#think of them as father and son if you want. It's no skin off my nose

[unintentionalseductress]

Hi! I had a request if it's okay and I thought I'd send it to your inbox like you asked me to :))

The vision I kinda had for it was ultimately inspired by the fanart and now that I actually think about it, perhaps it's something like rafayel's an outlaw and she's the future queen or sm and they're having a secret affair and ultimately they're caught one day and so her father's furious cs like as you said in the Nanami one, she's supposed to be absolutely pure until marriage so when she's caught with Rafayel doing the dirty, it's absolutely js like 😨😡🤯 for her father, I didn't know how else to explain it srry 😭😭 but yh and so now her father's in a rush to marry her off without further embarrassment but then her and rafayel elope but they go through the deserts, like in the fanart, so nobody can chase after them and uh yh 😭 the only smut I envisioned would be at the beginning of it cs personally, I can't see them doing it in a hot and sandy desert 😖 so uh yh

But tyyy 🫶🫶🫶

-📚

Promised Sands

Warnings: MDNI, sex, angst, mentions of death and violence, reader experiences depression and thoughts of taking her own life briefly A/n: Book anon and I had a chat about this fic, and after getting more details, she said she wanted it loosely based off the Aladdin AU I wrote for Nanami . I am still writing the Zayne and Dawnbreaker fic but inspiration somehow found me and this ended up being written quite quickly. And this is only my second oneshot for Rafayel, like WHAT?! I don't write enough for him.

You sit miserably on your bed, staring out of the barred window at the silhouette of the city in the distance. The bars were a recent addition, placed to discourage you from trying to pull a Houdini a few days before your wedding. 

Your future in-laws were already at the palace, no doubt being shown the lavish grounds and amenities they could expect once their son officially became your husband. The thought made you sick to your stomach because you neither asked nor wanted this wedding. The setting sun cast long shadows across the palace grounds and painted the sky various shades of gold, tangerine, and magenta, and your mind couldn’t help but wander to last week, when you had been unburdened by the prospects of marriage and your heart had been full of love. 

You supposed you should have known better, but how was one expected to resist the natural pull of desires coming alive when your loved one was near? The longing of wanting to be tucked into their embrace, of feeling their lips on yours, and the press of your skin coming together as passions overflowed, the magic of it all glowing like embers from a fire, rising and disappearing into the air.

No one had suspected the Lemurian initially. It was well-known he was a gift to you, and that due to their unwavering loyalty bond, he would never be able to take advantage of you. But what the royal family hadn’t anticipated was that you would consent to being taken advantage of by the Lemurian.

Rafayel had been your steadfast companion for years, since you were a child and he had been presented to you on your birthday. And although you had given his freedom, he returned to visit regularly, bringing back gifts each time; bangles for your wrists, fancy hair ornaments, and little glass figurines that littered the small tables all around your room. No one had suspected that as both of you grew older, that you’d develop feelings for each other that went beyond master and servant. No one thought the princess with the blessed heart would choose him, someone that they had considered less than human, unfit to be your romantic companion in their eyes. But how wrong they had been, and when the king had discovered the extent of your affair, his wrath was terrifying. 

When Rafayel had been discovered in your bedchamber fully clothed, while you lay naked on the bed with nothing more than a bedsheet wrapped around you, the king had demanded his life as retribution. You had screamed, begged and pleaded, and the memory of the king’s look of disgust was burned in your mind as you kneeled at his feet, clutching the bedsheet like it was armor. It had taken 4 men to restrain Rafayel, and as they dragged him away, you could still hear his grunts of pain as the guards had kicked and punched him as they took him away to the jail underneath the palace. 

It had been a week since then, and you had trailed pathetically behind the king ever since, until he had coldly informed you that Rafayel had been beaten to death. There was no remorse in his tone, not even a slight offer of comfort. In the same deadpan voice, the king had informed you that your marriage to the prince of a neighboring kingdom had been arranged, and that no one needed to know you had been “ruined” before your wedding night.

Shortly after, he had hired some servants to put bars on all the windows in your bedchamber, and security constantly patrolled the wing where your living quarters were. It wasn’t necessary; you had lost the will to fight after learning about Rafayel’s demise. 

You cried, feeling like your heart was breaking into pieces, bleeding, yet cruelly refusing to stop beating. Why couldn’t it halt, just give out and end it all? You’d considered taking your own life, yet each time you eyed the small dagger that you’d hidden under your mattress, an overwhelming bond held you in place; perhaps your self-preservation instincts were too strong. And thus, you fell into a trance, a state of being on autopilot. Dutifully, you had presented yourself to the prince, had allowed your handmaidens to preen and fuss over you, dressing you in fine silks, painting your lips the reddest of reds and patting rouge onto your cheeks to give you the look of a blushing bride besotted with her betrothed.

Internally, you were screaming, but your body felt too exhausted to muster the energy to match the rage boiling inside you. You had looked in the mirror, not recognizing the reflection that stared back at you. There were bags under your eyes, a grief-stricken droop in your posture, yet all your ladies in waiting tittered on about how beautiful you looked, and that once you were married you’d have more dresses than your wardrobe could accommodate. You felt ashamed. If any other person had been as close to you as Rafayel had, you’d be wearing the standard black gown that signified mourning. It felt like a smear on Rafayel’s memory that you were lamenting his loss so keenly, yet unable to show it in your attire. 

Now with two days left to your wedding, you had resigned to your fate. Dusk had fallen, yet you can hear the cacophony of voices from the balcony. A pre-weddng celebration. Delicious smells wafted into your bedchamber, accompanied by the sounds of laughter and music. Everyone was celebrating your upcoming nuptials except you. Your handmaiden had attempted to get you dressed for the evening but you had been so uncooperative and listless that she’d given up, settling for the reassurance that at least you weren’t trying to escape anymore. 

Suddenly, your stomach roiled, feelings of deep disgust welling up inside you and bubbling out like molten lava. You slammed all the windows shut, making no effort to hide your disdain for the sham of a welcoming party the king had put together for your supposed fiancé. You locked the door and began to tear apart everything in the room. You knocked over lamps unflinchingly as the delicate glass shattered onto the floor. You threw the fairytale books from their shelves, ripping out pages from some of them, tearing the pretty illustrations depicting princes and princesses getting their happy ending. You dipped your calligraphy brushes into various pots of ink and dragged them along the walls, haphazardly stroking chaotic lines of color into the walls. And you screamed all the while this happened. Tears flowed unrestrainedly down your cheeks. If they refused to let you honor him quietly in black, then you’d do it loudly, in the most violent shades you could find. 

This was your grief. It was not theirs to control, and you felt the dam of emotions you had been holding back come flooding through. You allowed yourself to remember everything; nights spent on the balcony whispering your fears and secrets to him, using little henna cones to trace patterns onto his hands, and letting him do the same for you, marveling at how much bigger they were than yours, with those long, slender fingers. You remembered the softness of his hair and how the wind messed up his bangs and how his eyes turned into the most breathtaking shade of lilac as the sun caught them. The way his eyelashes rested like fans on his cheeks while he was sleeping, and the gentleness of his lips as he kissed you. 

You didn’t care about the purity laws. You had done nothing impure, nothing worthy of the scorn the king had been giving you the past few days. What was revolting was the way everyone else was behaving, acting nonchalant like your childhood companion hadn’t been beaten to death within the very walls of this palace you had called home. So you kicked, your voice calling out his name like a wild animal, holding yourself to prevent your being from falling apart at the seams, your fingernails leaving little bloody marks in your sides as you did so. 

When the rage finally quieted down, the room was in shambles. It brought you a great sense of satisfaction, your throat raw from your lamenting. Exhausted, you collapsed on the bed, and the anguish turned quiet. You could feel it still crawling under your skin but the cathartic destruction of your bedchamber had dulled it. 

You knew you’d never love the man who was to be your husband. How were you to sleep with this man? This person who hadn’t even questioned the circumstances under which this marriage had been proposed? 

Shivering from the adrenaline withdrawal, you bury your face into your pillow, desperately recalling all the times Rafayel had made love to you. Your hands start to wander, softly touching yourself, cupping your breasts, and sighing as your fingers wandered to the space between your legs.

Rafayel’s lips were cool against the heat of your bare skin. You were blushing from your lack of experience. There’s a playful mischievousness in his eyes as he trailed kisses down the column of your neck, coming to the valley between your breasts.

“Is your highness pleased?” He had teased, looking up at you slyly, enjoying the way your cheeks turned pink. You had averted your gaze, trying not to make it obvious how much he was affecting you, which had only amused him. 

“It pleases me when you’re pleased, ya know?” His mouth had closed over a pert nipple, suckling with the perfect pressure that had made you whimper needily, feeling moisture gathering in your core. Heat gathered in your belly and your toes kept curling into the sheets as he pleasured you. 

When you dared to look at him again, his eyes glittered with dark desire. 

“Tell me my lady,” he had whispered as he’d pushed your knees apart to settle in between them. “Are you in need of my services? All you need to do is ask.”

Your breath had caught in your throat as his fingers gently spread your wet lips apart, revealing the little engorged bud in between them. Rafayel’s tongue gave it a wet lick and your back had arched in pleasure, a wanton noise escaping you. You had waited for him to continue but when you felt nothing, your eyes cracked open for a second only to see him gazing intently at you.

“I await your command my princess,” he had said patiently even though desire was eating away at him. 

“Rafayel, please,” you had gasped. “I’m yours.” 

Relief had flooded your system as his tongue found purchase between your folds, his spit gathering onto the swollen membranes as he tasted you. Your body felt like it was in heaven, becoming lighter and alive under his ministrations. The room had filled with the lewd, moist noises of his tongue lapping away at your slick folds, sucking your clit with care until your mind was a mess of hot need. You had struggled to reach the peak, almost losing concentration until Rafayel’s hand had reassuringly held yours and your fingers had interlaced with his.

The thoughtful gesture had been the thing needed for you to find the courage to tip into the abyss of desire where all that existed was him and the desires of your own body. You felt all the senses leave you as you orgasmed, your clit spasming in ecstasy as your hole fluttered in urgent need. Your thighs trembled and you moaned his name as he licked through the aftershocks. 

After every last drop of your pleasure had been drawn, he’d held you against him, helping you come down from the intensity of the high. You could feel his erection pressing hotly against your thigh, barely contained by the thin fabric of his underwear. Boldly, your hand had slipped into it, grasping his length and stroking, drawing a hiss from him. 

“Impatient princess?” he had asked with a lilt, trying to fluster you again, but his teeth were gritted at how good your small hand felt on his cock. He’d guided you, showing you how to hold him, how much pressure he liked, and once you’d mastered the movements, he’d allowed himself a brief moment of indulgence, surprising you when he stilled your hand.

“I won’t last long if you keep this up.” His hand brushed your cheek and he’d kissed you before rolling you under him. 

“I promise this won’t hurt too much.”

Your body tensed when you felt his thick, rounded head probe your entrance, carefully notching into the tight space.

“Don’t worry.” Rafayel snuggled your body close to his, peppering your face with little kisses. “I’ve got you. Just keep breathing. Nice and deep.” His hands cushioned behind the back of your head and you trained your eye to focus on the fine ring of inky black that surrounded his mesmerizing irises. Your body stretched around him, the tightness almost unbearably painful, and Rafayel had paused several times to let you adjust, gently sheathing himself inch by inch, kissing away your tears. He’d stilled when he had finally bottomed out, and you realized your body no longer felt like it was being split apart. You let out the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in, and everything inside you changed.

Rafayel gave a testing roll of his hips and when you clung to him moaning, he’d picked up the pace, thrusting into you, merging your bodies into one. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist and you held on tight as he pushed into new realms of discovery. 

You withdraw your sticky fingers from your cunt, skin slick with sweat, glowing with the effort of giving yourself that orgasm. They could marry you off, tell the world whatever they wanted, but they couldn’t take away what Rafayel had shown you. You would play the obedient, meek, little princess for now. But someday, you didn’t know when, you would leave. You would find a way to escape from this gilded cage, and never look back. 

This newly found resolve calms you, and you manage to fall into a fatigued sleep. 

𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝⋆｡˚ 𓇼

There’s a tapping noise on the glass of your window, and you awaken abruptly, eyes blinking to adjust the darkness of the night. You find your heartbeat quickening as you spy a shadowy figure lurking outside the glass. Who had managed to get up there? You glance around your room for a weapon, then freeze when an achingly familiar voice calls, muffled through the closed window.

“Open up!”

You blink, looking wildly at the blurred stranger. It couldn’t be. He was dead. You scramble to your feet, trying to calm your frazzled nerves. 

A ghost? Had he come to say goodbye? 

With a trembling hand, you reach out to undo the lock, not daring to breathe as a tall man dressed in black leather pulls out a strange looking tool, cutting the iron bars in one go before swiftly entering your room. 

“Rafayel?” Your voice is unsteady. You can tell he’s injured. His wrist had been splinted and his beautiful face bore bruises. 

“Yeah, who else did you think it was?”

“They told me you were dead!” The words were a broken whisper.

“What, did you think I’m that easy to kill?” Rafayel tries to smile but his lips bear a half-healed cut and he winces as he does so. “Princess, I could never die so easily. Didn’t I promise that I’d get you out of here someday?”

Your heart was beating wildly in your chest. Needing confirmation that he was indeed whole and human, you cup his uninjured cheek with an unsteady hand, feeling the heat of his skin, and the soft expulsion of air as it left his nostrils. Rafayel’s eyes soften, and he pulls you into a tight hug, reassuringly patting your hair. 

“I’m here my love.” He presses a kiss to your hair. “But we have to move. Quickly. My comrades said they’d keep watch, but it won’t be long until they give the signal. We need to leave as soon as they do so.” 

He looks around the room, inspecting the havoc. “What happened here?” 

You manage a watery smile, dashing away a tear. “A funeral.” 

No sooner had you said the word than a sudden flash of light burst into the sky. Peering outside the window, you see it ascend into the sky, before exploding like a firecracker, the lights arranging themselves to form a fishtail. Screams erupted from the palace grounds which had otherwise been peaceful.

“We’re under attack! Call the guards!” Voices echoed from the din, panic setting in amongst the citizens. 

“That’s our cue.” Rafayel looks at you and there’s a hint of uncertainty in them. “Unless you’d rather stay?”

“Never.” You quickly tiptoe to plant a kiss on Rafayel’s lips. He’s startled for a brief moment, then breaks into a wide grin. 

“Time to go my beautiful bride.” 

He takes your hand and helps you out onto the narrow ledge of the window. It was pitch black outside, the fishtail signal’s brightness engulfing all the stars glimmering in the background. 

“We jump.” He holds your hand firmly. “One, two, three!”

You wisely hold in your scream as you leap off the edge with cold nothing underneath your feet, plummeting a few feet before you suddenly bob up into the air. Looking down, you realize you’re standing on something soft and fluid. A flapping noise can be heard as whatever it is rises into the clouds and whisks you away from the palace. Night air wipes your hair as Rafayel holds you tightly to his side. 

Once you begin to sail through an unbroken patch of moonlight, you glance down to see your vehicle was a giant manta ray, its flat, pancake-like membranes lazily undulating in the sky as it carried you into unknown lands. 

Rafayel helps you sit on the massive creature’s back and joins you, protectively pulling you against him to shield you from the wind. You glance up at him. 

“So you heard about the wedding then.” You probe and Rafayel nods, but you notice a flicker of rage in his eyes when you brought it up. Hastily, you add, “I’m sorry. I know you probably don’t want to talk about it. I only asked because you called me a ‘beautiful bride’.”

He turns to look at you, lowering his hood as he does so. “If I recall, I called you my beautiful bride.” The intensity of his gaze makes you blush and you quickly avert your eyes to the starry sky. 

“What do you mean?” you ask shyly, then your breath catches in your throat as Rafayel digs into an inner pocket of his garb and pulls out a ring of gold, with a large sapphire set in the middle. 

“My beautiful bride,” he repeats, and wordlessly slips the ring onto your finger. You look at it with tears in your eyes, then sniff as you’re pulled into his loving embrace. It was almost presumptuous of him not to ask, but wholly unnecessary in your opinion. You didn’t want to be anyone else’s but his. 

Very little was said for the rest of the journey, but words weren’t needed. You knew there would be plenty to talk about once you got off this ride, once you were presented to Rafayel’s entourage, wherever they were. Instead you settled for the knowledge that he was alive, and that you were free from the expectations of the palace. 

It was uncertain how much time had passed, but the manta ray began to descend, the air growing warmer as it got lower to the ground, casting a long shadow as it did so. You look around and sense the dry quality of the air, seeing the sand dunes that were everywhere and realize you were in the middle of the desert. The area was still and quiet as your ride landed with a soft thump on the sand. You and Rafayel disembark, and the creature vanishes into thin air. 

“Where-?”

“Back to the sea. A god never forces a creature of the deep to remain on land for too long.” 

You glance around and squint, seeing silhouettes in the distance that seem to be heading your way. 

“That’s our party. Right on time.” Rafayel offers his hand to you, smiling.

“Let’s go say hi. I want to properly introduce them to the future queen of Lemuria.”

Your heart swells with affection, remembering all the times you’d talked about marrying him, about being completely his for all of time. Holding onto his entwined fingers, you take your first step into a life of beautiful freedom. 

© unintentionalseductress original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

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[lilangelbud]

Could you please do a 4-some with mom dad son and daughter? I’m in the mood for mom-son and dad-daughter but all together

family entanglement coming right up! (used a bit of a different writing style for this one. Hope you enjoy it!) ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

The living room was bathed in the dim glow of the setting sun, casting long shadows across the plush carpet. The air was heavy with the scent of wine and something else—something electric, unspoken. The mother sat on the couch, her legs curled beneath her, a glass of red wine perched delicately in her hand. The father lounged in his armchair, his eyes flicking between his wife and his daughter, who stood by the window, her slender silhouette framed by the fading light.

The daughter—lithe, with hair that fell like a silk curtain down her back—turned to face her father, her lips curving into a mischievous smile. “Dad,” she said, her voice low and teasing, “you’re staring again.”

He raised an eyebrow, his fingers twitching as if they longed to tangle in her hair. “Can’t help it,” he replied, his voice a low rumble. “You’re hard to look away from.”

The mother set her wine glass down with a soft clink, her gaze sharp as it darted between them. “Careful,” she murmured, her tone laced with something unspoken. “You two are playing with fire.”

The daughter laughed, a sound that was both light and dangerous. “Fire’s always been my favorite element,” she said, stepping closer to her father. Her hips swayed with each step, her movements deliberate, calculated. She stopped just inches from him, her breath warm against his ear as she whispered, “Isn’t it yours, Daddy?”

The father’s hand shot up, his fingers threading through her hair as he pulled her closer. “You’re testing me,” he growled, his voice thick with desire. “And you know what happens when you test me.”

The mother’s eyes darkened as she watched them, her own desires stirring beneath the surface. She rose from the couch, her dress clinging to her curves as she crossed the room. “Enough,” she said, though there was no bite in her words. “If we’re going to do this, we’re doing it together.”

The daughter glanced over her shoulder, her smile widening. “Mom,” she purred, “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

The mother’s lips curved into a sly smile as she reached out, her hand brushing against her daughter’s cheek before trailing down to her neck. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” she said, her voice a sultry whisper. “But you’re about to find out.”

The father watched them, his heart pounding in his chest. This was wrong—so wrong—and yet, it felt so right. His hand tightened in his daughter’s hair as he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a kiss that was both tender and demanding. She responded eagerly, her hands tangling in his shirt as she pressed herself against him.

The mother stepped closer, her fingers sliding down her daughter’s back as she leaned in to kiss her husband. The taste of wine still lingered on her lips, intoxicating and sweet. She deepened the kiss, her tongue teasing his as her hands roamed over his chest.

The daughter broke the kiss, her breath coming in short gasps as she looked between her parents. “This is…” she began, but her words trailed off as her father’s hand slid down her side, his fingers brushing against the curve of her hip.

“This is what we’ve all wanted,” the father finished, his voice rough and low. “And we’re not stopping now.”

The mother nodded, her eyes dark with desire as she reached for her daughter’s hand. “Together,” she said, her voice firm despite the tremor of excitement that ran through her. “We’ll do this together.”

The daughter hesitated for a moment, her heart racing as she looked between her parents. Then, with a slow, deliberate nod, she stepped back, her hands moving to the hem of her dress. She pulled it over her head in one smooth motion, revealing the smooth, pale skin beneath.

The father’s breath caught in his throat as he took her in, her slender frame illuminated by the fading light. His hands itched to touch her, to explore every inch of her. He stood, his own clothes falling to the floor as he stepped closer, his chest pressing against hers as he kissed her again.

The mother watched them, her own desire burning hotter with each passing moment. She reached for the zipper of her dress, pulling it down slowly, her eyes never leaving her husband and daughter. The fabric pooled at her feet, revealing the tight, toned body that still turned heads even after all these years.

She stepped closer, her hands sliding over her daughter’s shoulders as she pressed her lips to the back of her neck. The daughter shivered, her breath hitching as her mother’s hands moved down her body, her fingers tracing the curve of her breasts.

The father groaned, his hands gripping his daughter’s hips as he pulled her closer, his arousal pressing against her. He looked at his wife over their daughter’s shoulder, his eyes dark with need. “Together,” he repeated, his voice a low growl. “All of us.”

The mother nodded, her lips curving into a smile as she stepped around to face her husband. She kissed him deeply, her hands moving over his chest, his shoulders, his arms. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, she sank to her knees before him, her eyes locked on his as she took him into her mouth.

The daughter watched them, her heart pounding as she felt her father’s hands tighten on her hips. She turned to face him, her lips curving into a sly smile as she reached for him, her fingers wrapping around his length. “Daddy,” she whispered, her voice a sultry purr, “let me take care of you.”

The father groaned, his head falling back as his daughter’s hand moved over him, her touch sending sparks of pleasure through his body. He reached for her, his hands tangling in her hair as he pulled her closer, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that was both desperate and tender.

The mother looked up at them, her lips still wrapped around her husband as her hands moved to her daughter’s hips. She pulled her closer, her mouth leaving her husband’s length as she pressed her lips to her daughter’s stomach, her kisses trailing lower and lower.

The daughter gasped, her hands tightening on her father as she felt her mother’s lips between her legs. “Mommy,” she breathed, her voice trembling with need. “Oh, god, Mom…”

The father watched them, his heart pounding as he saw his wife’s head moving between his daughter’s legs. He reached for his wife, his fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her back, his lips crashing against hers in a kiss that was all teeth and desperation.

The daughter stumbled back, her chest heaving as she looked between her parents. “I want more,” she said, her voice trembling with need. “I want all of you.”

The father nodded, his eyes dark with desire as he stepped closer, his hands gripping her hips as he lifted her onto the edge of the couch. He positioned himself between her legs, his arousal pressing against her as he looked down at her, his breath coming in short gasps.

The mother moved behind him, her hands sliding over his back as she pressed herself against him, her lips brushing against his ear. “Take her,” she whispered, her voice low and sultry. “She’s yours.”

