt face, you could recognize it everywhere. You squint your eyes, hoping you are wrong. Despite your glasses, and your eyes being the useless muscles they were, you focus enough to trace the coarse face of the man standing in front of you. He looks you down, an angry expression buried in a frown. He’s like this all the time. But you discovered the true and most emotional parts of this giant man. During the show. Because that’s what it was, a show. The Game of Thrones was just a show, and the Hound isn’t standing in front of you. You feel yourself floating, out of this world. Your soul – figuratively – leaving your body. But what was this world if not dreams? It couldn’t be real.

You gasp for air, trying to feel the touch of your numb hands on the ground, but you couldn’t. Your breathing becomes frantic, you’re sure to be having a panic attack. You don’t look up anymore, trying not to focus on the man’s face. It couldn’t be more real. A real panic attack. You feel every little detail and at the same time you don’t. You can’t feel your body from the outside but only form the inside.

The tall man – the Hound – keeps looking at you from above, not really caring what is going on. “Yea, feel bad about it, I ain’t gonna apologize” he says, taking his gloves out. His voice is what makes you feel everything suddenly, all at once. He grounds you back to the moment. Your feet on the ground, hands gripping the dirt: you breathe again.

His eyes wander to your sitting form, wondering if you’re a threat or just some lost girl. While you start to wonder if you’re just batshit crazy. Holding your thoughts back, you stumble up on your feet. You eye the Hound carefully, making sure he’s really there. And if he’s there, you make sure he doesn’t make anything dangerous towards you. Now that you find yourself in front of him, you can see why people were so scared of him. It’s just his whole presence, that makes you shiver – and not in a good way. You carry yourself near him, not too close as not to worry him of harm. Not that you could harm him, in any way. Stranger is right beside him, loaded with weapons and some of his own stuff.

“I apologize Ser” You speak for the first time, not really sure if to bow or how to bow. You decide not to. Now that he’s assured you’re not mute, he looks away from you and grunts. He really just grunts. His horse could have given you a much better answer, you think. “Not a Ser” He just shrugs. You don’t know how to respond to that, so you decide to stay silent. You look around again, since you don’t really know what to do. The forest is quiet except for the birds and unknown sounds. You wonder if you find yourself in the north, but quickly discard the idea. It would have been way colder if it was. You can stand on your bare feet and not freeze your toes off, so it’s definitely not it. You kick the ground lightly, wondering if you’re gonna be walking into the woods for much longer. You don’t have much knowledge about scouting and hunting, maybe finding a tavern would be the best choice. Of course, it would be, if you knew where to go.

“What were ye doing out in the forest?” His sudden question clears your thoughts, having grown accustomed of the quiet chatting inside your head. You turn your head to him, a question mark written across your face. You have no fucking clue, but here you are. Chatting with the Hound. From the Game Of Thrones. He steadies a bag on the horse, maybe done camping for a night. You wonder what season you found yourself into.

You answer, lying: “I was being chased by a boar”. That would explain your helpless running, obviously. However, since you couldn’t tell him the truth, you start to ponder which lies would have sounded more reasonable. Trying to test the waters, a joke escapes you: “didn’t want to end like King Robert, you know”. You giggle lightly, trying to break the ice. He just huffs but answers your silent question: “aye”. So, it’s past first season, good to know.

“Can I ask you a question?” You try but he stops you “You just did”. You roll your eyes at him, glad he doesn’t notice. “I heard about Stannis Baratheon marching upon Kingslanding, is it true?” You know you’re burning your cards but you don’t know how better to put it. His movements stop for a second, he looks ahead, but he wakes and close up the straps holding the bag quickly. He grunts again, so it’s a yes. ‘Oh’, you smile. He’s on the run, then.

You try to make it sound casual “I just heard about it, it’s crazy what the Imp has done with the wildfire”. He replies with a growl then walks with his steed alongside him, away from you. The ground opens up beneath your feet: what would you do if you were alone? You couldn’t be left alone: you would not survive one day. As you glare at his broad shoulders walking away, the lamp inside your head turns on.

You struggle to walk to him, what long strides he takes. “Wait!” You exclaim, almost running. He doesn’t turn around. He keeps walking. “Don’t leave me alone” You tell him, trying to make him feel something. You know how cautious he is, he is a loner and he has just escaped a city that wants his head on a pike. Despite all of this, he is one of the strongest men in all Westeros, he could keep you safe like no one else could. Whatever that escaping bullshit was, it had to wait. “I don’t know where I am and I don’t know how to live in a forest, I would die by tomorrow or worse” You complain. He just shrugs his shoulders and says “None of my business”. You should have figured he would be like this. But one tiny, little part of you wants to make him feel sorry for you. You’re the damsel in distress.

