#mount hopeless
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something something on the one hand a lot of my alienation is correct or at least reasonable but on the other hand if i don’t try to have more (unfounded) hope that people COULD be good to connect with and COULD see me the way i want to be seen and whatnot, then i’m just building up a wall of jaded bitterness around myself and might as well be dead already (which is how i feel and how part of me wishes i were but, you know, not really, it’s just that my ““life”” as it is is empty and thankless and hopeless and i try to keep up the side but.)
#like i don’t even *want* a Relationship at this point but very arguably that’s a symptom#like i just feel a like. deep disdain and disinterest at the thought of connecting with people these daya#*days#but really it’s like. i started out *so* sensitive and ready to be delighted‚ like a little sunflower#and now i’m just like. calloused over with hopeless misery and like. i’m not wrong to disdain a lot of the institutions i do#or at least‚ some degree of skepticism is justified#but at the same time. what do we have but flawed humanity. for worse or for better that’s what there is.#anyway i’m just upset right now bc i feel alone and i feel like it’s making me a dick#but like. mounting a fake performance of affability would be differently bad for me so.#this too will pass but. hard little knot of miseryshameresentment&c.#feelingsblogging
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I want more fanfic where it's crimeboys but surrounding the 100 people challenges/social expiriments that Wilbur did. hell, crimeboys is really just a bonus I just want stuff surrounding the expiriments. I want fanfic written about those, what it would be like to be part of one but like from a lore angle. I want Wilbur to be hailed as a God, and I want chaos.
#wilbur soot#the social experiments#fanfic idea#please someone write this I suck at characterization and I won't be able to get the slowly mounting feeling of dread and hopelessness right
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Big Brother’s Best Friend!
(or BBBF for short)
Suguru Geto♡
MDNI
₊˚ପ⊹ Summary: You’re Satoru’s little sister with a hopeless crush on his best friend - Suguru. He knows this too, and promises you won’t be anything more. (You’ll just have to work harder).
₊˚ପ⊹ Warnings: unrequited love (at first), reader laying it on thick, slight age gap (4 years - adults!!), slight possessiveness, little lamb/big bad wolf metaphor, wet dream, size kink, semi-public sex, cock warming, making you watch in the mirror, m! receiving oral, breeding kink - is this list filthy enough?
₊˚ପ⊹ wc: 2.4k
𓂃⊹ ִֶָ
BBBF! Sugu who has known you forever as his best friend’s little sister - nothing more. He’s been aware of the special place in your heart for him for ages now. It wasn’t that he didn’t have one for you - his was just strictly platonic.
BBBF! Sugu who treated you better than any boy when the two of you were in grade school. He walked with you in the lunch line, preferring to hold your tray for you. He lent you his jacket when you accidentally bled through your pants - promising he wouldn’t be upset if you stained it. He even punched a guy in his grade for making lewd comments about you - the suspension was no big deal. “He needed to be taught a lesson on respecting women,” he informed the principal.
BBBF! Sugu who texted you every day when he went off to college, leaving you like a lamb thrown to the wolves. He listened to you rant about your school work and every minute detail of drama between your friend group. Instead of fully appreciating his kindness you often cursed him, blubbering over Facetime about why he had to be so attentive. If he didn't like you, he needs to ignore you! It was too much for your sore heart.
BBBF! Sugu who set a boundary when he caught wind of you turning guys down for him. You were basically his little sister. Precious and fragile. He only ever wanted to protect you - but it was his job to protect you now from your delusional ideas. It was hard - but the remainder of High School you went without hearing from him.
BBBF! Sugu who spends the summer of his senior year at his friend’s mansion. He forgot how lavish it was. The shower head hung from the ceiling, his guest bedroom fit a couch, and the outdoor pool must’ve been olympic size! He spent his days poolside with Gojo, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the cool mojitos that slid down his throat so effortlessly.
BBBF! Sugu who chokes on one of his many mojitos seeing you in your little two piece. You just arrived back from your study abroad trip in Spain. Your skin was sun kissed and your hair was parted differently from what he remembered. That was among the respectful differences he noted about you… but the disrespectful ones? The ones that would have Satoru smacking him upside the head? Those were plentiful. Your plush breasts filled out your top, your pebbled buds visible through the thin material. And your ass? Your swim bottoms were swallowed whole by your plump cheeks. You grew into your form to say the least.
BBBF! Sugu who after all these years still turns you down. The two of you are sitting by the firepit outside, waiting on Gojo to grab the graham crackers and marshmallows. Your voice is hardly above a whisper when you ask Geto if you were still just his best friend’s little sister - trying to play it off like a joke but you can’t hide the fat tears at the edge of your eyes when he promises that’s still all you’ll ever be.
BBBF! Sugu who maintains his composure even when you turn up the heat. He didn’t know it was possible for clothes to cover so little. How could they possibly try to sell that as a skirt? You probably weren’t helping the clothes look proper when you dropped your phone in front of him. He was sprawled lazily across the couch, manspreading while enjoying the movie playing on the big screen mounted on the wall when your phone slipped from your grasp. You were just checking if the two of them wanted any snacks for their movie when your small hands lost grip, bending down to pick it back up. You must’ve forgotten how to pick things up like a proper lady - you bent completely forward, feeling the cool air on your backside. Silly you! You stretched your arm, taking your time to check for any cracks before standing back up straight. Your phone survived the fall! Isn’t that great? Geto’s throat felt constricted as he hummed a response to you, “How fortunate.”
BBBF! Sugu who deserves an award for how good of a friend he is; Who else would turn down your advances time and time again? He looks at you deadset - your doe eyes unblinking and plump lips frowning, glossed over with a pink shimmer - as he tells you he won’t help you put away the laundry. Recalling the last time he agreed to fold your cute little panties and roll your ruffled lace socks you decided the shirt you were hanging up would look much better with your current shorts. You wasted no time plucking the shirt right off your body, exposing your bare chest to the raven haired man. He didn’t have the strength to look away and he would be cursing himself the rest of the day for allowing you to trick him.
BBBF! Sugu who doesn’t like the stupid fucking guy you brought over. He was handsy and unabashedly groping your ass while you straddled him on the couch. He was completely brazen to be doing this while Satoru was in the bathroom just down the hall - and entirely disrespectful to give your cheeks a firm SMACK!
BBBF! Sugu who throws the guy out, dragging him through the house by his ear - Giving the back of his head a firm push out the door before slamming it on him. He turns to you, “If I ever see that asshole here again he won’t be able to walk himself out.”
BBBF! Sugu who is rocking his hips into yours as you helped him through his bad dream. You didn’t mean to join him in bed, you just heard his soft cries down the hall and came to comfort him. Your hand came down on his chest, trying to shake him awake but instead he pulled you down on top of him. You immediately felt his hard on pressed against your thigh, his hips rutting into you. You noted his face was free of tears - it wasn’t a bad dream at all. His words were slurred by sleep but his moans were incredibly clear. His breath was shaky and Gosh his dick felt big. Your mouth watered at the thought of seeing it in front of your eyes. “M’pretty lil lamb,” his sleeping form murmured. You understood that clear as day. You held your breath as you waited to hear more, “Feel s’good,” Lips forming an ‘o’ and cock twitching. You wanted him so bad, wanted to pull down his sweats and suck him off right then. Have his thick cock twitching in your wet mouth. You were drooling - but you knew better. He was asleep and he would be deeply disappointed waking up to your mouth. You hated the girl he was dreaming of. Why wouldn’t it ever be you? You stayed with him until his dick stopped twitching and his body calmed. Kissing his forehead before stumbling out of his quarters.
BBBF! Sugu who woke up with wet briefs every morning. He felt like a hormonal teen all over again - cumming in his sleep over the lewd scenes that plagued his dreams.
BBBF! Sugu who was a very, very bad friend. You were the subject of every one. His best friend’s little sister. He was a sick puppy.
BBBF! Sugu who didn’t understand why you were ignoring him. Was this your new strategy? Give enough spank material for a decade and then cut off all contact? Because, fuck, was it working.
BBBF! Sugu who couldn’t take it anymore! He stopped you at the door before you were able to leave to get a drink from your favorite cafe. “What happened?” his eyes intense as he asked you. You - who played dumb. “Don’t make me sound crazy, baby. I do something?” you shake your head and shrug your shoulders. “You don’t like me. Thought I would finally leave you alone,” you sounded defeated. That made him mad. This wasn’t you.
BBBF! Sugu who wanted to punch himself seeing you cry. You couldn’t help pounding your fists into his chest and crying aloud at how this was all he ever wanted - You swallowing down your pathetic little crush on him no matter how much it hurt. How dare he act offended over something he nearly begged for. How dare he ignore you for three whole years - blocking your number. You were doing him a favor. The sound of the door you slammed in his face echoed through his skull. You were entirely right to be upset with him. He was a jerk. An asshole. Absolutely the worst. But at least he knew what he wanted now.
BBBF! Sugu who didn’t have to try too hard to convince you to sneak around Satoru with him. You took him so good anytime that obnoxious white haired idiot wasn’t looking. In Suguru’s guest suite, the hot tub next to the pool, even the couch while the three of you watched a movie. Gojo snorted at the comedic scene, pointing at the tv and turning to look at you to see if you also found it funny. Your lips were tight as you feigned humor, trying not to make what was happening obvious. You were sitting in Geto’s lap, warming his cock during the movie. Neither of you had any idea why he just accepted the fact you were in his lap, with a blanket covering the two of you. Satoru wasn’t really known for being a critical thinker after all. The earlier experience in Suguru’s bed was accurate - his cock was massive. Your tight hole clenched around him, wanting so badly for him to move. Even just a little! You wouldn’t be picky! Your slick coated his thighs, his girth making you impossibly wet. “I haven’t even moved yet, little lamb,” he teased in your ear, “S’wet.”
The first time you saw it was in his room a day after your fight. A few words were exchanged, him admitting you were right. He was an asshole - but he wanted you now.
“You’ll finally get exactly what you always wanted,” his eyes concentrated on yours. You were overcome by joy. Fighting every bone in your body telling you to jump up and down, to scream and cry out in celebration. Instead you put your mouth to good use, immediately falling to the floor and popping his dick in your mouth. You weren’t new to blowjobs or sex - you wanted to be prepared for when Geto finally caved. You wanted to impress him, to make him obsessed with how skilled your tongue was swirling around his cock. Impressed he was too, his head falling back and letting out a sweet groan. “Do I even want to know where you learned this from?”, he was devastated at your precision. How many undeserving losers did you practice on for your mouth to feel this good? Your tongue pressed flat against his vein, running it up the underside before kitten licking his tip. His pre cum was delicious, salty and bitter and perfect. “You really didn’t hesitate getting right into tasting me,” he chuckled to himself, obsessed with how you immediately began to suck his cock the moment he reciprocated feelings. “Did I make my lamb wait too long?”
BBBF! Sugu who pounds your pussy all throughout the night. He loves you in every position. He teases you in missionary, going impossibly slow and watching your eyebrows furrow as you beg him to pick up the speed. Your ass jiggles perfectly as you take backshots, your hair in his hand as he slaps his balls into your clit again and again. He loves the way you fold in half as he traps you in a mating press, listening to the sweet sounds of your sopping pussy taking his cock. It wasn’t long for you to be completely cock drunk. You would lose yourself the moment he fucked into you and would become incredibly lost the moment he pulled out.
His favorite thing of all was lifting you up and down his cock, using you like a fleshlight. He was obsessed with how much bigger he was than you. How he was able to effortlessly glide you against his cock, his meaty hands holding you up by your thighs. Sometimes he forced you to watch in the full length mirror in the corner of his room, “Eyes open, beautiful. You don’t get to cum unless you’re watching it.” Some days he would take pity on you, it was so hard to keep your eyes open while he was sooooo deep in you. Your cunt was abused day in and day out by his cock bullied deep into you. “You take me s’good. Wan’ you to have my babies - fuck. Always look so good with my load dripping out of you,” his words were filthy and animalistic. “Gonna fill that tight pussy with my children, gon’ have you looking plump n cute,” it was all you ever wanted from him. He was the perfect gentleman, even now. You didn’t have to lift a finger with him around. You would do anything to keep him obsessed with you, even if that meant carrying every child he gave you by fucking deep inside of you. It wasn’t hard to accept when it felt so good feeling his hot cum coat your walls, him not letting up even when he finished cumming. “Gotta make sure you take it all. Have ‘ta fill you completely full. You can take a few more of my loads.” His loads were huge. He emptied enough into you each orgasm you would think it was the first time he ever came.
BBBF! Sugu who made sure you were alright after every intense session. “I have to make sure I didn’t hurt my little lamb. If I did, I would be no better than the other wolves.”
#suguru geto#jjk geto#geto suguru#geto x reader#geto smut#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu geto#suguru#suguru x you#suguru x y/n#suguru x reader#getou suguru x reader#jjk suguru#jujutsu kaisen suguru#jjk x you#jjk#jjk smut#jjk gojo#gojo satoru#satoru gojo#older brother gojo#jujutsu gojo#gojo saturo#gojo jjk#geto headcanons#god i need him
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Limbo (Lena & Alex, when Kara is in the Phantom Zone)
She thought she had been alone in the Tower.
She knew she had had too much to drink. But it hadn’t mattered - she’d be sober by the time the team returned to the Tower tomorrow afternoon, to try yet again to devise a way to find Kara and bring her home. A mission that seemed increasingly hopeless…
All she wanted to do was drown and numb her fears for a night, but she didn’t anticipate Alex coming back. “Brought you Belly Burger,” the former agent said.
Lena tried to keep the exasperation and drunkenness out of her voice. But, frankly, Alex’s actions didn’t make a lot of sense. “You should hate me,” Lena muttered.
Alex shrugged. “I kind of do.”
“Then why are you bringing me food?”
“Because we’re going to get Kara back,” Alex said matter-of-factly, “And she’d kick my ass if I didn’t look after you in the meantime.”
Lena let her eyes raise up to Alex’s face - noting the stress in every line, the grim determination staring back at her. Somewhere in Lena’s grief and anger, she felt a flare of jealousy. You have someone to go home to, she thought.
Slowly, she reached for the bag of food.
---
Their attempt the next day failed. Lena thought she was safe getting drunk at home.
But Alex, annoyingly, showed up at her door, carrying containers of Chinese food. This is embarrassing, Lena thought, letting her in, watching as she unpacked the food in the kitchen. “Why are you really here?”
Alex grinned to herself, pausing to pull another takeout box before she answered. “Kelly is making me.”
It drew a laugh from Lena. As much as Alex might be noble about what Kara would’ve wanted, her second answer made far more sense.
Lena took out her scotch, pouring the two a drink. She wondered for a moment if Alex might push back - Lena was drunk enough as it was - but it seemed Alex was smart enough to let it go. So they ate their food and sipped their alcohol in relative silence.
Neither could touch the potstickers.
Her mind flit between mental images of the blonde - smiling, or weeping, or with her arm thrown comfortably around Lena’s shoulder. It brought back the twisting pain, aching for Kara to really be there, for this to be a game night or a movie night rather than a solemn mourning between her and Kara’s sister.
Lena glanced up, taking Alex in again. Her mind wandered to the incident in the Fortress - words that made her realize that she didn’t understand everything when it came to Kara’s identity.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Alex asked.
“You didn’t tell Kelly,” Lena said, “I thought I was the only one who didn’t know.”
Alex frowned, leaning forward to grab another box. “Turns out Kelly had figured it out before I told her. I don’t know which of you knew first.”
Lena felt her jaw tense, though she tried to relax it again, taking a centering breath. “Why didn’t you tell her?”
Alex shrugged. “The fewer people that knew, the better.”
---
This time, it was on purpose. Lena invited both Kelly and Alex over, and remained decidedly undrunk for the evening.
Kelly arrived first, after work, noting that Alex would be there soon with the Indian takeout that they had ordered. “Sorry I keep stealing your wife in the evenings,” Lena said.
“I think she needs this as much as you do,” Kelly replied honestly, “It’s hard, not having Kara here.”
