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eepwtf · 3 months ago

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SYNOPSIS - BRATTY

TYPE - SERIES "Thinking about..."

WARNINGS - bratty!soldier boy , top m!reader , 18+ , name calling , overstimulation , some degrading , other shit i’m too lazy to warn just overall smut don’t like it don’t read!

-FEM-ALIGNED, MINORS, AGELESS, PRONOUN-LESS BLOGS DNF

ffffuck thinking about soldier boy who has been pushing your buttons all day, strutting around with that cocky attitude, testing your patience to the limit. his bratty remarks, the constant backtalk, and that smug grin were driving you up the wall. it was like he was daring you to do something about it, taunting you with every word, every glance. you knew he was doing it on purpose, trying to see just how far he could push before you snapped. and god, you were close—so close to breaking.

finally, you couldn't take it anymore. grabbing him by the collar, you yanked him close. with a swift, decisive movement, you shoved him down onto the bed. he landed with a thud, his eyes wide with a mix of surprise and anticipation. but he quickly masked it with that familiar defiance. "you finally gonna do something, or are you just all talk?" he sneered, his words laced with challenge as he propped himself up on his elbows, chest heaving.

you didn’t reply. the smirk still tugged at his lips, but you saw through it now—the brief hitch in his breath, the way his body tensed just a little under your intense gaze. it was all the fuel you needed. gripping his shirt, you yanked it off in one swift motion, and before he could protest, his pants followed. you moved with precision, each action deliberate, each movement commanding. "wait—" he started, but his voice wavered slightly as you grabbed the back of his neck, pushing him face-first into the mattress. his words melted into a soft, almost desperate sound, his cockiness draining away as he felt the roughness of the sheets against his bare skin, your weight pressing down on him. the sound that escaped his lips was almost a whimper, and you reveled in the power shift.

the bed creaked under your weight as you hovered over him, the intensity of the moment palpable. his earlier bravado seemed to evaporate, leaving behind a raw and exposed version of the ben who had been so intent on testing your limits. you leaned in, your breath warm against his ear. the contrast between the softness of the bed and the firmness of your hold was almost cruel.

leaning over him, your hand grasped onto his waist. “gonna keep running that pretty little mouth of yours?” you purred, your breath brushing against the shell of his ear and making him shiver uncontrollably underneath you. the closeness, the deliberate press of your clothed bulge against his backside, was enough to make him tense, his body betraying his frustration with every subtle twitch. “seems like i’m gonna have to fix that, huh?” as you ground your semi-hard bulge slowly against his ass, the friction made him gasp, a soft, involuntary sound escaping his lips.

however, ben stayed defiant, he angled his head to glare at you, his jaw clenched, though there was a faint quiver in his lip. “oh, please. you don’t have the balls—“ but you didn’t let him finish. your hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of his hair and yanking it back sharply. the sudden, painful pull forced a gasp from his throat, his eyes widening in surprise and—was that lust? His breath hitched as you pressed your clothed, semi-hard bulge against his ass, the firmness of your body against his making him suck in a sharp breath. “you were saying?" you growled, your tone mockingly, but you didn’t let go, pulling his head back even further until his back arched beneath you, exposing the curve of his neck. you ground your hips against him, slow and deliberate. His body tensed, trying to resist, but you could feel the slight shudder that ran through him, the way his defiance was starting to crack. You had him exactly where you wanted him, and the satisfaction was intoxicating.

“fuck you,” he spat, though his voice lacked the venom it once had. you could hear the tremor in his tone, the way his breath caught in his throat as you tightened your grip on his hair, pulling his head back even further. “is that right?” you leaned in close, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear, sending another shiver coursing through his body. "guess i’m gonna have to shut you up, huh?” his protests turned to a low whine, his body betraying him as you ground harder against him, letting him feel every inch of your bulge through the fabric. he squirmed beneath you, but it wasn’t in resistance—it was something else, something needy.

for a moment, he stayed silent, his breathing ragged. then, in a last-ditch effort to hold onto that arrogance, he let out a breathless, “do your worst.” you chuckled darkly, leaning back just enough to slide a hand down his spine, feeling him tremble beneath your fingertips. “oh, you have no idea what you’ve just asked for.” with one swift motion, you reached beneath him, your hand wrapping around his pulsing cock, teasing the tip just enough to make him groan, his body instinctively pressing into your hand despite his resistance. “thought so,” you murmured, your grip tightening just enough to make him gasp again.

his gasp echoed in the room, but you didn’t stop. your hand moved with slow, deliberate strokes, teasing his cock as his body betrayed him. every twitch of his muscles, every shudder that ran through him was proof of how close he was to breaking, even if his mind refused to admit it. the defiant mask he always wore was cracking, piece by piece, under your touch. you could feel the heat radiating from his skin, the way he arched his back into your grip despite himself, his breath coming in ragged bursts. his fists clenched the sheets, knuckles white, as though holding on would keep him from completely falling apart.

but you weren’t about to let him keep his composure.

“you talk big,” you whispered against the back of his neck, your voice a low growl. your free hand moved to his hip, gripping him firmly as you ground your cock harder against his ass, letting him feel just how hard you were getting. “but you’re already falling apart under my hands, aren’t you princess? that mouth of yours isn’t gonna save you now.” his body jerked, the insult cutting through his pride, but instead of a saying anything, all he could manage was a sharp, breathy sound—a mix of frustration and arousal. “i—i'm not falling apart, fuck you.”

you chuckled, dark and low, amused by his stubbornness. “is that so?” your hand tightened around his cock, pumping him faster, but not enough to push him over the edge. you were going to drag this out, make him beg for it, break him down until there was nothing left of that bratty attitude.

he was panting now, his body betraying him more with every passing second. his hips bucked slightly into your hand, a reaction he clearly wasn’t in control of, and you smirked, knowing you had him exactly where you wanted him. “look at you,” you taunted, your voice dripping with dark satisfaction. “begging for it without even realizing it.” your fingers grazed over the sensitive head of his cock, drawing a strangled sound from his throat. “such a fucking slut aren’t you?”

his response was little more than a pathetic moan, muffled as he pressed his face into the mattress. his body was betraying him, every muscle trembling as your hand worked him with practiced precision. finally, after a long moment, he couldn’t hold back anymore. his voice cracked, breaking through the heavy silence of the room. “f—fuck… fine. you win.”

the words hung in the air between you, heavy with the weight of his surrender. but you weren’t satisfied with just that. “say it,” you demanded, your grip tightening around his cock, pumping him harder now, fingers grazed over the sensitive head of his cock, smearing the slick pre-cum and drawing a strangled sound from, pushing him closer to the edge. “i want to hear you admit it.” for a moment, he hesitated, his pride warring with his need. but in the end, his body made the decision for him, the overwhelming pleasure ripping the last remnants of control from his grasp. “i’m—” his voice was shaky, breathless, as he gave in. “i’m a slut, i’m your slut.”

a wide smirk spread across your face as the words left his lips, and you leaned down, your breath hot against his ear as you whispered, “that’s my good boy.” the phrase rolled off your tongue like silk, soft yet commanding. his body jerked beneath you, reacting to the praise despite himself, a low groan escaping him as he edged closer to release.

but you weren’t done with him yet.

slowing your strokes just enough to keep him teetering on the edge, you pulled back slightly, letting the tension build between you. he let out a frustrated whine, his body writhing under you, desperate for the release you were denying him. “don’t get ahead of yourself,” you murmured, your voice thick with control. “i decide when you get to cum.”

the noise that escaped him was somewhere between a groan and a growl, frustration evident in every strained breath. but he didn’t fight back this time. he was at your mercy, and he knew it. his body trembled beneath you, every muscle tense as he awaited your command, knowing he couldn’t take much more. you shifted your hips, grinding your clothed cock harder against his bare ass, the friction making both of you groan. he arched his back instinctively, trying to press himself closer to you, but you pulled back just enough to keep him on edge, leaving him straining for more. "please,” he panted, his voice a wrecked, shaky mess. he tried to twist his head to look at you, his eyes half-lidded with desire, but the firm grip you had on his hair kept him pinned in place. “please, i—”

“oh, now you’re begging?” you growled into his ear, cutting him off as you tugged his hair sharply, the action making him gasp. “no. you don’t get to beg now.” you released your hold on his hair, letting his head drop back to the mattress. he sagged, only to tense up again when your hands grabbed his hips, pulling him up, positioning him just how you wanted him—his ass perfectly angled for you.

you didn’t bother to ease him into it. with no warning, you lined yourself up behind him, the tip of your now fully hard cock pressing insistently against his entrance, teasing, stretching him without entering just yet. he writhed beneath you, his body reacting to the sensation with instinctive desperation. his breathing was shallow, his hands gripping the sheets like they were the only thing grounding him to reality. “tell me how bad you want it,” you whispered, your voice thick with dark amusement as you pushed just a little harder against his tight hole, still not giving him what he craved. the tip of your cock slid teasingly over him, rubbing slowly against his entrance, the pressure enough to make his body tremble uncontrollably. “c’mon, beg for it.”

he tensed beneath you, his pride keeping him silent at first, but you could feel the rapid pulse beating through his body, the hitch in his breath betraying how close he was to breaking. you pressed harder, the head of your cock pushing just enough to stretch him, but still not giving him the satisfaction of being filled. his muscles clenched involuntarily, his breath catching in his throat. then, just when you thought you’d have to force it out of him, he finally caved. his voice was low, breathless, barely above a whisper. “please… i want it.”

that was all you needed to hear. with one hard thrust, you buried yourself inside his tight hole, a deep, guttural groan escaping your lips as his hole clenched around your cock, the sensation almost overwhelming as he struggled to adjust to your size. he let out a sharp gasp, his entire body tensing under the sudden intrusion, his fingers digging into the mattress. for a second, there was no sound but his ragged breathing, broken only by the occasional whimper that escaped his lips.

you gave him no time to adjust, pulling back only to thrust into him again, harder this time, setting a brutal pace that had him gasping for breath. his body shook beneath you, every thrust sending shockwaves through him, and though he tried to hold on to his defiance, the way his body was responding told a different story. “you’re such a good boy, fuck—taking me so good.” you grunted, your hands gripping his hips tightly as you drove into him, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. His earlier cockiness was long gone, replaced by breathless moans that he could no longer suppress, each one more desperate than the last.

you didn’t ease him into it, didn’t give him the mercy of preparation. instead, you positioned yourself behind him, your now fully hard cock pressing against his slick entrance, teasing him, savoring the way his body tensed and writhed beneath you. his breathing was shallow, shaky, his hands clutching the sheets as if they were the only thing tethering him to reality. “tell me how bad you want it,” you murmured, your voice low and taunting as you rubbed the tip of your cock against his entrance, the pressure building with each teasing stroke. his body trembled, the anticipation practically dripping off him. “beg for it, c’mon.”

he remained silent for a moment, trying to hold on to the last shred of his pride, but you could feel the rapid pulse beneath his skin, his breath hitching with each subtle movement. you kept pushing, dragging the head of your cock slowly, torturously against him, making his legs twitch with frustration. you could hear his resolve breaking, like a dam about to burst. finally, he gave in, voice shaky, breathless. “please... i want it.”

that was all you needed. without hesitation, you pushed forward, burying yourself inside him in one hard thrust. the sensation of his tightness gripping you sent a shudder down your spine, and a deep, guttural groan escaped your lips as his body clenched around your cock, instinctively trying to adjust to the sudden intrusion. he let out a sharp, choked gasp, his body tensing beneath you, every muscle coiled tight as his fingers dug into the mattress. his breaths came in ragged, uneven bursts, punctuated by soft, desperate whimpers that slipped from his mouth before he could stop them.

you gave him no reprieve, no chance to adjust. pulling back, you thrust into him again, harder this time, setting a brutal pace that had him gasping for breath. his body shook with each forceful thrust, his fingers clawing at the sheets as though they could anchor him. despite the defiance that still lingered in his eyes, his body was betraying him completely—giving in to the overwhelming pleasure. “such a good boy,” you growled through clenched teeth, your hands gripping his hips tightly as you drove into him again and again. the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, drowning out his broken moans. “fuck, you’re taking me so well.”

his earlier brattiness had dissolved, leaving behind nothing but breathless, desperate sounds. his legs trembled with each rough thrust, his chest heaving as he tried to form words. all he could manage was a hoarse, “f-fuck…” his voice barely a whisper, drowned in the haze of pleasure and pain. “hm? what was that?” you chuckled, leaning forward until your chest was pressed against his back. your hand slid up the length of his spine, fingers digging into his skin, leaving marks that would linger long after this was over. “did i fuck you dumb already?” you spoke into his ear, your voice dripping with mockery as you rolled your hips, grinding deeper into him.

you could hear him trying to form a response, but all that came out were broken gasps and strangled moans. you gave his hair a sharp tug, forcing his head to tilt back slightly, exposing the vulnerable line of his throat. “use your words princess,” you taunted, your breath hot against his skin. “you had a lot to say earlier.”

“i... i want to cum,” he gasped, the words spilling from him in a wrecked, needy tone. his body was trembling beneath you, his cock twitching with every thrust, the tension in his muscles telling you just how close he was to unraveling. you grinned wickedly, sliding one hand down to wrap around his cock, stroking him in time with your thrusts. the added sensation sent him spiraling, his hips bucking uncontrollably as you worked him closer and closer to the edge.

“please... fuck, please,” he panted, the desperation evident in every word, his voice barely holding together under the onslaught of pleasure. his head lolled to the side, eyes glazed, mouth hanging open as he teetered on the brink of release. you could feel him tightening around you, his entire body trembling as he hovered on the edge. his breaths were shallow, ragged, each one punctuated by soft, pleading sounds as he clung to the last threads of control. but it wasn’t long before he broke.

with one final, brutal thrust, you drove him over the edge. his body went rigid, back arching sharply as he came with a shuddering groan, spilling over your hand. his muscles clenched around you, the aftershocks of his orgasm rippling through his entire body, making him twitch and writhe beneath you. but you didn’t stop. you continued thrusting into him, riding out his orgasm, feeling every tremor that shook his body. he was a mess beneath you—spent, shaking, and overwhelmed—but you weren’t done. not yet.

you pounded into him relentlessly, chasing your own release as his body went limp under your weight. his chest heaved with ragged breaths, his head lolling forward as he moaned weakly, the overstimulation making him whimper. his legs trembled, barely able to hold himself up anymore, but you kept going, gripping his hips hard enough to leave bruises.

only when you were sure he was completely spent, shaking and exhausted beneath you, did you finally let go, allowing yourself to succumb to the overwhelming pleasure that had been building inside you. with a deep, guttural groan, you buried yourself inside him one last time, releasing with a force that made your entire body tremble. you stayed there for a moment, your cock still buried deep inside him, your chest pressed against his back as both of you panted, struggling to catch your breath.

finally, after what felt like an eternity, you pulled out, watching as he collapsed onto the bed, completely wrecked. his chest heaved with every breath, his body trembling with the aftershocks of the intense pleasure that had just ripped through him.

you leaned over him, brushing a sweat-soaked strand of hair away from his face, your voice soft but laced with a dark satisfaction. “next time you run that mouth,” you whispered, “you’d better be ready for the consequences.” pressing a final kiss to the back of his neck, you rolled off him, leaving him there—panting, spent, and trembling from the intensity of it all.

𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐖𝐓𝐅 © 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋.

#x male reader #eepwtf’s works !#the boys #soldier boy smut #soldier boy x male reader #top x bottom #busting a fat nut rn #soldier boy #soldier boy x you #x male smut #the boys smut

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demonicbaby666 · 3 months ago

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ii. The Date

Feelings Are Fatal Masterlist | Masterlist | iii

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Jennifer Jareau x fem!Reader

Words: 6.7k+

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, body issues, attempted drugging, internal conflict, fingering

Showers should be about cleaning yourself and ensuring no dirt clings to your water-streaked skin. In that process, it doesn’t hurt to smell like cinnamon, vanilla, or something more earthly, like lavender or rose. Yet, after the previous night, it felt more like you were trying to wash the mark of JJ off your skin rather than the sweat exertion had left behind. You scrubbed the purple marks tattooed against your thighs, neck and breasts till the flesh beneath was tender and raw. No part of you was left unscathed by brittle bristles.

The constant spray of water bled down your face, diluting your salty tears and carrying them down the drain. You watched, transfixed, as soap trickled down your chest, torso, then legs, thinking of how JJ had used her fingers to trace a similar path and how her touch was somehow suppler than liquid.

Maybe it was ten minutes, perhaps it was thirty, but eventually, when your fingertips pruned and your tear ducts emptied, you made your way out of the shower, leaving a trail of wet footprints leading to your bedroom. When you sat on the floor, towel splitting down the middle to reveal a slither of your stomach, your reflection stared blankly back at you in the mirror.

You made a habit of this, pointing out everything you hated about yourself, from the bags under your eyes and the ragged cut of your hair to how your thighs always found a way to touch one another and the chipped nail polish on your toenails.

‘You’re perfect.’

That’s what JJ had said. Looking yourself over, you did not feel the same. You felt dirty despite showering. You felt that not one part of you was ‘perfect’. Her lies made you sick. They echoed in your mind, ‘You’re perfect’ round and round, over and over, louder and louder, until your lungs burned, your eyes stung, and your knuckles blanched.

As it turned out, your supply of tears were not depleted in the shower.

An hour later, coffee filled the air, chatter hummed low in your ears, and caffeine helped you feel less like a living zombie. You’d painted your face with concealer, brushed mascara through your lashes and balmed your wobbling lip, begging yourself not to cry lest you ruin your makeup. By the time you were ready, checking yourself over in the mirror once again, you managed to crack a convincing smile.

The bell above the quaint shop door rang, and you tore your gaze away from the steam rising off your latte to the two women entering. Garcia led the pair, recognisable as ever with her bright attire and beautifully bizarre accessories. Behind her was someone undoubtedly as recognisable but not to the untrained eye. You only knew who it was because it was the same person you had spent the previous night and the following morning under, JJ.

Any semblance of normalcy you had managed to muster up disappeared instantly. Panic rose from the depth of your stomach, and you clung hard to the cup in your grasp, scarcely registering the burn of it till it was all too late, and you hissed in pain.

JJ was by you in a second, taking your inflamed fingertips in her hands and assessing the damage.

“You need to be more careful,” she chided, thumbing over reddened skin.

After quickly checking that Garcia was busy chatting with the young barista, JJ raised your hand to her lips. She kissed each finger softly, leaving you breathless and wide-eyed when she laid your entwined hands on her lap and thanked Garcia - who returned with a bright smile - for paying for their coffees.

“Sorry for gate-crashing.” JJ turned to smirk at you. “I needed a bit of a pick-me-up after a long night. I hope you don’t mind.” She had the audacity to flick one of her eyebrows up and down.

“No, no,” you spluttered, cheeks turning rogue as you struggled to find the right words, “It’s okay. It’s just, well I-”

Garcia happily interjected, and you would have thanked her for it had you not seen the words form in her mouth and detected the dread they would bring. You knew this would come up. Hell, it’s why you were meeting with Garcia in the first place. Still, after the move JJ had pulled, caressing your burnt fingers with her lips, you were okay to go on without the reality check.

“JJ won’t mind us talking about your hot date tonight,” she said with a smile and a wink, turning to the blonde for confirmation, “Right?”

You didn’t dare look up.

It wasn’t that you expected JJ to be hurt or upset; it was quite the opposite. You couldn’t stand to see the encouraging look she’d give you or the elated smile she may offer at the prospect of you finding someone to date because that was JJ—the ever-supportive friend.

Her grip on your hand faltered. You forced yourself to be brave, to look up.

She almost looked… hurt. No, it wasn’t possible. It was her ego bruised, not her heart. She wasn’t like you. Her heart wasn’t on the line.

“Go for it.” She shrugged, looking to the side, uninterested.

“It’s a friend of a friend from work.” You were unsure why you needed to justify going out on a date to JJ. She clearly didn’t care, and you were single, after all. That didn’t stop you from reassuringly squeezing her hand and continuing. “She’s been pestering me for weeks, and I felt bad. That’s all.”

Like ice out on a summer day, you melted when JJ gave you a sympathetic smile. Poor little you, so limited in options you had to rely on the kind help of friends to find anyone that could possibly want you. It’s probably why she kept you around—pity.

“You should stop being so nice,” JJ said rather bluntly, splitting her gaze between the wailing espresso machine and Garcia—who looked slightly puzzled.

“I thought you said you were looking forward to tonight?” Garcia scowled.

Once again, you'd most likely shown your hand. This time, it was being so nonchalant about your date. Of course, a hundred dates would never change the fact you'd always belong to JJ. Hell, a hundred tearful mornings would never change that; not even a hundred rejections would. But no one needn’t know of that, so it became imperative to cut your words from gold.

“I am. It’s the getting ready part that’s tedious.” You did not mention that it was all too easy the previous night to jump out of bed and doll yourself up for JJ. “Plus, these guys only want one thing most of the time.” Finishing off with a deep sigh, you took a well-deserved swig of caffeinated goodness and hummed appreciatively as it warmed the empty pit in your stomach.

“Why not?” Garcia laughed, getting a little louder when you and JJ shot her twin looks of perplexion and shock. “I mean,” she sang. “Why not go for it? Have a little fun. Live a little. Fuck the guy.”

JJ choked on her coffee.

Finally, your hands broke apart in favour of ensuring the liquid lodged in JJ’s throat did not linger long enough to suffocate her.

“Strictly speaking, I’m not into the whole one-night stand thing,” you replied, patting JJ’s back.

“Come on!” Garcia exclaimed, looking to the recovering blonde for aid. “Tell her. She needs to get laid.”

JJ choked again. This time on thin air.

When JJ did finally find her voice, it was raspy and scathed. “I think she should do whatever will make her happy.”

Five years' worth of happy memories washed over you, times where you’d smiled, where you laughed, and most treasured—the ones you felt you finally belonged. They almost all had JJ in them, at the forefront or the sidelines, bringing about steady streams of merriment.

How were you supposed to tell her that she made you happy and that being with her would grant you the joy people only find in fairytales? You couldn’t.

She wouldn’t understand. She’d want to stop what you two had and keep her distance in case she gave you the wrong idea–that she slept with you for any reason other than calming her avid sex drive.

“I guess we’ll have to see what tonight brings,” you muttered, bringing your coffee to your lips and pointedly avoiding both women’s gazes.

—

As it turned out, the evening wasn’t off to a bad start. After coffee, JJ and Garcia returned to your apartment and helped you choose what to wear. Garcia was far more enthusiastic about taking on the role of your stylist, while JJ remained quiet, nodding her head at most outfits and only showing slight disdain for the more flashy picks.

Sitting at the populated bar, the unsettling image of JJ lingering at your door plagued your mind.

Glass clanked at your side and to your front. The classical music caged in wall-mounted speakers struggled to drown out the ruckus of drunken laughter.

Her lips were screwed shut, and her posture rigid as she took on the appearance of a skittish animal, ready to run at a second's notice. There was something stuck in her throat, a clump of words she seemed to fight to hold back and get out simultaneously.

The distinct crunch of metal scraping against ice jostled you for a moment. Like a cat to a mouse, you did not remove your gaze from the cubes haphazardly thrown into a highball glass, the cling satisfying in your ears. You watched as mint leaves joined two succulent slices of lime, both soon drowned by a hefty amount of clear liquor and finally topped with a sticky sugared syrup. The bartender took little care in dumping the cocktail in a metal cup, shaking it up and down with even less caution and paying no mind to the spillage leaking down his arms.

Again came the scoop of ice, with fresher, newer, untouched cubes for the misty glass. The drink was poured through a strainer, and the deformed, melted ice that served its purpose was thrown out. Used and forgotten.

In the end, JJ never did get the words out. Instead, she let out a little puff of air through an artificial smile that could be mistaken for a laugh if it weren’t for the lack of amusement in her eyes. Muttering a quick “Have fun” and a quiet “be safe”, she left.

The sullen slink of her back haunted you as you watched a young man approach you, matching the description given of your date.

His hair was an ashy black, the colour you’d see at the end of a haunted alleyway in the late hours of night. Every man, woman and child knew better than to venture in, yet none could deny the urge to take the risk. He was slim and tall, his stubble well-groomed. The line from alabaster skin to coarse wisps of brown hair looked almost painted as it cut contours down the side of his face, making him look slightly like a film noir villain. Nonetheless, it did suit him.

He seemed pleasant, a little fidgety, his hands clasping and unclasping air, but that was to be expected. It was a first date, after all.

When he sat down, bringing with him from outside the fragrance of rain and bark, conversation flowed surprisingly well. It was nowhere near comparable to the tete-a-tetes you share with JJ. But the convergence between topics wasn’t forced or awkward. You thought it was nice for a brief time; the voices in the back of your head were eerily quiet, and the constant jibber jabber forcing you to dissect everything you planned to say or had already said was quashed. It was something you could get used to—peace.

On the last swallow of your drink, weeds began to sprout, and the guilt started to kick in alongside the woozy effects of rum. His mouth was moving, and your ears were ringing, and you could think of was JJ. How being there, sitting at a bar, having fun without her on a date felt like betraying something you didn't have. You weren’t cheating; you’d have to be in a relationship for that. Yet, the dread in your stomach didn’t settle at the thought.

He was staring at your empty glass when you returned to the room, something unreadable and dark in his constricting pupils.

