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spideyhexx · 1 month ago

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oct. 24 - bloody, bliss, belt and billy

Saccharine!Billy Bonney x FemaleReader

mdni!!! wc; 3.4k cw; guns, death, blood, bloodplay, fingering

kinktober 2024 masterlist

saccharine masterlist (this is standalone!!!)

a/n; very happy to bring saccharine back :) i love these two so much, fyi some dialogue is taken from s2ep5!!! Enjoy you lot and preemptive apologies ig

Fuck Buckshot. Like seriously, fuck him. And Murphy. And Jesse. And the whole lot of those guys who are after your Billy.

Not yours. Yours in theory.

He doesn’t know yet.

They are after you too and all of the guys who run with Billy, but you couldn’t give a fuck. If Billy the fucking Kid died at one of their gross hands, you would be seeing red until you were riddled with bullet holes.

It’s an unfortunate thought.

You always thought about him getting killed. He would typically brush it off when you bring it up to him. Billy was prepared to die and you hated it. But any ounce of the topic leaving your mouth, he would brush you off and redirect you.

In hindsight, he could give a small wave of his hand and you would be distracted from your initial thoughts. By his hand.

And thoughts of his hand.

Anyway, fuck Buckshot.

It was a no-brainer that Murphy sent him out to the hideout you and the rest of the gang have been holed up in for the past week. How did they find you all? You’re unsure. There was a rotation of being a lookout and none of you have seen any of Murphy’s guys.

You all were unlucky indeed.

Being truly scared by something was not in your blood, but Buckshot left chills in your damn bones. Not as good of a shot as Billy, but Buckshot was still good and he was ruthless. A kind of violence you only read myths about but you have seen with your own eyes what that grimy man was capable of.

Buckshot had approached your little hideout alone. He’s at a distance, but George recognized him the moment he saw the lazy movements of a man sipping from a flask while on his horse.

It’s a slow, but urgent rush of moving inside the small house after Billy. Billy’s jaw is tight. Not that you are looking at his jaw.

But your eyes naturally fall on him in the adrenaline rush of a possible shootout. It can’t be that bad, can it? It‘s seven on one, and the odds are in your favor, but a flash of Billy’s chest destroyed with bullet holes did not help your stomach.

He moves closer to the small window, and you and Tom trail quickly behind him. “Do you think-”

“Shh,” Billy hushes you and the restraint you hold on rolling your eyes should earn you a clap from him.

“He already knows we’re here,” you mumble and Billy only gives you a momentary glare before he’s watching through the small window again.

He raises his rifle, and cocks it, keeping it aimed right at the bumbling man coming down from his horse, his fingers gripping the weapon with an ease only Billy could have.

Your fingers twitch at your gun in your holster, but you don’t pull it out yet. Your shoulder brushes his arm and Billy shakes his head ever so slightly.

The nerve of this fucking man. A brush and he’s shaking his head at you. If you weren’t fearing for potential lives lost, you’d smack the back of his head to really get a reaction.

You can vaguely hear George’s words to Buckshot, wondering why he’s here, how he found you all. Billy is impossibly still besides his jaw clenching.

“I come to capture the Kid…alive or dead,” Buckshot says in the distance your eyes refocus out the small opening of the house. Your hand tightens to the handle of your gun. If Billy is miraculously not quick enough, you’ll get this done for him.

It’s annoying that you’re distracted a few seconds by Billy shifting up closer to the window, his fingers clenching and then relaxing on his gun, keeping it pointed, ready. You’re especially attracted to his finger near the trigger and the slight tenseness in his voice as he mutters, “C’mon Georgie, move.”

When you look back over, George is as calm as ever, stating his ground, though you echo Billy’s words in your head. Buckshot starts to laugh though, sending more chills up your spine. Your heart beats fast as he quickly pulls up his rifle.

A flurry of guns raising and cocking fills the air. You go to do your own, but Billy stops your hand, then returns his to his gun. Your brow furrows at him and he doesn’t look back at you.

By the time you look back out the window, Buckshot is shooting at George.

A gasp leaves your lips and shots ring out, Tom grabbing your arm to tug you down out of sight of the window. You hear Billy’s gun go off once, and twice, and the anguished sound of pain from outside the house. Your friends are getting shot.

You pull your gun out.

Buckshot yells out, “Billy! You fuckin’ coward, where ya at!?”

You peek from the doorway to asses who’s hurt, only to feel someone’s hand grip at your collar and pull you back.

Billy. His face is screwed in annoyance and he pulls you back completely out of the way as his voice booms, “Y’all stay here! It’s me he’s after.”

Your eyes widen as you process his words, “Bonney!”

“No,” Billy all but pushes at your head so you stay on the ground and away as he nears the doorway, “Buckshot, hold your fire!”

Maybe you’ll kill Billy before Buckshot has a chance. You stare daggers into him, but stay put on the wooden floor. His eyes quickly glance at you, before he yells, “I’m comin’ out!”

Your brain scream at you to lunge forward. Grab to his leg! Pull him down with you! Barrel yourself in front of him! But your limbs don’t work. The chills that went up your spine reached your head then flowed back down your entire body, leaving you frozen and breathing heavy as you watch Billy hold his hands out.

“You can take me alive,” he shouts over to Buckshot, stepping slow out of the house. Bouts of worry fill your chest and you force yourself to move the slightest bit to be able to watch him.

“Puttin’ my rifle down,” Billy continues, slowly setting his gun against the nearby post of the house. Some of the other men scatter to get into better positions and you take that opportunity to give yourself the final push to bring you to your feet.

You move out of the small house as Billy continues his small steps towards Buckshot. Your hand firm on your gun, staying crouched down enough to hide yourself and have a good eye on Billy.

“It’s just you and me,” he calls out. Your gaze stays strictly on his back, his broad shoulders tense as he holds his arms out in surrender. What the fuck is he thinking, you wonder, and you’re already coming up with ways to berate him later for this if he doesn’t get killed.

Buckshot rises from his hiding spot, then you feel a heat spark deep in you. It’s so quick, you should have expected it, but Billy pulls his gun from his holster like lightning and shoots at Buckshot, getting him right near his hip.

Billy stalks forward with his gun raised and you subconciously clench your thighs together, your back to the post, but head turned to watch every single one of Billy the fucking Kid’s movements.

He cocks his gun just as Buckshot fumbles for his gun, but the man stands no chance as Billy fires off again.

Billy’s steps quicken until he can drive his booted foot to Buckshot’s wrist as he was reaching for his rifle, “No, leave it,” Billy spits out and you find yourself inching closer to the scene, gun at the ready in case Buckshot gets an upperhand.

But who are you kidding?

You can feel Billy’s sneer almost as if it’s directed at you. His boot digs into the man’s wrist, as Buckshot garbles out a, “fuck you,” at Billy. His hand holds his gun with less tensity than you would expect, but that’s because Billy is all confidence. All of his actions are met with no hesitation and full bravado, enough to make you roll your eyes back and look away from him to collect yourself.

You can’t look away for too long.

Billy kneels down and grabs at Buckshot’s free arm to keep pressing him down, his voice gruff, “You lookin’ for me? You lookin’ for me huh?”

All Buckshot does is laugh like the evil son of a bitch he is but you can’t focus on him. The man on top of him, the man on top of him cocks his gun and he jams the barrel to Buckshot’s mouth, “Here I am.”

Billy squeezes the trigger, killing Buckshot in that mere instant. The beating of your heart almost hurts your chest as you stare at him, mouth parted and hand loosening on your own gun.

The man chokes for a few seconds and Billy removes his hands from him, panting. His head lifts and his eyes lock to yours. For those few moments Billy looks at you, you see the pure violence and ruthlessness swimming in his bright eyes. It should scare you, and it does, but it also excites a part of you that you wish did not exist. The same part of you that’s brutal.

His eyes flit to your lap, where you had not realized your hand was awfully high on your thigh. You feel yourself heat up, and move your hand quickly, holstering your gun, but he’s already looking away, gaze back down at Buckshot. You’re locked in as Billy spits on his corpse before he stands back up.

Spits.

Your eyes flutter and you swallow down hard, barely catching the sound of some of the men walking over, but when your eyes focus again, Billy’s stalking off towards the thicket of trees ahead, alone.

A push of adrenaline surges you onto your feet and you jog after him, ignoring any of the looks from the others.

“Billy!”

He stops short and you almost bump into his back. Well, you purposely let yourself bump into his back. It’s a little chilly outside but he’s warm.

A sigh leaves him and he turns to face you, his typical blank look challenges that violence still swarming in his eyes, but you center your attention to the blood on his face. Then drop your gaze to the blood on his hands. The redness shouts out it’s danger in a wordless manner, you know Billy, but who is this Billy? This Billy that kills without a moment’s hesitation and is not looking bothered in the slightest that he’s got another man’s blood on him. He must be bothered, you know that. His fingers twitch at his side and the blood on his pointer finger calls your name. His other hand still holds to his gun.

Get it together, cowgirl, you think to yourself. Fuck that, you think immediately after. You grab his gun from him and stuff it into his belt. Billy does nothing to stop you.

His brow raises. “What?”

“That was really fuckin’ stupid,” you mutter. In your head, you said it louder and with a bitterness to your voice, but no matter how hard you could try, it was not gonna come out that way.

His jaw tightens and he looks off to the side at nothing in particular, then back to you. His eyes rake down then back up to your face. The familiar chill runs through you, but not a scared one.

“Maybe, but it’s done. Go back to the guys, see if they need help,” Billy says, his voice still rough, nodding towards where you both came from.

“Haha. You’re not gettin’ rid of me like that, Bonney, you know that,” you tell him with a touch of that bitter tone you were hoping to give him. You step closer to him to almost be chest to chest. He doesn’t flinch or move.

“That was stupid. Buckshot is-was a good shot and he coulda easily gotten you and then killed all of us right after ya! You’re lucky you’re such a good fuckin’ shot too because-”

“Cowgirl. Slow. Your. Roll,” Billy says, his voice a bit lower, head tilted down enough to meet your gaze head on.

You grit your teeth. The indifference on his face makes your blood boil and your underwear get wetter but that’s besides the point, “No! In fact what was that stunt ya pulled in the house? You know I can handle my own and you grab me and pull me back? You push me away when I was gonna help? Billy fucking Bonney, how many times do I-”

His chapped lips from the incoming cold winter press into yours and you would not have it any other way.

It’s the…second? Third time he’s kissed you? It’s better by a million each time. The force in which Billy grabs your face, digging his bloody fingers to your cheeks and bruising your lips with his own leads to the filthiest thoughts you think you’ve ever had. This violent man that you deem yours, a little bloodied, none of it his own. Rugged and roughly giving you his all through just a mere kiss?

You give him back as much as he gives, pressing to him and fisting your hands to his vest, until you remember why you were telling him off and you push at him. “No!”

Billy blinks at you with a dazed look in his eyes and he shifts his gun belt, as if to hide the growing bulge in his pants.

It was that easy.

“Oh fuck you,” you grumble, stomping back closer and slamming your lips back to his. You don’t think about the blood now staining your cheeks or the slight metallic taste that gets in your mouth when you bite on Billy’s lip. His groan is enough to suffice and quench the way you were angry at him.

Still, you mumble to his lips through kisses, “I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“I know,” he says, backing the two of you up until you’re up against a tree. His lips trail down along your jaw, nipping at the skin, his hands awkwardly not holding onto you.

“Billy, just touch me.”

“They’re dirty.”

You roll your eyes. “Billy you already touched my face, I don’t care about the fuckin’ blood.”

To prove your words, you undo the buttons of your trousers, then grab his wrist, pulling his hand down the front of your pants. For a second you’re afraid he’ll reject this. You have yet to do something as much as this with him, but your body is aching. Your feelings beyond being angry or worried about him, but feeling fucking alive at the way he killed Buckshot.

He doesn’t hesitate.

Billy the fucking Kid. Man. He’s a man.

Billy moans and leans his forehead to your cheek, his fingers dipping into your underwear and sliding against your cunt to get a feel for you.

“I would watch you kill that motherfucker over and over again if you did it that way,” you whisper to him with a harsh breath as his fingers circle your clit, like he knows your body already despite having never touched it like this.

“This is sick of you,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to your cheek and lingering his lips there. You don’t point out to Billy that although it may be fucked of you to enjoy this while his fingers are bloodied with someone else’s blood, he may be just as sick for kissing near the blood stain on your cheek and promptly licking over his lips to let the blood into his mouth.

You want to call him out for it so bad, but he eases his finger into you just right, breathing hot on your face.

“Oh…fuck,” you whisper, glancing down, your knees almost buckling as he starts to slowly thrust his finger into you, and you catch the side of his bulge, more prominent than you may have ever seen it, straining to his trousers and begging for your attention.

“Bonney, can I-”

“Yes,” he cuts you off, taking his finger out just enough to add a second. You bite your lip to stifle your moan, your hand finding the outline of his cock and palming him, giving him some sort of friction that he clearly needed because Billy adjusts his arm and begins fucking his fingers quick up into you.

Billy nods to your cheek when you whimper, “I know, I know, I knew you’d get so fuckin’ wet for me, Cowgirl, but…fuck you’re dirty, fuck I got his fuckin’ blood…,” Billy can’t finish his words because he has to muffle his own noise, pressing his face into your hair and nuzzling his nose at your temple.

“You…you spit on him,” you mumble and Billy shakes his head against you, curling his fingers and massaging them in you to get you to whimper. He likes that sound, you deduce.

“I spit on him,” Billy repeat and his free hand shoots up to your jaw, holding your face up and he spits on your lips before you can open your mouth to receive it. It makes his eyes flutter and his forehead rest to yours, his fingers making quick work even with the restraint your pants give. You can both hear the sound, how wet you are and how his palm slaps to your cunt with each thrust.

He knows you can’t focus on rubbing him, but what you are able to do is enough in the moment. Your thumb rubs right at his tip over his pants, feeling the wet spot forming the more you press into it. You can barely look at your Billy, though that’s all you want to do. All you want to do is look at the man.

He squeezes your jaw and kisses the corner of your mouth, a sweeter kiss than you’d expect in the moment as you clench around his fingers and resist screaming out his name. Another time.

“Gonna come on your fingers, Billy,” you shudder, and he quickens the pace, brow furrowed and eyes locked intensely on your face.