“At least can you give me a ride? You see, I ran so fast I lost my shoes” you say looking at your feet on the verge of bleeding. He stops himself – and the horse – to turn around and look you down. He bends, looking at your feet with disgust. His hard shell cracks the tiniest bit, because he sighs. “Whatever, where are ye off to?” He offers a hand to make you sit on the horse, but changes his mind: you are far too short. He opens his arms, holding your hips to help you up. His two hands almost engulf your whole waist, his touch making you blush. Here come the nice shivers. “For now, the next tavern, then I’m heading North”. You don’t know why, but you want to separate yourself from Kingslanding as quickly as possible. That damn city. You love the sea and all, but you would prefer to visit the western zones. The North would seem like a good option for now. You lighten up, your eyes glistening. You could try to save Robb, Cathleen and then try to meet all of your favourites. Maybe you could travel north and save Ed and Pip and – your heart races – Ingrid. You could still have time to help Tyrion with the whole trial, and meet Prince Oberyn, save him from the Mountain. There’s still time. You know all of it, the timing is perfect.

Your racing thoughts are pulled away by Sandor’s hand coming close to your leg, to take the reins. Eyes scan your body, you feel embarrassed by your sleeping attire, not very fitting for the season. You try to cover your exposed thighs and belly. You went to sleep with some shorts and a small top, since it was summer. Now, you surely hadn’t planned to travel in a fantasy series, otherwise you would have worn much different clothing. Maybe a cute little outfit, you had just the perfect dress for the occasion which you bought for LARP. Sandor – what a sweet name to pronounce – clears his throat and points out “You’re going to freeze your ass off if you’re going North”. You shrug “I’m just going to buy new clothes along the way-” you slap yourself and think ‘yeah, with what money?’. You decide it’s a problem for future you, now you just want to enjoy your first horse ride and to chat a little bit more. Well, not that Sandor’s a chatty man, but you can talk and he can just listen. “Whatever” He just shrugs. You focus on him now, his unbruised half face directed towards you. Then it hits you. You feel like crying, chin trembling. You always forget he dies too, in the end. And you think it’s just unfair: for all the character development he will be going through, it’s just cruel how his story ends. He knows you’re looking at him, but he’s used to be stared at. He thinks it’s his scar that scares people away, that makes him ugly. But he doesn’t know that, in reality, you have a determined face right now. You’re not looking at him because he’s weird – he’s way too handsome in real life. You will save him, no matter the cost. You make it your mission: you will save Sandor Clegane.

“I haven’t properly introduced myself, I’m y/n” You offer him your hand, not receiving any response from him. He just keeps looking ahead, unbothered. You don’t give yourself up: “And you are…?”. You try to not show your real emotions, you’re not the best liar. He scoffs, glancing your way briefly “You know damn well who I am”. You insist “I may know your name, but not the man behind it”. He barks a real and sarcastic laugh – making you jump a little – eyes thin and wrinkled by the grimace “Good luck with that”. Being optimistic, you just nod and say “Challenge accepted”. The shadow of a smile still lingers on his lips, humoured by your attitude. You point your nose up, the rocking of the horse and the thumps of his feet the only sounds remaining.

“Yer not from around here” After some minutes he interrupts the silence, surprising you. You look at him questioning and he clears himself “Ye said your name but didn’t tell me where you come from, lassie”. You open your mouth promptly, but close it again. You surely can’t tell him where you come from, but can’t force yourself to lie enormously. You come up with the most accepting half truth you can muster: “You wouldn’t know, it’s an unknown land from the West”. He doesn’t seem too convinced by your lie, but says nothing. You let out a sigh of relief, then of pensiveness. You don’t mean to brag but you really miss your world: the comforts, the food, your family. You have no clue what is going on the other side. Maybe you’ll wake up in your bed once you’ll fall asleep tonight, maybe not. Does your family know you’re missing?

“But you know, sometimes I miss it, my small town. My mother makes the best pizza of all town, and I’m not saying this because she’s my mom; she taught me how to make it, maybe I can cook it for you one day. I’m gonna need…” You talk and talk, about anything that comes to your mind. You haven’t spoken to someone the whole day: he has the burden to bear with you for quite a while. He sighs, letting you talk.

Your continuous bragging about nothing and everything surely makes Sandor regret his decision. But he’s grown accustomed to boring conversations, so he dissociates from your nonsense. The only thing that intrigued him were the sudden unknown words you spoke – maybe another language. But after some time, he grew tired and began thinking to his own stuff. You know he’s not listening, so you pretend to talk to Stranger. He’s character too, you know. You caress the horse, receiving small sounds of appreciation form him. You tell Stranger all your favourite dishes and hobbies, letting the hours go by.

When the sky starts to turn pink and purple you have shut up for good, hours before. You find the quiet company of the Hound amusing, it’s kind of relaxing. Surely, you want to know many more things than you already know from the tv series. But you tell yourself ‘one thing at a time’.

You rub your cold thighs, shivering from the cold evening air. You haven’t encountered a tavern so far, nor a person passing by. It surely isn’t the King’s Road, otherwise it would be more ‘crowded’. You glance tiredly at the man at your right, his astonishing strength still making him walk. You look at him incredulous: “How are you not tired of walking?” you question him. He just shrugs “I’m used to it”. Your expression drops. You feel terrible for stealing his seat on Stranger, but you don’t know how long you would have gone without shoes. You miss the sensation of warmth that clothes provide, your limbs numb from the riding and cold.

