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boytearscore · 3 months ago

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i dare you to try. — chris sturniolo.

summary: you finally decided to join a car video with the triplets after years of them trying to convince you to, but when the topic “who’s more stubborn, you or chris?” is brought up, things take a peculiar turn in which chris is sure he can be the first guy you beg for, so you dare him to try.

warnings: fem!dom, chris!dom, smut, teasing, foreplay, swearing, choking, orgasm denial, size kink, bdsm.

taglist: @chericherrybaby, @fratbrochrisgf, @sturncakez <33

author’s note: so... funny story, girls... i got home from work last night and started writing but fell asleep with my phone on my face. hope you can forgive me, though. anyways, enjoyyy! xo 💋💋💋

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 (𝟸/𝟸)

friday night, 9pm.

you smile excitedly as you are getting ready to a party at the triplets house, eyes and hands are focused on the eyeliner, red lipstick already highlighting the lips and a black short dress moulding your curves. on top of that, underneath it, you were wearing orange lingerie. chris favorite colour, was it a little petty? yes, but you’re not about to lose this dare. absolutely no fucking way.

when you finished recording the video with them, nick had the idea of throwing a party the next day, he wanted to see chaos between you and chris for his own entertainment and so did matt. chris, on the other hand, has already been sending you risky texts and some pictures of his covered hard dick and other parts of the body he knew you were attracted to with captions like “give up already.” and “can’t wait to hear you beg and moan my name.”

you ignored all of it just to give him the impression you were threatened and shy when in reality, there was a whole plan ready to be put in action since he opened his mouth.

finally, you’re done. everything looked impeccable: hair falling over your chest that was mostly exposed by the dress cleavage, a pair of black tights that were connected to the lingerie and black leather boots that went to your knees, not to mention you smell incredible.

after checking yourself one more time in the mirror, a smirk painted in your lips, chris was not ready for that.

it was 10:30pm when you arrived at their house, loud music playing and people everywhere dancing, drinking and even throwing up.

you calmly go through the crowd of people when a pair of hands suddenly grab your hips pressing both bodies and you feel lips into your ear. the person didn’t even need to say anything, you could tell who it was by their scent.

“ready to be my little slut?” you feel the hot breath caressing your skin and the deep voice with a stupid cocky chuckle.

“not even in your dreams, christopher.” you reply, turning to him. matt and nick behind him laughing, that’s definitely the most fun they’ve been having in a while.

he smirks and you couldn’t stop yourself from eyeing his body, he has a black tank top that was complimenting his collar bones, shoulders and abdomen.

and chris would notice you savouring him, but he was too busy staring at your boobs. his mind racing with the thoughts of cumming all over them.

“it feels like i’m watching a porn without the sex part, just the eyes.” matt says and you both break glances at each other laughing.

“is no one gonna grab me a drink?” you ask, rolling your eyes and nick give you a “excuse me?” look.

“you’ve been here more than our parents, go get it yourself.” he replies and you just shrug.

“fucking worst host ever.” you murmur making sure he heard before going to the kitchen and opening the fridge, all you could think of was chris.

he looked so hot wearing that damn black tank top, why didn’t you notice how attractive he was before the bet? it’s like a blindfold was taken away from your eyes, you imagined him on his knees, pleading and whimpering in front of you. things got even more interesting now.

you grab a drink and take a huge sip, ignoring the burning feeling in your throat and walking again through the people, some you knew, some not. you danced either way, a few guys eyeing you from afar and then one came behind you, dancing.

“you alone?” he whispered into your ear and you smiled, turning to him and grabbing his hands to dance.

“always.” he smiles back at you, rolling you around and grabbing your hips. you started dancing, he was cute and really hot.

that didn’t last much, though.

someone abruptly grabbed your hand, making you look behind you with an angry expression.

“today you’re not.”

it was chris.

the guy just stared at chris and vanished away not wanting any trouble, you glance at the blue eyed boy, giving him the dirtiest look.

“what?” he shrugs, smiling. “i’m not sharing you with anyone today, whether you like it or not.”

you give him an eye roll but you’re not mad, it’s not like that guy was hotter than chris anyway.

“don’t ever grab my hand like that again.” you tell him with a serious face and he just nods, looking apologetic. “only if i allow you to.”

you get closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and rocking your body to the music. chris instantly smiles, his hands pressing hard on your hips. your fingers running to his hair, and you can’t help but push them back making him gasp.

“you’re such a menace.” he whispers, a hand sliding to your ass and turning you around.

you could feel everything, his hips crushing into yours and his dick getting harder everytime you brushed your ass while dancing. part of your plan was working and you didn’t even get started yet.

you turn to chris and place your hand around his neck, nails scratching it slightly causing him goosebumps.

he couldn’t resist the temptation, grasping your back and leaning in for a kiss, but you stopped him with a finger on his lips.

“not yet.” you smirk at him and he stares at you confused. “just shut your mouth and just follow me, or you won’t be having any fun tonight.” he thinks for a while and nods, not saying anything, the finger drawing a straight line down from his lips to his collar, dragging him upstairs.

when you both get to his room, he closes the door and throws you on the bed, getting on top of your body and pressing his torso against you.

you smirk, just watching him trying his best to be dominant, suddenly, his hand slid underneath your dress, touching slightly your inner thigh. you let out a small sigh, his hand was so warm and it felt so good.

“look at ya.” he mumbled into your ear, moving his hand closer to your pussy. “i’m not doing anything yet and you’re already gasping.”

you don’t say anything, just letting him play his game before yours starts. chris chuckles, amused by your unusual reaction, that motivated him to keep going.

his face close to yours, eyes staring at your lips before shutting them down and brushing both slightly against each other.

you wrap your arms around his neck, messing with his hair and he finally kisses you. not a gentle kiss, an obscene one. tongues fighting and wet sounds, chris can’t help but moan when he feels your nails digging on his back.

his hand finally touches your pussy covered by the lingerie and you moan biting his bottom lip. he laughs, breaking the contact and looks at you, usually that would be the perfect moment for a cocky comment, but he couldn’t fight the urge to tear apart your black tights and pull the dress to your waist, revealing the orange lingerie.

he’s stunned by a second, moving away from your body to take a better look.

“you fucking bitch.” he says, grabbing your chin and bringing you close to his face agresseviely. “you did this on purpose, didn’t you? to tease me.” he asks while using the other hand to undress you completely. “you’re such a slut, ya know that?” he throws you again on the bed, an expression on his face you’ve never seen before.

you smile, opening your legs in front of him and looking beneath lashes, still not saying anything. too bad for chris, but you knew him more than himself. he loves to talk shit and act all nonchalant, but he hates when people don’t engage or ignore it.

chris frowned, staring between your legs and to drive him even more mad, you placed a hand on your inner thigh, slowly going up until it got to your pussy, your fingers teasing it over the lingerie and moaning and making faces while staring intensely at his eyes.

the boy is speechless, he never got so hard and never felt this urgent need to fuck someone before. the sound of your voice moaning and the way you touched yourself, he was mesmerised by everything.

“chris…” you finally use one of your cards, biting your lips and moaning his name.

he can’t hold himself anymore, chris takes off his shirt and pants, still wearing boxes and walks towards you, the smirk on his face vanished a long time ago, all you could see was pure lust.

“you’re driving me crazy by doing that.” he leans against you, using one knee to support himself over the bed, making sure to rub your wet pussy with it. “that’s a dangerous game, i’m warning you.”

you can’t help but laugh, lifting one leg up to reach his dick and rubbing it slowly, his lips parted into a loud moan, tilting his head to the back.

“it seems to me you’re the one about to beg, chris.” for the first time in minutes, you spoke. he immediately looks at you, not liking your comment one bit but feeling his dick twitch.

“that’s rich coming from someone who just moaned my name like a slut.” he replies, grabbing you leg and dragging you to him, now you are completely laid down on the bed, he bends over to reach your waist and slides your panties till your ankle.

“i’m keeping this.” he smirks and throws the orange lingerie on his nightstand. “alright, i’m gonna eat you out till you cum all over my face.” he gets on his knees, leaning closer to your dripping wet pussy. you could feel his breath hitting the sensitive area and that made you shiver.

“thought you were gonna make me beg.” you say, watching every single move he makes. chris licks your clit without warning, causing loud moans from you. “fuck.”

he laughs, staring at you between your legs, hands spreading them as much as he can.

“no silly, i’m gonna make you beg me to fuck you.” he groaned, finally eating you out deliciously, his tongue alternating between flexing the muscles while inside you and letting it loose when sucking and licking all of it.

you grab his hair violently, pushing it hard while rolling your hips into his mouth.

chris was getting harder by second, to the point his dick started to hurt a little. he was moaning and eating you out at the same time, the vibrations causing you an insane amount of pleasure.

“fuck, chris.” you whisper, biting your lips to hide how much you were enjoying it. no guy has ever eaten you out like that before.

so much so that you were about to cum into his mouth, your legs started shaking and the grip on his hair got tighter. he notices your body reactions and smirk, licking and sucking even more faster and intensely.

your moans get louder, you feel contractions through your whole body, soon releasing all the pleasure and cumming into chris mouth.

he licks everything, letting your pussy clean and gets on the bed, crawling on top of you. you smiled at him and he could sense something coming but decided to ignore, all he wanted was to hear the magic words from your pretty mouth.

“i bet i’m the first guy to make you cum that fast, huh?” he says finally being face to face with you, his hard covered dick brushing against your bare pussy and both arms on each side of your head, you were so close that you could feel his heartbeats pressed over your chest, he reach your neck, kissing and sucking on it making soft gasps come out of your lips.

“beg me.” he murmured in your ear, one hand grabbing your boob and squeezing it hard. the pain felt so good, but you’re not about to lose. “beg me to fuck your little pussy.”

he stares at you, his hand going lower until it reaches your core, sliding one finger inside. your back curves, but you smile at him not showing signs of redemption.

and that’s when you decided it’s time.

with a quick move, you revert the positions, thanks to all the self defence classes you took a long time ago, getting a man off top of you wasn’t hard.

chris was shocked, his eyes widened and his lips suddenly opened like he was about to say something but couldn’t.

“you’ve failed.” you tell him, smirking. both of his hands were on top of his head, held by yours. with an evil expression, you press your ass against his dick and he melts under you. “it’s my turn now.”

you go for his lips first, and even though his ego was bruised by the fact that you could easily turn the situation to your favour, he’s too horny to care.

both lips were crashing hard while tongues enlaced, the grip of your hand holding his writs got even tighter when he started to move them, the other one was slowly creeping to his abdomen, chris moaned and gasp onto your lips and when you finally reached his dick, removing his boxers to expose his hard cock.

and then something slaps your back, making you look behind.

“holy shit.” you opened your mouth, turning yourself completely to make sure you saw correctly. “you’re fucking huge, chris.”

he laughs, finding your reaction cute and sitting on the bed when you let his hands go.

“think you can take it?” he asks and you stare back at him, smiling.

“only if you beg me first.” you reply, grabbing his dick and teasing the tip of it with your finger, chris closes his eyes and moans a curse word. “c’mon..” you whisper, slowly pumping him and his back curves. “beg me.”

“please…” he murmured, avoiding your gaze.

you smirk, feeling your pussy dripping. he looked so fucking hot doing that.

since chris was sitting, you easily extended your arm to his hair, pulling it hard to make him stare at you.

“say it again.” you order him spreading all the pre cum over the base of his dick and pulling harder his hair, chris was losing his mind at this point.

“please, let me fuck you.” he asks almost politely with his eyes glued on yours, his cheeks were a slight shade of pink and his red glossy lips parted, letting out shaken breaths.

you don’t answer, just push his shoulders to the bed making him fall and lifting yourself up to get on top of him again, the gaze between both of you was so intense and sexual.

you positioned his cock on your entry, teasing him a little by rolling your hips and chris bite his lip, you didn’t wanted him to fuck you, you wanted to fuck him.

and so you did, sliding his dick slowly inside you with a frown expression and eyes closed.

“does it hurt?” he asks worriedly, grabbing your hips with both hands and fighting the urge to make you jump hard on him.

“yes.” you reply opening your eyes, starting to bounce at a slow pace. “that’s how i like it.”

you feel his dick twitch inside you with your comment, he slaps one of your ass cheeks hard, and you moan loudly.

“you like that, huh?” one more slap, this time harder. you were already bouncing crazy on his dick and both of you were moaning so much that if the loud music wasn’t playing downstairs, everyone would hear. and honestly, none of you cared.

“shit.” chris growns, digging his short nails on your waist. you leaned a little to wrap your finger around his throat and he closes his eyes, gasping.

“so much for a dom.” you say with a shaky voice from the bouncing, tightening the grip around his neck.

he doesn’t say anything, his mind was fuzzy and raced. all he could do was moan and whimper loudly.

the twitches got stronger and you could tell he was about to cum.

“gonna cum?” you ask him and he nods desperately, but then you stop moving. he looks at you, a mixture of annoyance and pleasure. “say you’re my little slut, chris.” you incline over, rolling your hips in slow motion and biting his bottom lip. “say it.”

he lets out a huge sigh with the painful feeling of holding an orgasm, his eyes locked into yours, a few hair strands falling over them and sweat dripping from his forehead.

“i’m your little slut.” he whispers, pressing his hands hard on your waist.

you smile at him, finally moving faster. chris feels the lack of oxygen with the combination of an insane amount of pleasure get to his head. he looks at you like he’s about to say something and you notice his hesitation.

“what?”

“can i please cum on your boobs?” he avoids your gaze again and you feel like squeezing his cheeks, finally you nod. bouncing a couple more times and when he finally starts shaking, you get off of his lap, sitting on your knees.

chris gets up, he tries to grab his own dick, but you slap his hand.

“who the fuck said you could touch yourself?” you smirk, leading a hand wrap around his cock and begins to leisurely pump, chris tilts his head back, coming all over your boobs while you could capture every detail, his husky voice and his dick twitching uncontrollably while lots of cum shower your boobs, you made sure to get it all to your fingers and lick until there’s nothing left there.

slowly, his moans got quieter and he finishes cumming. he looks down at you, smiling and lending you a hand to get up, you smile back and grab his hand getting up.

“i fucking hate you.” he groans, pushing you closer to him by the hand and you laugh.

“that’s what someone who just lost a bet would say.” you reply and give him a little peck, he just rolls his eyes and laughs too.

“i’m doomed.” he slapped himself while you were putting back your dress, making you chuckle.

“don’t worry, my little slut.” you say calmly while putting back your boots. “you’re safe with me.” you say, giving him a wink and grabbing his tank top, throwing it at him. “you should use this more often though.”

chris squinted his eyes and a grin formed on his lips.

“will i fuck you everytime i wear this again?” he asks and you get up, turning to him.

“no, i’m the one who’s gonna fuck you.”

when you both were properly dressed, chris opens the door so you two could go downstairs, but something was waiting for him right outside.

“i believe you have something to say, chris.” nick and matt were leaned against the wall, arms crossed and lips pressed trying hard not to laugh.

but you can’t control yourself, letting a loud laugh come out of your lips, making them unable to control themselves as well. the only one serious was chris, who rolled his eyes and stared at the three of you, sighing loudly.

“fine…” he groans and turn to you, at least he got the best fuck of his life, so he wasn’t that mad. “i was wrong.”

you, nick and matt burst out laughing again and chris holds in for a while, but soon enough he’s laughing too.

#chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x fem!reader #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #strong female lead #strong female protagonist #fanfiction #fanfic #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #smut #chris x reader #chris sturniolo x you

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tadpolesonalgae · 6 months ago

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before the corn grows.

Batboys x depressive!reader

a/n: oh my gosh this was so therapeutic—also, I was unsure whether to include people on the az taglist in this fic since it’s technically a poly fic? Sorry if you didn’t want to be included in this, I wasn’t sure about it :/

As always, thank you for the request, anon <3!

warnings: mentions of self-inflicted violence, fluff, I think this is technically hurt/comfort?

word count: 2,766

——————————————————————————————————————————————

“Judgemental prick.”

“I don’t think I said anything.”

“You didn’t have to. It was written all over your face.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Cassian scowls, stirring in the fifth spoonful of sugar. “For the Spymaster, you were practically yelling it across the table. It’s the small things in life—I’ll enjoy some damn sugar in my tea if I want to.”

Azriel shifts in his seat, powerful arms folded over a broad chest, thighs spread as he relaxes into the seat. “There was nothing small about the amount you just put in,” he replies, smirking. “Just looking out for your health.”

“You look after yours and I’ll look after mine,” the General mutters, brows tightening at the cocky smirk on his brother’s mouth. Matching hazel eyes glint with sinister mirth that Cassian decides to ignore for today, raising the mug to his lips and drinking deeply.

He jerks violently, spraying the bitter liquid across the table, making Az recoil. “It’s salty?” He glares at his brother, who’s now grimacing at the smattering of tea that’s been spat in his direction. “I told you I was looking out for your health,” he mutters, reaching for the kitchen roll.

The General grabs it first, snatching the roll away, dabbing at his mouth and tongue before Azriel is leaning across the table, grappling at Cassian’s arm to try and pry it from his thick fingers. “Let go you prick, I’m the one who has that concoction on my tongue,” the General snaps gruffly. “And I’ve got your saliva all over my leathers. Hand it over.”

“Oh I’m sorry, did I ruin your pretty clothes? Is your vanity hurt?”

“Piss off, bastard,” Azriel snaps. “You should have paid more attention to what you were spooning into your drink.”

The door swings open and the third brother walks in, violet eyes visibly worried, fingers preoccupied with straightening the pristine cuff of his sleeves. Freshly polished shoes pause in their place, surveying the chaos that’s unfolded upon the kitchen table. The two pull apart, sobered by Rhys’s strained look, at once on guard.

“Where are you going?” Cassian asks, noting the fine but not flashy dress of the High Lord—clean but casual. “Have you seen her recently?” Rhys asks, and they both stiffen, shaking their heads. Hazel eyes glance at one another across the table, before returning to anxious violet, in time to catch him running a hand through his hair.

“She’d been focusing on getting orders done in time for solstice presents,” Azriel offers solemnly, “it’s when the most work comes in, so she’ll be resting now.”

“I’m going to check on her,” Rhysand announces, and neither of the Illyrians object. Not a word needs to be spoken to know the High Lord will relay whatever news there is to the two of them the second he learns it.