“You want another?” he asked.

“I probably shouldn’t,” you chuckled, a chill running down your spine. “I’m going to run to the restroom.”

As your heels touched the floor, fingers wrapped around your wrist, holding you in place.

“Live a little.” His eyes were pleading–uncomfortably so. His fingers bit harder into your wrist than strictly necessary, and you nodded. If only to get yourself out of this uncomfortable predicament, you’d abide by another person's wants. “Sweet,” he said with a smile that failed to meet his eyes, “I’ll order you another for when you get back. It’s on me.”

You pulled your hand out of his callus grip, making for the bathroom with a quick thank you.

It was weird. After leaving that situation, alarm bells should have been ringing blaringly loud. However, you found them to be a distant shrill looming in the backs of your ears. What, unsurprisingly, occupied your every thought was JJ. You thought back to how her hand would never hold you with such brute force, how her smiles were genuine and lit up her eyes. As you reached to halt the steady water flow from the tap, you thought of her perfume–the full-bodied scent that had the air of walking into an apothecary. It was so visceral you could smell it even then.

The door swung open.

Darting your eyes up into the mirror, staring at the straight-backed figure behind you, it started to make much more sense why such a thing happened.

“What are you-”

JJ left no space for you to question her presence or her crashing of your date. She took you by the hand and pulled you towards the door. “We’re leaving.”

The cubby in which relief once sat at seeing a familiar face emptied. Confusion and irritability at the audacity of JJ’s rash actions now took its place.

You yanked your hand back, ignoring the dejected look she shot you at the mere thought her touch could burn you so. The hurt didn’t settle for long on her face. Instead, her nostrils flared, her ears lit up red, and she wore the distinct look of a parent squabbling with a petulant child.

Who did she think she was? Barging in and acting like you were at fault for not complying immediately.

“What the hell has gotten into you?” you screeched.

It was strange to see her this way–out of sorts and bordering on berserk. Her eyes were frantically moving to and from the door like someone was about to burst through and steal you away. You briefly wondered if she was like this at work. It was no secret that JJ worked for the FBI. After all, it was the stress of her job that led you to her bed often. She needed an outlet, and you were it. Still, you’d think working in such a high-stakes environment would train you to have better etiquette than what she displayed then. Frankly put, she was a mess.

“Would you just do as you’re told for once?” she whispered, though she may as well have shouted with her brassed-off tone.

Try as you might have to school your features, it was useless. Your resentment for JJ, alongside her statement, was clear as day.

Propriety be damned. You took two steps forward and jabbed your index finger right to her sternum. “Firstly, you have no right to order me around. So no, I won’t do as I’m told.” Your eyes were unrelenting as they burned holes into JJ’s. “Secondly-”

As it turned out, getting in JJ’s personal space wasn’t a good idea. It made it incredibly easy for her to grab you by the waist, seek out your lips and back you up against the bathroom counter. If only to further prove her insistence on your silence, her tongue pried its way into the kiss, hot and hurried as it ran a muck of your brain and body, reducing you to nothing but a mess of wanton need.

She was harsh with her kisses, a contrast to her light touch. Her fingers curled around the edges of your waist, massaging knots out of your back you could never reach. All noise disappeared, leaving you both alone in a strangely intimate moment.

The lump of anger in your throat dissipated like morning fog by the time you broke away for breath. Looking up into JJ’s eyes something had changed–softened even.

“Do you trust me?” she asked, breathless as the tips of your noses kissed.

The answer came without hesitation, “Yes.”

JJ sighed in relief, pulling your body closer and delicately placing your hand on her chest. “Then please, let me take you home.” She was desperate. You could hear it in her breaking voice and feel it in the very depths of your soul.

“Okay.”

—

“Jennifer,” you began cooly, trying not to fidget in the passenger seat. “I need you to tell me what happened. Please.”

A small squeak came from your left–stiff leather strangled by sweaty palms. You looked over to see JJ’s knuckles white, her arms shook, and her jaw lined by silent fury.

When your request was not sated, and you were forced to sit quietly for another two minutes, feeling more and more like a scorned child, you were about to ask again. The blonde, however, beat you to it, finally finding her voice.

“The son of a bitch drink tried to put something in your drink,” JJ spoke with liquid fire, the words cutting at her throat till the final syllable came out broken and choked.

“Oh.” Your stomach dropped. The horror stories you’d heard, the news articles you’d read, none of them could have prepared you for the intense sickness that filled your stomach at the prospect of ever…

“There's no chance it was a multivitamin tablet?” you tried to joke, already feeling a familiar coldness creep up against the back of your eyelids. JJ only huffed, clearly finding no humour in the events that had come to pass.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

You spent the rest of the drive in silence, JJ focusing on the road and you focusing on the lights swimming through your bleary vision, too afraid to say any more lest the welding tears in your eyes find their way to freedom.

For years, you’d learned to look after yourself. No one had your back like you did. On a night out, you watched never to drink too much so you could get yourself home in one piece without burdening anyone. If you found your fridge empty and cupboards sparse, you’d haul yourself to the supermarket and trek back home carting heavy backs in your hands with zero complaints. When you felt like the world was on your shoulders and even the slightest thing would throw you off balance, you’d hide away and recuperate till you were sure the melancholy had evaporated and soaked into the sheets you’d finally found the energy to throw into the washing machine.

Then you met JJ.

Over five years, she crept into your life and carved away the belief that you had to do everything alone. You hadn't realised, but sitting in her car, she had saved you not just from a night that could have ended very badly but from yourself.

When you went out, she would watch over you, dance with you, and encourage you to indulge because, by the end of the night, she would find you safe passage home. By the time you’d reach home, there would always be a text waiting to confirm you got in, and if left unanswered, a call would shrill through the silence, and her voice would turn from worried to calm at the reassurances you'd offer.

Often, JJ would mention the sad sight of your fridge by the end of the week, the one to whip her phone out and compile a list you’d both visit in the grocery store after she’d convinced you to let her drive you. However, you were proud that she had only managed to trick you into letting her pay a handful of times.

“I get paid more than you,” she’d say, or, “I’m going to eat some of this stuff, too.”

To which your comebacks were, “And I’m smart about how I spend.” or “I only buy vegetables to make myself feel good. If you didn’t eat the healthy crap, it’d go bad, so technically, you’re doing me a favour.”

You still shut the world out when life got tough. The only difference now was that JJ seemed to always find a key. You wouldn’t cry nearly as much when she stayed quiet beside you on the couch, eating from your favourite bowl (that you refused to share with anybody else), content to watch your comfort films for the umpteenth time.

You didn’t want to lose that. You couldn’t lose her. Ever.

The landscape outside was dark, and it took you a second to realise JJ was pulling into the parking lot to your apartment. Something inside you, call it survival instinct or weakness, recoiled at the image of a sad, lonely girl withering away piece by piece with each lonesome stride she took through the halls of her once warm home. You didn’t want to be her. Not again. Not when you’d fought tooth and nail to abstain from falling back into the trap of facile gloom.

You really shouldn’t. It was late, and you were emotional. The words slip out. “Can you stay?” you asked, reaching to twine your fingers through JJ’s. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Her eyes showed no doubt when she immediately nodded and held tight to your hand.

“Always.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

It was hard to look away from her, harder to remind yourself she was not fluent in the language your gaze spoke. The hardest part was to pry yourself away from JJ’s pillowed touch and exit the car.

As it always was with JJ, you didn’t have to wait long before she was attempting to alleviate some of your distress. Fingers trailed up your palm and clamped around the divot of your thumb as you climbed the steps to your apartment, JJ close by your side. The sound of your footsteps echoing filled the silence of the drafty stairwell, sound waves vibrating off the walls and fading down, down and down till you reached the second floor and hastily made your way to the haven that was home.

With shaky hands, you reached for the keys in your bag. There was no need, however. JJ already had the spare wedged in the lock, turning the mechanism till you heard that satisfying click.

When you stepped inside—your company hot on your tail—no warmth greeted you. You did not suddenly feel safer or any less stained from the events of the evening. You felt empty, numb, and tired. Not the physical tired, the one you could sleep off; it was the type of exhaustion that burrowed deep into a person's bones, deep into their minds, till even the easiest of tasks became an unwinnable battle.

You stood, unmoving, staring at a lone droplet of water hanging precariously off the kitchen faucet.

“You should take a shower and get into something more comfortable.” You heard JJ say from behind you. Her voice was as cautious as the small steps she took towards you. “You’re probably still in shock.”

The frayed string you were hanging on by snapped.

“Don’t treat me like a victim,” you coldly retorted, keeping your back to the blonde.

“I’m not.”

You scoffed at the blatant lie.

“I’m treating you like a person I,” she clipped her mouth shut, taking a moment to breathe in and out through her nose. “Like a person I consider my closest friend.”

Friend. The word should not have stung. It was, after all, the truth.

“Fine,” you sighed. Too tired to process any more of the hurt the night might bring, you walked straight to the bathroom and locked the door.

By the time you finished showering, feeling no less clean than when you entered, your skin was raw and red from the combination of scolding water and the force you used to press the shower cloth against your flesh. The tenderised meat of your limbs should have pained you. It should have left you feeling as agonised as a skinned animal. Instead, you felt nothing.

Standing in the doorway, donned in an oversized sleep shirt and underwear, one step away from the open corridor leading to the kitchen and modest longue, a tear tumbled down your face. One became two, and two became many. In a matter of a few seconds, you were openly weeping, dropping to the damp floor and burying your head between your bent knees.

Your sobs ripped at your throat. As much as you wanted to stop, you couldn’t. The anguish kept coming in mammoth waves, wracking your body from head to toe, crushing your ribs and suffocating your lungs.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I’m sorry.”

Over and over. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’

You vaguely registered ruffling from the longue, the dull thud of scurried footsteps.

You couldn’t separate yourself from the pain. It was all-compassing, surrounding you like a violent tempest, blurring all of your senses till all you saw was a world awash in grey.

You didn’t look up when you felt JJ near. You couldn’t. Your neck was icily stiff, and though your eyes were strained from staring at the empty space between your feet, nothing was left in you to force them elsewhere.

When JJ positioned herself behind you, you couldn’t help but collapse against her sturdy chest. You were so far detached from reality that you could only hope her body would be the tether to something tangible.

“I’m so sorry.” Your apology came out broken and winded.

“You have nothing to apologise for,” she cooed, turning your body to the side. She lifted your knees over her thigh as she cradled you in her arms and rested her chin on your partially damp hair.

“I was a bitch,” you sniffled, nuzzling into the crook of her neck.

“After what almost happened tonight, you think I care about a little sass?” JJ chuckled, pulling you from under her and holding your face between her palms. “You’re stubborn and hardheaded,” she whispered, tucking a dangling strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re also strong as hell.”

“JJ, you don’t have to-”

“Let me finish.” She pinched your chin between her fingers and thumb, intent on keeping your gaze unwavering. “You’re probably one of the few people who is even worse at asking for help than I am. But tonight, you asked me to stay, and that’s what I will do.” Her eyes were resolute. “Even if I have to be your metaphorical punching bag, even if I have to be a pillow for you to cry on, hell, even if you want me to be a fly on the wall, I'll do it. I’ll do whatever you need, be whatever you need me to be.”

The unshed tears in your eyes were forming for entirely different reasons now.

This wasn’t what you had with JJ. Maybe it was a couple of years ago or even six months ago when her embrace wouldn’t turn you to liquid. Absently, you noted you missed the times when her smirk would send butterflies to your stomach and turn you shy, not splash the blank canvas of your mind with explicit memories. You missed the times when she could say or do anything, and the worst outcome would be a little blossom of hope in you would decay.

Now, hearing everything you ever wanted, having her in such an intimate way, was unbearable. It’d been what you’d dreamed of for so long., Or so you thought. Whatever this was between you and JJ was a far cry from what you wanted.

Thinking about the obscure nature of your relationship never helped settle the uproar of unpleasant emotions, and it certainly wouldn’t help rid you of the agonising feelings you were experiencing then. You couldn’t do this to yourself, not at that moment. It was time to be selfish and find use in the turmoil of heartbreak when it could be used to combat the blight of nothingness weighing heavy on your body and mind.

You didn’t think twice about it. Surging forward, you wrapped a hand around JJ’s neck and pulled her to your lips.

You could tell she was hesitant at first. Her kisses remained unrushed, and her hands were stock-still on your face and waist. But what she held back, you gave, licking into the seam of her mouth as you rose to bracket her thighs with your knees.

The only material between your cunt and the rough denim of JJ’s jeans was your boyish cotton underwear, making it all too easy to grind down and find something other than anguish you could finally feel–pleasure.

“Are you sure?” JJ broke away to ask, concern intricately sewn into the furrow of her brow.

“Please.” You sounded small, even to yourself and surely to JJ also. Unsurity was not something you needed to bring into the fold. “I need you,” you said, not a single ounce of apprehension in your voice.

There was a risk to this, and both you and JJ knew it. You knew it as you pressed her fingers against the squishy jut of your tummy. You knew it as you guided her hand to the waistband of your panties, down, down and down. You ignored it as she took over and lowered her touch into your slit.

“I need you to touch me,” you pleaded.

She closed her eyes, flexing her arm around your waist. Releasing a heavy breath, she asked, “Where?”

As though that was even a question.

“Everywhere.”

On her next breath, JJ wriggled her digits into the tight space between cotton and heated flesh, taking your slick over her fingertips and diligently distributing it. She moved unhurried, feeling you quiver with each uptick motion, never quite reaching the bundle of nerves that lay at the apex of your cunt.

Ordinarily, you might have minded the languish that accompanied every stroke, belligerently angled your hips back to right JJ’s touch. That night, you came to appreciate it. Each imparted touch warmed your belly and filled you with a sense of calm one might find standing at a cliff edge, watching a world move through parted clouds and finally learning what it is to breathe a fresh breath of air.

The seconds ticked by, and soon, you found yourself growing overly wet from the teasing and testing. Your desire soon became unignorable, trickling down JJ’s wrist and the side of your stretched panties. Ready for more but not desperate enough to beg, you set free a whine as your walls constricted and clenched around nothing.

A hint like that did not go unnoticed. Not with a sharp mind on the receiving end. The blonde bent a knuckle and slipped a single finger inside you, prolonging the subtle bliss with three shallow thrusts that all ended with the sharp shock of your sweet spot being hit.

Her balmy lips drew you in, kissing you soundly to swallow up the meek sounds spilling out of your agape mouth, and whilst successful in shushing you, nothing JJ was doing aided in quieting the cyclone looming large in your belly. You felt her, seated deep within you, exercising restraint with each curl and swirl of her finger.

Time turned fickle, the progression from one digit to two lumbering, but it was a losing battle to fight against what you knew you needed and, by extension, what JJ additionally knew. Her holding back wasn’t jarring or vexing. Her actions were nurturing and diligent, ensuring that when the time came for her to slip more of herself inside you, pumping gently, you were present and pliant, able to acquaint yourself with every barrel of dynamite that exploded within your body.

The cacophony of whimpers, moans, and cries ricocheted off your apartment walls, mixed with JJ’s racing breaths, creating a chorus to the harmonious soundscape that swallowed the noise of your mind. She was a musician, a maestro, and you were her muse. The undulating thud of your blood racing, pounding against your chest and racing in your ears, was a metronome, garnering speed with every pulse till it surpassed the speed of JJ’s timely strikes.

She brushed the pad of her thumb over your clit, pulling away to watch your feature contort and your resolve crumble with a broken cry.

“I know, baby,” JJ whispered, her breath warm against your chin, then hot against the centre of your throat, kissing, nibbling and sucking a linear path to where you felt your pulse strongest.

Biting your nails into the fabric of JJ’s shirt, you rode her fingers, grinding back and forth till the dull ache of floorboards biting at your knees was non-existent compared to the crescendo leading to your peak. She met every shift of your hips with a flick of her wrist, keeping you steady with her hand on your waist as she found that rough patch of flesh and latched onto it with persistent taps.

The light show obscuring your vision was blinding, forcing your eyes tightly shut. Trickling warmth surging from your belly that was once lulling and light transformed into a fierce, fiery beast spewing lava directly into your bloodstream.

You snapped a hand to the back of JJ’s head, on the precipice of breaking, intent to only do so with her swallowing your rapture. It was not graceful or particularly pretty when you dragged JJ to you, teeth clawing at her lips, tongue unabashedly seeking passage into the opening of her mouth. It was primitive and carnal. It was the last stepping stone to euphoria.

You shattered, shaking, swearing with the slide of your tongue against JJ’s you wouldn’t let a day pass where you didn’t think of this moment and how she could make you feel so whole by breaking you apart.

You held yourself up for as long as possible, fighting a losing battle against the tremors wracking through your legs, torso and chest, if only to live in the slow kiss between you and JJ a little longer. She was a sip of whiskey after a long day, smoky in your throat, heavy in your chest and hot deep in the crux of your gut, the perfect medium between keeping one's senses addled and delivering a gentle kick hard enough to keep you in the now. Eventually, when your head was too heavy to hold, you unburdened yourself onto JJ.

Beyond the stars dancing in the black of your vision, you rewrote the evening. It was not a man cast in shadows that greeted you at the bar; it was the woman whose hand was now caressing the back of your neck, her fingers still inside your twitching walls, curling and unfurling to prolong the aftermath of your orgasm. She’d approach you, trailing in the smell of roses and the carefree aroma of an autumn breeze, before leaning down to greet you properly with a chaste kiss. You would crave nothing more than that because, in this world, you had everything you ever needed.

She’d talk, and you’d listen. Stories recounted about her day would drown out the hum of nearby chatter, the constant clattering of glasses placed down on tables and ice shaken over the bar would all fade to nothing as you’d be transported to a briefing room, a crime scene or even a desk where you could vividly picture JJ hunched over paperwork huffing, puffing and sighing.

She’d sneak you off into the bathroom and kiss you again. The desperation of her glueing you to the counter, needing to find a way to get you away, would be absent. She’d push up against you because it was what she solely desired. The excitement of knowing she would return home with you no matter what the night brought was the only reason her hands never found one place on your body to settle.

You’d steal glances and touches in the car, giddy like two children, knowing they were misbehaving. Impatient upon arrival to your apartment, she’d take your hand, sprint through door after door, dragging you behind her up the stairs with little else other than your naked form on her mind. She’d pull out her key, not the spare, her key, and pull you through the gates of heaven. She’d pull you home.

Startled out of your stupor by the light tap on your thigh, you straightened your spine and rose your head to see JJ offering you a light smile. Her eyes fixed on the corridor over your shoulder, sliding to the right where the head of your couch peeked into sight. It was like a thunderbolt of realisation hit you; you could feel the pins and needles running through her legs. Having to hold you up for the better part of your little pick-me-up session, her position on the wonky bathroom tiles could have been better.

“Oh!” you exclaimed, scrambling to rise to your feet and extending your hands out to help JJ up. “Sorry, I know I’m not exactly light.”

There was a slight chance you had underestimated JJ’s ability to withstand such a cramped position. As soon as she was up, your hands were wound over her shoulders, and your legs swept from the floor to be wrapped around her hips.

“JJ!” You squealed.

She silenced you with a stern ‘shh’ and, with little effort, walked the both of you through the narrow corridor. The gesture was far too domestic, especially when you cosied your nose to the side of her throat and breathed her in.

—

Two hours later, when JJ had fallen asleep against the back of the couch with one hand snaked under your shirt resting on your belly and the other under your head, did you begin to grasp the severity of what had occurred.

Somewhere along the line, you’d let your feelings bleed into logic, let fantasy pollute your senses till it was too late, and you’d stupidly begged JJ to take you when you were open and vulnerable. Maybe it was when she kissed you in the bathroom. Or in the car when you recounted everything she’d done for you to bring you out of your shell. Perhaps it was when she proved, once again, that she’d always protect and stand by you.

Whatever it was, it was a mistake to give in. It meant ruination.

It wasn’t a feat to stand above the sofa and admire the sleeping angel whose hand now inhabited the space you once filled, pick out each indentation on her soft cheek and match the patterns to the offending ruffled pillow case under JJ’s head. It felt like your very own game of Spot the Difference. A thought struck you then–had anyone else played this game? Did anyone else lie awake beside the blonde and map the invisible borders between each mole on her back? Did they receive stolen kisses in restaurant bathrooms, and if they did, did they hold as much weight as they did to a love-sick puppy like yourself? Were they reliant on the night to bring them to JJ, or were they good enough to have her whenever? For JJ to want them in ways she’d never want you?

It hurt to breathe. It hurt to walk away and shut the door on the person whom you loved. It hurt to close your swollen eyes to the blistering image of JJ in bed with somebody else. You found yourself doing all these things anyway.

Taglist: @sincerestlove @hot4milfs @chestnutninny @theoneforhobbies @lez-talk1 @obsessedwjill @wastdstime @hopelesslyfallenninlove @luna7-7 @fanficreadinglesbian @ara-a-bird @blueredg52 @blkmxrvel @allofphii @coffee-is-my-oxygen @marinawolf @blkmxrvel @iheartdilfssss @spencerreidgubler @spencerreidsknee | Click here to be added to the series taglist

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nixiefics · 6 months ago

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Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Reader

Warnings: Smut, public sex, p in v, cunnilingus, rough (if you squint)

Aegon is a man obsessed.

Ever since the incident in his chamber a mere two nights ago, he cannot not rid himself of the feel of you. How your hair brushed his cheeks, how soft your skin was against his hand and your smell - it was as if you had cast a spell to have it constantly follow him around.

He imagines your giggles as a response to a different kind of touch and groans; it would seem as if he would be in a constant state of arousal until he could devise a plan to rid himself of these thoughts. It's slightly embarrassing that he cannot control himself - like a little boy discovering the pleasures of women for the first time.

Gods, he has known the pleasures of women for years and yet the mere thought of you seems to cause his body to overload with raw hunger. He could have you for an eternity and it would still not be enough.

You are giggling with a lady he does not recognize, a plain thing, about something or another but all Aegon can focus on is the delicious image of your mouth as a dollop of cream is left behind in the left corner. Your tongue darts out to clear it and Aegon wishes he could violently throw himself from the balcony to avoid the sudden rush of more blood to his lower body.

"Are you quite alright, Aegon?" Alicent appears suddenly and Aegon chokes on his own tongue, trying in vain to shift his body so as not to offend his mother. "You look pale, darling."

Your eyes dart to his with concern, a silent question. He wants to scream, rage at everyone to leave you alone with him - he wants to-

"The sun is bright today." he swallows as he gulps a particularly good vintage of Arbor Red; It's tasteless. "Too hot."

Alicent smooths a hand over his forehead and he wishes she would disappear - it feels more like smothering with her, sometimes. She takes a seat instead, on his left side and reaches for a pastry as she listens to you and the… whoever she is, prattle on.

"Going to my room." Aegon mumbles and drains his cup. "Tired of being outside." He needs release.

He nods at his guard and whispers something to another, and you watch him with a forlorn expression. He had been acting very strange lately and you wondered if you had taken your teasing too far the other night. It had been unintentional, just a testing of the boundaries, but he had swiftly ordered you to bed and slammed the door in your face leaving you feeling… hollow.

Your feelings for Aegon had always been immeasurable. He was the first boy who had given you attention - positive attention - and he was the only man you now felt secure around. You knew his marriage to Helaena was purely practical, a way to secure a claim he might or might not have, but you still felt jealous of your friend - that she knew him so intimately.

You blink as the sun glances off one of Lady Connington's bracelets. She was a fine enough conversationalist, but you would rather be with Aegon just laying down in an alcove somewhere and not saying anything. Gods, you need to ask a Maester for something for headaches.

"You are pale as well, Y/N." Alicent sighs, "Have you and Aegon been staying up late in the halls again?"

You want to snap that her son is grown and can do what he pleases but hold your tongue, lest you lose it. "No, Your Grace, I have not seen Aegon until this morning."

She frowns at your words and glances to where her eldest has disappeared. It is odd for you to not be in Aegon's company. Alicent had always been wary of your friendship with her son; feeling that it undermined everything she worked so hard to cultivate but it became evident that you did make Aegon happy and so she contented herself with the gossip of castle staff - you had not ever been abed together.

"Perhaps it is a summer flu, Your Grace." Lady Connington says, winking at you as she sips at her wine. "I have heard the smallfolk are getting light symptoms."

It is enough to divert Alicent's attention. Yes, that must be it; nothing untoward that a tincture from Maester Orwyle could not fix.

The night is warm, as only one in King's Landing could be. You're not sure how you managed it but you had found out from Aegon's sworn guard Ser Erryk that Ser Arryk had escorted him to the Dragon Pit. Aegon adored Sunfyre more than anything in the world and often snuck out to see him; when he wasn't in the Street of Silk, that is.

The Dragonkeepers eye you warily but allow you to pass into the caves unencumbered. Sunfyre was used enough to you that he would not cause much havoc. It is a familiar path as you step lightly past the lairs of Dreamfyre and the others, careful not to disturb their rest. The caves are sweltering, something you had never gotten used to, and you are grateful that you remembered to only dress in the lightest gown you had.

"Egg?" you call as you near Sunfyre's little corner. He is huddled against her side, eyes lazy as he clutches a bottle to his chest. No wonder Arryk had looked nervous outside.

"Wouldn’t let me take him out." Aegon slurs, "S'my damned dragon, can do what I like."

