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balkanradfem · 1 month

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So I've found Alyssa Grenfell on youtube. She shares her experience of leaving mormonism, and the inner workings of the religion. I had very little ideas about what mormonism is, only that it's a high-control religion, very difficult to leave, and has people knocking on doors trying to get converts. I've been interested to find out more, and I ended up watching almost all of her content, and some of the information I've got from it opened my eyes on other feminist topics, and I believe is relevant to the current discourse!

So if you, like me, don't know how mormonism works, it started when a guy decided that he too could be a part of the bible; he wrote a bible part two: mormon, and proclaimed himself a prophet. Then he started a religion based on his writings, decided it was more important than the bible itself because he 'translated it from gold tablets god gave him', and started gaining followers by convincing people he's the prophet. Once he had managed to get a following, he soon started to sexually exploit the wives and daughters of these followers, to the point where he had 20-40 wives and had married 14yo children. Families allowed it to happen because he would promise them to be royalty in the afterlife. He eventually got into a lot of trouble for stealing and raping children so he was killed by an angry mob, but the religion continued.

The religion is same as christianity except more rules (no coffee, no alcohol, no smoking), eternal worship of the predator who wrote it, followers are pressured to follow the rules exactly, and, the vital part, the followers have to give 10% of their income to the church. They developed a culture where once every young mormon kid comes of age, they have to go on a 'mission', which means they're removed from their home, and have to spend 2 years (1,5 for women) living in a foreign area, knocking on doors, sharing the gospel, trying to convert people. The conversion rate is extremely low, but at that point kids have invested so much time, effort, energy and passion for the religion, they become devoted to it and start to feel alienated in the world that rejects their religion. And even with the low conversion rate, every new convert means another continuous source of income for the church. So it's very profitable to send out young adults to make these sales. The kids are told that if they don't complete their missions, they will not be able to marry, and marriage is presented as their only life purpose.

So how rich is the church at this point? 230 billion dollars. I've been shocked to hear this because I had no idea. Alyssa explained that the mormon church is as rich as Pepsi, they have more money than Disney and McDonalds. So you might be wondering, like I did, well what are they doing with all that money? I've been left to wonder this for a while, until I watched the video called 'Why are so many influencers mormon?', which explained it. I didn't even realize a lot of influencers were mormon. But, this video showed me something both disturbing, and eye opening.

Before I go into that, I have to point out how patriarchal and misogynistic this religion is. Women are not given any options except marriage, and it's presented as the only righteous way to live. They're groomed for marriage from a very young age, encouraged to start writing letters to their future husbands at the age of 9. They're taught cooking, sewing and childcare, and to coddle any males in the family. It's taken for granted that m*n won't respect women, to the point where male children are allowed to harass grown women and their families will not intervene or consider it a problem. Chastity and purity are promoted to the level where members of the religion are expected to wear special underwear at all times, which hides their entire torso, shoulders, and legs down to their knees, and their clothing is expected to cover this up completely. They're rejected by the religion if they dare to have sex before marriage, or drink alcohol or coffee, or in some cases, tea. The church has a history of allowing and promoting polygamy, in the sense that a male was allowed to have as many wives as he wanted; they've since stopped this, but refused to break up the existing marriages. They're also promoting anti gay and racist propaganda, which Alyssa observed in school where she'd been teaching; a gay kid almost ended his life due to extreme homophobia.

I know all of this is somewhat common in all areas of society, all religions, and all cultures, but in mormonism it seems to be written into the core of it.

So now, why are so many influencers mormon? I didn't even know they were. The influencers themselves are not promoting the fact that they're mormon, nor does it come up in viral discussions. Ballerina farm is mormon. Tradwives are mormon. Whataboutaub, Rachel Parcel, brooklynandbailey, tanner_mann, thebucketlistfamily, Taylor Frankie Paul, Sarah Beeston, Ruby Franke, these are all mormon. Most of the Utah-based influencers are mormon, and there's a bigger amount of successful and popular influencers from Utah, than from LA or NY.

For me it immediately explained why this viral content is like that. Why we're having such influx of highly patriarchal, anti-feminist, very dangerous and sexist content, put in front of the eyes of young women. Why it's being promoted as an ideal way of life. How are these women able to share this life as if they truly believed it was good and ideal. How could they think it's harmless? If they're using the internet to the extent that they're creating content, how would they not be exposed to any feminism at all? And they wouldn't because it's against their religion to engage with content like that, or with people talking about it. Because being raised in a high-control religion, they would truly believe their lives are the ideal. They would be presented with it as their only option, the only way of life possible for a woman.

It's heartbreaking because I can now understand why it was so easy to push Ballerina Farm to give up her entire life ambition to get married and carry children for a male she didn't even want to go out with, the pressure from the religion to do so would be immense, she would have been raised to see this as the only option, everything else in her life would be considered pointless. She wouldn't have an actual choice, she'd be groomed for this from the moment she was born. Mormons don't advertise 'looking for your soulmate', they only instruct women to marry a mormon male who completed his mission and make it work.

So how does the immensely rich mormon church play into this? I couldn't see it until Alyssa explained in a very detailed way how youtube content advertising works. I didn't know about this either, but here's the overview:

How much you get paid on youtube, instagram, tik-tok, or other online content platform, depends on what type of content it is, based on how much advertisers are willing to pay to put adverts on it. For instance, you get paid much more for finance content, because banks will pay premium prices to be advertised in a finance-related video. If you're making content on cooking, you get paid way less, because it's not such a lucrative field. If you're making content on christianity, you get similarly low price as for cooking, christian church is not that rich. But, if you're making content as a mormon, that's showcasing some aspect of a mormon life, even if you don't specifically say you're mormon, the price goes way up, to the point where it's as lucrative as finance. The mormon church is making sure that the mormon influencers are being paid premium prices for their content, because people who get massively interested in the influencers, eventually find out that it's the mormon life being advertised, and some of them consider taking on mormonism. Which gives church more converts, which means the church will earn more money. The content we're watching is one huge advert sponspored by mormon church, and we don't even know it.

Alyssa figured this out because her content falls under the keyword 'mormon', and her comments warned her that the church is advertising on her videos, even when she's making mormon-critical content. She then realized that she too was being paid a premium price for her views, just because they're mormon themed. She went on to discover that even just being an influencer in Utah will fetch a premium price, because most of mormons are based in Utah. For more detailed and comprehensive explanation on this, watch her video!

Advertising is not the only way the mormon church is spending their money, they've also built a shopping mall, and are basically spending their money by investing and gambling and everything any corporation does with their profits. It's making me mad, and also makes the members of the church mad when they discover where 10% of their income goes, because they're told it's being used for charity and community service, and not advertisments and building malls.

For me this solves a mystery of how is it possible, in this day and age to have such influx of tradwives and influencers of 'traditional life', they're being sponsored by an organization making a profit off of it, making sure that anyone making this content is so well paid, they're able to live off of it, and keep creating more of it, and in the process of doing that, groom young women into their lifestyle.

Learning more about religions, specifically high-control religions, makes me realize just how much of it is happening all around us, but invisible, not naming what it is. It's similar to MLM's, the people inside are constantly trying to lure more people in, to make profit for those on the top, while the organization keeps changing names and hides their business structure in order to save their reputation. People can get influenced by it, and sucked in, without even knowing about it. Somehow most MLM's are also in Utah.

Mormon church also asked to no longer be called that, in order to stop being associated with the words like 'cult', which people have identified it as. Now they're working under more secretive names, and hidden business practices, so we wouldn't even know what we're being influenced by, and why is the content in front of us what it is.

#mormonism #religion critical #patriarchal religion #cults #tradwives #feminism #radical feminism #mormon church #insane how i had no idea all this was going on

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justporo · 11 months

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Who's the goose... (1)

Finally having arrived in Baldur's Gate, Astarion finds the wrong pocket to pick - and gets turned into a goose as punishement. Peace was never an option.

PART 2 | MASTERLIST | AO3

Author's Note: This might as well have been the stupidest idea I've ever had but I couldn't get it out of my head, so here we are. Thanks for input and giving me some more stupid ideas for this to my bf, @tatterings, @bearhugsandshrugs and @the-littlest-raindrop and @megschaef98 for already cackling about it (and everyone else on that server for your love and support!); ah also Neil Newbon for coming up with this... The wonderful little doodle is once more done by the lovely @azaani-art!

Pairing: Uhm, Goosetarion(Astarion)/GN!Tav (You)

Rating: Stupid

Warnings: goose? (I'm sorry, I'm really just running with the bit by now...)

Wordcount: 3,7k

~~~

A goose sat in front of you all.

And it looked weirdly humanoid how it sat there: tiny rubbery legs stretched out in front of it and the wings too – as if it didn’t know how to properly move or place them.

The goose’s head turned around on the long neck to look at you and your companions out of its small red button eyes. The feathers on top of its head were a bit ruffled and almost gave it the look of having a flurry of white curls right there.

It lifted its stretched out wings a little. Looked at them one after another and made a small croaking noise as it did so.

That made it shut its beak again and snap its red gaze back to you.

You looked down at the goose in shock. The goose looked at you with what you presumed was shock too.

And then it opened its beak wide and started wailing with loud honks, as loud as its avian lungs would allow.

The party had finally arrived at Baldur’s Gate. And then had quickly realised that none of you had really an idea where to start your investigation. So, you had taken to walk around the Lower City and just casually ask around to find out more about what seemed to be going on in the city – especially with this Lord Enver Gortash and his newly established Steel Watch.

The day had been long and exhausting. You all kind of had forgotten how a day without a battle, killing and mortal peril was spent – just walking around in the city, engaging in inconspicuous small talk and trying not to lose your mind by getting nowhere with it – what could possibly be more dreadful than that?

Morale had already been low since the start. Halsin had very obviously been a bit unsettled by the big, bustling city, no matter how much he had tried to hide it. Jaheira had just stoically taken in the city and what had changed since she had last been there. Lae’zel had basically been gnawing on your ears with her complaints of how stupid your approach of talking to people was. That in turn had made Shadowheart almost want to choke her (again). And Wyll had become awfully silent since you’d entered the city – too much was weighing on his mind. Gale was just sad.

Karlach probably was the only one in quite the happy mood: since it’s been a very long time for her since she’s actually been to Baldur’s Gate she was just amazed by everything she saw. And she promptly called that out. Every. Single. Thing. So really not doing anything to help with the low mood of the group.

You had just tried to make the best out of it although you certainly had had to admit to yourself that the missing success of your day had been weighing on you also. But you had tried to be stubborn about it.

Astarion had walked by your side the whole day, surprisingly diligent on his part. You had felt that he was tense – as could have been expected upon entering the lair of his master again. But he had really tried to support you with your current goals – and you were absolutely thankful for that.

But as the day had grown late you had felt the annoyance rise in him too, just as much as it had within you.

It had already become dark in the city. Lanterns and the pale moonlight now had been the only sources of light. You had known that the group should’ve soon gotten back to the inn to retire for the night – despite having found out nothing today.

But you had wanted to push for one last attempt - unfortunately. And when you had happened upon a rather feisty older fellow, Astarion’s thin-stretched patience had finally snapped.

After you had tried to talk to this guy and he had only kept answering in riddles, you had been about to give up when you had noticed that the vampire beside you had disappeared.

You had feared nothing good from this finding and sure as all Nine Hells you had seen how Astarion had tried to sneak up on this man and pickpocket him.

And this had been, when things had really gone sideways – and then backwards; and down a hill.

With Astarion’s hands still in his robe the man had turned around to the vampire and looked him straight in the eye: “What do you think you’re doing there, young man?” He hadn’t even sounded awfully angry, rather a bit amused.

Astarion had simply blinked at him, absolutely dumbfounded that he had so easily been found out. The guy had watched him for a second longer with a small, suppressed smile playing on his lips and then started to whisper as an ominous purple glow had started to emit from him.

The vampire had hastily tried to scurry back, but it was already too late. An explosion of purple light had blinded you all and made you turn away with groans.

And when you had turned around again, both men standing there had been gone, only a single goose left in their place that had looked dazed and very out of place.

So here you were now: with a vampire turned into a screaming goose.

You really didn’t know if you wanted to laugh or cry – probably both. The wailing from polymorphed Astarion was ringing in your ears. Gods, geese could be really loud, couldn’t they?

You looked around your group of friends in desperate need for help.

Karlach had completely lost it, almost doubled over on the cobblestone street. Even Lae’zel bit her bottom lip in an attempt to not burst out laughing, covering half her face with one of her hands. But most of your other companions just looked as shocked and surprised as you.

Gale had his hand on his chin and was obviously very deep in thought – surely, he was already figuring something out to fix this mess. At least you immediately deeply hoped for it.

For a moment you just stood there. Warm, orange light from some nearby windows was lighting the absurd scene. The goose’s wailing drifted to the background for a few moments as your vision blurred and your gaze wandered miles away.

How exactly had you ended up in this ridiculous situation? Out of everything, how had all the steps you had taken led you to this night where your already traumatised soulmate had been turned into poultry and was now shouting the whole city down? Didn’t you have enough on your godsdamned plate already? Would the damned gods ever give you a break?

Your eyes started to burn and water as you stared into the void. You really couldn’t take much more.

But how many times had you been at this point? Too many already anyways.

So, you did, what you always did: took a deep breath, closed your eyes for a hot second, pressed your fingers to the bridge of your nose and tried to focus your thoughts again.

You’d find a way out of this and if not… Well, you’d find a way to live with Astarion as a goose, for better or for worse.

When you focused again on the scene, you saw how Halsin was slowly approaching the goose that was Astarion and was still honking as if his life depended on it – and maybe it did, who knew? Gale was whispering an incantation and focusing on the goose. The rest was just still standing around with quizzical looks on their faces or casually losing it and losing their last shreds of sanity.

Halsin had almost reached the crying bird, all the while softly mumbling calming words to Astarion. The druid stretched out his arms as if he planned to pick up the still screaming animal.

But just before he could reach it, Astarion saw it coming, stopped his whining and jumped up with fluttering wings. With a quickness that would have been astounding for such an animal, had you not known that it was normally a dexterous rogue, the goose got up from its awkward sitting position and snapped at the fingers of the druid. Halsin immediately recoiled and looked a little hurt.

Astarion was flaring his big white wings now – lifting them up and his long goose neck stretched out, ready to snap again at anyone that tried to touch him. At least he had stopped honking now and was just swaying his head around at all of you standing around him in a loose half circle – ready to fight anyone who would dare touch a single feather on his head.

“Astarion?”, you asked cautiously, fearing that the transmutation hadn’t altered the vampire’s mind as well. The goose immediately turned to you, a small and much more silent honk left its throat. Its wings lowered a little as soon as it heard your voice. “I know this will sound stupid given the situation, but uh, please try to calm down?”, you asked him and made a grimace while you helplessly stretched out your arms to him, bending your knees.

Astarion honked once more in a clearly annoyed tone and let his wings sink fully as if he was letting his shoulders drop in defeat.

“I’m sorry”, you whispered and felt a wave of sadness wash over you. Meanwhile the others had started to get out of their stupor or calmed themselves from their laughter. Everyone stayed clear of the clearly readily violent goose though.

You crouched down fully and stretched out your arms even more towards the animal that kept watching you intently. With no more words or honks, the goose settled down its wings and carefully waddled over to you and your opened arms.

Once Astarion was very close you couldn’t help yourself but go to your knees and reach out both your arms wider for the animal – ready to give it a hug. Astarion slowly stepped into them and you carefully wrapped your arms around the goose as it made a small honk. It sounded pretty sad and helpless and you could suddenly feel tears well up in your eyes.

You held the much smaller animal. The feathers were surprisingly soft and Astarion carefully placed his small goose head on your shoulder with another quiet honk. It was so light you could barely feel it at all resting there.

The mood in the group had suddenly soured watching you take your partner in your arms – no matter the actual ridiculousness of the situation.

You held the goose and petted it softly, until Gale interrupted the awkward silence with an exclamation.

“Aha”, the wizard made and came back out of his trancelike concentration. He looked around in some confusion as everyone watched the tragic scene of you sadly hugging the poor animal that had awkwardly stretched out its wings a little to return the sentiment – it hadn’t really worked well.

“Uhm”, Gale made and then cleared his throat to catch everyone’s attention. The group just looked at him in silence.

“By the gods, what is with the sudden graveyard atmosphere? You all do realise Astarion is not de- I mean…”, he started sassily and interrupted himself when he realised his mistake. And before he could start again, the bird in your arms had started writhing and honking again. Obviously, Astarion had opinions on not getting the same kind of compassion from Gale as from the others now.

He tried to break free from your arms, but you held him easily – he was just… a goose after all. Although, you got whacked in the face by his wings several times. “Astarion!”, you scolded him. “I really don’t think you’re in a position to be feisty right now. And I’m pretty sure he has something to share that will help about the situation you are in. And might I add, the situation you put yourself in on your own!” A bit of anger welled up in you at the vampire and his godsdamned shenanigans that had landed you all in this mess now. Also his audacity to still be sassy about it – not even being turned into a featherball could stop him from that, it seemed.

The goose calmed down, reluctantly. Its beak was still open as it stared at the wizard – probably the equivalent of the vampire baring his teeth at him. You carefully let him go and just sat down backwards on the ground. You could use it right now.

“Now, if we’re not in a poultry house anymore”, Gale continued cheerily and gave the present poultry a death glare. The goose gave a very slight hiss – at least he had retained that capability.

You waved Gale to please go on.

“Alright, it’s – as you might’ve figured already – a transmutation spell. And might I add a mighty one. I really have no idea who that fellow was, but it surely was the wrong pocket to pick, Astarion – or might I say Goosetarion”, the wizard explained in his scholarly manor and wiggled a finger at the goose while grinning – earning himself another hiss. At least someone present seemed intrigued about the whole situation.

Hearing that it was a mighty spell already let your heart sink. But Gale went on and everyone just listened intently: “The good news is though: transmutations spells can’t be held for overly long. So, I’d say we’re back with our sassy humanoid companion in about…” Gale drew out his words as everyone hung on his lips.

“I’d say twenty-four hours at the latest.”

“TWENTY-FOUR HOURS”, came back the answer in unison from almost all the companions – and a mournful honk. Your mouth fell open but honestly you were immediately flooded with relief that you wouldn’t have to spend the rest of your life with a goose – although you would have committed to that.

“Tchk, and what are we going to do with him in the meantime? Walk him around on a leash? We can’t waste any time!”, Lae’zel commented. Karlach started to snicker again, and so did Shadowheart and Wyll around her.

Goosetarion small red eyes flashed viciously and he quickly lashed out at her like he had at Halsin before, aiming for the githyanki ankle. But Lae’zel had the upper hand and quickly pushed him away with her foot – not exactly kicking him but not exactly being gentle either.

The goose landed ungracefully on its back, legs flailing in the air while it kept complaining and trying to get up again.

“Lae’zel”, you shouted but she simply shrugged at you.

“Well, what else are we going to do? Tomorrow will just be another day of walking around the city trying to gather more information. What harm can it be then? Also, it’s not like we could just leave him here anywhere anyway. Beastly as he is, but he’s still only a goose now, we need to protect him”, Wyll chimed in sympathetically. You nodded your head in agreement and the others muttered their agreement, although some just a tad reluctantly.

Goosetarion in the meanwhile had waddled back over to you to be embraced again, head hanging slightly, doing his best to look like… well, a kicked goose.

You softly stroked his long feathery neck and noticed to your amusement that his rump started to wiggle when you did that. It surely seemed he wasn’t aware that he was doing that. You couldn’t hide a grin and you saw that Halsin grinned at you and the goose too.

“Can we just go back to the inn then? It’s already super late and my feet hurt”, Shadowheart added after it had been settled. Everyone hummed in exhausted agreement.

And so you went on your way. You softly got up from your seat on the cobble road while the goose complained about the lack of caressing happening. You stretched your back and watched after your friends that had already started to walk back towards your location for the night.

“Want me to carry you?”, you asked looking down at the goose and stretched out your arms again. But Goosetarion gave a curt honk and stretched his long neck away from you in an offended manner, then started to waddle after the others.

Now that you knew that he would hopefully be back to his normal humanoid self very soon, the humorous nature of the situation wasn’t as lost on you anymore. The way the goose wiggled its whole torso around while trying to catch up with the others was a sight to behold. Especially if you compared it with Astarion’s usual feline grace. And yet he was way too proud to just accept help.

You snorted and started to follow behind Goosetarion. He heard that and swung his head around while he kept walking, making him look even more ridiculous. You snorted more. And were pretty sure you could see the small red eyes scream bloody murder at you for mocking him.

But Astarion was way too focused and needed all his energy to keep up. Occasionally, he even had to break into a sprint – almost tripping over his rubbery feet and spreading out his wings to not lose balance. It was truly hilarious.

Some idle chatter developed between the companions and you on the way back. And of course, Goosetarion was the subject matter.

“Is there nothing you can do before the spell runs out?”, you asked Gale at some point while you were careful to walk exactly by the goose to offer at least a little protection.

“Oh, believe me, I would if I could – although I have to say I’m enjoying this situation a little bit-“ (“HONK!”) “ but it is, as I pointed out before, a pretty powerful spell. And if I started to fumble with it I might make it worse and-“ (“Honk…”) “- and I guess you’d rather have him back in one piece”, Gale ended and ignored the bickering animal between him and you. You nodded in agreement with the wizard – seemed your safest bet would be to just sit this one out.

“Looks like until tomorrow you’re just going to be a silly little goose then, aren’t you, Asta-OWW!” That had been a line crossed for Goosetarion. And other than Halsin and Lae’zel, the wizard surely was not quick enough to avoid the rogue goose’s vicious attack on his ankles. Gale awkwardly tried to kick at the goose but Goosetarion had learnt from the last time and quickly ducked out of the way, rushing around you so he could hide behind your legs.

“You had that one coming”, you mumbled under your breath as Gale looked at you hurt. He walked a little faster then, trying to steer clear from the murderous bird and engaged others in conversation. Goosetarion waddled through your legs so he was walking in front of you again although you noticed that he was clearly starting to struggle

“And couldn’t you not just at least cast “Speak with animals” or something?”, Karlach took up the conversation about Goosetarion’s fate. You hadn’t even thought of that so far. You had just been too occupied with the situation as a whole. You simply shrugged because you had absolutely no idea.

“But he is not an animal”, Jaheira replied to Karlach’s suggestion in her matter-of-fact demeanor from in front of you. Halsin beside her nodded silently. “He is still his vampiric elven self, just temporarily in another form. Even if Halsin or I wildshaped into geese we would not be able to speak with him because we are at least partly beast when we turn”, the infamous druid added to her explanation. “As far as I know there is no spell to work in this situation. But quite frankly maybe we could all do without his yapping for at least a day and he learns a lesson about all of this”, she finished and gave the goose a stern look.

Goosetarion stopped and made another rather sad honk. He really must have been having the worst and most humbling of times.

You stopped just behind the goose: “I’m sure she didn’t mean it.” The look Jaheira gave you made sure though that she absolutely did, but you brushed over it. You held out your arms to the goose again. However, Goosetarion again just waddled off on his own.

But the way to the inn was long and the goose was soon almost completely exhausted, probably amplified by not being used to moving around like that. At some point, when you had already slid out of all the other conversations and were just deep in your thoughts, you were stopped by another soft honk just below you.

Astarion stood before you and had spread his wings towards you, neck craned up towards you. It again looked weirdly humanoid with the way he moved and behaved. When you didn’t immediately react because you were really just very exhausted and didn’t catch on, the goose started to kind of hop in place and honked again.

“Oh, you want to be picked up! Sorry”, you replied and bent down to awkwardly grab the animal.

After some wriggling around and Astarion’s earnest tries to not writhe around too much in your arms, you were able to lift him up. He was stretching his neck and small feet out and made small noises that made you think that he wasn’t quite very comfortable with what was happening. But he gave his best to cope.

Once you kind of had him settled down on your hip, one arm around him and one under him to support him, he seemed to be considerably more comfortable, better even. When you had caught up to the others again and Gale sassily lifted an eyebrow at the goose now being carried around, Astarion made full use of his long neck to peck at the wizard’s sleeve.

Gale squealed again – much to the amusement of the rest of the group and made sure to keep even more distance from the goose. Goosetarion gave a contented honk then and refrained from biting anyone else for the rest of the way.

You were still laughing softly with the others, when the inn came into view. At least you hadn’t lost your humour so far.

(To be continued...)