Then in a whisper of darkness, he vanishes.

————

The door had been locked, but it hadn’t been an issue.

The issue was the stagnant air in her house. The issue was the moulding bread in the kitchen. The issue was the dirty clothes scattered across her bedroom floor.

The issue was, she looked like she hadn’t gotten out of bed for a week straight, hair knotted and oily, skin lacking the warmth of life, eyes numb and unfocused.

He braces himself to deal with her, then lands three quiet knocks to her open bedroom door—letting her know he’s here. Blankets curl tighter, being pulled over her head, wrapping into a tight ball that shudders and sobs almost silently. He can hear the gasping inhales, the wet snivels as she tries to hide away.

He knew something had been amiss.

“Lovely,” he calls softly, the name like heated cotton against clean skin. “How long have you been sleeping for?”

————

You curl tighter, feeling the bed dip, the shape of a large, warm palm settling over your shoulder.

“Go away,” you manage numbly, throat raw, sinuses hurting. “I’m tired. Leave me alone.” Limbs wrap tighter, trying to pull yourself together for him. Simultaneously wanting to scream at him to get out, to hit and lash at him, wanting to melt into his arms. Yet the raging instincts rise, and rise, and repeatedly fall short, losing their momentum and disintegrating into silence. Your clothes are stiff and sticky, glued to your body with sweat and salt, and you hate you hate you hate everything so much that it has to be pushed away. Folded up neatly into a box and just pushed away.

Fingers latch over the duvet, prying it from your grip with startling ease, hands too weak to do much against him, stomach aching with nausea. Light cracks into your vision, and you attempt to hide from him, conceal the gleaming spit and snot across your upper lip and chin, hide the puffiness of your eyes and the knotted mess of your hair—damp from tears that had been shed what feels like hours ago.

“What’s wrong…?” He asks softly, knuckles brushing the rat-tailed hair from your forehead, pushing it away so it’s no longer being coated in saliva and mucus and tears. “Talk to me, please,” he whispers, making to pull you up.

Sobs wrack your chest, slamming into you with violent force, wet breaths gasping from cracked lips as you heave with despair, uncontrollable spasms seizing your lungs as a fresh wave wrecks through you. He can feel you shaking your head, wet palms trying to dry freshly tearful eyes, hot water dripping heavily onto his shirt as you try to stop.

“Please…” you croak out, stumbling over the word, interrupted by stuttering breaths. “Leave me…go…”

“I’m not leaving you like this,” he whispers tenderly, pushing wet hair behind a pointed ear. But you shake your head again, crying harder, and his heart fumbles in his chest, aching sharply.

“I don’t…go away,” you moan shakily, head lowered against his shoulder. “I don’t want you here.” Lips are weighed in viscous saliva, turning them soft and slimy, making it hard to speak. “I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs, arm wrapping over your back, power sliding for the window to flick the latch open—get some fresh air circling the space.

“I don’t…I don’t want you here!” You cry sharply, trying to wriggle out of his hold, struggling to return to your grave-like bed. To dive into the thick and smelly sheets that’ll get tangled with your limbs. “Lovely,” he says quietly, “hold still.”

Your body shudders to a gradual stop, shins and upper arms burning with the movement, left raw and unhealed from the lack of energy. Breathing stutters as you try to back away from hyperventilating, trying to calm your lungs, but the airways continue to spasm.

His broad palm pushes the stray locks of hair away, still saturated with salty tears that clump at the ends, scraggly and messy and smelly and damp and cold and…you try to pull away from him, feeling disgusting for getting him dirty. He’s so clean and tidy, and smelling so nice, like freshly washed sheets and crisp morning air. He shouldn’t be in your room.

You can hear the stuttering pulse of his heart, the only give to his emotions and one you’re only able to discern because he doesn’t think to hide it from you. He strokes your hair soothingly, goading you to calm, to resign yourself into his care so he can look after you.

“I’m tired,” you manage, chest shuddering with stammering breaths.

“Then rest,” he whispers, “but let us be with you.”

“No…” You shake your head, brows scrunching as your lungs begin to flutter and he holds you just that little bit tighter. It’s bad enough that he’s seeing you like this, it can’t be the others too. “Rhys…”

“Let’s get you cleaned up, first,” he murmurs, pulling away and cupping your jaw, violet meeting your gaze, “okay?” Your lower lip wobbles, fresh tears spilling as you grip just that little bit tighter, at last falling into him, if only because you lack the energy to stave off anything else. Far too tired to protest.

————

It had been so much worse than he had been anticipating, and a small part of him recoiled with sorrow when wrapping her shins in bandages, carefully applying a numbing balm to her upper arms to ease with movement.

He hadn’t realised…he hadn’t seen the signs… Even looking back on the weeks leading up to Starfall, he can’t find anything out of order. She’d been as peaceful as usual, as calm and reserved as normal, preparing for the influx of projects, almost anticipating them, desiring things to preoccupy her mind with, perhaps.

He feels wretched and useless, only able to scramble after the remnants of the storm. Desperately trying to find pieces of what he’d known in the wreckage of a war. Her eyes stay vacant, though not as foggy as when he’d first found her.

A bath had been too painful, so he’d used his hands to clean off the grime, only a flannel, soap, and a warm bucket of water at his disposal. He can only hope that once she’s fed, her body will begin its reconstruction, stitching together the thin slices, healing over scars so she doesn’t have to be reminded of it. Though he wonders if that’s an appealing aspect rather than a detestable one.

He’s proud of his own scars, memories stored away within his skin, stories contained within the tissue of battles long past. A map of his history placed into the grain of his body. He wonders if it’s at all comparable—how she starves herself so the cuts might set, so she will be able to look back at what she’s gotten through. A token of some kind for surviving. To know that while it’s all inside her own head, none of its meaning is detracted.

Pain is still pain, no matter where it comes from.

————

You’d tried so desperately to pull yourself together. To keep those haunting beats of emotion kept wrapped up in ribbons and bows, so it would be less inclined to leap out if stored comfortably.

Had tried to sit on the box to keep it from bursting open, so you wouldn’t have to bear that vulnerability. You’d rather stick yourself with knives that try to articulate what can only exist in the blood of your veins and the screaming caves of your mind. The echoes that repeat until painful instructions are being mumbled upon your numb lips, hardly unaware of the order to cut, cut, cut.

Had managed for the most part to section them off, until he’d finished tucking you into a spare bed, and his lips had brushed your cheek.

Then some tears had again dripped out, but he’d thumbed those away tenderly, never becoming fed up on the nonstop trickle.

You could hardly manage to look at him, not ready to face that reality yet. Then he’d told you he would be finding you a meal, and that you should eat as much as you felt capable of, but that you should try. And then he had pressed another light kiss to your cheek, swifter than the last, not giving you time to comprehend it, helping keep the tears to a minimum.

A large part of you is relieved, a great weight raised and wiped from your shoulders now your skin is clean again, now your hair is no longer sticking to your scalp but smelling fresh and healthy. Relieved you can again feel your circulation up and running, having gotten too used to the freezing tips of your fingers and toes, the cold numbness that had overtaken your shins and arms as your body tried to spool in the blood to your torso.

A knock sounds at the door, and you lift your head to spot hazel eyes watching you, concerned, and you can’t help the small smile that tugs at the corners of your mouth. He sees the reaction, and sighs, opening the door a little wider so he can walk inside.

“Does Rhys know you’re here, Cassian?” You ask, a sad smile on your lips as you incline your head to look up at him, stood beside your bed. Before he can answer though, you here a derisive snort coming softly from the hallway, and a tender warmth unfurls in your chest, throat aching a little with emotion. “Az, you too?”

A figure wreathed in shadow steps guiltily into the empty doorframe, one hand resting on the wooden beam as if he might leave.

You swallow thickly, shifting comfortably beneath the crisp sheets, liking how they rustle with the movement, scraping against bare and clean skin, even if it hurts a little. “Did… Has Rhys told you…?”

Cassian watches you silently, an anguished look on his features, but Azriel pauses, then nods his head solemnly.

Your lips press together into a thin line, unsure what to say if they already know. There’s no use in lying then, or trying to get out of it. Not without causing more concern. So you allow your shoulders to slump, resting back into the pillows. “I don’t really know how it happened,” you admit quietly, peering into your lap. “I just…I guess it had been building up for a while.” Your eyes shut briefly, hands rising to cover your face, rubbling lightly at your brows before falling away again, “I didn’t even know I was in it until I was out of it.”

“It’s okay. You don’t need to explain anything,” Cassian says thickly, hand hesitantly settling over your shoulder, thumb stroking in slow, careful motions, ready to pull away if you don’t want the touch. But your lower lip wobbles, head dipping a little, before leaning into the gentle feel, the broad, reassuring warmth of his palm, the callouses rasping against your scrubbed-soft skin.

“We wanted to make sure you were okay,” Az murmurs, closer than he should sound from the doorway, but then you feel the slightly cool breath of his shadows curling against your cheek, and a tear drips down your face. You nod. “I’m fine,” you rasp, voice thick, clogged with emotion, “now. I’m fine now.”

“Are you…” Azriel begins, trailing off when you glance at him questioningly, his heart aching when you turn your gaze to him, the small cuts peeking out from atop the duvet. Cassian takes up the lead, thumb still gently sweeping over your shoulder. “We want to hold you. Will you let us?”

Your lower lip wobbles, eyes growing hot and wet at the simple ask, somehow knowing exactly what you’re too afraid and embarrassed to ask for. “Yes…” you manage, voice small and quiet.

Neither of them comment on it, moving with swift certainty, collecting at your sides as their wings reorganise at their backs. It’s a rare sight to see them in anything other than their leathers, but the soft fabric is welcomed as they settle, the pale linen thin enough for you to feel heat through it, to almost be swept away by the comfort their scent brings, like returning home after weeks away, remembering the scent that you become too quickly accustomed to, to fully appreciate and treasure.

You lean into Cassian’s side, head tipped against his shoulder, Azriel pressed close enough to twine your fingers together in your lap atop the sheets, shadows roaming freely between the three of you, a sure sign you’re home again.

A long sigh comes from the doorway, sounding more resigned than disapproving—he knew this was going to happen at one point or another. There would be no separating any of you in a moment of need or vulnerability.

“I thought I told you to at least wait until she’d recovered a little more,” Rhys sighs, a gently scolding tone to his words, eyes displeased but softening when they spot how you’ve practically melted into his brothers’ sides. You switch subjects, eyeing the tray he’s brought, stomach grumbling as the promise of a hot meal dawns in your mind. “That smells good…” you murmur, watching him intently, and a fond smile curves his lips.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Rhys replies. “Your favourite, if my memory serves.”

Your brows curve, lip wobbling again—you don’t deserve this. Them.

But Rhys has already leaned over Cassian, pressing a kiss to your forehead, smoothly sliding the tray into your lap.

“Eat,” he instructs softly. “If you’re still so inclined, you can cry afterwards, but eat first, okay?”

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria @nighttimemoonlover

az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @assassinsblade @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01 @throneofsmut @vickykazuya @starlitlakes

#poly!bat boys #batboys x reader #poly!batboys x reader #batboys x reader fluff #poly!batboys x reader fluff #before the corn grows.

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delusionalwritingsofagay · 3 months ago

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¡Hello! Could you request the Cullen family and adopted male reader? where the reader was sweet and outgoing before, but when he reached adolescence he became rebellious and rude (something like in the movie Thirtheen).

PS: I'm sorry if you don't understand me much, English is not my main language.

Fractured Reflections

Pairing : The Cullen Family x Adopted reader Tags: Platonic, Teenage rebellion, Family feelings Word count : 860 Y/n: Your name L/n: your last name

The sound of exuberant laughter echoed through the halls of the Cullen house, a distant memory of what once was. Sunlight streamed through the large windows, illuminating the exquisite décor and the faces of the family: Edward, Esme, Carlisle , Alice, Jasper, Emmett, and Rosalie. They were gathered in the living room, exchanging looks of concern.

“He used to be so bright,” Alice sighed, her usually bubbly personality dimmed with worry.

“He’s lost his way,” Esme added softly, her heart heavy with the struggles of their adopted son , Y/N. Once known for his wide smile and infectious laughter, Y/N had transformed into a shadow of his former self; rebellious, rude, and hiding secrets behind a mask of indifference.

“Maybe we should talk to him,” Edward suggested, his brow furrowed. As the mind reader of the family, he had witnessed the turmoil swirling in Y/N’s head, a storm of anger and confusion battling with their love. But confronting him had proven difficult. He had built walls around his emotions, rebuffing their attempts to reach him.

Just then, the front door slammed shut, and the atmosphere thickened with dread. Y/N stood in the doorway, breathless with adrenaline, his face flushed from the adrenaline rush of whatever teenage escapade He’d plunged into this time. Dressed in black ripped jeans, a band tee, and a leather jacket, He looked every inch the embodiment of rebellion.

“I’m home,” He muttered, sarcasm dripping from her voice. There was no warmth, no acknowledgment of his family standing in the room.

“Y/N,” Alice began, her voice filled with genuine concern. “We were just talking about—”

“Talking about what? How I should dress differently, or how I should be more like a perfect, little Cullen?” He shot back, eyes cold. “I’m not going to fit into your perfect little family mould, Alice. Got it?”

The words stung more than anyone could have imagined. His family had always provided him with endless love and acceptance, and yet, He stood, wielding that love like a weapon.

“Y/N, please,”Carlisle interjected gently, his calm demeanour attempting to soothe the storm brewing in her heart. “We care about you. We’re just worried.”

“All you guys do is worry,” He snapped, turning away from them. “I’m fine. I can take care of myself.”

With a heavy sigh, Edward took a step forward. “No, you’re not,” he said, his voice firm but layered with tenderness. “You used to share everything with us. What happened?”

Y/N hesitated, the walls He had been building starting to crack. He wanted to scream, to shout that He felt lost, that the world felt too big and constraining at the same time. Instead, He simply shrugged. “I grew up, okay?”

“Is that what you think this is?” Emmett’s booming voice broke into the tension. “Being a kid isn’t about fitting into some image. It’s about figuring out who you are. But you’re making choices that can hurt you. We just want to help.”

Y/N spun to face him, anger sparking in his eyes. “Help? By being judgmental? By sticking your noses where they don’t belong? You don’t understand what it’s like to feel trapped, to feel like everyone expects you to be something you’re not!”

“Then let us in,” Esme urged, stepping forward. “Talk to us, Y/N. We’re your family. We love you no matter what.”

The words hung in the air, and Y/N felt something shift within him. The anger He had clung to so tightly felt flimsy in the presence of their unwavering love. He looked at each of their faces, and for the first time in a long while, He felt a flicker of vulnerability.

“Everyone at school… they change so fast,” He began, his voice wavering. “I thought I had to change too. I thought it would help me fit in. But all it’s done is push me away from you guys. I don’t want to lose you.”

“You’re not losing us,” Edward reassured him, stepping closer until they were face-to-face. “We’ll always be here, no matter what.”

Tears began to pool in Y/N’s eyes, the façade cracking as the emotions poured forth. He hated feeling so weak, but the warmth of familial love was too overwhelming to resist.

“I just… I feel so lost sometimes,” He confessed, his voice shaking. “And I don’t know how to find my way back.”

Emmett stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Finding yourself doesn’t mean losing who you’ve been. You’re still Y/N. You’re still our brother, and we want to help you navigate this.”

Alice rushed to his side, enveloping Y/N in a warm embrace, followed by Esme and the rest of the family. They formed a circle of support, a reaffirmation of love in the midst of confusion.

“You’re allowed to be a work in progress,” Rosalie said softly, a rare tenderness shining through. “We all are.”

And for the first time, He felt the flicker of his old self—a self that never truly disappeared, just buried beneath layers of rebellion.

#x male reader #lgbtq #x male!reader #the twilight saga #twilight saga #twilight #twilight x male reader #twilight x y/n #twilight x reader #alice cullen #edward cullen #rosalie hale

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mxnsterbabe · 9 months ago

Text

Male Troll/Female Reader SFW Wordcount: 3,343 Tags & Warnings: plus size monster Part One (here) | Part Two (coming soon!) Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist

You’re an escort, but the last thing you expected was to fall for your favourite client.

You pause outside the sleek facade of the restaurant, the cool evening air caressing your skin. Glancing at your phone one last time, you scroll through Sorrel's profile, absorbing every detail. Sorrel, an unusual name for an even more unusual client.

Trolls rarely make their way into the heart of the city, preferring the solitude of their natural dwellings. Yet here you are, about to meet one for dinner in one of the most upscale places in town.

Your job often demands a chameleon-like ability to adapt, to mould yourself into whatever your clients desire. A laugh here, a sympathetic nod there, all performed with the ease of a well-rehearsed play.

Sorrel's request is refreshingly simple: just company, and above all, authenticity. It's both refreshing and daunting. How long has it been since you were asked to simply be yourself?

Taking a deep breath, you tuck your phone away. Your reflection in the restaurant's glass doors gives you a moment's pause—a young woman, elegantly dressed, poised on the edge of an unfamiliar encounter.

With a final steadying breath, you push the door open and step into the warm, amber-lit interior.

A pretty waitress, with a smile as polished as the cutlery, guides you through the restaurant when you enter. The beauty of the place unfolds around you; all soft lighting and hushed tones. Chandeliers cast a golden glow over tables draped in pristine white linen, each adorned with delicate glassware and silver.

The murmur of conversation blends with the gentle clinking of dishes, and soft, classical music plays. It doesn’t strike you as the kind of place a troll would like; they’re known for their love of natural living, not fine-dining.

As you take in the opulence, a flutter of self-consciousness washes over you. The elegance of your surroundings makes you feel suddenly underdressed, and you can't help but wonder about Sorrel. The cost of dining here must be astronomical; does he intend to make a statement, perhaps to showcase you as a trophy of his affluence?

As you approach the booth, you see him. Sorrel is a striking figure, a hulking presence that commands the space around him. His mossy green hair, a wild, natural crown, complements the dense fur that covers his body. His eyes, sharp and discerning, fix on you, and there's an intelligence in his gaze that belies the brutish stereotype of his kind. Despite the tailored suit that strains slightly against his muscular frame, there's no disguising the power in his broad shoulders, the soft curve of his belly. The suit, while elegant, seems almost a concession to human norms, doing little to mask his inherent, rugged appeal.