Lena laughed sardonically, feeling the craving of the liquor in her cabinet. Kara would be here if I weren’t.
“Lena?” Kelly nudged.
It was in Lena’s nature to bury things seven layers deep. It was in her nature to hide, and lick her wounds, and keep her thoughts to herself until they were needed.
But something about Kelly’s gentleness - and knowing that Kelly hadn’t been invited to the party either, so to speak - was somehow disarming. “If Alex had killed me at Mount Norquay,” Lena said, struggling to hide her overwhelming guilt, “We wouldn’t be in this mess.”
Kelly shook her head. “She didn’t want to kill you.”
“She should’ve,” Lena scoffed, feeling the self-hatred bubble within her. For all that she blamed the superfriends for so much, she could only feel guilt for this. “I was trying to brainwash the world. It was the greater good.” I wasn’t worth saving.
Kelly reached over, giving Lena’s hand a tight squeeze. “It would have killed you. It would’ve destroyed her. It would’ve destroyed Kara, too.”
Lena bit at her lip, fighting the tears that were starting to threaten her vision. I don’t want to feel this, she thought, thinking again to the liquor in her cabinet.
But she remained seated, breathing in slow breaths as she regained her composure, Kelly sitting patiently next to her. Kelly’s warm hand was still on her own. Somewhere, the thought bubbled up: While she didn’t have Kara back… she was starting to realize she wasn’t alone.
A knock came at the door, and Kelly gave Lena’s hand one last squeeze, before rising up to let Alex in.
---
Alex came alone the next night. Lena only poured them each one drink.
Truth be told, she thought she’d need more liquor to ask the question that had been itching at her mind for months. But it was surprisingly easy that night - in a time when she could no longer summon the biting betrayal that had once consumed her. “When we were working on the harun-el together,” Lena asked quietly, not sure if she actually cared about the answer, “Why did you act so suspicious of Supergirl? Was it just to gain my trust?”
Alex turned to her with wide eyes, before leaning back into the seat. “Oh.”
“Oh?”
“I never thought- I didn’t think-” Alex turned again to Lena, her eyes darting around Lena’s face with a twisted sadness. “Colonel Haley was trying to find out who Kara was,” Alex said, “So I had J’onn erase my memory, to keep her out of danger.”
Lena’s eyes widened. “You didn’t know?”
“I didn’t know.”
---
Sometimes, there was laughter - sometimes, there were the lopsided grins and the aggravating disbelief of how the blonde held the secret all these years.
“I miss this,” Alex said, “I miss her. Without the superhero stuff.”
“Without the superhero stuff?” Lena asked.
“Just her,” Alex said, “So few people know her as just her.”
Alex’s words tugged at Lena’s heart. Just her, Lena mulled. What had the kryptonian said on Pulitzer night? “But you still loved Kara. I just kept thinking, if I could be Kara, just Kara…”
Where once she had assumed she knew only the mask, she was slowly realizing that perhaps it was the other way around. “I tried so hard to stay away from her,” Lena murmured.
“What do you mean?” Alex asked.
“Supergirl,” Lena explained, “I didn’t want to be my brother. I wanted to show her that we could work together without me trying to find out anything about her. That I knew her identity wasn’t my business…”
Alex sighed. “You didn’t know you were getting close to her anyway.”
“I was trying to do everything right,” Lena said quietly, “And then…”
“And then?” Alex asked softly, though she already knew the answer.
“And then I fell in love with her,” Lena confessed.
---
The Tower was abuzz that morning as everyone made their final preparations. Gone were the thoughts of the simple mission to transport Kara back in moments. This would be a voyage - into the phantom zone, facing nightmares unknown, hours in a fight to get Kara back.
Hope bloomed in Lena’s chest, watching as the team ran through checklists, making final preparations. This is really happening, Lena thought, this is our chance.
She wasn’t alone. “We’re going to see her today,” Alex affirmed, “I can feel it.”
Lena swallowed, feeling the tinge of nerves in her excitement - both for what lay ahead, and for what Alex knew. “Are you going to tell her?” Lena asked quietly, “What I said?”
Alex shook her head. “That’s your secret. When you’re ready.”
Lena smiled softly. “You think I should tell her.”
“Yup,” Alex agreed, “But I know you guys have a lot of other shit to work out first.”
Lena let out a small breath, glancing over to the station that she would take for the flight, turning back to Alex. A warm hand landed on her shoulder, giving a firm squeeze. “C’mon,” Alex said, stepping towards the mainroom, “Let’s get my sister back.”
Lena smiled. “Right behind you.”
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Today's Wall O'Text: We've got just under two months to get the first things done.
Timothy Snyder is an American historian whose book On Tyranny made him a household name in 2017, followed this year by On Freedom. His take on what we need to do this time around to mount an effective resistance to Trump's insane agenda is urgent and essential:
Start now. We can get a lot done between now and the Inauguration on January 20th.
Here are excerpts from Snyder's interview in the Rolling Stone article linked above where he describes ways ordinary people can take meaningful steps right now to lay the groundwork for stopping Trump's agenda in its tracks:
~~~~~
[From the article, emphasis added:]
“You can’t despair,” he tells Rolling Stone. “Because that’s what they want. They want you to think that it’s hopeless. It’s never hopeless.”
Snyder’s first rule in On Tyranny is “don’t obey in advance.” He emphasizes that Americans opposed to Trump’s designs should take stock, and action, now. “The period of November, December, January, becomes very important,” he says.
For normal people, Snyder insists the key is “to get out in protest” — now and through the inauguration. The understandable impulse of “keeping your head in,” Snyder says will only embolden Trump’s reactionary team.
“You’re giving them even more confidence that they’re gonna be able to do what they want in January.” What’s demanded of activists in this moment is to “deflate that confidence,” Snyder says, and you do that by “showing that you’re not afraid, by cooperating with your neighbors, and by organizing.”
Snyder emphasizes a lesson of the “Wall of Moms” in Portland, Oregon, in late summer 2020, who helped drive up the political cost and terrible optics for Trump’s most heavy-handed crackdown on public dissent. Launching tear gas at Black Lives Matter protesters looked different on TV when the feds were brutalizing a wall of white mothers in gold shirts, locking arms at the front of the crowd. “It’s about corporeal politics,” Snyder says. “Getting your body out where there are other bodies — with people who are maybe not like you or maybe less privileged than you.”
Here, Snyder insists, is where the American public has its most important, and perhaps most challenging role to play. “The Trump-Vance initiatives can only work by getting the population involved — and basically corrupting us,” he says. Snyder argues that even Americans who might share anger with Trump about immigration may yet be recruited to block the border camps promised by Stephen Miller.
“That’s the kind of active thinking that folks have to do — am I going to become the kind of person who takes part in this sort of thing? Am I going to become the kind of person who denounces my neighbors because they are not documented?”
“If Their Rights Are on the Line, My Rights Are on the Line”
A key to resisting authoritarianism, Snyder says, is standing up for the rights of the least powerful first. “If protest comes down to the people who are protesting only because they have to, then you always lose,” he says. “It has to be people who are one, two, three, four, even five steps away from being directly affected who show solidarity — and who also show pragmatism and wisdom by getting out early.
“If you’re more privileged, you should be thinking, ‘What can I do for the least privileged people?’” he says. “If their rights are on the line, my rights are on the line. That’s not just a moral position. It’s actually, politically, 100 percent correct.”
In the meantime, Snyder advises, America’s system of federalism offers hope for democracy at the state and local level. “Many things are going to be terrible. But controlling the federal government doesn’t mean you’re controlling everything,” he says. He exhorts Americans to support the institutions closest to them that uphold democratic norms — “whether that means some civil society organization, or state government, or a local mayor” — and collectively try to strengthen those bodies.
[End article text.]
~~~~~
#effective resistance starts now#information gladly given#it's a fucking battle cry#long post#this insane agenda stops with us#animal j. smith
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Summer Getaway ft. EVERGLOW Yiren
A/N: This is a pitch I got from a friend outside of Tumblr, and it took me a long time to write since I’ve been working and planning the wedding, sorry about that. I have no doubt that this will become second-to if not more popular than Field Trip. I don’t have a lot to say about it so as not to spoil anything, so here we go.
-상훈
Length: 7.33k
Possible TW: Spanking, dom/sub kink
Tags: Spanking, choking, domination, dom/sub kink, drunk sex, sir kink
It had been a long senior year at Hanyang University. Very, very long.
With a major in psychology, a minor in health studies, and a hopeless career path, classes had been hard. I hadn’t even had my best friend, Yiren, in classes with me.
Yiren and I were more than friends. We had been dating for a little more than nine months, but she was still my best friend. She was not only exactly the type of girl I was interested in, but the exact type of friend I wanted to keep close. It had been with great disappointment that I had found out that my girlfriend would not be in classes with me at the beginning of the year. She would have been the only way psychology would be in any way interesting.
But now the year was over. A buddy of mine had offered me and Yiren his mountain cabin for the summer. He wasn’t going to be using it, he and his family were on vacation, so he would be touring Europe with his parents and sister.
The cabin, we found out when we arrived there, was a palatial, stone brick château with three stories and a balcony on the second. The balcony overhung the door, two large stone pillars supporting the structure. It had an very antiquated feel to it, though the sound structure still held up. My friend had told me it was over 200 years old, which I believed from the look of it. Whether it was 2 years old or 2000 though, I was happy to be here.
“It looks nice, doesn’t it oppa?” Yiren asked, arms wrapped around my arm, as we stood there and surveyed the cabin.
“Yeah, it does. Old, but very nice.”
“Three stories…wow.” She marveled at the sheer height of the place. “That's more than my house has. Come on, let's go inside.”
I slid the key into the lock and turned it, opening the door to reveal the interior.
It gave a very cozy, log-cabin-ish vibe. The blinds were shut, allowing very little daylight in. The lamps had turned on the moment we entered, dimming slightly once we shut the door. Plush rugs covered just about every square inch of the vast living room, where soft chintz armchairs and smooth leather couches sat, pillows arranged invitingly. The fireplace could have allowed three grown men ample sitting space, and the overhanging limestone mantle was decorated with ornate wood carvings. Mounted on the wall just above the mantle was the biggest TV I had ever seen, at least 85 inches across.
To the left of the fireplace was a bathroom, through the open door of which I caught a glimpse of a gold-rimmed mirror.
The rather titanic kitchen was a chef’s dream; the walls were bedecked with cabinets, drawers, and shelves full of cooking equipment. Two large ovens with stovetops sat alongside a dishwasher, and on top of its counter were a couple of microwave ovens. A kettle, coffee maker, waffle iron, iron griddle, and a shelf of teas, coffees, hot chocolates and various other drink mixes sat along another. Four more long shelves along the opposite wall held just about every kind of alcohol I could have asked for; bottles of whiskey, vodka, rum, gin, various liqueurs (fruit flavors like coconut and orange), tequila, port, Hennessy, and margarita sat assorted on them. Another, smaller shelf held cooking sherry, brandy, and bourbon. A wine rack nearby held several bottles and, I was surprised to see, one bottle each of Petrus 2012 (costs about $30k in real life), Armand Rousseau Chambertin Grand Cru ($19k), Versos Amontillado ($13k) and Vieux Chateau Certan Pomerol ($6k).
“Wow,” I said, taking out the Petrus and examining it. “I guess his family is richer than we thought.”
“What makes you say that?” Yiren asked while looking at the coconut liqueur.
“The fact that they have a bottle of wine in here that costs about thirty thousand dollars, and a few other expensive ones.”
“Huh, make sense.”
After looking into the pantry, which was the size of a walk-in closet and had enough food to feed a small town, we made our way to the staircase to upstairs. Six bedrooms took up this floor. We went straight to the master, which was as large as a neighborhood cul-de-sac.
The bed’s size could be compared to that of a midieval portcullis, with a deluxe king size mattress and nightstands on either side. A few dozen pillows were laid delicately across it, each with its own gold-laced pillowcase. An intricately carved wooden frame with a canopy structure and drapes held up the mattress. A pair of French doors were built in on the opposite wall from the door, which led out to the balcony, which spanned about twenty feet. Gorgeous scenery was what I laid my eyes on when I looked through the doors, a great view of the surrounding mountains and forest. The bathroom was off to the left from the entrance and Yiren made a beeline for it the moment we entered the room.
I followed her inside and was stunned. The same gold-framed mirror stretched across the wall, with three sinks and a vanity under it. White LEDs rimmed it, lighting up the bathroom when Yiren walked in.
“Oooh!” She squealed, looking around excitedly. I knew well by this point that the bathroom was her favorite and most valued part of a house, so it was always what she looked at with the most judgement. But she found nothing to criticize about this one, and looked very pleased to have access to it for the next two months.
“Like it?” I inquired, amused at her expression. “I’d say it’s pretty impressive.”
“Tell your friend I love it!” She said, positively radiating joy and excitement. “This is amazing!”
She ran to me and hugged me, then went to look around again.
I took a look into one of the drawers below the mirror and saw a vast array of hair and skin care products, no wonder my friend had good skin and hair.
Beyond the mirror space, there was the tub, which she was already scrutinizing. It held the same old feel with the weathered stone slabs making up the rim, but the pristinely white jacuzzi tub looked like it had been crafted yesterday. Bordering the bathtub was a large glass shower, with a rainfall showerhead on the ceiling and a nozzle clipped to the wall just below it, with multiple different kinds of shampoo, body wash, shower gel, and conditioner. A closet was off to the left of the door into the room, and after appraising the tub and shower we made our way to it. It was as big as the kitchen downstairs, and that was saying something. Multiple racks full of clothes were set into their pole grooves, and several racks of shoes rested on the floor. They weren’t ours, so we didn’t mess with them.
The floor above that was just one enormous game room. Pool, air hockey, foosball, mini golf, and several others were strewn around. A walled-off area seemed to be designated to archery and airsoft target practice, something I approved of. Another bathroom was at the far end, something I didn’t need to explore again. After looking around for a bit, we went back to my car to unload our baggage.
The cabin was about ten miles from any kind of civilization, which made for a nice and secluded area for a summer getaway, but it would be a bit of a pain in the ass driving back and forth through the unpaved roadway to the nearest town. But we had brought food, and there was food in the house, so we were fine for the time being.
“Oppa?”
I heard Yiren’s voice call from upstairs a while later.
“Yeah?” I called back.
“Are you up for a hike? I hear they have great trails up here.”
“Sure, I’m down.”
I got up off the couch and went up there to see her.
“You did bring the hiking boots, didn’t you?” She asked, seeing me upstairs.
“Yes, of course. We can’t go to a mountain lodge without hiking boots.”
“True. Hold on for a minute, I have to change.”
She disappeared into the master bedroom and the sounds of rustling clothes could be heard from inside. I leaned my head over a bit to see past the doorway and found her raised eyebrows staring back at me while she slipped off her jeans, taking her panties with them.
“Peeping, oppa?” Her playful voice sounded as she turned away to her bag, and I would have challenged a Buckingham Palace guard not to look as she bent over slightly to retrieve her leggings.
I walked slowly into the room where she was rummaging in her suitcase and stopped behind her as she straightened up, leggings in hand, and placed my hands on her waist. She leaned backwards into my touch and sighed as I stroked her hips.
“Oppa, don’t tease me…”
I paid this no attention and moved my hands lower, sliding my palms over her naked thighs.
“Stop it, we’re going to hike, wait until later.”
Reluctantly, I paid her some heed and went to the dresser to get my bag and keys while she got dressed. And thus, a few short minutes of driving later, we arrived at the entrance to the trail.
…
The trail was nice and peaceful, with flat paths and beautiful scenery. It was rather tranquil, with the occasional squirrel or chipmunk darting across the rocky path in front of us. But of course, Yiren couldn’t let me enjoy the little things like that, she had to wear something skintight on both halves, and had to walk in front of me, which distracted me from any of the scenery.
So it was with slightly exerted legs and a straining bulge that I completed the trail, a fact Yiren was perfectly aware of.
Mind almost numb with lust by the time we got back into the care due to her deliberately dropping her phone and bending over to pick it up, I started the engine of my car and drove away toward the cabin.