“Can I walk again? I’m hurting my bum up here” You try, his head turning your way, glancing ever so slightly down where said butt sat. He shakes his head “We’re almost arrived”. You sigh, rocking your hips up, trying to relieve the ache between your legs. You’re not used to sit for so many hours. Least to ride a horse. But you’re glad, you thank him silently. You’re overcome by excitement once you hear the indistinct sounds of people talking and drinking, from afar. Finally, people!

Once you – three – arrive at the tavern, you realize you can’t just walk in, this bare you are. Sandor offers to walk inside first, trying to retrieve a dress or something. You thank him, he glances down at you and grunts “Stay hidden, these are not place for ladies to wonder alone naked” and with that he’s jogging inside. You shiver, unmounting Stranger to hide behind his giant form. Your legs wobble and tingle, you let out a moan of relief. You shake and jump on them, warming them up. Your feet are hopelessly cold, you can do nothing about them. You bend to massage your legs, leaning on Stranger to crack your back. The horse looks you weird, like you’ve grown two heads. As you are cracking on the left of your back you feel a presence behind you, its big shadow enveloping you. You’re scared for the first two seconds but take a relieving breath when you hear Sandor’s voice: “What are ye doing?”

“Why are you always bewildered when I do or say something?” You answer, turning back to face him. He’s so tall, you have to tilt your head back to look at him. You take a quick look at his black eyes, unreadable as a stone. He smirks and hands you some pieces of clothing “Cause you’re a funny woman”. His answer leaves you shocked – and amused. Then he turns around and commands: “Put them on”. It takes you some time to distinguish what clothes they are, but manage to put them on. It turns out it’s a long skirt and a bodice, of poor material. You accept kindly, finally covering your legs and arms. Lovely warmth! As you struggle to tie the top piece, you ask “Where did you find these?” referring to the clothes. You hear his shrug thanks to the armour he’s wearing. You decide not to inquire. You sigh loudly, hands behind your back trying to tie the laces but failing miserably. You cross your arms on your breasts and ask quietly “Can you help me?”. You blush, feeling like a child who cannot tie its shoelaces. You still have your back to him. You don’t see him but you can hear him turning towards you, the clanking of metal indicating he’s getting close. Gentle fingers caress your back to find the laces, then a firm pull brings you back. You yelp a little and plant your feet to the ground. He tightens the bodice and knots it. Your blush grows; you’re glad it’s dark so he can’t see it. As suddenly as his hands were on you, they left. He grunts and starts walking back to the tavern. You’re left to yourself for a short second, but you quickly quip behind him. The lingering of his touch burning your back with shivers. The only thing you can see are his broad shoulders, then he moves out of the way and you can finally see the inside of the tavern. It’s so warm and cheerful, you feel overcome by a sudden feeling of happiness. People laughing and drinking, women cheerfully dance to a bad melody. The smell of chicken pie and smoke soaking the environment. Fuck yeah.

You catch up with Sandor to a far table, isolated from the rest. You take a seat across him, excited as a baby to a birthday party. You almost jump from the happiness. Sandor watches you, scrutinizing your every move. He hasn’t figured you out yet, and that makes him nervous. You’re a small woman, you should be scared of him. Instead, you follow him around and look into him so deeply; you watch him as if you trust him. He knows that, whatever you try to do to him, he’s one of the strongest men in Westeros and could snap you like a twig. So, what is it that makes him nervous? Your gaze rests on his eyes, two seconds too much maybe, and you blush bashfully. He raises a brow ‘what is wrong with this woman?’. Your eyes grow big and wet, your mind racing with thoughts and questions. He looks away, unable to maintain the eye contact. You lower your own gaze.

You get served pie and two pitchers of red wine. It’s not so good – the pie – but since you were starving, you devour it in less than two minutes. Then you gulp down a full goblet of the shitty wine, to ease the passing. All the while Sandor looks at you shocked – as far as his facial expression can go. He’s never seen a lady behave like that, but – after all – you didn’t eat a thing the whole day.

A sigh escapes your lips, two more pitchers have gone, equally divided between you and the giant in front of you. The meal went silently, making you grow bored. The alcohol in your stomach – gone to your head – makes you act frantically: you get up and walk towards the dancing women. The Hound doesn’t stop you, just glances towards you with half lidded eyes. You have always been the drunk dancer, so it’s natural for you to go up there and take some woman’s waist and twist her in your arms. The black-haired woman laughs and holds her hand up facing you. You meet her hand with hers and dance in a circle, leaving her to circle with another woman. You quickly catch up the lyrics of the song and sing along with the ones participating. You laugh and dance for a while, head turning and vision going blurry. Your dress moves swiftly, calluses forming under your bare feet. You can feel two holes burning on your back, so you turn around. You make eye contact with the Hound and wink his way, rosy cheeks and hips swaying. He sips from his goblet, eyes lingering down your body. You feel more naked now than when you were wearing your grey shorts. Stomach aching and legs feeling like jelly, you walk back to the table. You don’t know if your stomach stirs from his stare or from the good laugh you’re having. And your legs are trembling from all the dancing, right? No other reason.