A wave of unexpected attraction washes over you, stirring a flush of excitement in your stomach. It's an odd sensation, this pull towards someone so different.

Gathering your composure, you slide into the booth, the soft leather cool against your skin. The space between you and Sorrel crackles with an energy as you offer a gentle smile.

"Hello," you begin, your voice well-rehearsed. You're acutely aware of your posture, the calculated tilt of your head, the practiced smile. Sorrel asked for authenticity, but it’s difficult when faced with such an imposing man.

Sorrel's response, however, is not what you anticipate. His voice, deep and resonant, carries a gentleness that seems at odds with his formidable appearance. "Good evening," he rumbles, his sharp eyes softening. "I hope the night finds you well."

As he speaks, the tension in your shoulders begins to ebb. There's a sincerity in his words, a vulnerability that peeks through the confident exterior.

With a smile, you turn to the menu. You hesitate, the array of exquisite dishes foreign and intimidating. There are a lot of words, and a lot of words that you don’t understand.

Maybe sensing your uncertainty, Sorrel leans in. His hands brush against yours, and the warmth of him makes you shiver..

"The risotto is my favourite. The salmon, too - it’s this one here, at the bottom."

You glance up at him, face flushed. You’ve been on countless escort jobs, and it’s always just been that. A job. Yet, as you soak in Sorrel’s warmth, his fur tickling your palm, something stirs inside you.

The words stick in the back of your throat as a waitress arrives. All you can do is nod in agreement as Sorrel makes a suggestion, and the waitress departs with your order.

There's a lull in the conversation, a moment of silence as you take in the man before you. "I must admit," you find yourself saying, breaking the quiet with a nervous laugh, "I didn't expect someone like you to be in a place like this." The words are out before you can stop them, and a flush of embarrassment warms your cheeks. "I mean, I made assumptions based on... well, what I thought I knew about trolls. I'm sorry."

Sorrel's laughter, rich and warm, fills the space between you. "No offense taken," he assures, his smile genuine. "I often find myself frequenting these types of restaurants. The same way the forest holds its charm, so does a well-crafted dish or a beautifully composed piece of music."

"I've not had the chance to dine in places as grand as this very often," you admit with a laugh, the restaurant's opulence still wrapping around you like a soft blanket. "It's a rare treat. You must do quite well for yourself, Sorrel. What is it that you do?"

Sorrel sets his glass down, the light catching the deep green of his eyes. "I left my clan some years ago," he begins, his voice solemn now. "We had... differing views on how to engage with the expanding human world. I believed in integration, in finding a way to coexist beneficially."

You lean in, captivated by his story, the depth of his conviction. "So, what did you do?"

"I started my own company," he says, a hint of pride in his voice. "We specialize in eco-friendly construction materials. It sounds dull, I know, but it’s something I care about."

Your chest flutters. "That's incredible," you respond, genuinely impressed. "Although, I’m sorry about your family.

He shrugs. “Don’t be, it’s been a long time since I’ve been back home.”

The arrival of the meal serves as a delicious interruption, and the garlicky, savoury smell makes your mouth water. The risotto you chose under Sorrel's recommendation is creamy and rich, with the earthy aroma of truffles enveloping you. Sorrel's salmon is presented with an artistry that matches the taste, the fish's delicate flesh flaking at the touch of his fork.

"This is incredible," you murmur, savouring each bite, your previous apprehensions about the evening melting away with the flavors on your tongue.

Sorrel smiles, watching you with a contented gaze that makes your heart flutter. "I'm glad you're enjoying it."

You smile, delving in, beginning to forget that this isn’t a real date. As you eat, the conversation meanders from the culinary arts to travel, to the hidden corners of the world each of you dreams of exploring. He’s a traveller, like you, although he’s visited places you could never dream of.

As the main course plates are cleared away, Sorrel suggests a dessert to share, a classic tiramisu that promises to be as light as air. When it arrives, you both lean in, the spoon Sorrel hands you brushing against his, sending a spark of electricity through you. You scoop a small portion, the dessert's creamy layers dissolving instantly on your tongue, and you can't help but close your eyes in appreciation.

"Good?" Sorrel asks, his voice low and tinged with amusement.

"More than," you reply, opening your eyes to find his gaze lingering on you with an intensity that quickens your pulse.

It's easy, in the soft lighting and over the shared sweetness of dessert, to forget the nature of how this evening came to be.

It's only when the waiter discreetly presents the bill that reality nudges you back into your role. Sorrel doesn't hesitate, reaching for his wallet with a grace that belies his size.

"How would you prefer the payment?" he asks, his tone casual but with a hint of something more, perhaps a reluctance for the evening to end in such a transactional manner.

The question jolts you back to the present, a reminder of the professional boundary that, for a fleeting moment, had seemed all but erased. "A bank transfer would be fine, thank you," you manage to say, your voice steady despite the way your stomach twists.

As you stand to leave, the warmth of the restaurant's ambiance contrasts sharply with the cool detachment now settling over you. Sorrel escorts you to the exit, his presence as reassuring as it is imposing.

At the doorway, you turn to him, the night air cool on your skin. "Thank you, Sorrel, for a truly wonderful evening," you say, sincerity lacing your words.

"Thank you," he replies, and something like regret flickers in his eyes.

On impulse, you rise on your toes and place a gentle kiss on his cheek. It's a small gesture, but it carries the weight of all the evening's revelations, his fur soft against your neck.

“Goodbye, Sorrel.”

“Goodbye. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

As you part ways, the night swallowing his towering figure, you're left with a warmth that no chill can dispel. The memory of the evening, of Sorrel, lingers like a sweet aftertaste, leaving you wondering just how you’re supposed to forget about him.

***

A week slips by, quieter than usual, leading you to pick up part-time shifts at a local hotel to fill the gaps. The monotony of the days contrasts sharply with the vivid memory of your evening with Sorrel, which lingers no matter how much you try to forget.

When a new request pops up on the escort site from Sorrel, your heart leaps. The anticipation, the unexpected thrill of seeing him again, infuses your routine with a newfound energy. Preparations for your meeting are made with a care and attention you hadn't realized you'd been missing.

The park chosen for your rendezvous is entirely different to the opulent restaurant of your first encounter. As the evening draws in, the tranquility of the park, with its towering trees and the soft murmur of the evening breeze, soothes your nerves.

You spot Sorrel at the agreed-upon spot, his imposing figure somehow at peace among the natural surroundings. Today, he’s wearing a more casual fitted black shirt that hugs his generous curves.

His face lights up as he sees you approach, a genuine smile spreading across his features.

"It's wonderful to see you again," he greets, his voice carrying a warmth that wraps around you like a comforting embrace.

"The feeling's mutual, Sorrel," you reply, your own smile reflecting your genuine happiness. "I wasn't sure if you'd... well, want to meet again."

"Why wouldn't I?" he asks, his tone laced with genuine confusion and a hint of amusement. "Our last evening together was more enjoyable than I've had in a long time. I've been looking forward to this all week."

Your heart flutters at his words. It’s your job, you know, to be liked - but hearing it from him sends a thrill through you.

"I'm glad,” you say. “I've thought a lot about our last, er, date."

Sorrel's gaze softens, the park's gentle evening light casting a serene glow over his features. "I've found myself doing the same. There's a simplicity in your company, a peace I've come to... crave."

The admission hangs between you. It's clear that the bond formed over that dinner has only deepened with time, but you have to wonder if this feels all a little too real.

"Would you like to take a walk?" Sorrel suggests, gesturing to the winding path that leads deeper into the park.

"I'd like that," you agree, and together, you begin to walk. You link an arm through his, enjoying how big and sturdy he is. It’s difficult to resist the urge to lean in close, soaking up the scent of his cologne.

The park around you is quiet, the occasional rustle of leaves and distant sounds of the city the only interruptions to the silence.

As you walk alongside Sorrel, the proximity and the gentle brush of his hand against yours send ripples of excitement through you. Each step seems to synchronize with the beating of your heart, a rhythm that echoes the growing closeness between you. The thrill of all surprises you, and you find yourself leaning deeper against his plush side.

The small talk that fills the air between you is comfortable, and you find yourself eagerly listening to Sorrel’s deep, rumbling voice. You chat about the park, and the mundane details of your respective weeks. Yet, beneath the surface, there's a tension, as if there’s something more floating beneath the surface.

It's Sorrel who breaks the veil of casual conversation, his voice taking on a more somber tone. "You know, I've always found myself caught between two worlds," he begins, his gaze fixed on the path ahead. "In the city, I'm too troll for most people to understand. Among my own kind, my views, my... aspirations make me an outsider. Too modern for my own kind, but too different for everybody else."

You listen, your heart aching at the vulnerability he's willing to share. The loneliness of his position between two worlds, becomes achingly clear.

"That's part of why I sought your company initially," he continues, his voice barely above a whisper. "I needed to feel understood, even if it was just for a moment, even if it had to be... bought."

The honesty of his admission strikes a chord within you, the professional facade crumbling further with each word.

"Now," Sorrel pauses, taking a deep breath, "my mother is ill. She's asked me to come home."

The weight of his words hangs in the air, heavy with the gravity of his decision. The silence that follows is filled with a thousand unasked questions, each one a reflection of the complexity of his situation and the depth of your concern for him.

"What will you do?" you find yourself asking, the question laden with more than professional curiosity. It's a question born of a connection that's deepened beyond expectation, a genuine concern for his well-being.

Sorrel stops walking, turning to face you. In the fading light, his expression is a mix of resolve and uncertainty, green eyes thoughtful.

"I don't know," he admits, and in that moment, the vulnerability he displays, the raw honesty of his predicament, draws you even closer.

You stay quiet, allowing him a moment to think.

Sorrel's gaze drifts away for a moment, lost in thought, as if he's trying to piece together the puzzle of his future right there in front of you. "I think I need to go back," he says finally, his voice steady but tinged with a hint of resignation. "I want to be there for her, help her heal. She's always been the anchor of our clan, and without her strength..."

He trails off, the weight of his responsibilities, of his love for his family, evident in the pause. "Once she's well, perhaps I'll return to the city. Or perhaps not. The truth is, I don't know where I truly belong."

The vulnerability in his admission, the open-ended nature of his future, pulls at something deep within you. You reach out, almost instinctively, your hand finding his. The touch is electric, and you let out a muffled sigh.

"It sounds like you've got a tough road ahead," you say, your voice soft but full of empathy. "Being there for your family, making sure your mother has everything she needs to recover... it's a beautiful thing to do, Sorrel. It speaks a lot about the kind of person you are."

He looks at you then, really looks at you, and in his eyes, you see a mixture of gratitude and something else, something deeper.

"Thank you," he whispers, and there's a warmth in his voice that wraps around you like a comforting embrace. "For understanding, for... for being here with me now."

The moment stretches between you. So does the quiet. The world around you fades into the background, leaving only the heavy thrum of your pulse in your ears.

"You should do what's best for you," you find yourself saying, your words laced with an unspoken sadness at the thought of his departure. "Your family needs you, and it's clear your heart is with them, too."

Sorrel squeezes your hand gently, a silent acknowledgment of the truth in your words. "I guess I always knew my path would lead me back home, eventually."

A twinge of disappointment tugs at your heart as the reality of Sorrel's impending departure settles in. Despite the professional boundaries you should adhere to, you can't deny the longing that has blossomed between you. Yet, beneath the layers of what-ifs, you find resignation setting in.

As you both resume walking, the conversation gently shifts, weaving through lighter topics. You admit, you’re grateful for the change of topic.

You share stories of your travels, the places Sorrel has been, places you’d love to go.

"I've always wanted to visit Thailand," you mention wistfully, the image of crystal-clear waters and verdant landscapes painting your words. "The culture, the food, the beaches... it seems like a world away from here."

Sorrel listens intently, his interest genuine. "Thailand is beautiful," he agrees, "you should go sometime."

The conversation takes an unexpected turn when Sorrel, with a look of determination, insists on paying you extra for your time. "Consider it a contribution towards your Thailand adventure," he says, his tone brooking no argument.

You hesitate, aghast at the number when you check your bank account. Three-thousand dollars. The offer touching yet tinged with the finality of a parting gift.

"Sorrel, that's too generous, I can't—"

"Please," he interrupts, his voice soft but firm. "Let this be my way of ensuring you get to experience the beauty of the world. You deserve it."

The sincerity in his eyes, coupled with the depth of gratitude you feel, crumbles your resistance. "Thank you," you say, the words barely a whisper, laden with a mix of emotions. "I'll never forget this."

You don’t know what else to say; but as it is, you don’t need to.

As you stand there, on the brink of farewell, Sorrel leans in. His kiss is unexpected but fervently returned as you stand on your toes, arms looping around his wide, plush waist. His lips are firm against yours, nipping at you with a passion that ignites a fire within you, the heat of his touch searing through the cool night air.

The kiss deepens, and for a moment, the world falls away, leaving only the two of you locked together, pulse racing.

As the kiss ends, a lingering warmth remains. You stand there, caught in the afterglow, the night air now charged with longing.

Sorrel's gaze holds yours, a myriad of unspoken words swirling in the depths of his eyes. "This... This was unexpected," he murmurs, the raw honesty in his voice mirroring the vulnerability in his gaze.

You nod, a gentle smile curving your lips despite the ache in your chest. "The best things usually are," you reply, your voice soft, laced with the bittersweet tang of parting.

There's a pause, a moment suspended in time, before you lean in for one final kiss. This one is softer,, a whisper of a goodbye in the brief touch of lips.

With a light-heartedness that feels forced, you step back and offer a playful smile. "Keep in touch, okay?" The words slip out, half in jest, half in hope, even as you understand the impossibility of the request.

Sorrel's smile is tinged with a gentle sadness, an acknowledgment of the unlikelihood of such a promise. "I'll remember this," he says, his voice a low rumble, rich with emotion. "I'll remember you."

You know, from the snippets of his life he's shared, that returning to his clan means stepping away from the world as you know it. The isolation of his people, their disconnection from the modern trappings of communication, almost brings tears to your eyes.

As you part ways, the echo of his final words lingers in your heart. The night wraps around you, and you shudder.

You hope to see him again someday. Somehow, you have the feeling that you will.

#exophilia fiction #exophilia #monster fucker #monster boyfriend #monster romance #monster x reader #tag: mxf #tag: male monster #tag: female reader #tag: sfw #tag: troll #tag: plus size #trying something new bc some people like present tense??#think i'll stick to past tense tbh

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b00kdiary · 9 months ago

Text

Yours | Rhysand

Rhysand X Plus size reader

Y/N meets Rhys in a bar- one month after the worst night of her life. One month after he saved her. But Rhys has no interest in being a hero, and Y/N doesn't want to be a victim. They only want each other.

Warning: Mature themes (18+), swearing, allusions to SA/ r*pe, fluff, angst and smut.

MASTERLIST - 1 and 2

"For Cauldron's sake, Rhys," Cassian laughed, a husky, low sound. It interrupted my hazed thought, dragging me back to this room, with its incandescent lights and booming music. "You've been staring at her like a creep for hours, why don't you just go talk to her?"

I clear my throat, forcing boredom into my face as I roll back the sleeves of my navy shirt. My eyes move to stare at my brothers before me, both of them smirking, a knowing gleam in their dark eyes.

"No idea what you mean, Cass," I drawl, leaning back against the leather seat, my long legs spreading out before me. I curl my fingers around the cold glass on the table, a nonchalant smile tilting my lips as I bring the cup to my mouth and sip.

"No? So, you haven't been staring at the female sitting at the bar all night?" Azriel mused, his brow raised mockingly and the shadows around his shoulders dance with every word, as if amused. "The pretty one with all those lovely curves and the smile that could melt ice?"

My hand clenches around the glass at his words, just for a second, barely even long enough for anyone to notice- but Azriel does, he always does. I shake my head as his eyes twinkle, knowing he was goading me, talking about her to force a reaction from me and like an idiot, I fell for it.

"There are plenty of pretty females here tonight, Az," I counter, lying through my teeth with an easy smile. It takes every ounce of control in me, five hundred years' worth of control, to not look in her direction, to not be drawn back to her lovely form. "Why don't the two of you go bother them and leave me alone?"

Cassian snorts and my eyes narrow at him as he runs a hand over his stubbly jaw, his hazel eyes darkening as he glances at her- sitting at the bar, nursing a glass of wine in one hand while the other moved animatedly as she talked and laughed with her friend.

I felt a smile tug at my lips at the sight, at the bright grin and glowing eyes, that could indeed melt ice.

I can't help but look over her again, taking in her bouncing hair and plump, soft face. I ran my eyes down her body, over the dress that clung and moulded perfectly to every curve and dip and roll of flesh she had been blessed with.

"You're right Rhysand, we should go speak to one of the lovely females here tonight," Cassian nodded and as he began to rise from his seat, his eyes unwavering upon her, Azriel chuckled.

Under any other circumstance, I would have been laughing too, would have been utterly amused by Cassian's teasing, by the banter we always found ourselves in, even five hundred years later. But as he watched her, as that familiar desire lit in his gaze, something in me burned.

"Since you're not going to make a move on her brother, you won't mind if I-"

"Sit down," I breathe, low and sinister, and more than a few eyes turn to me at the vibration of dark power that begins to emanate from me as I glare up at Cassian. He smiles, victorious, and even despite the violence promised in my gaze, he doesn't relent. "Now, Cassian."

I could feel the Fae instinct in me scorching to life, that terrible, violent urge to hurt Cassian- he was my brother, my family, and yet the mere thought of him even looking at her, thinking about her in any way, made me want to tear his throat out.

"Now that we've established, you're a territorial prick and you are interested in her," Cassian beamed, unfazed by the intense and unfathomable power radiating off me, merely sitting back down and cocking his head at me. "Why don't you go talk to her? I've never known you to be shy, Rhys."

"I'm not shy," I bare my teeth at him, tendrils of jealousy and aggression still clawing at my chest. Cass and Az share an amused glance and I grit my teeth, choosing to chug back the remaining alcohol in my glass, before slamming it back onto the table. "I just don't want to make her uncomfortable, she might not want to see me."

"Why would she-" Azriel stops, and as usual, unsurprisingly, he connects the dots faster than anyone else would. Cassian furrows his brow at the contemplative look Azriel gives me. "The female you walked home last month- that's her?"