You smile and bow your head to the golden dragon, who is appraising his rider as if he had lost his mind - perhaps he had. "I doubt Sunfyre feels like a midnight flight, Egg. Why don't we just sit with him?"

Aegon hiccups and shakes his head, turning away from you as he takes another swig of his drink. He seems very upset with you and you are left speechless; not ever had Aegon gone without resolving a disagreement - not that you knew what this one was about.

Sunfyre adjusts himself as you approach, allowing you to perch against his leg and huffs a hot breath at you. If he could speak, you're sure he would be telling you to fix whatever is wrong with his rider.

"What is the matter, Aegon?" you ask tenderly, licking your lips to add some moisture to them. "You seem… put out by something."

He huffs and whirls to face you. "Women! I can't… why are you all so complicated?"

Taken aback, you laugh. It's not what he wants to hear and violently throws the bottle of liquor against the nearest wall, staggering to his feet.

"S'not fair, that… you all just get to hide your," he blinks for a moment and looks at you with a squint. "You can all just hide your hunger under dresses and pretty smiles. We… us men have to suffer the fucking embarrassment of being so… engorged! It's not fair!"

"You're not making sense, Egg." you whisper, hesitant that he might lash out in his drunken state. "I don't know what you mean?"

"I came in my pants." he yells, startling Sunfyre. The beast growls low and you swallow thickly as you move away tentatively. "Oh, sod it, you smug beast. You're allowed to have one over whichever pretty dragon you like! I came in my pants the other night from a stupid touch against her backside!"

You balk and shoot to your feet, not believing your own ears. "Aegon-

"You've bewitched me, Y/N." he is close now, the smell of mead on his breath almost too much. "You haunt my every thought - how you would moan and writhe… it's maddening."

You stand there, bathed in the eerie glow of the dragon cave, with its massive, shadowy form looming in the background. Aegon, his eyes glazed over from too much drink, sways slightly as he leans in closer to you. His breath, warm against your skin, carries the scent of ale and adventure.

In this moment, the air between you crackles with a tension that’s palpable, almost suffocating. You can feel the heat of his gaze, intense and hungry, as he inches closer, his lips mere inches from yours. The world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you in this enchanted cavern.

Your heart races with anticipation, your pulse echoing in your ears like a drumbeat. His hand reaches up, tentative yet eager, to brush against your cheek, sending shivers down your spine. Every nerve in your body tingles with anticipation, yearning for the moment his lips finally meet yours.

But just as your lips are about to touch, Aegon’s expression shifts. His eyes widen in alarm, and before you can react, he lurches forward, his stomach heaving. The spell is broken as he retches at your feet, the sound echoing off the cavern walls.

Disappointment floods through you, mingled with a hint of amusement at the absurdity of the situation. Sunfyre, observing the scene with a curious tilt of its head, seems to share in your bemusement.

With a sigh, you realize that this moment was not meant to be. Gathering your composure, you call Ser Arryk, who emerges from around the corner and observes the spectacle with a mixture of concern and amusement.

“Help me get him back to his room,” you say, your voice tinged with resignation. Together, you and Arryk lift Aegon’s limp form, carrying him out of the cave and back to his chambers, leaving behind the almost-kiss that never was. As you walk, you can't help but wonder what might have been, the taste of what almost happened lingering on your lips like a bittersweet promise unfulfilled.

Aegon avoids you for a week.

You've been on edge for what feels like an eternity. Every moment without his presence is a torment, a gnawing ache that refuses to be ignored. It's been a week since that almost-kiss, a moment suspended in time, fraught with anticipation and desire; leaving you standing there, lips tingling with the ghost of what could have been, while he stumbled off, retching embarrassingly in front of you.

Since that fateful moment, Aegon's been avoiding you like the plague. Your notes go unanswered and your attempts to bump into him accidentally-on-purpose met with swift evasions. The frustration builds within you like a storm, thundering in your chest with each passing day.

Finally, unable to bear the silence any longer, you decide to confront him. You track him down at his favourite tavern, where he sits alone in a back room, nursing a cup of his favourite Arbor Red. As you approach, he looks up, surprise flickering in his eyes before it's quickly masked by a guarded expression.

"We need to talk," you say, your voice trembling with pent-up emotion.

He nods slowly, gesturing for you to take a seat opposite him. The air between you crackles with tension, thick with unspoken words and unanswered questions.

"What's going on, Aegon?" you demand, your frustration boiling over. "Why have you been avoiding me?"

He sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I... I don't know," he admits, his voice tinged with regret.

"That's not good enough," you insist, your tone sharper now. "We almost kissed, Aegon. You've been avoiding me ever since. I need to know why."

He meets your gaze then, his eyes haunted with a mixture of longing and uncertainty. "Because I've wanted you for so long," he confesses, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I never thought you felt the same way. And then when we were finally close, I... I got sick, and I thought you'd be repulsed by me."

Your heart aches at his words, the vulnerability in his voice pulling at your own insecurities. "You're an imbecile," you whisper, reaching out to touch his hand.

He looks up, surprise flickering in his eyes at your touch. "I know," he says softly, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "But I meant what I said. You're the best thing in my life, and I want to make you happy."

A rush of warmth floods through you at his words, melting away the walls you'd built around your heart. "I want that too, Aegon," you admit, your voice barely a whisper. "I've always wanted that."

You sit together in the small room, Aegon's gaze meets yours, his eyes reflecting the warmth of the candle as he reaches out to gently cup your face in his hands.

The air is filled with anticipation, a tangible electricity that seems to crackle between you. With a tender smile, Aegon leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a delicate caress. The touch is light at first, a gentle exploration that sends a shiver of excitement down your spine.

But as the kiss deepens, the world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you entwined in a moment of pure connection. His lips are warm and inviting, a perfect match to the softness of your own as they move together in a dance of passion and longing.

You can feel the beat of his heart beneath his chest, steady and strong, matching the rhythm of your own. His arms wrap around you, pulling you closer until there's no space left between you, lost in the blissful embrace.

You moan as his lips feather their way over your cheek, down your neck and to a sensitive spot that makes you almost limp with pleasure. Gods, his lips feel good. His hands even more so because they travel from their spot on your waist and up, to cup your breast through your gown, and down to the curve of your behind. The flesh is lush in his hands and Aegon swears under his breath as you tug at his hair, a plead for more leaving your lips.

He hates the idea of taking you here, in a dirty tavern on the Street of Silk but his thoughts are sharply halted when your hand travels from his chest to his erection. Every sane thought he had harboured until then, disappears into thin air at the sight of your hand cupping him through his breeches. "Fuck."

He lurches forward, claiming your mouth again and you're left breathless as his hands dig into your arse, lifting you onto the table and scrambling to get his hands under your skirt. "You are a marvel."

He kisses his way down your neck again, nibbling that flesh that he so dreamed about for so long. It is more divine than he could have imagined and he groans as you tug at his curls again; just as Aegon's fingers reach down to hook into the seat of your underwear. His eyes are squeezed shut as he leans into you, smelling you, while his fingers drift over your pussy, searching desperately for a reaction.

His actions steal the breath from your very lungs as you feel the first sign of wetness begin to coat your underwear. He is in utter awe when he feels it. Quickly descending into a level of pleasure that he was not even sure existed, he murmurs in his desperate drunken haze, "I wish to play with you and taste you and fuck you until you’re barely able to speak-"

"God's, Aegon!" Your voice is hoarse and your cries reach a pitch that would be audible to the patrons outside. Aegon does little to stop them, in fact he encourages them, as his fingers push your underwear aside.

"So fucking wet," The warmth of his breath fans against your cheeks, his lashes fluttering as his thumb teases the treasure at the very cusp of you. Then his lips stop moving against your chest as he suddenly drops to his knees and stares up at you - it is a heady sight. His hands scramble for your skirts and you see him smile like a child who has been given a boiled sweet.

"If there is a heaven, woman, it is here." he mumbles, trailing his lips along your inner thigh gently. A soft moan falls from your lips as he swirls his tongue around your needy pearl, awarding you the attention he earlier denied.

“Aegon,” you moan, thighs clenching against his head.

His hands wrap around your thighs, pressing them to the table so he can continue feasting. Aegon’s tongue moves lower, dipping inside your centre, lips parting your folds. He moves his mouth in such a way, eating and kissing you all at once. The pleasure is almost too much to bear and as he pushes his tongue completely inside you, you begin to shake, almost reaching your peak.

You’re tugging at his hair with every movement, angling your hips just so and then…

"Fuck, love, look at how beautiful you are…" the scowl down at him as the feeling of euphoria starts to dim but he merely wipes his mouth sloppily before leaning in to kiss you again, whispering. "Don't pout, darling, you shall have what you crave but only when I say you can."

You hadn't even noticed that he had freed himself from his breeches until you feel his cock stretching out the beginning of your entrance. Aegon sinks into you with a stuttered gasp, lazily thrusting into your tight heat. The pain that comes from him splitting you clean in half is short-lived, pleasure creeping its way up your spine.

You cry out as he thrusts into you, hitching your leg around his waist as he rolls his hips into yours.

“Such a good girl,” he croons, as tears leak from the corners of your eyes, “look at that greedy little cunt, taking my cock so well.”

You throw your head back against the wood, arching your back as waves of pleasure wash over you, both from Aegon’s thrusts and the sweet words he whispers to you.

“You’re doing so well for me,” he praises, burying his face against your chest.

He suckles at your breasts, leaving scattered red marks across them that will surely bloom into purple bruises the following day. Dragging his hot tongue over your nipple he bites the puckered nub harshly and you tangle your hands in his hair, yanking harshly at the roots.

Aegon lets out a breathy laugh, slamming his hips against you until your jaw slacks and your grip loosens. He brings a hand to your throat, wrapping his fingers around it loosely. His rings are icy and you whimper, pupils blown with lust.

“Now I will never let you go.” Aegon taunts, the sound of wet slapping echoing throughout the room, “You are the sweetest addiction - one I would happily give every other one up for.”

You can only moan as he sloppily kisses you. You can feel your walls pulsating around his cock, stomach clenching so tightly you feel you may break in half.

“That’s it, take all I have to give you,” Aegon murmurs, as your walls flutter against him.

Your belly warms as your orgasm hits you, and with a few final thrusts Aegon pulls out suddenly, coating your stomach with strings of his pearly white release. He watched you as you drag your fingers through it before shoving them through your parted lips; savouring the taste of him with a moan.

You watch him, with curiously as he watches the way your fingers trace the shape of your lips. Then those perfect eyes meet yours and he drags himself from your between your legs, fixing his trousers and tugging your skirts back into place.

"To bed, then." he places an uncommonly tender kiss to your forehead. "I wish to devour you, still."

Hey everyone!

I just wanted to drop a quick note about something that really helps me out. If you’re enjoying my fanfiction, I’m thrilled to hear it! However, simply hitting the 'like' button doesn’t help spread my work for others to see and enjoy.

If you could use the 'reblog' button and share your thoughts in the comments, it would make a huge difference. Reblogging promotes my work to a wider audience, and your feedback (both the good and the constructive) helps me improve my writing.

Thank you so much for your support and understanding!

Best,

💕 Nixie 💕

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen smut #smut #hotd smut

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beauttifullife · 1 month ago

Text

Reckoning with Regret

But the other Agatha wasn’t done. Her voice rose again, raw and hysterical, each word lashing out like a weapon, her grief, her desperation, needing an outlet—and Rio had always been her favorite target.

“You don’t deserve him, Rio! If you’re giving up on him this easily, you don’t deserve to be a mother—”

Something inside Agatha snapped.

Her blood boiled, rage igniting in her chest like wildfire. She couldn’t listen to it anymore, not even from her own past self. She let go of Rio, stepping forward, positioning herself between the other Agatha and Rio, as if her very presence could block the assault—even though she knew the other Agatha couldn’t see her—could walk right through her if she wanted.

“ENOUGH!” Agatha roared, her voice shaking the air.

Magic crackled, flaring violently around her. It wasn’t hers she realized—it was Rio’s magic, a fierce, storm-like energy that pulsed through the room, powerful and electric, like a lightning storm ready to strike. It danced across Agatha’s skin, charging the air with raw intensity.

The other Agatha flinched, stumbling back, her hands flying up to shield her eyes from the sheer force of it. And then, slowly, cautiously, she lowered her arms, her eyes wide with terror. She stared ahead, confusion and fear etched into every feature as her gaze landed on Agatha—really landed on her.

She could see her.

For the first time, the other Agatha could see her.

The room hung in a suffocating silence, the storm of magic still crackling in the air as Agatha stood tall, her chest rising and falling rapidly, trying to hold onto control. Her heart raced, her fury curling through her veins like molten fire.

The other Agatha stumbled back, her rage fading, confusion and fear creeping into her eyes as she looked at Agatha standing before her.

“What—what is happening?” she stammered, her voice trembling. “Who are you?”

Agatha's shoulders heaved with barely contained rage, the emotions roiling inside her, threatening to explode. She took a slow, deliberate step forward, her gaze fixed on the terrified version of herself.

“I am you,” Agatha growled, her voice low and dangerous. She could feel Rio’s magic buzzing beneath her skin, but it was her need to protect that truly gave her strength. “And if you say one more word to her… just one more thing…”

She stepped even closer, her eyes burning with a fury that had been simmering for centuries.

“I promise you, I will rip out your heart with my bare fucking hands.”

The threat hung in the air like a blade, and the other Agatha, wide-eyed and trembling, took another shaky step back. The magic around them crackled louder, the tension in the room palpable, and in that moment, Agatha knew—she was in control now.

Rio’s soft exhale behind her was the only sound, a fragile reminder of what they were fighting for, of the love that still lingered beneath the layers of hurt and anger.

And Agatha wasn’t going to let anyone—not even herself—destroy that.

"She—" the other Agatha stammered, her voice faltering as the rage and certainty drained away, leaving only confusion and fear.

"She is your wife!" Agatha roared, cutting her off with a voice filled with fury. "She has walked by your side, supported you, built you up into the witch you are today! She has never doubted you—not once! She has followed you into flames and storms, on your reckless, senseless missions! She has saved you! Loved you! And never—never—left your side, even when you deserved it!"

The other Agatha flinched, visibly recoiling from the raw, unfiltered truth. Agatha could feel the weight of every word hitting her past self like a hammer, shattering the defenses she had built around her pain.

"Nicky—she won't—" the other Agatha tried, grasping desperately for some justification, something to hold on to, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

"She is his mother, you idiot!" Agatha hissed, stepping closer, her voice dripping with venom. "You grew him, yes, but her magic made him! She is his mother just as much as you are! From the moment he took his first breath, she was there! Every babble, every sleepless night, his first word, his first steps—everything! She was right there beside you—beside him!"

The fury surged in Agatha’s voice as she leaned in, her eyes locked on the terrified version of herself.

"She loves that boy with the same all-consuming fire that you do. She would never let anything happen to him. You know that!"

The other Agatha stood frozen, her breath shallow, her eyes wide as the truth of those words crashed into her. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. The accusations she had thrown at Rio suddenly felt hollow, like crumbling ashes in the face of the truth she couldn’t deny.

"You’ve never doubted her before—never!" Agatha pressed on, her voice unwavering. "You know she would burn the whole fucking world for him! She would never let anything happen to him!"

The room seemed to tremble with the force of Agatha’s words, her fury filling the space, leaving the other Agatha trembling, speechless, and powerless beneath the weight of her own guilt.

"Listen to her," Agatha said, her voice no longer a roar but a quiet, firm warning. It wasn’t anger now, but something softer—something more desperate. “She told you she can’t save him. She has never lied to you. She has always told you the brutal truth—even when you didn’t want to hear it.”

The other Agatha stood frozen, her eyes darting between Rio and the version of herself standing in front of her, tears welling in her eyes as reality began to set in.

Agatha took in a ragged breath, her voice trembling with the weight of the truth she had fought so long to avoid.

"She is telling you—she can’t save him,” Agatha whispered, her own tears finally breaking free as her chest tightened with the unbearable pain. “Stop blaming her.”

Her voice cracked, breaking under the emotional strain. She wiped her eyes quickly, but the tears kept coming, her heart aching as she stared at her past self.

“It’s not her fault,” Agatha cried, her voice shaking.

Agatha felt the words leave her, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, the weight she had carried for centuries—the anger, the guilt, the blame—began to loosen its grip. Each word was like a release, a crack in the iron walls she had built around her heart.

It wasn’t just for Rio.

It was for her.

She had needed to say it, to feel it.

Her chest rose and fell with deep, shaky breaths, but with each one, there was a sense of catharsis, of healing. The raw, jagged edges of her grief softened as the truth settled between them, like a balm on a wound that had never fully closed.

“She didn’t fail us,” Agatha repeated, her voice quieter now, filled with a kind of clarity she hadn’t known she needed. “She didn’t fail him.”

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blackdollette · 1 year ago

Note

reader who needs like at least 3 orgasms to be "done" and a highly sensitive chris who is trying so hard to hold back but has come like 6 times while shes only came 2 times :3

ohhh yes!!!

"got me feeling so much right now." | chris kenton

in my feelings. - lana del rey

✮⋆˙ [tags] @faesucksass @lustkillers @mayathepsychic1999 @josibunn @si1nful-symph0ny @livingdead-materialgirl @romanroyapoligist @ohyams-25 @oliviah-25

female!reader x chris

word count: 589

contents: unprotected p in v, oversimulation

his strained moans fueled your desire to have yet another orgasm on his leaky cock. he had passed his limit long ago, now reaching a state where he was completely drunk on your pussy. but he knew that he had to keep himself together just for you, so the only thing he could do was watch you as you used him for pleasure.

no matter how many times you cummed, squirted, creamed and gushed on his poor cock, you still found yourself chasing another rush. “s-so close, chris… just one more” you managed to whimper out as your wet, sticky mess dripped down his length as his hard balls slapped against your hole. chris rocked his hips up into you in an attempt to bring you to your orgasm faster, but this only sent another shockwave through him, making him release another load into your dripping cunt.

you threw your head back at the feeling of being filled up once again, putting a hand on his shoulder for support. chris tried his best to hold in his high-pitched whimpers, but the sight of you using his cock like this along with the feeling of your warm, tight pussy wrapped around him allowed them to slip from his parted lips.

you bounced yourself up and down on him even faster, failing to maintain a steady pace. chris was too far gone to be able to process a single thought. he was whimpering silent little “i love you…” or “feels so good…” as he mindlessly toyed with your pulsating bud. you could hear the lewd sound of movement underneath you, the whole situation making your entire body heat up.

you watched as chris squirmed and struggled underneath you. his warm precum made the perfect lube, allowing you to move up and down with ease. he threw his head back as a low groan emerged from his chest. his hands found your hips and he started moving you up and down on his raw cock. the pleasure was excruciatingly overwhelming for him, but he just couldn’t get enough.

he dumped huge loads into you, orgasm after orgasm, but you still weren’t satisfied. you could feel his body trembling underneath you, and the way his cock twitched helplessly inside of your tight walls. he stirred his length around your tight cunt, making you shudder. your skin slapped together at a rapid pace as you finally felt that blissful sensation coming once again.

he grabbed your hips firmly, surely leaving crescent-shaped marks all over you. you let out choked moans and whimpers as you felt your pussy clenched around his length. he moved his fingers back to your swollen clit, rubbing quick circles onto it as you rode him. you got louder as the knot in your stomach grew tighter by the second.

you leaned forward and moved your lips to his, making him swallow every one of your sweet sounds. and with that, your back arched as you reached your final orgasm. the long, drawn-out sensation made your eyes well with tears. he fucked you through your high, your pussy having drained every last drop of cum out of him, making this final orgasm completely dry for him.

you collapsed onto him, becoming a shaky mess as you desperately tried to catch your breath. after you finally came down from your high, you realized how rapid his heartbeat was. you looked up and saw him, passed out underneath you. you felt a twinge of pity for him, but he asked for it.

author's note: sorry this one took a while :(( but i hope you all enjoyed it!

#rory culkin #rory culkin smut #chris kenton #twelve #smut #lana del rey #444rockstargf

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jasmines-library · 10 months ago

Text

Teeth

Summary: (Requested by anon) When you get turned into a vampire while on a hunt, Sam and Dean are tasked with hunting it down while you battle your hunger and the copious amounts of blood loss.

Warnings: Blood, gore, hurt, throwing up blood

Word Count: 2.9K

◁◁ ▐ ▌ ▷▷

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ♫♬♪

It hurt. Or what little you could still feel hurt. Your mind and body was growing numb as you began to rot away in the dismal house atop the hill. The bonds around your wrists were no longer tight, though at one point they did bite into your wrist but were now loosened by your thrashing. But your captors had made no attempt to retie them despite the sunlight streaming around the drawn curtains that would have normally given you the perfect chance to slip away. The thought had crossed your mind often; many times as you pleaded for the harsh tearing at your neck to stop. As you pleaded for your brothers. But you couldn’t will your body to move, so you lay there weakly slumped against a pillar in the centre of the room.

Your captors were asleep, sheltering somewhere deep within the cave as you faded away slowly. You had grown used to their routine at some point, but now you were struggling to tell the minutes from the days. They had taken too much, taking pleasure in draining you of your blood; starting slowly at first and then ravishing in it, leaving you just enough to survive on. The countless marks still marred your skin, burning where they had so carelessly torn it away. knew the minute they opened their eyes they would feast and you would be a goner. Some part of you knew you should be holding out for your brothers; telling yourself that they would be here soon… but it had been…weeks? Since you were dragged away from them on the hunt and they were yet to show their faces. So insead, you continued to rot away, watching the shadows shift around the room as the sun dipped below the horizon, as you waited for your inevitable death.

You heard them before you saw them. Rioting they came flooding up the stairs taking no subtleties as they pranced around the room. Lights came flickering on to join the moon and replace the absence of the sun. The pack leader stalked over to you with a conniving grin, his boots clunking heavily against the wooden floor. When he moved to crouch down beside you, you tried to inch away but he just grinned.

“Oh pet. How pathetic.” He trailed a long fingernail down the length of your jawline.

“Go.. fuck yourself.” You tried to spit at him, but there was no venom dripping from your words as you had hoped; only a desperate plea that fell half short on your lips.

The vampire chuckled, joined by a chorus from across the room. “You know, it’s a real shame you killed our brother. I would have loved to have kept you around.” He moved closer to your neck, seemingly savouring the smell of what little blood you had left like it was a drug.

You could feel his lips smirk, flush against your skin before he sank his fangs into your neck and the scream that ripped from your vocal chords was so violent that you weren’t sure it had even come from you at first. It was so raw that you felt it rip up your throat as the vampire sank his fangs deeper than he had ever before. His fangs felt like a thousand tiny needles ravaging into your skin at once and the feeling consumed you; so much so that you nearly missed the smashing of the windows and angry shouts of those voices that you had yearned for.

Ripping his face away from your neck, the vampire snapped his face up to glare at your brothers, barely missing the machete that Sam swung aggressively toward him. But the vampire didn’t flee. Instead, he tore the binds from you and clutched you in front of him like a shield.

“Let her go.” Sam barked, aiming the machete at the vampire who snarled in his direction. Somewhere behind him, Dean was working on decapitating the remaining vampires. You could hear his grunts of effort as he swung his weapon.

The vampire chuckled, tightening his grip on you and forcing you to stand on woozy legs that could barely hold your weight.

“Let her go.” He repeated.

You attempted to squirm in his grip. “It’s rude to break into someone’s home while they’re eating, Samuel.”

Sam rolled out of the way just a second before another launched herself at him. He struggled as she pinned him down trying to snap at his neck. The head vampire took this as a chance to finish you off. Or so you thought. He threw you to the ground, pressing you to the floor as you tried to scrabble away. His fangs protruded menacingly and he leaned down, you squeezed your eyes shut preparing for the blinging agony, but it never came. Instead, he had bitten into his own wrist and the crimson fell in a ghastly contrast against his pale skin.

“No…” You murmured, turning to push yourself away but he had all of his weight pinning you down at the hips and even if he wasn’t, the little strength you had was only enough to claw you a few inches away.

Lowering his wrist, you tried to twist your head away, but your body failed you. You think you heard Dean from across the room, trying to fight his way toward you…but the minute his blood trickled onto your lips, you knew it was over. There was no point trying to retch the foul liquid away, but your body bucked as you tried to fight him off helplessly. Your body only slumped defeated against the ground when Dean managed to tackle the vampire while he was hauled up in his victory. He howled as Dean stuck him with the dead man’s blood and he keeled over to the side.

I only said it 'cause I know what it's like to feel burned out

It gets you down, we've all been there sometimes

But tonight I'll make you feel beautiful once again

“Y/N…” Sam dropped to your side as Dean moved swiftly to tie up the vampire.

“S’mmy?” You slurred… your vision wavered and your head pounded but you could see his sweep-away hair pooling over his shoulders as he hovered over you.

Sam tried to wipe away the blood that was stained around your lips. He knew it would make no difference to your condition, but the sight made him queasy. You reached up blindly to claw weakly at his flannel. “Shhh. You’re okay kid. We’re going to fix this…”

You blinked up slowly at Dean as Sam settled you against his chest. Your eldest brother reached out and smoothed your hair away from your face. You whimpered at his touch.

“We’re gonna fix this y/n/n.” Dean tried to reassure you, but the concern in his voice was far from masked.