“Make ‘em more of a mess, go ahead, please,” he whispers, a desperation wafting from his voice and his hips bucking your hand. What sends you over the edge is his thumb just barely slipping to your mouth, the taste of blood filling your senes as you spasm on his fingers, and bite your cheek hard enough to draw your own blood.

You’ve never felt this blissed out. Your legs almost buckle, but Billy presses against you enough to keep you standing as his fingers work you through the orgasm, his breath panting and his nose finding your temple again, where he leaves the softest kiss, you almost would not notice it.

“Fuck,” you breathe out, his fingers slipping out of you and then pulling from your pants. His fingers surely are a slick mess, the remnants of blood still there and the wet spot on the front of his pants bigger than when you first saw it.

You stare at him. He stares at you. Your breaths aren’t returning to normal, but you cannot look away from him.

“I didn’t want you to get hurt either,” he blurts out, referring most likely to why he pushed you back earlier.

“No shit.”

He straightens up and shakes his head. He would roll his eyes at you, you’re sure, but he doesn’t.

You slap at his chest but he grabs your wrist, “Hey!”

“Don’t ever remind me of this,” he tells you in a low voice. You frown. Was this him rejecting you? That it was a mistake all along? That he acted on some weird impulse and did not care to continue this despite the constant-

“About this part,” he mutters, awkwardly gesturing to his pants.

Your Billy.

Your lips start to quirk and he squeezes your wrist tighter, “Cowgirl, No. I said no.”

“One sentence,” you beg, even adding a little whine. Just for him.

He tries to give you a stern look, but his shoulders slump and he shifts on his feet, “One.”

Letting yourself smile, you take a deep breath, “You must reallyyyyy fuckin’ like me if you come that easily, Bonney. And-”

“Ah Ah Ah,” he interrupts and puts his palm over your mouth, but you can see the hint of a smile on his lips, and the violence gone from his eyes.

Your Billy.

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creedslove · 7 months ago

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DAVE YORK AND YOUR PREGNANCY - HEADCANONS

Dave York x f!reader

A/N: hi besties! I'm glad to see you all coming down to ask box to talk about Dave because honestly, I think the world needs to recognize more of murder daddy and our Dave York apologists™ community needs to grow! Also, I sort of kept this headcanon here in my mind and I've also had a bug craving of female rivalry with our favorite person to hate: Carol, hehehe enjoy 😉

• it's not a secret to anyone the whole reason why Dave married Carol was because she got pregnant in the first place; they didn't love each other that much, but their relationship wasn't all bad, so when she showed up knocked up it was only the logical step to jump into marriage

• and it was already in the early stages of the pregnancy, Dave noticed the task wasn't going to be as easy as he thought it would, or more like it, it would be as easy to be around Carol as he thought it would. Quite the opposite, she managed to show her true colors as soon as it finally sank in she was indeed pregnant

• their relationship wasn't the best thing that'd ever happened to either of them, but at least they had an active social life, had a decent sexual life and other stuff going on, things weren't always miserable, but whatever kind of bond that could exist between them was suddenly gone, as she did everything in her power to keep Dave away from her

• first of all, all she would complain was about being nauseous, which is common for pregnant women Dave knew, he wasn't a man cave after all, although it started to annoy the hell outta him the fact she claimed to feel sick at the smell of his perfume, his aftershave, his shampoo, his clothes and eventually himself

• and then, it started with the fact that whenever he put his hands on her, she couldn't even hide his grossed out she was; she simply didn't want to feel him, she didn't want him cooking her food and whenever she had an outburst for gaining weight or looking bigger, she would cry, scream, accuse and pick fights blaming it on him for making her body

• and as the pregnancy progressed, so did this situation, it was so stressful and annoying, the way she would just waste money on things, complaining about cute, heartfelt presents she got because she said her baby didn't need anything given to them, she also complained about whatever Dave bought, it was never correct: it was either too pink or not pink enough and so on

• by the time their daughter was born, Dave was already exhausted, and even if he loved her with all his heart, it wasn't what he expected from fatherhood, deep down he feared she would be just like her mom one day - sad news, she turned out exactly like Carol

• and Dave carried on his marriage without the same flame, he was disappointed in the person he married, and when his second girl came along, the experience wasn't any better, but there wasn't anything he couldn't do about it

• so when Dave got divorced and married you, things were so different, he enjoyed how light and gentle your marriage truly was; he loved the good dynamics you both had; how caring and affectionate you were towards each other, how fun days were without a heavy routine, just doing as you pleased and spending time with each other

• things were so good between the two of you, and as Dave finally learned how to sort of balance the distance from his daughters - you still found him in his office staring at pictures of them as toddlers during special holidays at the same time he sighed whenever he tried calling or texting them and was completely ignored it just replied with dry, annoyed texts, was when you found out you were pregnant

• Dave was a mix of feelings, he knew it was a possibility, after all you two weren't so careful with preventing it, but he couldn't help feeling his heart drop, just to imagine he would lose that close side of your relationship because of his experiences as a father and he was so scared about resenting his baby over it, as much as he tried reminding himself he wasn't like his mother at all

• so when you came to him and told about your suspicions, he was supportive, but you could tell he was holding himself back, and knowing about his marriage background and the real drama he often went on with Molly and Alice, you could have a good picture of how complicated things were

• so he drove you to the drugstore, he bought tests next to you and he waited by your side until you got the results - positive, of course - the next day, he drove you to the clinic and waited as you went through every single exam that could attest if you were indeed expecting

• and as much as he held you, kissed you and showed happiness, you still saw something was off, deep in down, Dave's biggest fear was that he was going to lose you to the baby, because Carol wasn't a great partner but whatever he had with her, was gone, and he couldn't face the same happening between the two of you

• you then, gave him some time and space, knowing he had a mission coming in the next few days, you really thought of asking him not to go, but you knew you couldn't actually do it, so you just wished him a nice and safe trip and reminded him how much you loved him

• and once Dave came back was when he realized that perhaps things weren't going to be lost between the two of you, because yeah, he called every single day to check up on you and the baby, and he knew you'd started your nausea/hunger/sleepy phase so he figured once he got home, you would star drifting apart from him

• but much to his surprise, you didn't, quite the opposite: you practically jumped on him, because you wanted to hug and hold Dave in your arms, you wanted to feel his warmth and weight, and god, his scent simply drove you insane with desire and satisfaction

• you complimented his cologne, his shampoo, the scent of his clothes, soap, you name it... you just loved everything and you loved burying your face into his neck and sniffing him

• his pancakes were also to die for: it didn't matter if he made them sweet or tried different salty recipes, if it was breakfast or just breakfast for dinner, you loved spending time with him and appreciating his food, and you also thanked him for adding fruits and many other healthy things into your diet

• your sex life also improved, with differences of course, mostly, Dave wouldn't be so rough, he was more romantic and soft towards you and there was no stress: you wanted him as much as he wanted you, the hormones, the passion, the romance was all in synch and even if you eventually got a little insecure about your body changes, there weren't cries, arguments, all it took the two of you was just some reassurance from Dave's side, the way he would sometimes hold you in front of a mirror and grab your lotion and spread all over your skin, or how he would nuzzled your neck and whisper into your ear how sexy you were becoming or even when he would bury himself between your thighs until you couldn't handle it anymore, was enough to settle things

• over the course of your pregnancy, Dave realized your bond was stronger than never, because you two were very much in love, you were expecting a child Dave already loved so much without the fear of this baby growing into an obnoxious child like it happened before

• the fact he was going to have a little boy after two girls was also pretty exciting for him, as he figured it would be somehow easier and he kind of had hopes to fix his own traumas by being a kind father to a boy, knowing what a boy needed as growing up

• he loved how happy and careful you were with everything you got as a gift for the baby: baby shoes, clothes, onesies, you were so thankful for people's kindness to gift your baby, never trash-talking anything you got and also thanking Dave for the gifts

• he realized you were both more united, not working against each other with a baby in the middle, but instead, working together in order to raise that precious little thing you two loved so much and it showed him a real meaning of family to him

• you two were meant to be, your baby was loved by the two of you with all your hearts and you couldn't want another life, things were good and the Yorks were finally happy the way they deserved to be ❤️

____

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal headcanon #pedro pascal headcanons #dave york #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x y/n #dave york fanfiction #dave york fanfic #dave york headcanon #dave york headcanons

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goodqueenaly · 4 months ago

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If Elia wasn’t at harrenhal would Rhaegar crowning Lyanna have still been a scandal?

I think so, yes - a scandal different in kind, and perhaps to a limit extent different in degree as well, but a scandal nonetheless. While I do not at all want to undersell the extent to which Rhaegar passing over his own wife shocked and offended onlookers at Harrenhal - there is a reason Elia reportedly sat there “stiff-backed and trying to act as if nothing was wrong” in a probable attempt to minimize Rhaegar’s public humiliation of her - Rhaegar’s choice to snub his wife was only part of the Harrenhal tourney scandal. This is a point I made before (in a reblog from the late great Steven Attewell), but to reiterate, while the crowning of a queen of love and beauty is not necessarily and in all cases an expression of romantic sentiment, this act is not also completely free of such implications in every case either - especially when the chosen lady (or, rather, girl) is, by the standards of her (creepy, fetishizing) society, “part child, part woman … [a] ‘maid’ … [f]ertile but innocent, beloved of the singers��. For a man who was himself the son of a monarch infamous (at least in his early reign) for his seemingly omnivorous sexual appetite, offering the crown of queen and love and beauty to a beautiful, as yet unmarried (more on that in a moment) maiden, without any obvious sociopolitical justification for doing so, I think would have been seen as no less than the prince propositioning Lyanna in front of virtually the entire assembled nobility of Westeros - in other words, scandal enough on its own, without the added IOTL insult to Elia.

Moreover, because Lyanna was betrothed - and betrothed to the Lord of Storm’s End, no less - Rhaegar offering her the crown of the queen of love and beauty was a gross political insult, one immediately recognized by the Stark-Baratheon party present. Indeed, not for nothing does Yandel report that “Lady Lyanna's brothers seem[ed] so distraught at the honor the prince had bestowed upon her”, with “Brandon Stark … [having] to be restrained from confronting Rhaegar at what he took as a slight upon his sister's honor”, Eddard being “calmer but no more pleased”, and Robert Baratheon “brood[ing] on the insult”, so much so that “his heart hardened toward the Prince of Dragonstone from that day forth”. Even if Rhaegar, and likely the vast majority of the attendees, probably knew nothing about the specific geopolitical goals of the Stark-Tully-Baratheon-Arryn power bloc, every Westerosi aristocrat could appreciate the standard expectations of alliance represented by diplomatic marriages - expectations threatened by the apparent attempt by the crown prince to seize and use the Stark maiden at his whim, and presumably similarly discard her at his leisure. Again, if I can quote myself, “Lyanna was just sexualized enough to be seriously considered a target of romantic attraction while also being just unavailable enough to make any such attraction from anyone not her betrothed (or, perhaps, one of her brothers or her father’s bannermen) truly scandalous”.

#asoiaf meta #tourney of Harrenhal #lyanna stark #rhaegar targaryen

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starfirette · 2 years ago

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School Reunion

He was a a lithe figure of all rhyme and very little reason...

...especially he gestured for you to come closer. Tousled tufts of soft, brown hair flopped over his forehead, not so strictly gelled back today. His hair was ultimately the first thing that warmed you up to him. His previous face was undoubtedly your first, true love--all blue eyes and ears, knit sweaters under leather jackets, and a secret soft side...

❇Tenth Doctor x Fem Reader

❇hmmmm this took a month to perfect! I shall page @bellaswansrealgf because this does indeed have a size kink portion :)) this is cross posted to my ao3 (username is the same if you want to check that out!)

You were the illustrious and young English teacher, and he was the older, more experienced Physics teacher.

But it had only been a game. It was the ruse for a job at some school.

Of course you had "just" graduated college; you needed a guided hand to show you how to handle those rowdy students. "Professor Smith," you said as you batted your eyelashes. The size difference between you two was enough to make you squirm, thighs clenched and heart beating in anticipation.

"Poor thing," 'Mr Smith' had said. His hand is ruffling up the chiffon of your knee length skirt. "You're so needy for attention. You'd take any bit of attention from even the science teacher."

You wouldn't yet go into further detail of what conspired that day. After all, it was a little bit inappropriate of you two to do such fooling around during the hours of an investigation. Rose would have been livid to know that while she was slinging chips and pizza to students and staff, you and the Doctor were rather preoccupied with teaching not the students but yourselves just how Miss [L/n] and Mr Smith ought to behave.

Of course, the roleplay was divine. Mr Smith was a role that the Doctor deeply enjoyed to act with, especially when it came to shamelessly flirting with you as if he didn't know you. You suspect he had all his fun that way.

Apart from the canoodling in the workplace, everything else was really a ruse. The way it all started is a little bit convulated, but Rose heard from Mickey who must have heard from someone else that strange things were going on back in her hometime. (Hometime was a bit of a private joke between you, Rose, and the Doctor, it's a play on the word hometown! You and the Doctor fight for the credit of who actually coined the term but Rose often sides with the argument that you truly did.) The Doctor went into full dramatic effect, as he tends to do, and he created you a full fledged identity and a college degree. In real life (for lack of a better term)you're almost done with college where you're honestly pursuing a degree for English Literature.

The Doctor surprised you with the position at this school. Albeit it's undercover, he wanted you to have some fun. His face lit up like the lights on a Christmas tree when he saw how excited you were. Granted, this was a far cry from being an English professor at a prestigious university, as you drunkenly confessed to his prior face while celebrating the win against the nanogenes during the second World War. Though he looked different then, he still loved you with the same, big heart.

Hearts.

Force of habit.

Day One of the mission was the easiest mostly because day one didn't require real work. Rose helped you research the winning numbers for some lottery tickets. She dropped off two winning tickets at the homes of a couple teachers from the school: one from the Mathematics department, one from the Literature.

Needless to say both resigned in an instant. Unfortunately this sparked nasty rumors which accounted the two teachers (who really didn't know one another at all) were having an affair. Well, so long as they enjoyed the money. And since neither of their spouse's seemed to believe these rumors, you supposed there was no real harm done.

Day two consisted of applying for the jobs and actually getting them. The interview process went well. You interviewed with the superintendent who claimed the headmaster was busy.

'This isn't fair,' Rose said. 'I want to be a teacher.'

'You'd look so cute as the lady administrator,' you pointed out from the sofa of the Tardis common room. 'You could wear fake specs. Y'know, look over them and give students dirty looks. Type obnoxiously on your clunky laptop. It's such a shame mini iPads weren't invented sooner. I'd look soooo cute carrying mine around.'