I was again surprised by its immense size even though I had seen it an hour previously. We walked to the door, unlocked and opened it, and that was as much time as Yiren needed to latch onto me the moment I closed the door.
I turned around from the door and she was instantly there, wrapping her arms around my head and pulling me into a deep kiss. A moan sounded from her as my tongue sought entrance into her mouth, and I pulled her by the hips closer, so she could feel the bulge in my jeans. She started grinding herself against it, still kissing me with intense passion.
I half-carried her up the stairs to the bedroom and set her down on the mattress, where she laid on her back with her legs spread enticingly, eyes glittering with lust.
After shutting the drapes around the bed, I removed my shirt and saw her bite her lip at the sight of me shirtless, a fact I took heed of and tossed my shirt elsewhere, settling my hips between her thighs. I made sure she could acutely feel the tent in my pants against her, and she definitely did feel it.
Her breaths became shorter and more frequent, a sure sign of growing neediness. Her hips started moving of their own accord, grinding up against me. I felt this and got off her.
I hooked my thumbs under the waistbands of my jeans and boxers and pulled them off, finally freeing my cock from its denim prison, while she quickly removed her own clothes in my peripheral vision. She looked at me once I straightened up, bit her lip again, and her hand sneaked along her waist towards her pussy.
I was amazed for the millionth time by the fact that she had a body like a Greek goddess. To verbally describe the intensity of the lust her body induced would have been impossible.
I stepped forward and grabbed her hand, tearing it away from her leaking pussy, replacing the fingers with my tongue.
Her reaction was immediate. Her hands shot to my head and pulled, and she gave a short cry every time my tongue penetrated her. I targeted the spots I knew would pleasure her the most.
“Yes, fuck!” Her mouth was wide open and she was taking shallow breaths, giving short moans and gasps on the exhale. “Yes, don’t stop oppa it feels so good!”
I pressed by thumb to her clit while I continued the circular swiping motion with my tongue, which was quite effective to say the least. Her cries became sharper, her breaths more shallow, all building up to her climax.
“I’m gonna cum oppa, keep going, I’m cumming! AHH!”
How turned on I was could not have been described in words as her juices gushed out, into my mouth, and over my face. Her hands trembled as they clutched at my hair, and she had a small out-of-body experience as the pleasure of a second orgasm briefly took her to another realm of consciousness. I was in heaven right along with her, nothing was more satisfying that pleasuring her to an orgasm.
When she came back to earth I had gotten up, dried my face, and laid down on the bed beside her. The section of sheet under her lower half was soaked, as were her thighs and pussy. Her eyes were unfocused and dreamy, her chest heaved while her extremities still trembled.
“Oppa…”
She had turned her head towards me and I could almost see the hearts in her eyes as she looked at me.
“That was…so good…”
She spoke each phrase between breaths. If she thought what I had just done effortlessly was good, she had yet to feel what would happen when I was pounding her and completely abandoning any restraint.
I turned myself towards her and put my arms around her, though the effect was kind of ruined by my stiff cock poking her in the thigh, which made her giggle. She turned over and maneuvered down between my legs, placing her hands on my thighs as she stared fixedly at my length like a lion looks at its dinner, and I could tell she was about to go to town.
“I’m really hungry oppa,” she purred deviously, each word laced with teasing, while her hands performed slow strokes over my length, “I think I need to be fed, hmm?”
I took the cue and grabbed a fistful of her hair, pulling her lips down over my cock, and then everything else disappeared. Her lips parted and then slid smoothly over my shaft, a fresh coat of saliva washing over me.
“Fuuuck,” I groaned, unable to contain the immediate pleasure that filled me. “Fuck Yiren, that feels amazing!”
Each bob of her head made its way closer to my base, and she got a little more than three quarters before she started gagging. She moaned, gasped, gagged, and choked, but she didn’t give herself a break, even for a moment. She was hungry, and I was the only thing that could sate her appetite. Hearing my moans, she upped her speed. Her tongue slid over the underside of my cock, stretching out to flick my balls, while she forced her own head further down on me. My entire length was lodged inside her mouth and throat, and I felt myself very quickly nearing a climax.
“You’re going to make me cum,” I panted, getting even more turned on by her moans and small ‘mmm’s of satisfaction. “I’m gonna fucking cum down your throat, keep doing that!”
She took heed of this and slid her head all the way down my cock once more and held there, and with an almighty groan and a bed-rattling thrust of my hips I buried myself in her throat and spurted my load down it, a fact she was very pleased with. She bobbed her head rapidly, throating my cock a final few times and swallowing every single drop. And she couldn’t resist holding her head down on my now hypersensitive rod for another few seconds, simply loving the feeling of having her throat penetrated.
I lost count of the seconds she held herself there, I wasn’t really paying attention. Twenty, thirty, forty, somewhere around forty-five I lost count, and then she pulled up, dislodging me from her mouth and gasping for some much-needed oxygen, though her face showed pure enjoyment.
She dragged herself up the bed and settled next to me, sighing contentedly.
“I love you oppa.”
I drew her closer under the thoroughly stained blanket with one arm, using the other to run my fingers through her hair.
“I love you too, Yiren. Always.”
I could practically hear her purring as the warmth from my body emanated off me, and she snuggled in close, planting a small kiss on my jaw. I turned my head to receive and respond to her second kiss, and put my hand around her head.
Before I knew it, she was on top of me and we were kissing passionately, soft moans leaving her mouth as our tongues met. I found my cock returning to full life, and she most assuredly did, since her already-wet pussy was handily positioned right above it.
I flipped her over and pressed myself down on her. My tip rubbed against her sensitive folds, causing her to give tiny sighs of pleasure.
And then I pushed into her tight warmth. The insane tightness of her walls squeezing every part of my shaft was making me see stars, and there was quite a lot of resistance as I determinedly pushed inside her.
She moaned as I bottomed out inside her, my tip brushing spots inside her that I didn’t even know existed at that depth.
“Fuck me oppa.”
That was my cue to begin my thrusts, quickly increasing the speed and intensity of them. I landed a slap on her jiggling ass and immediately her pussy clenched around me and she cried out. I timed my spanks with each thrust of my hips, and her various obscenities also fell in rhythm.
“Oh - god - fuck - yes!” She said, each word coming out in time with the spanks. “Feels - so - good - fuck!”
I took her ponytail in my hand and pulled back, forcing her face up, her moans becoming higher in pitch at my pulling. Her back bent up so she was almost kneeling as I fucked her, and with my other hand I paused the spanks and reached around to squeeze her breasts, only heightening her arousal. Her hands gripped the hand caressing her chest.
“Please oppa, fuck me harder,” Yiren half-whispered, which I knew to be a sign that she was nearing an orgasm. “Your cock is so deep in me, it feels so good!”
I did as she asked and fucked her harder, abandoning all restraint as I slammed my hips into hers, the sounds of skin on skin getting louder as my hips met her ass. It was becoming difficult to resist the hypnotic jiggle of her ass and the way her pussy was exquisitely gripping my cock, massaging as I pistoned in and out. I was about to cum, as I realized it, and there was nothing I could do about that now.
And then, before I knew it:
“So fucking good, yes! Fuck oppa I’m cumming, FUCK!”
“Shit, I’m cumming as well, fucking take it all!”
We met our orgasms at the same time, sharing that moment of bliss together. Her juices splattered my legs as they sprayed out, accompanied by her scream of pleasure, always reserved for just such a moment of satisfaction. The feeling was pervading up my entire body, immense pleasure before my actual release. Yiren gasped twice and moaned quietly at the deluge of hot cum that flooded her tight pussy. I kept fucking her at a slower pace, now the only things audible were the wet slaps of our skin and her occasional murmured expressions, as she rested somewhere between this bed and heaven itself.
“So good…feels so…feels so good…ohh yes just like that…”
I got the impression from what she was saying that she was very near unconsciousness. It wouldn’t surprise me, since she had just had a very intense orgasm. I pulled out of her with a lewd squelch and a large quantity of cum rushed out of her.
“Ahhh…ohh yes…I love you oppa…”
I settled in front of her as she flopped over onto her side, breathing very heavily. I rubbed her back as she moved close, nimbly stroking all the spots I knew she loved, and she purred into my neck.
“I love you too, baby.”
…
I got up a while later, put on my clothes, and after giving the half-asleep Yiren a kiss, I went up to the kitchen to start preparing dinner. It was a quality that especially attracted her to me, the fact that I could cook, and well. She always said that a man who could cook was a man who wouldn’t have trouble finding women.
Jjajangmyeon was a personal favorite of both of ours, and so it was what I started making. I was nearly finished when the sound of the bedroom door opening sounded behind me and she entered the room wrapped in a blanket, yawning.
“Did you sleep?” I asked, industriously stirring the noodles.
“Yes.” She yawned again. “For a little bit.”
“Good,” I replied, “because you’re not going to be doing much of it tonight.”
She giggled and peered into the pot.
“Jjajangmyeon?”
“Indeed.” I put the spatula down and turned to her. “Just how we both like it.”
She hugged me, the top of her head barely brushing my chin.
“Aww oppa you didn’t have to, I could have done it.”
I put my arms around her shoulders and pulled her into a tighter embrace.
“I know. That’s why I’m doing it.”
Yiren hugged me tighter and buried her face in my shirt, and I could feel her smile against my chest.
“I love it when you do this.”
Her words warmed my heart, and I smiled as well.
“I do it all the time, you’d think some of the novelty would be lost.
She snorted. “Well, it hasn’t.”
I turned back to the wok and stirred my stir fry, my arm still around her shoulders.
“What do you say we pop open some of that Hennessy after dinner?”
“Sounds good to me. That stuff hits hard, though.”
“Precisely.” I said. “We might not even have to use a lot.”
“That looks like it’s done.” She said, nodding at the pot of noodles.
“I’m aware.” I replied. “Would you get out the bowls?”
She got out the bowls and two pairs of chopsticks as I turned off the fire on the stovetop. I dragged the noodles out of the pot and into the bowls and spooned the sauce onto them. She took them to the table and set up two chairs across from each other while I got out a bottle of choice Pinot Noir from the rack along with two glasses.
“Wow, you really are trying to get drunk, aren’t you?” She raised her eyebrows.
“Not really, but I’m not trying not to, if you catch my drift.”
She just smirked, absolutely catching my drift and knowing the outcome. I sat down after pouring the wine and setting the glasses down in our places.
Dinner passed quickly. The bowls had been cleared fairly quickly. I had sipped my wine away already, but Yiren always left hers to sit out for a while, the reason for which I never knew.
By the time she picked her glass back up I had poured myself some water as a beforehand countermeasure to the many measures of Hennessy we would be sharing.
While I was thinking about it I got up and grabbed the bottle of Hennessy, setting it down on the table.
“Cheers,” she said happily, raising her glass. I raised mine and then drank from it as she followed suit.
“Good choice.” She said, after a moment of consideration. “Very nice hints of different flavors.”
“I know,” I said, taking another mouthful of water. “Pinot Noir is always good. But my friend imports his wine from places France and Spain and Italy, places which do wine the right way.”
“Speaking of your friend, where is he on vacation?”
“In Switzerland right now, but in a few days he’ll be somewhere else in Europe, I don’t know. I’d have to ask him.”
She took another small sip of wine before speaking again.
“Well, I can truthfully say that there’s no place I’d rather be then right here with you.”
She leaned across the small table and poked me in the chest, a playful smile gracing her lips. I caught her hand before she could draw it away and pulled her into a kiss. Her body seemed to relax into it, and a slightly muffled sigh was audible. When we broke the kiss off and sat back down, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were alive with desire.
“Damn, we haven’t even started drinking yet and you’re already losing it.”
Yiren blushed harder at my sentence. She said nothing, but something changed in her expression. She got up from her seat, abandoning her wine, and strode around the table to me. The next thing I knew, she was sitting in my lap, hands pulling my face towards hers. She moaned as her lips locked with mine, tongue entering my mouth, meeting with my own.
She pulled away, looking at me with the dim-ish light dancing in her eyes, a deep blush spread across her cheeks.
“How about that Hennessy now, huh?” She said.
I reached for the bottle and unscrewed the top, as she turned to the side. I took a healthy swig of it myself before reaching for the shotglasses. The alcohol burned in my throat as it went down and I took a deep breath in.
We both downed a shot together. She coughed and winced as she swallowed, but nodded when I looked concernedly at her.
"I'm alright."
She reached for her second shot and swallowed it with me.
"How quick does this stuff kick in?" She asked as the glasses were once again refilled.
"Quickly."
After successfully downing three shots and of the liquor, we sat back and waited on the couch. I had made the mistake of impatience while drinking once before, and it was not going to happen again.
And then it hit.
And when it hit, it hit hard.
"Whoa," I slurred as the room started spinning before my eyes, "Yiren, you feeling it?"
She gave a tipsy giggle and fell forward, still laughing.
"I dunno, I've never been drunk bfore..."
Through the haze of drunken stupor I was seeing, I looked down and saw her ass, so sexy and perfectly positioned...she was even bent over my lap, too...I had no chance of resisting the urge.
"Ah!" She yelped as I slapped her ass, then giggled again. "Oppa..."
"More..."
I gladly complied, landing more punishing smacks on her ass. With each spank she tensed and gave a small, cute cry.
Normally my dominant side stayed at a minimum, but I had to admit to myself that in my drunk state it was starting to take over my brain. I found myself increasing the intensity of my smacks and taking pleasure in it, causing her cries to rise in volume quickly.
"Nngh yes, keep spanking me oppa!" She whimpered, swiftly approaching her peak. "Ah! Fuck yes, keep doing that!"
I kept spanking her and reached around to caress her breast with my other hand. Her moans kept building until finally she orgasmed with a squeal, the crotch of her shorts becoming very wet.
Yiren took quick, shallow breaths to calm down after cumming, and when she had sufficiently recovered she rolled over on my legs to face me.
"That was fun oppa, we should go to the bedroom."
I blinked hard. "Shit, I dunno if I can walk."
She scoffed. "Come on, let's go."
I clumsily got up off the couch and weaved my way up the stairs and to the bedroom, stumbling three times on the way there. I dimmed the lights as I entered, then fell forward onto the bed, rolling over and scooting up to let my head rest on the pillow. My shirt was going to be an unnecessary accessory once she got up here, so I removed it and tossed it aside.
She entered the bed and slid the drapes shut behind her, wearing only her soaked shorts, panties, and a bra. I was already hard from the light spanking I had given her, but the mere sight of her sexy, half-naked body was enough to double my stiffness.
She clambered across the bed and straddled me, leaning down to kiss me. I accepted it only for a second, then gripped her hips and rolled over, so I was on top.
I kissed her more aggressively now, pressing my tongue against her lips to gain entry. She eventually gave in, but we both knew she was tantalizing herself by holding out, she wanted me. She gave a tiny sigh of pleasure.
I broke off the kiss and left her blushing and panting, eyes sparkling.
"God, you're so sexy when you're drunk." She murmured to me, holding my face with both hands.
"Really?" I said, locking eyes with her. "Then maybe I should do it more often."
Normally and drunkenly, Yiren's submissive side stayed at a minimum. It balanced with her enjoyment of being in control for a pretty neutral attitude. But I could see in her deep brown eyes a need. Whether she could feel it or not, I could tell that she needed to be dominated, badly.
"Hello?" Her voice said from a long way off, the sound trying desperately to be heard over the pounding of my own heart in my ears. "You gonna do something? Or will I have to do it myself?"
She was baiting me, and I knew it. Trying to spur me into fucking her. But it wasn't going to happen yet.
"Yeah, I'm gonna do something." I growled. "And you're gonna take it, like it or not."
A shudder ran through her at my words, but she maintained her cocky, playful attitude.
"Ooh, he's getting feisty. Someone's a little drunk."
I could feel annoyance rising at her words, which was exactly what she wanted, of course. She observed me with satisfaction.
"Okay, that's it." I got off her, opened the drapes, and stood up, removing my jeans and boxers. She automatically got off the bed and knelt in front of me as I sat on the edge of it, knowing my intention. I wasted no time in grabbing her hair and forming it into a ponytail in my hand, grasping none too lightly. She gasped at my sudden roughness, and I used the opportunity of her mouth already being open to shove my cock into it.