~~~

Taglist: @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @bloopthebat @dark-star-exe

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 4 months

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Overblot Universe (3) | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

Part 1 • 2 •4• 5

You could feel the urge to sleep pulling at your eyes

Faint voices sounding muddled had you fighting a little

As you found your eyes drooping once again you could feel something wrap around your arms

Naturally you pull away, reminding you of those inky tentacles that held you captive a short while ago

You pause when you hear the sound of vines snapping

These weren’t tentacles

But vines

Feeling the circumference of the vine you searched for thorns

Finding that they felt shaved and dulled

The detail brought a strange sense of comfort

The kind you had when you were with your dear horned friend

You follow their pull realizing the vines had come from an oval source of light

Blocking your eyes, you could finally make out where the light was coming from

The comforting green light shed through giant leaves that were covering the sun

It looked like you were back in Night Raven’s Botanical garden

Though it looked incredibly over grown

“(Y/n) there you are! Where’d you go? My tummy’s going to kill me!”

The pitchy voice had you perking up, your eyes watering as you recognized the little fur ball running to you

“Grim!”

“Wah! What is the meaning of this Hench human!”

You couldn’t help the tears that dripped into his grey fur

“I missed you so much!”

“Heh?! Why would you miss me? You been sleepin’ in here the whole time.”

“Have I?”

Just then you realized the encounters with the overblot versions of the dorm leaders were incredibly fuzzy

Like bad dreams

Giving Grim one last squeeze before releasing him you inhaled knowing that was all it was

Just bad dreams

“Grim, I thought you were hungry enough to wake them up quickly?”

“I was! But suddenly they just grabbed me and started to talking nonsense!”

The vice dorm leader shook his head before smiling at you and holding his hand out to you

“Glad to see you’re awake enough to make your appointment!”

“What do you mean Jamil?”

He smiled pulling you up and into his side

Holding you incredibly close as he walked into the overgrown expanse of the vegetation

Jamil looked heavenly under the shaded natural light

He looked so happy

Something in you told you not to ask about Kalim

Before you could question him more he pulls back a particularly large leaf to reveal something lovely

A picnic with a number of dishes that made your mouth water and sitting wistfully beside them was none other than–

“Tsunotaro!?”

“Child of Man, I’m glad that you’re here to join us!”

Grim ran past you to get to the food you let Jamil intertwine his fingers with yours as he led you to the blanket

In no time at all you were eating and chatting

The ghosts of inky hands and tentacles leaving your mind every now and then as you spoke more and more with your friends

Sometimes the thought of how weird this pair up was but you had to pay attention Malleus was spoon feeding something to you

And even when the food was all gone and Grim was napping on your stomach

All that existed of the nightmare before was the faint memory of ink which was constantly overshadowed by Jamil and Malleus

“That’s what I’m saying: these clouds look like a bat!”

“I disagree. A Briar Valley bat is much larger than a fruit bat…and their tails are much larger.”

“But they’re still classified as a bat right?”

“Technically.”

“See? (Y/n), please help him understand.”

It’s nice….to relax like this

“Hey uh how long have I been sleeping?”

“Not long I am sure. You left shortly after our breakfast together and Grim claimed you went on your own after that.”

“Really? That’s not how I remember it…”

“Oh Really? What do you remember?”

That fuzzy feeling was there again

you can feel your head ache while you tried to make the image in your head clearer

But alas it never did

“Nothing. Anyway let’s just go back to our special day!”

“Yes, let’s. You both have promised to indulge in our mini-gargoyle-making session.”

As promised all three of you separated a large block of clay that you weren’t aware that they brought

Beginining to shape mini gargoyles with it

It was hard using the utensils Malleus seems to have bought

But they were great

It was all going great

Until you heard Jamil whimper

Looking up you hadn’t expected what you were seeing

Watching as Jamil’s figure faded like an image on a screen

Phasing in an out the clay falling from his fingers as it continued

“Jamil! Are you okay what’s wrong?”

“Do not tell me…”

Looking over at Tsunotarou, his face was twisted and his eyes were glaring at the flickering Jamil

But it didn’t seem that he was directing that hatred at him but someone else

“Jamil if I release you can you stop him?”

“Him?”

“I-I’m not sure I can’t feel the others–ack!”

Jamil belted out another round of coughing

“Jamil, Malleus what is going on!?”

Malleus’ glare was now directed at you

Taking his real name leaving your lips as an insult in and of itself

“(Y/n), I think it’s best you go back to sleep.”

The second the word left his mouth you felt a weight on all your muscles

Pulling at your eyelids and even your consciousness

But you fought back

Backing away from the fae who was now worriedly reaching out for you

Instead you ended up closer to Jamil trying to grab onto his flickering form

“(Y—-Y—/n-n-n-)! P-lease!”

His form continued to flicker out of existence allowing you to see the familiar image of the Overblotted Jamil

“Viper make them sleep. I will come to your aid next. I just need you to make them sleep!”

The word had the same pull but you were getting used to it

Pushing through you watched the phasing Overblotted Jamil’s eyes light up as he tried to say something

Before he could he screamed out finally dissipating into nothingness

His disappearance revealed something more to you

The green paradise you’d been in began to melt away churning and piling into mounds of ink

Ink that you found yourself sinking into

“(Y/n)!!!”

Malleus’ layered voice was screeching and the world was shaking

But that wasn’t stopping your quick descent and sooner than you could react your vision was engulfed in blackness

The feeling of your heart being pulled out of something deep was what met you when you found you could open your eyes once again

“There you should be free of that creatures curse. Now my King we’ve much to catch up on.”

Part 4?

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helen-with-an-a · 3 months

Text

I am an adult epilogue

Heyyyy. So who know that I am an adult ending would cause so much debate ahahaha. But real talk, thank you so much for your support and comments - I love them all <3<3<3

Here is the epilogue to I am an adult. It is set at the UWCL final 2025 (getting the manifesting in early) and is fluffy to make up for the angst in the series hehe.

Shout out to @lyak12 for the inspiration and hype on this - lots of love to ya. Also she is the reason this is out earlier than planned <3

Anyways, I hope you enjoy

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 3.5 : Part 4 : Part 5 : Part 6 : Part 7 : Epilogue

Barça Femeni x Reader ; Lena Oberdorf x Reader

Description: R and Lena go watch Barça win the UWCL

TW: Shit do be fluffy as fuck

Lisbon was sunny and welcoming. The gentle golden light spilled into the hotel room, the white curtains dancing in the salty air. It was early, far too early to be awake. The sun filtered through, pulling you from sleep’s embrace. The city outside was just beginning to stir; workmen’s chatter and the clatter of the trams drifted up from the streets below. The aroma of freshly baked bread and brewing coffee wafted through the open window, mingling with the scent of the sea. You lay there for a moment, savouring the peaceful transition from dream to reality. How different everything was from this time last year.

You groaned as you shifted onto your back, stretching slightly to relieve the aches gained overnight. It was warm in bed – the good kind of warm, the type that made you never want to leave its confines again. You shimmied your way across the bed a little more, relishing the source of the heat. Lena’s skin was smooth under your fingers, the muscles soft yet firm as your hands danced around her bare waist. Her face was turned away from you, her dark hair fanning across the pillow, loose pieces falling across her forehead. She stirred slightly at your touch, a contented sigh escaping her lips. You smiled, pressing a featherlight kiss on her shoulder, relishing in her presence, relaxing into the warmth of her body next to yours.

The past year had been a whirlwind. From moving clubs to moving countries to building a life with Lena, but now, in this serene moment, everything felt right. You were in Lisbon with the love of your life. You were about to watch your best friends, your family, compete for their fourth title. You had just come off the back of a fantastic first season at Bayern and had about two weeks off before the Euros preparation began. Everything was so different from this time last year.

You closed your eyes, listening to the symphony of morning sounds mingling with the steady rhythm of Lena's breathing. The faint calls of seagulls, the distant hum of the city waking up, all formed a backdrop to the intimate quiet of your hotel room. You felt the bed shift as Lena rolled over, muttering something in her sleep as she flopped onto you, her breath puffing gently against your collarbones. You gazed down at her, her eyelashes fluttering slightly as she dreamt. There was something magical about these quiet mornings you had grown to love, the world outside moving at its own pace while you and Lena enjoyed the luxury of stillness. You could feel the rise and fall of her chest, each breath syncing with yours in a timeless, perfect rhythm.

Your mind wandered back to the adventures and challenges of the past year. Moving to a new country had been daunting, with the language barrier, the differences, and the new playing style, but Lena had been your anchor through it all. Her unwavering support made the transition easier, helping you establish yourself in the team and navigate the new league. She had encouraged you to return to Barcelona whenever you could. Christmas had been a whirlwind of travel, stopping off quickly to see Lena’s family before spending New Year's in the Spanish city. You savoured your time in the city you once called home, basking in the sun that seemed too rare in Munich.

As the minutes passed, the city outside grew livelier, the sounds of daily life becoming more pronounced; the workers on their morning commutes, the tourists discovering the metropolis. Yet, in your cosy haven, time seemed to slow down. You stroked Lena's back gently, your touch light and reverent. The sun continued to rise, casting a golden glow that bathed the room in warmth and light.

You felt a deep sense of contentment as you lay there, holding each other. Moments slipped past as you reminisced on the season gone by - the highest joys, the lowest lows, and the simple moments in between. Everything seemed so … complete … yet so different from how you would have imagined your life.

Eventually, Lena stirred again, this time her eyes fluttering open. She looked up at you, her gaze sleepy but filled with affection. "Guten Morgen," she murmured, her voice husky with sleep.

"Good morning," you replied softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead.

She smiled a slow, sweet smile that made your heart swell. "Hast Du gut geschlafen?"

"I did. It was perfect," you said, and it was true. With Lena beside you, everything was perfect.

“Wh-what time is it?” she asked drowsily, her hand coming to rub the sleep from her eye.

“Um… a little after 8, I think,” you replied, glancing at the blinking clock on the edge of the TV.

Lena groaned softly, snuggling closer to you. "Do we have to get up yet?"

You chuckled, running your fingers through her hair. "Not just yet. We have some time before we need to head out."

"Gut," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "Ich möchte noch ein bisschen so bleiben.”

You tightened your arms around her, enjoying the feeling of her body against yours. “Ok, Liebe.” The world outside could wait. For now, all that mattered was this moment.

The atmosphere inside the stadium was electric. The crowd was buzzing with anticipation, the energy palpable and infectious. Thousands of Culers filled the stands, making it feel like you were back at the Johan for an El Clásico; flags were waved high, scarves were held aloft, and faces were painted in Blaugrana. As the clock ticked down to kickoff, the noise level increased. Chants and songs erupted from different sections of the stadium, each group of supporters trying to outdo the other. Drums pounded rhythmically, creating a heartbeat that pulsed through the crowd. The sound of drums and air horns added to the cacophony, a symphony of support that echoed through the vast arena.

As you weaved your way through the crowd, you felt Lena’s hand skim your lower back, her fingers resting on the bare skin. You looked back over your shoulder, smiling at her as you caught her eye.

“Stay close to me, Schatz,” she called, her body moving closer subconsciously. “I don’t want you to get lost.” You smiled at her concern, switching the half-full cup in your other hand to interlock your fingers with hers.

“Now, you can’t go anywhere either,” you teased, pressing a kiss on the back of her knuckles.

The two of you continued to navigate through the throng of fans, stopping occasionally to take photos of each other and with the fans, the excitement around you intensifying with every step. The smell of food mixed with the fresh scent of the afternoon air, creating an intoxicating blend that was quintessentially football. Vendors shouted their wares, adding to the lively atmosphere, while children darted between legs, their faces alight with the joy of the occasion. This … this is what helped you fall in love with the game as a little girl – balancing high on your parent's shoulders, joining in on the chants until your voice was hoarse, grinning so widely your face hurt.

The stadium loomed large above you, the sun beating down, promising a perfect day for football. As you reached your seats, you felt a rush of exhilaration. The view of the pitch was perfect, and you could see the players warming up, their movements sharp and precise. Lena squeezed your hand, her excitement mirroring your own.

“Starting XIs … go,” she laughed as you demanded her answer. You bickered the time away, questioning the potential lineups, the tactics, the score line.

The crowd's energy reached a fever pitch as the players took their positions on the field, and the referee prepared to blow the whistle. The roar that erupted when the game began was deafening, a collective outpouring of passion and support. You and Lena were swept up in the moment, cheering and clapping along with everyone else, your hearts beating in sync with the rhythm of the match. You had no time to reminisce about the sadness you had felt a few days ago – longing for this to be you on the field. But, as Lena reminded you, there was always next year. And it was your family down on the grass. Your family was preparing for this moment, but there was no way you were missing this because of what? You were feeling a little sad for yourself.

The stadium erupted in a chorus of cheers and chants as Barcelona clinched their fourth Champions League, three consecutive victories. The air crackled with jubilation, fans embracing strangers and loved ones alike, swept up in the euphoria of the Blaugrana victory. You and Lena joined in the celebrations, caught up in the wave of emotion that swept through the stands. Fireworks lit up the sky above the stadium, illuminating the faces of jubilant supporters. You barely noticed the tears streaming down your face until Lena tenderly wiped them away.

“Schatz?” she asked carefully, her lips brushing the shell of your ear to be heard above the noise.

“Hmm?” you sigh, looking up at her. She was awfully close; a slight readjustment and your lips would be on hers.

“Bist du bei mir?”

“Yeh,” you breathed out, leaning into her hand resting on your cheek.

“Do you want to go down to the pitch to see everyone?” she asked. You nodded slowly, still dazed by her closeness, drunk on her cinnamon scent. “C’mon,” she smiled, lacing your fingers together as she tugged you down the steps. You could see the huddle of players doing their lap of the pitch. You spotted familiar faces beaming into the crowd, waving as they found their personal supports.

You didn’t have to wait long before Clàudia spotted you, her eyes lighting up with recognition. "Oh, Déu meu, Oh, Déu meu, Oh, Déu meu," she exclaimed, practically pulling you over the barrier into a warm hug.

“Cuidadosa, Clàu,” you chuckled, reciprocating her tight embrace. Her infectious enthusiasm swept you up, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Help a girl onto the pitch?” you teased, amused as she hoisted you over the metal barrier.

“You too, Lena.” She smiled, offering a hand to your girlfriend.

As you watched Lena gracefully navigate over the barrier, you suddenly felt a weight on your back, causing you to stagger briefly. The arms wrapped around you were pale with light freckles adorned with familiar tattoos. "Usted vino," came the cheerful voice from behind you.

“Of course I came, Oni. Not a chance in hell I would miss this," you replied, twisting awkwardly to reciprocate her hug. You both spun around playfully, laughing at Ona’s delighted squeals. "Vamos, Oni, get down so I can give you a proper hug," you chuckled, patting her forearm gently.

She embraced you tightly, conveying in that moment all the unspoken words and emotions of your time apart and the joy of the occasion. "Felicitaciones, Oni. Estoy muy orgulloso de ti," you whispered in her ear, feeling her hold tighten in response.

"Desearía que todavía estuvieras jugando con nosotros," Ona murmured wistfully, her voice thick with emotion.

"Hey, no tears," you insisted gently, pulling back slightly to meet her eyes. "I miss playing with you too. I missed my favourite defender when I’m over in Germany. But no thinking about that today. This is your moment." You shook your head with a smile, trying to lighten the mood. "Because my best friend has another Champions League title with her childhood club!" You swayed gently from side to side, celebrating quietly together.

After a few more precious moments locked in each other's arms, you gently nudged her towards her waiting family on the edge of the pitch. Watching her run off, you meandered through the players until you found Lucy.

"What number's this?" you teased, tapping her on the head playfully.

"Fuck off," she laughed, slinging an arm around your shoulder as you leaned into her.

"So, how's Munich treating you?" Lucy asked casually as if you hadn't been catching up frequently over the phone with Ona, her often joining in on the conversations.

"It’s been great; I’m really happy," you nodded to yourself – the circumstances of your arrival might not have been the best, but you certainly weren’t regretting going.

"I’m glad to hear that. Gee mentioned you seem a lot happier now," Lucy remarked.

"Keeping tabs on me, Luce?" you grinned.

“Of course, I have, kid. You’re basically my future-sister-in-law.” she teased. You froze momentarily.

"What?" you exclaimed, briefly stunned. "Have you? You better not be fucking with me, Bronze!"

“Chill, chill. Not yet, I haven’t. But I’ve got a ring, that’s for sure.” Lucy grinned mischievously, her words hanging in the air between you two. Your heart raced with the implications of her statement, and you stared at her in disbelief. You gawked at her, mouth hanging open. You blinked a few times, processing the absolute insanity that was running through your mind. You saw her bite her lip somewhat nervously. Was she anxious that you’d disapprove? You squealed, leaping onto her, joining in with the chorus of laughter.

“She’ll say yes, you know that, right?” you promised her

“That’s the plan,” Lucy joked, and you chuckled, pulling her happily into another hug.

“When?” you moved closer to her, your hand automatically coming to cover your lips.