Rose groaned theatrically as she collapsed onto the sofa. She rolled on top of your lap, pushing the remote out of your hands so you could pay attention to her. 'Tell your boyfriend to make me a teacher,' Rose indignantly said. Her nose scrunched as you shifted your thigh to push her off.

'My hands are full,' The Doctor said through a mouthful of snack food. He tossed a sprinkle of crumbs at Rose, consequently catching some on your lap. You shoved his face with mock disregard. 'You mean your hands are tied,' you corrected.

'Sure,' he said, 'that too.'

The start of day three. You dressed in a knee length skirt with pointy flats and a smart looking blazer. You decided to forgo a pair of fake specs (though you were known to occasionally need a pair of real lenses ever since a strange trip with your blue-eyed, prominent-nosed Doctor to an interesting laser show which had some nasty effects on your eyes; it was some sort of festival on Mars in the year 3000). As you walked down the hall to your class room the Doctor walked past, heading the opposite way to the Mathematics department. He sent a prolonged look up and down your outfit.

"Hello, Mr Smith," you said curtly. You had to fight the grin that tussled with your lips. You enjoyed playing your role too, too much.

Mr Smith uncharacteristically fumbled over his feet as he looked over his shoulder to meticulously study the way your bum and hips moved as you went about your merry way. Needless to say this is when he decided to amp up his game.

The children in your classroom couldn't have been older than fourteen. You didn't expect anything outwardly startling at this point, because you didn't yet realize the secrets this school held.

You took a look at the lesson plan the students had been going through before their previous teacher took a miracle vacation to Sicily to renew their marriage vows.

Good for them.

"Who would like to examine the motifs of this scene?" you asked. You were picking through a bit of Macbeth. A beginning scene with the three witches; it should be easy enough. How typcal to have stumbled upon their Shakespeare unit. An obligatory staple of middle school. Or highschool. Whatever grade these kids are in. You tried thinking of it in terms of Harry Potter; are they fifth years? Harry Potter was certainly fifteen during Order of the Phoenix.

You contemplated this as no one actually tried discussing Macbeth.

"Would anyone like to mention anything?" Your attempts to get them talking was dismal. Perhaps they missed their old teacher. You felt a little guilty. Even more guilt poured in you when you obnoxiously thought that their old teacher wasn't missing them, not while they were having a second honeymoon in Sicily!

"Anything?"

You could have heard an eyelash drop in that room.

"Going on about motif, it's rather interesting that when Macbeth enters, he notes...? What does he say that directly links him to the witches? Oh, goodness, I've lost my place...'So foul and fair a day I have not seen.' Does anyone remember what the three witches say in the opening scene?"

Finally a hand is raised.

You want to thank the kid profusely as you call on her. "What's your name?"

"Addie Jones," the girl said.

"Wonderful! Nice to meet you, Miss Addie. Do you remember the line?"

"'Fair is foul and foul is fair. Hover through the fog and filthy air.'"

"Excellent," you tell her with a smile. "Not only does this line set the overarching theme for the story, it also is a neat trick Shakespeare put in. Macbeth enters a few scenes later and by repeating their words, he's effectively sealed his own fate. This is a pretty good example of a motif. Does anyone know what a motif is?" You scanned the room, hoping for another arm to pop up, but Addie's hand waved shyly in your sight. You understood, then, why teachers threatened to call on students at random. You'd threaten that yourself if you knew anyone else's name. Besides, Addie seemed eager enough to share her answer. "Addie!"

"A motif is a series of repeated patterns, often dialogue or imagery, in literature used to further a narrative."

Whoa.

"Great answer," you told Addie, a sincere smile capturing your lips. "Given that definition, can anyone find other motifs in the play?"

Addie raised her hand.

"Does anyone other than Addie have an idea?" you tried. To no avail, you nodded at Addie. You took a seat behind your desk, grabbing a pen to jot down a forethought about Harry Potter.

Addie took a loud and deep breath. "Another integral motif in the play is sleep. Banquo states, act two scene one, 'And yet I would not sleep. Merciful powers restrain in me cursed thoughts that nature gives way to response.' Act two, scene two, Macbeth by now has killed the king. 'There's one did sleep laugh in's sleep, and one cried Murder!' 14 lines later, same scene, Macbeth then says, 'Methought I heard a voice cry 'sleep no more! Macbeth does murder sleep. The innocent sleep, sleep which knits-,'"

You were extremely puzzled. You tried to gently interupt Addie's train of thought, which seemed to be more than just reading directly from her book than actually answering your question. Taking a stand, your flats smacking the linoleum floor, you strolled back to the front of the classroom, your lesson plan in hand. You caught a glance at Addie's desk. Wherein you'd been expecting to see her fingers eagerly scanning along the pages of her open book, you found that her textbook was rather shut, her hands clasped atop it as she waited for you to say something.

Blinking in surprise, you looked back at the lesson plan. You skimmed through a couple pages. Just when did they begin studying this play? That thought was muting all of your prior Harry Potter saga theories. Only at the start of the week...and they were only assigned an at home reading for the first four scenes.

Perhaps Addie liked to read. Perhaps she enjoyed Macbeth so very much that she chose to memorize the entire damn play.

You hadn't seen any notes marking Addie's remarkable abilities in the subject, so you wondered on about how she could have done such a quick study of the play. "He certainly prattles on about sleep, doesn't he?" you asked Addie, who grinned toothily and nervously. "What do you think it means?" you continued as you hugged the lesson plan to your chest.

That smile faded. "Oh. I'm not sure." Addie, who had memorized all the lines and their scenes regarding 'sleep', was at a loss for words.

You felt a little bit guilty to find that she seemed incredibly embarrassed to be without an answer. You didn't necessarily care, but you wanted to probe for more answers. "Want to venture a guess? Why do you think sleep is so important here? What might it symbolize?"

Addie went red in the face. She played with the edges of her textbook. Her nails pulled apart the layers of the hard cover, flaking specks of cardboard across her desk.

"We could ask ourselves what a literary symbol is," you continued, quickly trying to move on before Addie could explode. "What's a symbol in literature? Maybe someone aside from Addie?"

You sighed. Defeated again. Tomorrow you'd have to try harder. "Alright, Addie, take it away."

After taking a breath of relief, Addie prattled away, "A symbol in literature is one of the literary devices that an author might use to convey a hidden message or theme. Symbols often are represented through objects or ideas that serve with a literal purpose but have metaphorical meaning which furthers the narrative, much like a motif."

Puzzled by her in depth definition all you could really do was nod in response. 'That's correct," you informed her. Though it was far too correct. It didn't sound at all like the answer of a thirteen year old girl. It sounded like a line from a thesis paper or even from some dictionary. Her knowledge us certainly expansive but robotic in nature. She can identify patterns, like motifs and sleep and what not, but she can't analyze their meaning.

You frowned. More accurately, she couldn't form her own thoughts on the subject matter.

During lunch break, you searched the cafeteria for the Doctor. You went through the line, declining food after food. You made a scene of asking Rose for an apple, and then you leaned in close as she handed it to you. "I found something a little bit strange. Sweet girl in my class basically memorized her English textbook. She might as well have memorized mine. Have you seen him?"

Rose's brow twitched with contempt. "No," she said sharply. "Fuck 'im, really, I'm stuck back here slinging chips at bratty kids and he's off doing who knows w-oh, there he is." She pointed him out in the crowd of students, the man sitting at a table and picking apart a turkey and cheese sandwich layer by layer. "He's bein' weird again," Rose snickered. The Doctor smelled one slice of bread. "Oh, God, go stop him. I can't watch him deface himself like this. Wait, take your apple, now. If I was working on commission then you'd be of no use to me. That's right, take some milk, too. Not the skim, you daft. That's basically water. Take the two percent."

You tried to juggle the milk and apple that Rose had tossed in your arms as you sped walked towards the Doctor. You dropped the apple on the table as you took a seat in front of him. His nimble fingers dropped the bread in a split second and he eyed you close. "I've got something," you said.

"Ah, ah," the Doctor said sharply with a wag of his finger. "I don't even know you and you're going to sit down, without even asking, and try and engage in conversation? Tsk. You naughty thing."

You rolled your eyes. "It's nice to meet you," you told him, playing into his game. "I'm Y/n L/n, yada yada. Anyways. Girl in my class-"

He shook his head. "Nope. You didn't ask my name."

"I know your name," you mocked his tone. "We met at the staff meeting."

"How do I know you actually remember it?" the Doctor challenged you. "Go on, just ask my name!" He looked much too amused as you angrily peeled open the cap to your milk.

"What's your name," you therefore said monotonously, trying to void the words of any inquiring tone.

"John Smith, physics professor. I'm single, by the way."

"Anyway! Girl in my class! Basically memorized the entire textbook. She had an answer for most of the questions. However, those answers were all...materialistic. I don't know how to describe it. She didn't know how to input her own thoughts. It was like she just downloaded all the information to her brain. Does that make sense?"

The Doctor nodded. "I've had a similar experience. Kid in my own class has knowledge way beyond planet earth." He pushed his plate of food forward. "Try some."

"No, thanks," you said politely. "I'm not very hungry. Something about this food weirds me out," you drawled as you poked his lightly tousled food around. He was more sampling everything rather than eating. "I've always hated school food. The chips look...odd. The smell of them is somehow off. Does that make any sense?"

"Come with me," the Doctor responded, not saying anything to your earlier rebuttals regarding the school food. "Toss that, I'm not going to eat it," he added. He took the tray and dumped it. You followed behind him as he slid his tray with the other dirty ones. Rose sent him a glare so foul you were surprised he didn't collapse on the spot. A glare like that could make him regenerate. "Found anything strange?"you ask Rose before she and the Doctor can get into a cat fight, an occurrence which frequents the TARDIS.

Rose gossiped, "Half the kitchen staff got replaced not too long ago. And this lot are weird. Get this! The entire lunch menu has been designed by the headmaster himself. What qualifies him to even do that? Don't you have to study...nutrition?" Rose shook her blonde fringe from her milk chocolate eyes. A flare of mischief came in her eyes. "I bet he didn't."

"Is nutrition a course of study? Actually, it is, isn't it? Oh, Rose you should be a nutritionist!" You said gleefully.

The Doctor sighed. He furrowed his eyebrows as he tried to keep up with his two companions.

"Oh, shush," Rose chided to you. "The point is we've been at this for three days! We don't even know what's going on. More like you two don't even know what's going on. I've done my part! I reported back to you an' all!" She looked at you both with arms folded across her chest and her eyebrows raised indignantly. She licked her lower lip in a dare for you or the Doctor to argue back, her chocolate-brown eyes strangely malicious. "That's right, isn't it? You've got nothin' to say but-"

"Stop yelling at us!" The Doctor finally dished back. He seemed irritated beyond his senses, which was typical of him. "Your boyfriend is the one who called us."

Rose's mouth quivered at the term. Her lips opened and closed as though she was a fish out of water. "Mickey's not my--hang on a minute, where are you two going?" she finally demanded as the Doctor started to manhandle you. You looked vaguely surprised, staring at him with incredulity.

"Research!" the Doctor called without looking as he kept his deft fingers tightly wound on your wrist. "We've get a lead!"

You struggled to let her know as he escorted you away.

The halls were empty as the Doctor pulled you contently down the Mathematics hall. His classroom was certainly empty, all students eating their lunch for the next thirty or so minutes.

"Show me what you've got," you told him excitedly as he turned the lock on the door. You looked around eagerly for whatever gadget or gizmo he was going to produce. You waited for another moment before you watched with curiosity as the Doctor settled himself easily on the edge of his desk. "Where is it?" you asked.

"What do you mean?" The Doctor countered, crossing his arms with some semblance of an attitude. You mimicked the pressing of a sonic screwdriver. "Where's the...gizmo...aren't you going to sonic something?"

"Oh. No gizmo," the Doctor said. "Not this time. Well, not right now, actually, I'm sure I'll sonic some sort of gizmo sometime soon. No, I actually wanted this time for ourselves. I'm not fond of your attitude, Miss L/n."

You raised a brow. "My attitude?"

The Doctor nodded. "Exactly. Your behavior has been nothing short of abysmal. Neglecting me, running about with Rose, and entirely disregarding your duties here. I supplied you with a title of superiority and you have sorely misused it. There's only one word to describe you these past two days."

For a brief moment your heart stuttered with genuine fear, but then you watched the sparks which flickered in his hazel brown eyes burst into a large flame.

"Naughty."

You barked a laugh. You put a hand over your fast beating heart. "That's not funny," you chastised. "I thought you were being serious!"

The Doctor raised an eyebrow.

No going back now. Not with the rapid pooling of warmth in the bottom of your belly. The Doctor shook his head, tutting his tongue as he folded his arms.

He was a a lithe figure of all rhyme and very little reason; especially he gestured for you to come closer. Tousled tufts of soft, brown hair flopped over his forehead, not so strictly gelled back today. His hair was ultimately the first thing that warmed you up to him.

His previous face was undoubtedly your first, true love--all blue eyes and ears, knit sweaters under leather jackets, and a secret soft side with a not so quiet splash of kinky foreplay. There were zero hints of that face in this one, and the first time you saw it you didn't know what quite to think.

The Doctor had burst into a bright, ball of golden light. Spheres, marble sized, of such light fizzled around him, orbiting his figure while Rose gripped your hand. Her fingers slipped on the fresh blood, making you wince as she slid over the fresh slice. The fight against the Daleks had been the most important matter in all the world just moments ago. And now you felt as though...you were about to lose everything.

Your mouth burned with the hard kiss the Doctor had given you. His tongue had meddled against yours, sweeping the roof of your mouth the way he knew you liked. His thumbs swiped away the tears that dotted the corners of your eyes, and just like that, he was saying goodbye. And then this.

Dizzying rushes of blinking in and out of reality coursed through you. This almost felt like a dream. The image charading in front of you didn't seem right. This wasn't how it was supposed to go, afterall. You three were supposed to find Jack and go home, wherever 'home' was. No matter where home was, the day would always end with you laying on the Doctor's chest, ear to dual hearts while he played with your hair.

And yet that wasn't how this was going to end.

Rose gripped your hand tight. Your vision flickered with stars as her fingers slipped into the gash on your hand. Nausea punched you in the gut as the light grew brighter and brighter. Stop, you wanted to tell him. It's not funny.