The father groaned, his hands tightening on his daughter’s hips as he pushed himself into her, his body shuddering at the feeling of her tight warmth around him. The daughter gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders as she arched against him, her body craving more.

The mother watched them, her own desire burning hotter as she saw her husband moving inside their daughter. She stepped closer, her hands sliding over her daughter’s breasts as she leaned in to kiss her, her lips claiming hers in a kiss that was both possessive and tender.

The father groaned, his thrusts growing more urgent as he felt his wife’s hands on his daughter, her lips claiming hers. He reached for his wife, his fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her closer, his lips crashing against hers in a kiss that was all teeth and desperation.

The daughter gasped, her nails digging into her father’s shoulders as she felt him moving inside her, her mother’s hands on her breasts, her lips claiming hers. She arched against him, her body trembling with pleasure as she felt herself getting closer, closer, closer…

“Mommy,” she gasped, her voice trembling with need. “Daddy… I’m so close…”

The mother smiled, her hands moving down her daughter’s body as she pressed her lips to her ear. “Let go,” she whispered, her voice low and sultry. “We’re here with you. Let go.”

The daughter gasped, her body shuddering as she felt herself tipping over the edge, her pleasure crashing over her in waves. She cried out, her nails digging into her father’s shoulders as she arched against him, her body trembling with pleasure.

The father groaned, his thrusts growing more urgent as he felt his daughter clenching around him. He reached for his wife, his fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her closer, his lips crashing against hers in a kiss that was all teeth and desperation.

The mother watched them, her own desire burning hotter as she saw her husband and daughter coming together. She stepped closer, her hands sliding over her daughter’s body as she pressed herself against her husband, her lips brushing against his ear. “Take her,” she whispered, her voice low and sultry.

The father groaned, his hands tightening on his daughter’s hips as he thrust into her one last time, his body shuddering as he spilled himself inside her. He leaned over her, his breath coming in short gasps as he looked down at her, his heart pounding in his chest.

The daughter gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders as she felt him moving inside her, her body trembling with pleasure as she felt herself getting closer, closer, closer…

---

The living room was thick with the scent of sweat and desire, the air electric with the kind of tension that could only come from crossing lines that had long been drawn in the sand. The father was still catching his breath, his chest rising and falling as he leaned over his daughter, her body still trembling beneath him. The mother stood close, her fingers trailing down her husband’s back, her lips curving into a satisfied smile as she watched them.

But then, a creak from the doorway broke the silence.

All three turned their heads to see the son standing there, his eyes wide with shock—and something else. Something darker, more primal. He’d been drawn to the sounds, curious and unable to resist. Now, he was frozen in place, his gaze flickering between his parents and his sister, his heart pounding in his chest.

The mother was the first to break the silence. Her voice was low, almost teasing, as she spoke. “Come here,” she said, her eyes locking onto her son’s. There was a challenge in her tone, a dare. The son hesitated, his hands clenching at his sides, but then he took a step forward. And then another. And another.

The daughter turned her head to look at her brother, her breath still uneven, her cheeks flushed. “Join us, big bro” she whispered, her voice husky with need. The son’s eyes darkened, his body responding to her words even before he could process them. He moved closer, his hands twitching as though he wanted to reach out and touch but wasn’t sure where to start.

The father straightened, his eyes narrowing as he looked at his son. There was a flicker of something in his gaze—competition, maybe, or approval. He stepped back from his daughter, giving his son room to approach. “She’s yours,” he said, his voice rough with something that wasn’t quite a command but wasn’t a suggestion either.

The son’s breath hitched as he looked down at his sister, her body still glistening with sweat, her lips swollen from their father’s kisses. He reached out, his fingers trembling as he brushed a strand of hair from her face. The daughter looked up at him, her eyes heavy with need, her lips parting as if to speak. But before she could say anything, the son leaned down and captured her mouth with his.

The kiss was hesitant at first, tentative, as though they were both testing the waters. But then the daughter let out a soft moan, her hands reaching up to tangle in his hair, and the son’s restraint shattered. He kissed her deeply, his hands roaming over her body as though he couldn’t get enough of her.

The mother watched them, her lips curving into a smile as she stepped closer to her husband. Her hands slid over his chest, her fingers tracing the lines of his muscles as she pressed herself against him. “Does it excite you?” she whispered, her breath hot against his ear. “Watching them together?”

The father groaned, his hands gripping her hips as he pulled her closer. “You know it does,” he growled, his lips crashing against hers in a kiss that was all hunger and possession.

Meanwhile, the son’s hands were exploring his sister’s body with a kind of desperate urgency, as though he was afraid she might disappear if he stopped touching her. His fingers slid between her thighs, and she gasped, her body arching against his. “Please,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need.

The son didn’t need to be told twice. He lifted her in his arms, carrying her to the couch and laying her down gently. He knelt between her legs, his hands sliding up her thighs as he leaned down to kiss her again. This time, the kiss was deeper, more possessive, as though he was claiming her in a way he’d never dared to before.

The father and mother watched them, their own desire growing hotter as they saw their children coming together. The mother reached down, her fingers trailing over her husband’s length, and he groaned, his hands tightening on her hips. “Take me,” she whispered, her voice low and sultry.

The father didn’t hesitate. He turned her around, pressing her against the back of the couch as he lifted her dress. She let out a soft moan as he slid into her from behind, his hands gripping her hips as he thrust into her with a kind of desperation that made her knees weak.

The room was filled with the sounds of their pleasure, mingling together in a symphony of need and desire. The mother’s moans were soft and breathy, her back arching as she pressed herself against her husband. The daughter’s cries were louder, more urgent, as her brother’s mouth and hands worked her body with a kind of hunger that left her trembling.

The son’s tongue swirled around her clit, his hands gripping her hips as he devoured her. The daughter’s hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as she cried out. “Oh God, yes,” she moaned, her body shaking with pleasure as she felt herself getting closer, closer, closer…

The father’s thrusts grew more urgent, his hands tightening on his wife’s hips as he felt his own climax building. He leaned over her, his breath hot against her ear as he whispered, “You’re mine.”

The mother shuddered, her body trembling with pleasure as she felt him moving inside her. Her eyes fluttered shut, her lips parting in a silent scream as she came, her body clenching around him.

The son felt his sister’s body tighten around him, her cries growing louder as she came, her nails digging into his shoulders. He didn’t stop, his tongue and fingers working her until she was trembling with aftershocks, her body writhing beneath him.

The father groaned, his thrusts growing more urgent as he felt his own climax approaching. He leaned over his wife, his breath coming in short gasps as he whispered, “Come for me.”

The mother shuddered, her body trembling with pleasure as she came again, her nails digging into the couch. The father groaned, his thrusts growing more urgent as he spilled himself inside her, his body shuddering with release.

The son finally pulled back, his breath coming in short gasps as he looked down at his sister, her body still trembling with pleasure. He leaned down, his lips brushing against hers in a kiss that was soft and tender, a stark contrast to the hunger of before.

The father stepped back from his wife, his hands sliding over her body as he whispered, “You’re so beautiful.”

The mother turned to look at him, her lips curving into a smile as she reached up to brush a strand of hair from his face. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she teased, her voice low and sultry.

The daughter reached up to pull her brother closer, her lips brushing against his as she whispered, “Don’t stop.”

The son groaned, his hands tightening on her hips as he leaned down to kiss her again, his body responding to her words even before he could process them.

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

The Art of Torture

(Aemond x oc/reader)

Concept: Aemond takes your home town.

CW: parental abuse, sex, titty sucking, incest, rape (not oc/aemond) childbirth, forced adoption, blood, gore, extreme descriptions of extreme gore and blood. torture. Murder, blood licking, tasting, tons of blood. Murder of innocents. Smut. Sex. loss of virginty, Aemond's sexual trauma, Aemond's eye trauma. Aemond being an idiot. I love forshadowing. Pay close attention.

There is more to torture than just killing. Torture, is an artform in a way. Only those with the right skills should perform it. Torture is breaking into someone's mind, understanding their thoughts, their fears and swaying them into trusting the enemy. An art on its own. Lost to most. You, you have been raised by the cruelest man alive. Brutus Bolton, your own father. And now, the gods, fate, destiny, however you want to call it: Has caught up with him at long last. And soon, your story will change.

The smell of blood hangs heavy in the air, choking the oxygen out of it. Aemond Targaryen’s long legs strut through the muddy snow, as he and his men look around for any survivors who can tell them where that coward fled to. It’s humiliating. 

Aemond wipes his brow, putting a loose hair behind his ear, as he tightens his braid, barely keeping his locks together. Everywhere he looks, he sees dead corpses lying in the snow, their throats slit or heads removed.  I’m not his dog.

A soldier runs past Aemond, barely paying him any mind, running off with a captured screaming, crying woman. They don’t respect me. He doesn’t respect me. I’ll never not be a shadow.

Screams, cries, begs, grunts, moans, all noise for Gods who do not listen. Prayers and begs for mercy that gods don’t have. A typical and yet unheard of war scene where Aemond’s troops play the main role. What did I do, but what was expected of me?

He would normally be disgusted by the behaviour of his soldiers. But today, today he does not care. He cannot bring himself to care about the life of the smallfolk on a regular basis. Today, they truly cross paths on an awful day. Let them rot in the deepest, seventh hell.

Prince Aemond had returned, carrying Lucery’s eyes with him. He offered the eyes to the Queen Dowager, his own mother. She slapped them out of his hands, cursing his name and embarrassed him in front of his brother’s court. Aegon agreed that Aemond had talents better suited elsewhere and now he’s up in the ‘’frozen shithole’’ as he calls it, capturing traitors no one truly gives a fuck about. Who cares what Brutus Bolton or his deranged sons are up to? They’re Boltons. They’re not Starks, they’re not Lannisters. Aemond being used to capture petty thieves is an insult that grazes and cuts him deeply. 

A little girl runs away from a home he passes, tripping over a corpse on her way to freedom. Aemond watches as the soldier catches up to her, slamming the axe on the back of her head. The axe hits so deep, that Aemond can hear how it leaves her skin and hits the stones of the road. At least, he thinks he did. He might be imagining it. 

One of the soldiers becomes a little bit uneasy, at this child dying. Aemond finds it strange. Why does a child matter above a adult? Is this some hypcrosim he’s too noble to understand? Or some matter of humanity he’s too dead inside to get?

One of his soldiers stares at the murdered girl. ‘’My Prince,’’ he falls before Aemond. Aemond feels the urge to kick him with his boots but resists the tempting urge for now. He knows this man. Lewin. Lewis? Lendry? Luckey?

The man reminds Aemond of his name. ‘’Aeron, my prince.’’ Ah. Not even close, oh well.

He does not like that name. ‘’You have something to say, Aeron?’’ 

Aeron seems to understand what a terrible mood Aemond is, and hesitates. But he does speak up to his Prince. ‘’I do. I know the Boltons offended you in great ways, but surely…This village belongs to the Starks. We should not loot, rape, pillage, and destory. We should only punish the Boltons.’’ The Prince laughs, barking with laughter at that idotic request. So he’s one of those fools.

Aemond leans in closer, staring at the woven small wooden beads the man wears. ‘’You think if the roles were reversed, they would think twice about raping your little sister in her maiden cunny? I have seen your sister. She’d be luckily if they slit her throat afterwards.’’ He waits to break eye contact to make sure the message is received. He pats his sword after.

‘’Either way you walk on, or you get on your knees and I’ll kill you for deserting. Your choice but make it fast. I’ve got other things to do.’’

As suspected, Aeron does not kneel and walks on, a lot paler than before. He reaches a strange house in the village. No warmth comes from it. No fire is burning inside. Who in their right minds-

‘’The Boltons have run. Can we now go join the others?’’ One of the other men asks Aemond, whining as a brat. Aemond looks at his face, filled with red spots, his crooked nose and his rotting teeth. Of course he would want to rape a woman. There’s no woman who would even touch that with a ten feet pole.  ‘’King Aegon promised us rewards.’’ That’s when Aemond snaps. 

Aegon is not here. He is. Aegon is laying in his bed, sleeping, warm, comfortable, when he’s out here, freezing, walking with blisters, wearing swords and daggers and protecting the kingdom, doing his duty when Aegon puts another bastard in some whore.

He does not warn the soldier. He just smacks him on the back of his head. ‘’You want to join your fellow soldiers? You can choose. You can join them into raping these whores after we are finally done, or you can join them in the afterlife after I’ve impaled your throat. Your choice.’’

‘’What a butch of men. Half of you are cowards, others of you would be better off at the wall.’’

And what does that say about Aegon? Either he didn’t know…

Or worse.

Aegon didn’t care to send good men with Aemond. Aegon wanted Aemond humbled, humiliated. Well, it looks like he’ll get his wish granted.

Aemond and his men pass the house, not paying any mind. Until Aemond hears a soft little noise that would go unnoticed for most inside the house. A very subtle breathe. Someone releasing their breath. He takes his sword out, and kicks the door open of the house. The door has been rotting from within, worms and other vermin greet Aemond as they slither and crawl outside, paying no mind to him or his men.

He pushes through, ignoring the darkness. The entire cottage is dark, said for the middle of the room, where a corpse is surrounded by four small candles. A young woman sits by the corpse, wearing a grey sack that barely suits her beautiful roundings. Aemond keeps the sword nearby, but does not bother to attack. It looks like he found Brutus Bolton, at long last. ‘’Who is that corpse?’’ Aemond asks.

One of the soldiers sets a step closer, but not too much. They seem to fear the woman. ‘’It’s Brutus. That must be his bastard. His daughter.’’ He says. ‘’We found no traces of her brothers. Maybe she knows where they went.’’ Aemond’s mouth makes a disapproving line when he hears the word bastard. But that does mean, she likely won’t have a husband. Her brothers fled, and her father is dead. She’ll comply, make a lovely hostage and if need be some company for the road. 

You hear footsteps approaching, and via the broken glazing plate you put by the counters of the kitchen, you can see the fearsome prince approaching you. You keep your head down, your body shaking as you look at your father’s corpse. Your hands red, stained with blood after hugging him after the unspeakable crimes committed upon him. You repeat the same prayer over and over. The knife is just a reach away. The knife that was used to murder him. Your hands are stained with patterns and prints of sin, death, murder. Crimson drips from your fingertips as you clutch your dress, leaving bloody prints.

The Prince seems to halt in his cold approach. He sees you the way a man sees a woman. He sees you weak. He sees an orphan girl, now at the mercy of a group of killers. He sees a deer lured into the wolf’s den. You allow him to approach closer.

He does pity her. She has a lovely face, said for a ugly scar by her throat. He wonders how she got it. She smells horrible. Like death and rot. But he does not care. He will have his answers. 

You scootch forward, ignoring the prince that was ready to put his hand on your shoulder, to alart you of his presence. Your father’s eyes are wide, and open, staring at the rotting ceiling.

His eyes describe horrors, Aemond notices right away when inspecting the corpse. Whatever killed him, it was gruesome. It was merciless and it was deadly. He smiles at the corpse. Whoever killed him, will be granted a reward. ‘’Find me who killed this fuck. They will be rewarded.’’ Aemond says, instantly. The soldier rushes off to spread his word, while the other four share confused looks. All but one.

The ugly soldier steps forward, and Aemond takes two step to protect his own nose. ‘’I killed him.’’ The ugly soldier says. Aemond does not even respond to that idiot. ‘’My Prince? I claim this girl as my reward…’’ He walks to the weeping girl. Aemond’s head bends in their direction. 

You shriek, backing away from the smelling soldier. You smelled some corpses in your life. Saw some rats. Lived in a room filled where hounds live. But none of it smelled as he did. You just don’t want to be near his smell. ‘’How did you kill him, you were with me the entire time, you idiot. That girl is my only lead. You’ll let her be or I’ll have your head.’’ Your eyes sparkle at that threat, smiling at the prince. He does not return your smile, ignoring your thankfulness. 

You think it’s time to let him now know. You played with them long enough.

You clutch your father’s dead corpse, and bend your head on his chest.  You open your mouth and instead of weeping…

A horrifying, disturbing, unworldly, and utterly terrifying sharp chuckles of pure joy escape you as you clap your bloodied hands in delight. The soldier that wanted to rape you earlier now quickly puts his tiny cock away, staring at you in shock. You don't even acknowledge him. You begin to tear and break the bones of your father, putting the knife in his skin as you pry loose bones and skin alike.

The Prince sets a step towards you, intrigued by what you are doing. Aeron, horrified, hides behind his commander, the Prince. He never saw such bloodthrist. “Good gods-” one of his men begins to mutter but Aemond silences his wordlessly, his eye resting upon the youngest Bolton as you begin to remove the skin of your victim. Your father. 

He watches with his breath as you remove the one after the other piece of skin; first timid and gentle, small pieces but eventually you learn what is in your blood, one way or another. The flesh tears loose and you rips it from the skin, flaying him fully. You release a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding. You always pictured this moment, every time he beat you, every time he starved or hurt you: You pictured this moment. And now, now it’s here. You revel in his blood, smearing it over your face and body as a cry of happiness.

You revel in the delight and the blood as you happily lick off your fingers and hands, staring at the Prince as he clears his throat interrupting you. “That man was to be my hostage.” he informs you, staring at you.

You need to take a closer look at him. So you do. You stand up, your grey dress following you around because it's so big. You tilt your head at the strange man. Studying his hair and his lovely scar. You never saw a Valyrian. He seems surprised by your length as most men are. 

Women are not supposed to be tall. Women are supposed to be fragile, weak, small, tiny and to be easily mastered. It is unlike their nature to assume that even the tiniest woman can reach up to grab a crown. And that even the largest woman can be seductive. 

He has to admit to himself, you have a pretty face. A face too pretty to be wasted on some Northern savage. “You're the Prince.” You say, your head tilted sideways, your eyes and brows betraying that you found his approach confusing. “Have I done something wrong? I thought you ordered the death of the traitor.” You let out another harrowing cackle, patting your father’s skull, stroking it as if it is a mere flower. “He will look so lovely when the crows pick his eyeballs out.” you fantasies out loud, sharing your disturbing fantasies with the Prince.

She stares at the ugly soldier, licking blood off her thumb that she did not quite reach the first time. ‘’And you, you wanted to claim my kill. Quite rude.’’ Aemond ignores confusing feelings as he stares at you lick blood. He is supposed to be repelled. Why isn’t he? Why does he find her…pretty?

You smile, offering the prince your father’s skull. ‘’Your skull, my Prince.’’ You make a clumsy curtsy that fails miserably. ‘’I’m afraid the rest of his body is not for you. I have my own plans with it. But you can show your brother that you did a excellent job, here in the North.’’ You think back of all the delicious cries and screams you heard earlier, and chuckle. They were never friends.

Aemond inspects the skull, or the head, rather, and nods, giving it to a very disgusted Aeron. ‘’Now I need to figure out what I’ll do with you.’’ Aemond says, hoping the girl offers him some options. He has a few things in mind. She smiles. ‘’My men are quite lonely.’’

You snort with laughter, so hard that you sound as a pig. Aemond’s mask of stoic seems to break as a slow smile appears. ‘’Your men are little boys and cowards. I would not call them ‘Men’.’’ You say, turning around to collect your dagger. ‘’I do have one suggestion. You can take it or leave it. But I bet you want my brothers too, don’t you, Prince Aemond One Eye?’’ You smile, staring at the lovely detailed scar. He scowls, offended you brought up his scar. You reassure him by walking around him, giving him a flirty smile. ‘’I always thought every man should have scars, each for every victory they fought. And I heard, you are quite the victorious man. Or did I misheard?’’

Aeron does not trust this strange woman. He does not like how half of the crew is afraid and Aemond is hanging on her lips. ‘’My prince, this woman is clearly a witch or mentally deranged. I think we should count our losses and leave this very instant-’’

‘’Shut up before I’ll take your tongue out.’’ Aemond growls. ‘’She’s right about you lot. Cowards and one ugly raper. You’re not men. Next time, I’ll set out with women. They clearly know what they’re doing.’’ He says as you remove a stubborn piece of nut from one of your teeth with the dagger. ‘’Continue. You were going to offer me something. Something even sweeter than the blood on your face, perhaps?’’ He leans in, scooping a bit of blood off your face. You do find him attractive. You watch as he mirrors your action, tasting the blood and licking his own fingers off. You chuckle, delighted.

The woman claps her hands, delighted and even jumps up and down. Aemond is confused. She seems very childish, in some ways. But he kind of adores it. He likes that free spirit. He likes her innocence, and yet her dark rotten nature. ‘’Oh, you have no idea. My brothers, I know where they are.’’ He can feel that this will end in a good way.  He can’t help but stare at her breasts.

The ugly soldier sadly tugs his coat, ruining his daydream.‘’You can’t believe this heathen. Who even would kill his own kin? Nothing so accursed as a…’’ The man stops talking, realising that Aemond has taken out his sword. He glares at the man, challenging him to continue. Kinslayer.

She smiles, lowering his blade subtly. ‘’I can find them for you. You’ll be back in your brother’s good graces.’’ But Aemond is not a fool. He knows that nothing comes without a price.

‘’And in return?’’ He asks, brows raised slightly.

You chuckle, liking the way where this is going. You could list all sort of beautiful rewards. Hm. What could you possibly want? ‘’You let me kill them. I want them to die a slow, painful death.’’ You tell him, staring at his hands. ‘’I want them to crave death. I want to inflict so much pain and misery on them that they already feel as if they parted this world and are in the deepest seventh hell.’’ You stare at the dragon pins on his coat, suddenly your interest peaking at seeing a dragon up close.  ‘’Oh, and I want to ride with you on the dragon's back. I heard you have one.’’ You didn’t hear anything, truth be told. You kind of guessed it.

‘’Vhagar and I would be honoured.’’ Your whole world stops spinning at that one moment. You pull your necklace in your dress, your walls crumbling and you feel exposed and vulnerable. You had no comfort growing up. Your own family were monsters. And so you longed for your own monster. A monster to protect you. To keep you safe. One day, you heard stories of Visenya, a woman who is according to some monsters too. She rode the big beast Vhagar. You fell asleep, wishing you had a visenya. You fell asleep, crying, wanting anyone, someone, to protect you.

And now here he is. The protector. Your chance for freedom. With Vhagar of all dragons.

‘’You have her dragon? Visenya’s dragon?’’ Your voice becomes soft, timid, unsure, something you weren’t sure you could even hear in your own voice. Hope.

Aemond seems to notice her changing body language right away. ‘’Indeed I do.’’ He folds his hands on his back, tilting his head, smirking at her big eyes, and her stunned expression. That might be the first time she’s genuinely sincere and in awe of him. He likes this genuine excitement more than whatever she tried to do earlier. 

You try to keep your walls around you, protecting your heart.

‘’Well, I must meet her.’’ You say, as a matter of fact.

The Prince stops you before you can rush off. ‘’First things first. Shall we go to my camp, mayhaps we can discuss our plans, and share a nice cup of wine while we’re add it?’’

–

His camp is nearby. You are allowed to bathe the blood away. You are led into the royal tent, the one where Aemond sleeps in. You marvel at his royal bed linen and his collection of books and swords. ‘’You can stay here. I don’t trust others enough.’’ He reveals to you, as he prepares two cups of wine. You know who he refers to. His soldiers. 