“Probably depending on the outcome of the Euros. If she wins or we win again, then probably the first chance I get. Assuming it’s not the World Cup all over again,” she laughed a little. “If not, then when we’re on holiday afterwards.”

“Never would I thought I’d see the day,” you mocked, laughing as you brought her into another hug.

“You know … Gee mentioned something about you saving up? And that you’ve been asking Harder and Eriksson about holiday destinations? I think jewellery shops were involved,” she said casually. You blushed at her insinuation, the hue deepening as she snickered at your expression.

“Mind your business, Bronzey. When there’s something concrete to tell you, you know Ona will be the first to know, and by default, you’ll be the second.” You looked over at Lena. The way she had so seamlessly slotted into your life made your heart swell. You smiled as she laughed with Patri and slung her arm freely around Vicky.

“Oi, Lucia. Stop hogging, the pequeña.” Mapí called out, waving you both over to the gathered group of players. Lucy rolled her eyes playfully at Mapí's interruption but kept her arm around you as you walked towards the others. You couldn't shake off the mix of excitement and nervousness that Lucy's revelation had sparked in you. The group looked up as you approached, their smiles widening at seeing you and Lucy together again.

“What’s got you two all giggly?” Keira asked with a smirk, raising an eyebrow in mock curiosity. Of course, Lucy would have told Keira about her plan.

Lucy glanced at you with an impish grin before speaking, “Oh, just discussing some future plans.”

Your cheeks flushed as Lena turned to you, a puzzled expression on her face. “Future plans, huh? Care to share?”

“Nope,” you said hastily,

“All in good time, Oberdorf. For now, let’s just enjoy the moment.” Lucy grinned even wider, wiggling her eyebrows at the confused German, clearly enjoying the moment.

Slowly, you were ushered off the pitch by the officials, their gentle reminders of moving to the changing rooms and family boxes drowned out by the exuberant celebrations around you. The floodlights cast long shadows across the grass, and the deafening cheers of fans echoed through the stadium, but amidst the joy and chaos, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness over the absence of a particular blonde. She was there; you had seen the familiar bounce of her ponytail through the crowd, but every time you tried to reach her, she had disappeared again, swallowed up by the sea of people.

Determined, you stood on your tiptoes, craning your neck to see above the throng, searching for that familiar face. Your heart raced with anticipation and a hint of frustration.

“Buscando a alguien?” Her familiar voice cut through the noise, and you jumped, startled.

“Christ on a bike. Give a girl a heart attack why don’t you?” you grumbled teasingly, turning to face her.

“Lo siento.” Alexia smiled down at you, her laughter bubbling up, making you press a hand to your chest dramatically to calm your racing heart. You playfully shoved her shoulder before she pulled you into a warm hug. God, you had missed these. Alexia’s hugs were safe, comforting like a mother’s embrace, a sanctuary where you could rest for a moment amidst the chaos.

“Proud of you, Ale,” you murmured into her shoulder, your voice thick with emotion.

Alexia chuckled, the sound vibrating through your entire body, grounding you.

“Thank you, pequeña,” she said softly, her accent thick and endearing. Her words were like a balm to your soul. “I’m proud of you, too, you know.” You felt a flush of warmth at her words, a mixture of pride and affection swelling in your chest. The noise of the celebration faded into the background as you tightened your arms around her waist, feeling her solid, reassuring presence. You relaxed completely when you felt her place her cheek on your head, the gentle pressure conveying a depth of love and pride that words could never fully capture. “You’ve done good, cariño.”

The world around you continued to roar in celebration, but in that moment, it was just the two of you, wrapped in a cocoon of mutual respect and affection. You felt like you were 16 again, new to Barcelona and needed a steady presence to guide you. She hugged you warmly and promised to always be there for you. You breathed in her familiar scent, a mix of sweat, grass, and a hint of her favourite perfume, and let out a contented sigh.

“Ahora, entonces,” she said letting you go. “Lucy mencionó algo sobre las joyerías en Munich?”

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candy69gurl · 6 months

Note

HIII NEW FOLLOWER :3 i js wanna cutely ask if u could make sukuna a gentle yet rough husband(he's still the king of whatevs) and the protagonist has a dragonfly pendant that glows and makes the protagonist submissive when originally, shes a VERY stubborn wife :3 thats all tyt (⁠´⁠⊙⁠ω⁠⊙⁠`⁠)⁠！

Trapped in Temptation

Heian Era Ryomen Sukuna x f!reader

Warnings- 18+, slight non-con, kidnapping, threats, mentions of violence (Sukuna is gentle only with you), tricking, use of nicknames, use of abdomen mouth and mouths on four hands, fingering (Sukuna has nails), double penetration (use of 2 dicks in rear and front), nipple playing, clit rubbing, choking, raw sex (cumming inside), breeding kink

wc- 4k

ART NOT MINE !

"Uraume, did you hear what that insolent wench said to me? She dared insult my honor!" Raging, Ryomen Sukuna paces back and forth across their opulent quarters, his four arms slicing through the air with anger. "I can't believe she would be so impudent before our subordinates! We should do something about her."

"Calm down, Lord Sukuna," Uraume interjects, standing in front of their master to block his path. "She knows not what she says. It was uncalled for, but I assure you, I shall handle the matter." They cross their arms, a determined look in their eyes.

"Uraume, she is so stubborn! Her constant attitude toward me is tiresome! I am the strongest, yet she dares to challenge me?" Ryomen Sukuna's voice booms throughout the room, emphasizing each word as he speaks. "And to think I took her as my consort... She must learn her place, or else I may end up hurting her"

With a sigh, Uraume nods understandingly, "I understand Lord, but the truth is, you've grown attached to her, haven't you?" Uraume asks, a knowing smirk playing on their lips. "I have the best solution for it"

"Tell me about it", he sits down on his throne, crossing his massive legs.

It was a sunny afternoon, as Ryomen Sukuna scanned his vast territory, standing atop the highest point of his temple. In the distance, he saw you - an unusual figure, unlike anyone he had ever encountered. Something within him stirred, a feeling he could not explain. His instincts screamed to hunt and devour this new prey, but a strange force held him back.

"You know I told you," Uraume said, looking up at Sukuna with a playful smile, "that sometimes we can find the most unlikely sources of entertainment."

Ryomen Sukuna grunted, acknowledging the truth in Uraume's words. He couldn't deny the fascination he felt for you. "Indeed, I will send my spies to follow her."

Weeks passed, and Ryomen Sukuna found himself consumed by your thoughts. He could resist no longer, and finally confided in Uraume, "I have grown obsessed with her. I've decided that I wish to bring her to me - against her will if necessary". A wicked grin spreaded across his face, revealing his sharp teeth. "Prepare the plan for her capture, and ensure she arrives here safely."

A sinister grin flashed across Uraume's face. "As you wish, Lord Sukuna. Your desire shall be fulfilled." And so, with expert planning and stealth, Uraume carried out the task of capturing you. When you were finally brought before him, bound and trembling, Sukuna couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement.

In the grand temple, surrounded by darkness and the oppressive aura of Ryomen Sukuna, fear coursed through your veins like ice water. You couldn't help but tremble at the sight of the towering, monstrous figure before you. Even as he approached you gently, offering words of comfort, your heart pounded uncontrollably. The very air seemed heavy with his power, and you couldn't shake the feeling of loathing and dread that bubbled up within you.

"Fear not," Sukuna whispered, his voice a velvety rumble in the silence of the chamber. "I have taken a liking to you, and will not harm you...for now." He gazed into your frightened eyes, his own full of curiosity and perhaps even a hint of longing. "I promise you, you are safe here – for the moment."

Breathless and shaking, you pleaded with Ryomen Sukuna, "Please, let me go! I don't want to stay here, with you..." Your voice quivered, desperation clear in every word. But the mighty demon lord only stared at you, his expression unreadable behind his cold facade.

As days turned into nights, and then into weeks, you refused to eat, choosing instead to starve yourself in protest. Your pale and unwell body greatly concerned Sukuna.

"Enough of this nonsense!" Ryomen Sukuna's voice rang out, echoing through the temple chambers. "Uraume, attend to her."

Despite your protests, Uraume stepped forward, concern in their eyes. "Please, consume at least a bit, it will make things easier for all of us."

You looked up at them defiantly, tears welling in your eyes. "I won't eat!"

"This obstinacy is truly fascinating," Sukuna muttered, watching the scene unfold with a mixture of irritation and intrigue. "You underestimate the consequences of your actions. If you continue to starve yourself, your life will be endangered."

Uraume sighed softly, eyeing you with worry. "Just a morsel," they pleaded, gently placing a small bite of food on your tongue. "For your own sake."

But you stubbornly clamped your jaw shut, refusing to swallow the offered sustenance. Your determination was steadfast, fueled by your desire to leave the clutches of Ryomen Sukuna.

Seeing your resolve, Sukuna's eyes narrowed, and he spoke with a dangerous edge to his voice, "Very well. Have it your way. But know this, if you die, I am going to kill every human on this earth."

"Y-you cannot do that-", your words fell on deaf ears, as Ryomen Sukuna merely laughed darkly, the sound echoing ominously in the temple chambers.

"Oh, little mortal, do not mistake my words for idle threats. I am capable of such destruction. And if you persist in defying me, I may just do it."

Watching you waste away drove Uraume mad with worry. They tried once again to reason with you, "Do not test Lord Sukuna's patience, child. You know not the extent of his powers. You must eat, for humans' sake."

Reluctantly, you opened your mouth for Uraume, swallowing the food they offered. The taste was foreign, and your stomach growled in protest, but you knew better than to refuse. Your eyes met Ryomen Sukuna's, a mixture of defiance and despair in their depths. You were trapped, a caged bird desperate for freedom.

As days passed, you learned to endure your imprisonment, adapting to the odd rhythms of your captivity. Ryomen Sukuna watched you closely, a never-ending study of this fascinating creature who had captured his interest. Though you remained subdued, he couldn't help but notice the occasional flash of rebellion in your eyes.

One fateful day, unable to contain your frustration any longer, you spoke out of turn, lashing out at Ryomen Sukuna in front of his ever-loyal servants. The words tumbled from your lips, sharp and cutting, as if driven by sheer desperation to assert some semblance of control over your situation.

Ryomen Sukuna's eyes narrowed, his expression turning dark as thunderclouds. With a swift movement, he took hold of your arm, lifting you off the ground effortlessly. "Is this how you repay me for keeping you alive?" His voice was low and dangerous, sending shivers down your spine.

"Perhaps I should reconsider my decision to spare you," he snarled, holding you aloft in his powerful grip, the muscles in his arms straining visibly. Your heart leaped into your throat as you realized the severity of your actions.

"Kill me, it's better to die than to live with a monster like you!", defiance blazed in your eyes as you spat the words at Ryomen Sukuna, your voice shaking with emotion.

Surprisingly, Ryomen Sukuna paused, his eyes softening momentarily. "Monster?" He released you, allowing you to stumble back, breathless and terrified. "I have done nothing but provide you with a measure of safety, and this how you repay me?"

Uraume stepped forward, trying to diffuse the tension. "Lord Sukuna, she is weakened, emotionally and physically. It's not wise to push her too far." They glanced at you, concern etched in their face. "Let us give her time to adjust to her circumstances."

Ryomen Sukuna hesitated, his sharp gaze never leaving you. "Get her out of my sight. NOW!"

Uraume quickly complied, guiding you away from Sukuna and into the comfort of your quarters. As the door closed behind you, you slumped against it, gasping for breath. Emotions swirled within, tearing at your fragile psyche. Fear, anger, resentment, and a strange kind of fascination with the demonic ruler.

In the quiet hours of night, Uraume approaches Ryomen Sukuna, a dragonfly pendant glimmering in their hand. Their voice soft but filled with purpose. "We have found a way to control her defiance, Lord. A dragonfly pendant of ancient origin, said to bring submission to those who wear it."

"Show me," Ryomen Sukuna commands, his interest piqued. Taking the gleaming object from Uraume's hand, he examines the delicate craftsmanship, a faint glow emanating from its center. A slow, predatory smile spreads across his face. "This could prove useful."

Uraume nods, understanding his intentions. "Once she wears it, and the pendant comes in contact with your iris, she will become submissive, appeasing her rebellious nature. Perhaps we can break her spirit and bend her to our will."

Ryomen Sukuna studies the dragonfly pendant, imagining the effect it would have on her. His dark eyes sparkles with anticipation, the plan working perfectly in his favor.

"But Lord.. Remember you have to trick her into wearing it", Uraume warns knowing your stubborn nature.

Rolling his eyes, Ryomen Sukuna dismisses Uraume's warning. "Trust me, I know how to manipulate her."

The following day, as dawn breaks over his kingdom, he seeks you out with a seemingly contrite expression. Apologizing for the previous day's outburst, he holds out the dragonfly pendant. "Here, take this as a token of reconciliation. Wear it close to you, as a sign of our understanding".

There's an underlying current of menace beneath his words, caught off guard by the unexpected apology, you tentatively accept the dragonfly pendant from Ryomen Sukuna's hand. As the delicate piece of jewelry slides around your neck, your heart races in anticipation.

Sukuna's eyes fall on the pendant and it glows, then a sudden warmth floods your being, and you feel an overwhelming sensation of... submission?

The change is immediate and profound. Your resistance crumbles, replaced by an inexplicable urge to obey. You fall to your knees, your eyes fixed on the ground, "I am sorry, Lord Sukuna. Please forgive my insolence." A wave of submission washes over you, eliminating the last vestiges of rebellion in your heart. The dragonfly pendant, now resting delicately against your collarbone, pulsed gently with each beat of your heart.

Ryomen Sukuna's eyes widens in surprise, a twisted grin spreading across his face. With a predatory grin, Ryomen Sukuna takes advantage of this newfound submission. Grasping your arm, he pulls you to your feet, your eyes locked with his. "Now that we understand each other, let's start fresh. Let me introduce you to the joys of our new arrangement."

A sense of helplessness grips you, as he leads you to a sumptuous room, adorned with silk sheets and plush cushions. Your heart hammers wildly in your chest, and you struggle to process the turn of events. As Ryomen Sukuna guides you towards the luxurious bed, you can't help but wonder how much more control he intends to claim over your body and soul.

"Remove your clothing," he orders, his tone commanding yet tinged with anticipation. Your fingers tremble, complying with his demand. Slowly, you undress, the dragonfly pendant glowing softly against your now-bare skin. An overwhelming sense of submission courses through you, leaving you vulnerable and exposed in front of the imposing figure of Ryomen Sukuna.

He watches you intently, his eyes never leaving your form. He steps closer, the heat of his body enveloping you, and you can't help but shudder, a mix of fear and desire coursing through you. "Turn around," he instructs, his voice a seductive purr. You obey without question, presenting your bare back to him.

His skilled hands move over your skin, tracing patterns that send shivers down your spine. "You are mine now," he whispers, his voice thick with desire.

He gives a searing kiss between your shoulder blades, his touch dominant and undeniably passionate. Every stroke of his hands, every caress of his lips, is a reminder of your new reality - one governed by his desires and his will alone.

Underneath his command, you find yourself responding in kind, your body betraying the fear that once held you in its grasp.

Ryomen Sukuna gently places you on the silken bed, his massive form towering over you. Your body trembles under the weight of his gaze, and his four arms wrap around you, holding you tightly, securely. The sensation is both terrifying and exciting, your heart racing in tandem with your growing arousal.

Slowly, he begins to explore your body, his fingers probing your core. You arch your back, torn between pain and pleasure.

"My, you're tight," he murmurs, his fingers sliding in and out of you with practiced ease. "Such a shame. You need to learn to relax for me."

Each thrust sends shockwaves of sensation through your body, the dragonfly pendant glowing with each movement. You moan softly, unable to deny the pleasure intermingling with your fear. "Please, Lord Sukuna," you whisper, the words slipping past your lips without conscious thought.

"Please, what?" He asks, his fingers continuing their rhythmic dance inside you. His voice is deep and velvety, wrapping around your senses like a warm blanket.

"Make love to me, please," you beg, your voice barely steady. There's a strange vulnerability in your plea, a stark contrast to the defiance he once faced.

Ryomen Sukuna's smirk grows wider, his eyes shining with triumph. "I have been waiting for this moment." he confirms, his fingers pausing briefly before he removes them from your body.

As Ryomen Sukuna leans in to kiss you, his enormous tongue darts out from his abdominal mouth, tracing a path to your clit. The sensation is unlike anything you've experienced before, sending jolts of electricity through your entire body. You gasp, your mind reeling with a mix of pleasure and confusion.

His tongue laps at your sensitive flesh, eliciting a moan from deep within your core. Simultaneously, his lips meet yours in a searing kiss, his tongue invading your mouth with the same boldness. His four hands roam freely, exploring every inch of your trembling body.

"You taste divine," he growls against your lips, his tongue from abdomen continues its assault on your clit.

One of his four arms reaches down to your core, thrusting inside with surprising ease. The sudden invasion triggers a response, your body arching off the bed in a fierce orgasm. Pleasure rips through you, a tidal wave of release that leaves you breathless and panting.

Breath still ragged from your climax, you watch in awe as Ryomen Sukuna discards his garments, revealing not one, but two erect phalluses. Shock momentarily paralyzes you, but his command snaps you out of it. Nervously, you position yourself between his legs, your hands trembling as you reach out to touch the unfamiliar appendages.

Your tongue darts out, hesitantly exploring one of his erect members. Your inexperience is evident, but he seems content to guide you. "That's right," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "Show me how eager you are to serve me."

You obey, your skill improving with each passing second. You alternate between his two phalluses, each one throbbing under your touch. His hands thread through your hair, guiding you as he mutters praises under his breath, his grip firm but gentle on your scalp. Your lips wrap around one of his member, your cheeks hollowing as you take him deeper. A strange sense washes over you, realizing he's taken complete control of this encounter.

Ryomen Sukuna groans, his hips bucking slightly under your ministrations. "So eager to please your master, aren't you?" he taunts.

"Mhm," you mumble around his member, your voice muffled by the flesh filling your mouth. The dragonfly pendant glows fiercely at your chest, a constant reminder of your submission. "Whatever you want, Lord Sukuna."

His laughter fills the room, a deep, rolling sound that vibrates through the air. "Delightful. Just remember, you belong to me now."

You continue to service him, your body responding to his every command, every thrust of his hips.

Ryomen Sukuna's laughter dies down, replaced by a growl of satisfaction as he pushes your head back. With an effortless strength, he picks you up with his four hands, aligning one of his hardened members with your entrance. In one swift motion, he pushes inside you, filling you to the brim.

You cry out, the sensation intense and overwhelming. Your walls stretch to accommodate his size, toes curling and head resting on his broad chest.

Ryomen Sukuna grins down at you, clearly pleased with your tightness. He responds by pounding into you with brutal intensity, each thrust driving deeper into your core.

"Tight little thing," he mutters, his voice guttural with lust. "Perfect for my needs."

Suddenly, Ryomen Sukuna notices the dragonfly pendant is missing from around your neck, but your face remains submissive. Confused, he slows down his movements, searching your face for any trace of rebellion. But there's none; only submissive yearning stares back at him.

"P-please lord, d-don't stop, i-i am so close.."

His lips curl up to a grin, his eyes narrow, studying you closely. "Is that so?" He resumes his thrusts, watching your reaction carefully. Your face contorts with pleasure, your body responding to his every stroke.

Without warning, Ryomen Sukuna pulls out of you, urging you onto your knees. You comply instantly, your body quivering with anticipation. He positions himself behind you, entering you from behind with renewed vigor.

The difference in angle sends waves of pleasure cascading through you. Each thrust strikes a new nerve, bringing you closer to the edge. You moan, your body begging for release.

Just as you start to crest, he stops with his thrusts keeping his member deep inside you, leaving you panting and desperate. "Patience," he growls, wetting his fingers with his saliva.

Your heart races, knowing what comes next. He inserts his wet digit into your tight rear, stretching you in a whole new way. You gasp, the sensation overwhelming. "P-please" you stammer, but it comes out more like a plea than protest.

Ryomen Sukuna chuckles darkly, his fingers working in concert with his cock. "Relax, little one. This will make you sing."

The added pressure forces you to focus solely on the sensations engulfing you. You breathe deeply, trying to accommodate his digits. His laughter echoes in the room, a cruel counterpoint to your mounting frustration. His other member pulses, impatient and ready to join the fray.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he withdraws his fingers, coated in evidence of your readiness. You tremble, anticipation building to a fever pitch.

In one swift motion, he introduces the second shaft inside you, stretching you beyond belief. Tears prick at your eyes, a mix of pleasure and pain washing over you, but you don't resist, your body listening to him.

As both of his members work inside you, his four hands come into play. Two grip your hips firmly, guiding his thrusts while the others explore your body. His mouth forms from his other pair of arms, closing over your breast. The sensation is unlike anything you've ever experienced.