“You’re so dark and broody, I wonder what goes into that pretty head of yours” You exclaim, sitting poorly on your chair. Your hands go to your stomach, as your feet cross over the table. You huff from the exhaustion, taking deep breaths with your eyes closed.

“Ye don’t want ta know” he slurs, gulping his last drink. Your eyes open, legs go back on the chair and hands under your chin, with your elbows on the table. You stare into the balls of his eyes, trying to read him. His whole demeanour changes, he grows stiff and cold. Alright, he doesn’t want to be read.

“And what if I do?” you play, testing the waters. He snaps, eyes go from warm and sultry to dark and frozen. “I don’t!” he half yells. You’re surprised but unfazed by his reaction, you know he’s cutting the edges of his walls to make them sharper. You don’t care, but don’t insist, holding your hands up in defeat.

“I get it, sorry” You apologize, the energy drained from your body. Your many drinks starting to show their effects, you lay your head on the table. You gaze up at him from down there and ask “Can we go to sleep?”. He’s still stoic and cold, but places two coins on the table, making it jump. You jump too, standing with him. His strides are longer but he’s going slow on purpose, to keep an eye on you. He nods towards a narrow hallway upstairs, leading you to a room.

As soon as you see a bed, you launch yourself on it. It’s not the most comfortable, but it’s soft. And big. It’s a king-sized bed, but you don’t put much thought onto it. Sandor still stands at the feet of the bed; you look at him from behind your shoulder. “Come” You pat the other side of the bed, distancing yourself from the other end. “I won’t be too close, I swear” You plead him to stay. First of all, because you didn’t want to steal another comfort from him, today. Second, you are still a bit cold and the warmth of another body could help with that.

You can see the thoughts behind his eyes, wheels stirring and twisting. You thought he wouldn’t agree, but he sits on the edge of the bed. He starts taking his armour off, struggling to unclasp the straps in his drunken state. You crawl to his left, eyes asking silently ‘can I?’. You don’t touch him unless he asks you to, so when he growls, frustrated by his inability to do basic things, he nods. You help him get out of his heavy armour, eyes never meeting. You’re too embarrassed to look him in the face since he’s too close. His face inches from yours, you can smell the alcohol coming from his mouth. His eyes though, they don't leave you for one moment. Travelling down your face, then your exposed shoulders, the curve of your breasts, then to your hands. He burns with restraint: you surely wouldn't want to do anything with him. Yes, you're just using him for protection, he knows that. When you’re done, he hastily gets up and goes to lay on his side. How could someone ever want him. With these thoughts he closes his eyes. You blow out a candle, ‘patience’ you repeat to yourself. You fall asleep very quickly, your backs brushing lightly. Head empty.

#sandor x reader #sandor clegane #sandor the hound clegane #the hound #reader insert #sandor / reader #fluff #eventual smut #strangers to lovers #game of thrones

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everyones-fangirl · 9 months ago

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Delectable Little Pet

Warnings: 18+ This will be about after ascension Astarion so expect some extreme dark romance and future triggers. Stalking. Being super forward/not taking no for an answer. CNC. Edging.

Word Count: 1,932 (Shorter chapter but it is just pure smut. Also if you enjoy please let me know by liking or sharing! Thanks!)

Chapter 5

Astarion

I knew she was a wicked little thing from the moment I looked into her eyes, and my ploy to absolutely ruin her was already working. It wasn't just about taking what I wanted—no, I wanted her to beg for it. By the time I had her where I wanted, she would be pleading for me to devour everything she was. Watching her had become a perverse pleasure, a dark game that thrilled me more than I cared to admit. I made my presence obvious; even creatures without her heightened instincts would have sensed me lurking. Yet, she never told anyone, never asked for help. She played along with my twisted game, and soon she stopped closing her curtains altogether. It became clear she enjoyed the attention, putting on little shows just for me. She would tease herself, bending over extra slowly so anyone watching could see every curve of her body, or taking extra long with her nightly cleaning regime. She knew I was watching, and she liked it. But she never let me see her reach that peak, never allowed me the satisfaction of watching her come undone. Smart little pup.

My time had been preoccupied lately—a bit of a parasite problem, to say the least. But this complication brought unexpected benefits. Freedoms I thought I had lost forever were now within my grasp again. Tonight, as I watched her through the slightly parted curtains, I marveled at her audacity. She moved with deliberate grace, a tantalizing dance meant to provoke and entice. My blood sang with desire and the thrill of the hunt. She was playing with fire, and I could see the same dangerous spark in her eyes that mirrored my own dark intentions. She finished her routine, her body glistening slightly in the dim light, and she climbed into bed. I could see the tension in her form, the subtle signs of her arousal that she thought she kept hidden. It was a beautiful sight, one that fueled my own dark desires. But tonight, I had to be patient. My plan required time and precision. As she finally drifted off to sleep, I allowed myself a small, satisfied smile. She was already falling into my trap, one tantalizing step at a time. And soon, very soon, she would be mine. Every part of her, every secret desire, every hidden fear. She would beg for my touch, my bite, my possession.