Aemond and you sit down. ‘’You want to work with me then? Even after I killed that village?’’ He keeps his sword closeby. It does sound like madness….

If those villagers weren’t the deepest cursed creatures of the seventh deepest hells.You feel the anger rise up inside of you. ‘’I wasn’t friends with that village. They knew. Everyone in that godsdamned village knew. If they didn’t end my pain, why would I end theirs?’’  Aemond is silent, but nods along, as if agreeing with your anger. ‘’My only regret is that their suffering was just a night and not from days to years.’’ You say, and you mean every word. No suffering is enough.

You notice you become distant, so you mask your emotions. ‘’You want to talk strategy?’’

You want to put your hand on his knee but he moves position so you cannot. ‘’Yes. Where are they?’’ Aemond does not wait for your schemes, waiting impatiently for answers. That is a complicated answer.

You laugh. He is funny. He thinks you’ll answer him right away. ‘’I’m not telling you. I’m worried you’ll drop me off and don’t let me come along once I tell you. But rest assured, I’ll lead you to them.’’

‘’That sounds like a trap.’’ Aemond says, observant. You roll your eyes, showing him your dagger. He nearly jumps, seeing the blade you had hidden away. You shrug.

‘’I have you alone here. If I wanted you dead, you’d be such a pretty corpse by now.’’ You say, touching his lips with your blade. You put it away, smirking, oblivious to his longing stare, and his silence. You notice his bloodied sword and his silent glance. You smile, crawling on his lap as you begin to clean the sword for him. ‘’You don’t mind me sitting here, do you? It’s a bit cold.’’ You lie.

You only feel his hands wrap around your throat. You are worried for one split second, afraid he’ll finally kill you. But his eye says something else. You are kissed the next moment. You allow yourself to nibble on his lips, feel his face, and quickly remove the eyepatch. Aemond pushes you off, hurt and shame burning in his eye. ‘’No.’’ He manages to croak out.

You freeze, eyepatch in hand. He covers his eye. ‘’I don’t…’’ He says, breathing heavily. You see yourself. You drop the eyepatch, but do return to his side. You take his free hand, feeling the long fingers. You gently remove his hand from his eye. He stares at you, ashamed as only one eye looks back now. One eye, and a hideous scar that no doubt brings him so much pain and shame.

‘’I told you before, men should have scars. I don’t mind that you have them.’’ You repeat, feeling the scar gently with your fingertips. You leave a kiss on his lips. You don’t expect him to return to whatever was happening, but you notice some determination breaking through him. He grabs you by your hips, kissing you back, first gently, then hungry, almost needy, as if he will die without you. You and him kiss as Aemond removes your dress, kissing your breasts and he halts by the scars on your throat. You don’t want to talk about it. But you know you must if you want to earn his trust. ‘’They threw me to the hounds when I was three.’’ You admit. Aemond doesn’t say a word. ‘’I didn’t die, unfortunately. I instead befriended them. I became their leader.’’ He is speechless still.

You carefully kiss him back, eager for something now that that pain comes back out of its shell. A distraction on your part, you are certain. You play along however, for now.

“What is it that you want?” He whispers in her ear. She has got to be the most haunted and cursed soul he ever saw. And yet he cannot deny that he wants her. But he has a mission, so he must bed her easily, and then she’ll leave his mind for good. “I'll be gentle.” He promises her. “And kind. You'll be taken care of.”

Her chuckle betrays that she feels better, and less upset, reminded by her traumas.

“What if I don't want it to be gentle and kind?’’ His mouth slightly opens in a confused manner, as you begin to undress him now too.  ‘’What if I want that man…” she reaches for his manhood, surprising and arousing him. “that took my home town?” You grin. 

He is aroused you can tell by all the signs. Yet he seems to deny himself this pleasure.

“You want that?’ He asks, confused. 

You roll your eyes, playfully. “I want you, Aemond. I want the Kinslayer and the one eyed prince. I want to see your darkness and that you poison me with it from within.” You bow your head to his cock and begin to gently suck on it, as Aemond relaxes, sighing.

“Gods be good,” He whispers. She laughs much softer and begins to trust her hips to his front, gently beginning what both of them wanted. She puts his hands on her hips, learning him a new exciting thing. He normally fucks women lying down.

“I am not very …” He knows he should tell her. But he cannot bring the words over his lips. Instead he stares at her, with a heartbreaking sadness in his eyes. She caresses his face again. 

You are dumbstruck. How can such a mighty creature think so lowly of itself?

“You'll be fine.” you promise him instead of laughing. “You ride fiercer creatures. You ride a dragon. How scary can a girl be, once you have tamed and claimed a dragon?’’ He seems to lighten up at this joke, joining you at long last. You feel him penetrate and you hold back the first soft moans. 

You smile, enjoying your position. But suddenly, something seems to click in Aemond’s mind. He seems to wake up for the spell you put him under. You are flipped within a moment, now under him. He pins you down and begins to roughly fuck you instead. ‘’You wanted me? You’ll get me.’’ He whispers, before slamming inside of you. You ignore the jab of pain and betrayal and let the man do as he wishes, knowing well you still will get pleasure out of it. But you aren’t sure if Aemond trusts you more or less after you and him have done this. Aemond isn’t happy with how things are going, and instead resorts to an older technique he learned in the brothel. He yanks her up by her long hair, bending her on the bed, ass towards him. He forces her down, climbing slightly on her body and fucks her from behind. He hears her approving cries as he begins to reach his height, ecstasy blinding him.

You never had done this before, and you are thankful for it. It is true that Aemond is not the most considerate bed partner, but you would have to be blind to not notice something is deeply wrong with him. He has some disdain and shyness towards the bedroom that seems to remind you of how girls who served your father acted. He might pretend he’s a tough prince, but deep down, you know he’s broken from the core, and only a few strings keep him standing up. Aemond groans, reminding you of your duties as your thoughts race, and you buck back, allowing him to take you as he likes. ‘’Fuck me, kinslayer.’’ You whisper, rubbing his legs. He groans a reply, in a strange tongue you don’t know and takes you much faster, much rougher. It’s less elegant and less gentle, it hurts, if you’re being honest. But you like it way too much to call him to a stop. You hear Aemond finally come, and its the most amazing feeling in the world, aside from killing as he fills you with his seed. He thinks he holds the power, but you do. You made him lose control. You made him come. You smirk, glad Aemond is still facing the other side. 

‘’I do mean it. I want to know where your brothers are. This distraction, it won’t save you.’’ He adds, panting heavily. ‘’I…’’

You ignore his stuttering and turn back around, gaze upon him as some smitten maid and kiss his lips again. ‘’Do not worry. I will have my revenge.’’ You say, clearly.  Aemond nods, agreeing to your words. ‘’And so will you.’’ You add. ‘’You will have it all. The realm..’’You rub his legs as he lays next to you, panting still. You are breathless too. You are also still aroused. You didn't get to finish. You kiss his balls. ‘’The throne..’’You add, making direct eye contact. Aemond’s brows frown, but his eyes are closed. He seems to know that its wrong to want, but he wants it regardless. You place yourself back on his cock. ‘’The world.’’ You finish, and begin to trust your hips, chasing your own pleasure. Aemond allows this, and holds you and takes you as well as he can but its clear that he didn’t keep your pleasure in mind. You come, crying out as you soak his cock. Aemond has his eyes still closed, but now there’s a pleasant cheeky smile on his lips. 

‘’I do want it.’’ He admits, holding your hands suddenly.

‘’The realm?’’ 

‘’The world.’’

‘’’Then what is stopping you? I saw you with the flock you call men. I saw you riding your horse, I saw you commanding your men. You are meant for all of it.’’ You tell him, smirking.

‘’You care for what?’’

‘’Maybe I’m hoping once you’ll become King, I’ll become your Queen. And we burn villages atop of Vhagar together. Drink wine out of our enemies skulls, burn houses of traitors with them locked in the basements, dance in blood, play games with bones.’’ You whisper, letting the fantasy take over.

Aemond avoids your eyes. ‘’I must marry to keep my blood pure, if I were the King.’’ He says, and you don’t like how much pain he causes with that little sentence. You nod, blinking as some idiot at his rejection. His eye sparkles, however. ‘’But, if you have some villages in mind, we can go now. I have a free hour.’’ He says. You dive atop of him, kissing his lips as you eagerly get into your clothes. Aemond follows, much slower, but also eager. 

Aemond prepares for Vhagar as you patiently wait, picking your dagger back up, hiding it in your boots. You hear Aemond laugh as he greets his dragon. You walk behind him, the dagger burning in your boots. The soldiers don’t mind the two of you, as night has befallen the camp. You wait until Aemond has come to fetch you. ‘’What is the matter? Have you changed your mind?’’ He asks. You feel the dagger burn. You stare at Vhagar. Vhagar roars, in warry.

‘’I have.’’ You proclaim.

Aemond’s smile dies as you take out your dagger.

You look at him. ‘’I was sent to kill you, Prince Aemond. I was sent and hired by your sister to kill you. She would give me so much riches if I did.’’ You recall your deal with Rhaenyra as Aemond gawks, the guards quickly surrounding you. You put your dagger back in your boot. ‘’However, I suggest we do something more fun. I suggest, we make her think I’ve captured you, and you show up with your dragon and burn her to a crisp. How does that sound?’’

Aemond only smiles. ‘’I accept. On one condition.’’ You wait, staring at him.

‘’You will ride beside me when I burn her and the other bastards. You will also tell me where your brothers are.’’ He says. ‘’Or I’ll kill you right now.’’

You chuckle again. ‘’My brothers are at different locations..’’ You say, grinning. ''One is at the Red keep. Another, at Oldtown. Another again, marches in the North.''

He frowns. He looks at your face, again, and again and it finally hits him. It hits him so hard, that the sword clatters from his hands and falls to the ground. He begins to cough, violently. You open your arms, smiling. Brutus didn’t father you. Brutus raised you. On behalf of someone in the Red Keep. Someone who wanted to keep you alive, but a secret. ‘’Hello, brother. It is a honor to finally meet you.'' You fold your hands on your back and wait for Aemond to speak. You give him a grin, but its a bit too much for Aemond. He is caught by two guards before he faints, hitting the ground as Vhagar huffs, returning to her sleep at last.

A/N

Idk whats even going on she was so keen on being Brutus' daughter what do you mean she is LARYS daughter with Alicent or maybe Cole and alicents daughter what do you mean?! WHAT DOES ANY OF THIS MEAN.

yeah, i dont write outlines so this is a surprise for me as much as its for you all! I do like Aemond fainting like thats fair, man. I'd faint too if that was my sister. Girlie needs help.

thank you if you read.

let me know what you think if you stomached through it.

[burningcheese-merchant]

When Burning Spice was introduced a lot of people made comparison with Capsaicin, and even thought they were related. You have any thoughts on that?

I do, and you're all probably going to be very disappointed lol

Not only do I NOT vibe with the idea that they're related, I'm actually really annoyed that it's as popular as it is lol. It doesn't even make sense. Burning Spice was in prison for thousands of years; when, where and how did he have a kid? At what point in time did this occur? Capsaicin is a young man. A regular mortal, outside of his "Spice Overlord" thing. I ask you all again: when? Where? How? WHY? Has anyone ever actually thought this through?

"ThEy LoOk SiMiLaR" okay, and? So fucking what? Neither of them own the concept of "long hair" or "muscles" or "sharp teeth". Pitaya has those too, and he has an arguably more substantial connection to Capsaicin because they're actually from the same fucking area. Happenstance. Lots of characters in this game have similar attributes, that doesn't necessarily mean anything

"ThEy'Re BoTh SpIcY" Refer to point A. Do you all think all the nut-based cookies are related, too? That's the logic you might as well be operating on. Correlation is not causation

"Blah blah both go 2 jail" you know how many characters in this wack-ass phone game count as felons, bro? How many of them SHOULD count as felons lol? The Cookie Run universe might as well be one giant Alcatraz with all the shit these little affronts to God get up to every day, I ain't making them all each other's relatives because of it

They're the wrong ages for them to be family. Burning Spice was serving a life sentence since long before Capsaicin was even thought of, he literally got out after the guy was already a grown ass man. They're not even from the same fucking CONTINENT! Capsaicin has probably never even HEARD of Beast-Yeast! Even that little comic the CRK Twitter account posted makes fun of all this shit!!! The Wild Spices mistake Cap for Spice from behind, and then get confused when he turns around because THEY VERY CLEARLY DO NOT KNOW WHO HE IS AND HAVE NEVER SEEN HIM BEFORE! Wouldn't an army know if their general had a son, even if it was only mentioned in passing? Wouldn't THIS army have a vested interest in having their general's son around if he existed, and stop at nothing to bring him home should he vanish, to gain favor with Spice and because of how powerful Capsaicin is and how useful he could be to them?

I wouldn't be so bent out of shape about all this if it wasn't LITERALLY FUCKING EVERYWHERE!!! I cannot enjoy any content of Burning Spice OR Capsaicin without having to endure a fucking barrage of "hurr durr father and son" posts!!! I just want to ogle my hot, sexy, deliciously evil spice man BY HIM-FUCKING-SELF in peace, I never asked to have to hear the exact fucking same "hi son I came back with the milk" joke over and over and over again

I know I sound like a massive dick right now and I'm truly sorry. You are more than welcome to think of these two as related in some way if you wish. I am not your mother, nor your leader, nor your god, I'm just some cringe loser on the internet. Enjoy this game and its characters in whatever way you choose. I even actually like a good bit of the father/son art, a lot of it is cute and funny. I'm able and willing to say that with complete sincerity.

I just wish I didn't have to feel like it's being forced on me. That is one of the biggest issues I have with this fandom: how oppressive it often feels. You MUST ship this particular pairing, you MUST headcanon these characters as family, you MUST take this one-off joke that was clearly just a goddamn joke and preach it 24/7/365 like it's the gospel truth that Devsis themselves wrote on stone tablets and delivered from the top of Mount Sinai. And then when someone doesn't want to do that, everyone else descends upon them like a plague of fucking locusts. I actually saw a Dad Spice + Son Cap post on here with the person who made it saying something like "ok since everyone agrees that these two are family [...]" and I just got so fucking irritated. No, actually, not everyone agrees. Not everyone agrees on a lot of the fanon that's shoved down the entire community's throats on a regular basis. PLEASE stop acting like they do. I still remember when people would get flat-out harassed for not acting like Herb is Sea Fairy's son (old ass drama lol).

Say what you will about me, I'm just one person and you can block me or whatever dumb tags I use for my dumb shit. There is NOWHERE I can go to avoid this. Twitter? Plagued. Tumblr? Plagued. Even fucking reddit is on this nonsense (only in my personal opinion). But that's what I get for acknowledging Reddit in any capacity lol

I shall once again sincerely apologize for my harsh tone here, I am not attacking you personally or anyone who headcanons these two as relatives. I am just generally, profoundly frustrated and I need to get it out. I appreciate you taking the time to ask me an honest question, I hope you can forgive me for my painfully honest answer

[tonycries]

Love Thy D!LF - T.F.

Synopsis. Yes, your neighbor is a hot, pérvy D!LF. Yes, he’s a total tease. No, you don’t think your poor new bed frame is going to stay in one piece…

Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, older! Toji, voyéurísm, pánty-stéaling, male mast., exhibítionísm, he is so DOWN BAD, matíng presses, marathon s, víbrators, oraI (fem rec.), face-sítting, p slápping, p talking, BRÉEDING, mentions of kids, PÚSSYDRÚNK TOJI, proposals, overstím, creampíes, shóoting blanks, he’s a tease that’s shírtless half the time, Megumi’s a real one, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 8.1k (PHEW)

A/N. Apartment building wouldn’t last a week if he was my neighbor.

Neighbor (UGH): another pair of those cute lil’ pajama shorts made their way onto my balcony again, ma.

Your neighbor was a tease.

Ever since you’d stepped foot into this apartment building a mere few months ago, it seemed like everything and anything he did was to rile your poor head up into a frenzy - and, well, down there…

Because, for lack of a better term, Toji Fushiguro was hot. 

Once your landlord had off-handedly mentioned that the occupant of the apartment right beside your own was a single father, you’d imagined a sweet older man that doted on his young son and would likely steer clear out of your way. 

What you certainly had not expected was for your housewarming gift of a fresh batch of cookies to be oh-so-blatantly greeted by a staggeringly gorgeous man that took up every inch of the doorframe. Shirtless.

Bzzt–!

Your skin burns with the realization of just how deeply you’d been reminiscing back to that heavenly sight, hastily snapping your eyes back onto your blaring phone screen.

Neighbor (UGH): well? hurry before i start to like them too much <3

Ugh, you’re rolling your eyes at that mischievous little heart placed at the end of his text. It was absolutely embarrassing how that was enough to have a tiny squeal slipping through your lips involuntarily. Calling you flirty nicknames, flashing winks your way, lingering his hands just slightly whenever he helped carry your groceries upstairs - Toji did everything. 

You find yourself giving your reflection a slow one-over in your phone camera - just in case. Before padding eagerly down the treacherous pathway that carried you out of your apartment and along the five steps down the corridor to your neighbor’s door. 

Heaving out a shaky breath, you knock.

And Toji Fushiguro never made you wait. He never had you standing in the hallway for more than two seconds before that heavy wooden door swings open…almost as if he’d been suspiciously standing by for this.

“Took ya long enough. Heh, I was beginning to think you almost wanted me to have it, doll.”

Oh.

Oh.

Shit, you should’ve known - and it takes every ounce of will in your body to keep your gaze locked with the forest-green eyes sweeping down the expanse of your figure. Greedily. 

Because Toji was showing off what looked like miles upon miles of slightly-tanned, bulging muscles that were just about seconds away from ripping straight through the thin, white undershirt that stuck to him like a second skin. Molding to every curve and dip down, down, down- 

It’s not something new exactly, and if there was one thing you’d learned during your time here, it was that your eccentric neighbor wasn’t shy to show skin.

Especially around you. 

In one hand was grasped the soft fabric of your cotton shorts, swallowed up by his thick digits. The other propping up on top of the door to flex his strong biceps in a way that makes you gulp. 

You notice with a jolt that Toji’s pinkish tongue briefly peaks out to swipe over that sinful scar sitting prettily at the very edge of his smug smirk. Moving to hum cockily, “Cat got yer tongue?”

He knew what he was doing. 

God, this was already shameful enough without him making it worse. You were only grateful that so far you’d been called over for only a few sundresses and t-shirts - nothing scandalous, yet. 

“No-” you’re mumbling out. Trying oh-so-hard to not let your eyes flicker to the too-tight strain of his boxers around his thick thighs. Failing. “Just wondering how you probably need those shorts more than me, anyway.”

He didn’t - in fact, you’d prefer him without one.

A fat thumb of his finds its way to the hem of his boxers, tugging down so tantalizingly slightly to give you a sexy flash of skin. Lined with a sharp hipbone, and a dark happy trail - “S’that your way of tellin’ me you want me out of this, ma?”

“You wish, pervert.” You try to swipe at your shorts, only for Toji to dangle it far, far away from you. “I just meant those b-boxers look like they’ve seen better days. Years, even.” 

“Hah?” Toji’s dragging out mockingly, leaning his broad shoulders against the doorframe. He’s crossing his hands, letting your sight be obscured by the display of his strong, rippling forearms. So close now that you feel his breath fan your face, could smell every waft of his cinnamony masculine scent. Grin only widening, “M’being nice enough to take the time outta my day to hand over your cute lil’ pieces of laundry and this is how ya talk to me? I have better things to do, y’know.”

Huffing, you’re ready with a quick apology on the very tip of your tongue to get this over with as soon as possible. That is, before-

“He’s lying.”

Both of you snap your heads down towards the direction of the sullen, deadpanning voice. And you already know by the wearied sigh at the end who it belongs to. 

“Why, hello there, Megs-” you’re smiling, reaching out to ruffle those spikes of black hair that’d magically manifested beside the door. Ignoring Toji’s affronted grunts of “he never lets me do that.”

“He’s lying, y’know.” Megumi blinks his eyes up at you, and you silently wonder just how it was possible for a six-year-old to look like he’s seen all the horrors of the world already. He’s ruthless. Pointing a sharp, accusatory finger up at his father, “He doesn’t have better things to do. He’s been giggling disgustingly to himself in front of the door for the past-”

“That’s enough- why don’t you get some homework done, my son.” Toji’s clapping his hand immediately over Megumi’s mouth, wrangling his tiny, thrashing body over one shoulder before briefly disappearing inside. 

“Just tell her!”

“I’m taking your iPad time away!”

It’s just about all that you hear from inside before he makes his appearance again - shaggy, black tresses now disheveled, high cheekbones flushed, and from the corner of your very obvious staring you notice a pearly bead of sweat disappear between his cushiony pecs. Though, your eyes follow, you didn’t mind…

“Tch- kids these days, right?” he’s gasping in a few hurried lungfuls. Planting the shorts into your open palms, his calloused pads linger on your hand. “S-so uh, I take that the dryer’s not working, yet?”

You’re sighing, rubbing your fingers over your throbbing temples. “Yeah, I told Higuruma- our landlord to look at it, but he’s still on that business trip and won’t be back for a while. Sorry about all this, Toji.”

“Please-” he’s waving. “You worry your pretty lil’ head too much, it’s not like m’complaining now. Am I?”

“Yeah but-”

“Besides. Why don’t I take a look at it?”

“What?” your brows scrunch together, and the thought of Toji being inside your home made your words tremble ever-so-slightly with- anticipation? Excitement? Want? Whatever it was, it made his dark brows raise, and you’re sure you had an utterly unexplainable look on your face right now. “Do you even know how to?”

He’s scoffing, eyes rolling at you with practice. “Asking me if I know how to fix shit- of course, I fuckin’ know how to fix a dryer. Probably better than ol’ clipboard Higuruma himself. You need to be taken care of, y’know.”

And, yes, that might be so - but more than that came the idea that Toji had to enter your home to do so. You couldn’t help but think of something else. Making you mutter out a heated, “I’ll…consider it.”

He smiles a smug smile, a tiny dimple digging into the very end of his cheek. “Tha’s what I like to hear, ma.”

The very second that door shuts, you’re rushing back to your own apartment. Shorts clutched to your thumping heartbeat and thighs slightly weaker than they were just a few minutes ago. Slightly…hotter. Ready to scramble back into your bedroom and create just a bit more laundry for tomorrow. 

And only a few seconds later does Toji find himself doing the most pathetic fistbump behind closed doors. The beginnings of a sleazy smile on the very edges of his lips. 

“Smooth, dad.”

“Now I’m serious about no iPad-”

Megumi’s running back into his room before that rasping threat has even left Toji’s predictable lips. Grumbling, he’s making his way to that godforsaken frog-cased iPad cushioned in the middle of the sofa, possibly to hide it away for a few hours.

And then, he sees it. 