His suckling mouths formed from his hands tug gently at your nipples, sending sparks of pleasure throughout your body.

"Oh gods, yes!" You exclaim, surrendering to the sensation. His dual attention, the incredible fullness inside you, overwhelms you.

"That's right," he croons, his voice deep and sultry. "Take it all, show me how much you enjoy being filled."

Two of his hands reluctantly leave your breasts, giving them a tight squeeze before retreating. You whimper, feeling deprived even though you remain filled to the brim. It's almost too much, his dual penetration combined with his previous attentions.

Then, one of his hands drifts lower, touching your clit with feather-light touches. The other wraps around your throat, cutting off your air.

"N-no, wait...!" You choke out, struggling for breath.

"Quiet," he growls.

Without warning, his tongue emerges from his hand currently stroking your clit. It dances across your nerve bundle with expert precision, pushing you closer to the precipice. At the same time, the other hand leaves hickeys on your exposed neck, marking you as his own.

You gasp, the combination of sensations finally proving too much. Your body convulses, your orgasm soon going to occur.

As your orgasm builds, Ryomen Sukuna leans in close, his voice a seductive rumble against your ear. "I found your weakness," he whispers, his abdomen's mouth tracing lines along your spine. "Tell me you accept me as your husband."

You shiver, the combination of his words and actions overwhelming. His thrusting never stops, pushing you higher and higher.

"Lord Sukuna..." you manage, your voice breathy.

"Still a stubborn one, aren't you?" he chuckles, his pace increasing.

His thrusts become more urgent, matching the rhythm of your impending release. "I said accept me as your husband," he commands, the demand clear in his voice.

You nod, your body shaking from the sheer force of his command. "Yes...my Lord, I accept you as my husband" you admit, surrendering completely.

"Want to bear my child?," he asks, his mouth on his abdomen resuming its licking.

"Y-yes yes yes.. F-fill me, Lord.. I want.. your babies.. hnghnn", you reply, drools dripping from your chin. The thought surging through your body as you shatter, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave.

Ryomen Sukuna matches your release, his own body convulsing as he finds his own climax.

With a final burst of energy, Ryomen Sukuna fills both your holes, his seed spilling hot and thick inside you. The sensation is indescribable, filling you to the brim. As he finishes, his seed trickles down between your legs, coating you in his essence.

His breathing labored, he collapses against you, resting his forehead on your back. You lay there, basking in the afterglow of your shared experience.

His eyes fall upon the dragonfly pendant lying innocently on the floor, and a slow smile spreads across his face. "Well well, look at that."

He lifts you gently, turning you around so you're facing him. Holding the pendant between his fingers, he holds it to your lips. "We don't need this anymore"

Taking the pendant from his fingers and throwing it away you pout angrily at him, "You tricked me."

A wicked gleam enters his eyes, and he pulls you closer, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. "Just wanted you to realize your real feelings towards me. All you needed was a little push."

You pull back, your lips parting slowly. you stare into his eyes, realizing he's right. Your body did submit without the dragonfly pendant at the end. Your feelings towards him are genuine.

"I'm yours, Lord Sukuna."

His grin widens, he is indeed thanking Uraume in his mind, his hands caressing your face tenderly. "That's what I always wanted to hear, love."

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thexsilentxwordsmith · 1 year

Text

Daddy Dom!Simon "Ghost"Riley x Bratty!reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon "Ghost" Riley

Summary: As a new recruit, you should not have the gall to talk back to your superior officer like you do. He's tried it all, trying to work the insubordination out of you, but to no avail. Your antics have really gotten under his skin lately, but is it really because you won't listen and follow orders...or is there something more to it that he can't admit? The way his cock throbs might indicate the latter and what he thinks about as he touches himself might just speak to that as well.

Author's Note: As we wait for the next part of Lieutenant's Whore, have this as a treat! Something I just whipped up quick as I couldn't get the thought out of my mind 😏😘

Word Count: 3.3 k

Warnings:

Part 2:

Fucking hell, what was wrong with him? Something had crawled its way under Ghost’s skin today, sticking with him through to the evening now, and no matter how he tried to push the thoughts into the back of his mind they only seemed to lodge themselves more permanently in the foreground. No distraction or mundane daily task that took even most of his focus could ease the impact of influence on his mood as the thoughts constantly assaulted his mind. Even now as he stood in the bathroom of his private quarters, his anger at would not cease.

The screech of the shower handle turning sounded just beneath the heated phrases being whispered under his breath, the pipes coming to life with the distinct hiss of water as it pelted the floor of the shower. An earlier altercation had Ghost in a goddamn tizzy, his pulse elevated and his heartbeat in his ears as he undressed; perhaps being doused under the steady flow of the water would wash it all away.

“Fucking bloody slag,” he snapped as he pulled each article of clothing off one by one and dropped them onto the cool titled floor around his feet. Even his customary face covering he removed, wrenching it off and up over his head without a care as he was too absorbed in his rage which made everything feel far too binding. “Thinking that she can just speak to me like that. Goddammit, she knows exactly how to push each and every one of my fucking buttons.”

This wasn’t the first time he had encountered this very same problem, though this was the first time he had such a raw, visceral reaction to it. Usually he would let the disrespect go once he was away from the source, but today it just seemed to linger in an unhealthy amount until the Lieutenant could not see straight; his vision was only red.

He had not realized how much his skin was burning until he stepped under the stream of cool water, his chest getting hit first and making him grown at the sudden change in temperature. The soothing liquid rolled down the front of him, snaking its way through the shallow cracks left in his skin by the scars scattered across his pectorals and down his torso, but it did little to calm the fire still raging steadily inside.

The day you showed up on base with the newest set of recruits he knew by the way you unashamedly held his gaze when the others had immediately flinched and did not cower whenever he barked his orders would mean trouble and he hated to be right. Try as he might, there was no getting through your snarky, self-assured cocky attitude and most of his days were spent metaphorically pulling out his hair as no matter how many drills he had you run or sets of pull-ups or push-ups he had you complete, you could not be disciplined into obedience. A bitch like you was not easily broken and why you had not been discharged yet was a mystery; you must be more than worth the trouble.

A bawled fist slammed into the side of the shower, the percussive sound echoing and vibrating off the tight walls. “What the fuck is wrong with her?” he questioned aloud to no one. “Why can’t she just fucking listen, the little cunt? Why does she always have to pull that fucking shit?”

The wetness splashed over to his back as he took a step forward under the shower head, the engorged beads of water slithering their way down the curves of the muscles lining his shoulders and following the path to his ass and on towards his thighs and calves. Both of those bulky hands palmed the wall before him, allowing him to lean his torso forward and get the full length of his back under the water as his head hung limp. Heavy breaths, each one just as laboured as the last, continued even as he counted the water droplets falling down off his back and into the bottom of the shower as a way to ground himself, watching them slowly gather and swirl down the drain.

“I’ve tried it all,” he reassured himself, though even as the words left his lips, he knew that wasn’t entirely true. There was a whisper of a thought that reappeared just now that perhaps illustrated his true feelings about this problem. “Well, not exactly all.”

There was a spark of an idea that had appeared some weeks ago, one that he had not completely allowed himself to delve further into, one that had slunk its shrewd way at the edge of his thoughts. It had caught the cool and collected officer off guard at how his mind had conjured such a filthy concept… or that he did not outright despise that his imagination had led him there.

That exact day it happened he remembered well. The blazing sun and humid atmosphere had led to everyone being on edge, their bad attitudes matching the rising temperatures, and that meant the crude, underhanded remarks and balking that was a part of your usual repartee became even more grating on the Lieutenant’s nerves. With jaw sore from clenching so hard, the anger had finally reached its peak when you had told him to "make you" and with enough fury to make his presence suffocating to anyone within range, he stepped up aggressively into your face for the insubordination. There, standing with mere inches between you, your eyes ablaze with a fury for everything from the weather to the man barking orders before you, it happened.

It very well could have been the proximity of your bodies, the intense, dizzying heat, or the way the sweat around your neck slipped in glistening trails down your chest and caught his bird’s eye view as it nestled between the tops of your breasts. Maybe he had simply lost his goddamn mind due to the weather or the long hours he had been working lately or a random intrusive thought that caught him by surprise; whatever it was he could feel a stirring within the crotch of his pants in a sensation he had never felt towards you. His entire form froze in that moment and he was unable to do anything except stare straight ahead, even though the voice in his head was yelling at him to get it together, he paused long enough that by the smug expression on your face you felt you had gotten the last word and that was dangerous for him. The near two hundred push-ups forced upon you after that went by more easily than he would have liked; it was clear that that euphoric feeling you had from seemingly winning in that battle of wills against him was enough to see you through the strain on your arms and the pounding in your chest from the exertion of your punishment.

It was after that day that Ghost noticed a few strange happenings that only added fuel to the fire that had sparked to life inside him. Had your shirts always been so fucking tight or was it just the way they had always fit across your torso, pulling and straining at your chest as if it could barely contain it? Had your lips always been that juicy looking or were you just staying extra hydrated and he only caught you just after taking a drink so that your mouth mimicked another pair of lips that lay much, much lower down your body? You did not let up on your usual behavior of driving him up the goddamn wall, but did you always stand this close to him, brushing up against him randomly and somehow constantly bumping your plump ass on him whenever you bent over? It was believable as only an accident the first time it happened, but after he had to wonder.

And it only infuriated him more that the longer this went on the more he could not get you out of his head.

“Fucking slag, she probably does that shit on purpose just to screw with my head,” he growled angrily. His spine lengthened as he moved to stand up straighter, wiping the stray beads of water that had fallen into his eyes. The idea that had been born that day crept back into that devious mind of his once again and he chuckled maliciously as he indulged it a little. “If I had it my way, I know exactly how I’d like to make a little princess like her come to heel. She would regret ever trying to get my attention, especially when I fucking give it to her.”

Whenever he thought of you before this, it was with his teeth gritted and his fists balled so tight that his short nails cut into the skin of his palms, so what had changed? What right had his mind to pull this bullshit? Sure, the streamlined curves of your hips visible even through your bulky fatigues and the fullness of your perky tits were enough to draw even a lingering eye from time to time, but that was a far as he had allowed it to go until now. Now his thoughts were constantly on traveling back to those soft lips of yours and how he would kill to see how pretty they’d look wrapped around his cock or how he'd like to take you over his knee and spank that taut bare ass of yours until his handprintnwas fully visible, red and angry against your supple skin. Even the thought of your pussy entered his mind as it would probably be so tight it could barely be able to take all that he had to give. Bitchy girls always had the best equipment.

“I’d stuff that little cunt so good, she’d never fucking disobey me again; make that mouth useful for something else other than swearin at me,” he smirked with a flash of his teeth as he could not stop the progress of his thoughts. “I’d keep her dicked down nice and proper until she’s followin me around like a lost pup beggin for a treat.”

Moving his head back so that his thick neck and pecks were now exposed to the water, he could not stop the onslaught of his imagination from drawing out this thought further. Pandora’s box was now open and there was no shutting that shit down. Ghost closed his eyes as he conjured images of the way he’d drag you to his room and rip you out of your fucking shirt, taking those beautiful, soft breasts into his mouth to bite, lick, and suck at the bright pink nipples that would be stiff as his mouth claimed them. Shite, how velvety they would feel between his lips, how pliable they would give in his teeth. He’d make you undress quickly the rest of the way for him under threat of punishment if you didn't follow orders and drag you to the shower to pull you in with him, your naked body slamming up harshly up against the wall of the shower as he overpowered you with his much larger one. He pictured your bare chest, the water flowing over the crest of your breasts as he picked you up just enough that your legs could wrap themselves around his thick torso to secure you to him before he thrust harshly and buried himself within you. What sounds would you make as he plowed through your petals and into your entrance? Would you whimper piteously as you folded like a good little girl; would you cry and swear out loudly as his girth stretch your core to capacity so that anyone within earshot could hear you taking him?

There was so question that he’d fuck you so good, making your back constantly slip and slide around all the damp surfaces as his overwhelming thrusts pounded into your cunt over and over again with a vigor that would not let up until that burning desire that has been building for weeks could finally be satisfied. A shiver ran up his spine as he imagined your finger nails clawing at his back, leaving read, angry marks as you held on for dear life. How they’d sting as the water washed over them; oh, it would hurt so, so good. The brief fantasy left his hand trembling and had his phallus springing to life with a sudden tightness that made him breathless.

This is how it had been since that day, though he had done everything in his power to not touch himself; if he did he knew that would mean his ruin. But that deep ache throbbing down below just between his legs was more than he could handle anymore and now that he had allowed himself to fantasize about what he could have, there was no getting rid of it expect by taking action.

His large hand moved down past the sparse light brown hair that covered his abdominals as it trailed down his body, the skin was already nice and lubricated from the water running its way down the length of him. Taking his lower lip between his teeth he bit down with a whimper as his long, calloused fingers brushed against the tip of his tender, engorged cock before he was able to take it fully into his grasp.

Goddamn what he would have given in that moment to make that fantasy a reality; he would have sold his soul to Satan himself for the feeling of you clenching down around him right now as his own hand paled in comparison to the fabricated assumptions in his mind.

"Fucking bitch, you’ve put me under your spell," Ghost growled in a raspy whisper, as if insulting you would somehow make his desperate need of you any less pathetic to himself.

Putting pressure in his grip he began to rub his length from base to tip in steady, even strokes. Deep, guttural grunts began to fill the bathroom as that beefy forearm worked itself forward and back over and over again. Goddammit he was so hard and tender it almost hurt to touch.

His mind's eye wandered back to visions of you perched on top of him now in his bed, riding him desperately into the scant bit of plushness he called a mattress, as his greedy hands clasped around your hips to force you to bob up and down on his dick as hard and as fast as he wished. Faster and faster he’d make your body work for him, shoving you as far down onto him as he could until your hips were grinding into one another; his perfect fuck toy. You’d be so out of your mind with evstasy, would you be able to form words? No, you’d only be able to muster a few simple mewls as he hit that perfect little button of pleasure inside you time and time again.

“Got you quiet now, yeah,” he groaned desperately at the vision as he licked his hungry lips. “You like that, princess? So fucking full on my cock you can hardly think straight? Come on now, use your words sweetheart. Tell me how much you like it; you’ve never had a problem speaking up before."

The imagined music of your moans emanating from your open mouth from his cock being buried deep within you made his skin tingle like an electrical current. The drawn out strokes from his hand began to become more sloppy as the images continued to flood their way into his thoughts. Again they wandered to conjure even more depraved things as he pictured himself taking control in the moment, grabbing you around the throat and flipping you on your back as he pinned your arms up above your head. He’d hold secure those slender wrists together with just one of his large hands so that he could have free reign to do whatever he wished without your interference. There would not be a single piece of flesh that did not know how he felt.

Ghost’s pace again quicken. “A-ah, fuck….!” he hissed. He was certain you had probably had guys before him, it was obvious a woman like you knew what she wanted, but there would absolutely be no one after; he’d make sure of that by leaving his mark anywhere he thought someone who try to touch.

His breathing faltered along with his strokes as he imagined hurriedly switching positions so that he would not have to pull out for long, propping your legs up on those broad shoulders so that he could push deeper into you down to the very end of his shaft until there was nothing left to give. Oh, the way he knew you would whine and buck against him as he bottomed out inside of you, but there would be no backing out now. That cunt now belonged to him and only him as if it had 'Property of Simon' tattooed across it.

Ghost had to swallow the saliva in his mouth that had gathered from that delicious bit of imagery. “Take it, take it all, sweetheart,” he panted. “Every last goddamn inch like the filthy fucking slag you are. That's it.”

You’d be whimpering, begging him to stop as the tears gathered in the corner of your eyes from the over-stimulation being almost to much to bear. So full, you’d be far too full with him and yet to really stop would be catastrophic as that delicious pressure setting you on a one way course directly towards your immediate release would end and that would be a far worse crime. He knew you wouldn’t want him to do anything except keep the rhythm steady and that is exactly what he intended to do, though he would wipe away a few of those stray droplet’s with his thumb as he continued to plow you; he was a gentlemen at his core after all.

“Look beautiful like this, luv,” he groaned under his breath. “On your back getting absolutely wrecked by me. Cry all you like, you know you can't get enough.”

Again he pounded his free fist into the side of the shower wall, this time from being so close to blowing that he could taste it in the back of his throat. More aggressively he yanked at his cock, the wet, sloppy sounds from skin working over moistened skin were loud and distinct over the sound of the running water from the shower head. That familiar fire was right there in the pit of his stomach as he envisioned the way you’d bear down on him as you came, fluttering around his cock as your orgasm overtook you in a violent burst that threatened to rip you apart.

“That’s it baby, that’s…it,” he stumbled over his words. It was there, right there; just a bit more and he’d be painting the walls.

The envisioned sound of your voice crying out his name in the throws of ecstasy was all he needed to finally finish with a bang. He grunted as the cheeks of his toned ass clenched while he milked every last fucking bit of cum that he could from himself. Knees began wobbling as they nearly buckled out from under him as the intensity of his release took all his strength and he had to brace his forearm against the wall to stop from slipping as the stroking of his hand slowed until it came to a stop. That arm propped up the exhausted mess of a hulking man as he breathed through his orgasm, wanting to ride out every last second he could.

The fruit of his endeavors were rinsed down into the bottom of the shower and were quickly whisked away, removing any evidence of the filthy thoughts that had plagued him minutes before, though their ghost still lingered in the back of his mind as if he had just awoken from a very good dream. There was a part of him that wished that all his desires for you had been sucked down the drain along with his cum, as this was certain to become am issue in a short amount of time, but he knew he would not be that lucky.

He craved you in a most unholy way and that meant at some point this little problem was going to come to a head. There was no telling what would happen to him when he saw you next now that he had entertained the full extent of his fantasies, but one thing he did know was that if there was a way to have you just as he wanted, he would find it...and God fucking help you when he did.

#simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost x reader #simin ghost riley #simon ghost x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mwii

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peggyao3 · 3 months

Text

Night Crawler - Pt. 1

PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Reader / can be read as OC

SUMMARY: Feyd-Rautha welcomes a nocturnal visitor in his chambers, who is plagued by the symptoms of her artificially induced condition.

WORD COUNT: 3,558

TAGS: 18+, smut, lactation kink 🍼‼️, pseudo pregnancy, breastfeeding (no baby involved only a big sexy egg man), she/her reader, AFAB reader, ambiguous relationship status, non-consenting drug use, dark undertones, implied violence, stockholm syndrome-ish, dubious consent, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering

Reposted from my Ao3 💕| Masterlist under construction ⚠️

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Part 1 ↓, Part 2, Part 3

The nights on Giedi Prime are inky black, not midnight blue like on her home world. Inky black are also the sharp-edged pillars that frame the hallway. Jagged polymer giants that intersect the row of windows like alien artifacts. The view outside is not much better. Where one might expect palace gardens are only industrial plants that stretch past the horizon. They are the only source of light.

This corridor is solely occupied by the na-Baron. She has been here many times. But never alone. The corridor where she resides is not far away, yet the path seems to stretch on forever, the Harkonnen palace a hostile monster that pierces her marrow and bone with every barefooted step on cold, black tiles.

She hates this so much. Tonight will be her personal disgrace. That she goes to him willingly, and in the middle of the night no less, is a first.

Though willingly is a farfetched word. No servant has reacted to her request for some pain relief remedy, mumbled then shouted into the transmitter panel in the wall of her chamber. It could be because she had uttered a wrong word in the afternoon or he didn’t like the way she held her fork and knife at dinner. It is hard to tell with Feyd-Rautha.

What is also not under her influence is the chemical cocktail in her veins that tricks her body into believing something has taken root in her womb. The symptoms are manifold, but what torments her most is how her breasts have grown bigger and heavier with milk that no one drinks.

At first glance one might think the fine lines that frame her enlarged breasts are stretch marks, but many of them are scars, placed by an enraptured Feyd-Rautha who loves to lap up the crimson beads, from base to peak. Sometimes his mouth and teeth ghost over her pert nipples.

The na-Baron seems to find sick enjoyment in her condition, fantasizing about the idea without the commitment. It is still better than being forced to carry the his real spawn.

The corridor ends in a dead end and she raises her hand, knocks on the door with cold knuckles. “My Lord?” Her warm breath is a ghost swallowed by the hallway.

There is no sound to be heard, nothing moves aside from the rise and fall of her ribcage. She swallows her pride and knocks again.

A mechanism whirrs and the door slides open. Out comes Feyd with a knife. That much was to be expected, but she still gasps when the icy edge of the blade finds her throat. The na-Baron’s frown dissolves into surprise when he recognizes her. Her throat is one of the few he wouldn’t slit right away for disturbing him.