"The one with the boyfriend Rhys nearly killed?" Cassian scoffed, clearly remembering how furious I had been that night, how it had taken so much restraint and the both of them on guard to stop me from flying out to rip that bastard's head off. "Cauldron, I haven't seen you lose control like that in years."

"He was lucky- if the two of you hadn't stopped me and she hadn't begged me to leave it alone-" I grit my teeth, trying to extinguish the raw, scorching wrath still burning in my chest. My dark eyes turn to look at her, and as I take in her breathtaking smile, my chest tightens with the memory of that night.

The sound of her broken sobs, the way those bright eyes had shattered, filling with endless tears, how she had curled into herself, wilting like a dying flower- all because of him.

"Easy, Rhys, he isn't even here," Cassian cautions and I swallow thickly at the familiar feeling of the beast inside me rearing its head, the kind of violence and danger in me that only arose during the biggest threats, during the worst battles and now, in defence of her. "I've never seen you like this before."

"I know," I sigh, my eyes shut as I pinch the bridge of my nose, the tension in my body almost suffocating as I'm bombarded with the thoughts of that night, with the thoughts of her. "Fuck, I know."

"Go talk to her, Rhys, for your own sake at the very least," Azriel muses softly, and I can hear the unspoken words in his hazel eyes, the kind that told me to be happy, to stop putting everyone first and think of myself. "You never know what could happen, brother."

I inhale deeply, the strength of my brother's stares weighing heavy on me and yet again, my violet gaze drifts over to her and this time I don't ignore the magnetic force that pulls me in.

***

"Another drink, Y/N?" Lin smiles, her slim waist curving as she turns her long legs towards the bar, a sparkle in her eyes as she glances from the bartender back to me. "I know I need another one."

"You don't need to ply me with alcohol, Lin," I muse, cocking my head at her and she shrugs nonchalantly at my knowing smile, an innocent pout gracing her red lips. "I'm having fun, I promise."

"Are you though? It's been a long month and I just-" Lin sighs, her manicured nails coming forward and curling around my hand, settling our hold against one of my plush thighs. I smile at the worry creasing her brow, dimming the radiance in her eyes as she stares at me, "I just want you to be happy, Y/N."

"I am happy, Lin," I scoff, ignoring the ache in my chest, duller than it had been a week ago and yet still an ever-suffocating presence that loomed over me like a dark cloud. "But you know what you could do to make me even happier?"

"Tell me," She leans forward, her lovely face melting into an even lovelier smile, and her hand tightens around mine, an anchor that I'm glad for. "I'll do anything."

"Well, you can go and talk to that ridiculously tall and attractive male who's been ogling you for the last two hours," I drawl sarcastically, taking a pointed sip of my drink as she glances over her shoulder, her blonde hair bouncing as she locks eyes with him. "Don't think I didn't notice the two of you eye fucking from across the room."

She giggles, a purely feminine sound and I smirk at the way the male watches her, his blue eyes darkening into storm clouds, raking down her toned and slender figure like he could see through her clothes and Lin grinned like she knew it.

"But this is meant to be a girl's day, me and you and endless drinking until we're vomiting and regretting it desperately tomorrow," Lin groans and my shoulders sag at the conflict in her eyes- the pity. She didn't want to abandon me, and I hated it.

"I think I've had my fair share of drinks tonight; I'll probably head home soon-" I gnaw on my lip, already seeing the protest in her eyes, but when I raise a brow, glancing at that male again, she sighs, "Go, have wild sex with a hot stranger and then tell me all about it tomorrow."

I can see the anticipation in her body, and I force down the teasing remarks dying to come out as I take a sip of my drink, the burn as it slides down my throat distracting me from my own infinite loneliness.

"Or you could go find a hot male and have some wild sex of your own?" Lin giggles, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively at me but I roll my eyes, slapping her hand and trying to usher her from her seat. "Fine, fine, but are you sure-"

Lin pauses, the words dying out on her lips and under the fluorescent lights her tan skin goes pale, her eyes widening in surprise as she glances, not at me, but past me.

"Hey, are you okay?" I laugh, my brows furrowing as Lin's eyes turn back to me and the smile that tugs at her lips is odd- knowing, giddy almost. "Lin, what-"

"I'm fine, incredible even, and you're about to be too, I think," She bites her lip, giggling as she lifts from her stool and onto her platform heels, her eyes shining like stars as she slowly backs away. "Have fun, Y/N."

"Okay, you too," I say slowly, half-laughing, half-confused as Lin saunters away, her hips swaying as she moves toward that expecting male. His eyes meet hers and the tension goes taut between them. "Don't drink anything he gives you!"

I laugh quietly to myself as I turn away from her, tucking my legs under the bar and shaking my head at her bizarre behaviour- it seemed Lin was more of a lightweight than I thought.

"Hello darling," A smooth, deep voice, like melted chocolate, greets me from behind and my body shivers at the easy sound, "Is this seat taken?"

"No, it's available, this one too I'm just about to leave-" The placated smile on my lips turns to a surprised 'o' as I toss my hair over a shoulder, my bright eyes lifting- and meeting with a constellation of violet.

Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court- and the male who had been there when I was at my lowest.

"High- High Lord," I stutter, my eyes widening and it's as if his presence spurs something deep in my chest and it has me shifting to sit straighter, my head angling up to meet his captivating gaze. "These seats are available-"

"Please, it's Rhys," He smiled, and I smelt the sweet aroma of night-blooming Jasmine and ocean breeze as he pulled out the chair beside me, his long, toned body elegantly taking a seat inches from me.

"Right, Rhys," I breathe softly, remembering how he had said the same thing that night. Though his eyes held more softness now, unlike that night no violence or death was gleaming in them.

"Can I get a bourbon on the rocks," I watch his handsome face glance at the bartender, and I can't help but run my gaze over him- the silken raven locks effortlessly tousled, the strong bridge of his nose, the tilt of his lazy smile, how he leaned back against the chair, his powerful form at ease.

"And another of what the lovely lady beside me is having."

My eyes snap back up to his at the words, and my cheeks burn at the sparkle in his eyes. The kind that told me he knew I was looking over every inch of him, and that I, like most females, liked what I saw.

"You'll stick around for one drink, I hope?" He questions, and my heart pounded in my chest as he leaned closer, his legs brushing mine and I felt the electricity of his touch lance through my entire body. "I could do with the company, darling."

Darling. The nickname made my stomach flip, the way it rolled off his tongue made it sound so erotic, sensual like he knew he could pleasure a female with just his words.

"One drink," I nod, swallowing thickly as the bartender places Rhysand's glass of Bourbon and my wine before us with a soft clink. "I suppose it's the least I owe you."

"You don't owe me anything, I hope you know that" His voice softens, his eyes do too, and I know he's picturing me as I was that night. Crying. Shaking. A mess. His throat bobs, ringed finger tracing the rim of his untouched glass.

"I know, but I want to," I manage a small smile and the heat of his eyes on me, I feel it over every inch of my skin. Not purely sexual but seeing, like he couldn't take his eyes off me. "I didn't get a chance to thank you for what you did that night, I really am grateful for you helping me-"

"Please don't," Rhysand frowns, and his body is stiff now. All the warmth, all the teasing, has vanished from his eyes. Replaced by one thing- sadness. "Don't make me out to be some kind of hero for that night, Y/N. Anyone would have done the same-"

"And yet you were the only one who intervened," I scoffed, and his face tightened. The violet turned dark like midnight. "So many people passed us, so many people saw him grabbing me, heard how he was speaking to me. They saw me crying, heard me say no-"

My back hit the wall. Arms caged me in.

'You're nothing but a worthless fucking slut.'

'No, no, please, don't,' I felt the side of my dress tear open, the cold wind prickling my skin.

'A fat bitch who never listens,' I could taste metal in my mouth, his hand clamped down on my jaw, pinning me down. 'A fucking tease, wearing this dress and then telling me no when I want to touch what's mine.'

'Please, you're hurting me,' He laughed as I sobbed, groping along my body, the smell of alcohol on his breath making bile rise up my throat.

I heard the sound of a belt unbuckling.

'Someone please help me.'

"Y/N," His voice was hoarse as he spoke my name, pained. And when he laid one of his large, ringed hands against my knee, fingers curling around my flesh, I released a tight, desperate breath.

"You saved me that night, you and no one else," I blinked away the burning tears and locked my gaze with his. Power thrummed from him in waves, and the shadows in his eyes told me he remembered that night as well as I did, that it haunted him too.

"Perhaps you're too humble to think so," I cleared the lump in my throat, throwing Rhysand a teasing smile, or as much of one as I could manage. "But as far as I am concerned you were my hero that night, Rhys."

"I don't think humble is the word my family would use to describe me, darling," Rhys's lip quirked, and I knew he slipped into a mask of charm and playfulness for my sake. It made the ache in my chest ease. "I think the words they would use are more along the lines of arrogant, cocky, smug-"

"Charming, charismatic, flirtatious," I continued with a sly grin, and as I brought my glass to my mouth, Rhysand watched every movement keenly, shadows eclipsing his eyes as my lips parted and I sipped. "Clever, witty, swaggering."

"Careful, darling," His eyes flashed when my tongue flicked out to collect the droplets of wine off my bottom lip and I nearly purred when his fingers curled around my knee tighter. "You're inflating my already massive ego."

"I'm not done," I mutter softly, setting the glass before me again. Rhysand raises a brow, and his chest is rising and falling so harshly now. "Alluring. Gorgeous. Seductive."

His eyes twinkled like a thousand stars bursting to life and I knew he could hear how my heart was thundering in my chest.

"I fear you've got us confused," He breathed, and my entire body felt alight as he swooped his thumb back and forth against my thigh, his touch so consuming it was as if he were touching my bare skin. His lip quirked as if he knew it. "Those are words that describe you, not me."

I scoffed out a laugh, rolling my eyes but I couldn't deny the way his words made me feel. The way he made me feel. Tracing over my bright eyes and beaming smile, down my neck and chest, across my stomach and hips and thighs, his power thrummed as he took me in.

"Did you come here alone tonight?" I angled my head at him, feeling hot under his stare. Again, his thumb didn't stop soothing against me, so soft I was starting to get dizzy.

"I came with Cassian and Azriel," Rhysand nodded over his shoulder, "It was actually them who encouraged me to come speak to you."

"Encouraged you?" I raised a brow, surprised and the chuckle that escaped him ran over my skin. "What happened to arrogant, cocky, smug Rhysand?"

"Apparently as Cassian put it, I became the creep who was staring relentlessly at a beautiful female for hours," Rhys drawled, and a surprised laugh burst from me at his words. He rolled his violet eyes, but I swear under these lights, I could see a tint of red staining his cheeks.

The High Lord of the Night Court.

The most powerful High Lord in existence.

Blushing.

"You're laughing at me?" Rhysand cocked a brow, hand coming to his chest in faux offence, " I've been mocked by my brothers and now by the female, I like. I'm wounded darling, truly."

The female I like.

Cauldron.

"Poor High Lord," I pouted, my delicate hand coming down and resting over his at my knee. I shivered at the feeling of his skin against mine, and his eyes flashed down to where we touched. "It seems you can't catch a break tonight."

"Oh, I wouldn't say it's been a total loss," He mused lowly, his eyes lingered on our hands, on how much smaller mine was compared to his before they lifted to meet my gaze. Shadows and stars. Utterly consuming. "I'm here with you, aren't I?"

"And I'm here with you," I smiled, and it was the most genuine smile I've had in a while. Rhysand's eyes softened as if he knew it too. As if he could feel my content right now as strongly as I could.

But it wasn't just content. As I stared at him, at this beautiful, powerful, captivating male before me, I couldn't deny the ache that spread through my core. Couldn't ignore how just his hand at my knee made my thighs clench.

His eyes fell to where my legs clamped shut and something wholly dark filled his gaze, something that made it impossible to hide my arousal. His throat worked, and I knew he could smell exactly what my body wanted.

"Would Cassian and Azriel mind if I stole you for the night?" I asked, soft, breathless, I couldn't get the words louder than a whisper. Because I was afraid- of rejection, of embarrassment, of saying it aloud.

But he heard me. I knew he did.

I saw the muscles in his thighs tense, his whole body turning hard as stone. Even that hand at my thigh seemed to turn stiff. His eyes met mine, his mouth parting- and then closing. Like he didn't know what to say.

"Oh," I forced out a strained laugh, humiliation burning through me as I sat up, pulling my thigh from Rhysand's hold and frantically looking anywhere but at him. "It seems I've read this whole situation wrong."

He didn't want me.

He was just being kind.

He was just trying to make sure I was okay.

Of course, he didn't want me.

"No, no, don't-" His voice was sure, strong. As I reached to grab my purse, his hand curled around my wrist, gentle but firm, keeping me sat where I was. I clamped my eyes shut, twisting my face so that I did not have to face him. "You did not read this wrong at all, not at all Y/N."

"Rhysand, it's alright," I mumbled, trying to pull my hand free from his hold, but he wouldn't relent. I heard his body shift until his thighs were pressed to mine and I knew he was inched from me. "You don't have to say anything, I understand-"

"No, you don't darling," He snarled softly, and my body shook when his hand came to my chin and turned my face to his. I blinked, barely breathing as I met his burning violet eyes so close to mine. "I can hear those thoughts running through your mind right now. Stop, stop and don't even dare think that for a second again."

His thumb brushed my cheek, and I couldn't breathe with how close he was to me. So close I could smell the bourbon and mint with every breath against my mouth, so close I could count the stars in his eyes.

"I would like nothing more than for you to steal me away tonight, to steal me away every night," He admitted, his voice stern and commanding. "Some very selfish, greedy, dark part of me has been staring at you all night picturing exactly that. Picturing just how we would spend those hours."

Low, sultry words that made my heart race.

"But?" I whispered, my voice shaking. My whole body was shaking now.

"But I do not want you to see me as a hero, to see me as some kind of saviour," His words were unsteady, pained and I hated the frown that tilted his lips. wanted to soothe out the furrow in his brow. "I don't want you to think you owe me this. I want you to want to."

I swallowed and melted into the touch, the callouses of his fingers at my face making me sigh. My hand curled around his wrist, strong and sure, and I met his eyes with certainty.

"I do want to," I said, louder this time, "You do not want to be a hero, fine. But I do not want to be a victim, Rhys. Don't try and make me one."

Surprise flashed in his eyes. And something else. Something akin to fire, like my words lit a blaze in him.

"Cassian and Azriel definitely will not mind you stealing me away tonight," He rasped, voice like gravel and my body shivered at the smirk he gave me. "Let me grab your purse for you, darling."

***

Walking back to my apartment with Rhys, it was hard not to remember that night.

How different it had been.

How I had been shaking and crying, wrapped in a blanket to cover the exposed skin revealed under the tatters of my dress. How Rhysand had been violently still, his eyes so black it was as if a void had sucked away all the stars in them.

And how that awful, pulsing black magic had coiled around his hands. The same black magic that had wrapped around that male's throat, that had ripped him off of me, dropped him to his knees and squeezed the air from his lungs until he turned purple.

I remember seeing Rhysand appear in a cloud of black smoke, looking like death itself.

My head spun with how he had looked at me as he guided me home, walking trembling step after step, and something so pained, so agonised had filled his gaze. I knew it was me and me alone that kept him from killing that male, it was his need to take care of me first that had quelled the unparalleled desire he had to destroy him.

And now, a whole month later, as we walked under the sheet of stars and moonlight above, I couldn't help how my stomach coiled, a mixture of nerves and excitement dancing through me.

"I'm sure it's not the kind of luxury you're used to," I smiled, turning the handle of my front door, and pushing it open to reveal the dark expanse beyond. "But this is it. Home."

The Fae lights in my living room flickered on, dousing the small space. I stepped inside, Rhysand's tall form ducking under my doorway as he entered. I couldn't help but glance to and from his face as I locked the door behind us, watching him take in my home.

It felt intimate somehow. Him being here.

"It's lovely," Rhys smiled, violet eyes bright as he took in the simple leather couch and oak table, the shelves full of books and ornaments. He glanced forward, to the kitchen attacked to the side, drink bottles littering the island.

"I don't really bring people back here, males I mean," I laughed awkwardly, my stilettos clicking against the floor as I led Rhys further into my house. "My roommate, Lin, usually has people, males and females alike over all the time."

"I'm honoured to be here, then," I stopped at the kitchen island, dropping my purse on the table. My eyes met his, saw them darken as a smirk lined his lips "And selfishly, I'm glad that you don't bring males back here."

"Why?" I breathed, my chest rising and falling in waves as he inched closer to me. Stopping close enough that my taut nipples brushed his hard chest. "Feeling possessive? I didn't think High Lord Rhysand was the jealous type."

"Oh darling, I am the jealous type. The possessive type too," He murmured, and my eyes fluttered when his hands fell to my hips, pulling me flush to his chest and kneading the flesh there. "Because when you're mine, you're only mine."

"And am I?" I tilted my head to meet his eyes and the look in my gaze made his fingers tighten at my hips. "Yours?"

"Yes, if you would like to be," His voice turned quiet, sincere. I smiled at it, at the softness in his eyes. "I would like you to be."

"I would like to be too," My hand came up and cupped his strong jaw, loving how he melted into the touch. "Especially tonight. Kiss me Rhys."

He groans like I'm going to be the death of him. And then his head is dipping, and those sweet, pink lips collide with mine.

Cauldron, I knew he could kiss. But this was better than I could have hoped for.

My back hits the island as Rhys claims me, lips moving slow and steady against mine, strong hands keeping me in place. My mind spins as he kisses me, working me through every lap of his tongue teasing mine, one hand moving to tilt my chin, before resting at my throat.

The marble at my back digs painfully, but I don't care, not as Rhys slips his tongue past my lips, wet and hot and exploring. He groans at the taste of wine in my mouth, and my pussy clenches around nothing at the heady sound.

"Rhys," I whimper at the feeling of his long, hard cock straining in his pants, and pulsing against my stomach. He kisses and nips at my jaw, and I can't help but rub against him, loving how he shudders.

"Darling, I suggest you stop doing that," He snarls softly, canines scraping my neck and his hands clamp down, halting my movement. "Unless you want me to bend you over this island and fuck you raw right now."

I moan at his filthy words, back arching when his hands shift down to cup and fondle my ass. He laughs, sinister and low, violet eyes flashing to mine and brightening.