Now, one of the very reasons that Toji had rented this apartment in the first place was for that idyllic skyline winking up from over his balcony. Towering buildings, flashing lights, all overlooking his living room couch - which, unfortunately for him - or, well, fortunately more like - just-so-happened to be positioned right next to your own balcony lined with laundry. 

So it wasn’t exactly a surprise for him to catch a fluttering piece of cotton or ratty sleep shirt of yours for him to tease about later. 

With a sigh at the flashing piece of fabric, he’s shuttering the sliding window open - ready to call your pretty self over again before-

“Shit.” Toji hisses, deep baritone wavering. His brows are raising down at the stray cloth, prominent Adam’s apple bobbing with a gulp. You really wear this type of shit? Well, he shouldn’t exactly be surprised but…

But this?

Because wrapped easily around his long fingers was a pair of pretty, pretty lace panties. Panties. All pink and see-through enough that Toji thinks he could see his own fingerprints through that flimsy excuse of underwear. 

All of a sudden…his hands mindlessly raise up, up, up - mere inches away from his nose when…fuck.

“Damn, woman.” he’s spitting, snapping back to his senses. Ignoring the tightening in his pants to speedwalk his hasty way over to his bedroom in search of his phone. Just a few clicks away from texting you- “Gonna be the fuckin’ death of me I swear-”

And, see, Toji Fushiguro isn’t the type to stutter. 

He isn’t the pathetic type to let anyone else’s voice shoot a bolt of electricity down his spine - to choke right in the middle of his sentence. 

But, you always did throw him off, didn’t you?

Because he’s letting his maw slack open in a sharp gasp- no, shudder at the muffled, drawling sound from beyond the walls. Fingers loosening around his phone in sheer shock when he snaps his head towards his shared wall where your bedroom was. 

Where he could hear your honeyed voice. Moaning. 

And Toji gulps…before locking the door to his bedroom.

Like an animal, he’s immediately sneaking up to press his greedy ear against the wall where it was emanating from. Aching for every tiny gasp and whine, he could just imagine the way you were splayed out across your plush mattress, fingers buried deep.

So cute.

“Please- it feels s-so good.” Comes your cute mewl, followed by the buzzing vrrrr—! of what he assumes to be that hot pink rose toy of yours that’d accidentally gotten delivered to his address last week. And Toji almost snickers.

“F-fuck-” he breathes out shakily. Unabashedly listening for more, more, more- “Ya can’t be serious- what a treat.”

And Toji knows he should be the bigger person and stop listening, he knows he should ignore the sultry way your trembling moans were sending shockwaves down to his tight boxers. But he can’t.

“Ngh- r-right there-” you’re whimpering, and Toji tuts at the way he could’ve found your sweet spots much earlier. “-yeah- hah- jus’ a little more- Toji-”

His phone clatters! to the ground.

Did you just say…his name?

“Fuck-” One massive hand of his comes down to clap over his jaw-dropped mouth, biting back an answering moan coming from something dangerously dark, primal from inside his heaving chest. 

Shit, he can’t breathe - he can’t even think right now because every drop of blood in Toji’s entire body was sprinting down to his heavy cock smacking down his thigh. Rock-hard. Angry. Just twitching when your voice repeats his name louder. 

“Toji—!”

Ah, there it was again. And with it, he can feel every shred of his sanity being thrown away. Only once- twice was enough to get Toji addicted. To have his melty mind yearning to hear it again. And again. And again and again and-

Toji feels pathetic. 

Like some hormone-hazed, younger version of himself when his hands frantically fumble their way to hook into the elastic band of his boxers. Feeling absolutely zero guilt when he tugs-

Toji was hard. Painfully, furiously hard just from the mere sound of your voice. Swollen and sobbing. It was enough to have his fat, strawberry-pink tip smack! against his toned abs, smearing down a wet glissade of precum that makes him hiss. All but drooling at the scratch of your panties being wrapped delicately around his sensitive shaft. 

“Oh god.” he’s breathing out, thumbing over a wet glide on the bawling divot of his swollen head. It’s pooling like a translucent little puddle, wet enough that those pearlescent beads gloss a wet trail all the way down to his wrist. And he’s popping the salted-caramel digit into his mouth. “Wh-who the fuck do ya think you are ta get me this hard, ma?”

The fat curve of his thumb latches on to plug up the very ends of his cock, stopping himself from wasting a single precious drop before listening.

For anything.

“C-c’mon–” Toji lets his heavy body lean against the wall after a few more sloppy squelches that pull from your saturated cunt. He could already hear how dripping wet you were. How needy. “Wanna hear your hah- pretty lips talk-”

Toji’s sinking his sharp canines onto his lower lip to hold back a groan. Because as much as he loved to hear himself talk - hearing you moan was worth more than anything. Even if it cost him his rationality to quieten down. Please- 

Ah, his prayers are answered.

Because the wall slightly jitters with your vibrating voice once more. “Oh- sh-shit it feels so good-”

“Heheh, does it?” he’s grunting, drawing a slow wetness of swirls on the underside of his slit. Hard enough to send him seeing stars. “Tell me- t-tell me more, ma.”

And could you read his mind?

Because whatever’s left of it certainly seems to think so at the way that no sooner are the words spilling from his babbling lips that you’re feeding his blessed ears with a few more syrupy sweet whines. And Toji shivers when he hears the creak of your bed.

Damn…he could make it break. He’s sure. 

The thought is enough to send his hips rutting into his fist, furiously fucking up into it like he was angry. Like he wishes he could do with you-

“O-oh-” Toji gasps out a hot, condensed breath feeling the slight massage of your thin panties at his twitchy balls. He’s unsteadily picking its sticky cloth apart to press it even deeper into the drenched tufts of black at his hilt, down every thumping vein that’s lightning-bolted down his length. “This thing b-barely even wraps around my cock, doll.”

He’s hot. So, so hot. Latching onto the hem of his undershirt with his teeth to swipe across his sensitive nipples. 

Burning.

And, really, he didn’t know what was worse for his poor self - your noises from just the other room, or the way your panties felt so good down his cock in this one. 

“Good fuckin’ girl.” He twirls your panties around his fat hilt, meshing against the creamy pink at his hefty base. Fucking it up, up, up with pound after pound that half-leaves the poor thing in tatters. Well, he sure hoped you didn’t like this pair too much. “Probably so fuckin’ oh- wet now, huh? Did I do that? Didn’t know you were s-such a slut f’me.”

Every slobbering drag down his length has Toji’s dark brows knitting together. Back and forth back and forth back and- So hard. 

So hot and heavy. He could barely catch his breath, sweat perspires across his forehead, and Toji could almost taste the metallic tang of blood when he’s holding back every rasping ah! ah! ah! just to hear your voice. 

It was agonizing. 

And he couldn’t help but imagine the way you were probably toying your tired fingers over your clit - the way you’d probably be so shy at how he could so clearly hear you. Killing Toji that it was the only thing he could do.

SLAM!

“Shit-” Toji’s snapping his head up at the mindless way his free hand had come smashing down onto the nearby drawer for any shred of balance. Sharp ears searching desperately for any sign that you’d heard-

“Ngh- yes- jus’ a bit more-”

He breathes out a guilty sigh of relief when the saturated slurps of your cunt only continue. Filling his mind sloppily like his favorite song. Gulping in a harsh wad of saliva before spitting a thick stream right onto the very edge of his plump, reddish head. His hulking body wracks with a violent shudder as it drip! drip! drips down every tender spot on his swollen cock. Beading down to cover his heavy balls in a thin sheen of spit. 

“Look what you’ve done.” he’s spitting. Other hand coming down to rub lazy, massaging circles around his bulbous, cum-filled sacks. The sheer stimulation enough to have his head lolling drunkenly against the wall.

“M’so close-” Your voice only makes Toji fuck into his hand even harder - if only it was you. You, you, you - the only thing playing around his currently stupid mind. “-g-gonna cum ah-”

That makes him bawl out another furious wave of precum staining your panties see-through, glinting with every flutter down his raw cock. Faster. It was building and building up so close-

“C-close already?” he’s snickering, bending at the knees with how weak he was. Toji’s biceps flex and and ache with just how wildly he was fucking up into his fist, abs rippling with each wild buck. He half-wonders if he’d be able to see that pretty frilly pattern of your panties imprinted on his cock the next day. Over and over- “I woulda m-made you cum sooner.”

Would your beautiful eyes roll to the very back of your head when you did?

Would you beg him to cum, too? To fill you up. To breed you. Shit, that had his hefty shaft twitch in his hands, electricity flashing behind Toji’s eyes. 

Would you moan his name - oh, please moan his name.

“P-please-” Toji finds himself gasping, and his entire body was hunched over now. Pathetic. Waiting for any second that you’d reach your high - he was a gentleman, after all. “Cum f’me- ah fuck fuck fuck-” Twiddling a manicured thumb in a slow line underneath his sensitive slit, it was making him moan so dangerously loud. “-please- cum on this fuckin’ cock, ma.”

“Fuck! Toji-” Comes your yelp, and it makes his mouth water. Breath held in a choked-up gasp in his puffing chest, “-m’cumming.”

He could see it already - just how pretty you’d look with your head thrown back and your back arching into his cock when you finally reach your high. 

Now, Toji doesn’t know what overtook him to drag those drenched panties up to his face - to press it thoroughly against his nose and smell your essence. Breathing it in. drinking it in. But he can’t pretend like he hadn’t imagined it many, many times before. 

And it makes him cum 

It makes him shudder with a heavy puff of air, once. Twice. Before dumping and dumping out stringy wads of seed until your soft panties were soaked.

“Oh shit- shit shit shit-” he spews out a slurring slew of profanities, painfully hard cock bursting at the end with wet splatters of cum. So much of it. It’s making such a filthy mess that he almost feels guilty. 

Jaw clenching when he’s forced to part with your panties with a pained gruff, sliding it along his thoroughly coated cock. Hi cum seeps through the fabric and into a milky puddle that pools at his wrist, dripping down a milky sheen across his skin. 

“Mmpf–” his mouth salivates. A low, disappointed scoff bursting at the back of his throat when your own obscene noises quieten down. He missed you already. Dewy eyes veering to the back of his head, he’s only wondering how much prettier these would look on you. Still as ruined. “You’d be lucky to get these fuckin’ panties back, woman.”

Bzzt–! 

From its discarded place on the floor, he can read the notification flashing across the phone screen.

Cutie-next-door: I’ve decided - can you come by tomorrow to fix the dryer, pleeeease?

---

“-ah, ya see when this vent is clogged s’gonna stop working. And so what you hafta do is-”

You weren’t listening.

You couldn’t.

Because Toji Fushiguro was sprawled out across your cramped kitchen - completely shirtless.

You had half the mind to turn him away after he’d knocked on your door with absolutely no sign of any upperwear - that sleazy grin plastered all over his face begging the answer to whether this was on purpose. To tease you. “Can move better this way” your ass. 

But the thought of having even more of your laundry fly away, forcing you to potentially face this very same display multiple times is what had you opening your front door wider to let him inside. 

No matter how much you would’ve appreciated the view…

And so here you were, squirming in one corner of the kitchen while Toji worked on your dryer. Sweat sheening down his swole muscles, disappearing in tempting beads down underneath his low-hanging pants. Slight smears of grease decorate his pecs, and you have to cross your arms to stop yourself from thumbing them away. He was so handy. 

Shit, this was why you’d dolled-up just a bit more than usual. He was so-

“-doll? Doll.”

“Uh-” you’re yelping, blinking your eyes back up to meet an extraordinarily smug smirk now directed at you. “W-what were you saying?”

“Heh, I was saying you should take a picture, it’ll last longer.” he titters with a slight rumble, tools clinking when he’s taking off his bulky gloves. “Ya can enjoy the view later, but I was askin’ if ya had anything to dry right now to test this piece of junk.”

Urgently, you’re looking towards your empty laundry basket. “Sorry, seems that I dried them all out yesterday.”

“No pressure, besides-” You can only watch when he shuffles a hand inside one of his curiously bulging pant pockets. “-I came prepared.”

“Wh-wha- where did you get that?” 

Because held so daintily within Toji’s cocky clutches, dangled one of your missing pairs of panties. They looked recently washed, and you’re reaching with a yelp for it. Falling onto your knees to match his seated position - which, obviously didn’t mean he’d hand it over. 

Why would he? This was Toji Fushiguro. 

He only throws them into your dryer, before closing the door with a dark snicker, “More like why let them fly their merry way over to my balcony again. Honestly- you call me the tease but look who’s talking.”

“You’re saying I’m the tease?” you shrill. The embarrassment was getting to you now - it was overconsuming you - and if the leering smirk on Toji’s face was anything to go by, you were sure that it was visible. 

“If the shoe- or, well, panties fit.”

He was so cocky about his stupid lil’ joke. 

You stab a rude finger right between the valley of his pecs, copping a feel of the velvety smooth skin. “Sh-shut up, if you want to talk about a tease then let’s talk about who showed up to fix a dryer shirtless.”

“Part of the outfit.” he shrugs. Tilting his head up at you, and shit, it finally hits you how precariously close you two are right now. Toji’s splayed out on your cool kitchen tile, while you’re straddling his slender waist with jittery legs, pressed up against the heated proximity of his unfairly shirtless body. Chest-to-chest. “Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy the view, little miss had-a-fun-time-yesterday.”

You blink, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

But in true Toji fashion, the closest to an answer you get is a large hand attaching roughly onto your waist. Jostling your body close enough for him to breathe out in a feverish chuckle - hot, and purposeful against your ear. “The walls are thin. Just sayin’.”

Oh.

Oh, shit. 

You knew exactly what he was talking about - and so did he. 

“...I heard you, too, y’know.”

Ah, you can now live your life happily knowing that you managed to make the ever-confident Toji gasp. You managed to make him part his lips in a slight gape, green eyes glinting with a hint of something dangerous as they widen. His sensory digits pinch at your hips. 

“You mean-”

“Yes.”

Uncharacteristically, Toji takes a few gulping seconds to find his voice. And when he does - the very sound is enough to send shivers down your spine and make you wonder for a split-second whether this was really him. Hoarse, pained when he muses, “You heard me and still continued?”

Instantly, you’re trying to form excuses. “No! I mean- yes. It’s just that…”

“Heh, cute. You continued because of me- didn’t ya?”

Your jaw drops in shock, now a slightly defensive tone bleeding in with the embarrassment of your actions. “I-I mean I was doing- it- just fine before I heard you.”

Toji cocks his head, and only says one thing - “Prove it.”

.

.

.

“T-Toji this is embarrassing-”

But oh, all that Toji was wondering was whether he’d knocked his head on that goddamn dryer and gone to heaven already. 

Because splayed out for all his pleasure on the cushiony bed was you - quivering legs straddled wide open, your back arched in such a delicious curve that makes his mouth water. Your silken sheets were disheveled and sloppy enough that you’d have to pray the dryer works now. Glistening cunt winking down at him eagerly, just begging him in cute, slurring squelches after every buzzing push of your vibrator.

And Toji? Seated right underneath your cute cunt - hovering mere inches away from sitting on his cocky smirk. 

All he’d been imagining. As gorgeous as how he’d imagined you yesterday- no, even more so.

Toji’s leering up at you, muscular thighs manspreading even more to show off his furiously hard erection. “Shhh sh sh-” Toji hums, eyes unwavering from right between your legs. “She’s the one talkin’ to me right now, doll.”

And surely enough, it’s almost like he’s having a conversation with your pussy. Nodding and drunkenly humming along to every slurp that resounds across the heady room. “Tha’s right, make her- make her even wetter for me.”

He’s letting loose his long pinkish tongue to catch the drops of your sweet, sweet juices that slide down his throat. 

His breath is so steaming hot against your cunt. Feverish. You huff out a dragged-out whine, kissing up your plump clit with the very edge of your rose toy. Just barely teasing the sensitive hood, “B-but I need you so-”

“Now now, what did I say?” he tuts away your stubborn moans easily. And you’re gazing over your shoulder upon the utterly unapologetic grin that falls across Toji’s face when he tugs down his own pants to flash you with the fat, rotund curve of his ruddied tip. Curling his fingers over the very top, “You don’t need me, remember- Let that pretty pussy talk with me or all you’re gonna do is watch.”

Except now you didn’t think you could talk even if you wanted to.

Your eyes are glazing over with a fresh wall of need when they fall greedily upon the peaking sight of Toji’s fat cock. So massive that it makes your jaw slip open, your cunt gushing out in a few gushes of slick. 

“Oh shit- shit-” his eyes widen at the sight, so thoroughly honed in. Almost as if he doesn’t even realize he’s speaking to you. Doesn’t even know. And a few ringing squelches is all it takes for him to throw his head back with a groan. “That got ya wet, ma, didn’t it? Made your cute ngh- c-cunt happy?”

“Yes-” you’re gasping, winking away the overstimulated tears in your eyes. “B-but I want you-”

“Tell me exactly  what you want, doll.”

So bossy, you want to snap back. 

But right now you’re too hypnotized by the slutty sight of him to say a word. The way he seemed so ruined. That you can’t help but whimper, “I want you to hah- make me cum.”

And it’s just a split-second later when his brawny arms come wrapping around your jittery waist, hauling you over like some glorified rag doll to seat your fatigued legs down. Your dripping cunt meeting his mouth in a sultry, sultry French kiss. 

He doesn’t waste a second longer - almost as if beating himself up for all the time wasted - before dragging his tongue to open your presoaked folds. Swirling so hotly to smear them out across his lips, Toji dredges his raised scar across your most tender spots and moans. 

Sweet.

So sweet.

“This- this fuckin’ delicious?” He sounded like he was losing his mind, swatting aside your hand. “Move that fuckin’ hand. Y-you were- you were holding out on this? Could eat this cute cunt all the time- could marry ya-”

Proposing and proposing and kissing-

He latches down his glistening canines around your clit and pinches, almost as if a little punishment. And you could practically see the delight lighting up his dark eyes when your cunt slowly grows even more drenched. Little masochist, he’s thinking. 

You yelp when without any sort of warning his cheeks hollow out in a sudden suck at your sensitive nub, swirling his tongue over it. “H-how’s that feel?” he giggles - giggles. “Better than your imagination or what?”

It already was. 

But you couldn’t let his ego expand anymore than it already has, so the only thing you’re managing to do is trap a few sweat-dampened locks of his hair and drag your slobbering cunt down Toji’s mean mouth. Partly because you needed it, partly because you needed him to shut up. 

Choking out, “D-don’t get so full of yourself, Toji–”

“Full of myself?” he’s chuckling - face smeared with a translucent mask of glistening slick that told you exactly why he should be full of himself. It glosses over his curled lips and drips down Toji’s sharp jawline. “Full of myself? Gimme that-”

Instantly, your till buzzing vibrator is being snatched meanly out of your hands. “S’this what ya want, instead, ma?”

Toji didn’t expect an answer.

And you can’t give him one.

Because that furiously jittery probe is being bullied right between your puffy pussy lips, licking a languid line down the edge of your sloppy hole. Before he’s bullying the long end inside your eager entrance-

“Does it feel good?” he’s taunting. Sinking down onto your clit and pulling. “Oh yeah- feels great. Doesn’t it?”

But it’s such a mouthful that sputtered out into your clit. The vibrations of white-hot pleasure making your spine bow like such a slut into Toji’s ravenous mouth. And your jaw slack open in the most strained of whines, “Y-yeah feels so-mmpf-”

Immediately, your mouth is being firmly shut closed with one of Toji’s mountainous palms, and he snickers. Giving you pretty lil’ cunt a pat that has splatters of slick speckling all the way to his lips - ones that he gladly licks up. And then some at the remnant excess all over your thighs. “I was talking to her.”

“Y-you’re so mean.”

At this, he pulls back and blows a heated gust of air against your puckered hole. “And you’re fucking drenched.” That spearing bullet is lodged firmly against a few tenderized sweet spots that make you keen. “And she’s saying…s’not enough.”

You were sure he was talking for himself. 

Or…was he? 

Honestly, you don’t even know - you didn’t even realize what you were missing until the fat girths of Toji’s digits shove their filthy way into your narrow opening. Already so stuffed, yet, he’s scissoring aside the vibrator into the gooey depths of your walls. 

Either you could take him or he’ll make space. 

Whistling out in awe, “Dontcha think this feels muuuch better?” As if to whittle out another one of your syrupy sweet noises, you’re being gifted with another sopping wet thwack! against the ready nub of your clit. Before Toji wraps his scarred lips around it and sucks. “Look- she’s even fuckin’ wetter.”

You didn’t even have to see to be able to know - because you could hear. 

Toji was steadily pummeling your cunt with the most staggering smashes of the rounded curves of his fingertips into your sweetest spots. Jostling the vibrator inside, knuckles smashing it with friction to rub up against your constricting walls. 

Honestly, it was just so much. You felt stuffed. 

“F-feels like m’gonna explode.” you mewl at the heady thump! thump! thump! shuddering all across your body - and you didn’t know whether it was because of the thundering pulse in your ears, because of the way Toji’s fingers were crashing and thrusting against your tender g-spot. His neatly cut fingernails glide soaking wet grazes over and over in a sloppy staccato. “Ah! Right there, it f-feels so good-”

“Tch, you think I don’t know?” Toji’s rolling his eyes, muttering his words into your sopping slit. His free hand comes slamming down in a harsh smack! against your ass to make you lug against his face faster. “Ride yourself on me, ma.”

You stumble through it - yearning for more. 

“Faster.”

“I-I’m trying.’”

But it wasn’t enough. Obviously. 

And Toji’s impatiently revolving one hand around the curve of your waist to make you press down hard in the most sultry gyrations. Around and around it had him hypnotized. “Not tryin’ hard ‘nough. Cuz this pretty lady h-here’s just crying to cum, doll. Ya hear her?”

How could you not?

It’s all that you replay in your mind. Accompanied with a shot ngh ngh ngh that was curdling at the very back of Toji’s throat. Whispered into every graze of his tongue down your slit, you took a quick glance backwards to catch the way that he was properly fucking his fist now. 

Long, thorough drags down his achy cock to bead out wet sloshes of precum. Only getting faster. Sloppier. Red and angry-

“Shit.” you’re whimpering, hands steadying on either side of his bulging deltoids. It felt like your very bones were rattling along with the vibrator. Nails digging in to the muscle, “I th-think m’close- think m’gonna-”

And oh Toji’s eyes stray to the back of his head at how reminiscent this was of just yesterday. Snickering a heavy, “You ‘think’? I know she’s so fuckin’ close. Can feel her. Isn’t she? Gonna cum? Gonna make a ngh- mess on me, is she?”

Answeringly, he’s leaving another few smacks! on your mound that have your gooey walls fluttering, the double penetration of both the buzzing bullet and his fingers too much. Too close. You feel every delicate bundle of your nerves exasperate. 

And it’s impossible not to mumble out drunkenly - embarrassingly. “Sh-she is.”

It’s so rough.

Both your release and the way that Toji was fucking you through it - because the very moment he hears your breath hitch in a saturated manner similar to last time, he’s tugging out your buzzing vibrator and toppling it somewhere over the bed. Replacing it with every long inch of his heated tongue- 

Like hell he’d have you cumming on some damn plastic before his tongue.