It wasn't funny at all.

The energy surged, so loud you could almost hear it, you could practically feel it sizzling inside of you. Energy sang inside the TARDIS: the chime high and loud, the pitch far beyond any regular frequency. And God, it hurt.

The ringing ascended frequency and finally it shut off as the Doctor cried out just a bit.

The light disappeared.

And so had your Doctor.

You crept closer.

He pushed his leg out, patting the top of his thigh. "Take a seat, Miss L/n," he sighed, making a point to sound disappointed. He would really be if you didn't play along! So you hopped up to take a seat, holding onto the back of his neck for leverage as you made yourself comfortable.

It wasn't unusual for him to become unexpectedly horny, especially in the midst of a mission such as this. He was one for taking fortified risks.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" he asked.

"Just that I've been a very bad girl," you informed him with an exaggerated pout. You puckered your lower lip. "I just wanted your attention, Mr. Smith."

"Consider it done. You've certainly caught my attention with this little garb," the Doctor said as he pushed a hand up your skirt. His lean fingers squeezed the inside of your thigh, making you squirm. The flash of quick pain on the easily bruised skin made your heart rush. Looking up at him, it was easy to spot the remnants of the other Doctor. Your first Doctor.

Though his face has changed, and you love him all the same-if not more-he'll always have that face.

"Professor Smith," you said as you batted your eyelashes. The size difference between you two was enough to make you squirm, stomach clenched with eager anticipation.

"Poor thing," 'Mr Smith' said. His hand kneaded the jiggling flesh of your leg, pinching it and grinning at the way you wiggled in his grip. "You're so needy for attention," he cooed. "You'd take any bit of attention from even the science teacher."

His mouth pressed against yours. Lips against lips, both soft as the petals of a flower, but clashing hard, as if you two had never kissed before! But kisses are less than few-and-far; they're frequent. They're the Doctor's favorite past time.

Even with this face you two spend nights in his study, laying in the chaise lounge, your ear against his chest and listening to his dual hearts. Even with this face do you two kiss passionately into the hours of the ambient night lights that the TARDIS has set for you. Your hands plucked at the buttons of his shirt. His build was entirely different from the previous one he bore. Where then he'd been slightly bulkier with more muscle and mass, he was now slender, lithe, and graceful. He walked like a cat with cunning mischief on his mind. His deft fingers were slipping up your skirt, hooking across the band of your underwear and cheekily tugging them down as he pushed his thumbs into your hips.

He loved, loved, the curves of your body (he always had. It wasn't something that would ever change). He liked to grip the fleshy parts of you tight, squeeze and fondle any parts of you he could get his hands on. You splayed your fingers out like a starfish, pushing your hand on his sternum just between both hearts. You could feel them both beating fast as his shirt drifted open, framing his clavicle and abdomen like a picture. He couldn't be more gorgeous than this; freckles constellated his pale skin. The shades that stood out on his skin compared to yours made your lips curl. The colors were like blots of paint on a pallet in the hands of an artist.

Confidently, you believed that a painting with every shade your two bodies had to offer would outshine the Mona Lisa or Starry Night.

The Doctor's hand crept below the threshold of your underwear. His thumb padded through the plush lips of your pussy, nudging at your pearled clit. "Not nearly as wet as I'd prefer," the Doctor chastised as he flexed his thumb in a circle on your clit, not bothering to start at a slow pace. The quick lashings of a hurried pleasure made your body tremble. Like a startled newborn you spasmed in his hold, nearly collapsing backwards. If he hadn't had an arm around your waist you would have made a fool of yourself.

"Can't stay still?" The Doctor cooed. "The more I rub this little clit, the more wet that oozes out of you. That makes it so easy for me to simply..."

Your voice strained as the Doctor slowly pushed his middle finger inside of you. He moved slowly so that you could feel every bit of your cunt that he stretched out. For all the times you'd ever attempted to stick something inside of yourself, this really took the cake.

Every time you tried it just felt...like you were sticking something inside of yourself. Like there was just something inside a vaginal cavity; Just something inside that was vibrating.

Not sexy, nor pleasurable.

The amount of times you'd attempted to do gymnastics around your bedroom in your home time, stretching your legs or doing back bends, all to find the magical spot that the internet claimed existed. These exploits were all for naught.

Imagine how strange a feeling it was for you to be proven wrong by the Doctor. You swore up and down there was something wrong, something maybe even broken, but no matter what, you just didn't have what other women suspiciously claimed to have. Well, the Doctor loves to prove others wrong. You can imagine how that first night went, with him grinning down at you and touching both the inside and outside of you at once to bring about a genre of pleasure you hadn't realized existed.

You gnawed on your lip as the Doctor slowly pushed a second digit inside, still tending to your clit to keep the feeling from being too uncomfortable. "It's alright," the Doctor said softly. He shifted his body, making a swift stand as he set you on the desk and settled between your legs, without removing his hand from you at all. He widened the gap between your legs so your knees laid hip length apart. His tall figure stood straight as he looked down at your cunt which dropped over his hand.

"And there it is," he sighed. "You're taking it like a good girl, aren't you? Even though we're in a school. A learning facility. Have you no shame?"

Whether or not he wanted an answer, you couldn't say. Your vision was blurry as he pumped up into a secret place inside of you while also stimulating your clit. The small bundle of nerves was pulsating, having become a bulbous bud of despair and anxiety. It tensed and twitched under every touch but ultimately it yearned for more. You kept tensing around his fingers, holding onto the lapels of his jacket tight.

The Doctor looked down at you. He smirked.

"You're holding onto me with quite a strong grip. Afraid I'll pull away? Afraid I'll stop? Your cunt just keeps squeezing onto me. So hot and wet. So comforting. Don't you wish it was my cock?"

You panted out a reply, not bothering to sound witty or naughty. Not the time. "Yes."

A laugh. A genuine sound. The musical chime of it faded before the Doctor replied, "I do, too. But first I'll watch you cum on my fingers. It's alright. Door's all locked. My attention is entirely on you. You've been working so hard, so eager to please Mr Smith. Now you ought to let Mr Smith please you. Although...I should be punishing you. Shouldn't I? I'm sure it wouldn't be much of a real punishment, though. After all, you tend to enjoy it when I spank your sweet ass."

The mere words sent the images into your brain. The thought of it made your pussy flinch, and the Doctor laughed again though this time round it was a touch harsh sounding. "I knew you enjoyed it," he said quietly. He kissed your forehead, his lips curled into a smile as he did so. "It's alright, dear, it's only me. You can be honest. I quite like it. Oh, my, you're dripping all the way onto my wrist!"

He feigned annoyance. "Just look...look at this mess you're making."

You dared to take a look.

A small gasp choked in your throat, the sound making the Doctor chuckle. The muscles of your thighs twitched. The knee length skirt was thrown back so you were sitting bare assed on the cool desk, the skirt gathered around your hips. Your panties were stuffed in the Doctor's trouser pockets: you could see them sticking out. When had he done that?

The tendons in his wrist were flexing as he thrust his two fingers up and in, while his thumb angled upwards to continue the steady pace on your clit. The lazy rhythm which he had set was making you sweat. He didn't seem terribly bothered by the writhing around you were doing.

"Don't you like the sight of it?" The Doctor's content was evident in the way he spoke, looking at the mess with a dreamy sparkle in his eye.

He appeared visibly intoxicated as a long and loud 'mmm' escaped you. You had a difficult time remembering that the sounds were your own; you didn't always feel physically mounted in your body during your horny escapades. Sometimes the thrall of an orgasm separated your physical self from your metaphysical self like the whites and yolk of an egg. You were being gradually poured apart with every furthering motion the Doctor made. Joules of an intense pleasure rumbled inside of you. Your stomach had a slippery feeling, like a pad of hot butter on a skillet, fuzzy and warm and enticing.

Your legs jerked around, ankles flanking into the back of his thighs and effectively pulling him closer. He was trapped between your legs-just the way he liked.

Tension unfurled in your shoulders, slipping away like drops of rain on a window pain. It tingled down your back and you tilted away, Your chin raising towards the ceiling as one of your hands roughly gripped the edge of Mr Smith's desk. Anchored to the British classroom of 2005, you started to feel the edges of a smooth and velvety orgasm close in on you. It was a feeling that couldn't be physically embodied by much else than a velvet ribbon, or a warm vanilla latte, or-

"Fuck!" You whined. "It's-"

The Doctor pushed the familiar feeling forward. It was an intensity that you could only ever feel with the Doctor, with his hand or his cock or his anything. It no longer mattered that the year was 2005; the pressure on your clit felt nothing short of a pulsing burst of energy and fire. Gold fizzled in your vision. Your cunt felt heavy. Something tickled behind your bladder, the feeling making you beg. "Doctor, wait!" You urged him as you pawed at his torso. "I think I'll-"

"That's what I want," the Doctor muttered. "Don't worry, darling, I'll take good care of you. It's alright. Just keep squirming like that and let me rub your pussy to completion. Don't tire yourself-I want to feel you with my cock, too, so just relax and enjoy it. Can't you try?"

The urge to clench your walls and even the muscles around your clit was hard to fight. But when you did, it allowed an enormous wave of pleasure to drown you. You tremored and babbled a string of incoherent words. Some kind of begging, you think, or perhaps declarations of love, hatred, or anything in between. Passions had built up inside you and now they're spilling out like the waters from a broken dam. Judging by the bleary grins of content through your teary eyes, you were praising him to high ends. Likely spilling out your love for him and his hands.

Pressure started to release as the gradual high came about. It wasn't an overt transition from pleasure to climax; it was never black and white, it was a grey scale that slowly blossomed to a bright gold and silver. Weight transpired from the top of your head to your torso and then to your belly. It sank low, behind your ovaries. A heavy, swollen sensation was hanging right over you, taunting the burst of energy that would soon make a mess over the Doctor's hand and shirt. You feared the worst as you pathetically tried to wiggle your hips around. You were so close to that feeling. If you just pushed yourself a little bit more than you could reach it.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you're about to cum all over me," the Doctor murmured in a harsh tone. "That's repulsive. That's so human of you. It's disgustingly easy to make you leak with just a hand."

You buried your face into the chest of the Doctor, trying not to be too loud with the whimpers and shallow breaths you were releasing as though you were a television woman in labor.

Babbling out vowels, your entire body released a burst of warmth; like pink ribbons and fresh croissants and the tops of your thighs after you sat by a bonfire. The convulsed through you as that swollen feeling finally burst, indeed making a mess on the Doctor as you feared.

You looked down at yourself in shock. A grim sense of shame started to take over the pink-flakey-croissant-bonfires-with-Rose feeling. "I'm so sorry," you whispered, your voice a cracking piece of foil as the Doctor licked the corner of his mouth. He quickly licked his fingers clean before shaking his head. "No, no, don't apologize," he said as he quickly moved his fingers to the button of his pants. "It was quite a learning experience, I should say. I learned that you are a very cute, young, little cunt in desperate need of an older, wiser cock. I'm just going to give you what you want. You don't have anything otherwise to say. I know you don't."

You shook your head as you watched the Doctor palm himself. His bulge was prominent and you had to restrain a whimper as he pulled back the boxer briefs he wore, which you insisted on because he wanted to wear boxers, but you found boxer briefs undeniably sexy, and so he wore them; he couldn't exactly do otherwise when the Tardis was replacing his go to wardrobe with other garments--it was totally accidental the way the Tardis now listened to your opinion before his. But he couldn't deny: blood runs thicker than water. And your blood had sizzled on the heart of the beloved Tards. So yeah, sometimes the Tardis chose to play Christmas music when it was only November (according to the earth-calendar programmed into the mainframe, but that was also another story).

You pulled him down by the scruff of his neck, forcing him to kiss you as he played with himself. Your sloppy kiss was all tongue against tongue, open mouthed groans into one another as you guided his hand up and down on himself.

Now leaking precum, he smothered himself In the lubricant and thumbed the slit of his cock, a clenched-teeth hiss escaping himself as you urged him to prepare. But the Doctor likes to edge himself; he likes the discomfort of wanting to chase an orgasm, the self control it required to ignore the body's instinct.

"Come closer," he groaned against you. His forehead rested on yours. You both watched him pump his cock a few more times; your chest was rising and falling as hard as his.

He guided himself inside you, kissing your forehead as he slowly inched forward. The brief discomfort as he pushed past the curve of your walls was strictly rewritten into a song of bliss. Mint green paint, fresh croissants with oozing chocolate, an open campsite by the sizzling fire.

He hunched over your little figure; he was completely towering atop you, the size of a dire wolf pinning a rabbit against his own torso. He grunted as he pulled himself out only to slam his way back in, the motion making you feel full and heavy.

He worked his hips to thrust in and out of you, pulling himself practically to the tip each time. His hand was tending to your clit as he moved. Each touch on your clit felt like torture, in the best sense. You already felt swollen and every touch was amplified. The starts of a new orgasm made you tired and shudder, your mouth desperate for water as it worked its way through your body.

"You're so small," the Doctor huffed through a laugh as your figure jerked with each thrust. You were trapped against his torso, feeling the doubly beat of his hearts pounding as he plowed in and out of you. "So pliable," he added as he groped the side of your thigh exposed by the wrinkled fabric of your skirt. "So hot and tight while I have my way with you. You couldn't help yourself. You just had to be fucked right now, just like this. Always needing my attention, always, always. I never thought you'd be so bratty in public! I like it."

"Stop talking," you groaned. "That's all you ever do. Talk, talk, talk. I think you like that, more."

The Doctor gripped your chin, slowing his movements down. His hand skittered away from your clit but you were quick to pin it in place. You pushed one of your fingers inside of his mouth, watching him pucker his lips around the digit and sucking. His thick eyelashes fluttered before he jerked his head back. "Not your turn, princess," he sneered. "I'm in charge right now."

"You like when I'm in charge, too," you retorted. "You could just give up, you know."

The Doctor once again groped at you, squeezing hard on your pebbled nipples with a growl of warning. "Not the time," he told you with a rough thrust up. It made you gasp and heel over as the spotlight of sudden pleasure shone over you; the Doctor smirked as he carefully weened his way back into a quicker pace than he had been previously going at. "Don't you dare stop," you pleaded as you gripped him by the collar of his button down. "Or you're in for a load of trouble when we get home." The Doctor's brown eyes twinkled at the idea: home on the Tardis, being straddled and used by you, it sounded like a marvelous plan.