"Dirty girl, you'd like that wouldn't you?" He muses, smirking as he kneads my ass, rings digging into me. "Perhaps another night. Tonight though, I'd prefer to be a gentleman and take you for the first time on a bed."

"I happen to have a great bed," I whisper, my hands on his chest, pushing at the corded muscle. He chuckles again, mocking me, but he does relent, pulling me along with him. "First door on the right."

"First you let me into your home, now your bedroom," Rhysand smirks at me over his shoulder, his large hand interlaced with my small one. My stomach tilts and whirls as he pushes open my door. "It must be my lucky night."

"Arrogant, cocky, and smug indeed," I roll my eyes, seeing his smile brighten when the lights in my room flicker to life. Before I knew it, we were inside, the door closed and locked behind us. Alone.

He must sense my unease because he turns on his heel, his face serene as he glances over my small room. The double-sized bed, the pink cotton sheets, the small dresser and cabinet and more shelves stuffed full of books.

"You like to read?" He muses, walking over to the bookshelves and running a long, slender finger across their spines. My breasts ached at the thought of him touching me with those hands. His eyes peered over a shoulder at me- dark like he had heard that thought.

"Yes," I managed to say, throat dry as I fiddled with my thumbs. "I was big on fairy tales as I kid. Now I like more... adult stuff."

"Adult?" Rhysand's brow rose and every inch of me was molten as he turned around to face me, leaning against my draw with his arms tucked into his slacks and his powerful body at ease. "Adult-like romance or adult-like females being pleasured six ways to Sunday?"

I burst out laughing at that and Rhysand's smile grew, broad and lovely at the sound. He made it so easy to be around him, made it so easy that the anxiety in my chest faded into nothing.

"The second," I said quietly, and the air turned still as I moved toward him, taking step after slow step. "Though I'm yet to experience it myself. Being pleasured six ways to Sunday as you so eloquently put it."

I stop before him. I place one hand on his hard chest, feeling his heart racing under my palms. And then I glance up, fluttering my dark lashes and praying this looks sexy and not creepy.

Again, he laughs.

"Allow me to remedy that for you, darling," He grins and when his hand cups my jaw, I let myself go slack against him. His lips against mine are heaven, I could kiss this male for the rest of my fucking life. He kissed me back like he shared that sentiment.

I stumble back with him, our teeth clashing and lips bruising as we kiss and my hands touch him everywhere- through his dark, silken hair tugging at the roots, scratching down his neck and broad shoulders, feeling his muscles ripple under my fingers as I claw at him.

My legs bump against the bed but instead of pushing me down, his hands move to my dress. To the ties at the back. He pauses, panting as he pulls his lips from mine. I groan at the loss of contact, nibbling on his teeth as he draws away. But he peers at me, and I can see all the questions in his eyes.

For a second, I feel different hands touch me. Vile and degrading and horrible, all over my body. I smell bitter alcohol, invading my senses, and it's almost as if I can feel the wind piercing through the rips in my dress just like it did that night.

But then I blink. And It's Rhys again. With that lovely smile and those kind eyes. With those exploring, gentle hands and those lips that taste like sin. It's Rhys. And he wants me.

"May I?" He mutters, brushing his lips across mine in the barest kiss. I sigh when his fingers rest on the knots at the back. If I gave him the word to stop, he would, no questions asked. That was exactly why I didn't want him to stop.

"Yes," I said, and my voice did not so much as shake. I met his eyes and showed him how I felt, how badly I wanted him and nodded again. "Yes, please."

Rhys smiled and his eyes never left mine as he tugged the strings at the back of my dress, something akin to adoration blazing in his eyes as it all came loose. I braced myself as his gentle hands tugged down the material, letting it fall down my body and to the floor.

I was in nothing but my underwear now.

Rhys didn't look down. His eyes stayed on me. My throat bobbed, but I nodded to him again.

It was palpable, the shift in his eyes the second they lowered from my face. Down, down, down. Over my bare aching breasts, over my perked nipples, across my stomach and hips, over all the fat there, and down my thighs, dipping between them as I clenched them shut.

Desire. I felt it vibrating off him in waves. Like he truly thought I was beautiful.

"I hate the doubt in your eyes right now, in your mind," He said softly, and my body shivered when he trailed one finger across my collarbone, and down my chest. "I hate that you can't see how perfect you are, how fucking perfect your body is."

I shivered as he traced his fingers over my taut nipple, a moan slipping past my lips at the feel of his callouses against me.

“It’s not easy for me to feel like that,” I whispered, my voice shaking as he cupped my breasts, pinching the nipple and letting the weight and feel of them fill his hands. “But it’s easier right now. With you, it’s easier to believe.”

Something shifted in Rhysand’s eyes at my words. It was almost emotional, like what I said meant more to him than I could ever know. I lifted onto my tiptoes and pressed a slow, exploring kiss against his lips. It was the kind that I had read about books, that I had dreamed about, his lips moved against mine and felt right.

His hands are sure as he guides me down to sit on the bed and not for a moment does he break his lips free from mine. Rhysand’s hands explore my body, kneading my flesh as he kisses and suckles down my neck, my moans mixing with the wet sound of his mouth against my skin.

I’m not sure I’m breathing as he runs his hands along my hips and thighs, mouth smearing spit and scraping teeth against my breasts. His fingers hook under my underwear and within seconds it’s tugged down my legs and tossed to the floor.

I flutter open my eyes and something molten spreads through me.

Because Rhysand was on his knees before me. And it’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.

“Do you like me this, darling?” He muses, purely male satisfaction on his face as he drags my supple thighs apart. His eyes drop between my legs, to the swollen wetness there and he moans. “High Lord of the Night Court, bowed before the prettiest cunt he’s ever seen.”

I feel like I might climax just from his words. Just from how fucking feral he looks as he takes in my wetness, his hands at my thighs bruising as he keeps my legs apart.

I rest back on my hands, my arms shaking as Rhysand’s smug face inches closer and closer to the apex of my thighs, the violet in his gaze almost as dark as midnight as my arousal fills the air. I’m burning hot, everywhere and the anticipation is killing me.

But mercifully Rhys is no tease. He doesn’t have the patience for it tonight.

“Rhys,” I moan, my toes curling when his head dips between my thighs and he licked a broad stroke up the length of my cunt. Taking all the wetness from my entrance and smearing it up to my swollen clit. He does it again, growling, and I can hear how wet I am.

“Relax, darling,” Rhys murmurs and I gasp in surprise when his hands hook under my thighs, tugging me to the edge of the bed- and then he goes feral.

“Cauldron, oh my- Rhys,” My body is shaking as Rhys tastes me, his tongue flicking over my bundle of nerves again and again, so hard and fast I can feel the pleasure down to my toes. He groans as he does so, the sound vibrating through my core and making my head spin.

My eyes close, my arms give out and I’m lying on my back, arching against my sheets, Rhys holding my thighs and hips like a boulder. He doesn’t relent even as my cries grow erratic, his tongue slipping down to fuck into my hole, hot and warm and knowing exactly what he’s doing.

One finger slips in. and then another. And another.

Three fingers and I’m clamped around him like a vice, his fingers fucking into me, his tongue suckling at my clit, my moans, his moans- it was dancing through the room like a symphony. It feels like minutes before that pit in me starts to grow and I know I won’t last long; I don’t want to last long.

“Rhys, please-“ I don’t know what I’m begging for. But he does, he knows what I need. Because his lips close around my clit and those long, graceful fingers curl up into a deep, spongey spot inside me, hitting a button that makes me scream.

Searing hot light burns through me and I can feel Rhys grinning against my cunt as my orgasm hits me, unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. I cry his name again and again, my body on fire as he buries his fingers inside me, still sucking and nibbling on my clit. Dragging out every last inch of my climax.

“Rhys, Rhys-“

He chuckles, like a smug bastard, lips plucking back from my swollen clit and those three fingers slipping out of my pulsing hole. I shudder, sweat coating my skin and when he finally unhooks his arms from my legs, I sag to the bed, panting.

My eyes are closed and all I can do is catch my breath as tendrils of my orgasm coil through me, disappearing inch by inch.

The bed dips around me and I feel the familiar power and warmth as Rhysand ascends over me, two hands braced on either side of my head, my thighs wrapping around his waist. I blink my eyes open, seeing a constellation above, and the sweetest smile.

“Hello, darling,” Rhys smirks and I chuckle as I take in the pleased expression he wore, loving me so strung. He lifts one hand, brushing the damp hair from my face and I croon when he runs the pad of his thumb over my mouth. “Do you want to stop?”

“No,” I say immediately. Something almost terrifying drapes across his face as I take his thumb past my lips and into my mouth, twirling my tongue around the digit and staring into his eyes. He plucks it free, looking like he could devour me. “I don’t want to stop.”

“Alluring. Gorgeous. Seductive.” Rhys muttered, voice like gravel and my entire body purred when he knelt back on my bed and began to undo his shirt. “Definitely the words to describe you, Y/N darling.”

I stay silent as I watch him easily undo one button at a time, the graceful movements of his fingers almost sensual as more and more skin, covered with dark whorls is revealed to me. I’m breathless as he tugs off the material throwing it off the bed, captivated by the lean, hard muscle, and the slender dip of a v-line at his waist.

He grins down at me as my hands come up to his chest, muscles flexing as I claw down his pecs, teasing his nipples, scratching his abs, tracing the faint dusting of hair all the way down to his slacks. His eyes burn into me as I fiddle with the ties, tugging the front of his slacks loose to free his length straining inside.

I undo the last button and my pussy clenches as his cock springs free, slapping back against his stomach. It’s the prettiest cock I’ve ever seen. Long and thick, veined and tan, small beads of pre-cum slipping down the head and dropping onto my thigh.

Not sure I’ve ever had a female tell me my cock is pretty before, darling.

The sound echoes through my mind and I jolt at it, surprised. My eyes meet his, see them twinkling and every atom in me throbs when his hands wrap around his length, and he pumps himself. I whimper, his eyes on mine watching me fall apart at the sight of touching himself.

Fuck me, Rhys.

I send the thought out to him through my mind, not knowing how it works but hoping he would get the message anyway. He did- I could tell just by how hard he fisted himself now, his pre-cum spilling down his hand as he stroked up and down.

You need it, darling? Need me? He teased through my mind, so arrogant it made me scowl at him.

Yes, asshole. I hissed, and he laughed aloud, eyes bright with amusement. I need you, fuck me, please.

He groans and I’m grinning as he leans forward, bracing his palms on either side of me, his powerful body atop of me now. I felt small under him, felt like I was completely at his mercy and that feeling seemed to make me even more wet.

“Wrap your leg around my hip, darling,” Rhys said softly, and I was more than eager when he guided my thigh up, wrapping it around him, fingers splaying over my flesh. “Wanna get as deep as I can into this sweet pussy.”

“Rhys,” I whined, my eyes fluttering as he dragged his tip through my folds, the pressure against my swollen lips and sore clit making me feel like I might explode. “Rhys- please-“

He slips his tip into me. And my eyes roll as he sinks and sinks and sinks into me. Inch after perfect inch. Stretching me so fucking wide that my head starts to spin. He stops when his hips meet mine, maxing out and I swear I feel the shape of him imprinted against my stomach.

“Fuck, you’re wrapped around me so tight,” Rhys curses and his fingers tighten around my flesh. I tilt my neck up when his lips meet mine, desperate and needy for the feel of him, the taste of him, as the pain between my legs slowly eases to mild discomfort.

“Move Rhys,” I claw up his chest and shoulders, burying my fingers in his hair.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” He mutters, groaning as he slowly pulls his length out, my wetness making it so easy for him to move. I moan at the tendrils of pleasure that spark through me as he drags himself out and then in, again and again, barely moving.

“I can handle it, Rhys,” I force his eyes to meet mine and I know he’s holding himself back. For my sake. I roll my hips, and the moan that escapes him as he slips in deeper makes my toes curl. “Move, Rhys.”

Rhys snarls low in his throat. And then he pulls out to the tip before shoving his cock inside me in one full stroke until his hips slam against mine. I cry out and it’s almost euphoric how good it feels.

“That’s it,” He praises, jaw clenched and muscles hard as stone as he rolls his hips into me, hard and fast, tip brushing against my walls in a way that makes me endlessly moan. “Feel how good you fit around me, darling.”

I whine at the filthy words he snarls into my ear, canines nibbling at my earlobe as he fucks in and out of me. He lifts my leg higher up his waist and our moans sync when he sinks into me, so far, I can feel him hitting the back of me.

“Oh Rhys,” I cry his name again and again, his cock inside me feeling so full, every stroke stealing the breath from my lungs.

He ruts his hips up to meet me, the sound of him fucking in and out of me, so wild and demanding, is like music in the room, mixing with our moans, our low curses, and the way our hands wander over each other, unable to get enough.

“Look at me, Y/N,” Rhys commands, and I gasp, eyes fluttering open when his hand clamps around my jaw, tilting my neck to meet him. I see the darkness and depravity and need burning like fire through his eyes. Watching my face twist, my eyes roll as he fucks me, skin slapping skin.

“I’m so close, Rhys-“ I babble, back arching and my hand curls around his wrist still holding my jaw. My insides feel like mush as he hits that button inside me again and again. “I’m so fucking close.”

“Yeah? You gonna come, darling?” He taunts, and I nearly start sobbing when his hand moves from my thigh, between our bodies and starts rubbing erratically at my clit. He laughs, like he fucking loves it, loves seeing me fall apart, “That’s it, come for your High Lord. Wanna feel you milk me dry.”

There’s something so commanding, so burning and domineering in his words, in those star-flecked eyes that when he dives his hips into me again, when his thumb flicks at my clit, my entire body erupts with my orgasm.

“Rhys, Rhys, Rhys-“

I cry out, black dots blurring my vision and my body bucking and writhing against his hard muscles as release ripples over me like a tidal wave. Rhysand grunts as I clench around him, suffocating his cock inside me, the orgasm hitting me and lasting longer than I’ve ever had.

“Just like that,” He pants, and I feel his movements become sloppier, more erratic, more careless, driven to the edge by me coming around him.

My body trembles with the aftermath of my orgasm, edged on by the way Rhys still moved in and out of me, chasing his own high. And when his forehead rests against mine and he groans, guttural and heady and low, I know he’s found it.

My eyes blink open, desperate to watch him fall apart. And it doesn’t disappoint.

I watch, breathless, as Rhysand tips his head back, exposing the strong column of his throat and the sound that escapes him, the guttural moan, as he stills inside me has the walls of my room shaking. Pure, unfiltered power radiates from him and my pussy throbs as he spills inside me, hot and wet and endless.

I can’t tear my eyes off him as his orgasm fades and I’m smiling as he sags against my body, the both of us sweating and panting, melting into the other’s embrace.

He stays seated inside me and wraps his arms around my body, sinking into my warmth and softness and looking more than content. He sighs, pressing a kiss to my lips, once, twice, a smile curling his lips when I giggle.

“Darling,” Rhys whispers, his eyes tender as he lifts onto his elbow to meet my stare, “I meant what I said before. I want you to be mine. And not just tonight.”

There’s an ache behind my eyes as he stares at me, looking at me with so much adoration, so much love that I feel like he’s wrapped a hand around my heart and squeezed.

“I want that too,” I whisper back, cupping his jaw. He presses a kiss to the inside of my palm, grinning.

“As a gentleman, I should ask then,” He teases, inching his face closer to mine and resting his forehead against me. “Will you go out with me?”

I snort, eyes creasing as I laugh and Rhys beams at me, peppering kisses at my jaw and lips as I giggle.

“Yes, Rhys,” I say softly, drowning in those wonderful, tender, violet eyes. “I would love to go out with you.”

__________________________________________________

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chilopodafic · 2 months ago

Text

Dolls, pt 1.

CW: Psychological abuse, gaslighting, brainwashing, dubcon, masochism

They'd run the full gamut of pharmaceutical interventions over the years - from SSRIs and benzos to the latest miracle nootropics fresh off the clinical trial pipeline. Nothing seemed to touch that crushing, pervasive sense of dread that clouded their thoughts and sapped all motivation from their days.

Maybe this whole hypnotherapy thing was just another dead end. But at this point, Alex was desperate enough to try just about anything if it meant clawing their way back towards some semblance of inner peace.

commissioned by @soldierexclipse

The waiting room was a study in muted grays and soft, organic curves - more akin to the interior of some alien seed pod than a clinical space. Cushy biomorphic chairs moulded themselves to the contours of Alex's body as they settled into their gentle embrace, fingers toying with the frayed hem of their tattered Nine Inch Nails shirt. A muffled rhythmic thrumming pulsed through the spongy floor beneath their feet, mixing abruptly with ambient new age music piped in over hidden speakers and calming white noise.

Alex shifted uncomfortably, the plush surroundings doing little to ease the tightness coiling in their chest. Every inhalation felt leaden, each breath drawn through lungs constricted by the ever-present specter of anxiety clawing at their ribs. They'd run the full gamut of pharmaceutical interventions over the years - from SSRIs and benzos to the latest miracle nootropics fresh off the clinical trial pipeline. Nothing seemed to touch that crushing, pervasive sense of dread that clouded their thoughts and sapped all motivation from their days.

Maybe this whole hypnotherapy thing was just another dead end. Some wellness culture snake oil, repackaged and dressed up in the superficial trappings of legitimacy to seem more palatable than some guy in a bad toupee dangling a pocketwatch. But at this point, Alex was desperate enough to try just about anything if it meant clawing their way back towards some semblance of inner peace.

A soft chime sounded from the oak-paneled door across the waiting room, and it slid aside with a quiet hiss-slide and a grunt of exertion to reveal a woman in a smart charcoal pantsuit who regarded Alex with a warm, impersonal smile, sitting comfortably in a strange, almost tiny looking wheelchair. Not one of the medical ones Alex had seen before with his parents, designed for being pushed. "Alex Gale?" Her tone was rich and unhurried, the crisp articulation of someone who placed a great deal of emphasis on the weight of each spoken word.

Alex gave a hesitant half-nod, already feeling a hot flush of self-consciousness as the woman's keen, dark-eyed gaze raked over their swollen-feeling frame. Her expression remained neutral, though - giving no outward sign of judgment as she gestured through the open doorway. "Doctor Cohen - but please, call me Lily. Right this way."