Sam and Dean had raced you down to Baby as quickly as possible, tussling the vamp into the trunk. The ride was hell, as you clung into your life. Each time your eyes slipped shut, Sam begged you to keep them open and God how you didn’t want to, but the look on his face made you want to try.

As soon as you had been situated in the motel room and the vamp had been secured across the room, Dean rushed back out to gather the supplies they needed for the cure. He was hesitant to leave you in your state. A sweat had quickly broken out across your brow and you struggled to breathe as Sam clutched you to his chest, offering tender gestures as he ran his fingers across your skin, his eyes flickering between you and the vampire who although was weakened by the affects of the dead man’s blood, was watching the scene with a cruel smile.

You could already feel your body changing. Something within you ached deeply; everything hurt. Everything seemed too much. Dean had only been gone less than an hour, but your senses were already peaking. The light was too bright, Sam’s heart too loud, your skin too warm. And hunger… your stomach felt like it was being ripped apart by a pack of hellhounds and you found little relief in curling up in Sam’s lap.

A whimper escaped your lips as agony shot through your body. You knew what you wanted. What you needed. You craved it; Sammy’s blood. You could smell it and hear it as it pumped around his body. You needed it.. But you knew it was so wrong.

His gentle touches had begun to feel like acid being doused over your skin and soon you were drowning in the pain that he was causing. You pushed yourself away from your brother, overwhelmed completely by everything that was happening. You tried to back yourself away into a corner, but your legs gave out halfway as you went down with a cry of pain and anguish.

“Kiddo?” Sam’s voice cut through you and made your ears ring. Too much.

He stepped closer as another pang of hunger wracked over you. Wrongwrongwrong.

“Please, Sam…” You begged him as you tried to keep your distance. The scent of his blood was sending your hungry mind into a frenzy and you were worried what would happen if he got any closer, though the urge to feed became overwhelming. “Please…I can’t.”

“Y/N…”

“Just a little bit Sammy… Please.” You begged, curling in on himself.

“You can’t.” He told you. “You have to hold out a little longer. Dean will be here soon.”

Your mouth was beginning to hurt as your teeth replaced themselves with razor sharp fangs. As another pang shot through you, you bit your lip with a whine. Your blood trickled onto your tongue, agitating you further.

Sam was closer now and gods the temptation was…every beat of his heart was like a timer counting down.

“Please Sam… I can’t do this anymore. I need it-” You whimpered. “Why won’t you help me!” You sobbed. Sam knew you weren’t thinking straight, but seeing you feeling like this hurt. “I can’t take it anymore.”

“Oh Kid…” Sam picked you up in his arms despite your weak protests; despite turning the blood loss was still taking its toll on you. “I’m so sorry but you know I can’t.”

“You don’t understand.” You tried to push yourself away from him. “I need it. Help me!”

“I can’t.” He reinstated as he moved you over to lay you on the bed again. He shut his eyes. “If you were me, you would do the same.”

You nodded slightly as you settled down on the bed, curling up as tight as you could. You squeezed your eyes as tightly shut as you could; the light streaming from under the door and from the crack in the curtains seemed to burn you and the lamp on the other side of the room made you feel like someone was shining a torch right into your eyes. It made your head throb. And your hands had moved subconsciously to cover your ears in a vain attempt to block out the minute sounds that Sam made as he shuffled around the room and the noise of the neighbours in the room next to yours. The three heartbeats around you all beat out of sync and the longer you dwelled on it the more it began to drive you crazy. You felt like you were dying. As if your body was fighting against itself in some never ending battle.

For Sam, the room had fallen into silence as he moved to switch off the lamp and close the curtains; he had seen the way you winced. He moved as quietly as he could, but even that seemed to be too much.

“Hurts…”

Your brother sucked in a breath. “I know sweetheart, I know. Just a little longer okay. Just hold on.”

A savage shiver wracked through your body. You had begun to grow feverish. Sam was talking in a hushed voice to Dean over the phone, trying to reassure you that he was on his way and pleading for you to just hang on. He swore his heart was going to stop every time your eyes slipped closed for a moment too long, but you knew from the incessant thrum of his heart that he was in fact wrong.

“You’re not looking too hot over there.” The vampire perked up from across the room with a grin. He had been watching you keenly with his piercing eyes; a haunting reminder of what you could become.

Your gaze, that had been staring off into nothing, shifted until it focused on him.

“You know, Sam,” He continued “if you would just let her feed, it would be easier for all of us.”

“Shut up.”

“Oh, I know you’ve considered it. You can’t stand watching her rot away.” He started and Sam winced. “But then… of course you would have to kill her.” He hummed. “It’s ironic really. Little Y/N Winchester, killed by her very own brothers for turning into the very thing they dedicated their lives to killing. A monster. How chilling.”

Sam gripped another syringe of dean man’s blood and jabbed it harshly into the vampire's neck. “I thought I told you to shut up?”

Sam’s attention returned briefly to you as a fit of coughs racked you. He paled. “You’re lucky we need you right now. But as soon as she is okay you’re dead meat.”

Dean bustled through the door with bags full of strange ingredients. He slid them onto the counter as Sam acknowledged him and moved swiftly to begin prepping the ingredients. When your eldest brother moved to the side of the bed, he felt like he could hurl at your condition. You had gotten so much worse since he left you…he moved a stray hair away from your eyes, eliciting a groan from you.

“Hurry, Sam.” Dean said over his shoulder.

“I’m trying.” Sam grunted.

“D…” You tried to mumble your brother’s name.

“Shh. I’m here sweetheart.” He felt you grip his hand as tightly as you could.

“...t-too much.”

“Just a little longer y/n. Sammy is making the cure and then you’re going to be right as rain, okay?”

You nodded haphazardly.

“I’ve got it!” Sam’s success seemed like it took a decade to arrive “Bring her over here.”

Dean wrapped his arm around you and eased you up. He supported most of your weight as the pair of you staggered the short distance across the room. Then, he eased you into one of the chairs set out around the table. The scent of the blood hit you and it made your stomach churn.

Wrapping your hands around his, Dean guided the cup to your lips. The smell made you want to retch and you tried to turn your head away.

“Please, kiddo, it’s going to help.” Sam implored.

Dean pressed the cool ceramic to your lips again and with a hesitant tremble you sipped on the liquid, forcing it down your throat. Once the cup was drained, you sat back in your chair.

You were expecting something big. Like for it all to stop suddenly or for your body to convulse. Or for you to drop dead. But nothing happened. You still felt the same. You could still hear the impending drum of your brother's heartbeats.

And then you felt something rising in your stomach and you were up quickly and racing towards the sink just in time for an unholy amount of blood to push its way past your lips. When it finally stopped, your lips were stained crimson as you sank to the floor. Dean gathered you up in his arms before you could fully reach the ground.

“y/n/n?” Sam frowned cautiously.

When he spoke, you realised that his voice no longer cut through you like a butterknife trying to slash a piece of skin.

“I-I think it worked.” You beamed. Your two brothers let out a sigh of relief.

Sammy wrapped you up in his arms. “God, you had us so worried kiddo.”

“Sorry…”

“No. It’s not your fault. We should have been paying closer attention.”

“It’s okay. Please don’t blame yourself.” You told them. You knew how they got in situations like this.

“You know…for a moment back then I thought that this would be the end of me. I’ve never felt anything like it… I thought I was going to die.”

“We know, kiddo. We know. But you’re alright now and that’s all that matters.”

◁◁ ▐ ▌ ▷▷

SPN MASTERLIST

MIXTAPE

⛤ SPN TAGLIST:

@defnotashleyr

@aestheticdaisies

@xxrougefangxx

@hell-o-kittys

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sugarverse · 2 months ago

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werewolf!girlfriend who takes hours to comb out her own fur, still wanting to look presentable in front of you even if she was covered in hair. she'd spend most of the night combing it when she transforms, knowing she'll stay like that for about a week. it didn't help that her hair was so thick she shed like crazy.

werewolf!gf who asks you to help keep her nails manicured so she doesn't scratch you so hard, keeping her nose shoved into your skin to smell your scent. “you smell so good honey, mm.. did you just get off of work?” nibbling at your neck, giggling at your jumps from her sharp teeth.

werewolf!gf who cannot leave you alone. she'll follow you around the house, hands kept in his pant pockets or inside your boxers. “can we have steak for dinner instead a’ noodles?” she knew the answer was yes. the ask was more “we should go to the store to get me more for the next few days”.

werewolf!gf whos appetite is insatiable. she keeps a deep freezer full of raw meat, but she goes through it like crazy. sometimes eating 3 or 4 steaks at a time. it was almost equivalent to binging on her period, sitting in front of the magnets displayed on the freezer as she devoured her food.

werewolf!gf who already incredibly loyal, always bringing you food or trusting you to go off by yourself. she knew you were loyal too, but it didn't stop her from littering your neck in harsh lovebites and hickeys.

werewolf!gf who whines and whines for you after a few hours of transforming, staying on your lap and hiding your face into your lap. you can practically smell her sex, tugging on your shirt and letting her wet panties grind against your pajamas. “please baby, i need you so bad.. i need you inside so we can be closer..” she whimpers, kissing your neck softly but pleadingly.

werewolf!gf who rides you until her legs are shaking, messy hair stuck to her face. sharp teeth biting into her bottom lip as she stared down at you. “need more, fuck a baby into me..” she begs, grinding against you slowly to feel the mess from the last hour or so drip onto her sheets. “make me a mommy, n we can have as many as you want..” she moves up slowly, the mess dripping back onto your cock. she moves to lay next to you, feeling her tail wag at the sight of you willing to keep going.

werewolf!gf who locks her legs around your waist everytime you say something about being close, shredding your shirt with her nails as she tried to resist marking your skin too deep. this was draining enough, didn't need you bleeding. she whimpers, moaning in your ear and gripping your shoulders tightly until she got her fill.

werewolf!gf who gets tired after, giggling as you looked on the verge of passing out. curling up next to you, she falls asleep about ten minutes later. her stomach full and warm keeping her content for a few hours

werewolf!gf who wakes up and complains about the mess, saying how icky her fur felt and heading toward the shower. she drags you in too, wanting you to help her wash her fur which was way easier to do with two ppl.

werewolf!gf who doesn't like grooming herself but will sit on the sink and groom your hair forever. not like anyone else would see you for the next few days anyway. “stay still, you need to be clean too..” she kisses your face the first few times you get irritated, not wanting you mad but not understanding the problem.

#sugar gets ns!w!#werewolf #werewolves #werewolf gf #werewolf girlfriend #werewolf gf x male reader #x male reader smut #x male reader #werewolf smut

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waterless-witch · 1 year ago

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Of Knights and Demons

Chapter 4

TW: Rape/Non-con, Dark themes, forced marriages, violence and swearing. MINORS DNI OR I WILL BLOCK YOU

This is my first ever fic so please be nice to me, I’ve also got it posted on A03 under the same name in case anybody would like to read it there.

You are the sole daughter of Byakuya Kuchiki, the sole heir to a noble family. Your father has broken from tradition with his refusal to marry you off against your wishes, instead wishing for you to find a husband of your own choosing. After years of arguing with not only your own family, but the other lords of your court all seems well. That is until a once thought dead knight returns with an army to take your home.

Souske Aizen, a man you once found kindness in has demanded that the two of you are to be wed, with your father still missing along with most of the guards you’re left with few options but to comply and hope that aid comes before anything can be set. How will you stop a man like Aizen from destroying your home and the people you care about? And who are these strange people with bone masks on their face?

Previous chapter

Sleep finds you much easier than you expected and you sleep soundly through the remainder of the night. You wake in the early morning and find that you're alone. Good, you prefer it that way, you don’t think that you could bear to see Aizen right now. You feel disgusting. Your skin is covered in dry sweat, your thighs and core are sticky with the evidence of your consummation, and your eyes are puffy from crying. Your whole body is sore and in pain you realize as you make your way to the bathroom to bathe.

You take note of a beautiful red dress placed carefully over the dresser, but the dress itself is not what catches your eye. No, what catches your eyes is the finely crafted crown that sits atop it. It’s made from beautiful thin crafted metal, adored with vines and flowers just as your wedding dress had been. It looked light and elegant. You walked past it, refusing to even touch it, you refused to wear it today, maybe ever. Definitely never you decide. You would do everything you could to let it be known that you didn’t want any of this. You would not play his happy wife, you’d do what he’d make you to keep the people you cared for safe but you would make sure he knew the depth of your hatred.

Once you entered the bathroom you looked at your reflection, which was a mistake. Your hair was a mess and your eyes were red and swollen. But that’s not what upset you. You choked on a cry as you looked over your body. Your neck was covered in brown and purple bruises, where you neck and shoulder meet there was a large mark from where he’d bitten you and drawn blood. Your hips held more bruises that were clearly from his fingers. It’d take days for all the bruising to subside and you couldn’t stop fresh tears from falling down your face. You turned away from the mirror, unable to look at yourself any longer. You began filling the tub with hot water.

Once the tub was filled you got in immediately even as the hot water burned your skin. You spent at least an hour scrubbing every part of your body raw. When the water went cold you drained it and replaced it with more scalding water and continued. No matter how much soap you used or how much you scrubbed your skin you simply didn’t feel clean enough. After giving up on your skin you began washing your hair and brushing out the knots. You didn’t want to look back in the mirror so you put it up in a sloppy braid while still in the tub. You got out of the tub and pulled on the nightgown from a few days ago, you weren’t going to leave the room but you didn’t want to sit around naked either.

You entered back into the bedroom and thought about what you’d do. You’d not been to keen on the idea of being shown around the manor before but you definitely didn’t want to now, you could already hear the lewd comments Grimmjow would make if he saw you. You thought about sitting by the widow again but you didn’t want to have to look at your reflection. Instead you just went back to bed, you pulled the blankets around yourself making a makeshift cocoon. It took you a good while to fall back asleep, mind to busy worrying about when Aizen would be back and what he’d make you do when he did show back up, but eventually sleep did find you.

You woke hours later to the sound of someone banging on your door. You shot up but didn’t move further than that. You waited quietly, after a few minutes the banging sounded again. “Hey!” You heard Grimmjow shout from the other side. He’d never knock like that unless he was telling you that Aizen wanted to see you and you had already decided hours ago that you would not be doing that. “Look, if you don’t want to come out I-'' he said clearly out of his element and struggling for what to say, “I get it…” To say you were confused would be an understantment, but he continued, “But you have to fucking eat, I’ll get someone to bring something up just tell me what you want.” You didn’t move, you didn’t want to see him or anyone for that matter. After another couple minutes of silence you heard him pound his fist into the door “Stubborn bitch.” He mumbled to himself.

Your eyes narrowed even when it seemed like he was being nice to you he had such a backwards way of doing so that you couldn’t tell what was going on. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you heard him start to pace again and mumble under his breath. You laid back down to sleep, listening to Grimmjow’s footsteps. Strangely it calmed you, lulling you back to sleep quickly and without any of the nauseating thoughts from earlier.

The next time you woke up the sun had already set. The sound of the door closing echoed through the room. You sat up only to see Aizen had returned. Instantly you felt sick as his eyes fell to you, he looked you up and down before cocking his head, “While you look lovely I much prefer how I’d left you this morning.” He tells you casually. You keep your mouth shut, staring daggers at him as he strips from his shirt. “I missed you at supper, not feeling well?” He taunts you with a smirk before stalking closer to your shared bed.

You try to crawl away from him but he catches your ankle and pulls you back, flipping you so you're facing him once again. “Please don’t,” you beg willing to try anything to keep his hands off you. “Everything still hurts from yesterday ple-” he cuts you off with a dominating kiss. Your heart sinks and you know what's coming.

He pulls away from you just enough to shush you as his hand moves to tangle in your hair, pulling harshly so that you're looking up at him. “I’ll have you every night until my heir grows inside you, even then I doubt I'll be able to stop. Not when you cry so sweetly for me.” He says, hand still gripping your hair. You feel tears start to form in your eyes again, you know there’s nothing you can say or do that would make him stop. You don’t want to have his children but how could you possibly fight him? Even if you could somehow stop him he’d just have Renji killed and you don’t think you could handle that guilt.

True to his word he’d had you again. Similarly to the previous night he took his time preparing you, forcing you to orgasam twice before he even considered putting his cock in you. You hated it, how he could turn your body against you with such ease. You also came to realize, as he slammed into you just as rough as before, that he liked when you cried. He wanted you to beg him to stop and tell him that you couldn’t take it, he reveled in it. You want to stop crying, hold out and take some of that enjoyment away from him but every time you try to he just gets rougher. He forces you to look at him with a strong grip in your hair as he slams his hips into yours and releases inside you again.

Only this time he doesn’t pull out of you, instead his hand slips between your legs to start rubbing small tight circles on your clit. Your hand shots out before you can stop it to try and grab his wrist to make it stop, you're already overstimulated and you're not fully thinking. Before you can even grab at him the hand fisted in your hair pulls so hard you're afraid he’ll pull a chunk of it out. You cry out and your hands whip to try and pry his hand out of your hair all the while keeping up with his stimulation of your body.

Heavy tears roll down your face, “Please no more.” You whimper out in a way that sounds pathetic to even you.

He doesn't stop, not that you really expected him to. “Gods you’re so pretty when you beg.” He mumbles before leaning over you and kissing you. Between the fullness in your core and his thumb stimulating your clit the knot in your abdomen was building much faster than it had previously. You can’t stop the cries and whines which Aizen seems all too happy to swallow though the rough kiss. It took a minute more before that knot had snapped your back arched as you cried out before sinking back into the bed feeling completely ruined. He pulled away with one quick peck on the cheek before pulling out of you.

He pulled you up to him and laid the two of you down the same as the previous night. One of his hands runs soothingly up and down your back. You want to move away from him or tell him to stop but you don’t have the energy nor do you want to risk upsetting him. You fall asleep quickly and when you wake he’s gone yet again.

~~~

The days that followed happened in the same fashion, you wake up alone and spend the morning hours trying to clean away filth that you knew you’d never be able to, go back to sleep, wake up to Grimmjow trying to get you to come out or to eat something, go back to sleep followed by Aizen having you how ever he sees fit for that night. Even though you’d been sleeping all day you felt exhausted all the time and even though you know you should be eating you couldn’t.

The very thought of food made you sick, not that you would venture out to find it even if it didn’t. Somewhere in the back of your head you screamed at yourself that something was deeply wrong with you but you couldn’t make yourself care enough. Maybe you were going insane, you thought to yourself bitterly.

On the seventh day since your wedding you were making your way back to the bed after bathing when your door slammed open, hitting the wall and reverberating off the hinges. You whirl around expecting to see Aizen but instead Grimmjow stands in your doorway looking positively pissed. You gape at him for a moment not knowing what to say or do. His eyes fall to your neck and in turn his jaw clenched in anger. You quickly realize he’s looking at the marks on your neck and flush in embarrassment. “Get out.” You tell him, pointing towards the door.

His eyes flick back up to meet yours, “You look like shit.” He comments bluntly. You can feel yourself getting angry, you knew you weren’t a pretty sight at the moment but you also didn’t need him to barge in and tell you about it.

You breathe an angry huff out, “Great observation now leave.” You bite back, you don’t know what he wants and you don’t care, he has no right to barge into your room and make fun of you.

He just keeps staring at you until the rattling of metal on metal sounds from the hallway, “Hurry up!” He barks, turning his head to throw over his shoulder. You hear a woman sigh.

Your eyes widen instantly recognizing the sound before she even speaks, “Now don’t rush me boy! I’m old, this is as fast as I go!” The women grumbled back. Her name was Lista, she had been one of the servants at your home, she was a kind woman in her mid fifties with long coiled brown hair that had begun to gray around the roots. She had worked in your family’s garden and since you were a young child you’d often found yourself in her company. She would teach you how much water each plant needed, how to weed the flower beds, and she’d answer every little question your child brain could come up with. She was foreign born and sometimes would tell you about plants that grew in her native home or about how to grow different kinds of food. Sometimes she’d even bring in sketches of said plants that she’d have her husband draw up for you. Once you got older you always made sure to slip her some extra silver or bring her some of her favorite foods from the kitchen. She had a sweet tooth and as a child you loved to share your desserts with her as you sat outside in the heat.

She came into the room pushing a small metal cart with food and a few cups on it. Her hazel eyes meet yours and instantly her expression softened. “Oh baby,” she said sadly as she crossed the room to pull you into a tight hug, “He said you haven’t been eating but look at you.” Lista placed her hand on your head and held you tightly. She was right of course, you’d lost a noticeable amount of weight from not eating.

Before you could stop yourself you were crying into her shoulder, as if a damn had broken you let every one of your emotions flow. She held you for a long time, just shushing you and running her hand down your hair not unlike she used to do when you’d fall as a child and she’d carry you inside to get bandaged. You heard the door close quietly and eventually composed yourself. As you pulled away Lista gave your forehead and light and loving kiss. “I don’t understand, why are you here? What’s going on?” You asked, face still wet from crying.

“You wouldn’t let me help you so I had to track down someone who could.” Grimmjow said from behind Lista, he sounded irritated but far less so than normal. “Which was not an easy task since none of them wanted to give me any kind of information about anything.” He said leaning back against the door.

Lista rolled her eyes, she had never been one to shy away from any kind of confrontation and wasn’t about to start now. “Now listen here boy,” She said to Grimmjow earning her a growl from him, “You have to think about it from our point. Y'all barge in here, kill a whole lot of us, take our lady as a war bride then have the gall to demand to know who she’s close with,” She said pointing her finger at him. “Doesn’t really scream that your tryin’ to help the poor girl.” She finished.

Grimmjow's nose crinkled and his eyebrows furrowed but he didn’t say anything, which was unusual. Lista gently pulled you towards the small cart of food, “Listen to me little lady,” she said, voice much softer than when she’d talked to Grimmjow, “Ya gotta eat, I can’t imagine how awful it is for you here but you have to. People are gonna start to notice that you're not.”

Grimmjow scoffed from behind the two of you and you turned slightly to look at him, “Yeah they are, if I noticed your husband will too, and I can garentee that he’ll force you to eat about as kindly as he fucks you.” Your face twisted in disgust as did Listas.

“The boys right but ignore him.” Lista began as she reached for a small mug on the tray drawing your attention from Grimmjow.

“Can you stop calling me that?” He interrupted angrily. Neither one of you turned around to face him.

“No,” She answered, “Now hush.” You heard him growl again but it was much more half hearted than the previous one. “I had the magisters make this for you, you need to drink it daily but it will keep him from putting a child in you.” Your eyes widen at the realization. Lista gently places the mug in your hands, it's warm and it doesn’t smell at all pleasant but you’re so happy to have it. “The boy has promised to get it to you each day and I’ll make sure that the kitchen staff have it made for you, do you understand?” She asks looking into your eyes.

You nod your head quickly, “Lista, I’ll never be able to repay you for this.” You tell her genuinely. She reaches forward and gives your forehead another light kiss.

“Just eat my dear, don’t let that man kill you.” You nod again and promise her that you will, “I have to go before someone sees I’m gone, but I’ll come back when I can.” Lista says before giving your hand a squeeze. You exchange goodbyes and another hug before Grimmjow opens the door for her, letting her out before closing it behind her.

Grimmjow stares at you for a while before it ticks in your brain that he’s put in a lot of work to make this happen for you. You don’t understand why he’d bother or what he’s seeking by doing so but you’re grateful regardless. “Thank you, again.” You say to him before downing the tea quickly.

He continues to stare at you while you place the mug down, “I already told you not to thank me princess.” He says with no real bite, you think it might be the first time you’d heard him talk without anger or irritation, besides of course when he’d make lewd comments at you but still.

You can’t help but wonder why he’d done it, “Can I-“ you started not really knowing how to say what you wanted, “Can I ask why you went through all the trouble?” You asked quietly. He might not want your thanks but you did want some answers, and maybe if he’d been in a good enough mood to help you he might give you some answers.

“Eat.” He commanded crushing your hope for answers. You roll your eyes at him but pick up your fork and knife and do as he says. It’s been a long time since you’ve eaten anything so you don’t quite eat what you normally would, stomach no doubtably having shrunken a bit. Grimmjow doesn’t leave, there’s an awkward air in the room as you can all but feel his eyes looking at every bruise and mark that Aizen had left on you. “You want him dead don’t you?” He asks out of nowhere.

You stop all movement and look up at him through your lashes. He’s not angry, he’d gone back to lounging against the door and was picking at his nails with his thumb seemingly uninterestedly. When you don’t answer his gaze flicks up to you, “I- uh, well,” you stutter, placing your utensils back down. You have no idea what to answer with. He’s been nicer to you as of late but you still don’t think that you can tell him that you want his leader dead.

He gets tired of your stuttering and spits out, “Well, if you do want him dead you should hurry up and do it before he starts questioning why you can’t get pregnant.” He says it all with such a casual tone as if you were talking about the weather or something else equally as unimportant.

It’s your turn to scoff at him, “Yeah, that’s something I can manage.” You quip back sarcastically with a roll of your eyes. How could you possibly hope to kill a man that could cripple a kingdom?

"You could,” He says, pushing off the wall and walks towards you. He picks up the knife from the cart and reaches for you. You sure he’s about to cut you and you try to pull back but he grabs the back of your head and pulls you closer. He brings the knife close to your eye but doesn’t touch you with it, “The next time he climbs on top of you, put a knife through his eye,” he says before lowering the knife to the center of your neck, “or through his throat. Or learn to live with him.” He says looking down at you, your eyes lock with his and he keeps you firmly in place, “Either way enough of this pathetic damsel shit.” He releases his hold on your head and grabs your arm, placing the knife in your hand.

You think for a long moment and Grimmjow doesn’t move, he just watches you run problems through your head. You shake your head and look up to him, “I can’t, what if I fail?” You ask even though you already know the answer. Aizen would kill Renji, and anyone else he knew you were close to, like Momo or Lista.

Grimmjow shrugs and turns around and starts walking away, “He won’t kill you if that’s what you're asking.” He says in an annoyed tone.

“I know he won’t kill me but he will kill Renji.” You say to his back. He stops walking and is silent for a minute, clearly thinking about something.

He looks at you over his shoulder and his eyes narrow. “Your little knight’s not here anymore.” He informs you. Your breath catches and your heart sinks.

You’d let Aizen do whatever he’d wanted with you and he’d still killed him? Your eyes glazed, “But I- I did what he wanted, I married him. He’s dead?” You say rapidly, tripping over your words the whole time.

Grimmjow scoffs and you think he’s going to insult you again but he doesn’t, “I never said he died.” He says in a harsh tone, “Your brave and valiant knight managed to escape along with an entire holding cell the night of your wedding.” He informs you like you're stupid for not knowing.

You breathe out a sigh of relief, “So he’s not dead?” You ask just to confirm with him. If what he’s saying is true that lifts a lot of weight off your shoulder, you might still be stuck here but at least if you don’t do something perfectly for Aizen he can’t kill Renji.

“Not yet,” he says with another shrug. “Can’t say he won’t be soon though, Aizen’s pissed, sent a whole group out after them. If they’re not back in three more days, me and my group switch with them.” You don’t know why he’s telling you all this but you think this is the most helpful that he’s been. “When he catches them it won’t be pretty, he doesn’t like to be fucked around with like that.” You don’t say anything back and he leaves the room.

You set the knife back on the cart. You think over everything that Grimmjow had told you, you know you can’t kill Aizen, he’s quicker than you, stronger than you and more battle ready than you’ll ever be. But there is another option now. You decide that you’ll bid you time and when the timing is perfect you’ll escape. It might take a while but you swear to yourself that you will. You’ll find your fathers camp and get away from here, Aizen can’t use you if he doesn’t have you. You start making plans on how to do so. Firstly, you decide, you need to figure out where you're going.

That means tomorrow you’ll have Grimmjow take you to the library so you can look over the books and records of where your border camps are. You’ll figure out how to get rid of your guards another day, but for now your feeling much more hopeful.