"I'm not the one who's about to get a load," the Doctor said, grinning at the gross slang, but he was unable to really care because your cheeks had tears dripping down them. "Can't wait to see how full you become. I'll be dripping down your legs the rest of the day."

"Shut up," you whimpered as you tilted your head back.

Honestly speaking you quite enjoyed his babbling chit chat. He really did like to hear himself talk. You liked it as well.

"Make me."

You two pressed your mouths into a rough mold, your tongues slithering over tips and teeth. Your arms wrapped over the back of his neck, locking him in place. His chuckles dripped down your throat as he vocalized his own pleasure. Your breathing hastened. Panting like a dog in the summer heat, you were kissing him back as if it were a fight for your life. You clenched all your body into a rigid stake as the peak of the orgasm finally prodded into your cunt. The Doctor's hands pressed into your hips and legs, his thumbs rubbing calming circles into you as he moaned. He was much more accepting of the pleasure wave as it rode through him.

Hiccuping whimpers fluttered into the Doctor's mouth as your slick, wet released. The feeling made the Doctor groan, loud and strong as he finally released the gates of his own seed. He grunted as he made sloppy thrusts; cum mixed and squeezed out of you like the lemon custard in a powdered donut, a rare, sweet, tart taste that made your eyes water.

Your mouths pulled apart with a loud smack. You both looked down at the mess. He pumped in and out a few times, hissing as you suckled a bite on the underside of his jaw. You cried out a curse as he swiftly pulled out and gripped his cock, the limb still half hard. He pushed the tip of himself against your clit, making a harsh circle so your bodies both shuddered. "Too much," he said between clenched teeth. He released a breath as final spurts of his seed painted on the lips of your pussy.

The strain on his chest eased.

The Doctor swayed forward. His face lulled into a lazy grin, tucking itself within the crook of your neck. Carefully exhaling your last deep breath, you slid back so you were laying face up, looking at the ceiling as the Doctor remained curled atop you. He hummed with content, rubbing his hand over the soft skin of your pelvis. Your skirt was still flipped up; his pants were unbuttoned.

Panting. The fluorescent lights seemed so homely in the aftershocks of this feeling. Left over in your core was the tingling of the orgasmic pain on your clit, now soft and bruised, but for good reason.

"I really think there's something strange going on," you mentioned after a few minutes of calm silence. You softly scratched his scalp, combing through his soft hair while he purred at the feeling, reminding you of a cat. "This school seems off."

"I'm tired," the Doctor said. "Work seems boring, now."

"It's life or death," you pointed out.

"Is it?"

"You're just fucked out, aren't you?" you pointed out again but with a laugh this time.

"Yeah, you're probably right...probably."

"I'm always right," you informed him. "The sooner you realize that, the easier your life will be."

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funnycreatortimetravel · 9 months ago

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Small rant about Sans' character that no one is ever going to read and is probably kind of inaccurate, but I'm going to scream into the void nonetheless because why the hell not and I'm kind of bored.

I feel like the concept of Sans as a whole has been so utterly gutted by the fandom and not in the way you'd think. Not because of the AUs which are all so oddly Sans-focused (but at least we have Underverse which is actually pretty good) but in the sense of the people who claim to "actually understand Sans canonically" and "try to stay as canon as possible" while also equally missing the point sort of. Hence, why we have this long and overplayed image I'm sure everyone has seen a billion times:

If I could lay some groundwork down, Undertale came out in 2015, nearly a decade ago. The internet was a different time and place then and fandom creativity reached new peaks that no one had ever seen before, and as a result, a lot of Undertale was exaggerated, changed, cut up, and then put back together. Why? Because in all honesty, Undertale was a really simple game with a simple premise. Sure there were bits and pieces scattered throughout, parts like who Gaster was, who Chara was when they were alive, who Sans is in general; all the typical fandom theory shenanigans we've come to expect in the recent years. And in that excitement, Sans became the staple of Undertale pretty much, or at least everything it represented. This macabre, yet adorably misleading game with funny moments and interesting think pieces that people are still speculating about. That's pretty much the basis of Sans. So I get why Sans became the quintessential poster child for such a subversively ambitious game. I get why, then, people try to showcase Sans as this badass God character who knows and remembers all of resets and cries over Papyrus and is just an edge lord in general. It doesn't mean it's accurate in the slightest, but I get the idea of it nonetheless. In the absence of content, and there's a lot of it in Undertale, (I mean, it took me 4 hours to 100% it in the Pacifist and Neutral Routes, and 5 hours to beat Genocide, including the times it took me to beat Undyne because she thoroughly kicked my ass and Sans as well) the fans filled those gaps with what they saw fit and what they saw fit was so wide and diverse that the gap overflowed and the game pretty much became unrecognizable.

And I (except for the truly questionable and gross stuff, you know what I'm talking about) love the fandom for that, I truly do. Just the sheer number of comics, spin-off games, AUs, art, and fanfiction that answered every question I had and more was and is impressive, but even so, there's only so much that can be done with the context Undertale provides us before the content gets...stale. Hence my point on why Sans' character was so exaggerated is because Undertale as a whole had been exaggerated and oversaturated and overplayed and generally...not what the game or Sans was originally. But that was peak 2016-2019, though, a few years ago. And the interpretations and eras, like everything, have changed.

Now back to my actual point. It's now 2024. The fandom has noticeably slowed down. All of the AUs and theories and fanfictions that were popular have either been forgotten about over the years, randomly rediscovered or still ongoing, or just abandoned entirely. The game has been pretty much combed through until every file has been cracked, every document leaked, and every secret discovered. It's like a picked over turkey at this point and a lot of the old creators have indeed left behind the game in pursuit of newer things, which is understandable. It's not the center of attention it once was and in that wake, we don't really have a lot of the same pillars in the Undertale community that we used to. And in this transformed community, we have the left over children, now young adults and teenagers, to pick up the pieces. And in that, Sans' character, as well as Undertale itself, has again, been reformed.

That was a lot of words. But I hope I at least set the center stage. My issue, pretty much, is that the leftover fans deem themselves as "above the cringe" the old fandom left behind, which, is fair enough. And in doing so, a lot of the foundation of the 2016-2019 Undertale fandom was kind of overwritten. No, now Sans is no longer this edgy, overpowered God figure ready to right the wrongs of the player, no, now he's this apathetic guy who doesn't care about anyone, including himself, and is only powerful because he cheated. And to be fair, I see some merit in this interpretation. Sans is in fact, a pretty morally ambiguous guy. He doesn't even attempt to stop the player during the genocide route until there's nothing left. He threatens the player on the pacifist route even when we pose no threat. He makes so many allusions about himself not caring about anything. So I get it. Everyone is tired of everything Sans-related. I was too at one point. But in trying to counteract this fanon interpretation of Sans, I feel like this new one is also semi-inaccurate. This new interpretation of Sans is meant to be seen as "mature" and "not cringe" when in fact, Undertale is and always will be sort of cringe. And that's OK! That's why I and others love the game so much, because it's not afraid of being anything other than what it is and what it claimed to be. It had a story in mind that it wanted to tell and it did so unabashedly. The need to separate Undertale and Sans itself from the cringe is so pointless and almost a little juvenile. And imo, even ruins the character of Sans himself.

Sans does care about Papyrus, so so so much. He reads him bedtime stories. He plays along with his illusions of grandeur. He calls out the player when he's killed, despite Sans having to remain objective as a judge. I feel like Sans not intervening in Papyrus' death isn't because he doesn't care, it's because his entire job is to act as a judge and in a position where he's mostly neutral. He knows the player has powers to redo and undo things, so thus, he gives us room to make those choices, for better or worse. He's like, the anti-toriel. He refuses to hold your hand. He tells YOU to make the right choice, and by you, I mean the player. And in that sense, I feel like that's not something a completely apathetic guy would do. Someone like that wouldn't even see the point of choices, of having an option. Someone like that wouldn't care about getting out of bed in the morning, getting several jobs, or telling a person with higher power to just engage with your brother.

Like come on, don't say he doesn't put effort into anything, like he went out of his way to make sure Pap's Holiday party went perfect. He's constantly going above and beyond for his brother.

Sans has emotions and they're so complex and so well-written, but I feel like this counter-cringe culture of the fandom wants him to be this guy who's either too depressed or too lazy to engage with others, or someone who would simply shrug off the death of loved ones when we have proof that Sans does indeed try hard for Papyrus in the ending where everyone dies but his brother. It's an "oh shit" sort of moment when he realizes that Papyrus is the only person he has left and thus, he puts in the effort to be better for him. It's not that he doesn't care or see the point, he's just kind of numb at this point. If Papyrus dies in the neutral routes, you don't see Sans again until the judgment hall and he'll call you a dirty brother killer and tell you to go to hell. That's something someone who at least cares a little would do. He's not above insulting the player and he's not above getting pissed. I've never really seen him as a, "well that's that then," character when it comes to Papyrus dying, for me, it's always been, "I'm angry, but I can maintain my composure and still do what I have to do."

Even in the genocide routes, Sans wants to give up and do nothing. He wants to let himself die without much thought. But he knows that he has to stand between you and oblivion. It's another, "Oh shit" moment, but in the opposite way. He knows he's gonna die. But he still has hope. Not necessarily that you'll be a good person, but that you can try another way and make better choices. He embodies the same mentality Papyrus did at the beginning of the run, believing there's a better chance for another future where everyone can be happy.

Sans isn't a nihilist, not all the way. There's still a chance, still a part of him that has hope for everything, regardless of the route. And should the Pacifist route be completed, you'll see that he's genuinely happy. He DOES care, or at least he's beginning to know that caring about things is ok and healthy even.

Ex 1: If you go to Sans' lab after completing a True Pacifist Route, you get this bit of dialog:

Ex 2: Sans and Papyrus talking about a Christmas party they had on the Newsletter of the 5th Anniversary of Undertale.

The strongest, yet most complex example of this that we see is that he upholds his promise with Toriel and will continue to do so until the genocide route at the very end because he wants to at least give us, the player, a chance. And even if it was a cop-out for being lazy, I believe that Sans legitimately believes there's a chance for us to turn around and be a better person, or at the very least, make better choices. We know that Sans is a person who doesn't like making promises at all, and even though he said that his threatening to kill Frisk is a joke, had he not made that promise to Toriel, I can't 100% say that he still wouldn't intervened in the genocide and neutral routes.

And if you think about it, Sans upholding that promise just makes me question him even more. Like, even if you kill his brother, so long as you don't kill everyone, he won't kill you just because of that. He sticks to his promise and his morals so much, even if it costs him everything because well, what type of judge would he be if he didn't stick to his moral code?

"If you have some special power, don't you think it's your responsibility to do the right thing?"

And by that logic, if he made a promise with someone, don't you think he'd feel he'd have the responsibility to uphold it?

We also know that he makes an effort to give us updates on the Underground after we leave in the neutral routes because he still wants us to know, at least, the consequences of our actions, so it's not like he's just lazily letting us get away with anything with do (even if he does physically.) He still holds our actions above our heads. He still keeps his promise. He still knows that we can make a better outcome. And if that doesn't say anything about him, I don't know what does.

Even in the neutral route endings where things are objectively going terribly for the monsters with Frisk killing Asgore and taking the souls to leave the barrier, Sans still never gives up. Sans, of all people.

And sure, Sans isn't a saint, not by a long shot, but he does have some moral weight in the long run, and by playing the part of a judge, he has a certain level of disattachment that's necessary when it comes to doing his job. Nowadays, I don't see the "fanon" sans that everyone loves to rag on, the one that's overly emotional and jarringly out of character, more so, I see everyone ragging on that interpretation, and then coming up with an equally inaccurate interpretation of Sans just not giving a shit and letting Frisk get away with everything just because he's "not emotional and only wants to be lazy, blah, blah, blah, nihilism, existentialism, it's more canonically accurate, unlike that CRINGE FANON SANS!" /or being a total unserious prankster with no other personality traits, and that's equally as jarring for me.

So in conclusion, I feel like "Fanon" Sans, the one where he's breaking down and sobbing over Papyrus and holding his scarf is just as inaccurate as the "more canon one" where he's apathetic and simply just not caring about his death, or at the very best, says "it is what it is." Sans is a character whose emotions aren't apparent, but he still does care in his weird philosophical way. He loves Papyrus and genuinely thinks he's cool. He's a jokester character who loves a good laugh and being laid back. He doesn't like putting in effort, but he will if he has to. He wants the player to make good choices, so he generally tries to stay out of the way to give us that freedom. Not because he knows we're gonna kill Papyrus, but because he knows we have greater power and wants us to use it to do the morally right thing. He isn't above doing morally grey things either, like threatening to kill Frisk in case they pose a threat to monster kind, but I believe even then, his hesitation to just accept a human in the underground is somewhat understandable given the oppressive tension between humans and monsters. Additionally, he does put in effort when it comes to caring about monsters other than Papyrus, Toriel, and even Alphys and Asgore, he cares about them all: (it's implied that he feeds the amalgamates in Alphy's old lab as proven by the same dog food we see in the lab being in Sans' house and Alphys even calls him a good guy because he helps her in the aborted genocide route ending, him telling jokes to Toriel and genuinely trying to bring some joy in her life even though she's a stranger and doesn't have an obligation to, even staying with her in the Ruins after she's dethroned in the Queen Undyne ending, him acting as the judge before Asgore and even being in such an important position requires you to have a solid sense of morality and conviction, his respect for Undyne as a warrior/leader depending on the ending and in the Undertale Newsletter, he makes an effort to score a goal for his team in Hocky, and Undyne of all people seems proud of him, and pretty much everything that has to do with Papyrus he's at the very least involved or interested in.)

My words don't have a lot of merit. I'm simply saying how I interpret things. But as a big sister, I see Sans as a good big brother who's not too involved, but also deeply cares about his younger brother and his friends. I get that stoicism and being "logical" and "cold" is the new trend and whatnot with all these edits of badass characters and longing for a time when everything was less...emotional, but in doing that, it shuts a lot of discussion about Sans as a person and his complex emotions as a whole. I feel like it's too difficult and kind of silly to chalk him up as either one or the other. I feel like there's a nice middle ground between the "cringe" fanon sans and the "cool, apathetic" canon sans that a lot of fans either go one or the other on. Anyway, that's about it for my rant. It's kind of nonsensical and a little hard to follow, but I hope I was able to get my thoughts across nonetheless.