The treatment room was even more warmly intimate than the waiting area, all soft, amorphous shapes and diffuse lighting that cast everything in a gentle, womblike ambience. A surprisingly normal leather recliner took up the center of the room, the kind you'd see in a lavish home theater setup or man-cave, while the doctor's own seat was a sleek, shiny black contraption that seemed far more suited to her diminutive stature.

"Make yourself comfortable," Lily intoned in that same smooth, unhurried cadence as she closed the door behind them and glided over to a wall-mounted control panel - a row of soft multicoloured lights flickering to life at her touch. The ambient music and thrumming shifted to a lower register, joined by a soft, susurrant hiss of air ionizers that Alex hadn't noticed until now. His nostrils flared at the subtle tang of ozone mingling with the aroma of some unfamiliar blend of essential oils as the air became faintly misty with a cool, moisturizing vapor.

Alex settled back into the plush embrace of the oversized recliner as Lily finished manipulating the control suite, their eyelids already growing heavy as the atmosphere took on a languid, almost narcotic quality. Then she turned back towards them with a gentle smile, wheeling closer until her hands rested neatly in her lap and their eyes were on an even plane.

"Now then," she began, voice lowering to an almost conspiratorial murmur, "I'm sure this must all feel a bit strange and new. But please, don't let appearances deceive you - I run an extremely pragmatic practice. No mystic hooey or new age theatrics." She laughed softly at that, dark eyes sparkling with good-natured humor. "Merely a few creature comforts to help put the mind at ease for the work ahead."

Her fingers steepled before her, cradling her chin in a gesture of quiet contemplation. "Tell me Alex, what is it you know - or think you know - about hypnosis, and how it works?" Another warm smile curved her lips, no hint of condescension or judgment in the query.

Alex took a breath, stalling for time as their thoughts swirled in a slow, lazy eddy. What did they know about hypnosis, really? Other than the obvious pop culture tropes and cliches - the kind of old-timey theatrical bullshit Lily had just taken great pains to distance herself from. But there had to be more to it than that, right? For it to be taken seriously enough as a therapeutic modality for some medical professionals to stake their entire careers upon it…

"I… I dunno, not that much I guess?" They shrugged, giving an awkward little self-deprecating laugh. "I've seen people do the whole focus-on-the-swinging-thing, but that always seemed more like a magic trick than anything real. It can't actually make you do things against your will or plant false memories or whatever, right? Just kind of… helps focus your mind and relax?"

Lily gave a slow, considering nod, seeming to mull over the response for a long, pensive moment before responding. "Well, you're not entirely wrong. There is a bit more to it than simple trickery, though our media tends to indulge in a great deal of exaggeration and myth-making." She tilted her head slightly, thick curls of dark hair shifting over one shoulder.

"Simply put, hypnosis is a naturally-occurring state of consciousness that all of us slip into from time to time - when we're lost in thought, or engage in certain repetitive tasks. It's a trance-like state of hyper-focus accompanied by a suspension of peripheral awareness. I simply provide a framework and guidance to ease people into that state in a safe, directed manner."

Her hands unlaced, one palm drifting down to caress the plush armrest of her chair as she continued in that same unhurried tone. "When under hypnosis, the conscious mind takes more of a backseat while the subconscious becomes more accessible and open to… let's call them suggestions. It heightens imagination and focus while suspending the usual critical inner voice that might dismiss certain ideas or sensations out of hand."

She canted her head towards Alex, eyes glittering with an almost impish glint. "And to lay one particular myth to rest right up front - while hypnosis canNOT compel someone to commit acts that go against their core values or will, it can absolutely open them up to things they might otherwise be closed off to or judgmental about in their normal waking state. Especially when those things lie in a person's shadow - those unconscious desires and impulses they might not even be consciously aware of."

Lily gave a blithe shrug of her square shoulders. "In a sense, it's like a form of guided self-exploration, shedding away the layers of artifice we accumulate - all those self-imposed barriers and inhibiting thought patterns we construct around ourselves. But I'm getting rather ahead of things." Another warm smile curved her lips as she made a placating gesture with one small hand. "Please, do feel free to ask any other questions you might have - I always make a point of ensuring my clients have a solid understanding of the process before we begin."

Alex nodded slowly, chewing their plump lower lip as they took a moment to process it all. "S-so…" they began haltingly, already feeling the warm lethargy of the treatment room's aura tugging at them. "I-it can't like… unlock hidden memories or anything, right? Cause I've heard some people freaking out about hypnotherapy being used to recover repressed memories of being abducted by aliens or… or Satanic rituals or whatever."

A soft, mirthless chuckle escaped the doctor's lips as she shook her head in a bemused fashion. "Heavens no, nothing of the sort. Those are just pernicious urban legends borne of credulous minds and vivid imaginations during the Satanic Panic era, I'm afraid. No, we can't recover memories that simply aren't there - and anything a client experiences under hypnosis is drawn directly from their own mind. Their subconscious may weave some rather creative metaphors or symbolic representations, but it's all ultimately self-generated."

Her hands folded in her lap once more as she wheeled an inch or two further away. "What hypnosis can do is help process and metabolize past traumas through a sort of… waking dream state, I suppose you could call it. Remove some of the sting and raw emotion from painful memories and experiences, and help you view them from a more detached, outside perspective." Those broad shoulders lifted in another languid shrug. "But no unlocking Pandora's box of repressed horrors, I can assure you."

Alex chewed the inside of their cheek, feeling an odd sense of relief at those words despite their lingering skepticism. "So… kinda like lucid dreaming then? Or… or a waking trance state? You're sorta guiding me to look at things from a different angle, but I'm not blacking out or anything?"

Lily smiled and nodded, clearly pleased that Alex was grasping the core concepts. "Yes, precisely - it's a hyperfocused yet expansive state of consciousness, like viewing the world through a different lens while being fully present and retaining your own agency and self-awareness. And of course, anything we do will be at your own pace and with your full consent at every step of the way."

She leaned in slightly, voice lowering to a more conspiratorial murmur as her eyes bored into Alex's with quiet intensity. "No 'unlocking Pandora's boxes' as you put it - just a safe, comfortable space where you can explore your own inner world and experiences without judgment or fear. My role is simply as a guide, helping to facilitate that journey of self-discovery and provide the framework for change."

Alex met Lily's gaze for a long, silent moment, their own eyes slightly glazed as the atmosphere of the room and the doctor's words washed over them in languid waves. Somewhere in the back of their mind, a tiny niggling voice warned them not to be too trusting - that this polished professional persona might simply be a facade, concealing some darker agenda. But the rest of Alex's being was already lost in the gentle lull of the treatment room, suspended in that liminal space between wakefulness and sleep.

Another smile curved Lily's full lips as she watched the subtle shift in Alex's demeanor with the keen eyes of a seasoned observer. She'd seen that look countless times before - that subtle transition from guarded skepticism to a sort of open, receptive vulnerability. Like a veil being slowly drawn aside, leaving them pliant and malleable, ready for the true work to begin.

She gave a barely perceptible nod, as if confirming something to herself. Then she drew back, rolling her chair a few feet until her legs were tucked securely beneath the recliner, hands resting on the plush armrests as she assumed a posture of open, relaxed attentiveness.

"Well then," she murmured, voice slipping into a lower, slower register that Alex could feel resonating through their very bones. "Since you seem to understand the core tenets, shall we get started with a bit of guided relaxation first? Just to ease you into the right headspace and give you a taste of the process?"

Alex felt themselves nod before the words had even fully registered, already growing increasingly comfortable. As soon as Lily noticed their infinitesimal motion of assent, she continued in that same low purr.

"Excellent. Now, I want you to settle back, making yourself as comfortable as you can. That's it, just sink down into the cushions, letting all the tension flow out of your body with each slow, steady breath…" Her voice seemed to be emanating from all around them, no longer pinpointed to a single point in the room but reverberating through their very being.

Alex's eyelids slid closed of their own volition as Lily spoke, their body growing heavier, more grounded with each syllable that rolled from the doctor's lips. They felt suspended in warm, viscous fluid, the soft thrumming of the room's acoustics undulating through their flesh like the steady thrum of a mother's heartbeat. Lily's words seemed to meld with the sounds, drifting through Alex's consciousness like a whispered mantra.

"When you breathe in, I want you to imagine your lungs filling with a warm glow that spreads out into your chest, into your limbs with each inhalation. When you exhale, feel any lingering tension melting away, leaving your muscles loose and pliant. Allow each breath to immerse you a little deeper, a little further into a state of profound relaxation…"

Already, Alex could feel the insidious grip of their persistent anxiety beginning to loosen its stranglehold. Their racing, spiraling thoughts smoothed out into a still, placid lake, growing quieter and quieter until there was only the gentle lapping of Lily's words lulling them ever deeper. The rigid furrow of their brow unfurled, leaving their features slack and open, a faint sheen of sweat beading along their hairline as the air's moisture and subtle floral bouquet enveloped them in a balmy caress.

Slumped back in the buttery leather embrace of the recliner, Alex felt their worries and doubts ebbing away like the receding tide - their usual inner turmoil subsumed by a profound yet alien tranquility. Lily's presence receded from their awareness, until all that remained was the steady rise and fall of their chest, the gentle susurrus of breath, and those honeyed murmurings suffusing every atom of their being.

Floating, drifting… falling into a state of deep hypnagogic suspension, like the space between waking and sleep. On some level, Alex knew they remained fully cognizant and present - but their sense of embodiment had become attenuated, unmoored from the usual trappings of physical form. A vast, silent inner space unfurled inside their consciousness, stretching out into a formless void as Lily's words tugged them deeper and deeper into trance.

From somewhere beyond that infinite expanse, a single crystalline thought coalesced: cigarettes. Alex's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly at the realization - they could no longer taste the usual smoky bitterness lingering at the back of their throat, or smell that acrid tang of smoke clinging to their clothes. No insistent craving, no sour churning in the pit of their gut signaling the itch for their usual coping mechanism.

"…them again, do you? You know it's not healthy for you. Isn't that right?" they heard, tuning back into Lily's words. They felt themselves nodding along. That was right. It all made perfect sense. Alex's mouth hung open a little loosely.

"That's right," they heard themselves slurring. "Not healthy for me," they repeated.

"That's right, it's not good for you. You should quit smoking. You don't need cigarettes anymore. You feel better without them crowding your lungs, don't you? You feel light and free. You'll never want to smoke again after today." The words pressed in, calm yet firm, Lily's rich, mellow tones laced with utter certainty. Alex nodded sluggishly again, the words resonating somewhere deep in their core. They could feel the truth of the statements settling into their very bones. It just felt… axiomatic. "When you think about picking up a cigarette, it makes you nauseous. Disgusted. Anxious. Something you need to tell your therapist about. She can fix it."

Somewhere in the back of their mind, a tiny voice tried to protest that they hadn't asked for this, to have such a major decision made on their behalf without consent. But the words slid off that voice like water on polished marble, leaving no trace or ripple of resistance behind. Alex's consciousness already felt lighter, unencumbered by those familiar, grounding pangs of addiction that had been their near-constant shadow for so many years. The idea of lighting up seemed… repellant, somehow. Unclean. Anathema to their newfound state of serenity.

A tiny, blissful sigh slipped from Alex's slack lips as their shoulders settled deeper into the yielding cushions. Even the last lingering dregs of their ever-present anxiety seemed to be dissipating, replaced by a profound and all-encompassing inner calm. Whatever thread of consciousness still clung to physical embodiment felt almost… buoyant. Unbound and unburdened in a way Alex couldn't recall ever experiencing before.

"That's right. Just let everything go…" Lily murmured, her tone soft yet insistent as she watched Alex's features relax into an expression of utter stillness. "You are healing. You are whole and complete and perfect just as you are." She paused to let the words burrow deeper into Alex's subconscious foundations, then continued. "And you will be honest with me. Honest with your therapist about every single desire, every secret thought and compulsion that crosses your mind from now on - how can she fix you if you don't tell her what's broken about you?"

Alex gave the barest perceptible nod of acknowledgment, eyes still closed and mind spiraling deeper into that boundless inner landscape. They could feel something shifting inside them, a subtle internal alignment taking place. A sense of connection, of profound rapport intertwining their own essence with Lily's in some intangible way. As if the doctor's very presence was suffusing their neural architecture, seeding it with new pathways, new modes of being that blossomed like strange alien flowers.

Lily nodded in satisfaction, dark eyes glittering as she watched Alex sink deeper into trance with each steady exhalation. They looked so… open. Receptive. Pliant and unguarded in a way that set the doctor's pulse quickening despite the detached, clinical facade of her expression. How easy it would be to delve deeper, to slip past those last few tissue-thin psychic barriers and make this pliable creature into a living vessel for all her basest wants and perversions. To render them a hollow husk devoid of compunction or conscience, existing solely to serve as her own personal fuck-toy and plaything.

But no. Much as the thought thrilled some primal, atavistic part of Lily's psyche, she reined herself in. She was a professional, after all - and there were protocols to follow before she could indulge herself to that degree. Like curing a fine meat before placing it in the smoker, building up the proper seasoning and marinade to enhance the flavors. For now, she would content herself with sowing the seeds, planting the first few innocuous suggestions to pave the way for what was to come.

Lily leaned back slightly, letting a few moments of silence elapse. Then she spoke again, her tone carefully modulated to that same hypnotic murmur.

"I want you to relax even deeper now, and listen very closely…" she began, gauging Alex's response as their eyes fluttered open a crack, fixing her with a heavy-lidded vacant stare. "There may be certain thoughts and feelings that come up over the course of our sessions together. Things that make you feel uncomfortable or ashamed or excited in some respects. But I want you to simply observe those impulses without judgment."

A tiny furrow creased Alex's brow, but they didn't look away - if anything, their gaze grew more intensely focused, as if drinking in Lily's every word. The doctor favored them with a gentle smile, continuing in that same hypnotic cadence.

"Some of the things we'll discuss together might seem unpleasant, maybe even disturbing to your conscious mind. But I need you to remember that those thoughts and impulses ultimately come from you, Alex. Your deepest, most primal self. And all I'm here to do is help you confront and process them in a safe, non-judgmental environment."

She paused for a beat, letting the weight of those words sink into Alex's subconscious. Their eyes remained locked with hers, the furrow in their brow gradually smoothing away until their features assumed that same glassy, tranquil mask once more. Satisfied, Lily drew in a slow, measured breath before pressing on.

"You can trust me completely, Alex. Trust that I would never force you to do anything you didn't want to do. Trust that however shocking or perverse some of your desires might seem… well, I've heard and seen it all before. Nothing is too extreme for me. So don't hold anything back, okay?"

Alex's head rolled in a minute nod, their lips barely parting to let out a wordless, breathy 'mmm' of acknowledgment. Lily bit back a predatory grin as she noticed a swelling, growing stain of arousal bleeding through the crotch of Alex's pants. Now when had that happened?

She settled back in her chair, allowing them both a few moments to bask in that languid trance as she pondered her next steps. There was still so much groundwork left to lay, but she had them well and truly enthralled now - their subconscious wide open, like an empty vessel waiting to be filled. Lily let her gaze rove over Alex's slumped, inert form with undisguised relish, mentally mapping out all the ways she would slowly corrupt and subvert that innocuous exterior until all that remained was her perfect little dolly.

As she watched, Alex's brow furrowed and their mouth worked silently, as if struggling to give voice to some burgeoning thought or realization. Curious, Lily arched one dark, sculpted brow.

"Something on your mind, Alex? Don't be afraid to share it with me. This is a safe, non-judgmental space, remember?"

There was a pregnant pause as Alex's lips moved wordlessly, throat working with the effort of it before they finally managed to force the words out in a low, husky slur.

"I… I want…" Their eyelashes fluttered for a moment, and they seemed to war with themselves internally before finishing the sentence with an almost inaudible mumble. "…people to hurt me…"

Lily's eyebrows shot upwards, her eyes going wide for just a split second before she caught herself. She pressed her lips together to stifle any involuntary reaction, nodding slowly as she absorbed that revelation. It took every ounce of discipline and self-control she possessed to maintain her composure in the face of that confession.

"I see." She cleared her throat delicately, letting the words hang in the air for a few seconds that stretched on into an eternity. "Well now, that's certainly something we can explore in time, Alex. But let's not get ahead of ourselves, all right? There's still so much groundwork to lay first before we delve into areas like that."

Alex didn't respond, seeming to retreat back into that tranquil mental void. Lily watched them quietly for a few more beats, her pulse thrumming in her ears as her mind raced. She could…

But no. Not yet. Slow, and steady. That was the key to really breaking someone - a gradual process of eroding away their inhibitions and resistance, one microscopic layer at a time. Gain their trust, then use it to turn them inside out until all they lived for was her.

Lily finally expelled the breath she didn't even realize she'd been holding in a slow, measured exhalation. Then she spoke again in that same sibilant murmur.

"For now, just keep breathing. Deep, slow breaths in through your nose… out through your mouth. Let everything else just drift away, until all that remains is my voice and the beating of your heart. Just focus on that… let it pull you deeper into a state of perfect tranquility…"

As she allowed the words to wash over Alex's consciousness in languid, reverberating waves, Lily's mind drifted to the next stage. She would need to push things further, start probing into the heart of why someone so outwardly unassuming harbored such stark proclivities. Begin drawing it all to the surface, one thread at a time - the traumas and repressed compulsions that festered in their subconscious like an open wound.

Alex had been so easy to ensnare, she mused as she watched their body relax even further into a posture of utter surrender and malleability. A few more sessions like this one and they would be utterly enthralled - little more than a fleshy marionette awaiting her deft touch on its strings. And once they were stripped down to their basest, most naked essence, Lily would be able to begin rebuilding them from the ground up. Reconstituting their identity into the shape of her deepest, most perverse desires until the very concept of selfhood was erased from their psyche.

Her lips curled in a small, secret smile at the thought. Most would likely view such aspirations as a gross violation of ethics and human dignity. But Lily knew better. Her reverie was interrupted by a faint stirring from the recliner as Alex's eyelids fluttered open a crack. There was no hint of lucidity in their glassy expression, just a sort of vacant placidity as their pupils swiveled listlessly to meet Lily's gaze. "Let's get started with those anxieties, now that you're properly relaxed, shall we, Alex?"

They answered with an infinitesimal nod, a tiny sigh slipping from parted lips as their eyes slid closed once more. Lily settled back, fingers steepling together as she watched them closely.