I knew I'd be preoccupied in the coming days, an indefinite amount of time that promised transformation. For better or worse? Only time would tell, but I was certain of one thing: I'd emerge more powerful. With this in mind, I needed to leave Cassara with something unforgettable. Her subtle signs of interest—if they were genuine—suggested she might welcome what I had planned. A wicked smile danced across my lips as I imagined making her regret being such an insolent little brat. Her roommate would be gone for most of the evening, making my entry through the cracked window effortless. I slipped inside silently, my movements fluid and precise. Cassara lay peacefully, her thin nightdress clinging to her curves and leaving little to the imagination. Her long, dark brown hair fanned out across the pillow, the silky strands contrasting starkly with the paleness of her skin. The moonlight streaming through the window cast a soft glow on her, highlighting the subtle shimmer of green that appeared when the light hit her just right. Her lips, slightly parted in sleep, were full and tempting, and her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, the outline of her breasts visible through the sheer fabric. The sight stirred something primal within me, a hunger that demanded to be sated.

I allowed my hand to ghost over her inner thigh, savoring the warmth of her skin. My other hand was poised, ready to stifle any sounds she might make. As my fingers brushed higher, she awoke with a gasp, her dazed eyes widening in recognition and fear. She quickly masked it with anger, but I could see the underlying terror in her gaze. "Hello, little pup," I whispered, my voice dripping with dark amusement. "Did you miss me?"

She struggled against my grip, but I tightened my hold, pressing my hand firmly over her mouth. "Shh," I cooed softly. "Wouldn't want to wake the neighbors, would we?"

Her eyes blazed with defiance, but I could see the confusion and arousal mixed in. The duality of her emotions only fueled my desire. I leaned in closer, my lips brushing against her ear. "You’ve been a very naughty girl, Cassara. And naughty girls need to be taught a lesson."

I could feel her pulse quickening under my touch, the heat of her body betraying her mixed feelings. Slowly, I let my hand travel further up her thigh, teasing the edge of her nightdress. Her breath hitched, and a small, involuntary whimper escaped her despite her efforts to remain composed. "That's it," I murmured, my voice low and seductive. "Let go, Cassara. Let me show you how good it can feel to surrender."

Her eyes flickered with hesitation, but there was a spark of curiosity, a glimmer of desire that she couldn't entirely hide. I knew I was getting to her, breaking down her defenses bit by bit. My hand moved with deliberate slowness, heightening her anticipation, making her body respond in ways she couldn't control. "You can fight me," I whispered, my lips now brushing against her cheek. "But we both know how much you want this. How much you want me."

My fingers slid through her arousal, deliberately tracing the path to the sensitive nub that I was after. The sound that came from her when I pinched her clit was a symphony of pleasure and pain. Her gasp turned into a strangled moan, her hips instinctively moving against my hand, seeking more. "You like that, don't you?" I teased, my voice dripping with dark seduction. "I can feel how badly you want it. How badly you want me."

I let my fangs scrape down the side of her neck, the urge to bite almost overwhelming. Her scent was intoxicating, a mix of fear and desire that stirred something primal within me. I leaned in closer, my breath hot against her ear. "You drive me wild, Cassara. Every time I see you, I want to claim you, make you mine."

Her eyes were a storm of conflict, torn between resistance and surrender. It was delicious to watch her struggle, to see her resolve crumble with each passing second. I relished the power I held over her, the way her body betrayed her mind. "Remember this moment," I breathed, my voice a dark promise. "When I return, I’ll finish what I’ve started. And you’ll be begging for more."

I allowed my hand to drift lower, exploring the contours of her inner thigh, feeling the tension in her muscles. Her nightdress was almost transparent in the moonlight. I could see every curve, every shiver of her skin under my touch. "Such a tempting little thing," I murmured, my lips grazing her jawline. "So eager, yet so afraid. I wonder how long you'll keep pretending you don't want this."

I pressed my palm against her core, feeling the heat and wetness that betrayed her. Her breath hitched, her body arching into my touch despite herself. "That's it," I coaxed, my voice a velvet caress. "Give in to me. Let me take you. You’re so wet for me, Cassara," I taunted, my fingers slipping back to tease her entrance. "You can deny it all you want, but your body knows the truth. It craves me. You crave me."

I let my thumb circle her clit again, applying just enough pressure to make her squirm. "Tell me how it feels," I demanded, my voice a dark growl. "Tell me how much you want it."

She bit her lip, refusing to give in, and I chuckled darkly. "Stubborn little pup," I murmured, nipping at her earlobe. "But that’s part of the fun, isn’t it? Watching you break, bit by bit."

My fingers moved with a purpose, sliding inside her and curling to find that perfect spot. Her moan was guttural, raw, and I relished the sound. "That’s it," I whispered, my breath hot against her skin. "Feel me inside you. Imagine what it’ll be like when I have you completely."