“Feyd-!” She gasps and flinches away from the blade. Its tip tickles her jaws.

He was asleep, she realizes and is somehow surprised. The slight touch of puffiness around sharp eyes gives him away. She has never seen him sleep and she believes no one has, except for his own mother perhaps, who is now dead by matricide. This pinch of vulnerability on Feyd-Rautha’s face makes her heart stutter, as she hadn’t expected to wrest a triumph from this wretched night.

“What do you want, night crawler?" He sheathes the knife and drags the tip of a finger down her throat instead, to her collarbones, making a shiver roll down her spine. She prefers the knife.

“I am hurting, my Lord.” She stares straight ahead at Feyd's throat while gesturing at her breasts, avoiding his face. Tonight she can't stand to see the sickly joy that lights up his eyes whenever she's in pain. “They are… Too full, or so it feels.” Her bosom sits heavily in the snug night gown, warm and aching.

“Oh. Do they hurt badly?” Feyd wants to hear a yes. Fatigue and ire about being woken are gone now and he stares at her cleavage. The scars he made stare back at him.

“Would I come to you if they weren’t?” She spits. Feyd-Rautha smiles eerily and in the black of the night, his maws look like they possess no teeth.

“Come inside then.” He steps aside, clearing the passage into his chambers. The hairs in the nape of her neck prickle.

“Actually… “ She takes a step back. Even the alien pillars at her back emit more warmth than Feyd's den. “I only need you to call a servant for me. My panel seems to be broken. I’m sorry to have woken you, but I can get no rest like this. And I would…” She cringes. “I would like to be well-rested for whatever my Lord has in store for me tomorrow.” There is always something.

“Is that so?” Something about his voice reminds her of stepping on wet gravel. “You already woke me. No need to wake a servant now.” A hint of a smile creeps over his visage, a threat in one eye, glee in the other as he holds out his hand.

She chooses not to take it, so she can retain some dignity while entering his bed chambers. The door whirrs shut at her back and she knows she won’t be able to exit until he places his hand on a hidden panel. Slowly she walks into the center of the bleak room, walls made of polished stone, steps in the back leading down to a basin that is sunken into the floor. A double bed is at the right hand side and the ruffled sheets are the only sign that something lives in this room.

Feyd-Rautha moves like a beast of the night. She feels his breath on her neck before she hears his footsteps. Wiry arms circle her from behind and pull her against his chest. He is the warmest thing in the room, but as long as she isn’t freezing to death she prefers not to throw herself into an embrace that can warm her one second and scorch her the next. He kisses her neck and softly slides the straps of her nightgown down her shoulders.

Assuming Feyd’s intentions are as they most often are, she shuffles away and pulls the straps back up, trying to sound stern. “F-Feyd-Rautha, I don't know what you think you can do about my predicament, but I-”

“Sit on the bed with me.” His voice cuts the air like a Fremen crysknife. He is going to cut her breasts open to drain the milk, she thinks when she sits on Feyd's bed. The sheets are still warm.

From the corner of her eye, she sees him approaching and notices the wrinkles in his sleep shirt. Such everyday imperfections look bizarre on a man so atrocious. His bare feet pat on the tiles now and fabric rustles when he climbs on the bed. He sits and leans against the sleek headboard, a single pillow in his back and waits.

“Come.” Reluctantly she turns, gathers her nightgown skirt and scoots closer towards him. Too slow for his liking. His pale fingers brush against her throat. “Why aren’t you wearing your collar?”

“I don’t wear it to sleep!” She spits. “You’d know that if you ever-” Slept with me. Cold sweat breaks out under her armpits.

Feyd’s head tilts to the side, disgusting curiosity in his eyes. He pulls her in his lap, thighs on either side of his hips and then pulls down her night gown with one harsh tug so her right breast pops free. Even the soft scrape of fabric over her nipple makes her whimper and she hisses at him to be gentle.

Seated in his lap, her chest is roughly at Feyd’s face level. At first, she thinks he is only going to ogle the plump shape of her, taking sick pleasure in her visible pain as a reimbursement for disturbing him at night. But then his mouth starts ghosting over her and a trail of nips and feathery kisses leads him to the apex of her breast. One hand curls under the taut flesh and lifts it carefully.

Oh. Now she understands.

How grotesque. How humiliating. She should have expected nothing less.

With horror she watches his plush lips close around the nub. Dark eyes lift to scrutinize her face and when she utters no complaints (although God knows they’re clawing at her throat, they just can’t make it past the lump inside), Feyd closes his eyes.

Her face is scrunched, nails digging into Feyd's shoulders when he creates suction, hesitant at first but greedier as soon as the first drop of white milk decorates his black tongue. She cringes, thighs flexing around his which encourages him to cling to her hip with his free hand.

The sensation repels her at first, alien and encroaching, as if a parasite was latched onto her teat. She has never nursed anyone before. It takes her fear-conditioned mind several moments to realize no harm comes from Feyd’s mouth this time. He only suckles on her breast and his cock twitches against her core, which she ignores. In the chamber’s nocturnal silence, she hears him quietly gulp and with each moment, the torturous pressure in her breast abates. A tear almost slips down her cheek, that’s how thankful she is, even if Feyd-Rautha only helps her for his own pleasure.

Minutes pass and she almost grows used to the sensation, the pressure of his tongue against the underside of her nipple and the occasional scrape of teeth. The tender flesh however is starting to ache, not used to such a long assault of his mouth.

“That's e-enough, it h-hurts now.”

Feyd growls and his hairless brows twitch over closed eyes. He squeezes her breast, mouth latched over her nipple. Greedily, he suckles, ignoring her wincing. Shivering, she realizes that trying to take away his toy from him will always spark ire, so she gently scrapes her nails over his scalp instead until his ravenous mouth relaxes and strangely, she relaxes too.

“You can have the other one instead, okay?”

That works. His mouth slides over to her left breast, tongue swirling around the nipple before his lips close around it. He suckles more gently now and the relief makes her moan this time, spine arching against his face as milk flows into his mouth.

“Thank you, this is… So good. “

Feyd's hand still cups her right breast, as if scared she or anyone would steal it from him if left unattended. A bead of milk still clings to the nipple. With a spark of hope she wonders if Feyd-Rautha would ever be willing to share her breasts with an heir.

No, she sees him throttling his own spawn, just so he can have everything for himself.

In the dead of night, a sly little smile tugs on her mouth and she encouragingly wraps her arms around Feyd's neck, hugging him close. Willingly, he sinks into her chest, drinking with abandon. “Keep drinking,” she hums.

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, the na-Baron, the gladiator, is temporarily docile at her bosom.

The silent victory makes heat grow in her belly as pressure is released from her breasts. She shuffles against his lap and the hardness that rests against his belly. Feyd's hand squeezes her hip, nudging her closer. While he drinks, the other pale hand lightly fondles her right breast, catching the drop of milk with an unusually gentle index finger.

Her spine arches and her hips curl against his pelvis, head and hair falling backwards. The cool of the chamber is now pleasant on her heated skin.

“Feyd, please…” A quiet sigh, nearly swallowed by the midnight hour. Her core curiously grinds against his length.

He seems to know better what she pleads for than she does. The hand on her hip sifts through the layers of silky gown to get to where he needs, finding her flesh unobscured by undergarments. Slick essence coats her gown where she had sat and Feyd’s hand stutters when his knuckles brush through the wetness on the silk.

Instantly, her cunt bucks against his fingers and Feyd's eyes snap wide open. His digits glide through her folds, stunned to find them so wet and hot. Her entrance weeps and yields so easily when he prods lightly with two fingers.

“Don't say anything, just-” She shakes her head, realizing Feyd hasn’t said anything at all since he discovered the milk from her breasts for himself. Fascinated, he gazes up at her from coal-black eyes, pouty lips puckered around her nipple still when two calloused fingers sink into her cunt. Languidly, he thrusts, finding her walls willing and soft to the touch. She meets each thrust, sighing as she brings her hips up and down.

Looking down at Feyd’s pale skull latched to her breast, she also looks at the scars that paint them. They taunt her now.

‘Does he make you wet now?’ They seem to ask. ‘Has he finally cut you into submission, into the shape he wants?’

She doesn't feel overly submissive right now, however. The pace of her hips quickens, as does that of his fingers. Her nails dig into his scalp when a third finger eases into her cunt without her request. The stretch makes her moan and her hips needily rut against Feyd’s hand.

Even if she is not truly in power, she can at least pretend she is.

“Take yourself out of your pants!”

Determinedly, she sits up straight and leans back, breasts feeling almost light now, compared to before. Her nipple slips out of Feyd’s mouth and he gives it a parting gift, sharp teeth nipping at the tender bud. Probably the punishment for her bold tone. Still, she grows nearly euphoric when he does as she says, sliding his trousers down to his mid thighs, so his daunting cock comes to rest against his navel. It doesn’t daunt her today.

She shuffles and pulls the silky layers of her nightgown away, so her pelvis can rest on the smooth, milky expanse of Feyd’s hairless thighs. His balls rest hotly against her weeping cunt until she raises her hips and kneels, grabbing Feyd’s cock to line him up with her entrance. The size of him makes the angle awkward and she has to lean forward to try and shuffle the thick head between her folds, one hand wrapped around the shaft.

“You can ask for help, you know.” Feyd chuckles, fingers gliding over her thighs under the gown. She hisses and resists the urge to tell him to shut his mouth, lest he ruins the night. It had been so nice without the talk of his foul tongue. Finally, she has him angled like she needs him and her entrance yields for his head.

Feyd knows she struggles to take him, despite the preparation. Her soft cunt stretches around his obscene length and she tries to be strong, play it tough, so her whines can’t give away the challenge it still is for her to be a fitting sheathe for his cock. Amused, he watches her toil away in his lap, slowly sinking down, then hissing and jerking back up. He gives her the time she needs, curiously watching her face shift into triumph when their pelvises come flush.

Up and down she goes, sighing and moaning and her grimace slowly relaxes as she grows accustomed to his cock. Feyd-Rautha sinks into his pillow, sliding down the headboard as his figure becomes more and more horizontal. Her breasts are out of reach now, but he still marvels at the marks and redness left by his mouth. His jaws flex. He already misses the taste of her milk. Tomorrow he will instruct the authorized doctors to tweak the formula of her injections, so she will produce more.

Unbeknownst of his thoughts but well aware of his wolfish gaze on her tits, she rides him as she pleases, hands pushing up his sleepshirt so she can grope his pale torso, leaving angry red marks on his belly and on the small dent between his pectorals.

Her shoulders roll forward and her thighs hurt a little from lifting herself so repeatedly, but she tirelessly grinds against his pelvis, chasing the pleasure sparked by power that kindles in her belly before it’ll inevitably go out by something he says or does. If he had pubic hair, perhaps it would be easier to get some friction against her clit. She is missing that extra stimulation to quite push herself over the edge.

Feyd’s hands on her hips have been docile, but the moment she falters, he strikes. Her weak knees buckle when his thumb finds her clit and her wrists are gathered in his other hand.

“I… No!” She stubbornly pleads, the figment of control wrenched out of her grasp. Not even by his hands that overtake her body, but by the mean midnight-smile that decorates his face.

“That’s alright,” he coos sweetly. No one likes gravel mixed with honey.

Hot tears gather in her eyes when she fights weakly against his grasp but still moans from the pressure of his cock. She wants to tell him that nothing is alright. It’s not alright that she can’t even fuck herself to completion without his help. It’s not alright that her legs give out because of the medication he’s put her on to induce false pregnancy. It’s not alright that her tits hurt and she gets sick in the mornings and It’s definitely not alright that he’s taking her little victory away from her.

She is close to tears but doesn’t start crying. Feyd’s hips dictate the rhythm, driving up into her cunt so she no longer rides him, she only helplessly sits as he fucks her. And to her dismay, it feels better. He just does it better.

The pressure of his thumb on her clit is just right, as are the short, hard thrusts against her cervix.

This whole night still counts as a victory, she reminds herself as her head falls back and a climax rolls through her body, walls fluttering around her tormentor’s cock while he pours sweet, gravelly honey in her ears. It’s the softest he’s ever been with her.

Feyd prolongs her climax, drawing tight little circles on her clit so her walls keep milking him until he has spilled his seed harmlessly against the entrance to her womb. A throaty groan rumbles in his chest and then the chamber falls silent.

His cock twitches and relaxes against her walls while his thumb still lazily plays with her clit. Uneasily, she shifts in his lap and her squirming draws wet noises from their conjoined pelvises.

“Stop smiling,” she demands.

“I can't.” If only his smile was prettier. Feyd releases her wrists and his thumb abandons her overstimulated clit and ghosts over her abdomen, the bunched gown, her plump breasts. A blush follows his trace as he presses into the dip between her clavicles and then brushes over her throat, perhaps still mourning the absence of her collar.

“I… I need to go to the bathroom.”

Abruptly, Feyd sits up and swings his legs over the edge, catching her before she can fall backwards off his lap. He turns his head and nips at the hand that had instinctively latched onto his shoulder. “Don't be long.”

She denies him the satisfaction of seeing her sway and buckle when she slips off his cock. It smacks against his abdomen and black seed sullies his pale stomach and shirt. Feyd doesn't mind, but if she insists on getting cleaned up, she shall.

For a moment she fears he will follow her, just to make sure she doesn't flush herself down the drain to escape him, but he remains docilely on the bed.

She just barely makes it to the bathroom before the thick rivulet of cum that rolls down her leg reaches the ankle and stains the floor. Awkwardly, she cleans herself with cold water from the sink and paper towels, then hovers over the toilet and waits until most of Feyd's release has exited her body. Some of it still stubbornly clings to her womb, she's certain.

For a moment, she regards her reflection in the mirror, little more than a shadow in the dark of night, but even now she sees the shape of her hard nipples under the silk. She feels obliged to clean the cum stain on the floor, even though that's a task for the maids.

Once she comes back out, she almost expects a knife against her throat - foreplay for what Feyd-Rautha might consider the real fun, but the na-Baron's breath chimes calmly and steadily from the bed. Could it be?

Almost as silent as a beast of the night, she slinks to the door, knowing it probably won't budge for her but it's worth a try.

“Where are you going, night crawler? Come here.”

He lifts the covers and wordlessly she resigns and climbs underneath, like a bird into an alligator’s open maws, hoping she will be useful long enough and her wings not broken when the maws snap shut.

Feyd-Rautha sleeps on her bosom that night and she cries for a good minute while caressing his scalp. Why does every triumph, no matter if big or small, always come at the cost of feeling dirty?

[If you enjoyed this fanfiction, a comment would mean the world to me! <33]

#feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd #feyd x reader #feyd x you #house harkonnen #feyd smut #dune part 2 #dune part two #dune fanfiction #dune #austin butler #peggysuave fanfics #feyd x oc

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shhhsecretsideblog · 2 months

Note

Hi, i hope you don't mind if i request to combine 2 prompts in one scenario.

8. "There's so much pressure..."

12. "Come on, you'll be fine. First labour's take ages.

Scenario: a pregnant woman got kidnapped by her obsessive ex-boyfriend, went into labor and begged him to take her to the hospital because she can't be having the baby in his basement, but he refused. Go as wild and dark as you want.

Thanks 💌

Thanks for the request anon, this was delicious to write. Only prompt no.8 has been included as the other didn’t naturally fit in to wherever the hell this story went. I swear I have no control, these stories take on a life of their own. You said go wild and dark, so… 😈 Trigger warnings; kidnapping, vomit, blood, violence, mental instability, death (not mum or bubs dw), oh and of course fpreg & birth. Hope you like it

Chained

Libby’s eyes fluttered open. It took a moment for her vision to focus but when it did she realised nothing was familiar. The room was dimly lit, no natural light source, only a singular light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Dark grey bricks formed each of the four walls and the floor below was concrete and rough. She was lying down, on old discoloured bedding on a rickety metal bed. Where the hell was she?! She tried to push herself upright, but she discovered one arm could not be moved. It was handcuffed to the bed!

“What the hell…” Libby muttered.

“Ah… you’re awake.” Came a voice from the shadows.

Stepping into the light Libby saw a man walk towards her. It was Scott, her ex boyfriend. He looked awful. She’d not seen him since they broke up 18 months ago. His hair had grown, now matted and unkept, dark circles hung beneath his eyes and his usually clean shaven chin now sported a severe and dishelved five o’clock shadow.

“…Scott? Where… where am I?” She asked confused and still a little bit groggy.

“You’re at home darling. I rescued you.”

Libby’s brain whirled into overdrive. She remembered going to a midwife appointment, it was her final check up before her due date, she finished the appointment and headed back to her car. She had stopped just before opening the door, hearing something behind her, and then…. everything went black.

“Rescued me?! From what?” Libby asked, managing to push herself to a sitting position with her one free hand.

“From making a mistake. Did you really think you could keep me away from my baby?” Scott drawled, his eyes staring hungrily at her pregnant stomach.

“What the fuck are you talking about? We broke up, I moved on. This isn’t your baby!”

Libby’s outburst was rewarded by a forceful smack across the face. The distinctive metallic taste of blood soon filled her mouth. She was shocked into silence.

“We were great together! We were happy; we were going to get married, have a family, and then… Brendon came along. Poisoning our relationship, turning you against me, stealing you for himself. No! I won’t let him take this away. I’ve brought you home baby… so we can be together.” Scott’s hand touched her bump and his eyes widened in glee. “Where we can be a family.”

This man was insane, Libby thought, realising the true danger of this situation. It was one thing having an ex that still held a candle towards you, but this was way beyond that. She knew Scott hadn’t taken the break up well, but since the split he’d clearly disappeared into a realm of utter delusion. The baby in her womb shifted, feeling the fear of its mother. Scott’s mouth twitched into an uncomfortable grin, feeling the child move. Libby daren’t say anything, it was clear he was unstable and there was no telling what might set him off.

“Rest up sweetie. I’ll get you some food, you must be hungry. Eating for two and all that.” Scott said cheerfully, removing his hand from her stomach and disappearing upstairs.

Libby looked down at her stomach and her handcuffed wrist. She didn’t feel hungry at all. Only nauseous.

~•~

Scott returned and brought her food. Libby didn’t say anything, didn’t move, too scared of accidentally provoking him. He left the tray of sandwiches and crisps on the side table next to the bed and disappeared upstairs, offering a firm “Eat” before he went.

Her memories had returned as she gradually came around from whatever drug Scott had administered. Brendon and Libby had decided to have a little trip away this weekend before the baby came. A baby-moon as they say. They’d told all their friends and family they’d be out of town and without signal for a few days, but this morning Brendon called to say he had a work emergency and they’d have to cancel. That was fine, Libby would just go visit her parents instead. Only she never got a chance to call her parents after the midwife appointment. Everyone thought her and Brendon were away, and Brendon thought she was at her parents - no one would realise she’d been kidnapped.

Her stomach rolled with fear. She needed to think, find a way out of here. Wherever “here” was…. Where the fuck had Scott taken her? She didn’t recognise the room, it could be anywhere. She looked over at the plate of food and her heart sank. She recognised the crockery - this was his family’s cabin, in the middle of the woods.

~•~

Days. She’d been there days. Her family and Brendon would hopefully know she was missing by now. But they’d never find her here.

Scott continued to visit, to bring her food, to talk the baby in her womb. He’d offered to bathe her once, disgusted by the thought she refused. When he tried to get more forceful, hitting her again, she faked practice labour pains and he thankfully left her alone to rest.

She barely spoke to him anymore, too fearful to say the wrong thing again, of which she had learnt the hard way. She tried once to play along with his delusion, that he had “rescued” her from Brendon and now they could be a family. Believing her, Scott eventually unlocked the handcuffs, but when she made a break for it towards the stairs of the basement Scott went ballistic. They got into a fight; she kicked and screamed and hit, but he was stronger and in the carnage she fell forward against the wooden stairs she was trying to climb.

Scott was stricter with the handcuffs after that. Libby swore to herself not to try it again for fear of what might happen to the baby if she fell again.

She had been feeling cramps ever since the fall. They weren’t too bad or debilitating, thankfully she wasn’t bleeding which Libby hoped was a good sign and that her baby was okay. The fall was a brutal reminder of the precious cargo she was carrying and she had to be careful.

The next night Libby was awoken by a forceful cramp rolling through her middle, much worse than any of the others she had felt. Curling round her stomach she breathed heavily through the wave until it passed, and she promptly fell back asleep.

It happened again shortly after, pulling her from her slumber and waking every cell of her body as it peaked, like a coil twisting tighter and tighter. She pushed herself up to sit on the bed. The room was pitch black - Scott controlled the lights and was the only way she knew if it was day or night. She rubbed the aching cramp rolling across her tightened belly with one hand, the other remaining chained to the bedpost. She wished she could move, to walk it off, but with the handcuffs and the darkness she had little options. Instead she got on her hands and knees and rocked steadily through the pain.