“Shit- it feels so-” Barely managing to formulate the words into coherent syllables. Your body convulses when he swiftly pecks your pretty clit with the rose toy instead. “-so good- ngh! M’cumming m’cumming ah-”

Toji’s fucking you through your high with the double stimulation of his fingers and his tongues spreading open your snug insides mercilessly. Ruthlessly. Wave upon wave of pleasure that had your toes curling, vision flashing white. Sensitive pussy dredging up from the very bottom of his sharp chin all the way up to his button nose. 

It’s adorable how tired you were already, already huffing and puffing for breath. He could almost laugh if he didn’t have a mouthful already.

“Yeah tha’s right-” he slurps, more than talks. Thick digits curling tight and thumbing over his twitchy divot to wall up that velvety wisp of cum from escape. Leaving kiss after kiss to have your drooling cunt ride his sexy features faster. “-give it t’me.” Greedy. “Give it alllll to me.”

But even that didn’t seem like enough.

Because even after your aggressive orgasm was petering out into mere tingles at your quivering pussy, even after he’d slurped up every tiny drop of your honeyed juices - Toji Fushiguro was starved. 

So completely ravenous when he speaks, “I think…she’s sayin she wants ta squirt, doll.”

“Wh-what?” you’re breathing - you didn’t even know if that was possible.

With a surprising amount of gentleness, Toji’s placing you to sit all prettily on his spread legs. Just slobbering your pussy lips in an innocent smooch over his hardness. 

“Heh, what? Don’t trust me?” Toji cocks his head down at you in sheer smugness, a glistening gloss stained all around his lips. It made him look so fucked-out. And he felt like he already was - but Toji wouldn’t admit that. No, he’s only murmuring a wet, “Or are ya scared that m’gonna get ya ah- addicted?”

You showcase him with a slight pout that makes his riled-up cock twitch in one hand. That makes him immediately kiss it away - letting you taste him. Taste yourself. 

It’d already taken everything in him to stop himself from cumming just by making out with your cunt. 

“No s’just that- I’ve never squirted before…”

His words are sure. Confident. He’s echoing them from not too long ago, “Lemme take a look at that.”

And apparently Toji’s definition of taking a look is to slide the curve of his thick thumb in-between your dribbling slit. Up and down until his lips curl in a smile, “Well she’s tellin’ me that she can-oh shit, look at that.” Those very same fingers wrapping around the hilt of his thick cock to nudge your folds apart. “So why don’t I fix that, hm?”

God, Toji is so much bigger than he looked - which was staggering considering his sheer bulge was enough to send your mind reeling.

The curve of his fat tip bathes in a few more of your syrupy drops before bullying inside-

“O-oh my god-” Your voice wavers, sweat simmering all down your body at how dizzyingly Toji was spearheading your cunt open. Wide. So much of him that you didn’t know whether to buck your hips away or down for more, more, more- “S’too big- shit, don’t even know if I can ngh- t-take it, Toji–!”

“Oh, say my name like that once more n’ you’re gonna ah- hafta take every inch.” he grunts out, snarling smile making your gummy walls flutter around him. 

You’re being fed every solid inch, Toji’s girth making your tight circumference stutter. Gaping your sloppy hole wide open around his expanding cock- shit, just the slightest peak into your heavenly depths was enough to have his fat length swelling. Pushing into your tender sweet spots when he grows. 

“Y-you got even bigger?” you gasp, and it makes him cackle.

Throwing his head back to laugh, “Of course I got f-fuckin’ bigger when you feel like this, ma.” And two of his roughened palms glide their greedy pathway downwards to spread your thighs even further. Using gravity to his lewd advantage to help you gulp down your every mindless grind to simply fit himself inside. “W-where have ya been all my life.”

And Toji sounded like he was genuinely distraught that he didn’t know. 

He was genuinely so upset, lower lip wobbling with pure bliss once your overstuffed pussy was resting on his sharp hip bones. Giving an experimental little gyration of his hips to swirl his shaft around your walls, it makes you whine. 

“Tha’s what m’fuckin’ talking about.”

And then in a split-second, you’re being slammed onto your back and wrangled into the meanest mating press you never thought possible. 

It’s like Toji was out of control. 

Feral.

A slight trickle of drool trailing down the edge of his growling lips, “Shit- take my fucking cock ngh- take it all, doll. Ya don’t know how long I’ve been d-dreaming of this.”

“Yes yes yes-” you sputter. Edging your uselessly limp thighs to lock around Toji’s straining neck - and if he was going easy on you before. Then oh, you weren’t ready for the way this makes him snap his flexing body down to fold you in half. His sweat-beaded forehead knocking gently into yours, “-been ah- been dreamin’ of this ever since I m-moved in-”

Shit.

The thick pudge of Toji’s relentless head careens into the bullseye of your g-spot easily. And Toji titters to himself about the pretty moans that drag from your shot throat - that is, if he had the self-control.

Because your previous words were still thundering in his pussydrunken mind, and it makes him gasp. It makes him shoot his eyes open almost comically, it makes him crash his lips into your with a sullen hiss. “Give a man a fuck- warning. You c-can’t just say- things- like- that-”

As if to prove his point, he’s planting a few more heated French kisses against your sweetest spots. How he mapped them out so quickly you had no idea. 

His feverish breath hovers over your own mouth, gusts bounding out with every pound into your cunt. He’s bruising the circular branding of his sobbing tip down your spongy cervix, a tiny ah! of disappointment leaving Toji’s stern lips at the recoil that had him pushing back from the very bottom of your pussy. 

He’s so filthy. 

“Because what if–” It takes you a few seconds to realize that he’s still babbling drunkenly, flicking over a calloused thumb over your clit to get your delirious attention. “-are ya listening, woman? What- ah- what if I told ya I was the fuckin’ same. Wanted to f-fuck this cute cunt the moment I saw ya, wanted to ruin her- to breed her-”

And just when he’s heaving in such a sharp inhale. As if he’s spoken too much.

Yet, even through the way that Toji was fucking you stupid - you still manage to latch onto his words. 

“Y-you wanted to ah- cum inside?” you’re blinking up at him innocently in a way that only made his hips jackhammer against yours harder. Teasing your sensitive clit with a pinch. “Tell me, Toji.”

God- you said his name. 

Shit shit shit, didn’t he tell you not to-

“Yes!” Toji’s shuddering out, hefty balls twitching and thwacking their tight, cum-filled sacks against your ass. He’s fucking you so wildly. The mating press that he had you in let him glide a wet thrust down every single nook and cranny inside you. Every forbidden sweet spot. “Wanted- wanted it so badly- ah-”

Batting your teary lashes, “How badly?”

Two of Toji’s mean fingers come up to smush your cheeks together into an embarrassing pout, and he’s using that cutely ajar opening of your mouth to spit. A thick, honeyed wad of saliva that purposefully splatters along the edge of your lips - because Toji had perfect aim. He could’ve streamlined it all neatly between your lips.

But you looked and tasted so sweet this way.

When he could just kiss it away filthily with a drag of his tongue, “Shit- what a filthy fuckin’ mouth. Ya really know how to m-make me lose my mind, hm?” Splaying out one large palm about halfway down your stomach, he’s exploring for a lewd cylindrical nudge. A throb when his thickened head was smashing into your g-spot. “If ya i-insist- m’gonna fill ya up until I can feel it-” Pressing down. Hard. “Here.” And now he’s running his mouth a mile a minute, he’s dazed where his cadence grows sloppy. “Until you’re overspilling. Until yer all r-round and hngh- glowing and shit-”

God, he was flying too close to the sun.

Egging him on, he was fucking you into the bed like he was furious at you. Lurching out rickety creaks from the bedframe at his riotous slams! Teasing, “S-s’that it?”

“Is that it? I-is that it?” he’s repeating. Over and over like a humorless mantra. “No tha’s not- ah- fucking ‘it’. M’gonna shit- make you mine. Gonna fuck a b-baby or two into ya.” Shockwaves of electric white flashing down his spine when your gripping walls cling around him like a velvety channel. Stumbling through words, “So they’re gonna know- ah- th-they’re all gonna know what I did. Hah- how I ruined ya…”

You can only sob, “Toji– m’gonna-”

Stimulating tears gather up beside Toji’s eyelids with every pressurized ram, and he finds it in himself to rasp a drunken giggle. “G-gonna give Megumi a lil’ sibling, ma?”

He doesn’t have to hear your response, he doesn’t think he can. Because no sooner are you crashing into your orgasm that Toji is as well. 

He realizes before you - far, far before you at how you were squirting. 

Drizzling your juices in a coating gloss down his cock, his abs, some spattering up to Toji’s lips. He took a look into it alright. 

Your bolting waves of bliss intruded by his rummaging cock. Twitching once. Twice. Before struggling out thick gushes of sweltering hot seed. 

It’s splattering onto the very back of your bruised and battered cervix in a wet thwack! Oozing out the sides of your silt, you feel your gummy walls being inflated. The tug of ribbons upon ribbons of cum being fucked into sloshes inside and coats your melty walls like a second, sticky skin.

THUD!

Toji collapses onto his wearied forearms, caging you in with his big beefy biceps. Hips slowing down to tiny, subconscious ruts wrenching out the most obscene wet squelches. “Th-the heh- the fuckin’ bed.”

Only then are you batting your fatigued eyes open to realize that one side of the bed was sagging dangerously. “Toji did you b-break the bed?”

“Ah- so what?” And he’s scooping up your pliant body easily into his arms. Lifting you. Manhandling you. Pulling out of your split cunt for just a second to slam! you down onto your nearby work desk. The cool mahogany against your front makes you hiss, “I’ll jus’ t-take a ah- look at it.”

With this, he’s pressing down on the slightly bloated area near your cunt. Gaping. Gushing out thick remnants of his cum - it’s like he was playing around. 

The sight so heavenly that with a dragged-out gasp he’s finding his weepy cock blast out a few more wispy strands of cum. Shit.

“Shit- marry me-” Toji’s throwing his head back with a whimper - a whimper - when his jolting cock veers dangerously into the territory of shooting overstimulated blanks. “Marry me I-I swear. Gonna ah- put a pretty ring on ya, my doll.”

Which is why he’s swirling around his greedy pointer around your gaping entrance. Toying with the creamy ring of seed that’d painted its way around his thick base. Toji pools a few creamy dredges on his fingers and shoves them into your babbling mouth. “Ngh- Toji–!”

“Nowww, let’s see ngh- already finished off th-the bed-” he’s rattling off. Counting on a few fingers of his, “-we have the ohhh fuck- don’t squeeze m-me like that, ma, m’still sensitive- this desk, the floor- the dryer.”

“The dryer?” you mewl. “But you j-jus’ fixed that-”

“Ah, consider it a lil’ payment…along with those panties of yours, of course.”

And it’s only later. 

Hours and hours later, with your bed frame broken on one leg, your desk absolutely shattered, and your carpet soiled with a few whiteish rivulets that you’re finding yourself seated into a tight full nelson on top of the dryer. Toji still splitting you apart inside, shooting blanks before the front door rattles with a sudden knock! knock! knock! 

A deep voice resounding from outside, “Anybody home? It’s Shiu Kong. Higuruma sent me here to fix the dryer.”

“Fuckin’ Shiu…wanna let him in?”

---

“Hello, Shiu? How did the fixing go?” It’s by the next day that Higuruma gets a call in the middle of his important business meeting. One that would probably stay with him for a long, long time. “What do you mean the dryer is broken beyond repair?!”

A/N. Hope you all have a lovely week <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

[nkogneatho]

SANTA'S CUMMING TO TOWN

—fushiguro toji x fem!reader

#TAPE NO 1 OF 'Tis the Season to be Naughty

—cw: breeding, santa kink (idk bruh i am all high and horny), mention on pregnancy, prone bone, raw sex, spanking, dirty talking, nick names. (art creds: yy6241 on ig)

—a/n: 1.2k words of everything that is wrong with me

Christmas wasn't particularly the most awaited time of the year for Toji. You on the other hand? You made sure that your place looked like the Christmas Spirit threw up garlands, trees and cute lights all over.

"Can you pass me those lights?" you ask Toji who was hanging the pinecones on the tree.

"Tell me why we're doin' this again?"

"Because it's Christmas. It's the season of joy. Oh, by the way," you gently step down from the table that helped you a gain a foot to put on the decorations, "gumi's friends are coming tomorrow so make sure to dress up as a santa."

"What?" He is stunned. It's not that he doesn't like kids but to have all their excited eyes on him would give him quite the stage fright.

"Please Please Toji. I know you don't like this kinda stuff but gumi was so excited the other day to see santa."

"What's in it for me?"

"You want a bribe for dressing up to make your son happy?" Your arms fold against your chest and you look at him with a poker face.

"Of course. That little brat gets spoiled way too much by you. When's my turn?"

"Toji. It's either the santa costume or the shark costume and dancing on baby shark for an hour"

*GASP*

"Hope ya know Santa doesn't like you, sweetheart." He walks away after giving you a nasty look. You know he doesn't mean it. He is cute when he is all pouty.

The party felt like forever. You send Megumi off to Shiu's place with his son and his mom. They were gonna have a sleepover. Megumi was a raging introvert just like his father so him having a best friend was a big deal for you.

"So the dishes are done. The extra party hats are in the cupboard, the floor is clean and y—" You stop your moving feet and look at the view in front of you. "And Santa hasn't left yet."

"Well...I still have one bad girl on my list. Thought I'd take care of that." He steps closer. The heat emitting from his body already reaching to hug your skin.

"But I've been your good girl, haven't I?" your doe eyes flutter at him, your fingers curling his white faux beard.

"Nah sweetheart. You've been so bad. You've barely paid any attention to me all month. Don'tcha think ya should get punished for that?" His grainy voice grazes against your neck. You try so hard to come up with a quick witty answer to turn this into a wholesome conversation but that was down the drain the moment he put that thing on. You were never into the whole santa thing until now. All blame goes to the man underneath the costume.

"P-punished?" You clear you throat. "Like?" You wait for an answer but you don't get one. Well, at least not in words.

Toji picks you up bridal style and walks to the cozy mattress next to the christmas tree and the gifts.

"Gonna give you a full experience, doll."

Everytime you fuck, Toji's always the one to get undressed first. He is too impatient to feel you against him. But tonight, you're the only one getting undressed. Your dress pools on your stomach as calloused hands hike it up.

"Toj—"

"tsk tsk. address me properly, naughty girl."

"Santa! Need you inside me.

"Heh. Not so soon, darling. Gotta punish you first." In a split second, you're turned on your belly, face pushed against the pillow. Toji inhales a sharp breath watching your exposed ass. A quick spank is landed on your them, making your husband hard as your plump skin bounces.

"Look at'cha. Such a slut. getting all wet with just a spank? what you gon' do when santa fills up your hole, doll?"

*spank*

"Ah! Fuck. I am so sorry, Santa. I promise I'll be a good girl f'you" you mewl.

"Promise? ight. Let's test that." You hear him shuffle. His fingers unbuckle the comically large belt and tugging down the pants just enough to expose his throbbing cock. He pumps it a few times before slapping the precum covered tip on your butt cheeks, the slight wet feeling on your skin turning you on even more. Toji grabs a cushion and settles it between the floor and your stomach so your pussy is easily visible. It's shameful. You know you're so wet that it's traveling down your thigh and drenching the cushion.

You feel his cockhead rub against your slick, opening the folds.

"Shit. She's dripping, sweetheart. Don't even need to stretch ya tonight. You ready for Santa's cock?"

He doesn't even give you a chance to answer before he is slowly forcing it in your pussy. Emerald eyes not even blinking for a second out of fear of missing even a single frame of the way you swallow him.

"Fuuuuuck!" you cry out at the stretch.

"Attagirl. Took it all in once. Keep it up and I might take you off my bad list, baby."

He starts off a few gentle strokes to get you used to it all before he puts his arms on your back, pushing you further against the mattress as he starts pounding into you like an animal.

"Fuckfuckfuck fucking god! I love your pussy. You feel so fucking good. Ughhh"

"Ah! Ah! Ah! Santa, pl—please. You're so big."

"I know, baby. But—ugh—you're takin' me sooo well. Fuck! Yeah, baby c'mon. Grind that ass on my cock. Yeaaaah just like that fuck!"

"G-gunna cum, anh anh ffu—ngh," you cry and your tears are soaked by the pillows. In another second, you're coming undone on his cock, screaming his name.

"Good girl. Good. Fucking. Girl." Each word enunciated with a deep plunge in your shivering pussy.

"You've been such a good girl. Santa's gonna give you a gift." Toji picks up his pace again, rolling his hips faster, the faux beard chafing your shoulders as he is putting all his weight on you, all his instincts telling him to breed you.

"Gunna give my sweet doll the greatest gift. You better take it all. 'm gonna make sure your pussy does. goddaaaamn nghh—" A few more deep thrusts and soon he is losing his composure, cumming and painting your insides with his thick leak.

"You better return the gift in nine months doll." You're too fucked in your brain to even register what he said.

The next morning you're not even making eye contact with Toji, too embarrassed to accept you were turned on by something so innocent. Good thing Megumi comes by the door running, helping you avoid the situation for a little longer.

"Aww come here, my boy. Did you have fun at Uncle Shiu's?" He nods. His little arms coming to hug you.

"So what gift ya got brat?" Toji asks the little sea urchin.

"I got a pink tiger with a red color bow. He is the best. I named him Yuuji." You chuckle, wiping the drool from corner of his lips. "And we ate fortune cookies."

"ohh! what did your cookie say?"

"It said Santa will bring a little sister next year." Blood rushes to your cheeks, your face heating up at the little boy's innocent comment, sounding completely sinful after scenes from last night play in your head. You bite the insides of your cheek.

"Mhm. Hope he does, babe." He kisses the top of the boy's head and then your temple. Yeah he is not the Christmas kinda guy. But this might be his new favorite holiday now.

[classyrbf]

COME HOME! — TOJI FUSHIGURO

SYNOPSIS...you’re afraid one day he won’t come home, leaving you in a constant state of worry and fear of what could happen especially with his family in on the line

INFO...toji fushiguro x ex assassin fem!reader, fluff with some angst, domestic relationship, megumi is readers bio kid, toji an assassin, mentions of blood, sweet ending, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

i'm sorry for being gone for so long and not writing anything or even sticking to my kinktober plan, quite literally fell into a black hole of unmotivation and writing smut was not helping at all lmao

The night was brutal, cold air striking your skin and the winds were sharp. Yet, you sat by the cracked window, your skin felt like it was on fire. Police sirens flooded the silence and the small dim lamp did its best to light up the room. With your knees tucked to your chest, you sat and watched the cars drive by, one of the streetlights flickering every now and again. Little Megumi slept soundly in his room, tucked warmly in his bed with his favorite stuffed dinosaur. You had been up for hours, waiting for Toji to come back home from his job.

You lived with worry that one day he wouldn’t show up, come back home to you and his son. What he did was dangerous, being an assassin and what not. He always brags about how he’s the best, so fast and strong, silent as a mouse that most of them don’t even get the chance. But, what if there’s someone out there who is strong enough to put up a fight? What if he gets caught? Seriously injured? That’s what makes you worry. You knew what you were getting yourself into from the moment you met him because you also used to be an assassin, but as soon as you found out you were pregnant, that lifestyle was cut short. You’d never do anything to put your son in danger.

Many talks between you Toji about changing what he does, doing something better, safer, always led to arguments. It’s like killing was the only thing he knew how to do. It’s sad to say. But you couldn’t help but love him, and worry for him, care for him. You only wanted Megumi to be safe. The job was a dangerous one. Creating enemies along the way, a target painted on your head. You just needed him to come home. Nervously biting at your nails, your eyes scanned the streets and tops of the grungy apartment buildings. You always wanted to move out of this damn city, but Toji said it’d be too obvious if you two moved somewhere nice, somewhere you couldn’t blend in. As much as you hate to admit it, he was right. You just didn’t want Megumi growing up here, turning out like you or his father. You wanted better for your son.

The rattling of the doorknob makes your head spin, jumping to your feet before even thinking. You were on full alert, hoping whoever walks in was your husband and your husband only. Your eyes narrowed, the bulky frame of Toji stumbling through the doorway, his skin pale and shining with sweat. He slammed the door behind him, groaning in pain as he dragged his feet across the floor and to the nearest chair. He didn’t look too well.

Immediately, you walked out of the living room and into the kitchen, assessing him with a worried look in your eye. “Toji, baby?” You nearly fall over when you cup his face, his nose bloody and lip busted. You don’t even notice he’s holding his side. “What the fuck happened?” You’re cupping his face, eyes scanning his finger when you see the copious amounts of blood on his hands. Lifting his shirt, you see the huge gash on his side. “Fucking hell.”

“Missed you too, sweets,” he struggles to even speak, letting out a pained sigh. “Where’s the kid?” He asks, looking at you rummaging through the cabinets for the first aid kit.

“He’s fine, sleeping. Why?” You glance over your shoulder, snatching the first aid off of the shelf. You kneel in front of him, taking the bottle of alcohol and pouring it straight onto the wound.

“Fuck!” He screams, slamming his hand on the table. “Son of a bitch!” He hisses, clenching his eyes shut. “Could’ve warned me, you know?” He breathed heavily, his chest heaving up and down.

“Would’ve been worse if I did. Answer my questions,” you demand, wiping the blood around his wound while applying pressure.

“Fucker that got me knew about you and the kid. Though…shit—thought someone else might’ve came after you two. I tried getting here as fast as I could,” he sighs. His eyes flutter shut, clenching his fists so hard the whites of his knuckles show. “Don’t worry, I killed him. Obviously.”

“Yeah, he still fucked you up pretty good though.” You shake your head, grabbing the bandage and placing it over the gash. “I told you Toji, we need to leave, find somewhere safer, better. You need to quiet this shit, okay? We got a fucking kid to look out for—”

“Mommy? Daddy?” The soft sound of Megumi’s voice made you spin. He rubs his tired eyes, clinging onto his stuffed dinosaur. “Is daddy okay? I heard him yell.”

“I’m okay, Megs.” Toji flashes a smile. “Mommy’s just helping me with something and then I’ll come tuck you back in, alright? Go back to bed.” He points back to his room.

“Daddy’s okay, baby,” you say softly. Megs just nods and tiredly shuffles back into his room. A deep sigh escapes your lips as you wrap the gauze tightly around his torso before cutting it with the scissors and tucking it under. You toss the scissors to the floor, standing back to your feet to rid your hands of his blood. This is what you were afraid of. This is what you didn’t want. You were a mother now and you knew just how cruel this world was.

You take a rag and wet it under the water before gently lifting his chin, and wiping the blood from his nose. You’ve done this too many times before, it was practically like muscle memory. Stitching yourself up, wiping the blood that seeped into your skin and now you’re doing the same for him. His hands find your waist, squeezing gently while you stand between his legs and Toji forgets about the pain for a moment. His glossy eyes look up at you and he realizes what he has. A wife, a son, a family who cares about him, loves him. You’re always so gently yet so affirmative and he’s reminded why he fell in love with you. You make up every part of him that was missing.