~~~

Grimmjow brings you supper a few hours later and you eat as much of it as you can manage. Aizen returns a few hours later and the rest of the night follows the same path as all the previous. Only this time you’re not scared to get pregnant. You are still scared of him and what he could do to you but you no longer have the threat of hypothetical children hanging over you. When he finishes with you he doesn’t immediately pull you to sleep like normal, instead his eyes rack down your body causing you to shiver under his gaze as you catch your breath. “You should let yourself enjoy this more.” He says to you.

You look at him before huffing a depressed sounding laugh and looking away. You don’t want to enjoy this with him. You already hate how your body responds to him; you don’t want to give your mind up to him as well. “There’s nothing wrong with enjoying love making with your husband.” He states as if it's a matter of fact.

Slowly your eyes look back to him and you give a small chuckle. “This isn’t love making and it’s certainly not love.” You tell him back firmly.

Aizen’s quiet for a moment, considering your words, “It will be,” He tells you, your eyebrows knit together, “Not today, not tomorrow, not for a long time but you will enjoy what I do to you. What we are.” He says and you shake your head lightly, you will not, you’d sooner throw yourself from the roof. “You will, this is your life now, you can fight it all you want but you will.” He tells you as his hand runs up your leg. You try to pull back but he doesn’t let you. He pulls you down the bed to him before snaking his hand under your back and pulling you so that you're kneeling over his lap.

Your eyes widen and he smirks at you. His hands fall to your hips and give them a light squeeze before he flips you around so that you're sitting in his lap with your back pressed to his chest. You try to move from his hold but he forces you back with a strong hand atop your thigh. You feel his cock twitch underneath you making panic rise in you. His free hand trails from up your stomach to your breast. You shake your head and he chuckles as he begins to flick your nipple. You can’t help but whine in his hold, you’re already so sensitive from everything he’d done to you before this that all your nerves are heightened.

The hand on your thigh slides downwards, between your legs you choke on a gasp as he runs his knuckles along the length of your folds, lightly grazing your clit with every pass. “Please,” you whine, he just hums to you as he continues. “Please stop.” You plead, voice barely above a whisper.

He brings his mouth to your ear, “Beg me to fuck you.” He demands warm breath fanning your ear before he nips at it. You shake your head in denial, you won’t do that, you can’t do that. “Beg me to fuck you,” he repeats, “Or we’ll stay like this all night.” His fingers begin circling your clit in earnest. “I’ll have you coming on my fingers until you pass out and even then, I’ll keep going until you wake back up.” You're crying again, your hands are on each of his wrists trying to stop him but you're not strong enough to pull him away and he just ignores you, “I can keep you here as long as I like.” He tells you.

He doesn’t stop and you try your best to hold out. By the time he pulls a second orgasm from your body you’re crying hard and you throw your head back on his shoulder, arching to try to get away, his hand at your sex doesn’t stop, it doesn’t even slow. You're so overwhelmed and his attention is starting to hurt, you’ve come twice this round and twice the previous and its all just too much for you. He kisses the side of your head gently compared to how he moves his hands. You’re so desperate to get him to stop that you give in, “Please.” You say words leaving you breathlessly and barely audible.

Even though you’re not looking at his face you know he’s smiling as he hums to you, “What was that love? Did you say something?” He asks even though you both know he’s heard you and is just toying with you. You whine pathetically, of course he’s toying with you, it's what he adores most.

You swallow thickly and shutter, his hands are still moving against you making it all the more difficult to focus on the words coming out of your mouth. “Please!” You all but shout.

He gives a small chuckle against your head, “Please what, my love?” He asks and you grit your teeth so hard it feels like they might break. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you want.” His cock twitches again beneath you showing just how much he’s enjoying breaking you down like this, how much he enjoys humiliating you.

Your jaw tightens as more tears of frustration fall down your face. You’re sure you look like a mess but you take a deep breath and say, “Please, Aizen...” He takes a deep breath in as you continue, “Please fuck me.” You beg him in a whisper, you're flushed and humiliated. You don’t think you’ve ever hated anyone the way you do him at this moment.

His hands are on your face, pulling you to meet his lips, back arched against his chest, with bruising force. He moves your head how he sees fit as you try desperately to catch your breath, feeling almost relieved that his hand is off your core. You can’t help but twitch in overstimulation. One of his hands leaves your face and trails down your body, for a moment you're afraid that he’s going to start teasing you again but he moves past your folds. He’s lining his cock up to you again and you pull away for his lips ready to beg yet again for him to please just give you a moment of rest, you know that he won’t stop but you can at least try to take a breather.

But he doesn’t give you the chance to get the words out. Aizen thrusts up into you and from this angle he hits so much deeper. You cry out as he bottoms out, it doesn’t hurt nearly as bad as it had the first time of the night but it still wasn’t exactly pleasant. He breathes your name out and stills, you take the opportunity to take a deep breath. “See that wasn’t so hard now was it?” He asks in a low tone. You squeeze your eyes shut as both his hands rise to your breasts, he teases your nipples making you whine as he stays still inside you. “You will learn to enjoy this sweet girl, I swear it to you.” He tells you before he starts moving inside you, it's not nearly as rough as he had been, not to say that it was gentle by any means but it didn’t hurt like it had previously.

It takes a while for him to find it but after a few minutes he finds that spot inside you that makes you see stars and you can’t stop the lewd sounding moan that it rips from you and your hips involuntary buck with his own. You hand shoots to cover your mouth in shock and you still your movements. Aizen doesn’t let you keep your hand there for long though, he pulls your hand away, bringing it up and giving it a small peck, his other hand falls to your waist to keep you moving in time with him. “I want to hear you my love, I want to know how much you like having me inside you.” He says still trusting inside you, taking special care to thrust just right to keep that spot stimulated. You couldn’t form words and you shake your head in denial as the pain starts ebbing away much to your hatred. You don’t want to enjoy this, you want to scream and you think you’d rather have him fuck you rough than take you in a way that forces you to betray yourself.

He chuckles warmly into your ear and after a while gets you to keep moving in time with him. Then his hand moves from your waist to your core and begins to rub your clit in time with his thrust. You gasp loudly and try to pull away from him, he won't let you though and you know it’s futile. You don’t know why he wants you to enjoy this but he does and he takes care to make sure that he gets what he wants. You can’t think about anything but how his cock is moving inside you as you wither and moan his name in little broken cries. Quickly that knot starts building and you're more of a moaning mess, you're still moving in time with him and can’t form enough thoughts to stop. “Feeling good?” He asks breathlessly with a smile. You hate how smug he sounds, how happy he is that your body is feeling pleasure from him. It snaps something in you and you let your movements stutter to a stop and you regain the ability to think for a moment.

You know he’s only doing all this to upset and humiliate you further. You pull yourself together just enough to tell him, “I hate you.” In a broken whisper. He laughs and picks up both the pace of his hand and his thrusts causing you to scream his name out. His other hand starts forcibly grinding your hips into his own again. His thrusts start losing rhythm and his hand spreads up further. The knot inside you snaps and your unable to stop yourself from sobbing and arching your back with your head on his shoulder as he fucks you through it, still toying with your clit the whole time. He finishes inside you for the second time a few thrusts later, hand finally coming to a rest between your legs. You fall back into him, eyelids heavy and tears still lightly falling.

He rubs your legs soothingly as he untangles himself from you and gently lays you down on the pillows. He leans down and kisses you softly before pulling away to look in your eyes. “Hate me all you want, lie to me and yourself if you must but you did enjoy that.” You avert your eyes not wanting to look at him. He kisses your forehead then laid down next to you and drapes his arm around you.

Sleep does not come as easily as it had been. Instead you laid awake upset. You know it was involuntary but he was right, you had enjoyed that. You were a mess for him, you matched his thrusts and moaned for him. You begged him to fuck you. You hated yourself for how weak you were. How weak you are. You couldn’t pull him off you, you couldn’t kill him and you couldn’t even stop him from manipulating you to do whatever he wanted.

Eventually sleep does come and surprisingly you dream, something you haven’t done in weeks, perhaps you’d been too exhausted. In your dream you are with Aizen again as you just had been, except you're not fighting him at all. You're grinding your hips in time with him and moaning obscenely, his pace picks up and you loop your arm around his head to hold onto his hair to ground yourself.

Except the hair in your hand is different from Aizen’s, it's not styled the same and seems a bit shorter. You turn to look back but a hand grabs your chin and keeps you looking straight ahead. “Something the matter princess?” A voice that is very much not Aizen’s rasps into your ear. Instead the voice belongs to Grimmjow and the last thing you remember from your dream is his strange bone mask pressed against you.

You wake with a shaky breath and wide eyes. Your heart is beating wildly out of control as you try to wrap your mind around what just happened. Behind you there’s the sound of metal rattling and you go to shoot up and see what’s there but a hand shoves you back down. Your back hits the mattress with enough force to knock the air from your lungs and you gasp. You take notice that the hand in question is pushing the blanket from the bed against your upper chest. Your eyes shoot up to meet a set of azure eyes staring back at you.

You flushed being this close to him even though you know logically that he had no way of knowing what your brain had just conjured up of him. Grimmjow’s leaning over you, one knee rested on the bed to be able to reach you and keep you in place. “Unless you're planning on giving me a show I recommend keeping yourself covered princess.” He tells you bluntly as he slowly pulls away from you.

You’re left gaping at him for a moment before your mind starts processing what’s going on. “Why are you here?” You ask in a high pitched tone as your arm moves to hold the blank in place over your chest so you can sit up. It’s early morning, you're still naked and he shouldn’t be in here.

He looks at you a second before gesturing behind him to a plate and cup of steaming tea on your nightstand. “Your hag couldn’t make it up so I brought your food.” He said, irritation thick in his voice.

It clicked into place that he’d promised to bring you the tea every morning and made sense enough. “Oh, t-thank you.” You stutter out quickly not being able to look at him and flushing more in embarrassment. You were embarrassed that you’d thought of him like that even if you were unconscious. You couldn’t deny that he was handsome even with the strange bone mask and near constant scowl, but he was also an ass and was rude to you and you didn’t want to think about him like that. He had kidnapped you and brought you to Aizen. He antagonized you for fun and got angry when you didn’t react in a fun enough way for him. He had been kind a few times but he always took such a bastardized approach to it that you couldn’t tell why he’d done it. He made little sense to you so it made even less sense that you’d be having lewd dreams about him.

You could feel his gaze and your eyes flicked to his for just long enough to see them narrow before you looked away again. You don’t know what gave you away but he can tell that something’s wrong. “What’s wrong with you today?” He asks harshly, eyes still fixated on you.

You swallow and try to think of something to say, nothing comes to you and he starts stalking towards you. In a panic you say, “Nothing!” A little too loudly. Your response makes him stop walking but he cocks an eyebrow and scoffs like he doesn’t believe you, “I’m not wearing any clothes can you please get out?” You say with a bit of distress in your voice as he stays firmly planted. He eyes your exposed neck, shoulders and what he can see of your chest making you tug the blanket higher before he rolls his eyes and turns away. He leaves without another word, slamming the door behind him.

You wait a second before moving to make sure he’s not going to come back in before you reach over and drink the still hot tea quickly. You decide to go wash and get dressed before eating. You planned to have Grimmjow take you to the library so you could look over the geography books and maps and start to figure out where your fathers camp might be. You bathe, trying and failing to make yourself seem clean and brush through your knotted hair leaving it to fall naturally. You dress in a black dress that was left for you with the same neckline as all the rest. You knew your hickies and love bites would be on display but there was little that you could do about that. You look at the beautiful crown that sits permanently on the dresser and leave it there. You won’t wear it. You won’t have anything to do with it. You slip on your flats and quickly eat as much as you can manage.

With a deep breath you go to the heavy door and pull it open. Grimmjow is leaning beside it and his head immediately snaps to you. His eyes widen and he pushes off the wall to fully see you. He looks you up and down twice before his eyes settle on yours and he smirks at you, “Well, look at you all dressed up and pretty again.” He says, making you flush a bit, you’re used to him calling you princess but you were not prepared for him to call you pretty. It’s such a simple thing to say but it gets a reaction out of you which only makes his smirk grow. “What do I owe the honor?” He says smirk never leaving his face.

You keep eye contact with him refusing to keep backing away. “If you don’t mind, I'd like to go to the library.” You tell him. He seems to consider it for a moment and for a second you worry that he’ll refuse but he doesn’t.

He lets out a sigh, “Fine, it figures though, you finally wanna go somewhere and it's the most boring place in the manor.” He said with a roll of his eyes. He led you to the library silently after that, you hadn’t seen anyone on your walk which was reliving in a way. He held the door open for you, the library was huge, far larger than the one at your own manor. Rows upon rows of shelves line the room, all with little engraved plaques to tell you which genres the shelves held. As you walked through the library looking for what you needed Grimmjow trailed behind you, running his fingers lazily over the spines of the books and messing with them as he went.

After a while you had a decent stack of books about previous wars of your kingdom, localized weather, localized geography, as well as a few books on local plants and a book about how to grow different crops to make your pile look less suspicious. Grimmjow, you noticed, didn’t pick anything up but you didn’t give him much thought. You strolled over to a small sitting area adored with a few plush sitting chairs as well as a matching chaise and some small tables. Grimmjow flops down on the chaise as you set your books on the table and sit yourself. “Is this really what you’re gonna do all day?” He asked, looking bored already.

You just shrugged at him, “I like to read.” You say as you pick up the book about wars, hoping to find something about where to locate your father, perhaps see if there was an area that they often came back to for their temporary camps. Grimmjow scoffed and threw his head back and stared at the ceiling. You read the first two chapters before you heard him signing and shifting around. You ignored him and got a single page read before he interrupted you.

“What are you reading?” He asked in an annoyed voice like you were inconveniencing him. You looked at him over the top of your book to see he was staring at you.

“It’s about history.” You said, you didn’t want to specify to him what kind of history. While he had been kind a few times and he’d all but told you to kill Aizen you still didn’t want to chance fate and have him report what you were planning to do back to someone.

He raised a brow at you, “They all about history?” He sneered looking at your stack of books. You were a little worried that he had seen through your white lie but you steeled your face trying not to let anything show.

You shook your head lightly, “No, there’s a few about weather patterns and geography but most of them are about local plants and crop growing.” He rolled his eyes and stretched while you went back to reading quietly.

You made it another few pages before he spoke up again. “Why plants?” He sneered at you. You look back over at him and he’s resting with his hands behind his head. He’s looking at you again and it makes you wonder if he’d looked away at all.

You fidget under his gaze and shrug, “I like gardening.” You say, he scrunches his nose and furrows his brows at you, “In the warmer months I like to be out in the gardens and take care of the plants, it's nice.” You elaborate to him.

He gives a light laugh, “Of course you do, princess.” He says and it's your turn to look confused at him. “It’s fitting is all.” He tells you, “Of course the prettiest little princess likes flowers and sunshine and shit.” He says and you can’t tell if he means it as an insult or not.

Instead you tell him, “I’m not a princess, stop calling me that.” His face broke out in another smirk and he flipped himself to lay on his side, head resting in his hand.

“Closest thing I’ve ever seen to a princess.” He says smirk growing a bit, “You’re a pretty girl with pretty little dresses that grew up being waited on hand and foot in a manor. You’ve got a strong family name and despite it manage to be the most delicate little thing I’ve ever seen. For fucks sake you had your own little knight and everything. What part of that doesn’t scream princess?” Your face flushes at his words, it's the third time today he’s called you pretty and you really don’t know how to react to it and you’re sure he knows it. It makes your cheeks burn every time and your pretty sure that he’s only doing it to mess with you.

You roll your eyes and he gives a chuckle, “None of that makes me a princess.” You tell him stubbornly. Your face is still burning red but you don’t want to let him win.

He barks another laugh at you, “I guess you’re right,” he says with a light shrug, “You’re a queen now aren’t you? Technically speaking.” He says with a cock of his head. Your eyes narrow at him, and you decide you're done talking to him and resume reading. Or you at least try too. You can feel him looking at you even if you won't look at him. It makes you fidget and you’ve read the same paragraph four times and you still have no idea what it says. Your mind wanders back to the crown on the dresser. He was right, technically but you didn’t like the thought. You didn’t want to be Aizen’s queen, the thought depressed you.

You tried not to think about it and focus on the task at hand but between Grimmjow’s gaze and his words you were thoroughly distracted. You think about what it actually is to be a queen, you certainly don’t feel like one, you can’t see yourself up there with the previous queens. You think about your escape plan and wonder if it’s actually possible, you don’t know that it is but you’d rather risk dying out there than to stay here with Aizen for any longer than you have to.

Then you start thinking about Grimmjow and what an enigma he was to you. He was rude and bold but he could be kind at times. From the first night you’d meet him in the forest he’d been like that. He’d offered you advice but refused to answer any questions and treated you however he felt like. He’d gone out of his way to find Lista to help with the tea and to get you to eat but only after he said you looked like shit and complained that you were boring. Then today he’d started calling you pretty but only in ways that were used to fluster and embarrass you. You couldn’t help but wonder if he actually thought you were pretty or if he was saying it to upset you.

You stopped yourself from that train of thought, you told yourself that you didn’t care why he did it and that you wanted him to stop. What business was it of yours what he thought of how you looked, you were sure he thought you were pathetic already. What did it matter if you were pretty and pathetic? He frustrated you worse than anyone else ever had so why couldn’t you stop thinking about him? You chalk it up to that stupid dream and that you’ll forget about it in a few days.

You reread the same paragraph for the fifth time before he spoke again, “You read a lot before all this?” He asked laying on his back with a thump. “Seems super boring.” He looks at you out of the corner of his eye waiting for your response.

You set your book down on your lap and looked at him. “Yeah I did,” you think back to all the time you’d spent reading with Momo or all the books about flowers and plants from other parts of the world. It felt like such a long time ago even though it had only been a few weeks. You can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever be that girl again, if you’ll ever lay around and read with Momo or if you’ll ever go out to the gardens and pull the weeds out of the flowerbeds. Then you start thinking about your mom. She loved to read and started teaching you when you were three years old, she had always been so patient with you as a child. You remembered when she first got sick the two of you would sit together and read for hours, when she began getting sicker you would read aloud to her so she could relax and listen.

A tear slipped down your face and you were quick to wipe it away, you looked down at your hands and tried to focus on not making yourself more upset. You weren’t sure if Grimmjow had seen your tears but if he did he didn’t say anything about it. “Who taught you?” He asked, looking up to the ceiling.

“My mother.” You said simply, you didn’t want to tell him about your mother. It felt too personal. You didn’t get to keep much of your life private as of late but that felt too private to share with him or Aizen or any of them. He just hummed to indicate that he’d heard you. “Why don’t you go find something to read? You wouldn’t be as bored.” You offer to him wanting to change the subject.

Grimmjow turns to look at you, his eyes narrow and his eyebrows furrowed. You meet his gaze in question. “I can’t.” He bites out angrily.

Your eyebrows shoot up, “You can’t read?” You ask, you knew a lot of servants and common people couldn’t but he just seemed so above it all. You didn’t know anything about his life but you had just figured that he was a knight or some kind of equivalent maybe from a good family but it seemed that wasn’t the case.

He growled and sat up, “I swear princess if you try to make fun of me I’ll-“ He starts to say before you cut him off.

“I’m not making fun of you! I’m sorry, I just thought-“ You cut yourself off struggling for the right words. You didn’t want to make the situation worse by accident but you wanted him to know you weren’t making fun of him. It wasn’t his fault if no one had taught him. “I don’t know, you just seem like you come from some high family or something, I just figured…” You let yourself tail off. He huffed a laugh and you chanced a glance at him, he had leaned back and didn’t look like he was about to rip your head off anymore. “I’m sorry.” You tell him.

He looks back up at you and for a brief second you think about offering to teach him how to read, but ultimately decide against it, he’s not your friend and you have things you need to focus on. He sighs, “Your fine princess, don’t apologize.” He told you before laying back down. He doesn’t bother you too much the rest of the time in the library, in fact your pretty sure he fell asleep for a few hours but that’s fine, it gives you time to examine what you need to in silence.

By the time your ready to leave you have a faint idea of a place your father could be. There’s place high in the northern mountains near the border of your land that would get heavy use up until a few decades ago, it now sat abandoned but if they were fighting with Aizen and trying not to get captured it was a likely place to go. You couldn’t definitively say he was there but it was the best lead you had. You had no idea how to get there or where in the mountains it was but that was a problem for later.

You rose from your chair and stretched out with a yawn, your legs were sore from sitting so long in one position and your eyes were heavy from the strain of reading all day. You looked over to Grimmjow to find him staring at you lazily while still laying down. “Done for now?” He asks and you nod. He rises and leads you through the halls back to your room. Before you can get there you hear voices. Grimmjow's eyes narrow just as Nnoitra and a man you’ve never seen before round the corner.

They’re laughing about something but Nnoitra stops as he sees the two of you, he looks between the two of you for a second before that wolffish grin streaks across his face. “Well look who it is.” He says to the man with him. The other man is slightly shorter than Grimmjow with red hair. He wears a bone mask like the rest of them, it covers his chin and jaw and rises in twin spikes on the side of his head. He doesn’t say anything but he does look you up and down slowly.

“Piss off.” Grimmjow tells them, then stops a few steps in front of you which you're thankful for. There’s something about Nnoitra that terrifies you, maybe it's the way he looks at you like he wants to eat you alive or the way he talks to and about you like you're less than a person but none of it sits right with you.

I wasn’t talking to you,” Nnoitra says with an eye roll. He looks back to you, “I just didn’t expect to see her again. Figured she’d kill herself in all her misery.” He said with a laugh. “I owe Yammy four silver now, he said she’d have to come out sooner or later.” He said continuing to laugh, his red haired partner also gave a small chuckle. He looked down to your neck then to your chest. “Though maybe she’s not all that miserable, maybe she likes getting fucked like a whore.” He sneered at you. Your eyebrows shot up and you flushed in anger and embarrassment. You’re pissed at the very idea that you’d want any of this and the name he’d called you. You're anything but a whore, you’d never even been with a man or entertained the idea before Aizen had forced you to be his wife.

Grimmjow’s jaw tightens and he looks angrier than you’ve ever seen him. “Shut the fuck up, go take your pathetic ass somewhere else. Just because you can’t get your cock wet doesn’t mean we need to deal with your bitchy attitude.” Grimmjow says before grabbing your wrist and dragging you past the two men. The red haired man just watches you two push past but of course Nnoitra isn’t done yet.

He lets out a wild laugh, “Is that what’s going on here?” He asks, you’re confused by what he means until he continues. “Ya been fucking her while Lord Aizen’s not around?” You can hear the grin in his words without looking at him, “She’s got so many marks on her how would he know if you put one on her, smart really. I’d fuck her if I could get close too.” Nnoitra snorted and his partner laughed too.