I could feel her walls tightening around my fingers, her body trembling on the edge. "You’re close, aren’t you?" I taunted, my voice a seductive purr. "You want to come, but you’re holding back. Such a pathetic little slut, trying to resist."

But Cassara wasn't about to give in so easily. Despite the overwhelming pleasure coursing through her body, she summoned every ounce of strength to push me away. "Get off me, you bastard!" she snarled, her voice filled with defiance.

Her resistance only fueled my desire, and I pressed harder against her, relishing in her struggle. "Oh, I like it when you fight back," I taunted, my voice dripping with malice. "It makes it so much sweeter when you finally give in."

But Cassara wasn't about to back down. With a fierce determination, she pushed me away, and I allowed her to briefly break free from my grasp. We both knew if she actually wanted to break free she would and I already knew my charm had no effect on her. "I don't need you," she spat, her voice wavering with need. "I can—"

Before she could finish her sentence, I grabbed the back of her head, pulling her down by her thick head of hair, and continued pumping my fingers faster inside of her. "You can continue to fight all you want, sweetheart, I actually prefer it." I whispered, my voice dripping with malice. "But in the end, you'll beg for me. You'll beg for my touch, my cock, my everything." My grip tightened as she writhed beneath me, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "You're mine," I growled, my voice low and dangerous. "And you'll learn to enjoy every moment of it."

I pulled my hand away abruptly, leaving her gasping and desperate. "Not yet," I said, my tone commanding. "When I make you come, it will be on my terms. And you’ll thank me for it." Her eyes blazed with a mix of frustration and need, and I knew I had her exactly where I wanted. As I watched her struggle the anticipation was almost as sweet as the act itself, knowing that when the time came, she would be utterly and completely mine. I pulled back slightly, letting my fingers withdraw with agonizing slowness. Her whimper of protest was music to my ears. "Don't worry, love," I said, a wicked smile curving my lips. "This is only the beginning. When I return, we’ll both have our fill. But until then this pussy of yours isn’t allowed to come until I make it.

With one last lingering touch, I pulled away, leaving her panting and wanting more. Her eyes followed me, wide and uncertain, as I slipped back into the shadows. She might resist now, but I knew it was only a matter of time before she succumbed to the dark desires I had awakened within her. Cassara would remember tonight, and it would haunt her every waking moment until my return. She might hate herself for it, but she would be mine. Body, mind, and soul. The game was far from over, and I intended to savor every delicious moment of it.

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astoldbyaja · 6 months ago

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Primal - Ch.26 ~AU Predator (Franchise)~

We were deep in the woods where I was confident no one could find us or see Scorpion as he merely stood against a tree while his severed arm was pressed to his body and he was sitting very still while the arm was in a metal contraption, almost like a blood pressure cough you’d see near a pharmacy store. Chomper gave a gentle hiss as he curled up at Scorpion’s feet.

While he sat there, I merely sat on his thigh watching, hoping he wasn’t in pain. Finally looked at him noticing he was looking down at me with a gentle gaze. I knew he wanted me to sing now. I removed my phone from my pocket and scrolled through some of my music. I didn’t want anything deep too much that could cause someone to hear us. I wanted something that brought back good memories of love, not the false reality I had lived so long before I escaped. But a song from my childhood actually appeared and I couldn’t help but smile and hit play as the music started and I looked at Scorpion with a loving smile.

“If I could break this spell, I’d run to him today. And somehow, I know he’s on his way to me,” I sang gently moving my hand to gently graze my fingers through his locs. “Scorpion, you and I were meant to be.”

As I incorporated his name into the song, I noticed his eyes popped in shock. I could see it in his face, he isn’t used to showing such emotion, but I could imagine going through his mind he was thinking ‘There’s a song with my name it?’ I touched the spot above his top left mandible that was space enough to be his cheek.

“Far longer than forever I’ll hold you in my heart it’s almost like you’re here with me although we’re far apart.” I sang gently. He now leaned his forehead against mine almost like he was responding to my voice, giving a low purr that overtook Derek’s part in the song. In a strange way, it felt as if he were singing with me.

Far longer than forever, as constant as a star. I close my eyes and I am where you are. I looked at the cuff as it made a heightened beeping noise, and a light came from it. But I continued to sing.

“Sure, as the dawn goes the sunrise. We’ve an unshakable bond.”

I watched as Scorpion began to move from the cuff, his arm fully attached. My eyes popped in happiness where he did not look anywhere near surprised.

Destined to last for a lifetime and beyond!

Scorpion looked at me and nuzzled my forehead again before standing up and taking me along with him. He then placed both hands on my hips and just raised me into the air moving me up and down as if to test his arm’s strength. I smiled down at him continuing to sing as he was still purring heavily.

Far longer than forever

“Far longer than forever!”

I swear that I’ll be true.

“I swear that I’ll be true! I’ve made an everlasting vow to find a way to you!” I sang and gave a gentle yelp as he suddenly tossed me up in the air. I felt the wind gently move over my body.

“Far longer than forever!” I sang to the sky before falling and being caught bridal style. I smiled holding on to him, “Like no love ever known… and with your love, I’ll never be alone. Far longer than forever.”