She choked as my tip poked the back of her throat, but didn't resist as I slowly pushed further in, bringing her face to the base. She gagged, and I pulled her head back by the ponytail before slamming my hips into it again, driving my length down her throat. Over and over I brought her face back before plunging it back down, spearing her throat with my cock.
Tears gathered in her eyes when she choked, gagging obscenely on my dick. After a bit she started moving by herself, her neck on autopilot, ramming her face into my crotch. Saliva spilled down her face and dripped off her messy chin to her bra-clad breasts below. Light mascara streaks tracked down her face, joining the mess at her lips.
Yiren brought her head down one more time and held it there for a second, a choking sound resounding, before pulling off, gasping and breathing heavily. She looked at me, panting, and I felt the promise of an orgasm drifting away.
"Why'd you stop?"
"I want you to cum inside me."
I reached forward and lifted her onto the bed, setting her down none too gently on her back. I held my hand on her throat, choking her, not enough to cause damage.
She caught her breath at the rough treatment, clearly turned on. But I wasn't going to hold off on that domination.
"You want?" I breathed into her face, her pupils dilating in arousal. "Maybe you need a reminder of who's in charge."
She said nothing, but I could see a subtle change in her expression. I grabbed the waistband of her shorts and panties and pulled them over her slender legs and off her feet. Her pussy was already soaked and shining with arousal.
Yiren, still keeping up her cocky demeanor, gave a huge fake yawn and smirked cheekily. I narrowed my eyes and then reached up and tore the bra off her, making her yelp. However overweening she was acting, I could see in her face a desire to be dominated. And that was a desire I was more than willing to satisfy.
I crawled forward, lifted her legs up, and sheathed myself to the root inside her tight, wet pussy. "Fuck!" She cried out as I pushed into her. She moaned and gasped when I bottomed out inside her, firmly prodding her cervix. Her quick, high-pitched breaths heightened my arousal.
My brain was far too cloudy to control my desire, so my thrusts were fast and rough. I relentlessly pounded her, not holding back a bit and not sorry at all. I gave her ass quick smacks randomly every few thrusts, making her yelp every single time.
Her brows contracted and turned up, and her mouth stayed slightly open, her face falling into that angelic expression of bliss that never failed to make me shiver in pleasure myself.
"Oh - fuck - yes - harder - please!" She whimpered in time with my strokes. I lowered my face to her ear.
"Now remind me," I growled, her moans filling my own ears, "who's in charge?"
She barely managed to get the words out inbetween her cries. "You oppa! You're in charge! I belong to you!"
I gave her ass a hard slap, somewhat dissatisfied with her answer. "Then say it right, slut."
"I'm yours, sir!" She cried again, "I belong to you only!"
"Good girl." I said in a low voice, and I felt her shiver under me. I slowed my thrusts to a calmer pace, more to tantalize her than anything else. She was near an orgasm, I could tell, so I kept the strokes at a steady pace with a lot of force.
"Sir, please," She begged, her juices leaking out around me, clearly turned on by my dominance, "Fuck me harder, make me cum for you." Cleverly worded so as to make it like this was for me, not for her. I was not, even in my drunk-as-fuck state, going to fall for that.
"Why would I do that?" I said to her dismay, evilly grinning. "You were such a bad girl earlier, why should I reward you?"
"I'm sorry, sir!" She said breathlessly, her eyes full of desperation. "I'm sorry I was bad! Please, sir, fuck me and make me cum!"
I couldn't really help but give in, since my libido was screaming at me. So I picked up the pace and resumed my uncontrolled plowing of her tight cunt, the resistance smoothed somewhat by the enormous amounts of slick she was producing.
With every subsequent thrust, her moans became louder snd her words dirtier as I brought her nearer to her peak.
"Mmhh yes sir, fuck me harder! It's so good, fuck! I'm gonna cum for you sir!"
I pushed myself up from my elbows and held a hand to her neck, pushing down just enough to make her enjoy it. She took a sharp breath and opened her eyes, pupils dilated.
"Shut the fuck up and take it, slut," I said, groaning despite myself.
"Yes, sir," she gasped, moaning, as I pushed deeper. "Oh fuck, I'm gonna cum!"
She wasn't lying. Her voice died momentarily as her eyes rolled into her head and she bucked her hips up into me, a gush of cum spraying my abdomen. She found her voice after a second, and let out a short, loud "ah", mouth open. Her hips continued their motion seemingly independent of her pleasure-addled brain.
Her moans subsided, and an idea came to me. I reluctantly pulled out of her, a lewd squelch sounding. She lay there, unmoving, eyes open and practically heart-pupiled. I walked to the french doors leading to thr balcony and opened them, a rush of cool night air sweeping over me.
Yiren lifted her head slightly at the sudden cool draft and pushed herself up with slightly trembling arms. I went back to the bed and lifted her off it easily, then set her down on her front on the soft white couch oustide. She gave a tiny gasp as a breeze of cool air moved over her naked pussy.
"Sir...
"Fuck me again..."
I was still rock hard despite the cool air, so I climbed onto the couch with her. Her head was laying sideways towards the dark scenery, her arms were stretched out in front of her, and her ass was sticking up in the air, perfectly positioned for me to fuck.
I slid my cock back into her wet heat, drawing a languid whimper from her mouth and clenching my jaw with a groan. I started off slow, with gentle, even thrusts, Yiren moaning softly beneath me.
"Mmm fuck yes you're so deep in me oppa..."
I kicked the pace up a little and started thrusting faster and harder, quickly turning her moans to cries as I pounded her tight pussy.
"Mmhh fuck! Pound me harder please sir! Pound my little pussy! So good, fuck, yes yes please harder! So fucking big inside me, yes! Nghh oh god yes, use me, fuck!"
Her words flicking every arousal switch in my brain to 'on', I went even faster, giving it everything I had to keep pushing into her. Beads of sweat formed at my hairline at the effort. Yiren was reduced to a mewling, whimpering, moaning mess, unable to form coherent words in her pleasure. I slapped her ass hard and she cried out.
"Please - sir - harder! Oh - yes - slap me - sir!"
I spanked her harder and she arched her back, a small yelp escaping her with every thrust I gave. Pleasure was building in my lower abdomen like resistance from a compressed spring, my abs and obliques tensing in preparation.
"Yes sir, give it to me! Fuck me harder please! Nghh yes, I'm gonna - I'm gonna - fuck, I'm cumming sir!"
"Fuck!" I groaned, as she gave a particularly sexy cry that sent shivers down my spine, "Yiren baby I'm gonna fucking cum!"
"Yes - please - sir!" She managed through her high-pitched whines of bliss. This, combined with her usage of "sir", was all the initiative I needed to cum inside her.
"Oh my god yes, FUCK!" I almost roared, slamming my hips into hers one last time, burying my cock so deep inside her that it touched her cervix again and blasting her insides with hot cum. My release triggered hers, and she orgasmed again with a scream, spraying her cum out onto me.
I rolled over and off her, sliding out to let a large amount of cum come spilling out of her. She gave another soft moan and then rolled over to face me. I pulled her closer and her face and body were very hot despite the 6°C temperature outside.
"So good... oppa I love you..."
"I love you too, baby."
...
I must have fallen asleep, since when I awoke it was about 8 o'clock in the morning, judging by the sun's position. Yiren was snoozing peacefully beside me. As I slowly returned to a waking state I realized that I was stiffer than a wood plank again. Yiren's sleeping body was looking incredibly sexy, and I was entirely unable to control my sudden desire. I pulled her closer to me and pushed into her again, quietly groaning. She gave a soft moan in her sleep. I started very slowly, but even this was enough to stir her from her slumber. She breathed in deeply and shifted slightly, and I continued my thrusts, making her whine faintly. She steadily returned to conciousness, moaning more and tightening around me.
"Oppa?"
"Yes, baby," I groaned through gritted teeth, listening to her soft mewls of satisfaction. "Oh, fuck..."
Her eyes opened partially, looking lazily out at the trees, and then they closed and her eyebrows contracted upwards as I reached around and started rubbing her clit, making her gasp and whimper.
"A-ah...oh yes, k-keep doing that..."
Her head leaned back into my collarbone and I could smell vanilla in her soft hair. I grabbed her hips and slammed mine into them, driving my cock deep inside her and making her cry a loud "ah".
"Ohh yes yes yes, please keep going, I'm gonna fucking cum again, don't stop oppa!"
I reached and put my hand around her slim neck, squeezing lightly, just enough to give her the sensation I knew she liked. Her intonations of pleasure became unintelligible.
"Yes - fuck - harder - oppa - mmm yes - so good!"
"Fuck, you like that baby?" I squeezed her neck harder.
"Ah! Yes, sir! I love it! Fuck my little pussy harder! Use me! Your cock is so big, so deep inside me sir!"
"Yiren, I'm gonna cum baby," I gasped, moaning in her ear, and I felt her shiver in arousal under me.
"Cum inside me, sir," Yiren panted, arching her back into me. Her hands went to her own breasts, squeezing and massaging, pleasuring her to greater heights. Her eyes closed once more and she let out a shriek of pleasure and a long moan as sbe squirted on me again, arms and legs trembling uncontrollably as her mind whited out.
I briefly lost touch with reality as my own mind was flooded with sensation and I released inside her again. My body shuddered in pleasure and I let out a few swears through gritted teeth, thrusting my way through my orgasm. Yiren gasped and moaned throughout it, loving the feeling of warmth pouring into her.
My muscles relaxed, and I slipped out of her as we both settled down again, panting and satisfied. It was a few minutes before she spoke again.
"Oppa?"
"Yiren, baby?"
She sighed contentedly. "I love you."
"I love you too." I replied, planting a row of kisses on her neck.
"You know what I think oppa?"
"What's that, babe?"
She turned over and faced me, a devilish smirk twisting her lips.
"I think it's gonna be a really fun summer."
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What would be really cute is if a spell backfired temporarily turning alastor into the cursed cat alastor and the reader ends up fawning over him and taking care of him, not realizing its actually him. He's just loving all the attention from her 🤭
I love catlastor! Omg yes! Just a quick little piece while he’s so popular. That is so cute!!
It was, decidedly, not cute. A … raccoon? Mutant Fennec Fox? No, no it was more feline. But, hmm. Maybe hell had their own breeds of trash animals. Either way, you picked up the little creature. Red and black, stupid fucking smile, sharp teeth. It seemed to be shaking? No, vibrating? Quaking?? You struggled to keep it in your hands, but managed to tuck it under your arm like a football.
You had found it roaming the lobby, perhaps it was a resident’s … pet? It cocked it’s head, staring at you while you were staring at it from your bed.
“Psst Psst,” you offered it a piece of meat, but no response. Its eyes searched the room, seemingly not limited in their range of motion. With a screech it launched itself at the mounted deer head above the fireplace.
You pulled and tugged, its jaw locked onto the antlers. “Come on you little shit, come on,” You put your leg against the wall for leverage. Then your other leg. Soon you were hanging from the deer, too, by way of the tiny animal’s legs.
How was it so strong? Determination? Magic? Pure unbridled insanity? The ever dilated eyes seem to beg the latter.
Finally, it lost interest and you both dropped to the ground.
“Do… do you want scratches?”
It’s eyes blinked independently of eachother.
You reached out a trembling hand, focused entirely on the row of yellowed teeth grinning back at you.
With a well placed scratch behind it’s ear, the little creature softened and fell over onto it’s side like a horse about to die.
“Aww?” You wondered out loud, “You like that?” You scooped it up and got comfortable in the plush chair opposite the cold fireplace. “Only Lucifer would think a fireplace in hell made any sense,” you ran your hand down the length of the ball of fur and fangs, “He belongs on a travel size chess set, not designing hotels.”
Your hand jumped, “Are you purring? Wittle Gobwin hates Luci?” It’s tail wagged side to side, “Awww. Okay, yeah, you’re pretty cute.”
You don’t remember falling asleep, but you woke up gasping, struggling to expand your lungs fully. Looking down you found none other than the cannibal deer of the Pride Ring, Alastor, cuddled on your lap.
Too weak to move him, too scared to wake him, you wiggled yourself up enough to breath and pretended to be asleep. It was best, you thought correctly, that he could have the illusion of sneaking out undetected.
The next morning you passed him in the halls, unable to stop yourself from whispering “wittle gobwin.”
Luckily, you were a fast runner.
༻Masterlist༺
∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult: @nonetheartist , fizzled-phoenix , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @fjorjestertealeaf , @pansexual-opera-house , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @roxxie-wolf , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @phobophobular , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @surusurusuru , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum , @ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1
🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan
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─── ˚𝜗𝜚. ⋆ HOPELESS! ᡣ𐭩 .
─── ˚୨୧⋆ 𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎; smut. swearing. sub! reiji sakamaki. humping. toxic relationship..ig. he's fucked in the head, like always.
─── ˚୨୧⋆ PAIRING; reiji sakamaki from diabolik lovers.
♡ Author note : js making stuff up for plot atp . . anyways enjoy x3
Reiji Sakamaki had always struggled with feeling ignored and neglected, especially in back with Beatrice. As an adult, the same feelings persisted, particularly when his own brothers and you disregarded his orders or failed to acknowledge his presence. When you came to live in the mansion under the guise of a “relationship”, your initial hesitation became glaringly obvious. You just followed along to save your soul.
Your last straw was when he poisoned you with none other than his infamous tea. He even claimed that it wasn't laced, and you felt dumb for falling for it twice. His explanation was feeble as if he wasn't even trying. Quickly and calmly shifting blame onto you for being too uncommunicative and refusing to open up to him, that he had to drug you to fish some information about you. It was a transparent attempt to cover up and guard his ego-driven actions. Your anger flew to new heights as you struggled to maintain composure in his presence.
Tables have turned now, and like once said, whatever comes around goes around, he was the one fuming now. He didn't think you'd be mad at him for so fucking long. It's been a whole month.
Your silence and negligence have reached new levels, and so did his sudden desperation. Despite your best efforts to avoid any interaction, Reiji persisted in his attempts to seek your attention. He would sit across from you during meals, his gaze fixed upon you, forcefully demanding eye contact, but all you offered were terse expressions and responses, your head bowed in a stubborn refusal to acknowledge his efforts.
Your hatred for him had grown so intense that you actually began to converse with the triplets mostly after that. The very people you had once found deeply unpleasant and unbearable at first when you came. They seemed almost vitalizing to what you went through with Reiji in comparison.
And ohh, did it affect him.
The last time that you put him in his place was.. sometime in the past two months, probably. He hated you. He hated that you brought up a side of him that terrified yet aroused him, never in his life did he see himself growing needy and miserable for someone, let alone a human being. He could still remember clearly when you first had him on his hands and knees. He practically could still taste the horror rolling off of himself in waves that day when he found out that the sensations you laid on him, pleasurable and not, aroused the shit out of him.
"Stupid, stupid mortal...Never in my immortal life.." Reiji cursed quietly under his breath, each step punctuating his frustration. The usual refinement and elegance he prided himself on seemed to evaporate as his irritation mounted.
A sense of neediness gnawed at the edges of his mind, fueling the flames of his anger. The weight of his discontentment weighed heavily on him, intensifying the gloom that shrouded his immortal existence.
Reiji's steps halted as he reached the chamber door. Confusion etched itself onto his features, but it quickly morphed into a mixture of irritation and frustration. He had expected to find you there, yet the room was now devoid of your presence.
His fists clenched involuntarily as he muttered under his breath, "Where could you be? Always evading me…"
He sighs and walks in anyway, flicking his glasses upwards and fixing them on the bridge of his nose. The sound of his footsteps reverberating in a rhythmic click against the wooden floor.
God..
Your scent was already lingering in the whole room, dominating the limited space. He didn't feel guilty about searching in your drawers or smelling your shirts. No, it was your fault, after all, for neglecting him. If you didn't, and forgave him before, he wouldn't have needed to do this.