“I’m sorry.” His voice and raspy and delicate. “I know I scared you when I walked through the door like this.” He gently grabs your wrist, pulling your hand from his face. “Look at me, baby.” And when your eyes meet his, he can tell just how worried you are, how much you’re hiding just to seem strong. “I’m sorry.”

Tears well up in your eyes and they’re falling before you could blink them away. “I’m so scared you won’t walk through the door one day, Toji. I wait by the window, watching and listening. Looking out for our baby boy. I don’t want that day to come when you’re not here because of this stupid fucking job,” you cry, looking away from him as you sob into your hands.

His heart breaks at your cries, pulling you down into his chest despite the pain he’s in because he couldn’t care less about that right now. He soothingly rubs your back, placing a kiss on your head. “We’ll leave tomorrow. Everything. Move somewhere else. Start a new life. I fucking promise you. I should’ve listened to you before and I’m so sorry.” His voice shakes with each word. “You don’t know how scared I was to walk in here thinking something might’ve happened to you and Megs. Just thinking about that…fuck…I can’t imagine.” He shakes his head. You cling onto him, holding him tightly. “I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you too,” you sniffle. Lifting your head, you gently caress his cheek with the pad of your thumb, searching his eyes and you see is sadness and sincerity. “Tomorrow. Promise?”

“I promise, baby. Me, you, and the kid. We’ll all get outta here. Go somewhere nice. Maybe a beach, watch him play in the sand?” Toji chuckles. You nod, laughing. “There’s that smile,” he says.

“Daddy?” The little patters of Megumi’s feet make their way into the kitchen. “Are you still gonna tuck me in?” He pouts.

Toji looks at you and then at his son. You hop off of his lap and he stands up as if nothing is wrong, but still walking with a slight limp and his hand holding his side. “Come here, kid.” He scoops him up with arm like he weighed nothing. “How about you sleep with me and mommy tonight, huh?” He reaches to ruffle Megumi’s hair. You walk over to the both of them, your chest feeling warm, a smile adorning your face. Megumi leans his head on Toji’s shoulder, quickly shutting his eyes. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt: Valentine's day spirit. Superbat edition.

When Phantom sets foot on the Justice League base many years later, he expects anything but not Flash pointing finger at him and screaming about "legendary child who made Superbat canon".

~~~~

Being in Metropolis because of a ghost hunt right in the middle of a battle between Lex Luthor and Superman was not the best outcome, especially considering that Jack had his three-year-old son with him. But without such a combination of circumstances, they would never have found out that "Ghost!" "Daddy, no!" Ectoblast that Jack shot at the target of their hunt touches Superman and..really hurts him.

There were two sides to Danny-the ghostbuster's son and the astronerd. It is clear which half of him did not have a chance to win.

Danny threw his space rocket toy aside and grabbed father's arm. In the next second, boy had already sunk his teeth into Jack's fingers, forcing him to drop weapon. Youngling quickly jumped off and picked up ectoblast and then ran towards Superman. "Fly away! I'll hold him!" Danny stood up to try to cover up ghost (or alien?) in case Dad took not one but a whole bunch of shooting things with him again.

Jack: Get away from my son, ghost. Superman: Sir, I'm sure this is some kind of misunderstanding, I'm not a ghost. Jack: Danny, come to me, he's trying to hide his identity and manipulate us. Danny: No. If the heroes are being attacked, then someone must protect them too. Jack: But he's a ghost.. Danny: Alien or ghost is not so important, Daddy. He's in pain, and he's protecting this city, not haunting it. It's wrong to try to catch him for experiments. I forbid you to do that. Jack: Danny, champ, you're wrong.

Lex: Hah, what an interesting substance. Despite the other aggregate state, or rather its absence, it is so similar to kryptonite. Superman: Lex, is this a portable lab? Now is not the time, in case you haven't noticed. Lex: There is always time for science. I think my colleague will agree, right? "Similar to kryptonite?" Jack muttered to himself.

Jack: So Superman wasn't my target. And we are not colleagues. There is only one insanely rich man with questionable moral values with whom I am ready to do work, and your surname is clearly not Masters. Lex: It's a pity, but still, if you want to carry out the delivery of your wonderful weapons or exchange experiences, then call this number. Luther quickly shoves a business card into Fenton's hand. Jack*throws it away*: Come on, son, let's go back to the hotel, you've skinned your knees.

~~~The Evening. The Roof of the mentioned hotel~~~

"My friend Sam is also very frightening. And she also likes dark.“ The boy paused for a minute of thinking. “You want to kiss your goth friend?" "W-What makes you think that, kid. We’re colleagues, I respect him very much and.." "So you want to. It’s okay, I’d like to kiss Sam too but I’m afraid she’s gonna hit me. You have the same problem?" "It’s a little more complicated for adults." Kal begins to explain but stumbles upon Danny’s completely unimpressed look. Yeah, this boy apparently has heard 'kids would understand when they grow up' lectures at least thousand times. "But you’re basically right."

~~~~

When Batman himself comes to their hotel the next day as a representative of the Justice League to make sure that Mr. Fenton has no desire to harm Superman in the future and to tell that Superman is not going to press charges because of the ectoblast that injured him, Danny refuses to leave the room.

Jack: Oh, Danny, I thought you dropped your space rocket yesterday, it's a good that Alicia's Christmas present isn't lost. Danny: Well, dad, I left it on the roof of a bad bad man, yeah, but Uncle Kal returned it last night and we talked for a while. Jack: About what? Space, my little star? *Father immediately assumes that Danny would like to ask about everything real alien*. Boy*blushes and shakes his head negatively*: No, not about it.

Jack: Then what it was about? Danny: Secret superhero things. I can't tell you. I agreed to withhold that information as part of a pinky swear. Batman: And what about me, young man? You can tell me, right? Batman couldn't resist talking with such a cute kid. The boy thinks only for a second before hurriedly trying to push his father out of the room. Danny: Dad, come out for a minute and don't eavesdrop. I'll tell you when you can come in. The big man laughingly obeys. Lil child checks the reliability of the closed door and runs up to Batman. Danny: And so, Mr. Batman, first promise not to laugh or hit Uncle Kal. Batman: I promise? Danny: Good. This is very important information. Batman: I'm listening.

Danny: He thinks you're terrifying and wants to kiss you. And since he is afraid that you will hit him for this, I recommended him to appease you with a pie cooked according to his mother's recipe. Well, you know, since you love sweets and his parents' farm has the most wonderful apples in all states. He rarely cooks himself, but he will try for you, so even if he doesn't succeed, pretend that you liked it, please. Batman:...

Batman: Would you like to work in intelligence for the Justice League when you grow up? Danny: Actually, I want to be an astronaut. Batman: Our base is located in space. Danny:

Danny: Hmm, then I'll think about your offer.

Batman: Great. It's a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Fenton. You can count on a job recommendation from me. Do you want anything as compensation for your consultation? Danny: Actually, yes. Mr. Batman, tell me honestly, are you a bat on a frugivorous diet like Giant golden-crowned flying fox or you are a Vampire Bat? Sam says that such a big bat can only be a vegetarian and uncle Kal said your son was more than happy to steal strawberries from his garden with Superboy but..

~~~

Batman tries to behave naturally for a week. However, the sweet tooth inside him still makes him clamp Superman in the corner and question him. "Where the hell are the pies you promised to cook for me, Clark?"

[sophiria]

Dulcis Amor

dad!Gojo Satoru x mom!Reader cw: 18+ themes, jjk manga spoilers, post-canon fix-it, references to babytrapping and mentions of birth control, a little bit of manipulation and deception, unmarried couple, twisted and fluffy feelings, vague mention of the reader's hair, implied that you're a little obsessed with each other words: around 900

Satoru was lounging on the Engawa, keeping a watchful gaze on your form inside the bedroom. As you slept peacefully under the blankets, your son fussed in his arms, and the hint of a smile appeared on his lips.

"Oh?" Satoru breathed out, shifting his child so he could rest better on his chest. "Is the little Gojo missing his mom?"

Your son wriggled slightly before going back to sleep. "Back to using me as a pillow, hm?" Satoru mused. "I guess your dad is okay too."

He had never thought a romantic partner was in his cards, let alone having a child. And yet…

He briefly closed his eyes, breathing in deeply. He had died. Murdered by Sukuna. And you made a Binding Vow to bring him back to life.

(Satoru had been furious with you—he had already accepted his death, and you had sacrificed something precious for him.

The Strongest had never known someone who cared for him as much as you did.)

His son stirred on his chest. Satoru looked down at your child. Fatherhood...who would have thought?

It only took one time, one burst of passion (and love, something Satoru could only acknowledge in his mind), and you were pregnant with his child, his heir.

As Satoru was lost in thought, you quietly joined him on the Engawa. Your expression softened as you gazed at your son sleeping soundly on his father's chest.

Satoru peered at you through his pitch-black glasses and motioned for you to join them. You did so and stopped beside the recliner where your lover and child rested.

You caressed your son's head before running your fingers through Satoru's hair, and he smirked softly. "You're such an affectionate mama," he teased, his voice low and hushed. "You're always spoiling us both."

You huffed before smiling, then gently picked up your son, who gripped onto your clothes with his tiny hands. He cooed, and you tickled his nose, making him laugh. Satoru's heart fluttered at the heartwarming sight, and he swallowed hard. He had to look away for a moment, taking a deep breath.

(That's his family. His beautiful little family. Something he never thought he'd have, something he never thought he'd wanted.)

You brought your little one inside, and he yawned as you placed him gently into the crib. 

Satoru followed you and wrapped his arms around your torso from behind. He nuzzled your neck, and his loose snow-white hair brushed against your skin. 

One of your hands found the nape of his neck and stroked it. He purred at your touch, relishing it. "I don't think I'm ever going to let you out of the Gojo estate."

You brushed your nose against his hair. "You won't, hm?"

Satoru lifted his head from the crook of your neck, and his sky-blue eyes found yours. "You're you and the mother of my child. Do you think I would allow any harm to come your way, especially now that you can no longer use Cursed Energy?"

You eyed him with a mixture of curiosity and apprehensiveness. "Since when are you this overprotective?"

He briefly narrowed his eyes. "Since you decided it was a good idea to sacrifice your cursed energy to bring me back."

You heaved a sigh. "Here we go again," you mumbled. "Satoru, I did it for you, I—"

"I know," he cut you off in a deep voice, raising to his full height before cupping one of your cheeks and angling your face towards his. "I know. But you shouldn't have sacrificed your cursed energy."

Your lips parted as you gazed into his eyes, though before you could reply, Satoru leaned forward and took your lips in an open-mouthed kiss. Your noses brushed against one another, and you closed your eyes. He opened his own, looking down at you through his lashes while slightly tightening his hold on your cheek and waist.

Satoru wondered if you were ever going to figure out that him getting you pregnant wasn't a mistake—that he chose to deactivate his Infinity while the two of you had sex.

(He had to do it. You sacrificed your nature as a sorcerer to bring his soul back to life, and he wanted to keep you safe and bound to him.)

You leaned back to breathe in some air and looked at him through half-lidded eyes. "I need to tell you something," you said, bringing your hand to his face to cup his cheek. "About the pregnancy."

Satoru's posture stiffened, although he managed to keep his expression nonchalant. "What about it?"

You began stroking his jawline. "Me getting pregnant...it wasn't a mistake, nor a malfunction of your cursed technique."

He desperately tried to keep a straight face. "Oh really? So you're telling me it wasn't my Infinity acting up?"

You hesitated, and your hand left his face. You then wrapped your arms around his upper body, snuggling up to him. The tension began to leave his body, and he held you to himself. "I was never on birth control," you admitted, voice muffled by his chest. His eyes widened at your words—wait, what? Did you— "I'm sorry I lied about it, Satoru."

You sniffled and held onto him in what seemed to be a silent way to beg for forgiveness. His eyes twinkled, and Gojo felt something akin to butterflies in his stomach. "Shhh, it's okay," he murmured, caressing your back in a comforting manner. "It's okay. I'm not angry." He buried his face into your hair, inhaling your scent. "I could never be angry at how much you've always wanted me."

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request Alucard getting overstimulated by his s/o to the point he's whimpering and teary-eyed?

His lungs burned as he tried to clutch air into them. Alternating between gasping pants and clinching his jaw so tight he thought his teeth might crack.

How long had they been doing this for? Hours? Days? Centuries? Alucard felt it difficult to keep track of time. Keep track of anything other than trying to get air in his lungs, his lover’s wonderful cruel touches, and the need to cum.

“Aww…is it getting too hard my love?” Their sweet voice called to him. A finger tipping his chin up to crane his neck off the bed, which he instantly follows. A willing puppet to their whims. “I mean, I know your cock is already too hard. So red and swollen.” He gasped when their other hand drifted over his erection. Hips lifting to get just a little more touch that he needed to cum. But he was denied. “It looks to vibrant against your beautiful, white skin.”

“….please….” Alucard can barely choke out the words. He had actually been strangled, so he could honestly say that their skillful torment had left him strangled for words.

“Ooo…you beg so beautifully too. My sweet love. The son of the all powerful vampire lord Dracula at the quaking mercy of a little human. What would your father think?”

His fangs bare in a hiss, possibly a subconscious flash at the remark or from another barely their touch on his inner thigh near his balls. “….please…”

“You’re so beautiful when you cry too.” He hadn’t even noticed he was crying until they leaned in to lick a single tear from his cheek. Frustration, pain, or just squeezing them so tightly, he wasn’t sure what caused them. He was sure that elation was the cause of them after they told him, “ok. You can cum now.” It was like a cord snapped inside him as he came ropes of cum all over himself and the bed. Not unassisted by the fact that his back bent off the bed like he was possessed.

Alucard fell back to the bed when he was finished, then fell back into himself. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” His voice was a little hoarse. Probably from earlier when he was moaning & crying out. Fighting against it before he relented and just let them do what they wanted with him. Submitted so he could have the opportunity for release.

A cool rag drifted over his chest and arms, and Alucard lulled his head over to their lap that was already near it. “You seem to be needing this more than usual.” He had no comment on their remark. Mostly because it was hard to argue when they were right. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” He repeated and they dropped it. Letting him fall asleep as they finished cleaning him up, then crawled into bed after him. Maybe it was the exhaustion, he thought as he drifted off. Why he kept asking for this. If he was too distracted by orgasm to think, then too tired to think after, then maybe that was the reason. Or maybe he was just starting to like it more.

Either way, he would keep asking as long as they would provide. They seemed to have no qualms about doing this so far. So, he was safe. For now.

[ripeandsoft]

Up Late

@megamindsecretlair told me to get in the booth so I had to oblige immediately. This is toxic baby daddy!Terry which is her character so all credit to her! I don’t write him as well as her but nevertheless I hope y’all enjoy, please let me know what you think 🩷!

—

“Mommy, will we have school tomorrow?” Your oldest baby Noah asks as he sat next to his sister Nyla, watching the blue strip of school closings roll across the bottom of the local news. You glance out the kitchen window to see a flurry of snowflakes falling to the icy ground. “Probably not baby” You answer, stirring the pot on spaghetti you were making.

Their already happy cheers only intensified when Terry strolled through the door like he owned it. “Daddy!” You daughter shot off the couch and into his outstretched arms, his fingers dancing around her tummy to tickle her. Your son followed suit and tackled his legs, wrapping his little arms around them and squeezing. You sighed as you cut the heat on the stove and turned around to watch them.

You could say many bad things about Terry but he is a great father to your babies, despite the state of your relationship.

“What your mama up in here cooking?” He asked them, carrying both of them in his arms. “‘Ghetti” Nyla responded as she pointed to the steaming pot. Terry leaned down to put them on the floor, guiding them down the hall to the bathroom so they can wash their hands to eat. You stood with your arms crossed as you watched him turn and walk to you, his lips contorted in a stupid grin.

“How can I help you Terry?” You questioned with your hand out to stop him from coming closer to you. “Don’t be like that girl, I just wanted to see my favorite people” He said, grabbing you hand to pull you into a hug. The two of you gently rocked side to side in your embrace. His hand was firm on your side so you wouldn’t bump into the hot stove. “I’m assuming you’re staying to eat” You spoke against his chest as he refused to let you go.

“You know it” He confirmed.

—

“Can you stay the night dad?” Noah asked Terry while handing him his plate to be washed. “Mhm, that snow is piling up out there” He nodded, scrubbing the dishes with hot soapy water sending a stream of bubbles down the drain. Noah ran out of the kitchen into the living room to power up his game system, under the impression that him and Terry were going to play all night long. “No sir, turn it back off” You came up behind him holding and few sheets and blankets. “You’re still going to bed on time” You reminded your son, turning around to plop the pile of fabric on the couch so you wouldn’t see him pouting.

With Terry cleaning the kitchen you had more time to get your kids wound down and in the bed, starting with bath time. “All my children please report to the bathroom” You announced, Nyla going first so she could pick out her bubbles. “Mommy I want to stay up with daddy” Your son whined, going to stand beside Terry. “Son, I want a million dollars but we can’t always have what we want” You retorted, crossing your arms as you both stared at each other. “It’s all good Noah. I’ll be here tomorrow and we can play” Terry put his hand on Noah’s back and nudged him towards you.

“Okay” He mumbled, dragging his feet to the bathroom. “You’re welcome” Terry mouthed to you making your middle finger go up in his direction.

—

Now that your babies were clean and in bed you could start relaxing. Foaming white bubble slid down your arms as you washed your face. Your eyes were closed as you scrubbed your skin, bending down to rinse with warm water. When you opened your eyes again Terry was standing behind you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you” You groaned with wide eyes, heart pounding from the scare he gave you. “I can’t watch you?” He asked coming closer to wrap his arms around your waist. “No you can’t” You rolled your eyes as you reached for your moisturizer. “I’m not sleeping on the couch. I put the sheets back in the closet for you” He said as if he did you a grand favor. “Whatever Terry” You brushed him off before turning off the light and exiting the bathroom, leaving him in the dark.

Your back sighed in relief as you layed down, your blankets wrapping you in warmth. “Leave me alone Terry” You grumbled, so close to falling asleep. He was trying to slide his hands up your shirt, body pressed against yours. “Come on girl, you know you miss me. When you letting me come back? I know you miss us all being together” He spoke in your ear, lips ghosting over you. It was the same song and dance you always went through. You groaned as you scooted away from him and his touch, hating the way you craved it.

He reached for you again only to be met with a soft pillow. His face scrunched up once he realized what you did, grabbing and tossing the pillow off the bed. “Ain’t no pillow stopping me from getting to you” Terry said, leaning up on his elbows to eye you in the dark. “Go to bed” You reached behind you to swat at him like a ringing alarm clock. You snuggled into you new position and breathed deeply, letting sleep overtake you.

—

The feeling of your nightgown being lifted and bunched around your waist sent goosebumps rippling against your skin. Without the material you were was exposed to the cool night air. Terry quickly warmed you up though, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your skin. Your lashes fluttered against your cheeks as your eyes opened.

4:03 am

“Moveee” You plucked his hand off you and felt around for the covers, wanting to fall back asleep and not in his trap. “Just let me help you. I know you stressed. I seen you walking around all tense and shit. That’s why you need me here, to help you” Terry spoke in your ear. His soft lips brushed against your lobe and you couldn’t stop the whimper from tumbling out of your sleep-swollen lips.

“I’m fine” You responded as firmly as you could, already crumbling under the pressure of his fingers on your clit.

How long has it been? Weeks? Months?

He circled the fat bundle of nerves with even pressure, the gentle squelching sound of your wetness echoing after each movement. You scooted back against him to feel his bulge between your cheeks. “Just say you need it, you know I’ll do it for you” His fingers dipped in between your folds, pushing through your stickiness to tease your throbbing hole. You clenched around nothing, almost as if you were inviting him back inside. Terry smiled at this.

“See, my pussy missed me” He punctuated his sentence by sliding one thick finger inside you. You bit your lip to muffle your sigh, walls squeezing tight around him. After a few shallow pumps he removed his finger only to put it in his mouth, your taste seeping into his tongue. He reached down to free himself from his boxers, fat tip bubbling over with precum. He jerked it a few times, going to hold your leg your leg up so he could have easier access to you.

The length of him slid in between your folds a few times, his tip nudging your clit with each upwards movement. Webs of your combined juices connected the two of you as he tapped your pussy a few times, the heavy head of his dick bouncing off your clit. This had you squealing. The pressure was just too much for you.

“It’s ok baby, just let me in” Both his words and tone were gentle as he eased himself in inch by inch, hips flush against your ass. Your hole welcomed him into your warmth, clenching and dripping. “Aww look at you. You always ready for me huh?” His pace was slow and deep, leaking tip hitting your spot with expert precision. “Yes yes yes” You moaned, pillowcase bitten in between your teeth.

“Tell me you love me” Terry instructed as his hips sped up. Your words lived and died in your throat as your body and mind drowned in pleasure. You shook you head no and Terry wasn’t pleased. Your neck was soon wrapped with his hand, arm pulling you back to look at him the best you could in the dark. “Tell me” He repeated.

This new angle had him reaching deeper than before, your hand reaching back to plant itself on his leg. He still continued despite your hand in his way, bullying himself into his your pussy. Your stomach started to flutter as your orgasm built up. Your hips began to move on their own accord, fucking back on him as you chased your high. “There she go, greedy lil pussy. I’m not fucking you good enough?” He asked. “I, ouu fuck, I love you Terry. I promise” The words tumbled out of you in a string of slurred moans, your promise tapering off into a squeal.

His hand that was on your throat snapped over your lips, the drool leaking from the corner of your mouth covering his palm. “Don’t wake up my kids” He grunted in your ear. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you came, your muffled moans vibrating his hand.

The feeling of Terry coming inside you made your head spin as your walls were painted milky white. He looked down at where you two connected, a frothy ring of cream surrounding his base glinting in the moonlight.

[starneteyam]

Hii! This is my first time doing one of these so I’m not sure how it works but I love your works! If possible can you do fic where it’s neteyam x na’vi reader who always gets into fights cause she’s really headstrong and neteyam is like either backing her up or trying to break it up because he doesn’t want her to get hurt? Maybe she thinks he sees her as weak or something I don’t know 😭.

You obviously don’t have to if you don’t want to! Thank you!!😊

-🥮

HEADSTRONG ★

🖇️ char. Neteyam x Fem! Omaticayan! Reader

🖇️ warn. None, minor violence, fluff

🎥 In which your constant fights with Ao’nung helps prove just how protective Neteyam can be

A/N Erm hey guys 😅 Long time no see! Some of these requests are super old so sorry if you’ve been waiting for a while. Sorry if it’s a little different than what you requested!

𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐘𝐀𝐌 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

ONE THING THAT Neteyam really liked about you was how much pride you had. You never let anybody talk down to you, and you weren’t afraid to speak your mind. It was one thing that reminded him of his mother and Ronal, which were clear signs of a perfect Tsahik.

And though he absolutely loved those traits, it would get you in to trouble, especially when there were people who loved to provoke you like Ao’nung. The eldest son of Tonowari was immature, you knew that. He was just some teenage boy who loved getting under your skin. You tried to ignore it, for the most part, you swear.