I guess it was a big rant after all. Oh well. It is what it is.

#sans #undertale sans #undertale #deltarune #papyrus undertale #sans character discussion #undertale deltarune

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echthr0s · 7 months ago

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hey! thanks for the recs, will give them a tryヽ(✿ﾟ▽ﾟ)ノI did read Cows many moons ago, but may be time to revisit...

that being said, where are the good fucked-up books

#that was indeed a truly Fucked Up book in the full sense of the word. gotta hand it to stokoe for that. he was not playin 👌🏿#i appreciated that it was kind of esoteric too. a lot of splatterpunk style books are really straightforward which is fine!#but i also like a lil weird prose‚ a lil narrative quirkiness with my ultraviolent gore and gross psychosexuality

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bug-in-a-cage · 2 months ago

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at a top level, i don't have an issue with the concept of "sfw g/t" (though i'm not sure how much of this stuff can really be considered "safe for work" - it certainly wouldn't be safe in my workplace) but...it's kinda weird and othering when i see people from that sub-community talk like "sexualising giants" is something shameful and weird and disgusting, and that having a non-kinky interest in relationship dynamics between giants and tinies is, somehow, more "pure" than thinking giant or tiny people are hot.

like, fine, being sex-repulsed is valid, it's possible to have a fascination with size tropes that is not kinky, or is kink adjacent. i myself am on the ace spectrum and i understand the complexity that brings to relationships, both with others and with your own sexual and romantic orientation.

but uhhh.

it's kind of...weird to see people imply that if you do get off to the idea of giants or tinies, that you're somehow a disgusting pervert with an adolescent libido who is intruding while The Adults Are Talking.

i'm not saying that people should be allowed to sexualise characters explicitly labelled as sfw g/t, not at all. boundaries are important and should be respected.

but what i am saying is that size spaces will inevitably contain people, like myself, who think giants are hot, and if you are repulsed by that in general, your response should not be to think of those people as sex-crazed intruders who don't Truly Appreciate size.

sexuality is not inherently bad nor good. it just is. it is another mode of being. and indeed there are people who like size solely as a sexual fantasy and have absolutely no interest in romantic or platonic g/t relationships. those people are not wrong to feel that way about size.

it is true that there are many size kinksters, pretty much universally heterosexual men, that are genuinely regressive in their views on women in kink spaces, and who regard giantesses largely as dispensers of orgasms rather than thinking and feeling human beings.

but that does not describe all people who have a size kink. it doesn't describe me or any size kinksters i associate with. to paint all people who like size tropes chiefly as a sex thing as afflicted slaves to passion is, at the end of the day, just reproducing 19th-century Protestant sexual repression, where sexuality is seen as something aberrant that must be avoided or controlled to remain Pure rather than, you know, just another biological impulse, like eating or shitting.

it's fine to find sexuality distasteful and unpleasant and want to avoid it. it's not fine to talk about the people who do have kinky fantasies like they are disgusting and gross.

we are all human beings and it takes all sorts to make a world. it's fine to say "i don't get this or like it, but i recognise that others might feel differently" and then just...walk away.

#kink talk #giant/tiny #giantess #size k!nk #sizetumblr #size difference #size tumblr #microphilia #shrink #micro #macro/micro #nsft g/t #text #text post #rant post #rant incoming

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frogchiro · 2 years ago

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I just finished the world quest with Jeht and Azariq and please I'm in love with the Stone Enchanter model. I need him to pin me down and crush me istg

If this makes you uncomfortable feel free to ignore it, but I'm imagining MC being this sheltered Rainforest scholar hiring a group of Eremites to escort her on a mission, only for the weather to turn bad and oh we all have to hunker down for an extended period of time and she's worried that the Eremites will leave once the money runs out but they're just taking the opportunity to get close to their little lady.

Alternatively, doctor!MC who is the primary medic in the camp and she's always there to take care of everyone. What do you mean that Daythunder tripped face first into her tits on purpose? Can't you see that he's hurt??? Yes he needs to squeeze her hips, it's for balance! Honestly 🙄

Alternatively alternatively, barmaid!MC who serves a certain group of Eremites and she's theirs alone. No one else touches her except them, and they love playing with her regardless of who else is looking. Groping her tits when she bends down to pour drinks, grabbing her ass when she turns around, biting her nipple through the sheer fabric of her top if she doesn't escape fast enough etc. (I feel like you wrote this before? I think)

I really just let my hands run away from me adfhk I hope you're doing well! 🌺

darling, I am so incredibly normal about this you have no idea i'm currently biting at the bars of my enclosure

also this turned out way longer than I intended but the brainrot was real for this one ;; the barmaid!reader hc turned out to be the longest and the smuttiest of them all but in my defense it was my absolute favorite one to write and I'm seriously asking begging you guys to please indulge me and send me all your possible barmaid!reader thots (different men, eremites, aus', whatever comes to your mind ;;)

fem!reader, nsfw, reader is implied to be chubby/curvy, LOTS of perviness and big gross pervy men <3

Rainforest Scholar!Reader who hired a group of Eremites because of an important study needing to be conducted near the dangerous territory of the Apam Woods which is known to be inhabited by dangerous fungi and other possibly hostile creatures, not to mention the ever-changing weather environment. For someone who has little-to-no combat training it's basically a suicide mission so you did the next best thing and hired a group of Eremite mercenaries, four big and scary looking men with weapons seemingly bigger than you, wild grins full of sharp teeth and smug voices telling you "It's gonna be okay Little Lady, we've got this".

Well, turned out no one 'got this'. Dear Gods no one got this. The whole journey ended up in a near disaster with a sudden wild storm striking the woods in the middle of studying a group of fungi not only making them hostile and attacking you but also during your and the mercenaries' escape and frantic search for a reletively safe place to wait out the storm you managed to slip and fall straight into a large puddle of water effectively drenching you and ruining your travel clothes.

Although you truly noticed this major detail only after holing up in some beat up shack left to rot in the forest when the cold finally started to seep into your bones. One of the men, Daythunder you believe others called him, pointed out your violent shivering making all the men in the group turn towards you with slight concern on their masked faces.

And indeed you were shivering like a scared puppy, wet clothes clinging at your form, combined with the howling wind making it almost unbearable and the small fire they managed to start did little to keep you warm.

"You need to get outta these clothes Little Lady or you'll catch your death here", a slightly smaller man of the group gruffly said and vaguely motioned towards your figure. You flushed slightly and looked down bashfully, 'Little Lady' they called you, a nickname meant to tease you at first but over the long days of your journey turned into some sort of endearment from the men towards you.

Your thoughts of embarrassment were quickly thrown away by another wave of unpleasant shivers due to your drenched state. You were well aware that if you didn't do something soon, you'd catch pneumonia and only gods know how long you'll be stuck here in the middle of nowhere with a raging storm outside. The only logical thing to do was to strip, let your clothes dry and get warm by the fire but you were surrounded by all these big men and while you trusted them to not make any unwanted moves, it was still a mortifying thought to be almost naked in such a small space among them.

However, even these thought were dissipated quickly enough when Daythunder gently lifted your chin with his finger, making your heart flutter with warmth and look up at his handsome masked face and listen to him quietly murmur that they'll keep you warm and make sure no danger will come for you, please Little Lady.

And so before long you were stripped down to your underwear, sitting in the warm lap of the large blond man, his beautiful tanned skin hot under your slowly warming body as his sturdy arms wrapped around you. Actually, the men surrounded you with their big bodies in a sort of cuddle pile, warming up not only your body but also your heart and lower belly, the tingling sensation only amplifying when you felt the sudden touch of warm, calloused fingers of Daythunder on your knees, slowly traveling up your thighs and massaging along the tired muscles making you let out an embarrassingly pleasured moan that caught the attention of all the other men, making them grin wildly again.

"Maybe being stuck here for a little longer won't hurt-" you thought to yourself before getting interrupted by ravenous hot lips of one of the men and letting out another pleased hum as you felt other big calloused hands join the others on your soft body.

Medic!Reader who is the resident healer of the tribe, and while it might be considered relatively small, her hands are almost always busy due to the group being made up by men who are considered to be hunters/mercenaries; always on the move, rarely setting camp for more than a week. Plus, life on the desert can't be considered an easy one, food and water rations are scarce, danger is common here and if you're inexperienced with this kind of environment or travels it's best if you just stay in a village or travel in a larger group.

And then there is little ol' you, a real delight to the men of the tribe, kept like the biggest treasure in the camp. Always cherished and spoiled with the best cuts of meat during meal time, gifted the softest and most delicate silks from their 'adventures', not to mention all the hot, reverent, hungry touches to your skin as they slowly mouth at the expanse of your naked, glistening bosom.

Oh yes, the life of the 'Treasure of the tribe' is good, very good even, but first and foremost you are a trained, skilled healer, your skills being utilized unfortunately almost everyday as your men just seem to not be able to keep out of danger if even for a day and you hate seeing your boys hurt.

After returning from yet another successful hunting trip all the returning men loudly announcing their arrival; loud, boisterous laughs and cheerful bellows can be heard from the enterance to the camp. You sighed deeply although a small smile made its way onto your face, judging from the loud joyous commotion outside it was a successful hunt and probably no permanent damage was done but it still meant looking after the men, cleaning and stitching cuts, applying cooling salves and balms and bandaging smaller wounds. While you were undoubtedly proud of your buys you swear that their pride and want for showing off will drive them into an early grave.

Making a last check-up on the stacked medical equipment you gathered, you got up and walked out into the blazing sun of the desert, although the scalding hot temperature slowly cooling down into a pleasant warmth with the incoming sunset.

Your enterance was met with loud greetings and whoops, the large men showing off their hunted prey, a large furred beast with claws the size of your fingers. While you definitely appreciated the sentiment and admired their strength and prowess in battle to be able to take down such a creature, you were more worried about the blood staining Daythunder's clothes. Making him sit on an wooden stump you quickly got to work as he seemed to be hurt the most; while definitely nowhere near deadly, that cut on his chest worried you.

Out of all the things you learned as a healer of a tribe full of men is that they're surprisingly childish and clingy, especially when hurt. The second he heavily sat down, Daythunder immediately grabbed onto your full hips and dragged you close to him so that no space can be between your bodies and with a heavy sigh the big tanned man shoved his face right into your tits, for the lack of better wording.

All you could do is sigh heavily, comb your hand through his braided blond hair and coo at him. The insistent touches more than familiar and no more embarrassing you, more like making a small pleasant flutter bloom in your belly as you gave the man a bit more time watching him nose along your barely clothed breasts and nuzzling against you much like a big cat.

What you didn't see, so preoccupied with Daythunder nuzzled deep into you, are the former joyful faces of the other men sour with ugly jealousy. Why weren't it them you were paying attention? They just slayed a beast too! But don't you worry pretty little Treasure, as soon as you finish with that big oaf they'll have their turn with you too.

Who would have guessed that Eremites could be so jealous~?

And now for the grande finale and my personal favorite, Barmaid!Reader!! Working as a barmaid at the only tavern in Caravan Ribat is one hell of a busy job. Living and working in a place that is literally in the middle of nowhere and simultaneously always busy with passing by merchants, mercenaries, travelers and adventurers alike can be definitely often hectic and at times even messy but it has its perks! Being able to listen to various stories, some of them sounding almost like a fairytale with how whimsical and fantastic they sound and yet they are all true is definitely one of those perks.

Another perk (definitely the best) is a particular group of Eremite men who seem to frequent Caravan Ribat, specifically the tavern you work at is their target. Not only being regulars, but also knowing them more...intimately, they are a delight to be around even with their burning jealousy and possessiveness; perhaps even more so with it.

Almost always you hear them before you see them, their loud talk among each other, deep booming voices almost reverberating through the local and just as you serve a patron their meal they enter in all their glory. Even with the crimson bandanas covering their eyes you can feel their eyes on you, burning with lust and want for their pretty little barmaid.

Greeting them with a warm smile and a warmth to your cheeks you tell them to sit down at their usual table (which by now is almost reserved only for them, no one dares to sit where they always touch down). Luckily it's a relatively slow night; all the patrons are already seated and busy either talking among each other or drinking their worries away in a bottle of ale of fire water.

With an almost jump in your step you quickly walk up to the table with the Eremites, their covered eyes never leaving your curvy figure and when you finally stand before them you can almost hear their deep growls of delight and ravenous apetite for more than a regular meal.

Deciding on being cheeky today and wanting to tease them a little, treat them as if their just another regular customers. You pull out a small paper and pencil from behind your belt and ask these 'gentlemen' for their order. They seem to catch on immediately, their grins widening, licking over their sharp canines as they relax and spread their thick muscled thighs wide open lounging around, deep gruff voices laced with lust listing of their order.

As you're diligently jot down their choices on the slip of paper, a small smile appears on your face as you feel the strong arm of Stone Enchanter slip around your middle and pull you closer to him, his enormous build making your stomach on level with his face even when he's seated, his big and rough with callouses hand caressing and grabbing onto your full hips, snapping the material of your skirt (the long material obscuring only your intimates and ass while exposing your thighs, you know this cut drives them crazy) against your hips and they laugh loudly as you take in a quick quiet breath, followed by the gentle scrape of teeth on your waist as the large man starts mouthing at your skin and to be honest you're quite embarrassed by how quickly this simple touch can get you wet.

But with this group you're so used to this that when they don't visit for a longer period of time you actually long for it. They are always like this; loud and boisterous, clingy, unapologetic and absolutely shameless with their touches and so so possessive over you.

You barely manage to write down their order with a small 'be right back sirs' when suddenly a swift swat to your bottom is delivered and the table erupts in laughs and jeers at Sunfrost that he managed to get you. It's even worse when you get back and start setting their cups down, when the hot touches and gropes come.

Your low cut top is made of a light material, almost sheer and you almost always forgo wearing a bra due to the almost unbearable heat due to the closeness to the desert and the stuffy inside of the tavern doesn't help, and you can be sure that these men take full advantage of it.

Large scarred hands grope your tits the second you bend down to pour their drinks and you almost spill it when they pull down the loose neckline and the mouthing at your waist and hips starts again.

Suddenly, you let out a small shrill cry as you're suddenly hoisted into the lap of Stone Enchanter and moan loudly at the feeling of hot lips trying to mouth at your nipples through your top, the straps falling from your shoulders from all the sudden movement much to the delight of the men at the table.