“Please be practice contractions…” she whispered to herself. “You can’t come now baby, you’re safe in there. Wait until we get outta here okay?”

The cramp eventually eased and after a few minutes waiting for the next, Libby let herself sink sideways back onto the bed. The baby had got the message, it was just practice pains, she thought to herself as she drifted back off to sleep.

~•~

The light to the basement flickered to life followed by the familiar stomping of feet on wooden steps.

“Morning sweetheart. How’s the mother of my child today?” Scott said in such a cheerful caring tone it caused a shiver to roll up Libby’s spine.

She glared at him from the bed, lying down under the covers half asleep and curled around her bump.

“Still not talking to me eh? Oh well. It won’t be long before I have a son or daughter to talk to.” Scott drawled, as he placed a cup of water and slice of toast onto the bedside table.

Another cramp squeezed her belly and Libby sucked in a breath, hissing through her teeth. She could feel her stomach hardening beneath her fingers as the practice contraction squeezed.

“Honey, are you alright?” Scott’s eyes pinched in cautious concern.

“Just a kick.” Libby said, schooling her face back to a neutral expression.

“Excited to meet their daddy no doubt.” He gleefully said making Libby feel sick.

This baby is NOT yours! She cried in her head.

“Get up and have some breakfast. I’ve got some things to show you today.” Scott said, offering a hand to help her up.

Libby ignored his hand and pushed herself upright. “What things?”

“All in good time my dear. It’s a surprise.” And with that he disappeared back upstairs with a gallop.

She could hear banging and thumping above her and wondered what on earth he was doing. Her stomach growled and she reluctantly nibbled on the toast that was provided. After eating she was left solely with her thoughts and the noises from upstairs. Plus the occasional cramps that continued to plague her. Sitting down became too frustrating and she managed to get herself to standing right beside the bed. Her arm was pulled uncomfortably far forward by the handcuffs, but at least it relieved the pressure in her hips.

The baby felt so low, like it was grinding on her pelvis. But she did feel like her breathing was better now. Libby tried to focus only on the positives and did not dwell enough to realise this meant the baby had dropped into position for birth.

She stayed standing as long as she could beside the bed, riding out the braxton hicks and swaying her hips side to side, but eventually her legs ached from the awkward position so she return to sit on the bed.

The practice contractions continued to wash over her whilst Scott was banging away upstairs. Libby was starting to get hot and sweaty and could barely sit still through them. She found herself biting her lips and humming through them, trying to keep the noise to a minimum. She didn’t want to attract Scott’s attention. She ended up back on all fours on the bed, one hand awkwardly attached to the bed while she rocked forwards and back through the rising waves. It was getting harder and harder to stay silent through these pains and it was getting more and more difficult to convince herself these were only practice contractions.

“Ohhhh… we had a deal baby. You have to s-stay in there…. It’s not s-safe…” Libby moaned quietly to her child, the pressure in her hips mounting with every contraction.

The sounds of movement from above made her panic. Scott was coming. Quickly, she moved from all fours and returned to her sitting position on the bed. Sitting down made everything worse - the heavily feeling of the baby so so low caused the pressure to spike. So much so she nearly threw up, gaging slightly at the same time Scott opened the basement door.

She could hear him huffing and puffing as he stomped every step, he was clearly struggling with something, and she saw the “surprise” before she saw him. It was a crib! Oh hell no, she thought to herself. There is no way my baby is being born here and it will never go in that thing.

“Darling…” he cooed as he got down to the basement “I got you something. Well, I got our baby something - a crib!” He said proudly as he placed it at the foot of the bed.

Libby didn’t say anything; saying something negative could earn her a slap, saying something positive he’d think she was up to something.

“Well?” He asked, clearly getting frustrated with her silence.

“It’s… nice.” She said timidly, he didn’t seem any calmer so she added “thank you.”

With that Scott broke into an unhinged smile. “Only the best for my baby. Made it myself!”

Libby felt the familiar tightening of another contraction approaching. Breathing steadily through her nose, she tried to keep any pain showing on her face.

“What do you think of the design?” He urged, unaware of the struggle happening inside Libby’s womb.

“Great.” She gritted out as calmly as she could.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Scott rushed upstairs leaving Libby alone for a minute.

The second he was out of sight her eyes scrunched and she panted erratically. Her hips were on fire, the baby sinking lower and lower. This was no false alarm, Libby finally admitted to herself.

Scott came bounding downstairs with a pile of baby clothes and blankets. “I also got these. I wasn’t sure if we were having a boy or a girl so got a selection of different clothes. And lots of blankets and toys. Everything we could possibly need.”

Libby couldn’t help it but she groaned loudly and curled over her contracting stomach.

“They’re not that bad!” Scott said, referring to the pile of clothes he’d now dumped into the crib.

“Ooooooh Scott….” Libby whimpered, the pain still barrelling through her body.

“Lib? What is it? What’s wrong?” He crouched down in front of her and placed a hand on her knee.

“I think… hooooo- I think I’m in labour. You have to take me to the hospital.” Libby pleaded.

“What? Oh no, you’re not fooling me again.” Scott recoiled away from her, and started pacing. “You- you tried that before remember. And then you tried to run away, to take my baby away! You were going to leave me Lib! No!! I’m not letting you out of my sight again. No way. No one else can have you. You and that baby are mine!”

“Scott… please. I’m having contractions… I need help… I need doctors…”

“No… I can’t. You’re just going to leave me again. I can’t lose you.” Scott shook his head, like he was trying to reorganise the thoughts inside. “You’re just pretending again, you’re not really having the baby, you’re just trying to escape. Well you can’t trick me twice. Nuh-uh. I’ll come back when you’ve stopped the act.”

“No! Scott!” Libby cried but the door slammed before she could say anything else.

~•~

Libby shouted and pleaded for 10 minutes straight after Scott went upstairs, but he never came back down. She stopped when her voice started to crack and when she thought she heard the front door slam.

This baby was coming and she was trapped - handcuffed to a bed in a basement in the middle of nowhere, the only person for miles was her crazy ex boyfriend who was convinced the baby was his.

Despite her wishful thinking, the contractions just kept on coming. It was as if accepting they were real had made them more frequent and stronger. There was no clock down here, she had no clue how often they struck, but Libby was aware of the gaps in between getting shorter.

Being in labour was bad enough but the fact she couldn’t move due to her restraints made everything a thousand time’s worse. In desperation she tried to squeeze her hand out the metal handcuff, twisting and pulling, but when it started to peel the skin off the back of her hand she screamed and gave up.

She couldn’t sit down anymore, the pain in her hips too great. All fours was bearable but her arms ached after too long. She tried squatting and kneeling against the headboard, standing and swaying beside the bed. Nothing helped. She felt like a caged animal; frustrated, angry, scared. All the while every contraction brought the baby closer and closer to being born, a fate she was trying desperately to avoid. She feared something might go wrong, and she was scared what would happen the moments after she delivered. Scott was clearly unstable, would he leave her here chained to the bed bleeding out and take away her baby?! She needed medical help, not only for the birth but for her best shot at escaping.

When Scott returned he found her on her knees beside the bed, slumped over the mattress and groaning heavily.

“You can stop this charade Libby! I’m not taking you anywhere!” Scott shouted from the steps of the basement.

“Mnnnghhh! It’s not a charade Scott! Oh god…. So much pressure….” Libby whimpered into the mattress, her knees widening instinctually.

“Come off it. You put on a good show but I know you’re faking it.”

Libby could only grunt, roaring against the building pressure between her thighs. An unmistakable splashing sound hit the concrete floor and she cried out. “My waters…. Hooo- I’m not - faking - it…” she panted and turned around to face him.

Scott’s face had paled and his eyebrows shot up. “Y-you really are in labour?”

“Yes,” Libby breathed, turning around awkwardly with the handcuffs and her large bump, sitting down heavily on the now-wet floor “please please take me to the hospital now.”

He didn’t say anything, instead he disappeared quickly back upstairs.

“Scott!!!” She cried out, worried he would just leave her there forever.

He returned a moment later carrying a plastic box. “It’s happening! Don’t worry darling, I have everything we need for our baby to be born.”

It’s not your baby!!!! Libby shouted in her head.

Sitting on the floor, one arm slung up over a shoulder stuck in the handcuffs, she rubbed her low and heavy stomach with the other as Scott began to unpack the box onto the table opposite.

“Towels. Gloves. Scissors. Clamps. Ooh more towels. Little sucker thing. Wow it’s got everything we need in here. Great Amazon find.” Scott commented as he rattled off everything inside the box.

Holy shit! He wants to deliver the baby here! Libby stopped breathing for a moment, panic squeezing at her heart. He was never going to let her go. She was never going to get her baby out of here before it was born.

“Scott… you can’t… be serious…” Libby said with strained breath.

“Shhhhh. It’s okay sweetie. I’ve done all the research, watched loads of videos. I know exactly what I’m doing and I will deliver our baby here.”

“But Scott I need a hospital, with nurses and medication.”

“No you don’t. Women birth babies every day. I’ve had months to prepare for this. It’s going to be fine, it’s going to be perfect.” Scott’s sinister smile chilled her resolve and another contraction struck before she could continue arguing.

He checked his watched and frowned. “You shouldn’t be having another contraction just yet.”

“I can’t hooooo control it!” Libby snipped.

“Oooo is this the part where you get all angry at me for doing this to you?” Scott joked with glee.

“You didn’t do this to me! This isn’t your baby Scott, please just let me go.”

“Don’t lie!!!!!” Scott shouted, an angry fire flashed briefly in his eyes and his fists clenched tight, but a second later the ire quickly disappeared. “You’re just scared, but it’s okay sweetie, I’m here and our baby will be fine.”

“Ohhh god…..” Libby grunted, the baby slipping lower and pressing against her cervix. She had to move, this position was unbearable, but her legs were useless during the raging contraction. She tried to push herself up, yanking her hands forward but the handcuff rattled and left her arm twisted backwards. “Mnnhhh- handcuffs…. Please undo the handcuffs…”

“You know I can’t do that Lib.” Scott said reluctantly.

“Please…. Mnghhhhh the baby…. I need to move. Can’t stay like this Scott…” Libby groaned and whimpered as the contraction peaked and gradually faded.

“I’m sorry honey, I can’t risk it. But let’s get you back onto the bed shall we, you’ll be much more comfortable there.”

The contraction had left her winded, Libby didn’t have the strength to argue anymore. But when Scott approached and went to help her up she managed to grit “Don’t touch me!” batting his advancing hands away.

“That’s gonna be difficult when I’m delivering our child.” Scott sarcastically replied.

Libby’s stomach rolled, not from a contraction but at the disgusting thought of Scott between her legs. Nausea bubbled inside, rising up her throat. She retched. “I think I’m gonna be sick…”

Scott jumped back as she dry heaved. “Erm…. I’ll get a bucket. Hang on.”

Libby struggled up to her knees, clinging sideways to the bed, and vomited all over the floor. The force of her stomach expelling its contents pushed the baby against her dilating cervix and towards the birth canal. She couldn’t stop herself from bearing down at the same time.

No no no… don’t push. Her brain cried but it wasn’t something she had control over.

By the time Scott returned with a bucket Libby had crawled back into the bed, leaving behind a puddle of amniotic fluid and vomit on the floor.

“Jeeze Libby, you’ve made a right mess. I’m glad we’re down here now, that would have been a nightmare to clean the carpets upstairs.”

“…water…” Libby panted, curled up on the bed and holding her hardened stomach, too exhausted to do anything other than bear through the labour pains tearing apart her body.

“Okay, sure.” Scott picked up the glass from the table and gently poured it into Libby’s dry mouth. “Everything will be okay Libby, our baby is nearly here.” He whispered, placing a grimy hand onto her bump and feeling the swell, his eyes hungrily lighting up as his fingers caressed the curve.

~•~

She was dying. This was how it would end; trapped in the dirty basement of her crazy ex boyfriend. She never got to meet her baby, or get married, never got to buy her own home, or travel the world. The pain was so much she could barely see. Curled up on the bed Libby groaned into the pillow as the latest contraction squeezed her body in on itself. She was vaguely aware of Scott flapping around the room, he was talking but she couldn’t hear what he was saying. The only thing she could focus on was the mass of the baby’s head sitting right behind her opening, and she was doing everything she could not to push.

The last few hours had been torture. She’d thrashed around the bed, screaming and begging to be freed, to be taken to the hospital. When transition hit she was brought back onto all fours, grunting and pushing without any semblance of control. Scott rubbed her back and encouraged her through it. She didn’t have the strength to bat him off but she did manage to aim her next round of vomiting onto his feet. And all the while Scott refused to unlock the handcuffs and she remained chained to the bed.

Now she was lying on her side over the covers, exhausted, her body completely and utterly drained. Her knees were curled up as much as she could, her bump squashed between her thighs and her breasts. The contractions were right on top of each other and she panted heavily through each one.

Don’t push! Don’t push! Don’t push! she told herself again and again.

“Right, the waters boiled, everything’s disinfected. Clamps and scissors ready. Towel, check. All we need now… is the baby…” Scott muttered, organising and reorganising the equipment.

Ever since the well-timed vomit, he had kept a grateful distance from Libby. He looked through all the toys and clothes in the crib, talking about all the things he would do with his child, trips they’d make, sports they’d play. He was in his own little world, Libby was just a background character.

Relentless contractions kept hitting her one after the other, she breathed as quietly as she could, tears leaking past her lashes from the effort it was taking not to push. She could feel the baby start to stretch her lips, the head inching further and further even without her active pushing. He’d removed her underwear not long after her waters had broken but her dress remained on her sweaty body, thankfully covering her lower half as she laid on the bed. Libby’s legs slightly parted of their own accord as the baby slipped lower. Still curled up on her side, the baby had a clear exit from its mother, but she couldn’t bring herself to move. Scott was ignoring her when she was lying like this and it was the only position that didn’t make her scream. And yet it also proved to be aiding her delivery.

When the next contraction barrelled straight after its predecessor Libby found herself holding her breath and it was only when the burning feeling started that she realised she was pushing. But she couldn’t stop. Gasping another breath she pushed once more, the baby stretching her wider and wider. An involuntary grunt escaped the labouring mother and alerted Scott to her actions.

“Are you…. Libby - are you pushing?! Is it time?” Scott jumped and rushed over to the bed.

Libby curled further over, her face burying into the pillow, squashing her bump and raising her backside. She groaned long and deep as she pushed the baby further out.

“Oh babe, you can’t push like that! You need to get in the correction position for delivery.” Scott said assuredly with all the delusional confidence his “research” had given him.

He took her bent leg, rolling her over onto her back and she screamed. “Scott! No!” The pain was excruciating, her spine was being stabbed, the fire burning between her thighs. She needed to push but she couldn’t when he kept moving her body.

“You need to be in the right position. Come on now, I know what I’m doing.”

“Stop… I can’t… I need to push…” Libby grunted.

“Wait a minute darling, you’re not ready just yet.”

Scott pulled her up to a sitting position and pushed her back against the headboard, pointlessly fluffing the limp old pillows behind her. Her legs were dragged apart and knees were bent and he jumped onto the foot of the bed and looked up her dress.

“Oh my gosh I can see the head!!!” He squealed. He threw her dress up higher, creasing the fabric just below her baby bump, fully exposing Libby’s vagina and the oval shaped crown of the head.

“Push Libby! You can push now!” He urged.

“I’m not-having a contraction-” Libby panted, furious she had been moved into this ridiculous and torturous position. Nothing about it felt right to her body, she wanted to go back on her side, to kneel, squat, anything but this.

“Oh… erm… well on the next one then. Push. No wait, I forgot the equipment.” Scott bounced off the bed and collected all the sterilised equipment he’d been preparing in readiness. “Ha! All that excitement, nearly forgot these.” He placed the items next to him, by her feet. The metal scissors glinted as they caught the light.

A desperate idea began to form in her head, but a contraction soon swept over her and pulled her focus to the burning ring between her thighs.

“Yes!!! Go on Libby! Push!!!” Scott cried.

Curling forward Libby pushed, her body squeezing the baby lower, its head stretching her wider. She grabbed her thighs, gulped another breath, and pushed. The scissors caught the light again with the movement on the bed. If she could just grab them…

“It’s coming, keep it going honey!” Scott yelled and she could feel his trembling hand between her legs.

Libby huffed releasing the push. It was too much, it was too big…

“Come on baby, go again, you’re so close.” Scott urged.

“Hooo-hoooo- okay…. Here it comes….!!!!” Libby threw herself forward curling over her bump once more. With Scott’s focus on the crowning baby she quickly grabbed the scissors and hid them in the gathered fabric of her dress. She screamed as the baby reached a full crown. Panting frantically her body twitched as the baby stretched her so wide she thought she’d be torn in two. Then it slipped further and with a sudden wail the baby’s head was delivered.

“Wow! The heads out, my baby’s head is born.” Scott awed.

Leaning closer his hands trembled towards the newly born head sitting between her thighs. No! You are not touching my baby! Libby thought, and she grabbed the hidden scissors and plunged them straight into Scott’s neck as she released an animalistic maternal wail.

Scott’s eyes bulged out, roaring in agony as the sharp scissors pierced deep into his muscles. He jumped back, standing for the briefest second staring in horror at her, before collapsing to his knees. A drowning choked sound gargled his throat and when he pulled the scissors from his neck the jets of blood sprayed across the room.

Libby watched, in shock at what she’d just done, as Scott clutched his neck, choking and bleeding. After a few strangled seconds he collapsed face first on the ground.

“Oh my god… oh my god….” Libby trembled, adrenaline and fear pumping through every cell in her body. She had to get out of there.

Twisting awkwardly around, she held the handcuff steady with her free hand and pulled her other through the tiny gap. The skin ripped from her hand, the metal scraping bone, she yelled out in pain but didn’t stop pulling until her bloodied hand was free.

It was as if she had left her physical body, the pain a dull echo compared to the survival instinct to get out of this basement. “I’m gonna get you outta here…” she panted, putting a gentle hand over the baby’s head between her legs. She scrambled off the bed, legs bowed as she cupped the head, and rushed toward the stairs of the basement.

Libby was careful, her previous encounter with this wooden staircase not ending well, climbing wide legged step after step towards freedom. She barely made it halfway when she was struck by another contraction. Holding the head with one hand and gripping the bannister tight with the other, her body squatted as it tried to push.

“Mnghhhhhhh! Oohhhhhh hang on baby…. Mnghhhhhh…. Not yet.” She could feel herself pushing hard, the shoulders starting to press against her, itching to come out, but with a firm hand and heavy panting she made it through the contraction.

When she reached upstairs she was surprised how familiar it all was, Scott had taken her here once when they were dating. It wasn’t much, the furniture and decor were dated, but it was a nice family holiday home in a nice rural location. She shuddered when she thought of the secret prison that was hidden below her feet.

Being familiar with the property made her escape easier, she knew the layout and of course where he kept the keys - in the side dish by the fridge. Grabbing the car keys Libby headed for the door and threw it open. But the baby didn’t want to wait any longer.

She hung on to the doorframe for dear life as the raging contraction took hold. “No no no!!!! We’re so close mnnnnnghhhhhh!!!!” Her legs widened as she squatted, pushing uncontrollably against the wall of her hand that held the baby’s head. The shoulders were slipping through… she could feel them stretching… “Ohhh fuck!” She cried, desperately pushing and holding the baby in at the same time.

When the near constant contraction let up just the tiniest bit, Libby made a break for it and ran to the car, both hands between her legs cupping the emerging baby. Unlocking the car with the press of the button she threw open the back door and clambered inside. She quickly locked the door, scared that Scott would somehow still be coming after her, and when she heard the reassuring click of the locks she huffed an exhausted cry.

But the baby was coming, and it was coming now. On her hands and knees in the back seat Libby finally gave in to nature and pushed in earnest, grunting long and deep as the shoulders stretched and slipped out. Lifting up onto her knees to catch the infant she released a primal roar with the final push and the baby slipped into her bloodied hands.

“Ohhhhhh hey baby, it’s okay it’s okay. I’ve got you.” Libby cried, pulling the little boy to her chest. Wiping his face clear he gave a little cough and started crying, soon matched with the tears of his mother.

“We did baby, we got out.” Libby panted and cried, safe with her baby inside the locked car. After a few minutes she wrapped the baby up against her chest with the towel, umbilical cord still connecting mother and child, and she hesitantly opened the door and got into the drivers seat. Starting the engine, Libby drove herself and her new baby to safety.

#my writing #birth prompts #birth denial #birth kink #birth fic #inconvenient birth #birth fiction #tw kidnapping #tw: blood #tw violence #tw death #tw vomit

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mrsrookhunt · 1 year

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What To Expect When Your Lab Experiment Drinks Formula| PT. 3

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Rook Hunt (Part 1)

Part three by popular demand! Malleus, Rook, Floyd, Sebek, Lilia, and Azul with feisty toddlers.