It was never his fault.
Reiji's thighs cage the manchette of your chair, it was one of the spots that had your scent the most. They soon squeeze against the solid material, giving a slow, rut forward, a guttural grunt already escapes his throat, his fang pressed down as he bit his lip, holding back any (more) embarrassing sounds that might escape him.
He was so fucking wet already, leaking through his perfectly ironed pants. He ruts against the fabric, imagining it was your thigh instead, roughly fingering him from behind while your teeth graze against his chest and nipples and nip, taking out your frustrations from the day on him— whispering sweet nothings in his ear, that would be either followed by praise or degrading names, the thoughts send his knees weak, he wobbled, accidentally bumping on the sharp edge of the armrest, he stumbles slightly in surprise and euphoria, tearing a loud cry out of him, his hips tremble and he had to pause before his sounds echo through the whole mansion. It hit deliciously right. He holds on to the chair rails, not even bothering to conceal his pathetic whimpers and whines anymore as he ruts and humps furiously against it.
His legs spasm and a shocked, sharp gasp escapes him as he unexpectedly squirts. Reiji's body drops on the chair, and a long shiver runs through his whole body, he arched painfully forward and his gloved hand slaps against his mouth to hold back a wail at the not-foreseen intense sensations. His pink orbs roll back and fill with tears as his hips thrust forward, his orgasm hasn't subsided yet, he feels his pants wetten as his whole vibrates in bliss.
"..Reiji, why's there...white..stuff? On my chair?"
"..."
— don't repost or copy I know where u live 👁
dividers credits go to @anitalenia again x3 ~~♡
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"My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness"…He gives power to the weak, and to those who have no might He increases strength. Even the youths shall faint and be weary, and the young men shall utterly fall, But those who wait on the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint. (2 Corinthians 12:9, Isaiah 40:29-31)
When we realize our drastic insufficiency and admit to God that we are weak, God offers us His strength.
Whenever we cry out to God concerning our complete frailty in any given area of life, His grace is available to meet that need.
Lord, You are my only hope and my strength. On my own I am hopeless and powerless. Thank You for Your grace . I am weak; give me Your power. I have no might; increase Your strength in me. I wait upon You. I put my trust in You. Thank You for Your strength in my life, in Jesus' name, Amen.
#bible verse#daily devotional#christian quotes#bible quotes#inspiration#daily devotion#christian quote#christian life#scripture#bible
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Irresistibly Yours One Shot (Darth Vader x Reader)
Summary: (Y/N) has been hiding across the galaxy for a year, attempting to flee her husband alongside Obi-Wan Kenobi, but now it is over. When the Sith finally tracks her down she must make a choice, continue to live a lie or leave with the man she loves. Takes place during Kenobi with altered events. Reader is previously a Jedi married to Anakin Skywalker.
Warnings: Make out session, mentions of sex, slight violence (not towards reader)
A/N: The poll I made landed in a 50/50 between suited Vader and nightfall Vader so I'm giving you the best of both worlds. In which, Vader wears the suit and mask, but he can take it off and looks like the Anakin we know and love.
“You have to go,” I demanded, turning away from the door in horror.
“(Y/N),” Kenobi pleaded.
“He wants me Obi-Wan, we don’t have a choice,” I reasoned. “You know he will continue to harm those people until I come out from hiding.”
“He’s going to try and take you.”
“And I’ll try and throw him off my trail, at least one of us needs to escape.”
“I understand,” he said, after a moment of silence. “Goodbye, (Y/N).”
“May the force me with you Obi-Wan,” I nodded to him, saying the old phrase intentionally.
“You as well.”
I watched him enter the secret tunnels in the back of the workshop before it slid shut, and audibly sighed. I knew it was hopeless, it wasn’t possible to ever escape him. I couldn’t, not with how well he knew me. A part of me didn’t even agree with Kenobi, as he still believed in the Jedi and being heroes. I had changed, and their morals didn’t resonate with me any longer, not since the fall.
My body shook, as I ran as hard as I could once opening the door. It was loud on purpose, everyone standing in the little street seeing me and yelping in surprise. I saw the inquisitorious point in my direction, calling out my action for their lord. I could feel it, even though I couldn’t see his face beneath the mask. I could feel that he was looking at me, the two of us making eye contact for the first time in a year. He was massive, even taller than before and stronger than ever, right on my tail as I fled. I was quick, my legs carrying me into the maze of shipping crates and dirt from afar. I should have been quieter, but I knew that wouldn’t do much. He could track me in other ways, like the force.
His cold presence clung to my shoulders as I ran between the mounts that acted like walls. I needed to throw him off, but I knew it was impossible. He was too intelligent, too quick. His steps were twice as much as my own, the force connection that bound us inseverable. My heartbeat picked up, so much so I could hear it as if it were right in my ear. My hands were trembling lightly from the thrill of fleeing.
“There is no escape,” his modulated voice said, but I couldn’t tell where it came from.
“I’ll never join you,” I whispered.
The Sith was nowhere to been seen. I backed up, returning to my original pace and attempting to find him again in the pitch black, even though his suit was the same color. He hadn’t ignited his saber yet, although it didn’t make much of a difference, since I hadn’t ignited mine in months. In truth, I hadn’t touched a thing related to the Jedi in a year. All of it, including the force, I severed myself from, up until he started hunting me down.
He invaded my dreams, doing everything in his power to get to me. When he came, it wasn’t painful, it felt amazing, too good; feelings I only experienced in his presence. He tried to pleasure me, sooth me and coax me into joining him, promising to save me from Kenobi. He abused our connection from our time as Jedi’s, seeping into my conscious and speaking to my thoughts, ghosting my body with his invisible touch. Every time I thought of him, I thought of the past. I told myself I didn’t love him, but we both knew it was a lie.
“Really?”
I knocked into something hard, strong hands coming around my upper arms. They kept me in place with ease, essentially locking me in my tracks. I looked up and swallowed, knowing I was done for.
“Vader,” my breath was short. I wouldn't call him Anakin.
“My dear,” he said.
“I am not your dear,” I tried to back up, but it was no use. My chest tightened, feeling his thumb rub my skin comfortingly.
“Yet you are weakening in my hold,” he spoke sweetly, opposite of his reputation. If anyone else rejected him, they would be dead, neck snapped, I knew that.
“You’re a liar,” I said unfearingly.
“You are the only one lying here, (Y/N),” Vader replied. “Don’t deny me any further.”
His voice lit a fire across my entire body, smooth yet so deep I could have lost it right then and there. It took everything to keep my composure, a fake stubbornness still trying to hold up across my face. I wanted so badly to do a million different things. A part of me thought to leave, to escape and flee once again. But another part of me wanted to follow him, leave Kenobi behind, and go into the depths of hell.
“I will never join you, Sith,” I used his new title as an insult. “Now let go of me.”
“Your thoughts betray you, my love,” Vader said. "I feel your conflict."
“I hate you.”
“Hate is not an attribute of a Jedi, or you,” he entertained. “You are too caring to hate.”
He was right, always right, and knew me far too well. I sighed aloud, as he still held me and I could just feel the victorious expression through his mask.
“I married Anakin Skywalker, not you.”
“Anakin Skywalker still remains, but only for your pleasure,” he rebutted. “I am here, waiting for you, my dear. You and I can overthrow the emperor, become the galaxies newest destined rulers. Leave Kenobi and set yourself free, do what we both know you long to. We are mean't to be together.”
I looked into his helm, hoping that I might see his eyes through the blacked-out visors. My lips parted just slightly, breathing hitched as my hands rested on the Sith’s chest. You could see it, Vader's muscles breaching the clothes he wore. The armor fitted his broad shoulders perfectly, hands so skilled and trusted. My head dipped, succumbing to what I truly thought.
“I’m supposed to kill you, to try and run away.”
“I know,” he leaned forward, his mask hovering over my head.
“I told myself I wasn’t going to do this,” I my hands turned into fists, pounding on his chest in frustration.
“But you don’t agree with Kenobi,” he finished.
“I don't."
“So, join me, my dear,” Vader coaxed, placing a leather glove on my jaw to tilt my head upward.
I breathed deeply, my pupils slowly dilating while taking him in.
“Take the mask off."
Surprisingly, the Sith didn’t argue. He let go of me and slipped his thumb around the rim of the helm, like he needed to turn something off. A hissing sound followed, confirming my suspicions, and he lifted it above his head carefully, dropping it onto the ground. I watched it fall, clinking on the ground as if he didn’t care for it. My eyes slowly trailed back up, seeing his true appearance in what felt like forever.
His hair was the same length, wavy and brown, yet in the face he had grown so much. His jawline was even more developed, the scar still remaining on the right brow. The most prominent feature was his eyes, gold with red rimming the irises. His gaze was more alluring than before, a look I easily got flustered from. He grinned at me checking him out and let out a sexy and low laugh.
“Still have the same effect, don’t I?” Vader asked, his actual voice being used.
“Even better,” the words formed before I could think.
His robotic arm curled around the back of my head, the two of us enclosed on the space between. I slid my arms between his neck, kissing him deeply without hesitation. It felt like a war between hell and heaven, holding my breath for as long as possible while taking the Sith in. The further we went, the worse it got, to where I wrapped my legs around his lower waist and he held onto my ass. We would take short breaths touching each other as much as possible during it, enjoying as much as we could, the both of us starved from one another.
It was no surprise Vader got the upper hand, trailing his lips over to my cheek and down to my neck. He carried me over to a tower of crates, one sitting alone in front of the stack, sitting me down on it gently. I leaned back as if it was a wall, and sounds slipped from my mouth naturally. They were rare to come by, not having heard them in months, my husband well aware. I felt Vader smile as he got onto the crate as well and trailed his hand up my thigh to my top. He was straddling me, making me feel like I was weak, and it was to die for.
More whimpers left my lips, and I knew what he wanted. The Sith fiddled with the zipper of my jacket, remaining eye contact with me while doing so. I could feel his hot breath against my skin, forcing me to shudder as he started to take my clothing off. I wanted him so badly, feeling his cod piece harden against my thigh, but we both sensed something nearby. The two of us froze, silent as his cloak shielded me from anyone’s line of sight.
“Obi-wan is near,” I whispered.
“He has come back to try to take you away from me,” Vader said, his hands now placed on both sides so that I was caged in. It was protective, the look in his eyes possessive.
“We must go, you have to have a ship nearby,” I told him.
“I do, follow me,” he nodded.
I slid off the crate, slightly upset we had been interrupted, but there wasn’t time to think about it. Obi-wan would never forgive me if he saw this, and I preferred that I remained on good terms with him. Vader called for his helmet with the force, it quickly suctioning to his hand and then being placed on his head. I kept up with him, weaving through the maze of construction until we got closer to the town. It seemed that most of the Imperial forces had been ordered to leave, Vader having called them off unsurprisingly.
The people that once lingered around were all inside, sleeping away in fear from what happened. Behind all of the buildings was a ship, the shadow of it coming into view from around the corner. It was the infamous Tie-Fighter the Sith always flew in, extremely well developed and luxurious. He lifted up the hatch with a wave of two fingers, offering a hand politely to help me up onto the top. It was only when he got in first and sat down that I realized where this was going.
The ship was small, meant to be a one seater and easy to maneuver. Vader took off his helmet once more before shooting me a suggestive look and patting the inside of his leg. It created little space for me to sit in his lap, but I didn't think much of it, all I knew was that what had stopped before was about to resume.
LMK what you all thought about this. I honestly can't decide which Vader I like more so this was very fun to write
#darth vader x you#darth vader x reader#anakin skywalker x reader#anakin skywalker x you#darth vader imagine#anakin skywalker imagine#darth vader x y/n
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I want more fanfic where it's crimeboys but surrounding the 100 people challenges/social expiriments that Wilbur did. hell, crimeboys is really just a bonus I just want stuff surrounding the expiriments. I want fanfic written about those, what it would be like to be part of one but like from a lore angle. I want Wilbur to be hailed as a God, and I want chaos.
#wilbur soot#the social experiments#fanfic idea#please someone write this I suck at characterization and I won't be able to get the slowly mounting feeling of dread and hopelessness right
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A Demon’s Ache — Part 19
Eyeless Jack x Reader
A Demon's Ache Masterlist
Dedicated to @cookiereblogss --- tysm for all the support you've provided, this series wouldn't be here without you <333
Requests are closed but commissions are open!
Masterlist: x
Just like always, parting from you is difficult
He’s helped you clean up after everything’s been said and done, but even then, he just can’t bring himself to leave
He doesn’t want to abandon the warmth of your body, doesn’t want to abandon the indulgence of your scent surrounding him
And he can almost trick himself into believing it’s mutual
Your gaze lingers on him for a split second longer than usual, and your lips part, almost as if you want to say something
Jack’s never really been a religious man, but he’d pray to every god under the sun if it meant you’d stay with him
Tell me to stay, tell me you want me as badly as I want you
But then you press your lips back together, like you’ve reconsidered your words, and part of his black heart shrivels up and dies just a little bit more
“I should get back to my room,” you say, and when you bite your lip as you say it, all he can think about is kissing you until you’re both dizzy all over again
He swallows thickly, nodding
He wants to say something, but he can’t think of the right words
Tension mounts, filling the sparse distance between you
He can’t bring himself to move
And, from the very first moment he met you, he’s almost always felt like there was something pulling him towards you
But right now, that feeling’s amplified tenfold, and God, the mere thought of parting from you is nauseating
More
All he can think about is how badly he wants more of you
He’s so fucking hopeless
He’s about to lean in to kiss you again, acting purely on some base impulse within him
But then, you blink, as if snapping yourself out of some trance
And you mumble out an excuse, turn away, and leave him behind again
He has to fight every ounce of his being screaming at him to follow you
A few minutes later, he’s lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying his hardest not to think about going to your room
It’s pointless, he knows it is
With one final breath, he sighs, summons the willpower to get up, and tries to find a way to make himself useful
He avoids the hallway that leads to your room, instead opting to take the longer route to the library
Doing research is going to help keep his mind off things, he thinks
Well, it’s either going to distract him, or make things even worse by reminding him of what he did to you
But, at this point, he’s willing to try almost anything to stop overthinking
The warm smell of old books greets him as he enters the familiar room
Rows and rows of imposingly large bookshelves press up against the walls, each of them holding hundreds of colourful books—novels, encyclopedias, bibliographies, scientific studies—whatever topic you could possibly want to read about is kept in this very room
Despite being what could almost be considered the “heart” of the mansion, however, it’s almost always empty
And today is no exception
Jack takes in a deep breath, enjoying the honeyed scent of aged paper and the intimacy of the large empty space
He takes a second to orient himself amongst the rows of information, and then it doesn’t take long for him to find the section on all things demonic anatomy
As soon as he gets settled into his research, he doesn’t notice the time going by
And every time his thoughts drift back to you, he forces his attention back to the task at hand
All he allows himself to focus on are the paragraphs upon paragraphs explaining the compositions of demons
Mating rituals, sexual reproduction, anatomical differences, cultural and generational distinguishers—
He knew the demonic world was complex, but he never realized just how complex it really is
He ends up with a pile of heavy books stacked up next to him at a secluded table
Finding specifics is more difficult than he realized it’d be, especially because he doesn’t exactly know where he fits into things
Does he classify as possessed? A cross-breed? Some kind of undead?