But when he started talking about your mate’s family, talking about Kiri or Loak, that’s when you finally bit back. They never got physical, thankfully due to Ao’nung having a little sense, or Neteyam being by your side to stop anything from happening.

But today, he took it a little too far.

It was when you were doing some of your chores, carrying fishing nets from the market back to your hut. You were walking along the sand in shallow waters, a place where Kiri liked to come to marvel at the shadow patterns in the sand. You were alone, Neteyam off doing something for his father.

“If it isn’t the princess.” You heard that obnoxious voice, your eyes instantly rolling just by the sound of him. You stopped in your tracks, head hanging low as you sighed. “What now, Ao’nung?” You groaned, turning around to face him. He stalked towards you, a usual smirk on his lips.

“Oh, come on, don’t be like that, forest girl. I’m surprised you’re not with your bodyguard.” He teased, obviously talking about Neteyam. You furrowed your brows, glaring at him. “He is not my bodyguard.” And it was true. You and Neteyam both knew you were well enough capable to protect yourself.

“It sure seems like it! You never leave your hut without him.” He laughed, his arms crossing in front of his chest. Your eyes narrowed.

Actually, this had been a thought in your mind for a while. Neteyam always stopped you during fights, and dragged you away before it could get worse. You had seem Ao’nung’s winning laughter too many times.

Neteyam did think you were capable of protecting yourself, right? A future Tsahik who can’t even protect herself was not acceptable. If you can’t protect even yourself, how would you protect your clan?

Ao’nung smirked, hands in the air as if saying ‘See?’ “So I am right. You are too weak. Maybe even weaker than Lo’ak.” He scoffed. You couldn’t help but bare your teeth at him. He knew you hated it when he brought them up. “Do not speak of Lo’ak. He is not weak, and neither am I.” You started, chest high in pride as you stepped into his personal space, shoving a finger into his chest.

“What you are is a disappointment, not only to your father, but to your people. You are so cruel, Ao’nung.” You said through gritted teeth, canines apparent. His smile dropped, a glare forming. “You are childish, and immature. That is why Neteyam has a mate and you do not.” He stumbled backwards when you pushed your fingers against his chest, resulting in his snarling at you.

“What is going on?” You heard the voice that had practically been engraved into your brain, turning over your shoulder to see Neteyam, who already had a nasty look on Ao’nung.

Ao’nung scoffed. “There’s the bodyguard. It seems you really are weak, princess.” He huffed, looking back to you. “Do not call her that.” Neteyam stepped forward to say something more, but you stopped him. “I can protect myself.” You said, the sentence more directed to your mate.

Ao’nung laughed. “Protect yourself? Like you protected your people? Maybe that is why your home tree is gone and your people are dying.” Something snapped inside of you, and you stepped forward to do something, anything, but was apparently beat to it. You were gently pushed to the side, Neteyam’s fist connecting with Ao’nung’s jaw. “Neteyam!” You had gasped, eyes wide in shock.

The punch was so hard that the boy fell to the ground, body slamming into the sand and water. He scrambled to get up, stepping forward to hit Neteyam back, but you quickly shielded him. Ao’nung stared at your with eyes of fury, and you mirrored his expression. He was breathing heavily, shocked from the hit.

“What, are you going to hit a woman?” You spat, holding Neteyam behind you. Everyone stood still for a heartbeat, Ao’nung’s hands opening and closing as if wanting to do something to regain his pride, but having no choice. He huffed, before turning on his heel and stomping away.

You didn’t move, keeping your eyes on his back until he was finally out of sight. You finally relaxed, but your anger was still there. You turned around, giving a knowing look to Neteyam. His ears flickered. “What?”

You closed your eyes, sighing. “I can protect myself, ma Neteyam.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “I know.” He said lightly, as he always did. You nibbled on your bottom lip, looking away. Did he, though?

As your mate, he noticed these subtle expressions immediately. That was one of the things you loved about him. He understood you with you having to say it, and he knew exactly what to say for you. He gently took your hands in his, rubbing the back of your hands with his thumbs.

“Trust me, I know. That is one of the reasons I chose you as my mate. You are strong, ma (name).” He gripped your hands firmly, reassuring you. Seeing as you weren’t 100 percent convinced, he let out a small huff through his nose. He leaned down, pressed a tender kiss to your cheek.

“I stop you because that is my role as your mate. I have to protect you, and I cannot stand seeing you get hurt in any way. It is me being selfish.” The last sentence forced a small laugh out of you, feeling the tiniest bit more confident. You had never thought about it that way.

“I see you.” He said, gripping your hands tightly. You smiled softly. Yes, this was the man you chose. “I see you too.”

[violetlichen]

nobody puts my bald baby in a corner

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen / Named Atreides wife A little nsfw but that's not the point. Domestic family life. They have five kids and Feyd desperately wants another. Wifey won't oblige. Don't pay attention to the other characters and Houses I included, I don't know anything about Dune and I just pulled from the fandom wiki or made them up. Their son is not the Kwisatz Haderach either!

****if you're somebody who works at tumblr hq reading this because i accidentally reported my own fic im really sorry****

It has been five years since Feyd-Rautha last saw his wife swell with his child.

It is entirely by her design, and certainly not for lack of trying. He ravages her senseless almost every night, but after five children, the ever infuriating Diana Atreides refuses to give him another. As a Bene Gesserit, it is within her power to do so; the witches are able to bend their own reproduction to their will, and Feyd-Rautha believes she likes his methods of convincing her too much to give him what he wants.

Tonight, he almost has her hooked. He kisses her knee and up her bare thigh, licking and sucking the plush skin there. She barely acknowledges him and lets him fondle her as he pleases, lost in her own thoughts. 

“She’s too old for him. He’s just a boy.”

They are currently hosting several of the Great Houses. Earlier at dinner, he and Diana were approached by the Duke of Ginaz, who suggested they betroth his daughter to their oldest son, Aleksei. Diana had hidden her frown behind her glass of wine, but Feyd-Rautha had seen it and filed it away for later, thanking the Duke for his time.

He hums against her thigh, tongueing over the faint bruise he made. He can use this.

“He will be a man soon,” he reminds her. He pulls her leg over his shoulder as he shifts up the bed, now eye level with her weeping cunt. His mouth waters. “Even if we refuse this proposal, there will be others.”

He knows his wife wants to say more, but the words die in her throat when he shoves his nose against her, inhaling her scent and releasing a shaky breath. He pretends it is for her benefit, but really, this is all for him. With his fingers pulling apart the seam of her, his tongue lolls out, and Feyd-Rautha feasts. 

When he has had his fill of her pleasure, he crawls up the length of her body. She pants underneath him, back arching and eyes squeezing shut like a satisfied cat, her neck exposed and vulnerable. He licks off the sweat there.

“It will not stop with Aleksei,” he says, leaning over her.

Diana scowls. She shoves him, but he does not yield. He grasps her hand, pulling it away from his chest and up to his mouth, where he kisses her fingers.

He knows he is being cruel, rubbing salt in her wound. Her children are growing. At twelve years old, Aleksei is admittedly still too young to seriously consider for marriage, but the coming years will go by in a blink. First it will be Aleksei, then Nikita shortly after, and then Maxim – although their youngest and most unstable son will be difficult to pawn off, Feyd-Rautha thinks. 

His girls are another story. Sasha and Grisha were both gifted their mother’s beauty, but it is Grisha, their youngest, who takes after Feyd-Rautha the most. She is the only one of his children who did not inherit those dark Atreides curls. She is perfect; wholly Harkonnen, like her father. He knows he will feel how Diana does now when it is time for Grisha to leave his side.

It is why he fucks into his wife now, flexing his hips slowly and purposefully, so she feels every inch of his longing. He staves off the urge to empty himself inside of her prematurely, already aching to see her breasts swollen and leaking. 

He stops, trying to catch his breath. He pulls back from Diana to thumb over her pearl, grinding his length into her. “Shall I leave you like this, wife?” he asks her.

“Don’t you dare,” she snaps, her hips chasing his fingers.

“I can give you what you want,” he taunts. “I will pump you full of my children happily. What is one more?”

Diana does not answer, but he sees her breaking, just as he is. He holds her legs open, jutting into the apex of them, growling as he stares her down, willing her to change her mind. She hides her fears behind her pleasure, hides the tear sliding down her cheek by turning her face into the pillow, taking what he gives her.

What is one more child? Certainly not the solution to her problem. It is only a delay of the inevitable, that one day they will all grow up and no longer need her. Feyd-Rautha knows this. But he hopes to delay his wife’s suffering, just as he will delay her gratification if she does not give him what he wants.

When he pumps his load into her, he knows she is not satisfied. He breathes through his own satisfaction, nose flaring like a bull, but she does not complain like he expected her to. She does not roll him over to claim him, or bring her fingers to her cunt to finish what he started, his eyes on her hole, full of his spend.

Instead she buries her face in her hands. Feyd-Rautha leans his weight onto her and pulls her hands away, revealing her face to him. She blinks at him, her lashes wet and clumping together.

He knows what she is feeling. “I feel it, too,” he says. “Let me give you another, my darling.”

Diana nods and looks away, breathing out a held breath. “Alright,” she says. Her eyes soften fondly when they focus on him again. “Alright.”

They lay together for a while, enjoying each other’s company. Feyd-Rautha does not know if tonight will be the night, but he hopes. He hopes she sees it the way he does -- a continuation of their happiness, not the eventual ending of it. He kisses every part of Diana he can reach, and she cuddles into him, their limbs a tangled mess. 

A little later into the night, a knock on the door breaks their comfortable silence. Feyd-Rautha grunts, already irritated, and removes himself from her, slipping on a robe and his pants.

When he opens the door, he finds a wide-eyed servant. “It is the children, Baron Harkonnen.”

Feyd-Rautha frowns and widens the door, panic souring him. “Where are they?”

“They are safe, Baron Harkonnen, but there has been a bit of trouble.”

Diana appears behind him, wrapping her robe around her waist. "What sort of trouble?" she asks, brow furrowed.

“It will be best if you follow me to the drawing room within the guest wing, Baroness.”

Diana whips past Feyd-Rautha and the servant, not waiting for either of them to lead her to the guest wing. Feyd-Rautha follows after her, and he knows to expect his boys. It is not the first time he was awoken by something they have done when they should have been sleeping, but it does concern him that they were found in the guest wing.

Although he is the youngest son, Maxim is the instigator of all things. Not as bright as the others, he is aggressive and impulsive, often letting his hands speak for him. He acts before he thinks, and it frustrates Diana greatly. Many nights Feyd-Rautha has been brought before Maxim in the kitchens, where he sticks his grubby hands into pies and picks at berries meant for the morning’s breakfast. The guards know not to let him out of his room at night without their explicit permission.

But as explosive as Maxim is, it is Aleksei who reminds Feyd-Rautha the most of his own brother, Beast Rabban. His oldest son is proud and quick to anger, easily riled by Maxim and his sisters who poke and prod at him in the ways only younger siblings can. Feyd-Rautha does his best to temper Aleksei, to show him the value in patience, in choosing his battles.

Nikita, self-sufficient boy that he is, waits until the battles are over and won to pick at what remains. He watches. Feyd-Rautha suspects Diana favors him over the others, though she will never admit it. 

All of them dote on their sisters. Sasha has them carry her around on their backs, even when they are tired and sore and agitated from their training. They still treat Grisha like she is their baby, although she is almost six years old now and loathes the comparison. 

Each of them, in their own ways, bring honor to their House. It is not something he had ever imagined for himself when thinking about his future. Feyd-Rautha is proud of his children, and he would not be disinclined to have another.

The chaos they find upon entering the drawing room is enough for him to change his mind.

The lord and lady from Zanbar, whose names Feyd-Rautha has forgotten, fawn over their young daughter, who sits upon an ottoman in front of the fireplace, her face red and streaked with tears. She cries as she pulls at what remains of her blonde hair. It has been crudely chopped off, the ends blunt and jagged like it had been sawed with a knife.

Their boys stand sullenly in front of the governess, disheveled in her bathrobe and still flustered from being awoken in the middle of the night to collect them. Aleksei folds his arms over his chest, his head full of curly dark hair held high. Next to him, Nikita remains calm in the face of their impending scolding. He very likely had done nothing wrong but bear witness to the antics of his rowdy brothers. Meanwhile, Maxim openly glares at the small weeping girl. She deserved what she got, and he is waiting for a reason to give her more to cry over.

“What happened?” Diana asks, dismayed.

“Your sons snuck into my daughter’s bedchamber and cut her hair off while she slept!” the lord’s wife snaps, borderline hysterical. “Where were her guards? How was this allowed to happen?”

She is reaching an unnatural decibel, but withers under the glare Feyd-Rautha shoots her. They were pulled from their bed for this? His darkening expression does not fully quell the lady's anger, and she gawks at her husband, willing him to say something.

"I'm sure there's an explanation," the lord offers unhelpfully, averting his timid gaze.

Diana stills, taking in the sight of the poor girl’s hacked hair. With a deep inhale, she turns to the boys, her hand finding her hip. “Explain yourselves.”

“She was mocking Grisha, mother,” Maxim says, scowling. “We heard her at dinner.”

Aleksei nods, more self-righteous and refined in his anger. “She laughed at Grisha and made her cry because she doesn’t have hair.” He sneers when the lord’s daughter wails a little louder at this, because she, too, does not have hair now. “She called her ugly.”

Diana looks heartbroken over this, but her Bene Gesserit training helps to quickly neutralize her face. She looks to Nikita. “And you? What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I told them not to.”

Feyd-Rautha believes him. Nikita is no less ruthless, but he is also a diplomat by nature, preferring more uninvolved methods of justice or revenge. This boldness is certainly the work of his brothers.

Feyd-Rautha cannot wait to reward them handsomely for it.

Diana believes Nikita as well, for she turns back to the other two. “Apologize to Lady Rosalind.”

“But mother, she–”

“Enough,” Feyd-Rautha rasps, growing tired of the spectacle. “Do as your mother says, so we may all retire to our beds.” He shoots another glare at the lord and lady, who bluster under his attention, too afraid of him to protest again.

Aleksei and Maxim step forward and bow to the young girl. “We’re sorry,” they echo, not meaning it at all.

Knowing that is the best she will get from them, Diana exhales deeply and dismisses them back to their rooms, escorted by their governess to make sure they get there and do not take any more detours. Nikita follows, ever their solemn shadow. 

Diana kneels down beside Lady Rosalind. “Don’t fret. Hair grows back,” she soothes. The girl hiccups, and Diana gently brushes the hair out of her eyes before standing up to face her parents again. “I apologize on behalf of my sons. As you can see, they love their sister very much and do not take kindly to those who upset her.”

The lord and lady of Zanbar try to hide their grimaces. They know their indignancy is unfounded now that they know their daughter had started this. “Baroness, I must apologize–” the lord starts.

“That won’t be necessary,” Diana interrupts, putting a graceful hand up to stop him. “Let’s put this unpleasantness behind us. My husband and I will question our guards to understand how this was allowed to happen. Those responsible will be thoroughly punished.” She looks at Feyd-Rautha. “That includes our sons.”

This seems to satisfy the lord and lady enough to gather up their snot nosed daughter and leave, perhaps vowing to never step foot on Giedi Prime again. Feyd-Rautha will not miss them.

He and Diana walk back to their bedchamber in an agitated silence, until she breaks it.

“Still want another?” she asks him, deadpan.

“Not particularly. Would you still like me to thoroughly punish them?”

“Not particularly.”

Feyd-Rautha hums, and he reaches for her hand. 

The next morning, Feyd-Rautha walks over to Grisha where she sits on the wide stone fence, her little legs dangling over the side. The boys train in the yard, and she watches with her dolls, acting out the sparring techniques she sees with them. He kisses her head, smooth like his. She ignores him, too caught up in supervising the training of her dolls.

Feyd-Rautha smiles. “Who is winning?” he asks.

One of the dolls headbutts the other. Their yarn-like hair swings around violently. It is hard to tell under the light of the black sun, but he thinks one of them is blonde. That one plops to the ground, landing in the sand.

Grisha raises the hand of the victorious doll the way she sees her father raise his in the arena. “This one,” she tells him.

“Well fought,” Feyd-Rautha says proudly. He bends down to pick up the doll and hands it to her. He watches her run her fingers through the doll’s hair, brushing the sand out of it with great care.

One day, his daughter will train alongside her brothers. She will have no need for hair then. It would just get in her way, and make her easier to grab by her opponents. She will see the use in this, and appreciate what makes her Harkonnen.

For now, Feyd-Rautha cups her head and kisses her again. He calls her his beautiful girl, and returns to the yard, picking up where he and the boys left off.

[warping-realities]

Parental Pressure 

Eddie watched the personal trainer's video for the thousandth time as he was getting closer to the little gym for his first class. He had snuck out of his house super early and quietly because he knew Nick, his old man, wouldn’t approve of his son wasting time on this kinda stuff. He became a single father really young, back in high school, and now, at 35, he did everything he could to make sure his kid didn’t follow the same path. Becoming a doctor was Nicholas Rousseau’s biggest dream, but early fatherhood messed up his chance to hit the books at college. Not that he blamed Eddie for it; on the contrary, they usually had a solid relationship, except when Eddie strayed from the plans his dad laid out for his future. If Nick couldn’t get into med school, Eddie sure as hell would, whether he liked it or not. And now, with less than a month before college kicked off, Eddie was having doubts about the path laid out for him. So, in a rebellious move, after getting an invite to check out Rocco “Rocky” Mancini's gym, an Italian bodybuilder who moved to the States, now retired and not exactly a big name in the game, who a few years back started hustling as a personal trainer and, according to the promo video on Eddie's Instagram, was looking for young men to boost his portfolio. It looked like that gig wasn’t going great either. The first person to sign up would get a month of free daily training. Perfect for Eddie; after all, a month of training with an expert before college would make things way easier when he had to hit the gym away from his overprotective dad’s watchful eye. Surprisingly he was the first one to sign up! And so, the young  skinny man, with light brown hair found himself stepping into the dimly lit gym at 6 AM.

As he stood frozen at the door, anxiety washing over him, a monstrous figure approached, strutting with swagger, muscles bulging looking like they might burst from the thin layer of skin wrapping them. With a fuller beard and looking at least five years older than in the video Eddie had seen over and over, the guy oozed confidence and a certain arrogance. But those weren’t the only things he was giving off, as it became clear to Eddie when the dude came up to him with a sweaty hand extended to shake, a distinct animal musk dominating his senses.

“You must be Eddie! Nice to meet ya, kid; I’m Rocco, but you can call me Rocky—everyone does. Welcome to my little temple. So, you ever trained before?”

“Ahn, no... I wanted to, but my dad... no, I’ve never trained.”

“Feeling a little bit of Daddy Issues here? Just kidding, son! Where’s your workout gear?”

“I thought, since it’s the first day... I... didn’t bring any...”

“Damn, son, you weren’t kidding when you said you’ve never trained; you don’t have a clue! But don’t sweat it, we’ll fix that! You can wear the shirt; I’ll get you some shorts.”

“I... don’t wanna be a bother.”

“Son, you came here to train, and train is what you’re gonna do. I don’t know what your pops taught you but it looks like you got a lot to learn from me. First thing, you gotta be more assertive—don’t be scared to say what you think or do what you like.”

Hearing that, Eddie felt something shift inside him; the fear and anxiety that had been eating at him for weeks seemed to fade away. He wanted to be there, and nobody was gonna take that away from him, not even his old man.

After hitting the locker room and putting on the shorts Rocco lent him, which were way too big in the legs but surprisingly just right in the waist, Eddie went back to the main room where the personal trainer was waiting for him.

“We gotta fill those shorts, son!”

“That’s why I’m here, Mr. Mancini.”

“Hell yeah! That’s the spirit but none of this Mr. Mancini nonsense; you either call me Rocky or coach.”

“Yes, sir, coach!”

“That’s right! Now, back to our chat, you said you’ve been training for a while, but how long is a while, son?”

That info was totally wrong; he’d never trained, right? But why did he have fuzzy memories of sneaking out to hit the school gym before class during his senior year? If he hadn’t trained, where did those small but tight muscles come from?

“I’ve been training for almost a year, coach, but I don’t think I’ve seen much result.”

“Two more things to teach you, son: first, we’re never happy with the size we are, and second, even so, you’re never gonna downplay your achievements; you’ve done something that most people can’t even pull off. Be proud of that.”

“I... I’m proud, yeah!” he replied, realizing the coach was speaking the truth. He had a lot of pride in what he accomplished, even though he knew he was still far from where he wanted to be.

“Awesome! Now you’re talking like a real champ. But enough chit-chat, let’s see what you’re made of.” Rocco said before putting Eddie through the most grueling workout he’d ever experienced. His self-taught training hadn’t prepared him for this level of exhaustion. After half an hour of intense agony, they took a break, and Eddie tried to recover before what he knew would be another half hour of torture as Rocco praised him.

“Damn, son, all that fuss you had with your pops to come train with me in your junior year was worth it. You’re huge; another minute and that shirt ain’t gonna hold!”

Still exhausted from the workout, Eddie took a moment to wrap his head around what the trainer had said. A fight with his dad...? And training here for at least three years...? No... it didn’t make sense... but then he saw his own reflection in the gym mirror, and he was... fucking swole! And that... that wasn’t just possible; it was thanks to the time he’d spent caring for his body all this while, even with his dad breathing down his neck.

“Thanks, Coach, but I’m still not anywhere near where I wanna be!”

“Well, if you get closer, this shirt definitely isn’t gonna hold. I’ll grab you one of mine, or you can train shirtless until the other clients show up, son. In the meantime, figure out how to get that thing off, but I doubt it’s coming off without tearing. Maybe you should film a video for your social media; I bet your followers will go wild!”

“Haha, I don’t think that they will care, and I feel kinda uncomfortable putting myself out there. So I’ll take the shirt.” Eddie replied as the coach returned with an enormous shirt in hand and offered it to him.

“Son, there’s no reason to be shy about showing off; you sculpted that body for a reason. Don’t tell me that’s another one of your dad’s ideas? You never cared much about what he thinks, and I’ve known you since you were a little brat, fourteen years old, showing up on opening day to get an autograph!”

Once again, Eddie felt something shift inside him; the cordial relationship he had with his overly protective dad was turning into a conflictual one, with both of them constantly arguing about the expectations they had for Eddie’s future, which drove him to practically live at Rocco’s gym, where he helped with maintenance or took care of the place to keep training without having to pay.

“You’re right, as always, Rocky; it’s just that, I dunno... I think this crowd that needs to post everything they do is kinda empty and vain.”

“Son if you don’t show off your gains, you won’t grow your followers, and so what if it seems kinda empty? What matters is being seen. And nobody builds a body like yours without a bit of vanity. I’ll let you keep training; I’ve got a client in twenty minutes. If you need me for anything, just holler.”

“Rocky, I can train better than a lot of pro bodybuilders, man! You know that!”

“Son there’s a fine line between confidence and arrogance! You can strut around all you want with your followers, but don’t come at me with that!” Rocky shot back, though he couldn’t hide a smile of approval.