Warnings: angry toddlers, exhausted parents

Note: Every character has more than one child now with the exception of Azul.

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Malleus Draconia

The new princes and princesses of Briar Valley are Tiny Little MenacesTM.

You are Malleus are dealing with two wild toddlers, and one extremely fire-loving baby. Fire-loving, as in, the entire room has had to be fully fire proofed, from the walls to the ceiling.

The other children love being outside and playing, which gets them out of your hair while you attempt to feed and care for baby #3, oven mitts and fire-proof gear on.

The only one that your baby won't lease a barrage of firey giggles onto is Great-Grandma Maleficia, who can pick up the child without worry, a blessing in disguise to poor you and Malleus.

Whenever you aren't trying to wrangle the littlest Draconia heir, you and Malleus' time is filled by playing with rambunctious dragon toddlers. Your oldest is still as mischievous as ever, now taking off in full distance flights with your lunch everytime you turn around, and your younger toddler requiring immense amounts of attention.

All three have been deemed the 'wildest children the Draconia bloodline has ever seen', which says a lot. You hope they grow out of it, but the little ones seem stubbornly wild, with no chance of changing anytime soon.

Long training flights with Malleus often leave you watching the skies for their return at dinner time. It's not the life you imagined. But it's the life you never expect that's the one that satisfies you.

Rook Hunt

"HEYYYYYY!!!! PAPAAAA! LOOK WHAT I CAUGHT!" It's always a peaceful evening when the children are outside, until it's not.

Your 3 year old has been regularly running in with things you don't even know how they've caught as a toddler with no weapons.

Today, it's a bird bigger than your toddler's tiny body.

Rook has been diligently teaching your children how to hunt since they could walk, taking them for small hunting trips and shooting targets with children's play-bows.

Only two of your five children are too young to hunt, in his eyes, and even then you have not escaped their sharp, predatory gaze, which has been present since birth. You have no doubts that all of your children will be hunters. It's definitely a given, and as you've seen from Rook's family, seems to run in their blood.

The toddlers go outside and play on your patio every evening when the heat cools down, allowing you and Rook to have some peace and quiet. Rook is very enamored with the family you've created together. He always dreamed of finding beauty in his future, but never knew it would be so soon, and in the form of a domestic life with a spouse and children.

You and Rook are happy with this life you've created, enjoying the ups and downs of parenthood, the thrills of hunting with your whole family, the cuddly movie nights and soft words exchanged between you and your kids every night before bed.

It's a perfect life, one you never expected get, and never to love as much as you do.

Floyd Leech

It's been challenging for Floyd to be away from the sea for so long. You both agreed that it would be easier and more comfortable to live on land for the sake of your family, but it's definitely been a source of tension. Floyd and the children both go out to sea often as a compromise, leaving you all alone with the family pets and the occasional guest.

When they're home, you all spend hours together playing and loving on each other. All seven of your little ones have grown accustomed to Floyd, and have shifted their little spats of dominance to between each other.

It's true, it's practically a full-time job to keep them all from fighting. The youngest ones are the most ruthless, attacking their siblings and destroying their surroundings entirely as they cry and whine, throwing little catty hands at each other as 'fights'. It seems to do more emotional damage than physical.

Then again, are your surroundings ever not destroyed by the 7 restless children? They're so obscenely playful that they make sure that your life is challenging to say the least. Sometimes you're glad for the break you get when they go for day-long dives under the sea. They're probably making some tornadic-like mess of Jade's home, but that's not the end of the world for you.

Your relationship with Floyd is nothing short of magical. There's still as much love there as there was when you started dating, if not more. Your family has its odd little quirks, but what matters is that you're all together, happy and proud of the life you've created. You are especially thrilled that you made your own life work in a world that wasn't even yours. You've made it your home now, and you could never feel more content than you do now.

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek has grown to love his children very much. After your first began to love on him as often as you, he fell completely into the role of a family man. All three of your children love Sebek immensely, having grown fond of him after he let down his guard around them.

Your littlest one is the perfect carbon copy of Sebek, even at 15 months old. Not only does this child seem to possess no personality traits or features of yours, this little one's very first word was 'Mallie'. Sebek could not be prouder, and more eager to train his children in the path of a royal retainer afterwards.

Your oldest is still the wildest little mini croc you've ever seen. Nothing in the parenting books could have prepared you for your child's defiance and strong will. The other two, though relatively calmer children, seem to eagerly egg on your oldest with nonsense excited baby babble.

Now that your oldest's teeth have grown in fully, Sebek has to watch his limbs carefully. His family is known for their bite power, and this child is no exception by a long shot, seeming to have a stronger bite than even Sebek himself. Though your toddler does love Sebek dearly, they haven't learned that biting isn't a game. And after biting clean through a leg of furniture last month, Sebek has been terrified ever since.

The younger two don't use their teeth to bite people, but toys and furniture are a free-for-all.

Your children are very adept and skilled at squirming out of any situation, physically and verbally. You think to yourself that they will in fact make wonderful guards some day, but you don't ever tell Sebek that for fear that he'll make the poor things train even harder to please both of their parents.

You and Sebek end up on the floor, playing games with your very imaginative children quite often, cuddling and laughing with each other while they all pretend to be royal knights and sometimes, doctors. Sebek won't say it but he thinks his oldest would make a very good doctor and he approves.

You've never been happier, and never more in love with Sebek, as is he, you. It's a perfect fairytale world for the two of you. Who knew that Twisted Wonderland would end up becoming where you were always meant to be?

Lilia Vanrouge

C H A O S.

There's twelve little Vanrouges running around, acting absolutely chaotic and mischievous at all times. Poor you and Lilia. Twelve children under four sounds cute but it's an absolute nightmare, especially when they have the lineage of a certain silly fae.

It's manageable, but only because Silver is there suffering with y'all. And barely. Sometimes you think he's about to run out of the house and cry after some unwitting action that led to a vicious prank from one or more children.

Last week, they cornered him from all sides with sticks while you and Lilia were out, and the oldest threatened to poke him in the eyes.

Some mischief, lots pure evil.

It's only you that can scoop them up and tell them to behave, because they are absolutely remorseless in their merciless bullying of their father. Most of them don't even call him dad. They call him 'oldie'. The ones that are too young to talk still laugh at him.

Lilia doesn't mind too much, scolding them for their rudeness, but rarely punishing them. He claims he's too old to be properly disciplining them, but it's quite obvious that he's reminiscent of himself in these children.

During the good moments, you might be able to convince the children to at least make a father's day card, or get them to agree not to prank Silver on his birthday. Usually this is still done with bribery. But sometimes, the sweetest moments are unprompted. Like the time your daughter sat on Lilia's lap and gave him a hug after he watched a scary movie, because 'Daddy might have nightmares.'

Your family is wholly complete Silver hopes and prays. You and Lilia are happy, and content. Lilia is still overjoyed that he got the chance to have biological children, and you're just happy that you've found a place to settle down in Twisted Wonderland, and be happy.

Azul Ashengrotto

You only have one child still? Yeah. He loves your child dearly, but after much consideration and a lot of diapers changed, you decided one was for the best.

Your baby is three now 'Three n' a HALF', your child insists.

Your little one is pretty well-behaved. Despite being a spoiled only child, little Ashengrotto is very humble, kind, and sweet.

Definitely not like their money hungry father. This child just wants animal crackers and time at the swimming pool.

But your child is sharp-witted, just like Azul. There have been many times when you've said something to your toddler and had it immediately debunked with a smug look on their face.

It makes you laugh. And cry, a little bit. Time flies, and your child seems to mentally age two years for the physical price of one.

Your little one reminds you with a smile and crumb-littered cheeks and askew purple octopus glasses that they're still young, and always here for you. You are enthralled with your life with Azul and your baby, a real true blessing. This was how it was always meant to be, even if it wasn't how you ever thought your life would go.

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Unless I write a part 4 by request this is probably the end of the series, but I really loved it! Thank you for coming along!! As always, feel free to request for more.

-Kaori

-July 13th, 2023

@growingupnrealizing , here it is!

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hier--soir · 1 year

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whole new can of worms

joel miller x f!reader

rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: two friends decide to blow off a little steam together. warnings/tags: [18+ minors DNI] fwb!joel, famous HOG joel miller lmao, age gap [20 years], language, alcohol consumption, established friendship, guitar playing joel!!, oral [f and m recieving], p in v sex, starts slow and careful and ends up rough oops. word count: 6.9k (nice) series masterlist | masterlist a/n: okay LOOK. i’m working on a final part to this little impromptu series, but I got very side-tracked with the idea of a prequel and then the most smut I’ve ever written just fucking spilled out of me. this is the first time they had sex, ladies and gentlemen. you get the beginning before you get the end. enjoy. also, this moment from tlou pt 2 game is what i was picturing for the beginning when joel is playing the song. dont watch if you don't want to, its from a cut scene very late in the second game. zero spoilers, just joel miller strumming that damn guitar in a way i'll never forget. this is part one of my fwb!joel series. you can find the other parts here: two, three, four.

“Play that one I like.”

Joel offered no verbal response, but sat up straighter in his chair, fingers adjusting along the fretboard of his guitar. You relaxed into your seat, closing your eyes and taking a long sip from your glass of amber liquor.

He began playing and you smiled happily, goosebumps breaking out across your skin as the familiar tune filled the air between you and your friend, melding with the sound of rain softly pattering against the roof of his veranda. You kicked your feet up onto the table between you, the tense muscles in your legs aching from the stretch.

“Get your feet off the table,” Joel muttered, fingers never ceasing on the instrument. “Animal.”

Your eyes stayed closed, but you stuck your tongue out in his direction, smirking a little and keeping your feet up, knowing he didn’t really mind.

Both of you had endured a long fucking day.

Winter was fading into Spring, and the trees and plants in Jackson were slowly but surely beginning to bloom again. It meant you were spending more hours in the green house than out on patrol, and you weren’t complaining. Tending to the garden relaxed you, connected you to nature and to one of the food sources in the commune that helped put a little bit of food on everyone’s plate each week. Working there made you feel connected to the town, and you loved it, truly. Except, for when a thunderstorm happened.

They’d scared you for as long as you could remember. Since you were a kid, thunder and lightning had made you want to crawl under the covers on your bed and hide away until the loud noises disappeared. But as a full-grown woman, you weren’t afforded such luxuries. Rain, hail or shine, the people in Jackson depended on each other, and you couldn’t duck out of a shift because of a silly little phobia.

When the rain started pouring down on the glass roof of the greenhouse you hadn’t been surprised. Only a few weeks into springtime, the town was still shaking off the remnants of a bitterly cold winter, and a little rain was still common. It was only when the first crack of thunder sounded that you’d stilled, hands frozen gripping a heavy pot, an unwelcome shiver racing down your spine. You’d had to work for hours, the sound of rain pelting against the roof accompanying you, with flashes of lightning appearing out of the corner of your eye all day.

When all was said and done, you’d trudged through the downpour to Joel’s house and arrived on his doorstep looking like a drowned rat, only to find out that he’d spent his afternoon stuck outside on patrol, in the very weather you were so upset about.

He’d opened the door with damp hair, bundled in warm clothes, the tip of his nose a light shade of pink from the cold.

“Whiskey?” he’d asked.

You nodded. “Whiskey.”

And so the pair of you had ended up on his porch, under cover from the residual spit of rain, forgetting all about the shit day through good company and good alcohol.

As Joel strummed the last few chords of the song you sighed glumly, cracking an eye open to watch him. He set the guitar down gently and reached for his glass.

“So beautiful,” you murmured. “Wish I could play.”

“And then what use would I be?” he chuckled. “Can’t have you learning guitar; I’d have no one to play for anymore.”

You watched him closely. Staring into his glass, you could see him mulling the words over in his head. Ellie had hardly spoken a word to him in weeks, and you could see the toll it was taking, although you never pried. Clearly, something had happened, and although you and Joel were close, you hadn’t wanted to insert yourself into whatever drama had consumed his little found family. It made your chest hurt though, to watch him miss that girl. He’d always loved playing for her.

“Good thing I’m lazy then,” you mused softly. “Swear I couldn’t play an instrument with a gun to my head. I’ll need to keep you around.”

“Works for me,” he said, refilling both your glasses. “You on the patrol roster tomorrow?”

You shook your head, accepting the glass with a grateful smile. A slight buzz warmed your insides, fighting to keep your body temperature up as the cool breeze licked at your exposed hands and face. “Nope, I’m a free agent tomorrow, no responsibilities.”

“God damn,” he rolled his eyes. “Gonna be stuck out there all alone with Tommy.”

“Devastating,” you grinned. “I’m way better company.”

“Too right,” Joel agreed. “What’s your plan for the day, little miss no responsibilities? Still reading that book I found you?”

Probably masturbate. The thought zipped through your mind so suddenly that you felt your chest warm, and you cleared your throat softly.

“Yeah,” you replied. “Probably just read for a while. Dinner at Maria and Tommy's, remember?”

You hoped he didn’t see through the lie, because the truth was that you were embarrassed by yourself. Only a few days before you’d been struck by the realisation that you hadn’t had sex, or even been touched intimately by another person, in months. In fact, you noted sullenly, it had been half a fucking year. And you were struggling. It was your longest dry spell in a while, and every night lately you’d found yourself tangled up in your bed with your hand in your underwear, wishing desperately that someone, anyone, else was there with you.

Trying to ward off the unsavoury thoughts filling your mind, you took a deep gulp of whiskey and shut your eyes, contemplating asking if he had any cigarettes laying around.

Suddenly, a deep groan pierced the air between you and your eyes shot open. What the fuck?

With wide eyes, you saw that Joel was gripping his right leg tightly, thumb rubbing deep circles into the skin above his knee cap, and you forced yourself to relax. A sound of pain, you realised. But your heart had stuttered in your chest, because as out of character as it would’ve been, with your eyes closed it had sounded like a vaguely sexual noise. You rolled your eyes, willing yourself to get a grip. But it had been so long, and the sound of a man groaning in any way was enough to light a fire in your stomach.

“It’s the cold,” he noticed your stare. “Makes my knee ache.”

You nodded knowingly, eyes watching as his large hand gripped his thigh, applying pressure to the tender area.

“What’s up your ass?” Joel asked.

“Huh?” your gaze flashed up to meet his and found him watching you closely, eyebrows furrowed.

“You’re frownin’,” he said. “Gone all quiet suddenly.”

“So are you,” you huffed defensively, face warming. “You always fucking frown, I can’t do it one time?”

“No,” he grinned cheekily, stilling rubbing his knee. “I frown enough for the both of us. You can figure somethin’ else out.”

You let out a begrudging chuckle and felt the indent between your eyebrows relax.

“Seriously,” he pushed. “What’s wrong? Is it too cold? We should move inside.”

“No,” you cringed, scratching the side of your neck awkwardly. Lowering your legs off the table you sat up a little straighter in your chair. “It’s good out here, I like it. I’m just… distracted, I don’t know.”

“What’s on your mind?” he sipped his whiskey.

Without needing any more prompting, you gave up on beating around the bush. “When’s the last time you had sex?”

A choked sound escaped him, and he swallowed quickly, coughing into his elbow. “Christ, what?”

“I’m not,” your cheeks were on fire. “I’m not thinking about you having sex, relax. I was thinking about me having sex. Or not having sex, to be more precise.”

He coughed again, an awkward expression flashing across his face.

You and Joel had been friends for a few years now, since he and Ellie returned to Jackson and decided to settle in the commune. After being friends with Tommy for a few years before that, you’d fallen into a natural friendship with his older brother. It was no secret that there was 20 odd year age difference between you and Joel, but in a post-apocalyptic world, it had never phased either of you. Friends were friends, and an age gap didn’t impact much. But sex was a topic that had seldom come up in conversation over those few years. Here and there maybe, but never in detail, and never so candidly.

“I almost walked in on Shae and Petra fucking the other day,” you continued plainly. “She was late for patrol, so I went over to see if she’d slept in, and I could hear them from outside the fucking house. Stood there like an ass for a minute, just listening like a creep.”

Joel watched you closely, and you noticed his hand gripped his glass a little tighter, fingertips white from the pressure “You… listened?”

“Don’t look at me like that,” you cringed, rubbing a hand over your face shamefully. “Just for a fucking second. Hadn’t realised how long it had been, and it was like my feet wouldn’t move.”

“I see.”

“You better not tell a soul about this,” you pointed at him threateningly. “I’ll end you if anybody finds out, Miller. I swear.”

“I believe you,” he snorted, holding his hands up in surrender. “My lips are sealed.”

You relaxed a little, relieved to discover that he wasn’t going to be as awkward about it as you’d first feared.

“How long has it been?”

Your eyes ticked up to stare at him again. “Like, six months or something.”

Joel let out a low whistle and nodded slowly, sipping from the crystal tumbler in his hand. “You poor soul.”

“Oh, come off it,” you scoffed in disbelief. “Don’t tell me you’re having sex and I’m not? This just keeps getting worse.”

“Fuck you,” he drawled mockingly, that deep Texan accent making you grin. “Would it be such a surprise if I was?”

“S’just bullshit,” you glowered, picking at your nails in frustration. Traces of soil still lined the creases in your palms and you rubbed at it furiously, in a fruitless attempt at cleaning them.

“I’m not,” is all he said, and you frowned at him in confusion. “Havin’ sex,” he added with a smirk. "And it's been longer for me, so quit your whinin'."

You raised your eyebrows, appreciating the honesty. “Well thank god I’m not the only one.”

“Don’t know when I would,” he shrugged simply. “And who would I be having sex with, anyways? Spend all my fuckin’ time on patrol listening to Tommy talk for hours, or I’m sleepin’, or I’m with you.”

The thought itched so suddenly at the back of your brain, and you fought against it, shaking your head ever so slightly to push it away. Don’t think that. But it was persistent, and after a few moments of silence, your mind was filled with thoughts of you and Joel Miller fucking.

Admittedly, it was something you’d thought about once or twice when you’d first met him. He was a handsome guy, and his arrival in Jackson had definitely caused a stir among the women in the commune. But you’d fallen into a friendship so quickly, so comfortably, that the thought had never reared its ugly head again. Until now.

You watched him for a moment. His hair was dry at that point, and short messy curls framed his face and neck. He had neat dark facial hair, with sweet specks of ashy grey mixed in here and there. That familiar scar on the bridge of his nose. Lips that had gone a darker shade of pink from the cold, that you’d never realised looked quite so… plush. Eyes trailing down, your gaze raked over his hands. Long, calloused fingers that wrapped around almost the entirety of his glass. the warmth in your stomach spread downward, and you knew you should feel embarrassed at where your brain was taking you, but you couldn’t stop yourself. Images flashed through your mind of his hands gripping you like that. Fingers leaving marks on your thighs, on your neck. You shivered, looking away quickly.

“Fuck,” you sighed quietly, not even caring if he heard.

“Hey,” he said softly, assuming you were upset. “Someone’ll come along. We could talk to Tommy about setting you up or somethin’.”

You hummed noncommittally and turned in your chair to face him head on. Joel noticed and adjusted his position to do the same, raising an eyebrow. “What’s that look?” he asked, eyebrows pinching together.

Jesus, here goes nothing.

“What if we fucked?”

Joel stared. His jaw clenched almost imperceptibly, and he put his glass down on the table with a soft clink.

“What?” he said lowly, his voice taking on a sudden gravelly quality.

“I mean,” you searched desperately for the words to explain yourself, licking your lips nervously. “You said it yourself, we’re so busy, right? Always working, or sleeping, or we’re hanging out, you and me. So, what if we just… blew off a little steam together?”

His eyebrows had raised so dramatically you thought they might disappear into his hairline. It wasn’t often you managed to shock Joel, and you laughed gently at the astounded expression that decorated his face.

“You want to blow off steam… with me?” he pointed lamely at his chest.

“Don’t sound so incredulous,” you joked. “You’re a catch, Joel. You know the teens call you a HOG, right? Hot old guy.“

“Shut up,” he held up a hand to silence you, his eyes squeezing shut tightly as you laughed at his embarrassment. “Don’t want to hear that shit.”

“It wouldn’t mean anything, Joel,” you reassured, veering back on topic. “We could just… help each other wind down after a long day.”

You watched each other in silence for a moment, and you noticed him shuffle slightly in his seat, hand gripping his knee once again. For a minute, you worried that you’d upset him. The friendship you two shared was strong, and you always known you could confide almost anything in him. He was trustworthy, and valued your word above so many others. But maybe this was over the line.

As you were about to speak again, about to take it all back and apologise for even suggesting it, he finally opened his mouth.

“It wouldn’t mean anything?” he clarified. “This won’t affect our friendship.”