He knows the very basics of what the cult was trying to summon when they created him, but clearly, they didn’t know the ritual properly, or it wasn’t a functional ritual, because he’s damn sure they weren’t planning on ending up with whatever he is now
He’s a fucking walking abomination because of those incompetent assholes
After what feels like arduous hours of research, he only finds anything useful in a mere two of the books he’d initially pulled out
And with his limited information on the specifics of his “breed,” he only manages to gather a couple of points that might be relevant
One; mating marks are much less common between a human and a demon, so both the available information and known effects are even more limited to begin with
Two; the intensity of a mark’s effect generally reach their peak anytime within the first to fourteenth day, and it gradually stabilizes after anywhere between three months to a whole year
Three; the intensity of the effects further depend on the type and strength of the demon, which, while useful to know, is ultimately a null point because, again, Jack’s a fucking abomination of a monster
Four; there are no known ways to reverse the effects of a mark
Reading that fourth point leaves a bad taste in his mouth, but he tries not to dwell on its implications too much
Finally, the fifth point; because shared marks between humans and demons aren’t common, depending on the type and strength of the demon, there’s a high likelihood of the human not surviving the initial peak of the effects—which, again, makes cataloguing the anomaly all the more difficult
That last point is all he can take before snapping the book shut
Fuck
Fuck fuck fuck
He stands, his thoughts racing a mile a minute
He’s about to rush back to you to make sure you’re ok, but as soon as he takes that first step, he stops dead in his tracks
Wait
What’s he supposed to say—he fucked up and bound you to an eternal arrangement, without your consent, and now there’s a chance it’ll fucking kill you?
The implications of it all crash into him like a tidal wave, and he suddenly feels like he’s drowning in a million and one thoughts—each one worse than the last
How badly did he fuck up?
He doesn’t realize how hard his heart’s pounding or how quickly he’s breathing until the room starts to feel like it’s shrinking around him, and he’s not sure if he’s about to puke or pass out
Keep it together, keep it together for her sake
He swallows thickly
Deep breath in, deep breath out
After years of managing his instincts, he, at the very least, has gotten decent at controlling himself when his emotions spiral
Deep breath in, count backwards from ten, deep breath out
It’s ok, he’ll figure something out, he tells himself, and he doesn’t know if he’s blatantly lying to himself, but it doesn’t matter right now, anyways
Right now, he needs to think clearly
He needs a plan
He doesn’t know how much longer he stays at the library, either pacing back and forth, wrestling his frantic thoughts, or standing deathly still with his sight zeroed-in on the books splayed out on the table
It’s like he just can’t think of anything useful—his mind’s a fucking mess
He’s too tense, too high-strung to think properly
He needs to calm down if he wants to get anywhere productive, he realizes
He pauses one last time to weigh his options
And then he blows out a frustrated breath of air, picks up the useful books, and heads out of the library
Straight to his room, he dumps the books on his desk, leaving them open to re-read later, then heads out of the mansion
He tries not to think about you, but it’s just about impossible to stay distracted for more than a few minutes at a time
He registers that it’s dark and cloudy outside when he steps out, but he’s otherwise too absorbed in his own thoughts to focus on his surroundings any more than that
Hunger
If there’s any feeling strong enough to compete with the thought of you, it’s his hunger
He lets it take over, lets himself surrender to his baser instincts, and the rest of the night is basically a blur
You still resurface in and out of his mind, but whenever he sinks his teeth into that squirming human flesh, the sweet burst of blood filling his mouth snaps him out of it all over again
He’s not proud of what he does, but in the heat of the moment, he’s too indulgent to care
He’ll regret it in the morning
He always does
Surely enough, by the time the sun is creeping along the horizon, he’s satiated, yet nauseous with guilt
He returns to the mansion, makes his way to his room, and almost immediately collapses into bed
He’s filthy, covered in dried bits of blood and gore, but that’s a problem for future Jack
Having spent most of his energy, he expects to pass out as soon as his head hits the pillow, but sleep doesn’t come so easily
Instead, he simply lays there in the dark, waiting
And, waiting one minute turns into fifteen, then fifteen minutes turn into half an hour, and before he knows it, the hours are slowly but surely trickling by and he just can’t seem to fall asleep
A dull ache of exhaustion settles in his now-sore muscles
He huffs, rolling over, trying not to let the thought of you permeate his mind yet again
But he just can’t help it
How could he live with himself if something happened to you—how could he live knowing he’s the one who killed you?
He can’t keep pretending it didn’t happen; he needs to confront you and figure things out
But first, he really needs a shower
He gets up, grabs a towel and a change of clothes, and makes it to the nearest bathroom
He throws his shirt off over his head, yanks his filthy pants down, then steps into the shower and lets the warm water wash away his sins
He stands there, motionless, for a few minutes as the water running off his body turns from black, to red, then almost pink as the mess of gore is rinsed off
He grabs the soap, runs it over his ashen skin, and tries to think of a way to broach the subject
He’ll have to be open, honest and genuine; no bullshit, no hesitation, no leaving any information out
And if you hate him for it, then that’s that
It’s not like he wouldn’t deserve it, anyways
Even if you come to loathe every fibre of his being, he needs to stay level-headed enough to handle it
He needs to find some kind of solution with you; he’ll do anything to fix his mistake
The more he thinks it through, the more he’s able to rationalize things
He still feels like total and absolute shit for what he’s done, but at least now, he feels somewhat more in control of himself—at the very least
He finishes rinsing off the remaining soap, steps out, wraps a towel around himself, and returns to his room to get dressed
One last look at the demonology books splayed open on his desk is all it takes for him to finally straighten himself up and head out his room to find you
He doesn’t know what time it is, and he’s too lost in thought to remember to check, but he knows you’re not in your room anyways
Like a strange sixth sense, he feels a tug pulling him towards the kitchen, almost as if there was an invisible string guiding him right towards you
And, surely enough, there you are, sitting at the table with a warm mug of coffee between your hands
On instinct, he takes in a deep breath—and that’s when he smells it
He freezes, stopping dead in his tracks
Feeling someone in front of you, you look up from the coffee between your hands, and your eyes lock with his
Every muscle in Jack’s body tenses
There’s no way, there’s no fucking way
He takes another deep breath—just to check, just to see if somehow got the wrong impression
But there’s no denying it, no masking the scent
Hoodie and Masky—their odour is all over you
He almost doesn’t know what to think
Those fuckers
Those fuckers slept with his mate
“Jack—“
You say his name, but he doesn’t even hear it over the blistering rage pumping through his system
Something within him snaps
The demon takes over again
And all he can suddenly think about is one thing
Kill
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A New Life - Part 2
Pairing: General Marcus Acacius x ofc Cornelia
Word Count: 3200+
Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!
Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.
Summary: After her husband's quick death, Cornelia finds herself back in her childhood home. But when her father passes, her cruel brother Cato becomes Lord of the city. She feels trapped, hopeless, destined for nothing as her brother tortures her day in and out. Until one day, a certain renowned General comes to claim her city in the name of Rome. When her brother hastily offers her up in surrender to the stoic General, Cornelia happily complies. Anything to get away from her brother. But will the General accept her? What fate lies in store for her in the hands of General who has never lost a battle? And will she be able to survive Rome itself?
Notes: sigh. look, I had one scene idea and it became this. If you've ever read anything by me, you know this happens. And just look at Acacius. How could I not? Shoutout to @mermaidxatxheart for tolerating my existence in general for this fic.
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**Reader is not described
Main Masterlist
General Marcus Acacius Masterlist
A New Life Masterlist
The next morning, Marcus wakes early and I help him slide him armor on. I step back and watch him tighten the latches on the side before looking at me, his arms outstretched to his sides.
“Looks good? All latched?”
“Mmhmm,” I tap my chin with my finger. Quickly, I reach up and take the leather barrette from my hair, sliding it under his armor over his chest. I gently place my hand over his armor where it lays and look up at him, his eyes already on me.
“Be safe,” I whisper.
“You as well. Remember what I said.” He reaches out, hesitating a moment before cupping my face, his thumb brushing my cheekbone, his eyes searching my face. But then he blinks, dropping his hand from me. He turns and strides away, disappearing through the flaps of the tent.
Within the hour, all of the troops move out.
It’s quiet. Every sound in the forest making me jump with anticipation. I try to keep busy, cleaning Marcus’s tent, making sure his clothes are cleaned in the washbin, whatever I can find to keep my mind busy and off the fact that Marcus is out there somewhere, having arrows fired at him, swords swung at his head.
Eventually, I can’t take it anymore and I pop outside, walking straight over to Caius as soon as I did a quick scan of the area. We walk to the edge of the camp, waiting by the back end just in case we need to make a quick getaway. I sing and talk to Caius, trying to calm his nerves as he kicks at the ground. What feels like an eternity later, and somehow, no time at all, we hear voices and footsteps, horses pounding the ground on the other side of camp. I slink back, trying to blend in with Caius as I watch the makeshift gate open, soldiers and horses storming through it.
I breathe a sigh of relief at their armor, immediately knowing it was ours. Rome’s? Whatever country I belong to now. As the soldiers move throughout the camp, I can see many wounds, some soldiers bringing back goods and others just trying to make it to their beds. A very familiar chestnut mount strides through the crowd and my breath catches in my throat as I see him.
Marcus, sitting atop his horse, his hand clutching his arm as blood drips down him.
I take Caius and steer him towards our tent, quickly navigating the ground between us and toss his reins over a low tree branch. I turn and see Marcus sliding off his horse, his eyes full of pain but his expression not betraying it, aside from a slightly awkward landing. He heads straight into the tent.
“Cornelia?” He yells, worry in his tone. Concern.
I run, flinging open the flaps and Marcus spins, relief washing over him at the sight of me. I run to him, but stop just short of his massive frame.
“You’re hurt.”
Marcus shrugs. “A flesh wound. It will heal.” The medic comes into the tent then, a simple sewing kit in his hands. I extend my hand, telling him to give it to me. The soldier hesitates and looks at Marcus, who gives him a nod of consent. The soldier passes me the kit and a jug of wine and leaves the tent.
I turn to Marcus. “Can I help you from your armor?”
“Please.”
We manage to get the armor off without disturbing his gash and I can see just how dirty he is. Mud and dried blood cake his body, his hair matted with it and sweat. He’s still so gorgeous. I grab a small bowl and fill it with water, taking a cloth to clean away the area around the gash. It’s deep but not too bad. A simple stitch should suffice.
“I..I’ve never sewn skin before,” I confess to him as I thread my needle.
“How are your sewing skills?”
“I used to make my own togas and pallas. Embroidery too.”
He nods. “You’ll be fine. Make sure to pour the wine over it first.”
I do as he says and he hisses, his arm flexing in pain. Somehow, I manage to stitch him up, distracting him with random questions to keep the pain at bay. I finish and wrap his arm, watching as he circles his shoulder a couple times to make sure it stays in place. He looks up at me, his eyes big and dark. Unable to help myself, I cup his face, brushing some dirt from his cheek.
“I was so worried about you, Marcus. I was afraid I’d lose you.”
He places his hand over mine, his warmth seeping through me. “It will take more than a sword to my arm to take me from this world. Especially since you saved my life.”
My eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean?” I cock my head to the side.
He points to his chest, where I just now realize there’s a nasty tear in the fabric. “An arrow came for me. Tried to take my life. But the metal and leather from your barrette stopped the tip from piercing my skin.” He pulls down his tunic enough for me to see the bruise, but no cut. “If you had not put it there, I would not be here.” He stands up, my hand falling to his broad chest as he looks down at me, a heat spreading throughout me. “Thank you.” He cups his large hand to my cheek, his eyes moving between mine for a moment before he moves in slowly, giving me time to protest.
Like I would.
His lips press to mine, soft and gentle, but an urgency behind their movement. His hand slides around the back of my head, holding me to him as he pushes his tongue in my mouth. A small moan escapes me and he deepens the kiss. My fingers twist in his tunic, desperately trying to get him closer to me. I can feel him pressing against my stomach, hard and wanting, and my body lights with an electricity I hadn’t felt in years.
Even though it kills me to do so, I break the kiss, lingering for a moment before I look at him, his eyes dark, a fire brimming in them. I take his hand and guide him towards our mat. Before I can lay down, he pulls me to him, kissing me with such sweetness and care. He pulls back this time, looking down at me as he brushes a strand of hair from my face. His hand continues down my neck and to my shoulder. Gently, he tugs my palla from my shoulder, letting it drop to the floor.
“Lift your arms.”
I do as he says, my entire body alight with anticipation of his touch. He grips my tunic at my hips and pulls it over my head, letting it follow my palla. He takes a step back, letting his eyes slowly roam down my bare body. Not even my late husband took such time for me, almost reverence in his gaze.
“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” his voice is low, a slight rasp to it. I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks. Then he reaches behind him and yanks his tunic over his body in one swift motion, his underwear quickly following.
Gods he’s gorgeous. Strong and toned from his many years of battle, his body has many scars and marks littering it, some new from this most recent battle and others faded to white lines. A single curl falls across his forehead, his eyes soft but full of desire. He pulls me to him, the warmth from his body spreading over mine, an excited tingling firing throughout me as he kisses me. His hand roams down, stopping to squeeze and touch my breast. I gasp when he pinches my nipple, the sensation zapping straight between my thighs.
He gently guides me to the mat, helping me to lay on my back before he lays his body over mine, my legs falling open to give him more space. He kisses me, his lips trailing down my neck to suck on a spot that has me gasping again. He pulls back, shoulder muscles flexing, his eyes on my face as he presses into me.
“Oh!” Is all I can manage. He’s larger than my husband was, but he’s taking care, slowly moving his hips to allow me to adjust.��
Once his hips are flush against mine, he studies my face. “Are you alright?”
I nod. “Yes, just…you feel so good, Marcus.”
He smiles, a soft smile, tucking some hair behind my ear again. He moves, pressing deep into me before hitching my leg over his hip. Our grunts and moans fill the tent, Marcus’s hand sliding up to hold mind, our fingers linking together. The warmth in my body builds fast and then explodes, his name rolling off my tongue in praise. Another press of his hips and he grunts, eyes closed in bliss. He drops his head to my chest for several moments, practically purring when I run my fingers through his hair, something I had been dying to do since the moment I first saw him. He rolls off me with a hiss, pulling the blanket over us. His hand settles on my stomach and I turn my head to watch him in the darkness.
“No regrets?” He asks me, worry in his voice.
I cup his cheek. “Just that it took us this long to get here.”
As we continue to travel, Marcus and I spend as much time as is possible together. Sometimes that’s in the form of him waking me as he presses into me, a hand clamped over my mouth so I don’t wake the camp. Other times it’s simply a meal, chatting about anything and everything. He has so many amazing stories, some sad and others happy or fantastical. He also rides by me, sometimes racing ahead of his troops, our adrenaline taking us behind the closest tree as I lift my tunic for him.
He has also taken to teaching me archery, or expanding on my limited knowledge. My father had snuck me a bow and arrows when I was little and I practiced in secret where I could. My deceased husband had even built a little private range for me and hired a tutor. But once he passed, those things went away and I had to hide my skill.
I’ll admit some of my favorite times are when he comes back from battle, covered in blood and dirt, fueled by fighting. The first time he did this, he came into the tent where I had prepared a meal. I turned, only managing to get his name out as he stomped across the tent, eyes dark and full of fire. He kissed me hard, gripping my hips roughly and spun me around, bending me over the table as he pulled himself free, pounding into me hard enough that everything on the table clattered to the floor. He wound his fingers in my hair and yanked me up, holding me to his chest as he fucked me, whispering dark and dirty things in my ear, grunting as I clenched around him, his own release just behind mine. He had apologized profusely once he saw how sore I was, a few bruises left behind. But I begged him to do it again, and he definitely has delivered.
But today is different. He’s on his horse next to me, quiet. Pensive. I haven’t been able to get more than a few words from him the entire ride. It’s not until we’ve made camp and were sitting at his table eating that he speaks. He sets down his fork and clears his throat.
“I have something to discuss with you.”
I set my fork down as well, dabbing my mouth with a napkin before turning all of my attention to him. He looks…nervous. “What is it?”
He takes a deep breath. “We are nearing the end of our campaign.”
My eyebrows raise. “Oh? That’s good news, right?”
He nods. “Yes. But it’s more than that. We all get to go home. Some will return, others may not. But home for me, is the capital. Rome.”
“You live in the capital? That makes sense. I hadn’t really thought about it.”
He places his upturned hand on the table, bending his fingers to ask for mine. I acquiesce, his skin always feeling warm and comforting. His eyes bore into mine and I feel like he’s reading me again.
“I want to give you another chance to leave.”
I can feel the color drain from my face. “You…you want me to leave?”
“No! No, I do not. But the capital is not…it is a great city to be sure, but it is also very dangerous. I want to give you a chance to go and live a life away from it.”