As the trainer moved away to organize things for his client, Eddie focused on finishing his remaining exercises. Kicking off his sneakers and heading to the squat rack barefoot, he stacked plate after plate until he formed a sizable pile that would surprise anyone. But the truth was, despite the insane weight, it was relatively easy for Eddie. Next, he hit the leg press and finished with deadlifts using a bar that weighed more than a baby rhino. When he sat down to do his last exercise of the day, calves, a distinct funk emanated from his armpits, but mainly from his giant size 14 bare feet. Looking at himself and feeling pumped, he couldn’t resist pulling out his phone to shoot a TikTok video. He was in the middle of recording when Rocky interrupted him.

“Damn, kid, you reek! No offense, we all have a little man funk; I know how it is, but clients are gonna start showing up, so take a shower and let’s get to work.”

“Damn, coach, sometimes you’re worse than my dad.” The kid replied, stopping the recording.

“I am your father, boy!” The older man shot back with a sinister grin and a predatory look at the younger man before continuing. “And if you really wanna please your fans, be a show-off; don’t hide your assets, son; show off that chest and those abs, but hurry up, ‘cause this place is gonna be packed soon. We’re not the biggest gym in town by luck, Wardo. This young stud pose might please your fans, but the morning ladies prefer when you play the part of the innocent bambino.”

This time, the wave of strangeness hit Eddie so hard that he felt dizzy and nauseous, exacerbated by the potent funk he was putting off. And for the first time since he stepped foot in that gym, he fully realized what was going down as he automatically took off his shirt and walked toward one of the gym mirrors, a gym which seemed to expand with every step he took, turning from a small studio into a gigantic complex. As his skin took on an olive tone and his dark brown hair curled into perfect black curls, while his nose turned aquiline like a Roman emperor from antiquity, Eddie struggled within his own mind while Edoardo Mancini took control. If someone could hear the debate between the two, it would sound something like:

“Dude, I am... no, we are what you’ve always wanted to be! Pops gave you this chance; why not embrace it?”

“’Cause I... I’m going to med school...”

“You never wanted that; we never wanted that; that was Nicholas’s thing, not ours. This is our chance to be whoever we wanna be!”

“No... we are what Rocco made us; we’re just trading one controlling dad for another!”

“Not even close, dude! We chose this path; he didn’t pressure us! We followed him out of admiration, and that boosted both his success and ours; we’re legends in the fitness world!”

“Rocco was a mediocre pro... he’s using us for leverage!”

“And what’s wrong with that? We’re getting something out of it too! And how is that different from Nicholas pressuring you?”

“I... I... don’t know...”

“Dude, if you didn’t want this, I wouldn’t be here. Chill and enjoy; besides, Pops already got what he wanted from us. He’s not gonna pressure us to follow in his footsteps. We can be whatever we want: bodybuilders like him, or fitness models, or even kickstart an acting career; and I’m not even talking about porn, even though this big guy between our legs would be a hit. Just accept it.” Wardo said, stroking the giant cock in his mind and in real life.

“I... I... damn... this feels so... fucking... good!”

“Wardo! Wrap it up, kid, and stop playing with that thing; we got a new client coming.” Rocco scolded his son.

“Damn, Pops, another ruined video!”

“You weren’t gonna post that, kid; you wanna get banned from social media?”

“I was just messing around...”

“Kid... you’ve got five minutes to take a shower and get your ass to the front desk.”

“Okay, Dad! Did you hear that, folks? The great Rocco Mancini has spoken, and the good son obeys! I’ll be back with updates soon.” The young man said before stopping the recording.

“I’ll edit it so nothing racy gets out; don’t worry, Dad!”

“Five minutes and counting!” Rocco replied with fake irritation, but in reality, he was puffed up with pride for his son as he headed for the reception, spotting a man in his mid-thirties, wearing glasses and an outfit that screamed he’d never set foot in a gym in his life.

“Good morning, sir; welcome to Rocky's Gym; I’m Rocky Mancini, the owner and head coach. Are you looking for something?”

“Good morning, I’m Nick Rousseau, and I’m actually looking for my son; his phone tracker showed he was here just a few minutes ago before it suddenly stopped working.”

“Tracker? Isn’t that a bit much? Anyway, how old is he and what’s he like? We haven’t had anyone too young around here today, except for my own kid, but if I can help you out…”

“I... I don’t know...”

“You don’t know? What kinda dad doesn’t know how to describe his own kid?”

“I... I...” Nicholas replied, his voice filled with genuine desperation, which made Rocco feel a bit of sympathy, but not enough to stop him from making the next call.

“Hey, Wardo... Wardo!!! Damn kid never listens! Edoardo Mancini!!!!” Rocky yelled while watching Nicholas slightly tremble at the sound of that name.

“What’s up, Pops? I’ll get ready in a sec.” The handsome young man replied as he prepared to flex the powerful muscles that no kid his age could get without maximum dedication, watched by his dad and the other boy.

“Not that, you insubordinate ragazzo! This guy’s looking for his son; has anyone younger shown up today?”

“Nope!” He replied, giving Nicholas a quick glance over the shades he was wearing just for style before turning around and finally heading to the locker room.

“Sorry about that, teenage boys; you know how they are.” Rocco said, smiling at the other man.

“I... know?”

“Didn’t you come looking for your son?”

“Son?? Son... no... I don’t have kids... do I?” Nicholas replied, looking both confused and desperate.

“Are you feeling alright? I’m no doc, but I can try to help.”

“Doc... doctor? No... no need... I’m a doctor.” Nicholas replied with more confidence.

“Seriously? That’s awesome! Doctors are always good clients; they know how to take care of themselves.”

“Client?”

“You didn’t come here to train? We’re in a gym, after all.”

“Of course... I came... to train. You come highly recommended.”

“Modesty aside, it’s because I’m the best. I normally don’t take new clients, but we could use a doctor to evaluate our clients, so we could do a trade; you wouldn’t happen to be a sports doc, would you?”

“No, I…”

“Awesome! Just what I needed! But I can tell you’re already in shape!” Rocco said, grinning. “Let me show you the gym. Normally, this would be Wardo’s job, but the kid’s been so focused on his influencer career that he’s slacking here... between us, I’d rather he be a bodybuilder like me, but I think a dad should respect his kid’s wishes; don’t you think?” Rocco asked, and without waiting for a reply, he continued. “Don’t you wanna have kids? Are you single or married? Dude, if you’re single, I gotta introduce you to my sister; no disrespect to her, ‘cause my mama raised me right, but between us, she’s a total smoke show...” And so he went on while Nicholas followed, not realizing that with every word spoken, his reality was adjusting to the other man’s desires.

Minutes later, Rocco stepped into the locker room bathroom and watched his son recording another video, already showered but still unable to shake off the musk that surrounded him, maybe because he was still wearing the same shorts from his workout. He admired his boy, feeling proud knowing all this was his hard work paying off.

When the young man finished recording, he turned to him.

“Wardo, finish getting dressed and come out here for a minute; I got a surprise for you.”

….

“Hey guys, Wardo Mancini here, and I’ve got some awesome news! You’re probably tired of seeing my pops in my videos, but today, besides him, I wanna introduce you to someone else.” He said, repositioning the camera in the packed gym.

“This handsome fella next to my dad is my doctor, Nic Russo, and on top of that, he’s my uncle, married to my dad’s sister. And now for the biggest news: he’s about to be a dad, and he asked me to be the godfather of his boy! Just think about the genetics of that kid with a dad like this and an uncle like my pops. My uncle says the kid can be whatever he wants, but we all know the iron bug is in our blood, and as far as his godfather is concerned, Rocky Russo is gonna be a champion bodybuilder!”

[mistymisfit]

Hounds of love

Summary: Jason wakes up from a bad dream, lucky for him he's got you to make him feel better. Based on the song Hounds of love by Kate Bush (and that post I made in april)

warnings: hurt/comfort, established relationship ,I think it's gender neutral but lmk if I missed anything.

wc: 1,5k

a/n: sorry for the --summarized-- psychoanalysis class lol (this has been in my drafts since april idk why I didn't post sooner)

Jason had always yearned for love, any type of love he could get. Ever since he was a child, afraid and hiding in the dark cold streets of Gotham, he's always wanted to be loved- to be so full of love he wouldn't be able to take it anymore. But he's always been a coward, every time someone would get close enough he'd start fighting it, self-sabotaging as if he subconsciously knew he did not deserve it. His own father, his mom, his stepmother, Bruce, he'd been let down time and time again by the adults in his life supposed to protect him. If they couldn't give him what he wanted, love him, who could?

The dread, or rather the certainty he had over being unlovable shadowed over him, as much as he tried to push it down and pretend he didn't need it. His own biological parents left him, they never wanted him. The very people who were supposed to love him, he was their son. They brought him into this world, it was their responsibility. Then he'd say he didn't even like Bruce to begin with, who cares if he chose to adopt him? Who cared if he looked up to him so dearly once as a child? He had died under his care, Jason had almost everything he wanted and went ahead and ruined it-- all because he was too afraid to accept it, because he was too stubborn. You just had to go after him on your own, he'd blame himself.

Now he keeps having this recurring dream; he's being chased by something in some woods, and he keeps running. He wants to ask for help, he really does but his mouth won't open. Then he gets to a lake, takes his shoes off, throws them in the lake and takes two steps on the water. Some days that does it, he feels like the thing is no longer chasing him. But most days he wakes up before he can feel he's lost the thing chasing him.

Tonight he's holding a wounded fox in his hands, attacked by bigger animals, in the midst of escaping. The poor thing looks at him with kind, almost human, eyes. He feels its little heart pounding fast on its chest, the little animal feels familiar. He knows this fox from somewhere else. How else would it let him hold it? Why else would he stop running, too guilty to leave it alone? He feels ashamed of running away, but he has to. He's too scared to be there, he doesn't know what makes him so afraid to leave the poor animal on its own. None of this was real, there was nothing following him, he's never seen what's after him. So why couldn't he stay with the fox?

This night he wakes up sweating, agitated and with his heart kicking his ribs. He immediately kicks off the covers, and takes off his shirt when he feels the cotton starts to itch and stick to his skin. He knows he should try to calm himself down before he wakes you up, you had to be up in a few hours.

"Jay?" You slur, barely a whisper.

"Sorry my love," He apologizes, looking back to you rubbing your eyes "I'll go sleep on the couch"

"mmm, stay" you hum, still groggy with sleep but a hand of yours reaches out for him "bed's too cold"

He takes your hand in his before cuddling back next to you under the covers, limbs getting tangled together once again. And before he knows it he's got his head on your chest as you wrap your legs around him to keep him close.

"Where'd your shirt go?" You mumble, hands softly going across the expanse of his back.

"You complaining?" He teases to distract you and it works because you shake your head no with blushed cheeks. His hands sneaked under your clothes to hold you in a way that was almost a tradition now. He'd reach for your skin just to feel you there, to make sure you're safe and next to him and you weren't some hallucination he'd made up in his loneliness. If Jason had to he'd die and come again, crawling out of his coffin if it only meant he'd get to hold you like this one more time.

"Do you want to talk about it?" You ask

"About what?" He hums, too comfortable in your embrace to even be bothered with remembering what he was so stressed about.

"Why you are awake" There's a beat of silence after the sentence has come out of your mouth. The only thing that can be heard is the city's never-sleeping traffic in the distance. He doesn't want to burden you with something as measly as a dream, so what if it made him wake up in a sweat? It made no sense so he had no reason to be upset.

"Had a bad dream, wasn't really a nightmare..." He confesses after the silence." 's stupid go back to sleep"

"It's not stupid, tell me about it"

"Baby" He sighs, hoping he sounds pissed off enough for you to drop the subject.

"What? A dream can be your subconscious trying to get something you can't when you're awake"

"Mine must hate me"

"It doesn't, but it may want something youre not aware of"

"Since when do you know so much about dreams? Nerd" He teases, nuzzling his head to you. Realizing you're just as stubborn as him, he accepts defeat and tells you about his dream, "There's a thing chasing me and I'm running through some woods"

"What's the thing?" You ask

"I don't know" He scoffs, quick to dismiss it.

"Just think about it," You hike your leg higher up his waist and squeeze him closer to you if it was possible. "how did it feel?"

Tangling himself with you to the point where he can't tell where you end is where he feels like he can be vulnerable. Only when it feels like he might just become one with you he can let his guard completely down. So he sighs and takes a moment to do what you ask. He knows damn well what is after him, he's always known.

"Me, I think," He hides his face even further into your chest."my feelings"

You only hum in response, so he asks "Is it hard to love me?"

Now you understand where the dream came from. The moment he connected the thing chasing him with its meaning awoke an insecurity, something he was trying to keep buried down. So you waste no time in your reply.

"Loving someone has never come easier to me"

He finally lifts his head up, big blue eyes swelling up with tears. He looked so helpless but at the same time so full of devotion for you. He's loved, you love him, so it must mean that he can be. If he's deserving of your love, your selfless and pure love, then he's not unlovable. He kisses your jaw, and then your neck hearing a soft sigh of his name coming out of your lips. Knowing he's handed you his own heart in a silver platter, that he is yours to do as you please, Jason can rest at ease that you'd never harm him.

"Why do you ask?" You don't let yourself get distracted by his kisses.

"It's just that-" He sighs, maybe he can be vulnerable one more time with you. So he fights against the need to push you away and tries to find the right words "Don't think anyone's ever felt that with me, ever"

"Jay, your father became a henchman to provide for you," you point out, holding his face with both of your hands "Catherine raised you like her own, and believe it or not Bruce loves you, even if he's too emotionally constipated to show it"

He scoffs at that last part, blinking away the tears brimming his eyes, which, in your opinion, made them look shiny like a tainted glass panel in a church.

"Your older brother, loves you too, he calls me to see how you're doing every other week 'cause you won't answer him" You continue, "So does Alfred"

"Let's go back to sleep, okay?" He stops you; the sudden reality check is much more than what he could process at the moment. He's been so deep into his own thoughts, what he believed to be truth, that he didn't even bother to see it from a different perspective.

"You didn't even tell me what happened in your dream" You insist with a pout.

"I'll tell you tomorrow, I'm sorry I kept you up"

"I'm not" You smile, giving him a quick peck on the lips. A hand cups your cheek, making the kiss longer. You know that if he was on a better mood he would've said something along the lines of it not being a proper kiss. You giggle against his lips, and Jason just wonders how was he ever able to function without you.

[i-cant-sing]

I can’t get this scenario out of my head with yan!batfamily in which Bruce worms his way into a depressed reader’s life by marrying their mother and slowly taking over the role of parenting reader while dealing with the depression.

No because Bruce would do that. In his head, its just another mission to "save Y/n" and sure, your mother isn't exactly his type, and your depression isn't exactly her fault- the poor woman just works day and night for you both to survive in this outrageous economy, she doesn't have had enough time to see you not doing so well mentally.

Bruce and his sons, by whatever sequence of events, are now infatuated with you. What started as concern for your well being has now turned into obsessive need to control your life to make it better. So, yeah... Bruce decides to marry your mom, who is more than happy to finally find a chivalrous, handsome man... who just happens to also be very rich.

Meanwhile, you hate him. It's stupid, but you hate how filthy rich he is and even though you know that he donates a lot to charities, you still hate him because Bruce thinks money can solve everything (and in your case, it almost can), but you can't help but feel insulted everytime he offers you a cheque, a wad of cash to pay off your bills and loans, or even a $20 bill to get yourself some snacks. It feels... abnormal. You're not a charity case.

Perhaps your socioeconomic status isn't the only reason you're depressed. Maybe it's just you missing your father (could be dead/murdered/suicide/just moved far far away).

The moment Bruce finds out that your dad is the reason why you're so depressed, oh it's "I WILL FATHER ANOTHER CHILD IN NEED OF PROFESSIONAL HELP" time. He's doubling down on his paternal instincts and he's just mentally smacking himself like "ofc you need a father figure in your life. Who better than me????"

And it just makes your skin crawl at how nonchalant Bruce is about all this- about incorporating himself into your and your mother's life. Treating you both, especially you like you're actually related. Like he's been around with you two his entire life. You lose your appetite when he stays for dinner, but you sit at the table for your mother. You try to make excuses when your mother tells you that you have to go with her at the Wayne Manor because "Bruce wants to spend a day with family". You can't help but look at your mother in wonder at how she is comfortable when you both pull up at the manor. You thought things would be easier if Bruce's sons were also uncomfortable or even hated you and your mother (or thought that your mom was a gold digger), but no, they're just as worse as Bruce. Dick being particularly the worst in the sense that he's more affectionate and his love language is physical touch, so you get squished to his chest everytime he sees you, with a small cry "my baby!" Sometimes, "sis" would be added.

You didn't like either nickname.

Then there's Jason, who is the most normal one of them all, perhaps because he isn't around much and when he is, he just makes small talk.

Tim doesn't talk much either, but he stares a lot. Somehow you feel like he knows something about you, at least more than he's letting on.

And lastly, there's Damian, that pompous little shit. You know he's being amicable for Bruce, but his eyes look at you like he's judging you- thinks you're beneath him. Which is true, in the sense of finance. Despite all of that, Damian still wants to show you off his interests/things around the manor. He's still being arrogant ofc, "Look at this oil painting- it's a Van Gogh original. Van Gogh is a famous painter- he's dead though. I'm sure you aren't familiar with his works. I can take you to the Gotham gallery to show you more paintings. Father owns it, so it can be just us two without other people bothering us." He's nice but also not nice. But at least he's not doing it intentionally.

Then there's Bruce. Who is always looking at you with a small smile, but his eyes are always analysing you, even when he's not looking at you directly, you know that he's watching your every move like a hawk. He tries spending time with you, often he succeeds, only because your mother makes you go. He's a good man, hasn't done anything exactly inappropriate, but... even something as small as making you walk on the inner side of the sidewalk so that you're safe from the cars... it doesn't sit right with you. Why is he being so paternal? You certainly have been rude to him on purpose. Always giving him one word answers when he asks you how your day was.

Then one day your mother returns home with a beaming smile.

"Bruce proposed to me! We're getting married!"

After only 3 months of dating? It's what you wanted to say, but you held it back when you saw how happy she was.

The next day, Bruce held a dinner at the manor to celebrate the engagement. Surprisingly, that was the first time you saw Damian looking mad at you and your mom.

It was a reasonable reaction. Acceptable to you, instead of the overly excited yell of Dick "WE'RE GOING TO BE SIBLINGS! That means we can have slumber parties and pillow fights and-"

Your mother and Bruce were shopping for the wedding, looking at dresses and venues and all the shenanigans while you were at the manor, moving your and your mom's stuff in with the boys. It was the last thing you wanted, but your mother.... she insisted on it. Or at least that's what she says, you know Bruce insisted.

Doesn't matter because by next year, you'd be moving away to college anyways.

You just need to put up with this for a little longer and see your mother finally be happy.

You didn't expect your mother to be dead a week before the wedding.

It was out of the blue. You were sitting in the library at the manor because Dick refused to let you be alone in your room all the time, so he was making you some cookies while you read. Then he and Bruce came together, their faces pale as they looked at you.

"Y/n... your mother, she... she got in an accident."

She was driving to some restaurant, wanted to get you your favourite fried chicken and spend some time with you alone. But on her way, a truck crashed right into her car.

She died on the spot.

Whatever little improvement you had on your mental health went straight down the drain. You locked yourself in your room and just cried quietly. They left you alone the first few days, but then Bruce and Dick tried to persuade you to come out, that they were concerned for you. You did come out the day the funeral was held. And it hurt you... it hurt you so deeply when you found out they were burying her at the Wayne cemetery.

She wasn't a fucking Wayne.

If you had any strength, if you had any energy at all, you would've taken your mother and buried her someplace else.

But you didn't.

When you returned inside the manor, you went straight to your mother's room, which was also Bruce's room but you didn't care if he saw you in there or not. You just started packing all of your mother's stuff, her clothes, her jewellery, her photos, everything she came here with, which wasn't much to begin with but still.

"Y/n?" You stiffened when Bruce called you, but you didn't pause on packing. "What are you doing? Looking for something?"

You sighed. Might as well get this over with.

You turnd around, not looking him in the eye.

"I'm moving out. And I'm taking mom's stuff with me. You can check, I'm not stealing anything that belongs to you."

Bruce looked at you in confusion. "Moving out? Where are you going?"

"College. I'll be going there soon anyways, so I'm moving to an apartment with some friends."

"Oh, but you don't need to move out. You can stay with us. Youre family-" you cut him off.

"Bruce, let's not." You finally look at him. "We're not family. I never was, I never wanted to be. Mom's gone now, and I have no reason or desire to be here. Thank you for letting me stay here for as long as you have, but I will be moving out by tomorrow, if not tonight." You said picking up your mother's bag of stuff and walking out of the room. Bruce followed you to your room.

"But I don't want you to move-"

You dropped the bags. "I don't care what you want!"

Bruce looked at you with his brows furrowed. He didn't get why you were acting like this. Your yelling had gotten the attention of the boys too, all looking in confusion at the bags.

"I don't want to be a part of this family. I never have, and I never will. I never liked you or anyone in this family. And if you're concerned about me speaking to the media about you guys, don't worry. If it helps you, you can make me sign an NDA!"

Damian narrowed his eyes at you. "Dont talk to father like-"

"Shut up!" You yelled harshly. You didn't care who you were hurting. Your mother was gone, you had no reason to be amicable to them anymore.

-

They left you alone that day, and by the next morning, you were ready to leave. At 6 am, you walked down to the main door, with your bags. You weren't expecting them all to be waiting for you, but here they were. You took a step towards the door, but Dick stopped you.

He cleared his throat. "Um, this is the NDA... if you'd just sign it here." He handed you the papers.

Unbelievable. They actually drew up a contract. You took the pen from his hand and signed at the dotted lines.

"Bye." You took another step, except Damian and Tim blocked your path.

"What now?"

"Where are you going?" Tim asked.

"Do we have to go over this again?" You grumbled. "College." You answered.

"You can't." Damian said smugly. What's he smirking for?

"You're gonna break my legs?" You scoffed.

"No, you just signed a document saying that you're a part of this family, and Bruce Wayne is your guardian and has authority over all decisions concerning you like going to college, or even... going out of the house." Damian replied.

You looked at Bruce, because there's no way Damian is being serious. But there were no signs of joking. You looked at Dick, at Jason-

They were all dead serious.

"You cant- you can't be- you can't keep me here." You said.

"You signed the documents. It's your fault for not reading them." Tim said.

"Bruce-"

"I really do believe that it'd be better for you to stay here." Bruce said, taking ahold of your shoulders. "At least until you're doing better mentally."

"I'm fine-"

"I don't think so. And I could even take you to a psychiatrist, they'd agree with me." Bruce cupped your cheek as you flinched away. "You'd be happy here. I promise you that, you'll be safe and happy with us."

You'd try fighting, but you already knew you were outnumbered.

Besides, even if you weren't, even if you were alone with the smallest one of them, you still wouldn't be able to leave. You have no idea what Damian is capable of.

After all, he's the one who had your mother killed.