You shook your head quickly. “Nothing at all. No strings, bud. Final offer.”

With a deep, rumbling sigh, Joel snatched his glass off the table and downed the remainder of its contents before standing up. “Alright then.”

You’d been in Joel’s room a hundred times over the years. Hauling him out of bed for patrol after he’d accidentally slept in, or rifling through his chest of drawers to steal a thick pair of socks. But never for this reason. The pair of you stood awkwardly at the foot of his bed, staring at everything other than each other, as the air crackled with palpable tension.

Joel scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, and you smirked, unfamiliar with seeing him being unsure of himself.

“If you don’t want to, we can just forget I ever sai-“

“Just taking your fuckin’ clothes off,” he grunted, staring you down suddenly. Wide eyed, you felt a rush of heat through your thighs.

“Jesus,” you breathed. “Romance isn’t dead.”

He huffed out a laugh and your shoulders relaxed, happy to see a crack through his tense façade. Your tugged off your sweater, and then your shirt, tossing them over the chair in the corner of his room. Working quickly, you undid the zipper on your pants and pulled them down your legs until you were left in your underwear, a thin white singlet, and your socks.

You reminded yourself that Joel had already seen you naked, thinking back on a time when the two of you had gone skinny dipping in a lake you stumbled across on patrol the summer before. But this was so different. This wasn’t a random moment of spontaneity. And at the lake he'd been a gentleman, averting his eyes for the most part out of politeness, but now? Now he was watching your every move.

Silently, he undid the strap off his watch and placed it on the top of his dresser, before working to undo the buttons on his shirt. After he had tugged it off, you let your eyes trail over his exposed skin, and with no fabric covering him, you could see how quickly his chest rose and fell.

“Hey,” you said quietly, stepping forward and placing a hand on his chest. You felt his heart race under the warm skin and smiled. “It’s just me. Let me help you relax, okay?”

His tongue darted out to wet his lips quickly, and you wondered what it would be like to kiss him. You didn’t dwell on it though, and leaned forward to drag your lips across the skin of his neck. He smelt like rain and pine needles, and you inhaled deeply, pressing soft kisses along his pulse point. One of his hands landed heavily on your waist and his thumb begun rubbing encouraging circles over your hip bone. You hummed against his skin, pressing your chest against his. Exposed to the cool temperature, your nipples pebbled underneath your shirt, and from his exhale you knew he could feel them pressing against his bare chest.

With a slight tremor in your hand, you trailed your fingers down his chest. Through the soft hair smattered there, over the thick jagged scar on his stomach, to his belt buckle. Joel shivered lightly, gripping your waist a little tighter. You worked quickly to undo his belt, and then you dragged his zipper down. With a low sigh, you rested your hand over the front of his pants. He jolted slightly, hand sliding around your back to hold you tighter to his chest. With your face hidden in his neck, you couldn’t see his reaction, but you took the firm pressure of his hand on your back as a clear sign to continue. You palmed him gently through his pants, listening to the little puffs of air that rushed out of his nose as he kept his breathing calm. A surge of confidence rushed through you, and you stepped away, letting your hand fall away from him. His arm dropped from your back to his side, and he watched with bated breath as you lowered yourself onto your knees in front of him.

You gripped the waistband of his pants and started to drag them down his legs, helping him step out of them. Wearing nothing but a tight pair of briefs, it was impossible not to stare. You could see the shape of him through the dark fabric, your mouth salivated. More, you needed to see more. Without wasting a second, you tucked your fingers into the band of them and pulled them down slowly, giving him the chance to stop you if he wanted to. But he didn’t. He watched you with hooded dark eyes, chest moving with deep controlled breaths, his bottom lip tucked into his mouth. With his underwear gone, Joel’s cock finally came into your sight. He was only half hard, you realised with awe, and your stomach tingled as you realised what you were in for. Reaching out, your traced your fingers slowly over his hip bones, smiling as goosebumps broke out across his skin, before gently wrapping your fingers around him.

A shaky breath escaped from his nose.

“Is this okay?” you asked quietly, hand stroking softly along his length. He nodded jerkily. “Why don’t you sit on the bed?”

Joel dropped heavily onto the edge of his bed, and you moved forward to rest on your knees in between his parted legs, placing your hand back over him. The air in the room had turned humid, and you could feel sweat forming on your back out of anticipation. The only light source came from the moon shining in his window, bathing the both of you in a pale light.

“You’re so handsome,” you sighed wistfully, gripping him tighter. “I’ve always known it, but seeing you like this is different. So handsome, Joel.”

He reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder, gripping your skin and massaging the knotted muscle at the top of your back. You groaned appreciatively, and without another moment’s hesitation, you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his thigh. No more fucking around. You needed him.

Your hand stroked him firmer, tighter, but your mouth was salivating, desperate to taste him. So you dragged wet kisses along his leg until you reached his abdomen, and then you brought your wet mouth to hover over his cock. You heard his breath hitch and smiled devilishly, staring greedily at his ruddy tip, marvelling as a drop of precum leaked out of him. Painfully slow, you pushed forward and pressed a kiss to it, tongue darting out to swipe along him and taste his salt. Joel hissed in surprise, gripping your shoulder tighter as his other hand moved to the back of your head. Not putting any pressure there, just holding you. Lathing your tongue over his head, you moaned lowly at the taste of him. Salty and warm and masculine. You could feel your underwear sticking uncomfortably against you from how wet you were. Closing your eyes, you cupped his balls gently and pressed wet kisses down his length, dragging your tongue over the pulsing vein that ran from base to tip, and basking in the short gasps that flew out of his mouth.

“Stop teasin’,” he grumbled, and you looked up with a smirk to see his dark eyes glaring down at you.

“Sorry,” you lied, before taking his head into your warm mouth and sucking gently. Slowly, you pressed forward, taking more of him in. You felt him swell against your tongue, getting harder from the stimulation, and you hummed around him. He was so big. Maybe bigger than anyone you’d been with, and you struggled to take it all. He was so thick and heavy in your mouth, it was all you could think about. Consuming every thought, every feeling; all you could focus on was the weight of him on your tongue. You worked on creating a rhythm, bobbing your head and taking as much of him in your mouth as you could, while your hand gripped him at the base, stroking him at the same time.

And finally, finally, he made a sound.

“Fuuuck,” he groaned, drawing out the vowel as a heavy breath he’d been holding escaped his lungs. His fingers dragged through your hair roughly, gripping the back of your head. You pushed yourself forward, taking more of him in until he was pressing into your throat, and you swallowed tightly around him. “Christ, feels so fuckin’ good.”

Seemingly against his will, Joel’s hips bucked upward off the bed and you gagged around him, tears springing into your eyes. He moaned lowly, cursing under his breath at the feeling of your throat contracting around him. Unable to help yourself, you removed your hand from him and lowered it down your body, slipping your fingers underneath the band of your underwear and dipping into the wet heat between your own legs. Breathing harshly through your nose, you moaned around him as your finger brushed your aching clit. You pulled back and worked your tongue over his weeping slit, enjoying the way his grip on your hair tightened as you paid close attention to the most sensitive part of him.

“You’re drivin’ me insane,” he ground out, and you glanced up to see him watching you reverently, eyes wide and glossy, cheeks flushed. “So fuckin’ hot. God, you have the prettiest mouth, how did I never notice that? Never fuckin’ thought about how good my cock would look between your lips until it was happening. I’m a fuckin’ idiot.”

Your cunt pulsed against your fingers and you whimpered, taking him back in your mouth as far as you could. God, the way he spoke made you fucking ache for him. after so many years of knowing him, hearing his voice every day, you’d never have imagined him saying things like that to you. But the weight of him in your mouth was delicious, and his words only spurred you to push forward, forward, forward, revelling in the way he groaned as your nose brushed the dark curls at his base. Tears leaked out of your eyes, rolling down your cheeks from the effort, but you didn’t stop. You slid a finger inside yourself and gagged around him again, eyes rolling back in your head at the intoxicating sensation of having something inside both your mouth and your pussy.

“Takin’ me so well,” his thumb brushed across your cheek, wiping away the tears. “God, I’m in your fuckin’ throat, baby.” The pet name made your stomach tighten, and you moaned as more slick formed around your fingers.

“Shit,” he choked out suddenly, losing all composure. “Are you fucki-“

You moaned, eyebrows furrowing as you fucked your hand and bobbed your mouth up and down quicker over his length.

“Stop,” he ordered, saying your name firmly. “I- Stop, I’m gonna come.” You ignored him, making a high-pitched sound around him as you felt the hot coil in your stomach begin to tighten. His hand gripped your hair tighter, and he pulled you off him.

You blinked lazily up at him, eyebrows furrowed dejectedly, lips parted. A string of saliva hung in the air between your bottom lip and his tip. You dragged your fingers out of your underwear, chest heaving with heavy breaths.

“Jesus, don’t fuckin’ look at me like that,” he groaned and broke eye contact, gripping your shoulder to pull you up off the floor. “Get up.”

Pushing gently on your shoulders, he nudged you forward onto the bed, and you crawled up before collapsing with your heads against the pillows. His bed was softer than you’d anticipated, and everything smelt like him. The pillows, the duvet. God, even if this was a one-time thing, you’d never forget that smell. He followed you, settling with his legs in between yours, and placed his palms on your stomach, pushing the thin material of your shirt up and over your breasts until it was bunched around your collarbones. Your heart pounded heavily in your chest, and you were aching for him, begging him with your eyes to just please, do something, anything.

And Joel was on you before you could speak, his fingers tracing and over your nipples, squeezing the weight of your breast in his palm before latching his lips onto you. He sucked your painfully tight nipple into his mouth, tongue lazily swiping across it, driving you insane. You sighed heavily, running a hand over the skin of his back and holding him to you. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin ever so lightly and your back arched off the bed. Moving over, he shifted his ministrations to your other breast, his eyes closed as he wet your skin with his slick mouth. And then one of his hands was drifting down your stomach, tickling over your skin, under it met your underwear, and he was cupping you through the fabric. Your hips stuttered upward, and he groaned into your chest, trailing his fingers over the soaked material.

“So fuckin’ wet already,” he muttered into your skin, and you nodded franticly against the pillows. “Did you get this turned on just from havin’ my cock in your mouth? Had to touch yourself?” Surprise zapped through you once more, ecstatic to learn just how much he loved to talk during sex. It was one of your favourite things, and it had always killed you to have sex with someone who was just silent the whole time.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Wanted you to finish in my mouth.”

He bit down onto your chest in response and you cried out quietly, eyes rolling back as he sucked a mark onto your skin with his fingers continued tracing feather light over your covered core.

“Maybe later,” his voice was strained. “Need to see you come first.”

He pulled the fabric of your underwear to the side, and then he was touching you with no barrier, and you trembled beneath him. You’d forgotten how good it felt to have someone else’s hands on you.

Joel groaned as he dipped his middle finger between your warm folds, gliding it up and down along your core, getting it covered in your slick. He swirled the tip of his finger around your entrance and you whimpered, hips grinding desperately against his hand. But he didn’t go inside you. His finger moved back up, all the way up, and swiped gently over your clit and you let out a pathetic moan. Such a small, miniscule touch had your stomach tensing painfully, ridiculously close to orgasm after so much time.

Bringing his face up to rest beside yours, he sucked your earlobe into his mouth gently, before murmuring in your ear, “I want to taste you.”

You didn’t say anything, too stunned by the feeling of his fingers against you, until he probed you for a response, purring your name into your ear.

“Need to hear you say it,” he encouraged. “Tell me what you want.”

“Please,” you begged, eyes shut tightly as he rubbed soft circles around your bundle of nerves. “I want you to taste me.” A grunt of frustration left your mouth as his hand disappeared and you opened your eyes to glare at him, but your mouth fell open, awestruck, when you saw him raise his soaked digits to his lips.

“Like this?” he goaded, sucking your slick off himself and groaning.

“Please,” you repeated, mouth dry as you watched him hum around his middle finger. “Need your mouth on me, your tongue, I-“

“Okay,” he soothed, moving down the bed in an instant. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”

He spread your legs apart, fingers splayed as he held your thighs against the bed, displaying your weeping centre for him to see. A deep sound echoed though the room, and it took you a moment to realise it had been Joel. His dark eyes stared at the spot between your legs, and he dragged his fingers through the coarse hair that covered you.

His movements were torturously slow as he leaned down, pressing sloppy kisses on your hips, along the inside of your thighs, until finally his hot breaths were fanning across your core. You clenched around nothing, whimpering at how empty you felt but knowing it would have to wait.

It was like stepping into a warm bath. The second his tongue was on you, fire raced through your veins, warming your body from head to toe. A sound of relief slipped from your lips, and your eyes rolled back as he licked a broad stripe up the entire length of you. A raspy groan vibrated against you as he pressed a messy kiss against your pussy. You looked down and gasped at the sight of his eyes already on you, watching you and your reactions to him.

“Taste so fuckin’ good,” he drawled against you and you twitched at the sensation of his lips brushing against your clit. His thumbs pressed against your folds, holding you open for him to see everything, and he lathed his warm tongue against your clit, circling it until you were moaning and tensing your thighs against his hold, muscles screaming at you to press against his head and hold him to you.

You whispered his name over and over as if it were a prayer. As if you’d forgotten all other words in the English language and his name was your only salvation. His tongue dipped inside your entrance, prodding firmly until you whimpered and begged him to please, please, let you come.

He ate you out like a man possessed. Like you were his last meal and he intended to savour every god damn second of the experience. He was ravenous, lips and tongue working together to make every muscle in your body tighten until you were gasping. At some point your hand had drifted behind his head and you found yourself tangling your fingers in his hair, pulling it tightly as his mouth moved against you.

“Joel,” you groaned. He hummed against you, movements never ceasing. “Oh fuck, Joel, I’m gonna come.”

His eager moan into your cunt was all it took for you to be catapulted over the precipice and drop into your orgasm. Your body was on fire, vibrating against him as you trembled through it, moans and cries leaving your mouth as your way of thanking him. His hands held your thighs in a vice grip, and there would no doubt be marks there tomorrow to remind you were his fingertips had dug into your skin. As your body relaxed into the mattress again, he pressed a final kiss to your clit before pulling back and dragging his face across your thigh, wiping the remnants of your slick off his facial hair.

“Fuck,” he rasped, grinning up at you with glistening lips.

“So good,” you agreed, nodding as you tried to catch your breath.

“Almost came all over the sheets,” he admitted and you laughed, beckoning him towards you. He stumbled a bit, one of his knees buckling below him on the bed, leading him to land awkwardly on top of you.

“Shit,” he groused. “Sorry, bad fuckin’ knee. You’ve got me all bent out of shape.”

You chuckled lowly, pulling him up to lay beside you on the bed. “Let’s not put anymore pressure of them then, okay?” He watched you carefully, curiously, as you turned on your side and then moved backwards, pressing yourself flush against his chest.

His cock pulsed against your ass, and he wrapped an arm around your waist, hand splayed on your stomach to hold you against him as he rutted forward. The feeling of his wet tip dragging along your skin reignited the fire in you and you whimpered, lifting your leg only to push it back and drape it over his waist as much as you could.

“You want it like this?” he asked urgently, hot breaths fanning across your sweaty neck. He pinched your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, tugging on it gently.

You nodded, and waited as he pushed his body a little lower on the bed. His hand disappeared from your chest, and you allowed yourself to pout a little, only because you knew he couldn’t see your face. And then his left arm slithered underneath your shoulder and wrapped loosely your neck, gripping your opposite arm to pin you against him. His free hand gripped his cock and pushed it forward until he was sliding his head between your folds.

Both of you sighed at the sensation and you gripped his arm in anticipation. You could feel his torso moving against your back as he breathed, the soft hair on his chest tickling your skin.

“You ready?” he asked and you grunted, pushing back against him again.

“Joel,” you said in a dangerously low tone. “If you’ve ever cared about me, you will stop teasing and fuck me right now.”

He laughed darkly, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Yes, ma’am.”

He notched his tip at your entrance and you gasped as he pressed forward, pressing himself inside of you. It took what felt like minutes for him to bottom out, and when you felt his hips pressing against your ass, you tried to relax. The burn was intense, and you cursed yourself for not anticipating a little bit of pain after such a long dry spell. Joel held still, fingers stroking carefully over the skin of your shoulder, understanding that you needed a second.

“Fuck,” you choked out. “Joel, you’re huge.”

He let out a gravelly sound into the back of your neck, body shuddering against yours. “You’re takin’ it so well though,” he gritted out. “So tight around me, grippin’ me so good.”

He pulled back a touch before pressing back into you, and you moaned deeply. That was all the confirmation he needed to continue, pulling almost fully out of you before moving into you harder, stronger, and beginning a steady pace. Your body jolted forward with every one of his movements, but his arm around your neck held you firmly, never allowing you to go too far.

Curses drifted from your mouth, and you hid your face in his arm, biting down on the muscle of his bicep to stifle your sounds. You clenched around him suddenly and his hips stuttered forward, slamming into you in a way that made your stomach tense deliciously. He was so fucking deep, the angle allowing him to glide against your g-spot with every thrust.

“Fuckin’,” he moaned. “You’re so good, bein’ so fuckin’ good for me, aren’t you darlin’?”

You writhed in his arms, accepting the brutal pace he’d set. His skin connected with yours over and over, a satisfying smack, smack, smack sound filling the air.

“J-Joel,” you sobbed. “Oh my fucking god, I-“ He cut you off, gripping your chin and swiftly tugging your face upward so he could see you, and then his mouth was crashing down on yours. He groaned into your mouth, tongue pressing against your lips to part them and then tangling against yours. His lips were soft and wet and you didn’t even care about the odd angle your neck was twisted at as you moaned into it. His thrusts didn’t let up for a second, even as you murmured desperate sounds against each other’s lips.

“C’mon,” he grunted into your mouth. “Give me another one.” His hand dropped to grip your neck, the sensation only heightening the feeling of him inside you. Liquid heat was spreading in your abdomen, curling through your veins, turning your entire body into jelly. His free hand drifted down your stomach and then his middle finger was dragging across your clit, and a harsh cry spilled from your mouth.

“Shit,” you gasped, face contorting as you felt yourself near your end. He was fucking everywhere, holding you against him by your neck, pounding into you while his fingers circled your clit roughly, and the coil in your stomach just snapped. You yelled his name, body tensing up as he pushed into you, wet squelching sounds filling the air as he fucked you through your orgasm.

“Say my name,” his voice urged in your ear, and you happily obliged, chanting his name like a mantra as he worked your body through it. Within a minute he was groaning frantically, and then he pulled out, and you could feel his come coating your back as he finished. You glanced over your shoulder to see him. His mouth was ajar, soft curses falling from his lips as he gripped his cock, angling it towards you as he painted your skin with his spend.

“Sorry,” he rushed out breathlessly, wide eyes meeting yours. His shoulders shook with the intensity of his orgasm, adrenaline pumping through his veins, and you smiled at the sight. But he looked concerned, eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you warily.

“For what?” you frowned softly, rolling forward onto your stomach to free his arm that was trapped underneath you. “What’s wrong?”

“Came on you,” he clarified. “Should’ve asked first.”

A grin split across your face and his eyes lit up when he saw it, face relaxing again. “Ever the gentleman,” you chuckled. “It’s fine Joel, it was hot.”

His body relaxed and he dropped down to rest on his back, looking at you with a soft, curious expression. “It was,” he agreed quietly.

For a moment the pair of you just laid there, gazing at each other in a moment of wonder, before you suddenly became aware of how much colder the room was now that it was over. You shivered slightly, lifting to sit on your knees. Joel’s eyes trailed over your exposed body, gazing at your breasts, and your stomach, before resting on your face again.

“I’m gonna shower, and then hit the road,” you told him, cringing at the prominent ache between your thighs as you stepped off the bed. You picked your clothes up off the chair in the corner and turned back to look at him. “I’ll see you tomorrow night right, dinner at Maria and Tommy’s?”

He was watching you in a daze, eyelids heavy with drowsiness, but he nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he drawled. “Dinner at Maria and Tommy’s.” His eyes suddenly widened and he rolled over, reaching underneath his pillow before revealing a piece of small dark fabric. Your underwear. He held them out in your direction.

“Keep them big guy,” you winked, and he laughed deeply, dropping them back onto the bed.

You padded towards the door, ready to pop into the bathroom and then head home, before a thought struck you. Resting your shoulder against the doorway you looked at him again, smiling at the sight of him lying naked and fucked out on the bed, eyes closed as he breathed deeply. He looked about as relieved as you felt.

“Hey Joel,” you said quietly, and his eyes flashed open, raising an eyebrow at you. “Between us, right? Probably best if we don’t tell anyone else this happened.”

He nodded once, smiling lazily. “Between us.”

part two

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