I shake my head. “Absolutely not. My place is by your side. If…if you’ll have me.” My throat feels tight as I choke back tears.
With his free hand, Marcus leans closer and cups my face. “I would love nothing more than to have you by my side. Is that what you truly want? You do not owe me anything.”
“It is. I…I love you, Marcus.”
His eyes start to water, but then he swallows hard to stop them. “You do?”
I nod furiously. “I have for some time, I think.”
With the hand on my cheek, he pulls me to him, kissing me softly. “I love you too.”
We make out for a few minutes before he pulls back, taking my hand again. “As much as I want to have you, we have something else to discuss.”
“Oh?”
“Since you have decided to stay with me, I…just know this is not the way I would have done it, but your safety is everything to me, and the capital is dangerous. The Emperors-”
“Marcus?”
He takes another deep breath. “I think we should be married before we reach Rome.”
Marriage. That is what’s causing him to not quite look me in the eye? Like he’s afraid I’ll say no? Or afraid I’ll say yes?
“Why is it important we do it before Rome?”
He leans in to my ear, pretending like he’s going to kiss me there, but instead whispers. “The Emperors can be…dangerous. They like to play games and they like to take spoils of war. If you are not married, they may command you to join them.”
“Oh.”
He pulls back, keeping his face only inches from mine, his eyes large and wide. “If this were not so, I would court you, ask you to marry me in a romantic way. But our time is running out and I need to keep you safe. So..what is your answer?”
I look into his eyes, a small smile on my lips. “Marcus, I would’ve married you the day you rescued me. But now? After getting to know you, falling in love with you? I would marry you behind the latrine.”
He chuckles, his eyes sparkling. “So that’s a yes?”
“Yes!”
We had a simple wedding ceremony, his trusted captain marrying us. Marcus slides a hastily made iron ring onto my finger and I do the same for him.
“It’s not much, but I promise to get you something nice when we reach Rome.”
I don’t care about the ring personally, but I can see it means a lot to him. Also, he is the General of Rome, so I’m sure he has to have a certain appearance. The closer we get to the city, the more anxious his eyes get, and the closer by his side he keeps me. We stop in the Port of Ostia, and Marcus escorts me to a room at a nearby inn. It’s been what feels like ages since I slept in an actual bed and not a roll. This one isn’t the best but it’s better than the ground for sure. The next day while we’re eating breakfast, a soft knock raps on the door. I look at Marcus who has a small smile on his face as he gets up to answer it. A person enters in a hooded cloak, hesitating just inside the room while Marcus closes the door. As soon as he does, the hood comes back and reveals an absolutely stunning woman, her golden hair twisted half up on her head in gorgeous braids, her golden tunic forming to her body.
“General Acacius. I am happy to see you alive.”
“Likewise, Princess Lucilla.” He takes her hand and kisses the back of it and I’m not a tiny bit jealous about it. Nope. Not me. Marcus crosses the room and offers me his hand and I take it, standing up from my chair.
“Princess Lucilla, may I introduce Cornelia, my wife.”
Lucilla glances at Marcus for a moment before looking at me, her eyes scanning down my body and back up. “Aren’t you a pretty thing?”
Pretty thing? What am I, 14? Marcus squeezes my hand ever so slightly, my signal to be nice. “Thank you, Princess, but I’m sure that title belongs to you.” To my utter surprise, she laughs, her head falling back with it.
“You didn’t tell me she was witty? You’ll fit right in at court. Just..be careful, with your carefully worded insults, yes?”
I nod. “Understood.”
She pulls a lavender spring from somewhere and holds it beneath her nose, taking a small sniff as she studies me. “I think my seamstress can have her new tunic sewn fast enough. It may not be perfect but it will be fine for the ceremony.”
I turn to look at Marcus. “What celebration? What’s going on?”
Marcus sighs. “When I return to the city after a campaign, the Emperors like to make a..spectacle. I wish they wouldn’t, but they request I ride through the city on a chariot, in my finest armor, and receive my laurels.”
Lucilla turns to him. “General Acacius here sent for me to help you prepare.”
I turn to Lucilla now. “Help me? For what? And why would he ask you?”
She looks at Marcus again. “Have you never spoken of me?”
Marcus shrugs. “Never saw the need to.”
Lucilla turns back to me. “Your husband and I have known each other for a long time. I trust him fully and he me.” She glances at Marcus who nods. She leans in a little closer to me, speaking quietly. “We are both for a free Rome.”
“Is Rome not already free?”
She chuckles, but not in a mean way. “My dear, you have a lot to learn. Which is why he asked me here. To dress you for this ceremony, yes, but to tell you more about what to do or say, or what not to do or say in the capital. Especially as a woman. It is a beautiful city, but it is dangerous.”
I look at Marcus who takes my hands, giving them a little squeeze. “I’m sorry I did not tell you. I was afraid someone would hear me. The world is full of spies. The Princess isn’t technically allowed outside of the city.”
I look at Lucilla, who is smirking slightly. “Oh? So you’re a rebel?”
She chuckles. “In the eyes of the Emperors, I was born one. As my father was Marcus Aurelius.”
Now that name I had heard of and my eyes go wide. “Well I can see why they’d feel…threatened.”
She nods and then claps her hands together. “Now, shall we begin?”
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The Last Oath
- Summary: His last breath carried your name.
- Pairing: targ!reader/Criston Cole
- Note: The reader is Rhaenyra's younger sister.
- Rating: Explicit 18+ (because of the death scenes)
- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround
Ser Criston Cole knew Rook's Rest would be a trap. The King’s whispers had drifted through the Red Keep's dark corridors, words carried by shadows that spoke of luring Rhaenys into a brutal ambush. He’d anticipated her fierce defiance and braced himself for the collision of dragons. But as his gaze lifted to the clear morning sky, his heart froze, and a searing dread settled within him. It was not the scarlet scales of Meleys that darkened the horizon but the pale, ghostly hide of Grey Ghost, and upon his back…you.
A tremor shot through him, grounding him in horror and disbelief. What are you doing here, Y/N? He couldn’t fathom why you were here instead of Rhaenys. Perhaps Rhaenyra had convinced you to fly in her stead, or perhaps you, in your quiet determination, had taken this burden upon yourself, unaware of the danger lying in wait. It was so like you—to act with soft, unassuming bravery, never truly aware of how brightly you shone.
Beside him, Gwayne Hightower watched with grim satisfaction, unaware of the torrent ripping through Criston’s heart. Criston swallowed, feeling an unbearable weight settle in his chest as he turned to Gwayne. “We must signal them to call off the ambush,” he urged, his voice tight with barely concealed panic.
Gwayne arched a brow, his face impassive. “And why should we, Ser Criston? Isn’t this what we’ve waited for?”
“You don’t understand,” Criston replied, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. He couldn’t explain the depth of it, the years he had spent in silence, cherishing each fleeting glance, every gentle word you’d spared him. In the wake of his ruinous affair with Rhaenyra, it was you who had given him solace, unknowingly filling the void left by the bitter memory of his downfall. He had loved you quietly, resolutely, even knowing the folly of it. Now, as he watched you flying into the jaws of death, he felt his world slipping through his fingers.
But Gwayne’s face remained cold. “It’s war, Ser Criston. Sentiment has no place here.”
In that moment, Criston realized that any appeal he made would be in vain. With a final, burning glance toward Gwayne, he rushed toward the battlements, his eyes fixed on the heavens where Grey Ghost circled in the distance, his pale wings shimmering in the sunlight. He could just make out your form, your silver hair streaming behind you like a banner as you soared over the battlefield, so innocent of the shadows gathering around you.
“Aemond! Aegon! Stop!” Criston shouted, his voice drowned out by the echoing war cries and the toll of metal on metal. He watched in mounting terror as Aegon’s Sunfyre and Aemond’s Vhagar closed in, a deadly gleam in their eyes.
Above, you seemed to notice the trap too late. Your head turned, a flicker of realization crossing your face as Aegon’s triumphant shout echoed across the air.
“Y/N!” Criston’s voice was raw, a broken plea that dissolved into the roar of the dragons. He saw Grey Ghost’s great form twist and turn as you tried to evade them, your movements desperate and wild. Yet, against the might of Sunfyre and Vhagar, it was a hopeless struggle.
In that instant, as Grey Ghost rose to meet the onslaught, Criston remembered every stolen glance, every moment he had held his feelings tight, bound and buried in the depth of his heart. He had always kept his love in silence, hoping that his loyalty, his presence, would be enough. But now he was powerless to protect you, to save you from the fate bearing down upon you.
Sunfyre struck first, a flash of golden fire and claws, tearing into Grey Ghost’s wing. Criston’s heart clenched as he saw you struggling to regain control, your face a mask of shock and fear as you clung to the saddle. He willed you to turn back, to flee, but Grey Ghost was already locked in battle, his wounded wing struggling to keep you both aloft.
Aemond’s Vhagar descended next, a merciless shadow as her jaws snapped around Grey Ghost’s throat, crushing scales and sinew. Criston’s breath hitched as he watched you, a small, fragile figure against the fury of two dragons. The once graceful, pale beast beneath you writhed in agony, the ghostly sheen of his scales marred by blood and fire.
“Please, no…” Criston whispered, his voice thick with despair.
Beside him, Gwayne scoffed. “Seems the Targaryen bravery is finally meeting its match.”
Criston didn’t respond. His eyes were fixed on the sky, on you, as the horror unfolded. He wanted to tear Gwayne away, to scream, to beg the heavens for mercy. But all he could do was watch as Grey Ghost’s wings faltered, his body a shattered specter falling from grace.
Time slowed as you and Grey Ghost plummeted, a spiral of silver and gray tumbling toward the earth. In that agonizing moment, Criston caught a glimpse of your face, eyes wide with terror and acceptance, your gaze meeting his across the chasm between life and death.
He stretched a hand out, as if somehow his touch could bridge the impossible distance. “Y/N!” he called again, the name a broken prayer.
The ground rushed up to meet you, and Criston felt his soul shatter as Grey Ghost and your body crashed into the earth below. Dust and debris billowed around the impact, the final mark of a life too pure, too gentle for the brutality of this war.
Criston remained there, frozen in his anguish, the echoes of the crash ringing in his ears. Gwayne said something beside him, some empty remark that he couldn’t bear to hear. All he knew was that he had loved you, loved you so deeply and for so long, and now you were gone, a memory scattered like ash across the battlefield.
And there he stood, with only his silence left, his heart as broken as the earth below.
Criston’s legs felt leaden as he stumbled toward the shattered remains of Grey Ghost and your lifeless body sprawled in the wreckage. The earth was scorched and smoldering, fragments of dragon scale glinting dully among the splinters of broken bone and torn flesh. He barely felt the jagged stones beneath his knees as he knelt beside you, his trembling hand reaching out to touch the blood-stained fabric of your riding cloak.
Your face, pale as the moon, was twisted in the last throes of pain, but even in death, there was a serene beauty that clung to you, haunting and fragile. Criston’s hand brushed over your cold cheek, his thumb lingering over the bruises and blood that marred your skin. His throat tightened painfully, choking the words he could never say aloud.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, voice breaking as he leaned over you. He couldn’t stop the tears that slipped down his face, splashing onto the remnants of your cloak. “I should have done more.” His fingers traced the outline of your hand, limp and lifeless, and he was filled with an overwhelming despair that hollowed him from the inside.
Behind him, Gwayne Hightower stood in uncharacteristic silence, his face a cold mask as he watched Criston grieve. The reality of war had never felt as brutal as it did now, with your delicate form lying broken and still, and Criston’s silent suffering a testament to what he’d tried to hide for so long.
Criston barely heard the heavy footfalls approaching, but he didn’t need to look up to know it was Aemond. The young prince’s steps were purposeful, lacking any hint of remorse as he regarded the scene with a detached gaze, arms crossed over his chest.
“Ser Criston,” Aemond’s voice cut through the somber air, as cold and unfeeling as iron. “We can’t linger here. We must leave.”
Criston’s jaw clenched as he rose slowly to his feet, keeping his body between you and Aemond, as if he could shield you even now. “We can’t leave her here,” he said, his voice raw. “Not like this. She deserves better than to lie in the dirt, broken and forgotten.”
Aemond raised an eyebrow, his expression one of impatience rather than compassion. “Better? She chose her fate when she took to the skies. She knew what awaited her. This is war, Ser Criston, not some song of knights and maids.”
Criston’s fists clenched at his sides, his heart pounding with a mixture of fury and grief. “She was your kin, Aemond. Your own blood. Are you so blind to what she meant? To what we’ve done?” He gestured to the ruin around them, to your broken body and the crumpled form of Grey Ghost beside you. “This…this was a slaughter, not a battle. She was innocent.”
Aemond’s gaze hardened, his eye glinting with a cold, unyielding fire. “She was Rhaenyra’s sister,” he replied, voice laced with bitterness. “She chose her loyalties, and she paid the price. I won’t weep for someone who defied us.”
Criston took a step forward, his expression taut with barely suppressed rage. “She didn’t defy you. She fought because she believed it was right, because she had courage. More than you or I could ever claim.” He drew a shuddering breath, fighting to keep his composure. “She deserves a proper farewell, not to be left as carrion for the crows.”
Aemond scoffed, turning his gaze to the horizon as if he were bored by Criston’s grief. “A proper farewell? You think I’ll bring her to King’s Landing, parade her body before our enemies, make a martyr of her?” He sneered. “No. Her death will be a lesson. Let them remember what defiance brings.”
Criston’s hand twitched toward the hilt of his sword, his entire body trembling with the urge to strike the coldness from Aemond’s face. “If you had any decency left, you would at least allow her dignity in death. She was not your enemy, Aemond.”
Aemond’s face softened slightly, just enough to reveal the faintest hint of emotion, though it was quickly swallowed by his usual icy mask. He held Criston’s gaze, a hint of reluctance in his eye. “Fine,” he muttered. “If you are so determined to honor her, we’ll do it here.”
Without another word, he turned toward Vhagar, who loomed like a dark mountain behind him. Criston’s stomach twisted as he realized what Aemond intended. He opened his mouth to protest, but his voice faltered as he looked down at you, knowing he had no other choice.
Aemond raised his hand, commanding Vhagar with a wordless gesture. The ancient dragon’s head lowered, her molten eyes fixed upon you and Grey Ghost’s remains. Criston knelt back down beside you, his hand resting gently over yours as he bowed his head, offering a final, silent farewell.
He felt the heat of Vhagar’s breath, the fire building within her throat as her maw opened, casting a golden glow over your still face. He forced himself to stay there, to remain beside you even as the wave of fire swept forward. His heart shattered with every beat as he felt the flames draw near, consuming everything, leaving only ash and memories behind.
The fire raged, filling the air with a blinding light and unbearable heat. Criston could hear Gwayne’s quiet, almost reverent murmur of respect behind him, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away. All he saw was the fire, and in it, the last remnants of the only light he’d ever loved.
As the flames died down, Aemond’s voice rang out, cold and final. “Let this be a warning to all who would defy the true king.”
Criston rose slowly, the smoldering remnants of his heart heavy within him. He cast one last glance at the ashes scattered before him, his love and his pain mingling in the smoke that drifted toward the heavens.
The day was bleak, the sky overcast with clouds that drifted like shrouds over the land as Ser Criston Cole led the remnants of his weary host from the Gods Eye to the Blackwater Rush. The echoes of battle and bloodshed haunted their march, yet it was the silence that weighed the heaviest upon him now. His men, faces hollowed and spirits worn, followed him with the quiet resignation of soldiers who knew they were walking to their deaths. Criston’s once-bright armor was dulled, his cloak muddied and torn, yet he held his head high, clinging to the last vestiges of his pride.
As they reached a ridge, Criston’s heart sank. Before them, an army stretched across the hillside, thousands strong, clad in black and steely resolve. At their head were Ser Garibald Grey, Ser Pate of Longleaf, and Roderick Dustin, Lord of Barrowton, each man exuding a grim determination. The banners of Rhaenyra’s cause fluttered in the wind, a stark reminder of the vengeance the Blacks sought.