"The first step is to let your mind drift back… back to the roots of that constant state of worry that plagues you. Focus on your breathing and let the memories come unbidden. Don't judge or analyze them, simply let them arise and pass through you like clouds drifting across an open sky…"

Lily's voice took on a deeper, more reverberant quality as she spoke - the words no longer seeming to emanate from her lips but manifesting directly inside Alex's consciousness. They were falling deeper into that hypnagogic space now, their body melting away from their awareness until there was nothing but an endless inner void as Lily's murmurings echoed through their psyche.

Alex let their eyelids slide shut obediently, focusing inward and letting their breath slow to a steady, meditative rhythm. Images began to coalesce out of the void as memories surfaced one by one - a kaleidoscope of moments and experiences from both their childhood and more recent adulthood.

A sense of dread settled over Alex like a leaden mantle, a profound, bone-deep unease that seemed to permeate each recalled instant. They saw the world through a child's eyes, filled with a thousand tiny anxieties and paranoias. The sick lurch of terror over every perceived slight or harsh word from friends or family. That constant, nagging sense of being somehow wrong for experiencing certain impulses and urges that other kids never seemed to display.

The images dissolved like smoke on the wind, only to be replaced with more recent vignettes - social situations where Alex's stomach knotted with worry over how they looked, how they were coming across, if the people around them secretly hated them or merely tolerated their presence out of obligation. Intimate encounters where they froze up, paralyzed by panic at the thought of revealing too much about the darkness that resided in the recesses of their psyche.

On and on the memories came, each one weighed down by that same burdgeoning sense of existential angst. Alex tried to pull back, to retreat from the deluge - but Lily's voice was there, a steady anchor amidst the storm.

"Let it flow through you, Alex. Don't fight it, simply surrender to the tide and let it wash over you without resistance. You are safe here. You are comfortable. We can fix you."

Alex felt themselves begin to cry, eyes watering through their glassy, empty expression.

It was all so agonizing, so heavy. They had pushed it down, smothered it, for so long. All that pain and fear and loneliness they had swaddled themselves in like a heavy cloak, afraid to let anyone see the teeming maelstrom of self-loathing and sexual deviancy lurking beneath.

Lily's voice continued to weave through their subconscious in soft, hypnotic waves. "Tell your therapist, Alex. Tell me what's wrong with you. I'm here to listen without judging." It was gentle, coaxing. A voice of authority, like someone who could fix all the broken parts.

Alex trembled as their mind's eye was drawn to a much more recent memory - the one that had eaten away at them every single day since it happened. Their body went rigid and still as they fought for the willpower to speak, to give voice to that shameful secret at long last. Then finally, the words slipped from their lips in a quavering whisper.

"I… I wanted her to k-kill me. During sex. I asked her to choke me until I passed out, and when she finally let go… a huge part of me was disappointed I was still breathing."

There was a long, hushed pause as Lily absorbed this revelation. To her credit, she barely reacted - her face remaining a mask of impassive neutrality as she watched Alex's vacant features.

"I understand," she said at last, her tone unbearably gentle. "It must've been so disappointing. Have your lovers all disappointed you like this?"

Alex's head rolled from side to side slowly, the ghost of tears leaking from their tightly-clenched eyelids. "I… I can't tell them," they croaked out in a voice raw with emotion. "They'd hate me because I'm a freak."

Lily's eyes were hooded as she watched Alex's features contort with pain and self-loathing. Her tongue darted out to wet her full lips as a familiar thrill of sadistic delight set her nerve endings tingling.

"Oh no, Alex… no no no," she crooned in that same soothing burr. "They don't hate you, you hate yourself. There's nothing at all wrong with those urges. They're perfectly natural, you know. We all have them. It's just that most of us have been conditioned to feel shame. I'm not going to judge you. Your therapist will never judge you for telling the truth."

Alex sniffed loudly, head lolling to one side as their eyes slitted open a crack. For a moment their gaze seemed to regain some semblance of lucidity, fixing on Lily with an ineffable mix of desperation and hope.

"Y-you don't think I'm a freak? For wanting…" Their voice cracked on the last word, unable to give voice to those perverse compulsions even now. But Lily understood. She lifted one hand in a soothing, placating gesture as she offered them a warm smile.

"Not at all, dear. It's just a form of consensual masochism taken to an extreme degree. Nothing outright sinister about that if both parties understand the risks and have negotiated terms clearly." She wheeled herself a few inches closer, holding Alex's heavy gaze with that same gentle intensity. "And no - what you're describing hardly even qualifies as 'extreme'. Your therapist has helped plenty of others overcome hang-ups and discomforts far more unsavory than that."

Alex regarded Lily with something bordering on awe through their half-lidded eyes. Their lips moved, but no sound emerged as they struggled to process this new reality. Here was someone - a professional no less - who seemed to view their darkest proclivities not with horror or disgust, but complete acceptance. Validation, even.

A palpable sense of relief washed over them, like a heavy burden being lifted from their shoulders at long last. For the first time in longer than they could remember, Alex felt… safe. Understood. Free to be their authentic self without fear of persecution. Lily watched as their expression softened, features slackening into that same mask of vacant tranquility once more.

"It's not uncommon for those with histories of trauma or abuse to develop certain compensatory coping mechanisms," Lily continued in that same low, hypnotic croon. "Especially ones that might seem counterintuitive or disturbing to an outside perspective. Masochistic compulsions, a desire to revisit past traumas and recontextualize them as something empowering rather than victimizing. To sublimate pain into a form of cathartic release. To develop unhealthily codependent relationships, instead of healthily dependent ones."

She favored Alex with a beatific smile and a slight nod of encouragement. "So please, don't hold back with me, Alex. I can help guide you through all those dark and troubling impulses that have been haunting you. This is a safe space for you to finally be your true self without shame or judgment. The real work begins now."

It was as if Lily's words had flipped some deep-seated switch within Alex's psyche. The last vestiges of internalized shame and self-loathing seemed to evaporate like smoke on the wind, leaving them open and vulnerable in a way they never thought possible. Their therapist understood - and not only that, but she encouraged them to give voice to those forbidden compulsions. A profound sense of relief washed over Alex, like a massive burden being lifted from their shoulders at long last.

They drew in a deep, shuddering breath as fresh tears welled up behind their closed eyelids. But there was no sadness there now - only a profound catharsis spreading through them from the inside out like a soothing balm. For the first time in what felt like forever, Alex felt… free. Unbound by fear or self-recrimination. Whole.

It was all going to be okay. Lily would help them confront those dark impulses, guide them through processing the unresolved anguish and childhood traumas that had birthed those perverse compulsions. She would show them the way to turn those masochistic urges into something empowering, something transcendent. In that moment, Alex had never felt safer or more at peace.

Lily watched with a mixture of clinical detachment and predatory relish as Alex's body relaxed into an even deeper posture of surrender. Their expression was one of utter serenity and trust, every iota of resistance and doubt having melted away to leave them utterly open and vulnerable before her.

She reached out, letting her fingertips trace a feather-light caress along the plush swell of Alex's inner thigh. They didn't even flinch or tense at her touch, so deeply under were they. Lily thrilled at the feel of soft, yielding flesh through the thin barrier of denim, her dark eyes glittering with avarice.

"Excellent work today, Alex," she murmured, her voice slipping back into that same rich, resonant tone that seemed to caress their very neurons. "I think we made some real, meaningful breakthroughs in our first session - and I'm so very proud of how open and honest you were able to be with me."

Those were the last coherent words Alex's conscious mind registered before the world dissolved around them. Even as Lily continued speaking, her words became a wordless, enveloping vibration that suffused their entire being. Like a warm sonic balm, bathing them in pleasurable sensation as their sense of embodiment ebbed away, leaving only consciousness itself drifting in a vast, placid sea.

Alex had no concept of how long they remained suspended in that state, cradled by the ebb and flow of Lily's voice resonating through their psyche like the tides of some inner ocean. All they knew was warmth, safety, a profound sense of peace and acceptance the likes of which they had never known. When at last their awareness began to gradually resurface, they felt rested and refreshed in a way that defied simple description. A damp squelching had spread throughout their boxers, back to front, and Alex couldn't bring themselves to care in the slightest.

Lily's face slowly came back into focus, the doctor smiling warmly as she watched Alex's eyes flutter open with a heavy-lidded, bleary expression. She reached over to give their hand a gentle squeeze.

"How do you feel?" There was no hint of condescension or judgment in her tone, only open warmth and compassion. Alex blinked slowly, taking stock of themselves for a long moment. Then a small, beatific smile curved their lips as they met the doctor's gaze with an expression of profound serenity.

"Perfect," Alex replied, face raw and puffy with tears and snot.

#hypnok1nk #hypnosis #corruption kink #brainwashing #writing #mind control #nsft #t4t nsft #trans nsft #masochist kink #bdsmkink

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fayes-fics · 1 year ago

Note

Okay - Kinktober Request!

Anthony + Modern + Anonymous Sex

This could range from vanilla to completely unhinged lol. Do your worst, darling.

Kinktober: Anthony + Anonymous / Intercrural Sex

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

Paring: Anthony Bridgeton x fem!reader, modern AU

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, anonymous sex with a stranger, non-penetrative (intercrural) sex.

Author’s note: hi lovely 🫶 thanks for this ask; it was a fun one. I also went WAYYYY over a drabble, but The Viscount is worth it, right? 😁 Enjoy! 🧡

You've never been so bold in your life.

Trailing the most beautiful man you have ever met. Known only to you as “The Viscount”, according to the bartender anyway. He is apparently the owner of this upscale establishment and the person who brought you the drink that you hold. Eyes meeting in an almost cliched manner across the bar.

You allowed him to grab your hand and lead you away wordlessly. Away from your friend who was barely cognisant of your departure, glued to their phone due to boyfriend drama—it's always something with those two. The man stops short by a heavy wooden door, which opens to reveal a whisky room, wood-panelled, oversized leather chairs, and walls lined with artfully lit bottles.

“My private collection,” he explains, releasing your hand to spin around and hold his arms out demonstratively. “I hope you are enjoying the spoils,” he winks, nodding at your expensive lead-crystal glass.

You nod back and smile demurely. Something about this man feels inevitable. So when he takes your glass and places it aside, drawing you in for a passionate kiss, it feels right. You don't even know his name; he never asked for yours. But as your tongues parry, all you can think is that he tastes of smoky single malt, zinging mint and utter sin.

He backs you into the wall, the panelling moulding to your bottom as the fiery kisses continue, grabbing your hands and holding them pinned at head height.

“What is it about you? You alluring mystery…” he rumbles, pupils blown, moving his nose to trail up your neck as he sniffs you, almost obscenely.

“Fuck me,” it tumbles from your lips unbidden, honesty and need bubbling up from your depths.

He growls and presses his whole being into you, something hard poking your lower belly as he does so.

“I want to,” he confesses, roughly tugging your fitted dress up over the swell of your hips, warm fingers sliding boldly against the lace of your underwear. “So wet,” he groans, bucking against you another time.

You reach for his zipper, and with trembling hands, you lower his fly as he keeps teasing you with a maddeningly slow stroke of a singular digit. Somehow you are not surprised when a sizable, delicious rock-hard cock springs forth, no underwear in sight. You go to touch it, but he again grabs your wrists and pins them to the wall, this time far above your head. Then slowly, he leans in, and you feel that hot cock slide over your underwear, catching your clit, making you moan softly.

“I don't fuck on a first date,” he breathes, sinking his fingers between yours and grasping with a fist, “but I will make you come.”

A shiver runs through your entire being at that loaded promise, sealed with another filthy, open-mouthed kiss.

“Cross your feet,” he smiles decadently over your lips, and you can't help but do as he says.

You squeak into his mouth as that sizeable cock slips bluntly and hot between your squeezed thighs. Then he begins to move, slow at first, then steady and strong, each pass rubbing your clit, the tightness and scratch of lace arousing for both of you.

“Perfect,” he moans into your mouth, still holding your hands caged, your entire being swamped by him. Part of you wants him to rip away your underwear and fuck you for real. “We will fuck one day, just not here,” he pants as if he can read your mind.

“Please…,” it's a whimper as your clit burns white-hot from the frottage, nudged heavily with each stroke.

He kisses you repeatedly, surging you into the wall with the snap of his pelvis, making each priceless bottle rattle in its fancy metal cage. Your arousal coats your inner thighs, giving him easy passage.

He moves to suck on that sensitive spot on your neck that makes your knees weak; you have to lock them to stop yourself melting to the floor. All the while, his hands don’t let go of yours, a signet ring on his little finger leaving an indent in the gap between your fingers.

He speeds up, the passing of his cock a heavy weight that makes you moan lightly. He is grunting softly, as drunk on the sensation as you are. The tug low in your belly signifies a few more strokes are all you will need, your breath a staccato over his stubbled jaw as he nibbles your earlobe.

“I can tell you are close,” he murmurs low and richly into your ear. “Come on, beautiful, give it to me.”

And you do. Allowing yourself to tip over that edge, shuddering as your entire being fractures around him, slumping into the wall and crying out, eyes screwed shut, clit throbbing. He groans lewdly, and while you float, he invades your mouth, his groan vibrating against your tongue as, after a few hitching noises, he slams between your legs, stilling. A warm liquid splashes down the back of your bare thighs as he comes, too.

After a few moments of heavy breathing, he slowly releases your hands. Asks you to turn around, and as your leg muscles twitch, he kneels behind you and gently cleanses your legs of his cum with a bar towel. When he is done, he tenderly kisses the swell of your bottom before pulling down your dress again.

You flip around, and seeing him on his knees before you makes you aching for him again.

“Take me home,” you challenge, a hand shooting out to cup his jaw. It’s an order, not a request.

“With pleasure, my lady,” he responds, knowing he will be breaking his first-date rule.

Later that night, you learn his real name. But you always refer to him as The Viscount. That’s his name in your phone, and sometimes the title you bestow when he is fucking you so good it’s a transcendental experience.

No taglist as these drabbles are so short

#kinktober 2023 #kinktober #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton smut #anthony bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton smut #bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x female reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n

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gayandfairycore · 2 years ago

Text

Thin walls

A/n this is the first smut I’ve written in awhile so I’m a little bit rusty. but there’s a serious lack of Lockwood and co smut here and I wanted-no needed to remedy that, lockwoods far too pretty for this lack of smut!

Summary: the walls of 35 Portland row are thin, Very thin.

Warnings: ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP, p in v smut, unprotected sex wrap it b4 you tap it, switch Lockwood, switch reader, oral male and female receiving, slight cock warming, Lockwood might be a bit ooc. Also this is not proof read so there may be some mistakes! Also grammatical errors.

Word count: 2,613 words

The warm smell of books and tea fill the late night air of the house, a hard cover book in your lap, as you snuggle up in your leather chair the crinkle of the material moving loudly as you move.

You don’t even realise the boy standing in the doorway, a look of soft adoration painting his face. His oversized blazer tucked around you in a protective hold. As you inhale his scent, “hello, my love” Lockwood whispers placing a tentative kiss on the side of your jaw, his arms reaching around to hold you from behind. A large smile breaking your face as you whirl your head up to place a soft kiss on his lips from your chair. Your lips moulding together perfectly despite it being an upside down kiss. Lockwoods teeth pulling gently on your bottom lip his large hands coming up to caress your jaw, his touch gentle and barely there as if he was afraid he’d break you, the suit wearing boy slips his tongue into your mouth in attempt to deepen the kiss your tongue’s fighting for dominance, until his reigns superior. His lips pulling into his signature cocky smirk.

His hands moving down your body, his nails bragging gently over your throat, a low hum repels from your chest muffled by his lips, his hands continue to move lower and lower, running along your clothed chest. He pulls back, concern drawn on his face as he asks “is this okay?” A love filled expression bewitches you it didn’t matter how many times you’ve had sex with eachother he’d always ask the same thing. Pulling the boy closer by his tie you whisper a sultry “of course, dear.” Before attaching your lips to his again, he feels his face heating up at your tone your fingers messily undoing his tie before pulling your lips back looking up at the boy through your eyelashes “I think we should move this somewhere more…private?”

“Oh absolutely, couldn’t agree more.” Anthony smirks his hand in yours as you both vacate the library your steaming cup of tea lying now thouroughly untouched on the side table, and book discarded haphazardly on the floor. Climbing each step seemingly lasts an excruciating long time being led behind the dashing ebony haired boy, you move his hand to your lips placing tentative kisses on his fingers, as he looks back at you with a lusting gaze turning around he tells you to put your legs around his waist, doing so, he then reattaches his lips to yours as you both stumble into walls, and discarded books laughs breaking when Lockwood trips over his own feet bashful smile on his face “sorry!” He chuckles

“Don’t be.” You say placing a kiss on his jaw, moving farther down to his neck you begin to nip, and suck on his skin whimpers and breathy moans leave him at the contact pushing the door to his room open he latched his lips to yours before shutting the door with his feet lying you on his bed softly he moves up your body from below, moving your T-shirt up to expose your uncovered chest. The cool air of his bedroom hardening your nipples, lockwoods dress pants growing exponentially tighter at the sight of you. His jacket you had previously adorned discarded somewhere in the house along with his tie. His hands made fast movements on his shirt buttons fumbling over a few only to slow down when your soft hands begun to palm him through his trousers. His head falling back as breathy moans left his lips “n-now y/n I thought I was meant to pleasure-pleasure you-“

“Hmm it goes both ways, locky~” you whisper in his ear, hand still palming him through his trousers nipping and pulling at his ear lobe, a sharp intake of breath leaves the boy as his cocky smile comes back to his face. Shedding his dress shirt and pants with little struggle his boxers doing little to hide his length. Running your hands over his chest you place a kiss over his heart, sucking and biting, and working your magic it’s no surprise when you let up the large purple and red bruise that’s in the shape of a heart over his heart.

Sinking to your knees at the end of his bed you place a kiss just above the band of his underwear pulling and snapping the elastic a whine leaves Lockwood “don’t tease darling~”

“How can I not when you look so pretty, needy?” You smile dragging down his boxers and freeing his length, he’s a little over average, and skinny. The head of his cock leaking precum, it’s large purple head had you salivating right then and there. spreading around his precum with your fingers, moving your hand up and down his length excruciatingly slow pace watching as a steady string of moans leave his mouth as you latch your lips onto his cock, bobbing your head up and down stroking the rest of his length that couldn’t fit in your mouth. Lockwood thrusting his hips effectively face fucking you, his hands gripping your head as he moves the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat making you gag a little, tears stinging your eyes as his pace increases moans escaping you as Lockwood tugs your hair the vibrations sending a wave of pleasure over the boy.