The loud atmosphere of the lively tavern concealing the lustful act, all the other patrons are either so deep into laughing with their companions or way too drunk to even look your way, but even if there are some curious eyes looking at your figure, you are way too deep into the hot, fuzzy headspace to care.

The dark skinned man holding you made you suddenly straddle him and you flush even deeper at the feeling of his hard cock grinding up against your barely clothed pussy and you can't help but moan helplessly and grab at his dark braids to pull him closer to your nipple which he's still insistently mouthing at, the scrape of his sharp teeth causing you to let out a delightful moan which only seemed to spur the turned on men further on.

This was definitely going to be a long, long night~

#kin speaks #asks #interactions #JESUS FINALLY I'M READY #this took me like 2.5h to write but it was a true delight ;;#thank you so much for the food nonnie <3 #now barmaid reader is rotting my brain >:(#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #eremites x reader

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satansapostle6 · 6 months ago

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Everything But Time | Fred Weasley

Fred Weasley never thought he’d fall for a Slytherin girl. Nathalie Adams never thought she’d fall for the class clown.

Warning: Mature themes/language. Violence. Sexual content.

Chapter One: Wrapped Around Her Finger

She was everything. The way she walked, and the way she talked, and the way her hair fell effortlessly over her shoulders was something of a marvel. Only, Fred Weasley didn’t think so, or so he said.

Fred Weasley was a proud Gryffindor; he never in a million years would have betrayed the honor of his House by consorting with a rival Slytherin. It was just out of the question. No matter what all the other boys in his year said, and no matter how short her skirts got, he remained vigilant and kept his unspoken promise to himself never to give her the time of day, even if he had no reason to suspect Nathalie Adams even wanted it.

“Look at her,” Fred’s younger sister, Ginny Weasley, said almost spitefully at dinner one night early on in his sixth year. “You can’t even tell her apart from one of the Beauxbatons girls. With her shiny hair, and perfect nails, and rosy cheeks…”

Everyone sitting with them at the Gryffindor table gave her a strange look as she blushed aggressively and redirected her focus to her plate in silence.

“She is quite the vision,” George Weasley, Fred’s twin, remarked dreamily. “Isn’t she, Ronniekins?”

Ron Weasley, who was a year older than Ginny, also grew a bright shade of pink, scowling at his brother.

“Why are you asking me?” he muttered defensively.

“Because you’re the one who drooled into your soup staring at her,” Fred replied, completely matter-of-fact.

“I did not!”

“Did too,” Harry Potter checked him.

“What about you, Harry?” Fred cocked his head at Ron’s best friend. “What are your thoughts on the topic of Nathalie Adams?” he said her name with a mocking lilt to it.

“I… hardly know her,” Harry responded reasonably.

Ginny just rolled her eyes at his innocence.

“Whether you know her isn’t the question, it’s whether you’d like to,” George explained with a mischievous grin.

“You boys are gross,” Ginny said disapprovingly.

“So gross,” Hermione Granger, Ron and Harry’s other respective best friend, agreed.

“Well…”

Harry thought for a minute.

“She’s two grades above us,” he concluded.

“Cho’s one grade above us,” Ron teased him.

Once again, Ginny rolled her eyes at the mention of Cho Chang, the girl Harry was too afraid to openly ask out.

“It’s alright, you know, Harry,” Fred told him wisely, “Liking older women. They’re usually more experienced, and that’s never a bad thing. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Hermione shook her head, mortified as Ginny looked at the two of them sharply. “You know, people are trying to eat here?”

“Trust me, so am I,” Fred quipped, earning a clap on the back from George and laughs from Harry and Ron, as well as Lee Jordan.

“So, Harry,” Ron wondered. “What are your thoughts on the blonde Slytherin?”

“Erm…”

He tried to collect his thoughts as he glanced over at the Slytherin table, searching for Nathalie Adams. He eventually found her, sitting with her friends not too far from Pansy Parkinson and the other popular Slytherin girls in their year at Hogwarts. He definitely saw her appeal; she had long whitish hair, and porcelain skin that might as well have been made of clouds, and not to mention, she was tall and graceful. She truly did look just like one of the French girls from Beauxbatons.

“She’s… nice,” Harry tried to compliment her chivalrously, knowing that Ginny Weasley was listening expectantly.

“Nice, indeed,” George agreed, much to his twin’s disappointment. “She could slap me across the face, and I’d thank her.”

“I think that’s just a ‘you’ problem, Georgie,” Lee stated, earning hearty laughs from the group.

*****

Nathalie Addams had everything a sixteen year-old girl could want; she came from a reputable family and maintained excellent grades. She was beautiful, and it certainly did not go unnoticed. To the Slytherin boys, she was the epitome of beauty, and class. Draco Malfoy, for one, had made plenty of jokes to his fellow Slytherin boys about telling his father that he wanted her for his birthday.

As a sixth-year, Nathalie Adams had become easily one of the most talked-about girls at Hogwarts, even amongst the other Houses. Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, even Gryffindor. It didn’t matter; they all believed her to be the standard.

Equally popular among Hogwarts students was a seventh-year Hufflepuff, Cedric Diggory, Hogwarts’ resident pretty boy. Cedric was very much a Hufflepuff; although he had his talents, he was most easily recognized for his good looks and his excellent performance as Seeker on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team.

He was quite popular amongst the boys and girls alike, and although he could have chosen just about any of the girls at Hogwarts, which wasn’t really an understatement, he didn’t find himself particularly in the mood to play the field in his last year at Hogwarts. Cedric Diggory was much more the kind of person to seek out one girl in particular, and in the first few weeks of his seventh year, he was beginning to feel that Nathalie Adams could very well be that girl.

Of course, he had never spoken to her before. He had never actually met Nathalie Adams, and only knew her from watching long successions of people in the halls. He hadn’t even known her name until he had asked a friend of his the year before. From then on, Cedric was determined to speak to her, and get to know her. Cedric Diggory was a very driven young man, the kind of person who knew where he saw himself in five, ten, fifteen years.

Fifteen or so years in the future, Cedric saw himself comfortable and successful with a stable career, and having at least one child to love and nurture. And in this dream of his, he could see the mother of that child being Nathalie Adams.

“Are you going to talk to her, mate?” William Albert snapped him out of his trance as they completed their Transfiguration worksheets.

“Yeah, soon,” Cedric said in a hushed voice, mortified as he looked around them to make sure no one had heard.

In the past half hour, he had only written his name and the answers to two questions on his piece of parchment; he was too distracted by Nathalie and her long blonde hair on the other side of the aisle.

“Well, you’d better get on with it, then” his friend advised him. “Before Weasley beats you to it.”

Cedric looked across the room in a panic. Sure enough, there was his friend Fred Weasley, talking to Nathalie as he sat behind her. He muttered a curse under his breath, unable to hear or make out what they were saying.

“Can you stop?” Nathalie stared back at the long-haired Weasley twins. “You’re getting my parchment wet.”

Due to the disruption that the three of them had been causing, Professor McGonall had sat Lee Jordan in front of Nathalie, separating him from the twins. Naturally, this did not stop the twins from firing the Water-Making spell at him every time the professor’s back was turned. And naturally, their aim was a bit hit or miss.

“My apologies,” Fred Weasley said smoothly, offering a cocky smile as his eyes started to wander. “Perhaps I could make it up to you?”

“You could make it up to me by shutting the fuck up,” she stared angrily.

“That’s not very nice,” Fred pouted, turning to his brother. “Was it, George?”

“Indeed, it wasn’t,” George Weasley instigated.

“And why would I be worried about being nice to you?” she raised an eyebrow.

“I could make it worth your while,” Fred said softly, his flirting obscenely obvious.

“In your dreams, Weasley.”

“Oh, if only you knew,” he whispered with a playful smile.

Nathalie just rolled her eyes, turning back around in her seat as the twins just grinned at one another. Nathalie’s unmatched looks put her at the very top of the social hierarchy, and she knew how to take advantage of it. Everyone wanted her, whether it was as a friend, or more. Speaking to her was a privilege in high demand, and she knew not to oversaturate the market.

Even Cedric Diggory, who was one of the few boys at school who was actually in her league, was reduced to a hopeful nobody when it came to her.

“Ced. You need to ask Nathalie out before someone beats you to it,” William urged his best friend as they walked through the halls, approaching the courtyard where Nathalie and her friends were.

“I’m sure three people have already asked her out since class ended,” Cedric remarked.

“Before she says yes to someone,” William corrected himself.

“Well, what do you suggest I say to her, then?” Cedric questioned.

“I don’t know,” William admitted. “Just walk up to her, and ask her out.”

“Oh, is that all?”

Cedric’s voice was dripping with sarcasm.

“You’re a Triwizard Champion,” William rationalized, “There’s no way she’ll say no.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Cedric sighted.

“To a Slytherin girl?” William pointed out. “Yes, it does.”

“I don’t know, Will. She seems hard to talk to.”

“Isn’t that a challenge you’re willing to take on?” William asked.

Cedric sighed, just standing at the edge of the courtyard as the other two girls sitting by Nathalie got up to leave, leaving her alone on the bench. She seemed perfectly content, pulling a book out of her bag. One of the first things Cedric had ever noticed about her was that she actually liked to read.

“Look; she’s alone,” William pointed out. “Now’s your chance.”

“I don’t know,” Cedric murmured, “Are you sure I won’t make her uncomfortable?”

“Go,” William urged him, emphasizing his point by giving him a little shove.

Cedric looked back at him, embarrassed as he slowly walked toward the center the courtyard. Nathalie certainly looked beautiful as she read her book in peace, closed off to the world. She was beautiful, but also quite intimidating. Cedric very slowly and timidly approached her, lightly clearing his throat before announcing himself.

“Hi,” he said, as she slowly looked up.

She seemed indifferent in her reaction, marking her page in the book with her finger as she spoke.

“Hey,” she said, not sure as to what he wanted.

“I’m Cedric,” he introduced himself, politely offering his hand.

Nathalie glanced down at his hand with a smirk, looking back up at him knowingly. She accepted his hand, and he gave hers a gentle shake.

“Hi, Cedric,” she remarked.

“You’re Nathalie, right?” he asked her.

She nodded, a stoic expression on her face as she insisted upon maintaining an advantageous status over him. “That’s right.”

“How are you, Nathalie?” Cedric Diggory asked chivalrously.

“Well,” she replied.

Cedric felt himself getting hot. Making small talk was becoming increasingly difficult.

“We have Transfiguration together, right?” Nathalie recalled.

He was relieved to hear that she was at least aware of his existence.

“And Potions, and History of Magic,” Cedric nodded with a charming smile.

Nathalie’s mouth curled into a smirk that she, for the most part, hid. His attempt at making conversation with her was adorable. Nathalie had to admit, Cedric Diggory was probably the best-looking boy at Hogwarts by far, with his auburn curls, and rosy cheeks. Not to mention, he towered over her, which not many boys could do as she was rather tall for a girl.

“Yeah…” she remembered, beginning to see an angle. “You’ve got pretty good marks in History of Magic, right?” she asked him, slyly running her fingers through her blonde hair.

Cedric had to clear his throat as he forced himself not to be distracted by her perfect waves, which framed her pale, heart-shaped face in the most beautiful way.

“Erm, yeah, yeah, I got an O last term,” he confirmed, reminding himself to appear confident.

Nathalie smiled, her demeanor gradually softening as she crossed her feet in front of her, tilting her head playfully as she spoke to him.

“You know, I can never understand a thing that Professor Binns says. He’s so dull, and lifeless. He’s practically asleep half the time he talks,” she commented.

“Yeah, he’s so boring,” Cedric agreed immediately, chuckling as he realized he might actually stand a chance here.

“Say, Cedric,” Nathalie looked up at him with the most enticing feigned and exaggerated doe eyes, “Would you like to get together and study some time?”

Cedric nearly gasped, shocked that it was this easy.

“Yeah! Yeah, I would,” he nodded. “I’d like that.”

Nathalie nodded appreciatively. “Yeah, it’s just… We have that essay coming up, and I hardly know what to write.”

“Well, we could definitely figure something out,” he promised her, his kind brown eyes locked onto her hazel ones.

Her eyes had this strange magnetic quality to him, as if they were two chasms of greens and browns, sucking him in and consuming him. Nathalie’s beauty was unlike anything he’d ever seen. The most comparable thing to it that he’d seen in nature was probably the Black Lake, bottomless and dangerous.

“Sounds good,” Nathalie beamed, allowing him to believe that he knew the game they were playing. “When are you free next?”

“How about tomorrow afternoon? After classes,” Cedric suggested.

“Works for me,” she said softly. “The library?”

“Yes,” he answered, glad they had come to an arrangement.

Nathalie knew she had Cedric wrapped around her finger. He watched as she walked away, unable to ignore the elegant figure she cut beneath her school uniform. The green and silver would look good alongside his yellow and black, he thought. Cedric’s thoughts were eventually interrupted by the curiosity of his casual friends, the Weasley twins.

“Was that Nathalie Adams you were talking to?” Fred inquired.

George looked over at him knowingly, fully aware that he already knew this.

“Yeah,” Cedric responded with a delighted smile. “We have a study date in the library tomorrow.”

“Study date, you say?” George echoed, glancing at his brother.

“Well. We’re meeting to study,” Cedric said nonchalantly.

“Good luck with that, mate,” Fred offered, which was naturally met with confusion.

Cedric frowned. “What makes you say that?”

“I dunno,” Fred replied coolly. “Just… Nathalie’s a slippery one. Tricky little minx, she is.”

“She seemed perfectly nice to me,” Cedric shrugged.

“Because that’s what she wanted,” Fred told him, fully intending to instigate. “She’s a smart one. Likes to play games; takes a special kind of bloke to keep up with a girl like that,” Fred stated, hinting to him.

“You think?” Cedric asked him.

This thought hadn’t necessarily crossed his mind yet.

“Just be careful with her, is all,” George Weasley advised him. “It’s like handling a snake; you don’t know if it’s poisonous, but even if it’s not you could still lose a finger.”

“Might be best to leave this one to someone a bit more experienced,” Fred offered with a shrug, giving him a supportive pat on the back before the twins disappeared, leaving Cedric alone with his thoughts.

Chapter Two

#fred weasley #fred wealsey fic #fred weasly x reader #fred weasely x y/n #george weasley #harry potter #hp #hp fanfic #cedric diggory #robert pattinson #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory fanfiction #cedric diggory x you #cedric diggory fluff #cedric diggory x female reader

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astro-in-prog · 2 years ago

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Oblivious Colin explaining to his family exactly what kind of man Penelope deserves

Colin: Penelope deserves someone who respects her, who sees how beautiful and witty she is, how kind but fierce she can be.