Criston halted his men with a raised hand, studying the enemy lines as he steeled himself. His eyes traced the ranks, noting the archers positioned along the flanks, their arrows ready, like shadows waiting to strike. He took a slow, steadying breath and spurred his horse forward a few paces, raising his voice to be heard across the field.
“Ser Garibald! Ser Pate! Lord Dustin!” he called, his voice carrying with the weight of authority, though his spirit was fractured. “I am Criston Cole, Hand of the King. My men have no quarrel with you, only I bear that burden. If you’ll spare their lives, I’ll yield to you now, without bloodshed.”
There was a moment of silence, a pause that hung thick in the air, broken only by the soft murmur of the men on both sides. Criston watched as Ser Garibald and Lord Dustin exchanged a glance, their faces hard as stone. Ser Pate of Longleaf, however, answered, his voice as cold and unyielding as iron.
“Spare them? As you spared so many in King’s Landing and beyond, Criston? As you spared the innocent lives burned in Rhaenyra’s wrath?” Ser Pate’s lips curled in a sneer. “No, your men knew the cost of their loyalty, as did you.”
Criston’s jaw tightened, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “If it’s vengeance you seek, then take it from me alone,” he urged. “I’ll face you here and now, all three of you, if you’ll grant my men their lives. Is there no honor left in Westeros?”
Lord Dustin scoffed, shaking his head as he turned to Ser Pate. “Honor? Coming from the man they call the Kingmaker? You lost the right to speak of honor the moment you betrayed the true queen and the blood you swore to protect.”
Criston’s face tightened, pain flickering in his eyes. His betrayal of Rhaenyra haunted him still, but it was the memory of another, far dearer, that cut the deepest. Her face—your face—flashed before him, as vivid as the day you had fallen from the sky. He clutched the memory like a lifeline, a reminder of everything he had loved and lost in silence.
Ser Pate glanced toward Robb Rivers, who stood amongst his archers, poised and ready. “Let’s end this folly, Criston. There will be no duel, no noble death on your terms.”
Criston’s heart sank as he saw Robb Rivers nod, the archers raising their bows, their arrows trained on him with deadly precision. He felt the finality of it, the cold acceptance settling within him. He had seen this end coming, yet now, faced with it, all he could think of was you—your gentle laughter, your shy smile, the quiet strength you had carried within you until the end. He had held your memory close, a solitary warmth in his heart amid the shadows, and now, it was all he had left.
“Do you have any final words, Ser Criston?” Lord Dustin’s voice cut through the silence, edged with both disdain and curiosity.
Criston’s eyes drifted over the horizon, his gaze softening as he whispered, as if speaking only to himself, “Y/N…” The name slipped from his lips, carrying with it every unspoken vow, every memory that had sustained him through the years. He had whispered it so often in the silence of his mind, yet now, with his final breath, it was a declaration, a confession he could no longer hide.
A murmur of confusion rippled through the men before him, but Criston heard none of it. His mind was far away, with you, lost in the warmth of a memory he had clung to for so long. He closed his eyes, bracing himself for the inevitable.
Robb Rivers released his grip, and the arrows flew, cutting through the air in a deadly arc. Criston felt the sharp, searing pain as they struck his chest, the force of each one driving him to his knees. His vision blurred, his heartbeat slowing, each beat fainter than the last.
He looked down, watching his blood seep into the earth, staining it as red as the fire that had consumed you. He found solace in the knowledge that soon, he would be free of the pain, of the memories that haunted him. Soon, he would be with you, and he could finally tell you all the words he’d held back, all the love he had kept hidden away.
As his body slumped forward, his last breath slipped away, and the battlefield fell silent. Later, the story would spread through the ranks of both Black and Green soldiers alike—that Criston Cole, the Kingmaker, had fallen not with cries of defiance or curses upon his enemies but with a whisper, a single name that carried more weight than a thousand battles.
And that name was yours.
#house of the dragon#hotd#hotd x reader#hotd x you#hotd x y/n#asoiaf#a song of ice and fire#fire and blood#game of thrones#hotd criston#ser criston cole#criston cole#criston x reader#criston x you#crsiton x y/n#house targaryen#grey ghost
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Run Boy, Run
Content: Yandere! Chigiri Hyoma x GN!Reader, predator/prey vibes, mentions of blood
Your heart pounded in your chest, the trees passing by you, twigs and branches snagging and scratching at your skin, but you could not stop. No, you cannot stop. If you did, he would catch you.
Your breaths were short and you were certain your legs would crumble under you if you were to slow down for even a millisecond. Adrenaline can only take you so far, that you knew, but gosh, you really hoped it would get you out of here. The trees looked all the same, but you refused to let that get to you. If you did, if you looked back even once to see if you've made progress, the panther would sink his claws into you.
When?
When will it end?
Just as that thought crossed your mind, your body crashed into the ground, dirt and pebbles scraping at your face as you felt the wind leave your lungs.
"Got you~"
You felt his body slam yours into the ground, mounting your back before he yanked you up by the back of your collar. With one hand gripping your chin, and the other caging you on one side, he forced your face upwards to face him. Chigiri's pink eyes were fierce, like a predator eyeing its catch.
"You really thought you could run, huh?" His grip on your chin grew tighter. "That's real brave, I gotta admit. But you really thought you could outrun me?"
He released his hands and your face slammed back into the ground. In a moment however, you found yourself being dragged by the back of your shirt by a fuming Chigiri.
"I leave the door open for just a second and you book it. Unbelievable. To betray me like that!" You felt your head hit the ground again when you realised he had let go of your shirt. You turned to face him. His pretty face had been scrunched up in anger, his lip trembling as he appeared to try and compose himself.
He sucked in a breath and crouched down, and tilted your face towards him with his hand. "I thought you loved me..." his voice was barely a whisper.
"You kidnapped me!" you hissed as you whacked his hand away from you. Your face twisted into a frown as your eyes burned with tears welling up.
You were so close. So, so close, damn it!
Chigiri's lips trembled, and he clenched his fists. "It was to keep you away from him," he said through gritted teeth.
Oh that's right... if it wasn't for Chigiri overhearing Kunigami's confession, you wouldn't have been snatched up by him on your way back home. You had rejected Kunigami when he confessed, which Chigiri definitely heard, but for some reason or another, he decided it was too risky to let you walk around while Kunigami still had the chance to capture your heart. And so, like an apex predator would, Chigiri striked first and sunk his teeth into you. All to claim you as his before the dark horse could.
You scoffed through several sniffles, wiping away your tears. You could run off again. But with Chigiri barely a foot away from you, and with how numb your legs felt, you had no doubt he would capture you again in no time. Gosh, it was truly hopeless wasn't it? Stuck in the middle of nowhere with only Chigiri as company.
"Whatever. I learned my lesson. I won't run anymore..." you spat out, looking at the ground. Your knees were skinned raw, with pieces of twigs and leaves stuck to the skin. Your palms were stinging, still sore from the impact and your head still hurt. It was the price you had to pay for your chance at freedom, and it was all in vain.
"Good. Now, take my hand and let's go home yeah?" Chigiri asked. You weren't looking at his face, but you could tell he was smiling. A shame really... if this was six months ago, you would have loved to stare at his smile forever. Not now though, not when your imprisonment was the reason for his relief and happiness.
"Fine." You slapped your hand against his outstretched palm and he immediately pulled you up to your feet. His grip was tight as the two of you walked home.
Why oh why did you think you could outrun a panther?
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Uhhh maybe something something with werewolf!mreader and count orlok?🥰
Count Byron Orlok x Werewolf male reader
Ficlet
I spent way too long reading about old werewolf mythos to write this. Reader’s kind of a mix of the different myths I found, and my own cooking. I took mild inspo from the Neuri people, and the myth of Lycaon, and what I could find about Mount Lykaion.
Lil bit of Thomas x reader, but its not really important.
Nosferatu 2024 spoilers ig?
For many years you have wandered and existed, whether you could claim to be alive or not was something you had dismissed many years ago. You remembered being born to a nomadic people who wandered from one place to another, passing their tales verbally and through song, never staying in one place for long. You remember the older men leaving for days at a time, only to return to your people, battered, bruised and exhausted, but the usual hunger in their eyes sated.
Memories of your first transformation were blurry at best, only weak memories of pain, blood, hunger, hopelessness. There wasn’t much need to remember your younger years, just that your father had been a beast amongst beasts, and so had you. When you came too after the first shift, you awoke naked and bloody, the camp of the people that were yours, destroyed.
Mixtures of flesh, fur and gore lay scattered, the tents and makeshift homes torn apart, from what looked like a wild animal trying to break in to devour whoever was inside. The taste of blood in your mouth and meat stuck between your teeth, was all you needed to know. You were that beast, and you had devoured them all. Man, woman, child and wolf, all torn apart by your hunger.
You remember stumbling away from what remained of your family, friends and near, naked as the day you were born. The cold feeling of falling into a stream, of all the blood washing off your body, washing away your sins. Memories of stumbling along, uncaring of your naked nature, so full of regret and horror of yourself and what you were.
Not much could be remembered from that time, only flashes of pain as you transformed once more, and devoured, be it human or animal. Everything only became clear in a mountain, where a cult worshipping wolves and those who could transform had found you. You learned that they were cursed by a god to be what they were, but you? You were born this way, gifted.
Their chants and magic taught you control of your inner beast. Where before there had been two beings inside you, wolf and man, there now was one. In the end you wandered from this group, leaving them to their whims of cannibalism and human sacrifice.
With control of your inner hunger, of your lack of humanity and beastly desires, you wandered. You slept when you needed to, and ate when you were hungry. You could even take part in humanity at times, joining celebrations, or sleeping in a real bed every now and then. Where raw flesh and blood tasted divine, their dishes and spices were enough to keep you sated for longer.
You never kept track of your age, but you watched as the old gods fell, and was replaced by another. A pantheon of gods, with so many duties and whims, replaced by one who became three, yet were still one. You watched as their influence grew, as their one god became the one most worshipped.
You watched as many were killed in cold blood for not worshipping their one god, or were tortured for going against the word of their holy book. It was during this holy period that you discovered your weakness to silver as well, but you being naturally born this way, let you survive it, unlike those cursed to be like you.
Your long wandering took you to somewhere in the Romanian mountains, where superstition and beliefs were as strong as ever, where a count ruled over the land, a count who yearned for immortality. Maybe it was the way you dressed when he saw you for the first time that caught his interest. He wore a cape of sheepskin, where yours was that of a wolf, the head thrown over your own almost like a mask or a hood.
Byron Orlok was his name. And he was handsome, as handsome as the men of this era could be, even if his eyes were dark and hungered for something beyond mortality, even as he buried himself in the occult to seek it. The tales of your own long life, what little you told him, only fueled him. If you could live from before the very creation of Christianity, then he too could become immortal. Unageing.
Your wolf form lingered around his home, a large building far beyond anything you could have ever seen in your youth. The sounds of his transformation, the reek of sulfur and acid, like the bile of a stomach, was so powerful that you felt that even the wandering natives would smell it. and yet as he screamed and wailed, you lay still, your massive wolf head resting on top of your paws. It was not your duty to save him or stop him, his demons and gods were not connected to you.
In his death, Byron Orlok did not cease moving. His corpse and body still moved and spoke during the night, before the sun rose and the first rooster’s crow. and you, you stayed. Over your many years of life you had met many beasts and monsters like yourself, or warlocks and alchemists who were bound to the otherworld, even priests and priestesses who could communicate with their gods of choice. But none intrigued you like Byron.
As something beyond human, the idea that only a man and a woman could bond was beyond you. It was a belief that had never existed in you, as the people you had been around in your youth never carried it, but for Byron it was new and strange. Even as his body changed and altered, looking more like a corpse than a man, his passion persisted.
The locals built temples or stands to keep him away, filling them with crosses and hunting others like him, Nosferatu. You, they feared, less than Byron, but feared, nonetheless. Where Byron devoured human flesh and blood to keep moving, you had persisted on nothing but will for many years, and only devoured when you needed too.
Byron was not the most physically affectionate, you had a feeling he simply couldn’t be. But his possessive nature and yearning for you, spoke of his innermost feelings. His kisses would have made any normal human vomit from the taste of blood, gore, and corpse, but you were no human. Anyone else would have died from being fed on by him, but you lived. Your heart beat and would beat on, for how long you did not know.
Your inhuman blood and flesh, which regenerated like the leaves of a tree, kept Byron fed when the human flesh could not. It wasn’t what he was meant to eat, that much was clear, as you were not human and that was what he needed, but it changed him. He still was death itself, but your wolflike insides made him at least a little more pleasant to look at.
What you two were, was not a married couple, but he was yours and you were his, though he yours more than you his. Being older, stronger, able to go where and when you pleased, made you the more dangerous of you two. The most powerful, but you had no need to use this against him.
Until he bonded with that human, one you would learn was named Ellen who begged for company from anything, anyone. You were tempted to tear Byrons head off his body when you learned of this, having only been gone for two years which was nothing in your shared centuries, and here he went, finding another.
After this betrayal, you left once more, after tearing apart the wolves you had given him as servants. He would not thrive off your gifts and flesh if he could not respect you. It was not that he had bonded with a human girl, but more the dismissal of you and disregard of what you wanted. What if you had wanted a little human plaything as well?
When you returned once more, years later, you observed a man on his way towards Byron Orloks home, which looked as decrepit as you were used too. He was almost adorable, in his modern clothing and satchel bag. So intriguing was he, that you followed him from the shadows in your wolf form, observed as he rested with the locals, saw their execution of a Nosferatu, and how the locals left him behind.
Byron must have felt your presence, as the carriage that picked the human man up had the motif of a wolf on the side. You could feel his magic reach for you, but yours was stronger, and still being mad at him, you turned it away.
Your lover, partner, other being, was enraged, you could tell, when he smelled your interest in this man, Thomas Hutter, but he could not say anything, as he was drawn to this Thomas Hutters wife. Thomas Hutter was tormented and haunted as he slept and was awake in the old castle, he almost passed out when he saw you in your wolf form for the first time.
Maybe it was more that you wanted to make Byron feel what you felt, when he bonded to that girl, and it didn’t hurt that Thomas Hutter was as adorable as a rabbit, with his frightened eyes and heady scent. The lack of sleep drove him mad enough to sleep curled up against your furry side, and your hairy chest when you transformed back into a man.
It was enough to make Byron gnash his teeth and growl, his magic attempting to squeeze the very life out of Thomas only to be blocked by your own. There was no reason for you to stop his plans, you were much too old to involve yourself in such things, but you did make sure Thomas survived long enough to be found by the nun and for him to return to Wisborg.
Your massive paws dragged groves in the first as you followed the scent of Thomas, as Byron you could sense was across the sea where you could not follow without spending unnecessary magic.
Your maw salivated at the sight of Ellen, not from the same desire that Thomas or Byron carried for her which was carnal in the way animals in spring desired, but from a long-forgotten hunger for human flesh. To rip and tear, to destroy and break. You wanted to kill her, for taking your Orlok’s attention, the same hate Byron felt for Thomas, even if your attention was nothing more than a mild interest.
Time would tell, as the first night fell and the rats invaded the city. When Byron would end up tricked by these mortals, you would step in and scold him. He was so young compared to you, centuries compared to your millennia. Punish him, you must, make him weep and beg for your forgiveness for betraying you so. But for now, you would gobble up the corpses of the citizens as they piled up, to satisfy your growing hunger for Ellen and her putrid flesh.
#male reader#werewolf reader#nosferatu 2024#nosferatu#count orlok#byron orlok#thomas hutter#ellen hutter#nosferatu x male reader#nosferatu x reader#nosferatu imagine#nosferatu headcanon#count orlok x male reader#count orlok x reader#byron orlok x male reader#byron orlok x reader#count orlok imagine#count orlok headcanon#byron orlok imagine#byron orlok headcanon#thomas hutter x male reader#thomas hutter x reader#thomas hutter imagine#thomas hutter headcanon#nosferatu movie#lotsa lore#cuz i love worldbuilding and im bored
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