Grimmjow releases your wrist and whirls around on Nnoitra, sword drawn and pointed sharply to his long neck before you can recognize what happened. “One more word. One more fucking word and I’ll have your head on the damn floor.” Grimmjow says voice low and threatening. Nnoitra held his hands up in surrender but kept smirking all the while. Grimmjow doesn’t move for a while, clearly thinking on whether or not to just kill him and be done with it but something convinces him not to.

He turns sharply and sheaths his sword before pushing you forward back towards your room. He’s silent until you're a ways away from the other two men. The whole way you're tense and thinking about Nnoitra, he scares you, badly. He’s unhinged and you're terrified that he’s going to hurt you one day, he’s all but said he would. “Don’t worry about him princess, we all know what he’s like and no ones going to let him come anywhere near you. Aizen would kill them.” He says trying to reassure you as you reach your door.

You can’t help but think about how he’ll be gone within two days and while you’re not friends he has made it clear that he won’t let anyone hurt you but you're unsure about the rest. What if whoever fills his place lets Nnoitra in? Or what if the replacements themselves are like him? Grimmjow had told you that not all of them were fully loyal to Aizen and you had no conceivable way to know who was and wasn’t. “And when you leave? What about then?” You ask, panic getting the better of you as you look up at him.

His eyebrows twitch upwards in an almost unnoticeable way, his eyes dart around your face before saying, “Like I said, Aizen would kill if something happened to you. While I’m gone Loly will be your guard.” You didn’t know who this Loly was and he seemed to realize that quickly. “You meet her once I think, black hair, pigtails. She’s kinda a bitchy.” He tells you.