Much stronger than forever.

His purr was deep against my body as he pulled me into him, eyes brimming with happiness as I leaned in to rest my forehead yet again against his letting my fingers graze the side of his cheek yet again.

“And with your love I’ll never be alone.” I sang deeply our eyes growing foggy together to show the feelings and sensations begin to rise between each other.

Suddenly, Chomper raised his body and hissed violently. We both looked forward and I noticed sticks were snapping violently in the distance, but nothing was shown walking above them to snap them. I gasped and Scorpion placed me on my feet and stepped in front of me. He leaned over and picked up his mask moving to put it on his face. The air hissing violently made me shake in fear of an enemy approaching.

Now electricity could be seen in a large form and standing before us was an even larger yautja. This was one had silver and polished armor, with what looked like red tipped tusks attached to the bottom of the mask. My eyes drifted down to the impressively large bust and tight stomach muscles shown through a mesh covering. This… this was a female. Chomper hissed violently edging further from us. Not wanting him to be hurt I called to him.

“Chomper, get back here!” I called to him. He quickly slithered back behind us. The female let out a deep roar. I immediately covered my ears.

“Not only do you dishonor our clan by taking a… human mate, but you teach her our sacred language. Have you no shame!” she spoke. I looked up at Scorpion upon hearing him snarl.

“As an enforcer of the clan, I am not bound by the old traditions of the clan when choosing a mate. You know this.” he said. The female snapped.

“That was if you chose a different species NOT a human!”

I could hear the disdain in her voice by how she spoke to me. So, this was the female who wanted Scorpion to be her true mate.

“The bad bloods have been taken care of. Why are you still here, Vashti?” Scorpion asked. His tone was surprisingly calm, as if this female showing up was something he expected.

Vashti snarled.

“I thought I would come here and find you and make a final offer for us to be mates and leave this planet together so you can sire more of my future suckling.” she stated. I felt embarrassed at this conversation. This female was very confident to say this in front of me. But then again, I couldn’t take her on. The muscle on her was extraordinary!

“This will be the last time I repeat myself. I have a true mate. My place is here by her side. Any suckling I sire will come from her belly and her belly alone. This planet is my station. They are all mine and mine alone.” he said firmly, and the female hissed, all the while I looked up at Scorpion with a smile of pride.

“How could you speak so highly of this pathetic creature; I could easily snap its neck with one hand and crush its skull with very little effort.” she said raising her hand and slowly curling her fingers into a tight fist. I looked at her with utter fear in my eyes.

But Scorpion’s new arm flexing out, his wrist blades extending sharply, made my eyes widen at how close they were to me. I looked up at him hearing the deep, guttural growl that left his mask.

“If you ever threaten my mate again with such conviction… by our clan traditions, I will kill you and it will not be an honorable kill or death.” he said lowly. My eyes widened at his words. I have heard him speak about honor killings. When a yautja comes with the task of having to kill another yautja due to sickness or rare defective gene that causes insanity within the creature, they are granted an honor killing by their honor code. But the fact that Scorpion was willing to throw away all of the honor he gained from his kills just to defend my honor was incredible! This female has lain with him, has had his babies, and he is without a doubt willing to take her away from them for me? I had to remember this was not a human situation, and I would remain in my place of things I did not understand.

Vashti shrilled lowly, and I looked at her wondering what it was she would do. Without another word, she merely turned and walked away cloaking herself in her armor. The sound of her feet on the grass grew faint in the forest. After a few minutes, Scorpion turned to look down at me. I looked up at him before looking his body over.

“Are you alright?” I asked softly. He now shrilled lightly raising his arm and lowering it.

“My arm is fine.” he said. I blinked a bit, stunned he thought I meant his arm. Already he has cast that female from his mind. I smiled gently.

“I… I love you, Scorpion.” I replied. I wasn’t sure how to say love in his language. I wasn’t entirely sure if what I said even made sense to him. Scorpion tilted his head.

“What is this word… love?” he asked. I smiled.

“It is a deep… emotion that humans feel for others. It is a strong, sacred feeling that not many humans ever get to experience or feel in their lifetime. You make me feel safe and happy. I am afraid for you when you are out there fighting, I would be sad if you are hurt,” I explained looking at his reattached arm. I then looked up at him with warmth in my eyes, “And when you are happy, I am happy. I want to protect you from all that would try and hurt you.”

Scorpion’s head tilted from the left and to the right like a confused and curious dog, as he listened to me speak. He finally placed his fingers on his mask and removed it.

He hooked it on his utility belt before finally staring down at me. Now the memories of our first meeting played in my head. He was a monster, a creature who’s existence I couldn’t fathom. He scared me, but he would not go away. He was drawn to me as I was now drawn to him.

“And I love you, Teleya.” he said. I felt overwhelming emotions explode inside me because I knew they were real. He then reached into his utility belt and pulled out the yautja soul link. I looked at it intensely realizing what he wanted. I nodded slowly and merely turned, moving back toward the ship. Its bridge lowered and Scorpion and Chomper followed me aboard it.