“Fuck y/n!” He exclaims “I’m close!” Swirling your mouth over the head of his cock the salty taste of his precum in your tongue is enough to make you salivate drool and saliva soaking his cock. Lockwoods thrusts becoming sloppier as the boy finally let’s go, his hot cum shooting down your throat and dripping down your chin as he pulls his still hardened cock out of your mouth. Leaning down to place a kiss on your lips he can taste himself on you.

“Mmm” leaves him before he can stop himself, lifting you up off of the floor your knees surely bruising from the hard wood floor Anthony’s large hands grip your ribs as his thumb comes to run over your hardened nipples caressing and neading the soft flesh of your breast “oh god! Lockwood!” You cry as his lips attach to your nipple, sucking with as much lewd sounds as he can produce, his other hand caressing your breast, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fore finger and thumb.

Inhaling sharply as his fingers continue to pinch your nipples, the pain morphing into pleasure, the sound of lockwoods mouth detaching from your nipple with a loud POP! Fills the silence of the bedroom, your legs rubbing together in a feeble attempt to gain some friction.

“This feels a bit unfair DONT you think? I mean I’m fully nude and you’re still fully clothed. Why don’t you go ahead and remove them for me sweetheart?” Lockwood commands, softly, your mind scrambled at the boys mere presence.

“O-okay!” Your hands tug up on your tshirt flinging it to the floor in a hurry, you wiggle out of your pj shorts and underwear, Lockwood watched from above you, as you strip yourself of your clothes, showing him your everything. His gaze is intense but loving. “You are a goddess.” He says moving your limbs away from your chest and vagina. “Don’t hide from me, dear. Not now not ever.” Anthony commands his eyes glancing at yours with seriousness.

“I love you” you whisper “not as much as I love you.” He replies, placing a kiss on your lips, your chest, your stomach. Your naval, and finally the beginning of your vagina, Lockwood can see your wetness begin to leak onto your thighs when you rubbed them together, swallowing hard the boy dips down, his large hands gripping the flesh of your thighs and moving them farther apart, he unconsciously plays with the flesh of your thigh, kneading and rolling the flesh he grips it with enough force to produce a moan and light bruises, as he looks up at your face, looking at him with shyness your previous confidence seemingly dissipated. He holds eye contact with you as he licks a long stride up your vagina, your wetness gathering along his tongue as he swirls it around, his finger coming up to rub figure 8s on your clit “oh god lock-Lockwood! That feels so-so good!” You call your head thrown back in ecstasy.

It encourages Anthony to push a little more pressure on the tender bud, your legs attempting to squeeze shut, clasping against his head, suffocating him in your thighs. Lockwood let’s out a pleasureful hum that reverberates through you the vibrations enough to bring that familiar feeling back into your lower tummy, the sensation coiling tightly desperate for release as your hands burry themselves in Lockwoods curly hair tugging tightly as he chuckles, your slick dripping down his chin as he inserts one of his fingers as it rams into you with speed, hitting your g-spot, loud lewd moans leave your lips as Lockwood heightens his pace, the coiling within your stomach is about to snap!

when nothing. Lockwoods fingers have relented their momentum, his tongue no longer swirling and curling within you at just the right pace. “Ugh lock wood! What the hell!” You whine reaching behind you throwing one of his pillows at him satisfied when it hits him in the face, and oof! Sound muffled by the fluffy pillow.

“I’m sorry darling but I had to get you back for all your teasing.”

“You really suck you know that?” You say crossing your arms over your chest

“We’ll perhaps I need to make it up to you.” He retorts inserting his fingers back into you

“Lockwood!” You cry as he slams into your gspot with his fingers, curling them, and rubbing your clit at the same time it’s only a matter of moments before the cool begins to grow and snap when Lockwood curls his fingers knocking your special spot and the added pressure on your clit makes you let go loud and breathy moans leave you your back arching eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Your juices squirting, and yet Lockwood doesn’t halt his movements infact he speeds up. Your second orgasm building, and releasing within moments when the boy attaches his lips to your clitoris.

When you orgasm for the second time he’s ready, lapping at your vagina, the loud sounds of sex and the squelching of your juices fills the room, disorientation and overstimulation mixes together well as

Lockwood lines himself up with your entrance, sinking himself into you, groans escape the boy as he revels in the feeling of having himself cockdeep inside you, waiting for you to adjust to his size his concerned features look down at you silently asking you if it’s alright for him to move now.

Panting and nodding, Lockwood began to bottom out before slamming back into you “oh god! Lockwood!” Soft moans and whines leaving the boy in front of you.

“I love you y/n” lockwood whispers placing a kiss on your lips, and moving his hands down to rub your clit, the sensitive bud pulsating from his previous care to it when his hands lightly brush over the bud it brings a sharp whine from your lips as his thrusts picking up pace as his lips attaching to your breast as moans reverberate from him, his cock sinking deeper into you, hitting your g-spot “oh Lockwood! Right mm right there!”

“God y/n you feel so good!” He groane, as your fingernails claw at the boys back. In pleasure. Moans escape his lips at the burn from the cool bedroom stings the cuts.

The familiar feeling begins to build in Lockwood at the sight of you below him, writhing in pleasure, a moaning mess beneath him. You were all his, and he was all yours.

“Darling I’m gonna- gonna c-um!” Lockwood calls out in warning, sharp hiss leaving him half way though as your hands take through his hair “ngh! Don’t stop! Don’t you dare stop!” You whimper the sound of the headboard against the walls and the sounds of lockwoods cock slamming into you the smell of sex intoxicates the room as Lockwood comes undone, you coming shortly after at the whimpering whine that breaks from deep in lockwoods chest. His hot cum shooting inside of you mixing with your own. He leaves his cock in you for a a moment more not yet ready to relieve himself of the warmth and comfort of being inside you.

A proud boyish grin paints his face as he watches both of your cum mixing together and spilling out of you.

His lanky body collapsing beside you as you both panted desperate for breath rolling into his side your head on his chest you placed a chaste kiss over his heart the hickeys from earlier a stark contrast against his pale chest; as he stretches his arm of the side of his bed he grabs a clean tshirt wiping you clean and pulling you into him.

Pulling up his teal duvet he rests his head atop yours as sleep finally overcomes the pair of you, the clock striking 3 am.

The kitchen the next morning is quiet, the only sounds are from the pop! of the toaster, and the boiling of the jug. the group sitting around the table in silence lockwoods proud smirk obstructed by his newspaper as your legs shake under the table, taking a sip at your tea, in awkward silence. Lucy’s shit eating grin plain on her face as her chest moves with her full body laugh “so you guys finally did it huh?”

“Wait what- you- you guys heard?!?” You cry out mortified “also finally?” Lockwood adds

“Uh huh” Lucy nods “everything.” She reiterates pointing an accusatory piece of half eaten toast toward you both, cheek splitting smile on her face as she shakes her head.

“And plus George and I had a bet, who’d initiate it first, he said y/n, and I said Lockwood.” The girl exclaimed holding a hand out for George to put a 20 in her hand.

“We have thin walls you know.” George speaks up, looking disappointed in himself as he hands over a 20.

a shadowy look overtaking his face as he was seemingly reliving the sounds from last night, his room right next to Lockwood, the sound of the squeaky bed bashing against the wall and the loud moans and other lewd sounds traumatising the researcher.

Embarrassment colours your cheeks as Lockwood laughs at the boy placing a hand on your shoulder, as he places his newspaper on the table moving to butter some toast

“Very thin walls in fact as I recall you guys sounded quite like this” Lucy calls chomping on a piece of toast and faking boarder-line pornographic moans “oh Lockwood! Please! Please!” And “oh y/n! Feels so good! God so good!” She continues to impersonate smirking into her tea at the embarrassment that now covers lockwoods cheeks.

“Who would’ve thought George your best friends a switch.” The brunette girl chuckles at the disgust on George’s face

“Oh god gross!” He exclaims covering his ears and pushing up his glasses

“I might have a look in that paper for a new job- one where the members don’t almost have sex in the library!”

“But Georgey we didn’t!” Lockwood exclaims “plus, you’d miss us too much to leave.”

The dark haired boy relents sinking down in his chair “I guess”

Sharing an amused glance with Lockwood he places a kiss on your lips as he walks past taking the newspaper from George’s hands.

Taglist: @simrah1012

#anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x you #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood and co smut #lockwood is a whimperer #Anthony Lockwood x reader smut #Lockwood smut #lockwoods a switch #lockwoods a simp tm #lockwood and co #lockwood x reader #lucy carlyle #George karim

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regularconvexheadcanons · 2 months ago

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Headcanon 10

Cub and Scar both have a shulker box in their base of the second set of the other’s pyjamas and comfort clothes, so if one of them stays the night, or needs to be in something more comfortable, they don’t need to go back to their own base.

Scar’s comfort clothes include:

Pyjamas with star wars characters as cats

A fluffy Grogu (Baby Yoda) onesie

Slipper boots

Full Top-Gun style aviation gear

Hooded cloaks (even after Secret Life)

A full cowboy/sheriff costume

An accurate NASA space suit

A leather jacket with pictures, sewn patches, and fancy embroidery all over the lining (there is only one)

Cub’s comfort clothes include:

A big fluffy dressing gown

Constellation pyjamas that he spent far too long making accurate with fabric paint

His labcoat - of which there is only one, the one Scar made for him in Season 6 after a fire destroyed his previous one. Though it’s resistant to most things - fire, mould, most tears - Cub wears normal labcoats that look and function the same when he knows it could get messy/ruined/lost.

#convex #cubfan135 #hermitcraft #cubfan135 headcanon #gtws #headcanon #convex headcanon #wholesome #Clothing headcanon #goodtimeswithscar headcanon #goodtimeswithscar #goodtimewithscar headcanon #goodtimewithscar

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rozieramati · 7 months ago

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cream leather moulded dress from alexander mcqueen ss07 ‘sarabande’

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truthconveyer · 8 days ago

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I hate when you naarm fucks get tumblr and post about your life in some shithole 800$pw sharehouse in the north east and think ur so creative because you paint kurt cobains face with watercolours and scribble in grey lead and dress like the mannequins at st.vinnies that are aimed at 82 year olds and think because you wear some RETARDED big ass “Staple Vintage Rare Cut” necklace with it that it somehow makes it so unique and creative when you just look like you have autism and dont understand the societal standards of dressing yourself. You all have parents that make 175k per year and then you do work experience at iga in year 10 then study at tafe for a year and repost infographics about climate change onto your instagram story with a spacey jane song added and try and act like youre lower-middle class and care about international issues effecting minorities then you and your obviously drug fucked but hides it under an indie aesthetic mates all move in together to study liberal arts and psychology at deakin whilst you smoke rollie cigarettes in your rotting fake leather jacket because you aim to come off as organic and raw but you just look like you stink of mould. whilst you play animal crossing on your nitendo switch and eat a banana on the vline thinking you look so interesting with those big fuck ass headphones sitting on your unbrushed and damaged hair texting your ftm gerard way kin virgo gofundme androgynous polyamory housemate about the new sex toy you got and how excited you are about the festival lineup you just saw on your Hi stalker 🧿🧿🧿 Amethyst Rose quartz Kmart Witchcraft books “noo youre not fat youre just chubby dont listen to what they say girl❤️” Stop reflecting xx Zoloft Seroquel Best friend from Fitzroy recent Threads post but we all know the truth about You People……

Are you from Adelaide

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skzoologist · 1 year ago

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It was a bit(e) of a mistake

word count: ~1.3k

genre: crack

warnings: none

summary: Filming their Halloween special was always a hazard for Bae, now more than ever.

Please let me know if I left a warning or anything out, I will add it in! Reblogs, likes and feedback are greatly appreciated!

!I don't condone anyone stealing my work and posting it anywhere without my permission, or feeding it to AI!

!This is just fiction, my interpretation of Stray Kids. By no means is this how they are and how they behave in real life!

·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙

This day of the year came again, something that Bae both looked forward to and dreaded at the same time.

Why?

Because his band members were notorious for teasing him more than usual, forcing the poor makeup artists to hurry and try to cover up his heated up skin, before the situation got so bad it would become straight up impossible. The poor staff members were all familiar with it, learning to enjoy it more than anything, if their amused smiles and laughter were anything to go by. And through it all, Bae couldn’t do anything, his only choice was to silently accept it and try to shoot their Halloween special video for their beloved fans, hoping that his cheeks only looked like they had too much blush applied to.

He tried in the past, but it didn’t work. All it got him was a firm place in SKZ meme compilations, something that wasn’t exactly his aim, to be quite honest.

“What do you think we’ll be dressed up as this year?” - Seungmin asked from beside him, breaking Bae out of his stupor. “Well, probably not something we already were in the past, so I’m curious too.” - Jeongin replied, sipping on some caffeinated drink he found in their break room. “I hope it’s vampires, that one was fun.” - Felix added in as he entered the room, plopping right next to their maknae and immediately clinging to him. “Oh my god, you’re right, we should be vampires again! The fans loved it, didn’t they, Bae hyung?” - Jisung excitedly said, wiggling his eyebrows at the mentioned male.

Bae, of course, silently shook his head in denial, even though his mind instantly relayed to him the clips of all the videos STAY made, some cool, some… on the more questionable side. His skin already started darkening, something his very ‘kind’ friends pointed out to him gleefully.

“I agree with Jisung, the stylists did a really great job.” - it was Minho this time, a devious grin already forming on his lips. “Of course you do, you couldn’t keep your hands away from him in those black leather pants.” - that expression of Chan’s was frighteningly starting to look like the one Minho had, making Bae do a double-take. “Please, as if you were any different.” - Hyunjin said as he rolled his eyes, his lanky form draped over Felix as he was watching the boy’s phone. “Says the pot to the kettle.” “Yah!”

In the blink of an eye a playfight broke out between the three, everyone else watching it, even though they were just as guilty as the participants. It was a miracle in itself that Changbin hadn’t joined in, opting to instead continue snacking in their limited breaktime. Jisung somehow managed to avoid it all, quietly standing back and enjoying the show while sipping on his own chosen beverage. Based on his dangerously rising energy levels, it had to have been coffee, adding to Bae’s increasingly worsening stress levels.

“Can we have ONE occasion where you guys aren’t flirting, teasing and just straight up grabbing at each other?” - Bae muttered out into his own hands that rested on his face, only the ones sitting next to him hearing it.

While he didn’t get a vocal answer, something he didn’t really hope to get -he wasn’t that naive-, Felix just sympathetically patted his back in a fruitless chase of comfort.

Soon they were whisked away, their stylists moulding them to the image in their heads, turning them into the idols their fans knew and loved. Bae always loved it, obediently sitting in the chair and letting the professionals work away on him, covering up any imperfections and painting on his skin. His long hair always got the same treatment, sometimes even having two people work on it at the same time. This time the dark strands were hanging free, some taken to be braided and clipped to stay in place.

He felt like a work of art himself.

“WOOHOOO, WE’RE VAMPIRES, YESSS!”

A very miserable work of art.

He truly couldn’t help the deep sigh that resonated from his chest, the notion not at all new to him. His red eyes followed the excited form of the others joyfully darting around the room they were soon to be filming in, somehow even Chan joining them, instead of trying to wrestle the others into his hold to calm them down. Bae dreaded fully stepping into the room, knowing fully well what was about to happen once he did so.

The stylists thankfully crafted a less daring outfit for him this time, granting him that classy, old time vampire look with a hint of that usual kpop industry shine. His skin was fully covered up, nothing to bashfully try and hide, yet his neck was delightfully peeking out, two little painted on red dots revealed in the right angle.

Of course, this didn’t stop the others from flustering him the moment they noticed him, latching onto his rigid form every chance they could get. No matter how hard Bae was trying to act unaffected, to dodge them and their hands, his mask was starting to crack. It didn’t help that Minho was using the short moments when Bae was distracted to do what he was the best at: hunting butts. Even his little discipline, Seungmin, joined in, causing Bae to have a smaller brain aneurysm.

He didn’t think it could ever get worse, until he felt a presence behind his back, sharp pain in his neck following it close behind. A strangled little shout left his lips, sounding more surprised than anything.

Bae didn’t know what to think, as he stood there, silent, just like the perpetrator, all the while the others were laughing so hard, he was becoming slightly concerned for their well-being. But soon his brain rebooted, his eyes darting to the side, discovering dark strands of hair and round cheeks.

A dangerous idea popped into his head, the taste of revenge too sweet to think of the consequences. Thus, he turned around, caging the mischievous little quokka in his hold and he bit, his two fake, elongated teeth sinking deeper than the others into his prey’s flesh.

A small sound took Bae’s attention away, his head urgently tearing away from Jisung’s neck and looking at him with wide eyes.

“Did you just fucking moan?!” - his voice was raised, something that didn’t happen a lot. “Hey man, I don’t kinkshame you.” - it was all the reply he got before his face shifted, his arms holding the man in his hold the furthest away from him he could.

Laughter bounced around the room, accompanied by thuds as some people fell down from the force of it. Some members were trying to form sentences, but failed as no word that left their mouths made sense. Even the staff members joined in, some desperately trying to hide their laughter, some entirely giving up on the impossible task.

“Holy s-shit, I, I have never seen, I-, Bae hyung look so disgusted, and, and h-he lives with Gymracha!” - it was Felix’s deep voice that succeeded first, riddled with laughter and wheezing, his lungs desperately trying to gather in air.

Seungmin and Jeongin were quick to agree, doubling over again, joined by the resident cat and weasel. All the while the mentioned members looked at the young aussie offended, but the memory of what just happened replayed in their minds once again and took their attention away, blessing them with another bout of laughter.

“I am giving you up for adoption, Jisung.” “Wh- wait, wait, Hyung, I’m sorry, please come back!”

As Jisung went out to chase after Bae, the others scraped themselves together, watching them with joy still swimming in their eyes.

“Now I wish I did it sooner.” “Me too Seungmin, me too.” - it was Felix who replied, but it was clear they were all thinking it.

“I guess I’m giving you all up for adoption then, bye.” “Wait, naur, Bae come back–”

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