You remember her from the day she’d brought you the dress. She hadn’t said anything to you and you were a bit surprised she was a guard but you didn’t voice that thought. “She’s not gonna be the nicest to you but she’s capable enough.” He reassured you. You nodded at him and he looked at you for a moment longer before opening your door for you.

~~~

Your night and following day played out the same as the previous. Aizen came back, did whatever he felt like with you, you woke up, dressed, ate, went to the library then came back only for Aizen to have you again. You started trying to rise earlier to avoid being naked when Grimmjow entered with your tea and breakfast. You're in the bathroom brushing out your hair after your bath when you hear the door open and close. You assume it's Grimmjow and finish with your hair and go to greet him. Yesterday he’d been the closest to nice he’d gotten. He didn’t outright insult you, besides calling you princess but you couldn’t rightfully tell if that was an insult or not. He’d bothered you a lot while you read but you couldn’t find it in yourself to mind it. Sometimes you’d even welcome the brief distraction.

But when you leave your room it’s not Grimmjow who stands in the center of the room. It’s the red haired man who had been with Nnoitra the other day. He looks at you and smiles as you stay put in place. His eyes fall to the deep v-neck of your dress and he licks his lips making you want to cover yourself but you don’t have anything to do so. “Can I help you with something?” You ask, you’re getting nervous under his gaze.

His eyes flick up to you and he looks predatory. “Oh you’ll be helping me alright.” He says before making his way to you quickly. He grabs you by the hair and you go to shout for help but his other hand smacks across your face so hard you're thrown to the floor. He picks you up from the floor by your hair roughly and you feel blood trail down your chin and neck, your lip is burst and your face burns where he came in contact with it. “Who ya callin for? Grimmjow? You forget he’s one of us?” He mocks as he walks you back towards the wall.

He slams your back into the wall hard enough that you can’t breath for a second, he slots one of his legs between yours and you try to push him away. “Aizen’s gonna kill you if you touch me!” You shout, remembering what Grimmjow had said and praying that he stops.

This only makes the man pull your hair harder, pulling you to your tip toes and making you cringe back. “He’s never gonna know, how would he, like Nnoitra said you’re covered in marks. He won't notice one or two more.” You try to kick at him but he just pushes closer. “Never fucked a noble bitch before, can’t say I ain’t excited. You’re a fuckin pretty one too!” The hand not holding your hair grabbed your clothed breast and you again tried to scream, he smacked you again, not as hard as the first but it still hurt. “Don’t make me fuckin gag you.”

Tears fall down your face as he wraps his hand around your neck. You can’t breathe and he rocks his hips into yours while still smiling at you. You can feel that he’s hard but struggling gets harder and harder as you lose air. You’re terrified that your about to black out as stars dance across your vision. You try to pull his hand off your neck but he just smiles brighter and bucks into you harder. You can’t breathe and you’re sure that he’s about to kill you but he eases up a bit, you don’t know why and don’t have time to think about it as you suck in air. Suddenly your door slams open and the stranger's hand falls from your throat completely just in time for you to see the man get grabbed by his own hair and thrown to the floor. You take in a breath but hold it as you watch what happens in front of you.

He hits the floor hard and rolls onto his hands and knees. Above him Grimmjow is advancing on him in a silent rage. You’ve seen him angry before but never like this, he looks feral, like a beast hunting its prey and the red haired man must see it too because he starts crawling backwards and trying to reason with him. “Wait! Wait!” He shouts, still trying to escape. “We can work something out, come on! Grimmjow!” He yells before Grimmjow kicks him so hard he files back a few feet, cracking his head on the floor, spilling blood across the stone.

The man tries to get up and lunge at Grimmjow but he’s stopped before he can advance by a sword cutting into his side, knocking him sideways and back to the floor. He screams as he goes down and behind him Ulquiorra stands behind him with a completely natural and bored looking face. Neither of them look at you, instead they watch the bleeding and withering man on the floor.

Your legs are shaking, you lean back against the wall, legs buckling beneath you and you finally let the held breath escape you. Grimmjow whirls around quickly and makes his way to you grabbing your upper arm gently and pulling you up. His eyes flicker all around your face and he opens his mouth to say something but then closes it.

“Don’t move.” You hear Ulquiorra demand behind Grimmjow. “Lord Aizen’s on his way and you’ll be dealt with.” Grimmjow doesn’t bother to look back at them, instead he looks you over a second time. Grimmjow’s jaw is locked tight, he looks less feral than he had when he was fighting the man but he still looked ungodly angry and you go to apologize but the sounds of shoes hitting the stone floor make you stop.

“Take him to the throne room and wait,” You hear Aizen command, voice angry. You finally look away from Grimmjow's face to the door. There’s at least a dozen servants trying to look in, they had parted to let Aizen through but were still trying to gawk into the room. All of them were your people and they all looked horrified. Ulquiorra grabs the man by the arm and drags him out as the man begs Aizen for forgiveness. Aizen doesn’t even look at the man as he is dragged past. The servants all step back out of his way. You watch Aizen’s brown eyes fall to you, he looks at your blood for a long moment before his eyes snap to yours. He’s angry and you're terrified of him, you’ve never seen him like this but you knew it couldn’t end well. “Everybody out, I need a moment with my wife.” He demands, voice angrier than you’d ever heard. You watch everybody file out, Grimmjows the last one out and he shuts the door behind him with one final glance to you. Aizen doesn’t say anything as he makes his way to you.

#bleach fic #bleach x reader #cross posted on ao3 #grimmjow x reader #multi chap fic #aizen x reader #aizen x y/n #tw noncon

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aparticularbandit · 2 months ago

Text

Of A Fatal Captivity: Day One (I)

Summary: When do they decide that she can’t leave? That they’re going to keep her there no matter what she wants? That’s the day her captivity begins. Is that today?

Some of you will think that this beginning is a gimmick. Up to you! Think what you want! (It’s not a gimmick more than anything else in writing is a gimmick, which is to say, of course, it’s a gimmick, because that’s all writing is, really, isn’t it? A bunch of gimmicks? Some of them more successful than others? Isn’t that why we have tropes? The trappings of a Tragedy to tell us whether that’s really what the story is or not? (Do you know the story you’re in?))

Enough games.

You’re here for something better than that.

Or: Junko Enoshima’s factory reset may or may not be going as planned, and Ryoko Otonashi has plenty of things to say about that. Or will, once she realizes what’s going on.

Chapter Rating: M for Graphic Imagery. Fic Rating: M for Danganronpa reasons.

TW for Graphic Imagery.

AO3

previous chapter | next chapter

Book One

Four FIVE Days Ago.

Day Ten (of an…. Oh, who cares anymore? It’s over. It’s over.)

Kyoko stares up at stars winking at her through a sky far blacker than anything she has ever known and takes a deep breath of thickly polluted air and feels despair.

It’s an odd sort of feeling.

Not that she’s never felt it before – she has – but it’s different this time. Like something ice cold – the way a corpse feels, maybe, when she comes across it far later than she should, when all of the warmth has drained from its body and it’s just starting to turn – pools in the center of her chest, just where her heart should be, and spreads out slowly through her veins, as though it might reach her already aching fingertips. She can’t breathe through the ice beneath her skin, can’t breathe staring up at a sky she’d thought she would never see again, can’t breathe as the rocket-fueled mecha Monokuma disappears like the twinle of a winking star into that same sky, black on black on black.

Despair.

Kyoko knew she couldn’t save Junko from Byakuya’s mind wipe. She arrived too late for that; she and Toko both knew Byakuya would already have started whatever literal mind game he was playing with Junko before they made it, before Kyoko even got through the door. That was expected. It wasn’t an acceptable loss, but it was at least an expected one, one from which they could recover.

What wasn’t expected was a giant mecha Monokuma exploding through the roof.

What wasn’t expected was a girl Kyoko barely remembers stealing Junko away.

What wasn’t expected was—

Interfering with the memory erasure could lead to permanent brain damage. Wasn’t that what Byakuya said? And what could be more interference than a giant mecha Monokuma dropping down from the sky and literally ripping Junko out of her cradle? There’s no coming back from that, there’s no regaining Junko from that, there’s no hope that they might possibly have her back to something even remotely approaching normal – they stole her, and now they can do whatever they want with her when she wakes (if she wakes!), and—

The worst is the realization that Junko…. Junko planned this. She’d known it would happen even before wiping Kyoko’s memories. She’d—

“I really did love you. I really did.”

Kyoko’s throat cuts off. It burns, raw. She doesn’t cry because she doesn’t cry (not since Yui), because even if he’s been knocked out, Byakuya is still right there, and Hina’s…. Hina’s somewhere. Besides, if she didn’t cry over Makoto, she sure isn’t going to cry over Junko Enoshima. That would be so stupid.

So stupid.

Kyoko clenches her hand into a fist so tight that the leather of her glove creaks. Her gaze drops from the sky, and she forces herself to draw another smoke-filled breath.

Junko said she was going to die.

Fair enough.

She died.

Just like she wanted.

“...maybe, eventually, you’ll see me again, too. If you keep your promise, anyway.”

Kyoko can’t think about that right now.

Right now, she needs to get out of the wreckage Junko and her Ultimate Despair left behind.

Right now, she needs to find Hina.

Right now, she—

“M-M-Master!”

Toko races into the room, indestructible, sprints across the misshapen bits of concrete, dances around sparks and machinery that is somehow on fire, and cradles Byakuya in her arms. There’s a sharp cut across his forehead and blood (red blood) smeared across it, only growing more smeared as Toko brushes his hair out of his face. His glasses are gone, smashed under debris. Like this, he almost looks normal.

Almost.

Toko’s gaze doesn’t leave Byakuya to glare at Kyoko as she desperately tries to lift his body with her noodle arms, but there’s venom in her voice when she says, “What. did. you. do?”

“Look around you, Toko.” Kyoko stumbles away from her, closer to the door, closer to where she’d been standing with Hina when the Monokuma dropped. Her eyes sweep the wreckage as she does. “Do you really think I could do something like this?”

“I-I-I wasn’t here! I don’t know!” Toko struggles with Byakuya, unable to move him. She tucks her arms under his armpits and tries to drag him backwards, making it only a few steps back before she catches sight of the nearest broken wire still shooting sparks and gives up. (There’s a soft crack as she drags him. But there are a lot of sounds around them right now.) “A little help?” she calls out. “Please?”

But Kyoko isn’t paying attention to her. Kyoko’s paying attention to the other cracks, the shifts in the concrete, the wires and the sparks and the bits of flame, and the singular hand outstretched from beneath a huge, huge piece of—

Kyoko isn’t strong. She has never been strong, and the nerve damage in her hands hasn’t helped with that. But something in her snaps, something in her rips her own muscles as she grabs the chunk of concrete, as she heaves, as she digs in her broken heels, as she shoves it off of Hina’s body. (She’s done this before, and it tore her hands apart, and it’s tearing them apart again, and she was supposed to learn from it, and she didn’t learn anything at all, and it’s happening again, and it’s happening worse, and it’s—) The cold within her spreads, another numb stronger than the disconnect she normally needs for examining bodies, as she sees Hina, broken, before her.

(She doesn’t see Hina. She sees Yui. She—)

Blood trickles dark and red from one corner of Hina’s lips. Even from a non-medical professional, it’s clear that her spine has been shattered from the crooked way she lays along the ground, not that it matters much when her right arm has been smashed off, shards of bone sticking out through shorn muscle into nothing, not that that matters when Hina’s eyes are already starting to glaze over, their light fading. And yet still, she speaks, her voice a rasping creak, “K…K…Kyo…ko…?”

She shuts off.

She has to shut off.

To survive, she has to shut off.

(She can’t do this again. Not again.)

It isn’t fair to Hina. It isn’t.

But it’s not like she has any control over this sort of thing.

(She does. She does.)

“I’m here.” Kyoko kneels down in the debris, takes Hina’s remaining hand in her own broken one, and gives it as gentle a squeeze as she can. “I’m here.”

Hina searches above her, either not seeing Kyoko or not able to focus on her. “I…I…I didn’t…I didn’t think…I didn’t….”

Kyoko brushes a hand through Hina’s hair, torn from its ponytail, and traces her fingers along her face. “It’s okay,” she murmurs, even though it isn’t, even though it hasn’t been for a very long time, even though it might never be again. “You’re okay.”

That’s another lie.

“We couldn’t have known.”

That’s not.

Hina laughs – or tries to – but it turns into coughing. So much blood. So much blood, enough that it spatters a bit onto Kyoko’s face. (She doesn’t wipe it off.) “It…it…it was…was nice,” she struggles to say, her voice fading with every word, “to see…the…the stars….”

She doesn’t say anything else.

For a moment, Kyoko doesn’t move. She just kneels, holding Hina’s remaining hand in her own, running her thumb comfortingly along her skin, as Hina takes in that halting, stuttering sharp last breath emblematic of death – once, twice, then no more – as her body struggles to maintain what her brain has already given up. (Habit. Muscle memory. A refusal of belief.) Then Hina’s jaw hangs open, gravity pulling it down now that she doesn’t have anything to hold it in place. Someone else might reach over to close her eyes, but Kyoko leaves them open.

So she can see the stars.

(A body has been discovered!)

Then Kyoko stands, brushes the dirt from her skirt, smearing the deep red blood spattered across it, and turns to Toko, who continues to struggle with Byakuya. She hears another crack, sharper this time, as she walks over to her, carefully avoiding the wires and sparks, and sits down next to her. “Go get Hiro,” she says. “I’ll keep an eye on—”

“You g-g-get him!” Toko interrupts, spitting the words out. “I can protect Master b-b-better than y-you!”

After a brief consideration of current events and, more importantly, what Toko can do if something else should happen, Kyoko acquiesces. She nods. “Stay focused on him,” she says as she stands again. “You won’t like what you might see elsewhere.”

Toko glares at her.

“And quit trying to move him without help. You might make things worse.”

Kyoko feels Toko’s continued glare on her as she leaves, but she doesn’t hear any extra shuffling, which means she’s listened, at least. She doesn’t spare another glance for Hina’s corpse as she passes it by. Attachments like this will do her no good. Hina is dead. She needs to accept this. To let it go.

And yet.

Kyoko pauses just inside of the tunnel leading out of the now quite destroyed room. She turns, bends down, and finds that small plush bear buried beneath the rubble. His torn red eye somehow seems even more torn, as though the fabric sewn beneath the hole is beginning to bleed through, and the black, covered with dirt and dust, seems softer, lighter, while the white seems stained from overuse. Hiro will panic, if he sees this. (Hiro is panicking already. Kyoko doesn’t need to hear him to know that.)

She stares at the bear, brushes it off, and then tucks it into the inside pocket of her jacket.

Only then does she go.

Kyoko finds Hiro running about in the main hall, scurrying from one room to the other in his panic, yelling with his arms raised high above his head and his chunky sandals clunking along the floor. She calmly walks over to intercept him (it’s easy to be calm when she’s numb) and places a hand on his shoulder to still him. “Hiro.”

“AAAAAHHHH!”

Hiro jumps in his skin, bounds away from her, and whirls about with his hands up in some sort of attempt at a martial arts defensive stance. “Don’t hurt me!” he says, eyes squinted shut. “I know kung fu!”

Kyoko stares at him as he tries, blindly, to attack forward before easily stepping out of the way. “Hiro.”

Hiro’s eyes snap open at the sound of her voice, which he somehow hadn’t recognized before in his panic. “Kyokyo!” He rushes forward and grabs her in his arms. “I was so scared! And now you’re here!”

“Hiro.” Kyoko tenses at his touch and carefully disentangles herself from him. “I know that calm is not easy for you in our current situation, but I need you to remain calm.”

“Calm? Me? I’m always calm!” Hiro crosses his arms and fakes a laugh. “I’m 100% sure that I’ll survive whatever’s going on!” Then he leans forward, eyes still wild. “But the explosion? There was an explosion, Kyokyo! And you’re—” His eyes grow even wilder. “You’re covered in blood, Kyokyo—”

“Please don’t call me that.”

“Huh? But Kyokyo is—”

“Please don’t call me that,” Kyoko repeats, firm, as she grits her teeth together. “Ever.” She waits, waits for another counter to her words, but when Hiro doesn’t say anything else (surprisingly), she continues. “Byakuya tried to erase Junko’s memories. A mecha Monokuma—”

“A mecha Monokuma?!?!?!?!” Hiro echoes in a high-pitched shriek, jumping back again with his hands in front of his face. “Say it ain’t so!”

Kyoko ignores this. “—broke through the ceiling, allowing a few of Junko’s associates to take her with them.” She takes a sharp breath in through her teeth. “Hina is dead. Byakuya is hurt and unconscious. Toko needs your help to—”

“Hina’s….” Hiro cuts her off, voice soft. “Hina’s dead?

There are a lot of things Kyoko could say in this moment. She could explain what happened in more, excruciating detail. She could say just how she found Hina after everything. She could mention that maybe, if she’d searched for Hina first, instead of focusing on the giant Monokuma and the people who’d came for Junko and Junko herself, she might have gotten to Hina in time to—

To what? She isn’t the Ultimate Nurse. Even if she’d gotten Hina out from under the fallen rubble faster, there was nothing she could have done. Nothing.

(Mikan was the Ultimate Nurse. Kyoko remembers that. She could have done something. But she wouldn’t.)

((This is wishful thinking, Kyoko. Mikan couldn’t have saved Hina. Not from that. No one could have. Hina was dead the moment she betrayed you.))

“Yes,” Kyoko says instead, with all the finality of saying it during the previous incarnation of the Game (A body has been—), only there’s no Blackened, no one to punish for Hina’s death. (It wasn’t a murder. Junko may have planned for all of this, but it wasn’t a—) She tucks her hair back behind one ear, brushes her fingers through the much shorter pieces that once held a braid before Jack cut it off (she should have the ribbon, and now that’s gone, too, because she’d never had the occasion to go back for it), and then brings her fingers back sticky with a bit of Hina’s blood. Her ears ring. “We need to get Byakuya out.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Hiro crosses his arms with a perplexed expression. “So, uh. Where were you?”

It’s just as they make the turn into the last tunnel that Kyoko remembers.

“The door to the future will open before then.” “About halfway, I’d say. Halfway through the story.” Her eyes widen.

“They’re just through there.” Kyoko gestures to the broken door at the end of the tunnel. There’s no need for a code anymore, which is good because Hiro is so overcome to be exploring the secret tunnels that she’s not sure he would remember it to get in. “Can you make it from here?”

Hiro pauses halfway to the door and turns back to her, blinking in confusion. “Yeah, but…but what are you doing?”

Kyoko doesn’t respond with any sort of chagrin, but there’s something of Junko in her when she says, “The same thing I do every time, Hiro.” She can’t quite complete the reference – she’s not the sort to try and take over the world, unlike some people she could name – but there’s something warm and almost comforting about saying it. Something that breaks her heart.

But she’s not thinking about that.

As she turns away, Kyoko hears Hiro behind her, “Yeah, but what is that?”

Honestly, sometimes there’s no helping people.

For all that a huge mecha Monokuma smashed through part of the school, the rest of it doesn’t seem too terribly damaged. It’s as though whoever designed the old building – or, at least, whoever created all of the hidden tunnels and passageways in the first place – wanted that particular room, meant for experimentation, segmented away from everything else. So Kyoko makes her way through the rest of the building back to the Data Processing Room, back to the Monokuma Room, and back down the hatch without any particular trouble.

And finds the mirai door – the future door – wide open.

Inside, Kyoko sees two people. One of them is a boy with fluffy white hair and a thick chain about his neck who she has never seen before, leaning into a chair with a curious, bemused expression on his face, his hand on his chin. She looks at him and senses nothing but discomfort. Of course, she does not dismiss him outright, but her gaze is drawn much faster, much stronger to the other, to the boy who is supposed to be dead.

“Makoto?”

He startles, having not noticed her entrance, and looks up at her, an awkward sort of smile crossing his face. “Kyokyo! I, uh. I didn’t die!” He bites his lower lip and scratches the back of his neck. “Sorry?”

Kyoko stares at him. Blinks. Tries to process.

There’s just so much. Too much. Happening all at once and all together.

Her brain short circuits.

“What…what did you call me?”

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suna-reversed · 4 years ago

Text

Talking to the moon🌙

Gojo Satoru x fem!reader

minors DNI‼️

3k+ words

(quote^^ by- Richard Siken)

warnings/tags- blood and violence. oral (f.recieving), vaginal sex, anal, dacryphilia, slight praise, slight degradation, fingering. age gap. toxic relationship. mentions of harassment. yandere themes implied. heartbreak, moving on. fluff. angst. hurt/comfort. (all characters are aged up!)

Gojo Satoru is the moon. Ever changing and radiant. Beaming with light, even when he doesn't have any of his own. And much like the moon, parts of him stay hidden in an ominous darkness as he leaves you cold and alone in the tangled mess of sheets, wondering why your lover disappears at the crack of every dawn.

You had met him a while ago when he had first come into the bakery you worked at part-time, dazzling pearls on show as he ordered every single flavour of mochi off the menu. You didn’t know where it started; how the simple exchanges turned into conversations that lasted up to hours, your manager practically having to shoo him away so that you’d stop getting distracted.

You got used to him visiting you in the day during work, sitting on the barstool near the bakery counter, talking your ear off about the most random of things while he stuffed his face with mochi. You sometimes wondered how you happened to have so much in common with a man so much more older than you.

You couldn't exactly remember how those innocent conversations turned into you being splayed across the marble kitchen countertop of your apartment at 3 am, the joyous man now turned into a ferocious beast as he devoured you whole, holding your legs apart, tongue licking in between your folds with such fervour that made it seem as if it was the last meal of his life.

In all honesty, you didn’t know a lot about him, except for the fact that he worked at a private institute and often travelled overseas. He’d be as silent as a mouse as he slipped out of your place before sunrise each time. He never told you why, and eventually you stopped asking- the warmth and comfort of his body too addictive to have to give up for the question of ‘what are we?’ being answered.

On days that you’d find yourself waking up early, you’d simply let your eyes roam over the muscles of his back, adoring the dimples at the bottom of his spine, memorising each blemish, scar and mark as if you’d never see it again. You sometimes found yourself wishing he’d take off the peculiar fabric covering his eyes- your mind could barely fathom the shade of his orbs.

You knew that he was always aware of you being awake. But he didn’t acknowledge it, whether by accident or choice, you could never tell. So every time he’d finish pulling his shirt over his head, you’d roll away, focusing your mind out the window on the half disappearing moon instead of the crushing weight on your chest.

Perhaps, this was the love they never told you about. The love that wasn’t afternoon picnics and obnoxious public displays of affection. The love that wasn’t late night grocery runs and feeding each other food at cafes.

Instead, this was the love that had you deleting messages and cleaning up the strands of ashy hair from your shower drain. The love that had you lying to your friends about the marks on your neck and pretending like he didn’t just have you pinned down beneath him the night before as you served him coffee.

Every morning that you woke up alone in bed, sore and unclothed from the events of the previous night, you found yourself thinking of ways that you’d turn him away the next time he showed up at your door. But then the bell would ring, and your feet would be carrying you to the half broken man covered in bruises and blood before you could think of it.

This time, you’re sure you tell him to go away, to stop treating you as if you were some toy, slamming the door in his crestfallen face. But then why do you find yourself clutching onto his scarlet stained jacket in the bathroom? The first aid box discarded to the side as you sob into his chest, a hand stroking your hair as he assures you he’s fine.

That night, you find him buried deep inside of you, your heavy breathing filling the silence of the air, your back to his chest. The arms around you feel unbearably tight as he pulls you even closer to him. Why is he trying to snatch all the warmth from your body?

The hot breath of his mouth is right next to your ear. He’s telling you he wants to be tender and merciful while his teeth are digging into your jugular, the hand around your throat tightening as his hips rut into you harder. He does not wipe away the tears flowing freely down your face.

The next morning, you find a burning sensation rising in your chest as you stare at the empty space next to you; his underlying scent of strawberries and citrus still lingering.

What had you been expecting? Why would this night have been different from any other?

That question is answered when you realise the unfamilair feeling of a cold metal wrapped around your ankle while climbing out of bed. Looking down, you see that it's a thin silver anklet with two charms hanging off of it.

His initials and a crescent moon.

You can’t help the smile that’s on your face for the rest of the day.

--------

You're panting, the drumming of your heartbeat echoing in your ears, vision blurring as you try to make it back home. You’re gripping onto the walls to keep yourself from falling, the pain in your body near unbearable as you somehow manage to unlock the door, not even making it past the entrance as you crumble apart right there, curling in on yourself as broken sobs leave your chest.

The sound of footsteps has you shutting your eyes, flinching from the pain and fear of knowing you can’t fight. The terror of your attacker being in your home makes your cries even louder.

Instead, you find your senses being flooded by the familiar scent of strawberries and the cologne that you bought him- warm muscular arms come to wrap around your figure, lifting you up. You’re still crying as he settles you down onto the bed, gently pulling your hands away from your face.

He lifts your shirt to reveal the expanse of wounds littered across your abdomen. An unreadable expression remains on his face as he skillfully cleans off the blood, fixing you up like you’ve done for him a dozen times. You don’t remember telling him where you were injured. Could the blood be seen through your shirt? None of it matters as he pushes you back down onto the plush mattress, your eyes fluttering close you as fall into a deep fitful slumber.

It’s a full moon tonight, the light cascading through your window providing you an odd sense of comfort. You turn over in the dark, gasping a little as your eyes lock onto a pair of strange azure ones. Your mind is still heavy from the medicines you took, perhaps that’s why you don’t react, simply staring into the unfamiliar eyes on a face that you recognised better than the back of your own hand.

His slender pale fingers are trailing over the skin of your abdomen. Shouldn't it hurt more? A hand comes up to your face, gently cradling your chin as he examines the scratch on your jaw. Your heart skips a beat as his soft lips press a chaste kiss onto your brow. His voice is low and tense, anger barely restrained as he asks,

“Who did this to you?”

You try to form a response, but all you can hear is the shallow echo of the beating of your half-dead heart. Your chest feels hollow as words finally rise to the tip of your tongue, eyes dry as you tell him all of it. How a strange force had pinned you against a wall when you were walking back home, how the man who appeared from the shadows of the dark alley didn’t even lift a finger, yet it felt like each bone in your body was being cracked apart. How you barely felt the pain of the broken bottle that impaled your flesh as you were thrown aside, the stranger parting from you with just four words,

“Consider this a warning.”

You don’t care how crazy you sound as you explain the bizarre events that occurred. You don’t care that his orbs are as blue and twice as deep as the mariana trench. You don’t care that for once, his eyes hold something other than just lust as he looks at you.

Your throat feels raw by the time you finish, and it hurts to look at his pitiful face so you roll onto your side, fixing your eyes on the shimmering celestial body outside your window. You both lay in silence for a while.

“I liked thinking of you as the moon at times.”

The calm in your voice startles Gojo, but he remains quiet, wanting you to continue. It doesn’t matter if it's gibberish, doesn't matter if it’s words of hatred, of doubt, of regret; he’ll take it as long as there’s something- as long as you’re speaking. His arms tremble around you a little as a bitter laugh escapes your chest.

“But at the end of the day,” you pause, taking a deep breath, “...all I am, is a mere star in a galaxy full of constellations.”

The raw sob that rips from your chest is a surprise to both you and Gojo.

“Tell me who cares about a star that burns out and explodes?” your voice is barely above a whisper as you turn around to face him.

For once in his life, Gojo Satoru can’t joke, fight or fuck his way out of a situation. A strange weight has been on his chest ever since he saw your eyes. The light and joy stripped out of them as he found himself staring back at his own reflection.

His eyes glance down at the dip of your collarbone, the arch of your shoulder that he wanted to reside in forever, now covered in small scars. He knows who hurt you.

He pulls you closer to him, tangling his feet with yours, the strip of metal around your ankle clinking at the movement. Perhaps it was a huge mistake to have bought you something so carelessly, knowing that the eyes of a few dozen enemies followed him wherever he went.

He finds himself at a loss for words, opting to convey his emotions through touch instead as he melds his lips with yours. You sigh into his mouth and he kisses you even deeper, almost desperately as if trying to pass over his own breaths to you- as if trying to bring you back to life. He finds the taste of salt on his tongue and the wet drops falling onto his cheeks makes his flesh burn. He doesn't know whose they are as he continues to try and cling onto the shell of what was once a whole person.

“Please” he finds himself mumbling as he pulls you even closer, heart cracking as you continue sniffing into his chest.

“It hurts- it hurts- so much” You’re sobbing now, his own body shaking in tandem with yours.

Who is he to deny you when you look up at him, the broken plea leaving your mouth,

“Make it stop please.”

---

Gojo finds the cold metal of his own initials pressing against the side of his face as he hoists your legs over his shoulder. His fingers are pressing down against your sensitive nub, spreading around your slick before he pumps two of his fingers into you. You buck your hips up, cries escaping you as his tongue licks your clit, suctioning it into his mouth as he increases the pace of his fingers.

You’re cumming undone within seconds, begging him to fill you up. He’s never so easily given in to your demands, but tonight, it’s as if he’s only there to serve your wishes. The sickening thought of getting hurt again just so that you’d get this treatment creeps up in the back of your mind.

You moan as you feel him line his thick girth with your entrance, the tip catching onto your sensitive bundle of nerves as he rubs it between your dripping heat. He leans forward, pushing your legs up and safely tucking them against your chest, before crashing his lips against yours. It’s messy and rushed; tongue against tongue, spit drooling out as he pushes himself inside of you in one long stroke. The burn of it has you groaning into his mouth, hands moving to tangle into his hair. His thrusts are deep and angled, the feeling of it settling deep in your belly.

“Fuck- you look so-fucking-pretty underneath me like this”

His words of praise are muffled against your lips, further drowned out by your moans as one of his hands moves down to play with your clit. You’re screaming his name as the coil in your stomach snaps, his own restraint breaking as he finishes, painting your walls with his seed.

It’s not the first time you find yourself screaming and moaning that night. His cock is inside of you in one way or the other through the entirety of the next few hours- whether it be deep down your throat as his hands pull your hips down to his face, moaning at the taste of himself leaking from your cunt - or stretching the walls of your puckered asshole, the lube he pumped in with his slender fingers dripping out as he presses you to the shower wall, a hand coming forward to fondle your tits as his face falls onto your shoulder, grunting into your ear while he pistons in and out of your tight hole.

You can barely move a muscle by the time you’re done, body and mind numb from both the exhaustion and overstimulation as he pulls the covers over the two of you, limbs entangled with each other’s, skin against skin, his hands rubbing circles onto your spine.

“No one’s ever going to hurt you again.”

You’re barely conscious as he whispers that, humming and burying your face deeper into his cozy heat as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. You do not notice the solemn drop of moisture that escapes his eye, falling onto your cheek, a thumb brushing it away just as quickly, as if it was never there. Just as he wishes he could brush away his own existence from your life- no- just as he was going to.

“...I promise.”

---

When your eyes flutter open, they are not met with the moon.

Instead, the light of the rising sun casts a rosy hue across your room. And for once, you do not feel cold as you spread out your legs to take more of the space on the expanse of your empty bed. The sunlight does not feel like a curse anymore, even if the nostalgia of the moon’s glow stays buried somewhere deep in your heart.

But at least there’s no more crying going to bed alone each night; no more hours of scrolling through social media looking for someone who doesn’t exist; no more one night stands and low grade hookups trying to fulfil the ever-growing void in your heart.

In fact, you find yourself going out more, singing along to songs in the shower once again, even making friends with a regular trio that starts coming into your bakery every other day. They told you they’re college students too, all around your age, and you find yourself smiling a little more than necessary at one of them, even if a pair of ocean eyes floods the back of your mind each time that you do. You’re still hurting and healing, but at least you are moving forward.

“At least he kept his promise” You find yourself thinking as you climb out of bed, sighing in disappointment at the clinking of charms around your ankle.

—-

“At least I kept my promise.”

It had become Gojo’s new-found mantra. Every time he saw you drunk out of your mind at a bar, deftly bribing the bartender to replace your ordered shots with water instead. Every time he saw a random body pressed to yours, their tongue exploring your sweet mouth as you pushed them into your apartment. And especially that one time he found himself standing over the half-beaten body of the man who had tried to grope you on the bus.

“At least I kept my promise- at least she’s safe.”

He knew his actions were of a mad man. Even though he took care of the problem which had hurt you in the first place, he still found himself paranoid. Following you around every other night, making sure you were still here- still alive under the same sky as him, under the same sun and moon and stars. He told himself he was doing it for you- even if he found his heart swell every time he saw the familiar glint of the silver trinket around your ankle.

-----

“No way!” You find yourself laughing around a mouth full of mochi.

“No- I swear he likes you, he just doesn't want to admit it, you know how he-”

“What are you two talking about?”

You both immediately snap your mouths shut as he returns from the restroom, sliding into the seat on his side of the booth.

“Nothing!” you reply in unison.

“Anyways, do you want me to get you anything else? Something that this idiot wouldn't shove into my mouth?” You joke, tapping your pen against the notepad.

“Hey! I just wanted you to taste how delicious the mochi was!”

“I know- I made it!”

A loud cough breaks your banter with the light haired boy,

“I-I do actually want to ask for something”

“Of course, what can I get you? The ginger tea you like?”

“Well- what I want is-” he pauses, and you don’t miss the mischievous glint in the eyes of his friend sitting across the table.

“I’d like to take you to the festival at the park.”

You’re halfway through writing it down on the notepad before you realise what he’s asked, your head snapping up to see the slightly flushed tint on his cheeks as he glares at the howling boy across the table. Your own face heats up as he looks towards you expectantly.

“You don’t have to if you-”

“Pick me up at 4”

“Oh” butterflies race in your stomach at the smile that he gives you, “...okay, 4 it is.”

------

Weeks go by and you don’t realise the slow mending of your heart. Your broken pieces coming together each time he holds your hand, each time he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose, each time he whispers words of affirmations into your ear, and each time he comforts your shaking body, apologising for kissing your brow- even if he doesn’t understand why it made you cry.

Eventually, you learn to not mind being just a mere star in the vast expanse of the cosmo.

You didn’t care because he looked at you like you held the universe in your eyes, cradling your face with such gentleness as if you were precious china. You didn’t care because when his lips came down onto yours, it felt like the collision of stars- your own little supernovae in the curve of his cupid’s bow. You didn’t care because when you woke up, you’d find him peppering kisses across the purple constellations he left the night before.

You didn’t care because you never woke up cold and alone anymore.

------

“I’ll be back in just a second.”

You find yourself saying as you move your head off his lap, waving to your other two friends, their own counterparts lounging beside them.

“Is everything okay?’

He’s always so tender- except for when he has you splayed across the bed on your stomach, hips thrusting into yours as he tells you what a good slut you are for him- just for him. Heat crawls up your face at the memory from a few nights ago. The fingers wrapping your hand snap your mind out of its perverse refuge. Looking down, you find concern-filled eyes staring back at you.

��Yeah, I just want to take a walk alone by the beach- get some air.” You reply, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

The sound of the waves lapping against the shore in the dark and the fresh sea breeze on your face is refreshing. You make a mental note to thank Nobara for dragging you onto this trip. You stop as you find a cozy spot in the sand, giving you a perfect view of the moonlit sea.

You don’t know how long you sit there, thinking of a particular set of emerald eyes and long lashes, your smile faltering as the promise ring on your finger grazes the forgotten metal on your ankle. Your face remains neutral as you unhook it, even if it feels like cutting your own hand off, but that’s all there is to it - familiarity and nostalgia. There’s no blackhole in your chest, ready to open up and swallow you whole, there are no tears shed as you bury the piece of junk into the sand, and there is no looking back as you walk away, back into the arms of your precious ‘gumi.

Gojo stands at the rooftop, one hand clutching the sand covered jewellery, the other pulling down a side of his blindfold as he watches you entangle yourself in the arms of another, laughing as he places a kiss on the top of your brow. You’re happy, that’s all that matters- still, the irony of the situation pricks at him - especially after all he did to keep you away from his world.

He had initially found himself at a loss for words when you had told him that he was the moon, and you, just a star. If you were to ask him again, Gojo would agree, but with only half of it.

He may have been the moon, but you were a galaxy full of stars and planets that harboured dreams and wishes he could never fathom. His mind kept flickering back to the constellations he littered your body with as he now watched his own disciple press kisses into the crook of your neck.

Nonetheless, he found his own lips twitching upwards- almost tragically, but the warmth in his chest was real as he saw the joy on your face. You were right; he was the moon after all. He had shone as bright as the sun itself despite not having any light of his own. Now he stood there watching the same light reflect off the dark-haired boy who held you in his arms, and suddenly, it all made sense.