Tonight’s love making was different. As our wrists were tied together, my senses were definitely heightened. I was atop of Scorpion letting him control my movements, so I did not painfully impale myself on his massive cock. The room was filled with nothing but my yelling and moaning. My vagina was throbbing beyond anything I could comprehend. I held on to Scorpion’s locs for support and he grunted and growled as he raised me up and lowered me swiftly on him. My entire body felt on fire as I felt his cock grinding up my insides. By now our genitals were drenched in the different fluids from both our foreplay and my current movements.

Scorpion leaned down and licked the front of my throat causing me to shiver violently from the shocking sensations that had my body arching into him. At one point I was on my third orgasm, but I felt I could continue. I only felt this, because Scorpion then placed me gently on all fours and began to pump deep into me from behind.

“OH FUCK!” I sobbed out as I buried my face into the numerous furs. As he hit my gspot violently, I could only think of his threat to Vashti and how this somehow, I felt even more excited. It had to be the soul link. It had to be us becoming one again with it on. Scorpion’s movements sped up even faster and I cried out against as I came. I felt something gushing from me and Scorpion pulled out only for a moment so my juices could spray onto the furs. My body spasmed a bit, and I cried out once he re-entered me and continue to jack hammer himself into me. I then feel his massive chest on my small body.

He doesn’t press his entire weight into me. He had such restraint; he knew my body was already past its limit. His locs flow over my body and I feel his tongue glide over my cheek before it finds my mouth. I face him and cry out once he hits that delicious spot inside me. He uses that moment to slip his tongue into my mouth and I moan out around him as he explores my mouth. He starts to speed up even faster and I yell out in utter bliss as I feel his seed gush out into me. Scorpion raises his head to the ceiling and roars violently as his release hits him. He’s so hot and I feel his cum fill me up. Even when he removes himself from me, I feel something draining from me.

“Fuck.” I groaned. My throat burned from the screaming and moaning. Finally, I feel Scorpion raise me up and then position me at the head of the large furs. He curls up around me, purring softly and nuzzling the side of my head. I give an exhausted smile before letting sleep take me.

Normal POV

Det. Axel Bosch had been home for only thirty minutes before his nose was in his case files. He was going over photos he got from both the Black Jack club, the night of the attack, and from nearby stores and ring camera close to the Hu Mongol’s club when it got shot up.

He should have had this weeks ago. He was reviewing the pictures that stood out to him the most which was the ceilings of the buildings. There’s some type of static or electricity in certain spots of the buildings. But it wasn’t from lightning or electrical malfunctions, no this electricity had an odd… shape. It wasn’t a coincidence that all these cameras were malfunctioned in some way. He moved through the photos before something caught his attention. Something was coming down from the window at the Hu’s club. It looked like a person.

“What the hell?” he muttered as he leaned further in to view the image. Someone fell to their death? No there would have been a report on it. He had reports of dead Hu members in the club, but none on a civilian falling to their death.

There was a firm knock on his door making him look up immediately. Not expecting company, he drew his gun and kept it close as he approached the window by his door. He noticed a bunch of men in black standing at his door. He then moved over to the door and cracked it.

“Yes?” he asked. A tall pale faced man, standing at attention looked at him with a cold stare. His entire form shouted soldier.

“Det. Axel Bosch? My name’s Col. Miles Vallelonga, I work with the FBI.” he said holding up an open wallet to show his credentials. Axel cracked his door open a bit more so he could get a better look at the wallet. He knew specific military seals, so he knew the man wasn’t lying. He then noticed some men standing near his neighbor, Teleya’s door trying to peak in at her window. He was more alert, although he didn’t show it.

“Can I help you?” he asked opening the door more. Miles stood a few inches above Axel, and he motioned his head back to the home behind him.

“I was just wondering if you knew where your neighbor, Teleya Garrett, was.” he said. He knew she was camping, but in no way was he going to tell this guy that.

“Probably out with friends.” he said. Miles nodded, both older men observing the other. “Is she in some kind of trouble?”

Miles gave a professional smile; one Axel didn’t trust.

“We just need to ask her a few questions about some trouble she had found herself in the past. I was told you were working the cases actually.” he said. Axel shook his head.

“I don’t see why that’s any business of the FBI. All the situations involved gang violence. Teleya Garrett has been questioned and cleared.” he said. Miles gave a grin and nodded.

“Oh, I bet she has.” he said moving to look at the home again. Axel already knew he didn’t like this guy. Miles pulled out a square card and held it up to Axel.

“Well, if or when you see her, could you reach out to me?” he asked. Axel looked at the card before eyeing the man.

“Wouldn’t you want me to have her reach out to you?” he asked. Miles shook his head.

“Nah, it’d be better if you called us. And let’s keep this meeting between us to ourselves. Have a good night, detective.” he said before turning and moving down toward the sidewalk toward a row of unmarked vehicles.

Axel watched them leave before closing the door.

“Shit.” he merely replied as he locked the door. He knew his instincts were right. Something was going on that was more than just gang violence and Teleya was involved.

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