Perhaps he should have found another way back then. Perhaps he shouldn’t have underestimated his ability to be able to protect you. Perhaps-

it didn’t matter now.

perhaps at the end of the day, the moon was nothing but a dreamer.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo tw #gojo satoru headcanons #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen tw #jjk x you #gojo angst #megumi x reader #megumi smut #sukuna smut #yuji itadori #megumi fushiguro #toji fushiguro

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sinfulcries · 3 years ago

Text

MINE! — KITA X MALE READER

authors note. this is my first collab piece! i was so excited to post this and omg this is my first time writing top sub reader, i love power bottom kita. also this is super late i apologize, the deadline was like so long ago and i only published it now </3 my apologies huhu jdskdj ( @hqintheclub / wc. 1.4k )

tw. PWP, kidnapping, dubcon, implied drugging, feminization, handjobs, edging, unprotected sex, power bottom kita, yandere themes, orgasm denial, size difference, nonconsensual photographing,

Sunlight pours through your windows, glazing your bedroom in soft yellow as your eyes flutter softly against warm skin. Normally, you’d enjoy waking up to a warm morning, basking in the sunlight as you felt your cold sheets wrap against your relaxed limbs however, you were vaguely aware of the small figure sitting next to you and you could feel your wrists start to ache even before you attempted to pull on them through your restraints.

You were definitely not in your bedroom. And your captor, whom you’ve never seen in your entire life was aware that you were no longer unconscious. By the slight smile worming its way onto their face, your gut was telling you that he was about to speak, or worse, do something to you; however, you only kept your docile act up-- praying to whatever god to help you wake up from this eerie nightmare.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” He muttered softly, running a hand through your soft hair. He was significantly smaller than you and that only gave you a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, you’d be able to outdo him in terms of strength.

That thought instantly went down the drain however once you realized how he brought you to this place. He surely couldn’t have done it alone right? And if he did, how was he able to carry you? Your situation was quite confusing and the man seated next to you could tell just how frustrated you were with the way your eyebrows were knitted together closely.

“You’re bad at acting.” He sighed. “Again, I won’t hurt you. Unless you give me a reason to of course.”

Finally, you spoke up, attempting to pull on your restraints one last time before letting the words leave your lips. “What do you want from me.” The man only smiled in response.

“I want to be with you silly. Isn’t the room enough to give you some insight?” he beamed and as your eyes slowly started to adjust to your surroundings, a strained gasp left your lips as you scanned over the various photographs of you candidly taken plastered all over the painted walls. The pictures varied from size to poses to setting-- and the biggest portrait which was planted right in front of you, was a picture of you masturbating in your own bedroom.

The smaller man smiled innocently at your reaction. “What do you think, y/n? My collection’s slowly growing. Soon I'll have enough to prove just how dedicated I am to you.”

“W-What the fuck… Who even are you? I’m not even into m-men!” You blurted out, foolishly thinking that the man would let you go once he knew that you were in fact, into women. “I’m Shinsuke Kita, your junior. And I know, that’s why I have the perfect solution for that!”

Before you could get another word out of your mouth, The small male immediately stood up to walk towards the door, closing it shut before disappearing to the room on the other side. You were growing curious of what he had in store for you despite the fear bubbling in your stomach.

‘Is he going to let me go…?’ you thought, pulling on the rope tightly wrapped around your wrists with all your strength only to fail once more. They were too tight, and you could feel the roughness reacting badly to the already raw skin.

The sound of the door clicking open made you stop in your tracks as a… girl? Meekly walked in. “W-What do you think y/n senpai? I’m still quite shy but I’m pretty enough now right?” He murmured shyly.

He was insane. And although he did look quite adorable in the short dress, the frills of the skirt teasingly short, threatening to expose his ass if he bent over and the tightness of his thigh highs hugging his legs just right-- He was still a boy. He had a dick underneath that pretty little skirt he was wearing.

“Hm, thought this would be enough to convince you but guess not.” He sighed observing the way your face twisted in disgust before slowly walking towards you, making himself comfortable on your lap as he started to hump your clothed cock.

A yelp left your throat at the action, hands pulling on the ropes violently as you yelled for him to let you go. “PLEASE, I DON'T WANT THIS! LET ME GO!” Your reaction hardly phased Kita and he only let out a soft chuckle before pressing a chaste kiss on your forehead. “Shh, I’ll make you feel good baby. I’ll take good care of you.”

As soon as you were about to retort, Shinsuke slowly took off the girly panties he was wearing, tossing them carelessly to the side before unzipping your trousers to reveal your cock. By no means were you little; in fact, Kita only drooled shamelessly at the sight, your girth already making his jaw ache just by looking at it. You weren’t even hard and yet here you were, making his cock twitch excitedly underneath the dress he was wearing.

“God I’ve been waiting for this, To feel you inside of me…” The breathless words left Kita’s mouth as he started to stroke your cock and you couldn’t help but fight back the urge to get hard in front of your captor, biting your lip in embarrassment as you watched your cock grow with ease. Kita giggled at the honest reaction “You sure do enjoy my small hand touching your cock like this huh?”

“Please-- Sto-- ah!-p” You groaned in response, his pace only quickening as he started to use two hands to fist your cock, coaxing an orgasm out of you. “C-Cumming!”

Damn was he a psycho and a cruel man-- and as soon as those words left your lips, Kita immediately halted, stopping to give you a teasing grin. “Fine, I’ll stop then” He laughed.

Fuck. you could feel the dignity and sanity draining out of you as he teased the tip of your cock with his thumb, smearing the pre cum all over your smooth head. You knew exactly what the man was doing, and you knew that he was forcing you, manipulating you to say that you /wanted/ him. That you /wanted him/ to make you cum. “Tell me what you want, baby. You know I'll give it to you the moment you say it.”

“F-Fuck you…”

“Aw you want to fuck me? I knew you couldn’t resist pretty little girls like me, y/n-kun.” Kita grimaced, lifting the fabric of his skirt up to align the fat head of your cock in front of his tight rim. As much as you hated being taken advantage of, the pleasure was too much and you found yourself slowly giving in to your desires, wanting nothing more but to cum inside of the pretty boy on top of you.

Kita noticed the way you slowly grew more pliant, and a small smile wormed its way onto his lips as he slowly sank down on your cock, hissing at the painful stretch of your girth tearing his cunt open. ‘I should’ve prepared myself more’ He thought whilst holding back tears.

Fuck, the expression that Kita made turned you on, and you could no longer control yourself from jutting your hips upwards, forcing Kita to impale himself on your cock with a loud cry of your name. Seeing his creamy legs struggling to hold themselves up as the tears streamed down Shinsuke’s face was a picture you could get addicted to and it didn’t take long for you to be pinned down by the smaller male, brown eyes glaring at you as he started to bounce on your length.

“S-Soon enough, I’ll let you fuck me okay? L-Let me do the work for now; wanna make you feel good…”

With a hesitant nod from you in reply, Kita wasted no time in moving his hips to grind against your cock, making sure to lift his skirt up so that you had a nice view of the bulge in his tummy. “Mmm, You can even see me inside of you, So big senpai…” He mewled, effortlessly swallowing your cock every time he bounced his hips.

Your cock was prodding at Shinsuke’s prostate with every thrust and Kita couldn’t contain himself from giggling manically, metaphorical hearts almost visible in his lust filled irises as he was filled with so much happiness, so much love that he was finally getting to feel your cock inside of him.

Leaning in to nip at your bottom lip, the smaller male smiled before whispering, “Shit, You’re gonna be my toy now yeah senpai? There’s no escaping me anymore. You’re mine.”

#sinfulcries works #top male reader #dark content #dark haikyuu #dark blog #hq smut #haikyuu x male reader #haikyuu x reader #kita smut #kita x reader #haikyuu smut

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bemylord · 4 years ago

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haikyuu boys have a size kink

characters: ushijima, kuroo, atsumu, bokuto, tsukishima.

warnings: smut, oral, belly bulge, degrade, breeding and size kink, anal, gagging.

ᴜꜱʜɪᴊɪᴍᴀ ᴡᴀᴋᴀᴛᴏꜱʜɪ

like every boy who has a thick cock - he'd be smug whilst fucking your cunt to see how your belly is bulging due to his cock.

you'll boost his ego if you'd scratch his back or biceps, so ensuingly in the morning, his back would be dotted in the red patterns; screaming his name like it's the one word you know.

a big daddy in the bed. wanna stay all day in the bed and receiving cuddles and smooches? call ushijima daddy or captain. it would blow his mind, hearing your broken voice, thanks to his cock, moaning and whimpering.

'd-daddy!' you're getting lost in ushijima's thick cock, lacking of his deep, but morbid kisses. ushijima is biting your lips, immediately licks the blood that flowing down into your chin. strikes are powerful, beating moans and whimpers from your mouth every time his balls are hitting your ass. ushi hoists your up from the bed you were laying on: with one hand his holding your waist whilst another one is keeping the buttocks. nudging your tight and dripping pussy on his cock, feeling the closest orgasm.

'my baby, i'm close, i-' you're kissing the protruding bone on his collarbone, leaving there small hickeys that will come off in a couple of minutes. ushijima presses his lips against yours, increasing his tempo, pulling your closer to his body. 'let's do it together, honey, cum on my dick'

'cum inside me, ushi, i wanna feel your sperm inside me' you murmured wheezing, bouncing on his cock, feeling the wave is overwhelming you, bringing what you've been needy for a long time. as wakatoshi felt your creampie on his dick he bowed his head back, making his last movements 'till he did the last like you. he kept nudging into you a couple of times, make sure you've got off his semen in your belly. he kissed your sweat forehead, carrying you to the bathroom.

ᴋᴜʀᴏᴏ ᴛᴇᴛꜱᴜʀᴏᴜ

kuroo likes to do it in a raw when you aren't prepared, just enough to feel how a big cock is stretching your walls, going in until his balls squish against your ass and going out, bursting inside with speed, beating out of you desperate, concupiscent moan.

being complacent through the whole intercourse, degrading and humiliating you by calling you slut or needy puppy.

kuroo adores when you're taking the initiative by getting fucked into his lap, controlling the pace, and watching your lover's lustful expression.

'bouncing on my fat cock like that should be illegal, babe, ah~' he groaned when you take his member all, drooping down, moving the pelvis forward and backward. 'jumping on it, babe' kuroo thrusts hips up, forcing you to grab his shoulders. you looked into his eyes, taking the massive dick which is destroying your cunt.

'kuroo, ng~' you whimpered, when kuroo put hands on your waist burying himself deeper. you put yourself at the risk, slightly blowing on kuroo's ear, moaning quietly as you're cumming. your walls are squeezing his dick so tight, that he groaning, bend you over.

'did you had my permission to cum? now, i'm gonna fill your cunt with me hot sperm until it'll be enough to dripping from your pussy'

ᴀᴛꜱᴜᴍᴜ ᴍɪʏᴀ

deep oral - his favorite one. as a punishment, when you wake him up in his dick inside your tiny mouth. frankly speaking, his dick is so massive that it barely fits in your mouth: you could suck only his glans, clearly can't put a cock deeper because of the length.

another one who would be smug when you can't take his cock entirely. would be grinning and laughing at your gagging face, when you're attempting to pull away to have a breath of air.

enjoys thrusting his pelvis up when you getting down on the dick, just to make sure he's the leader.

'gag on it, sugar. feel every inch of my thick cock' atsumu did a fist of your hair to use your head as he wants. atsumu didn't have time to breathe, practically choking by his dick. atsumu might be a boy who would cherish and loving a boyfriend, but when the last ray of sunshine leaves the earth - you should call him daddy. licking his balls to the pink head, being forcing to put a dick until the glans will touch your throat.

'those tears, baby girl, that's because it's big, isn't it? taste my cum, girl' atsumu wen crazy, when he sees your tears - he's the one who can ruin your makeup, making your eyeliner run down your cheeks, leaving the black patters. your closed eyes tight, open your throat to take his cock and semen. your lover came with a loud groan, making a serial of hits in you. the mouth is filled with a hot liquid just as atsumu wanted it. you swallowed the sperm, staring at his smug and sassy facial expression.

'now sit on my face, i'm gonna eat you dripping pussy'

ʙᴏᴋᴜᴛᴏ ᴋᴏᴛᴀᴜʀᴏᴜ

he's kinda clingy and tactile: pressing you against his muscle, interlacing your fingers, kissing your lips softly and lazily, contrary to his painful strikes in your pussy.

when he first made a push in you, he was over and over asking 'how do you feel?' or 'can i move, my angel?' when you get used to his size, bokuto acts more confident - he doesn't like seeing you crying because of his cock.

bokuto is a sweet pie when it comes to the aftercare - his treasured part. bokuto will spread smooches all over your cute face, making you blushed and smile.

'my little owl, it-' bokuto groaned, when you scratched his back, pulling him closer by his torso. he kissed your lips, running hands all over your body, trying to feel every curve, smooth skin, and irregularities. if there's kink named: the man who's obsessed with your body - it'd be koutarou's kink. the captain is terribly obsessed with you. every your 'defect' that you're trying to hide, bokuto adores.

'you're gonna make your captain cum, i-' before he could finish, the spontaneously wave of orgasm made him push inside you deeply. in addition, your walls are wringing out the last of his sperm. both of you felt your high note suddenly, remaining with his breath knocked out, drowning in each other arms.

'let's have a cuddle session!' you've got no way to run.

ᴛꜱᴜᴋɪꜱʜɪᴍᴀ ᴋᴇɪ

honorable master of degrading you. doesn't care about phrases he's talking whilst pumping into you. he'd degrade and humiliate through all the night you'll be fucking. actually, tsukki is tremendously affectional after that.

the perfect way to show who's the host? anal sex for sure. your hole isn't scratched for his massive cock - amazing for him, painful for you [could be a slogan for your night-life]

scoundrel when he watches how your facial expression changes from the 'wrong hole, tsukki, it hurts' to the 'please rub my clit, i'm gonna creampie, tsukki please'

'tsukki-'

'you know my name, slut, call it!'

tsukishima spanked your ass with a resounding sound that left the mark on your booty. you're on ll fours, hair pulled, back arched - as your daddy loves to. it hurts so much that you couldn't feel anything, but his dick. you screamed his nickname when tsukki found the right nerve profoundly in the ass. kei pulled your hair back, facing your ear, biting and licking. he knew what'll be if he dares to do that - you felt the familiar feeling inside your belly. a new batch of orgasm is about to come, kei rubs your clit as he learned to read the mind. unconsciously, you squeeze his dick while finishing, uttering the nickname. you sank to your elbows with a dick inside you.

'd-daddy'

'that's right, now daddy is gonna cum and cum until your ass will drain my balls'

//~~//

why i did bokuto so sweet it must a nsfw work, but i hope you liked it!

highly recommending to listen 'lights down low' while reading it. omgfd it feels different.

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seijorhi · 3 years ago

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Reminiscent

i’m (semi) back, y’all, and i come bearing a fic!! fhdjhfjdk it’s for oikawa i won’t apologise

Oikawa Tooru x female reader

TW non-con, drunk/drugged reader, forced infidelity, emotional manipulation, angst, past trauma, coercion, mild(ish?) smut, nsfw

“F-fuck, cutie! Just like – hah– just like that!”

You weren’t the clubbing type.

Not usually, at least – but exams were over and one of your friends was fresh off a bad breakup, one night letting loose wouldn’t hurt.

Walking is… difficult, your steps are sloppy – there’s an arm wrapped around your waist, your own slung over a stranger’s shoulders. Why are you outside? Where are your friends – they… they promised they wouldn’t leave you.

“She good, dude?”

A soft, pretty laugh rumbles at your side, “Yeah, she’s gonna be just fine.”

And you remember the bar, the overpriced cocktails and the saccharine sweetness of strawberry liquor on your tongue. The dizzying lights and the bass that thumped so loudly you felt it reverberate in your chest. You knew the rules; they’d been drilled into you since you were sixteen years old.

Stick together, don’t accept drinks from strangers, and watch the one in your hand like a hawk - it doesn’t leave your sight.

A tongue between the valley of your breasts, long fingers curling up inside of you.

“You like that, huh pretty girl? You gonna cum for me?”

They wouldn’t have just abandoned you, right? Maybe you told them to go. Maybe they thought you wanted it; to go home with the handsome stranger.

You never had the guts to ask them, never spoke about that night again. Not to anyone.

Pain. Something thrusting inside of you, splitting you open while he moans and pants atop you. It hurts so much and you want it to stop.

Please stop. Please. Please. Please.

You’re begging, at least you think you are, but the words come out jumbled and wrong, and he just laughs, hiking up your thigh so he can fuck you deeper.

Why won’t he stop?

When you wake up, bruised and sore and all alone in your bed, it feels like a bad dream. You know it’s not – not with cum still seeping from between your thighs, the scent of the stranger’s cologne clinging to your sheets.

And you scrub your skin raw in the shower, but it isn’t enough to rid you of his touch.

—

It’s nothing like what they show on tv.

There’s no sympathetic detective to pat you on your shoulder while you break down, swearing that they’ll find the man who did this and you’ll get your justice.

You don’t go to the cops because you’ll know what they’ll say. You were drunk, drugged, and even if you could remember what he looked like (his eyes were brown, you think, and there’s a flash of a smirk in your head but the moment you try to focus on it it slips away like smoke) any evidence of rape washed down the drain the moment you stepped into the steaming shower.

At least… that’s what you tell yourself. It’s easier than admitting you’re terrified of judgemental eyes.

Or worse; pitying ones.

So you pretend that nothing happened. You show up to your classes and throw yourself into studying, make the time to get coffee with your friends, you even pick up a part time job – it’s good to keep busy.

The nightmares are just that; nightmares.

And things are fine, until they’re not.

—

“Baby, you’re here!!”

There’s barely time to drop your bags before she’s pulling you into a warm hug. “Hi mom,” you reply, squeezing her back.

When she draws back to take you in, one hand cupping your cheek, she frowns, “You look tired sweetheart. Have you been sleeping enough?”

“Yeah, just tired from exams and stuff.”

She looks unconvinced, but mercifully doesn’t push the issue. Of course, you don’t tell her that you missed your last two exams because you’d walked past some guy wearing that same cologne and just choked – that instead of finishing off your semester strong, you’d spent the day alternating between throwing up and crying in bed.

She doesn’t need to know that, because of that, you’ll probably fail both classes and have to retake them again next semester on top of an already full course load. It’s fine; you’ll figure it out.

For now, you work on matching her enthusiasm at having you home, grabbing your bags to bring them inside and into your old room.

“Oh, wait–”

Abruptly, you pause, gazing in confusion from the doorway of your bedroom. There’s a duffle bag lying open and empty atop your bed, a tangled jump rope, some weights, an empty bottle, a sweat towel – even what looks like a spare workout tee scattered haphazardly across the sheets.

“… I didn’t take you for a gym junkie, mom.”

She stops behind you, sighing. “It’s not mine it’s– Tooru said he was going to tidy it up, sorry sweetheart.” She sweeps past you to start tidying it up, but not before you catch sight of her wide eyed, deer in headlights expression.

And you can’t help the lone eyebrow that rises, falling back against the doorframe, arms folding across your chest. “Tooru, huh?” you grin, “And who might Tooru be?”

The flustered, almost guilty look she sends you makes you want to laugh – this is easy, comfortable, this you can do – but you restrain yourself. Just. “Tooru is… he’s– well, he’s the man I’m… seeing.”

She admits it like she’s confessing to a crime, eyes all wide and nervous; anticipating your reaction. And you suppose it’s not unwarranted. As far as you’re aware, she’s been alone ever since the day your dad walked out on you both – raising you was always the priority, or maybe the excuse. But you’re not fourteen anymore, you don’t need another father figure or every spare bit of her time and attention, and she doesn’t need your approval for this.

So you smile at her, “Is he nice?”

She lights up, her features – almost a mirror image of your own – softening as she beams, “He’s amazing, honey. I honestly don’t know how this whole thing really happened, or why he’s even interested in someone like me but… I lucked out with him.”

And so it goes, you prying little bits of information about the mysterious Tooru as the afternoon passes.

She tells you that they met a few months back, at the bakery she likes in town – and how she kept running into him; at the grocery store, and then at the park, and then on her way back from yoga that one night.

She tells you that he’s a terrible flirt, all smooth and charming with warm, pretty brown eyes, but he’s a good man beneath it all and she’s never met anyone like him.

It strikes you, as you watch your mom animatedly talk about him, that you’ve never seen her look like this before.

Happy.

She can’t stop smiling, and when you look at her, really look, she’s almost a different person – younger somehow, a bit more care-free. It suits her, and you wonder with a slight pang in your heart how you never noticed how lonely she was before.

And she’s adamant that they’re taking things slowly, that he still has an apartment of his own in town – which to be honest, you really aren’t gonna judge her on either way – but it is kind of funny simply because whether your mom realises it or not, it’s clearly a lie.

The subtle reclaiming of your bedroom aside, there’s traces of Tooru scattered all around the house; the extra toothbrush and aftershave you’d spotted in the bathroom, the men’s shoes and the jacket by the door, red wine in the cupboard when your mom’s only ever indulged in white.

You haven’t been into her bedroom, but at this point you’d hazard a guess that there’s at least one drawer full of Tooru’s clothes, probably half her closet cleared out for him as well.

“He’s coming for dinner, but I just wanted today to be just us,” she says, reaching across the couch to squeeze your hand. And you’re grateful for it, because you’re happy for her – you are – but you’re not so sure how you would’ve handled meeting the stranger holding your mother’s heart first thing. At least, not after the last few days.

Not when you still feel all… brittle.

—

Tooru arrives a little after seven, and to say that he’s not entirely what you were expecting is kind of an understatement.

She’d gushed about how tall and handsome he is – though personally, you think pretty’s the more accurate word, what with his soft, delicate features, perfect cupid’s bow lips and all. What she’d neglected to tell you was that the man in question, stepping through the front door with a faint smile on his face, has to be at least ten years younger than her, mid-thirties at most.

Suddenly, your mom’s initial reluctance to bring him up starts to make sense.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” he murmurs, stopping by your mom to drop a fleeting kiss to her cheek before warm brown eyes turn to you.

Your heart stutters.

“Sweetheart,” your mom begins, slipping an arm around his waist and relaxing into his side, “this is Tooru– Oikawa,” she corrects herself.

He smiles at you, friendly and charming, “It’s great to finally meet you, your mom’s told me so much – all good things, of course!”

You force yourself to smile in return, “Yeah, you too.”

There’s nothing overtly wrong with Oikawa, age difference aside – your mom’s clearly head over heels in love with the guy and on a surface level he seems nice enough, but you find yourself glad for the fact that he doesn’t make a move to step closer, try to shake your hand or god forbid hug you or something like that.

He’s nothing but a gentleman as your mom steps back into the kitchen to finish off dinner, setting the table without being prompted, pouring a glass of wine for your mom and one for himself before he offers a glass to you.

“Oh, no I’m alright, thanks.”

You don’t drink so much anymore. He shrugs, like it’s no big deal but your mom pouts at you from the kitchen. “C’mon, sweetie. We’re celebrating tonight! One drink won’t hurt.”

“We’re celebrating?” you ask.

She throws you a wink, gaze softening as she turns to glance at Oikawa, already diligently pouring you a glass, “Of course we are. It’s not every day my girl comes home, and it’s nice having you both here with me.”

Oikawa’s fingers brush against yours for a fleeting second as he passes you the glass, and you have to fight to keep yourself from ripping your hand away. It’s nothing, you just– you’re not good with strangers touching you, and as nice as he is and as much as your mom might be infatuated with him, he is still a stranger.

“Absolutely,” he agrees, a playful twinkle in his eye as he clinks his wine glass against yours. “So you’re at uni, right? What are you studying?”

Uni’s the last thing you want to be thinking about right now, but whether or not Oikawa genuinely cares, he’s obviously trying to make an effort to get to know you. For your mother’s sake, grinning innocuously in the kitchen as she adds the last little touches to dinner, you suck it up, plaster a smile across your face and ignore the twinge of discomfort in your gut.

You can handle one night of small talk.

—

You wake the following morning to the sound of voices carrying down the hall.

Not your mother’s – both are too deep, and your mom left a few hours ago for work. Figuring that one of them at least is likely Oikawa, you pull on a thin, satin robe over your pajamas, tying the sash in a loose knot before you slip from the room.

Those suspicions are proven correct; you round the corner to find Oikawa sitting up at the kitchen counter, a warm cup of coffee in his hand. There’s another man, a touch shorter, but imposing with dark, spiky hair and olive green eyes standing on the other side, hands braced on the marble top, glaring at Oikawa.

They both look up at the sound of your hesitant approach, the stranger abruptly straightening up, while Oikawa merely grins.

“Ah, you’re up,” he observes cheerfully, taking a sip of his coffee.

Your eyes flicker between him and the stranger – clearly comfortable enough in your home and with Oikawa, despite the faint, lingering irritation still visible on his face – and as your cheeks warm, you find yourself wishing you’d put actual clothes on before coming out to investigate.

“I- I heard voices…” you trail off, awkwardly folding your arms over your chest. “Is mom–”

“At work,” he supplies. “Do you want some breakfast? Coffee, maybe?”

You risk another glance at the other man, watching you now with an unreadable expression, dark eyebrows furrowed. You swallow uncomfortably, shifting slightly as you shake your head. “No, I-I’m okay.”

And in an instant, a flash, something like recognition passes through those olive eyes.

Oikawa chuckles smoothly, finally tearing his eyes away from you to address his friend, “Iwa, stop being so rude. You’re scaring the poor thing.”

The stranger, Iwa, just scoffs. “You’re a real piece of shit, y’know?”

If he’s bothered by the scathing insult, Oikawa doesn’t show it, merely shrugging before turning his attention back to you with a smirk. “Ignore him, he’s just pissy this morning.”

You’d have to be a complete idiot not to sense the uncomfortable tension between the two of them – and now you. This is your home, but it feels like you’re intruding, like you’ve stumbled into a conversation you have no business hearing, but even if you wanted to leave your feet are rooted to the ground.

“Besides,” Oikawa continues, “he was just leaving anyway, weren’t you, Iwa?” It’s almost a purr, the way he speaks, but even the silken words can’t entirely mask the razor sharpness that lies beneath.

Goosebumps prickle along your arms.

Staring at you, Iwa opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but seemingly thinks better of it, snapping it shut with an audible click. He huffs, shaking his head. “Yeah, fine, whatever.”

He spares you another glance on his way out, standing frozen by the hall. For a split second he slows, his scowl softening just a fraction–

“Iwa.”

It sounds like a warning, but he only rolls his eyes and huffs again. You think he’s going to walk out without another word to either of you, but he pauses once more, lingering by the entryway.

“You look a lot like your mother, anyone ever tell you that?”

He’s out the door before you can even think to reply, letting it slam shut in his wake. And you flinch at the harsh sound, something uneasy settling into the pit of your stomach–

“Hey,” Oikawa’s there by your side, his fingers entwining with yours. You hadn’t even heard him move. “Come sit, don’t worry about Iwa. He’ll get over it.”

His voice is soothing, you don’t pay attention to the words themselves, the implications there. You forget for a moment that you’re still in your pj’s, that you really don’t know him that well either, and mindlessly follow when he leads you to the couch and sits you down, taking the seat next to you.

And while your head’s still spinning, an uncomfortable feeling gnawing in the pit of your gut, Oikawa seems entirely unbothered by the turn of events, sighing contentedly as he stretches his long legs out, one arm sliding along the back of the couch behind you.

“Do your… friends usually just drop by like that?”

You don’t know where the words come from, or why that’s the first question on your mind, but when you glance over at him, Oikawa’s just watching you, an odd little half smirk playing on his lips. “Sometimes.”

His answer does little to soothe your unease. It’s really not a big deal, you know it’s not. Officially or not, this is his home too – you’re the one out of place. And if he wants to have people over when your mom’s not around, that’s fine, he can do whatever the hell he wants, but…

You came home for peace. To hide away for a few days and pretend that everything’s just fine and you’re not one breakdown away from shattering entirely. You wanted your mom and the comfort of your old bedroom and safety and it’s fine – great, even – that she’s found somebody who makes her happy, but this– him and the weirdness with his friend and everything is just too much, and–

You don’t realise that your leg’s bouncing until Oikawa’s hand comes to rest on your bare thigh. It’s enough to make your stomach flip, an icy chill trickling down your spine as his thumb slowly strokes across the soft, plush skin. “Relax, cutie,” he coos, chuckling softly when you visibly flinch and squeeze your eyes shut.

“P-please don’t call me that,” you choke out, fighting against the wave of nausea rising up your throat. And it’s just like last time, his cologne, notes of vanilla and cedar and spice, swirling thick and heady around you. That phantom touch, the warmth of hands gripping too tight, unwanted kisses hot and eager against your skin.

“No?” he asks, cruel amusement dripping from his tone. “Why not? I think it suits you, cutie.”

You want him to stop, to push him away, slap him – do anything really, but you’re frozen in place, shaking as the memories you’ve fought so hard to shove down come bubbling back to the surface. You can’t think straight, not with his hand sliding between your thighs, the warmth of his body pressing too closely against yours.

“Iwa was right, you know,” Oikawa murmurs, smoldering brown eyes drinking you in as you childishly shake your head, willing him away. His other hand catches your cheek, drawing your face back to him as tears well in your eyes, stubbornly clinging to your lashes. “She does look so much like you, the same eyes even.”

He whispers it like a secret, nuzzling his nose against yours like a lover would as he sighs sweetly, “It’s the only reason I could stand it.”

And then he’s kissing you, the tenderness of his lips belied by iron fingers digging into your jaw when you whimper and try to wrench yourself free.

It’s not like the nightmares that startle you awake in the middle of the night, gasping for air; hazy, broken recollections that fade the moment you try to reach for them. No, every touch, every moment of his assault passes in stark clarity.

The feel of Oikawa’s mouth as it trails greedily down your neck, his hand sliding under the cotton of your sleep shorts, even his pleased little hum when he realises you’re not wearing panties. “Such a good girl for me. Fuck, I’ve missed this.”

This time there’s no drugs in your system keeping you pliant and helpless, but that doesn’t make a difference. Not when his words echo in your head, playing again and again until every awful, sickening piece falls into place.

Long, nimble fingers stroke at your folds, and you can’t help the shivery gasp that leaves you when the tip of his middle finger sweeps over your clit.

“Please– please don’t do this,” you sniffle.

Oikawa presses another fleeting kiss to your shoulder, “Shh, none of that. Let me help you, baby.”

“N-no, I don’t, I don’t– Stop!”

Knocking away the hands that try to push him back, he hooks his fingers over the hem of your shorts and slides them down your legs, your pitifully weak struggles only making things easier for him. It’s only when Oikawa reaches for his own zipper that panic truly strikes home.

You can’t just lie here and let this happen again. You won’t.

And like a switch flipped, you start to trash like a wild thing beneath him, the scream you’ve kept buried inside of you for months ripping itself free from your throat–

Only for the fingers that had been toying with your pussy to be shoved down your throat, cutting you off with a choked gurgle. As you gag, fruitlessly try to tug yourself free, Oikawa leans in nice and close – except this time there’s no gentleness to his expression, nothing but viciousness as he grins and bares his teeth.

“You wanna yell, pretty girl? Want the neighbours to come running, let them see me fuck you?” He grinds his hips against you, his breath shivery as he pants at the friction of his half hard cock against your side. Nausea twists at your gut, acrid and bitter – you want to be sick, to cry and beg with him to stop but with his fingers still stuffed in your mouth, his thumb digging into the soft underside of your jaw all you can manage is an unintelligible whine. He hums, kissing away the single hot tear that spills down your cheek, “You think if you cry loudly enough, mommy’ll come home and save you?”

And it’s like time stands still as he laughs, cruel eyes glinting when he presses down on your tongue, warm saliva pooling around his digits. “Such a little whore, trying to seduce her poor, innocent boyfriend the very moment her back’s turned. Tell me, cutie,” he coos, “who do you think she’d believe?”

Your breath hitches, another sob catching in your throat – even if you wanted to answer, you can’t and he knows it. “She’s in love with me, you know. It’s almost a little pathetic how easy it was to manipulate her into bed – so lonely… desperate for love, for somebody – anybody – to pay attention to her, take care of her,” he sneers, distaste curling at his lips. “Wouldn’t it just break her fragile little heart to know she’s fallen for the man who raped her baby girl?”

Another garbled cry slips past his fingers and you can only watch in frozen horror as his other hand drifts back to his zipper. “You want to protect her, don’t you?”

His grip relents just enough for you to jerk a shaky nod.

“Pretty girl, so good for me.” Another kiss pressed to your cheek as the quiet hiss of his zipper fills the air around you. “It’ll be our little secret, hmm? She doesn’t need to know just yet, let her be happy a little while longer…”

Sliding down his briefs just far enough for his cock to spring free, he strokes it for a moment with slow, leisurely movements, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he watches your eyes widen.

And when he pulls you forward, guides your mouth towards it, pre-cum beading at the tip, withdrawing his fingers so you can quickly gasp for air, you just… let him.

The fight’s gone, as quickly as it had come.

You let his fingers curl through your hair, use it as an anchor when your lips part to force his cock between them. And he moans, low and shivery as your tongue slides along the underside of his shaft and you try not to gag around the sudden intrusion.

You think that there’s no room left inside of you for shame, but as his other hand creeps back between your legs, teasing at your cunt, you burn with it, clinging to the pyre of your own humiliation and disgust.

And still, you kneel on the couch, letting him fuck your mouth, letting those long, pretty fingers curl up inside of you – moaning around his cock when they stroke that perfect little spot.

“I wanted to – shit – take this slow,” he tells you as his hips jerk upwards, shuddering in breathless delight when his cock hits the back of your throat and it convulses around him. “I wanted to make you want me.”

Wet, messy, gags sound with every unwitting thrust – you’ve no choice but to swallow him down, let him fuck your throat like you’re nothing more than a toy for his pleasure. There’s saliva coating your chin, dripping down the length of his dick, pooling around his balls. You can barely breathe, a task made even harder when Oikawa decides to add his thumb into the mix, teasing your clit while he fucks you apart on his fingers.

It feels so fucking good, and you’ve never hated yourself more.

Your throat burns, hot tears stinging in the corners of your eyes, and yet he’s intent on driving you to the brink of your sanity with every calculated flick of his wrist. Something tightens in your belly, a spring coiled too tight, ready to snap, and you can’t help it when your hips chase his fingers, the needy, shameful little whimpers that leave your lips (still wrapped around his thick, twitching cock) as you search for the pleasure to temper the discomfort.

“You don’t have a clue what you do to me, do you? I could barely sleep last night–”

You choke back a moan, your pussy clenching around his digits, sucking them deeper as white spots pepper your vision and you shudder out a moan.

“So pretty when you cum for me,” he pants, but you don’t care – can’t, not when you’re riding his fingers, tongue lolling out as he gives you a moment’s reprieve to bask in the rippling afterglow of your orgasm before everything comes crashing back down around you.

Oikawa lets you fall back against the cushions, breathless, trembling and dazed. You’re not stupid enough to believe that’s the end of it, not when his cock’s still hard, throbbing against his toned stomach when he gives it a slow, cursory pump.

“Lie back, cutie,” he whispers, keeping his eyes fixed on you as he pushes himself up off the couch to shed the rest of his clothes.

And as you shuffle obediently downwards, heart hammering in your chest, you find you can’t tear your eyes away from him either.

Tall and handsome, she’d said, but the words truly don’t do him justice. A body corded with lean, powerful muscle, golden, sun-kissed skin, a light smattering of dark hair trailing from his navel down past the well defined V of his hips…

“See something you like?” he teases, smirking when you squeak and childishly jerk your face away, cheeks burning. “It’s okay to look, you know. I don’t mind the attention.”

It feels too soft, too intimate for what this is.

This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. He’s not supposed to be attractive, or to make you enjoy your own assault, and you– you’re supposed to fight it, fight him instead of just lying there and taking it…

But when he climbs back onto the couch, easing your still trembling thighs apart to settle himself between them, his touch is nothing short of reverent, dark eyes wide and adoring as you squirm uneasily beneath him.

With one hand braced on the cushion beside you, his cock resting just above your aching sex, he leans forward, easing your top up past your tits. “Perfect,” he murmurs.

And it’s enough to make a fresh bout of humiliated tears spring to your eyes. Your hands curl into useless fists at your side as he settles back onto his knees and takes his cock in hand, hissing in pleasure when he glides the flushed, leaking head along your slick folds.

“Fuck, cutie. I don’t think I’m gonna last,” he laughs, biting down on his bottom lip as he watches hot, fat tears slip down your cheeks. With an agonisingly slow pace, Oikawa lines himself up with your cunt and presses in – even with how wet you are, one orgasm already wrung from you, the stretch burns and you can’t stop the choked gasp that leaves you.

His eyes flutter shut, head thrown back back as inch by inch his cock sinks into your pussy until finally he bottoms out with a satisfied groan. “Perfect for me, so fucking good,” he pants, and you barely have time to drag in a breath before his hips are drawing back, another desperate, strangled mewl escaping you.

Bruising fingers dig into your waist, Oikawa cursing as your plush little cunt flutters maddeningly around him– before he eagerly slams his cock forward, stuffing you full once more.

And as you sob and whimper between every wet, obscene squelch of his dick fucking into your soaked pussy, that all too familiar, shameful heat begins to pool in your core.

“Gonna cum for me again, cutie?”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa #yandere oikawa x reader #yandere oikawa tooru #yandere oikawa tooru x reader #tw: noncon #tw:dubcon #tw: drugged reader #tw: infidelity #angst #pain #manipulation #fun times ahead

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