Benedict: Is that so?

Colin: Indeed! She has such a way with words! She desserves someone who can appreciate the way the sunlight glints off her red hair and the way her smile can light up the darkest of rooms. But she also deserves someone who can look after her and is at the very least wealthy with an earl or viscount in the family.

Anthony: Well ofcourse!

Colin: Someone who can match her wit and exchange barbs with her. Someone who is a graceful dancer and can at the very least sing. Someone well read ofcourse because a dimwit who cannot tell the difference between Byron and Blake just will not do.

Kate: Hmmhmm

Colin: Someone who knows that her favourite colour is green and that she loves daisies. Someone who bring her her favourite sweets - those eclairs from that one shop in town. Someone who notices the way she scrunches her nose while concetrating and the way she fiddles with her hands when nervous.

Francesca: Ahh

Colin: Someone who can show her the world and still give her the family she desires. But more importantly she deserves someone who truly loves her and sees her for who she is. Someone who is her true friend. I will not let her settle for anything less.

Violet: Indeed

Eloise, completely exasperated: OH FOR THE LOVE OF GOD COLIN! Also Eloise, slightly grossed out: The idea of my best friend and my brother.... i cannot-

Colin, turning and giving Benedict the death stare: WAIT! What did you do? ARE YOU AND PEN- BENEDICT BRIDGERTON IF YOU SO MUCH AS LOOK AT PEN-

Benedict, with a smirk: Oh calm down brother! Eloise was clearly talking about- You are aware that you just described yourself right?

Colin: wHaT.... I most certainly did not.

Benedict: YOU respect Penelope.

Anthony, with a self-satisfied smirk: YOU are wealthy and have a Viscount in the family.

Kate: YOU are a graceful dancer and are always giggling in the corner of a ballrooms with her.

Francesca: YOU noticed all those little things about her.

Violet: But most importantly YOU are her dearest friend.

Colin: oh..

Colin, eyes wide in surprise as it dawns on him: OHI!.... I am in love with Pen.

Gregory and Hyacinth, looking at each other: Well it was about time.

#polin #polin bridgerton #colin x penelope #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington

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corpseconvulsive · 3 months ago

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Hi! My name is August and im here to address the rumors of Toby/Plague, a cosplayer and content creator being a groomer and other accusations made within the last few days

You may recognize my name from other posts made regarding myself and other rumors including the rumor that i am one of the people Toby is grooming, which is devastating in my eyes because never once has Toby acted in a predatory way towards me, he is truly one of the coolest dudes ever.

Why did this rumor start? Its because of one screenshot where i am describing that i am cold and toby makes a joke saying he will “wrap his feet around me” which was obviously a joke, wrapping your whole ass feet around someone is not even humanly possible?

I fully consent to the sexual and darker jokes and fully enjoy them as we use in private in our servers for just ourselves and friends watering our humor down in the Blood of Salvation server, Toby always makes sure to respect a boundary if it is brought to his attention, still TO THIS DAY i am asked at least twice a month sometimes even three times if my boundaries have changed, the only one being to not make fun of me for my weight as it makes me incredibly insecure, Toby has never broken that boundary. If people had an issue with our humor, we have always communicated in the server that they can message a moderator to discuss any issues, no one ever messaged us saying they felt uncomfortable.

I can address that our humor is quite sexual and dark to begin with, however if toby is not personally friends, he controls his humor ESPECIALLY around minors, there have been many occasions where Toby has mentioned he is kind of sick of minors joining the server just because they simp and suck up to him and how gross he feels when people act like that just because the find him hot.

Majority of the jokes made were in a chat where only the moderators and admins can talk which you can choose if you want the channel to be visible or not, all moderators who are close friends talk here, we didnt say many of the screenshots shown to random members although we should have been more careful with what we say as some people are incredibly young.

Also the way this was handled was horrendous, Seirei has a large platform that i stopped following a few months ago, her content was great in my eyes and i completely idolized her because she seemed really cool, however things like calling ticci toby an abuser and other drama that arised has caused me to stop following her. She should have handled it like an adult and talked to everyone mentioned to get both sides as some people involved are minors which is so dangerous seeing how people are being doxxed now, some involved are as young as 14. Seirei’s posts are in my eyes, the reason this stupid situation has gotten to the point people have begun doxxing Toby and others, this in my eyes, is terrible, even for the ones making up these rumors and statements that are being doxed as well. I have no respect for those making up these things about my friend, however i think everyone deserves the right to feel safe in there own home without worrying about there information being leaked and something happening to them.

I have messaged Seirei who said to message her if you have more information or input as it says on her tiktok, explaining that Toby is indeed not a fucking creep towards me, is definetly not grooming me as I know the signs I have been groomed twice in my life for long periods of time such as 2-3 years starting before i was even a teenager, and about screenshots and things said about me in general regarding an old situationship. Seirei has not acknowledged my message along with another friend who has messaged her for a simple question.

Regarding the things with my ex situationship, i do not know why it is being brought up as it was irrelevant to this however all i will say is yes i sent her nudes however she did happen to start sending them first and it was a common thing for us to act sexual with one another, also one of the people who happens to be making accusations about Toby has told me i must not have sexual trauma if i sent nudes to her when I admitted i was a victim of sa and grooming which is a horrible thing to say to any victim to disregard what happened to them, it is not right and vile to do that to any victim no matter what abuse they have trauma and scars from, especially when some have developed hypersexuality from the trauma such as myself.

I would also like to discuss how these people accusing toby are hypocritical as well, they act like they have not done similar things while they have.

Robin, someone who started this mainly from what i know, loves to simp and support Jimmy Urine, who if you dont know who that is, he is a giant pedophile and was the singer of MSI(Mindless Self Indulgence). He has been charged with sexual battery against minors and they fully support this man and call him hot and basically drool all over him.

Virus is a person Toby used to be friends with before i came into the picture, a minor who said sexual shit and has wrote multiple in depth paragraphs about wanting to do sexual things with Toby as a minor before Toby finally kicked him from the server and blocked him entirely due to the shit he was saying. When i became friends with Toby I had heard stories about Virus as the server was still below 100 members(believe i was the 96th member after i messaged Toby asking if he had a server since his discord was on his IG) so the server was a close tight knit group with the moderators and there friends before it was opened for the public. After making it public Virus made MULTIPLE TikTok accounts and Discord accounts to join the server after being banned for his weird actions, how do we know? Because this dude kept posting art in his style, I was one of the people who analyzed the art as I am an artist myself, the eyes, nose, face shape, style, is all the same. He even presented us with a fake tiktok account, it was him in a red curly wig, same background as his other tiktoks. He is obsessed and seems to come back at least once every month or two.

Many others have made r34 of characters which is gross, like i mentioned before told me i couldnt have been sa’d and groomed if i sent nudes, someone tried accusing me that i was an adult talking to my situationship who is a minor despite the fact that my ex situationship was older than me, accused Toby of asking a minor to show him their tits as a joke meanwhile the “minor” i question is our friend Kat who is 23 so definetly a minor, people have called moderators who do there job mean, saying its wrong that we “shit talk” members meanwhile we only “shit talk” members if youre being stupid and we think its a possibility youll break the rules and start shit meanwhile these people accusing toby have servers and gcs on discord made for the purpose of shitting on Toby, myself, and other members of the staff in the crp server, and a bunch of other stuff.

As you can see, the list goes on with how hypocritical these people are, using things out of context to try and get the point across when all they are doing is lying to paint Toby in a bad light, its disgusting how they accuse Toby of being a groomer when this is who happens to be accusing him. Again to the rumor Toby is grooming me, i can fully state that no he is not grooming me, he has never acted romantically in any shape or form with me, he has never acted predatory towards me or any others, I mean if I dont text him, my dms are drier than the sahara desert with that man, hes not one to text first so sometimes i go a day or two without actually speaking to him. I know the signs of being a groomer from experience and research, Toby is not grooming myself or any others and its bullshit that people are accusing him based on messages taken out of context.

Thank you for reading🖤🖤❤️❤️

#creepypasta #seirei #drama #toby #crp #crp fandom

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spell-cleaver · 2 months ago

Text

Portrait of an Empire

Flufftober

Day 1: Lost Pet Meet Cute

“Lord Vader,” Sheev said patiently. “What is this… pet?”

He had wondered at the sudden blossoming of Vader’s presence in the Force, here on Mustafar. He had not anticipated the child.

It looked up at him, a sloppy head of golden hair falling around its eyes, so Sheev wasn’t entirely sure where to look to invoke the maximum effect of intimidating it. Whatever it was, and wherever it was looking exactly, its sticky fingers were entangled in the soft fabric of his dark trousers. He feared there would be a sugar trail left behind later.

Vader was still paralysed in the entrance door. Had he truly not expected that his master would sense this swelling of fate? Had he expected peace for him and this… thing?

“Master,” he said. The vocoder had never sounded so desperate. Sheev wanted to laugh, but then the thing tried to bite his shin, and laughter fled with its tail between its legs. “I can explain.”

“I am counting on it.”

Vader did not explain. He just continued to stare, gormless, as his pet started to chew idly on the edge of Sheev’s robe.

Sheev sighed. “Where did you find it?” he pushed. That was as good a starter question as any.

He made to kick the child away, as hard as possible, but before his foot could make purchase with its soft, stupidly unprotected head, he found it stiffened in midair. Vader’s hand was outstretched.

“Do not,” Vader said, “touch him.”

That was the closest thing to rebellion Sheev had ever heard in him. He was so invigorated for it that he let the gross offence of Vader speaking to him like that pass without comment.

For now.

“Then answer my questions. Where did you find it?”

“With Kenobi.” Vader had finally taken the hint and scurried up to lean down—it wasn’t in a bow, but Sheev took it as a grovel anyway—to pick up the thing and hoist it into his arms. The child laughed and reached out to touch his mask.

His relief at being freed from the sticky, nosy, many-fingered beast meant he almost overlooked what had been said. But after a moment in which he rearranged his robes, it struck him. “Kenobi? He lives?”

“No longer.”

There was that, at least.

“And this is his apprentice, then?” He hadn’t been bowled over by the child’s Force-sensitivity, but that made sense. They tended to be better at shielding as a child, and they rarely showed their potential unless they were actively using the Force anyway. Sheev’s lips curled back from his teeth in a smile. “So young? I suppose that is what the Jedi are reduced to, now—the child kidnappers they always were.”

“Kidnappers indeed,” Vader thundered.

“And you are to seek revenge even after Kenobi’s death? Torment his would-be apprentice—”

“Luke is my son.”

Sheev pinched his lips together to prevent him from saying something he would have to fry out of Vader’s memory later.

“Oh?” That did explain why the child was so annoying, at least. “Your child survived? How…” Sheev eyed the boy—Luke—being bounced in his father’s arms. The boy was smiling. “…wonderful.”

“He will live with me,” Vader announced, like a child who rushed to impose their will before being ordered otherwise. “I am his father. I will raise him.”

Sheev fixed a bland smile to his face. “I would not hear anything to the contrary, Lord Vader.”

Vader looked suspicious. Good. He wasn’t a total fool, then. “I will train him, too.”

Could he push harder on this one? Possibly. He left the door open for later down the line. It may be that the boy ended up as useless as his mother; Sheev would hardly want to waste time with him then. “We will revisit the topic of his training when he is capable of walking on his own.” He reconsidered. “Even that may be too soon.”

“He will be a prince of the Empire!” This was Vader’s last demand. And his most desperate one, judging by the edge to his vocoded voice. “The Imperial Prince. A title worthy of him. It is him, my son, I have worked so hard for, after all.”

Prince of the Sith Empire, a tiny, squalling babe like this? He was pathetic. He was so soft and squishable. That was hardly the aura of fear and menace they wanted to project.

Then again…

He was, as many journalists, pundits, and vapid courtiers would later cluck and coo, adorable. Sheev could use adorable while he ground the galaxy beneath the boot of the Sith.

“As he deserves,” Sheev agreed.

Vader was staring at him, shocked to his core. Sheev secretly revelled in the confusion he’d sown. Vader had struggled, shifting to their new Sith master-apprentice relationship after so many years of viewing Sheev as a mentor who would never so much as disagree with him. The violence of it had undermined all he knew about their relationship, even as it was the only thing in the galaxy he had left. It was always useful to keep one’s apprentice off-balance. This would confuse him even more.

“Shall we plan a formal introduction for him?” Sheev asked. “Our subjects will adore him.”

Bouncing on Vader’s hip, Luke hiccupped and turned a bright, beaming smile on Sheev. He pointed at him, hand grasping.

Disgusting.

His fake smile pushed across his face with difficulty, like stretching old, dried-out leather. “Almost as much as I do!”

#random words on a page #my writing #portrait of an empire #flufftober2024 #luke skywalker #darth vader #sheev palpatine #for darkness shows the stars

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sparrowofthedawnsworld · 1 year ago

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Princess Of The Prisoner - Pirate!Jake Kiszka AU

A/N: I’m BACK!! And god, is it good to be. I’ve missed you all so, so much. I thank you all for your patience and endless support. You all mean the world to me <3 I hope you all enjoy this - finally. I love you! (Only lightly edited for the moment).

WARNINGS: Semi-light Violence, bl00d, unconsciousness, fighting, use of weapons.

This is MAJOR 18+ Minors DNI! AT ALL. Bondage, kn!fe play, edging/orgasm denial, light overstimulation, fingering (F), oral (F&M receiving), choking, slapping, degradation, unprotected sex (be smart, be safe!)

Masterlist

•••

“I am no where near equipped for what you are asking of me.” You speak firmly to your father, fighting the intense urge to stomp your foot against the shiny, glassy floor like that of a child.

“If I didn’t see you fit, I would not send you.” Your father says to you, sounding just as sure of his plan as ever.

As always.

“I will not be used as bait for one of your enemies.” You straighten your back, holding his blazing and frustrated stare. “You’ve lost your sanity, father.”

“I have not asked you, I have told you what you are to do.” He remains stubborn and firm. “I expect him here no later than morning. Don’t disappoint me, dearest. Now, you best be off.”

Your face twists in the purest form of anger as you turn away from your father to leave him be at his throne. You storm across the palace, back to your own room.

“How could he put me in such a dangerous position?” you mutter to yourself, gathering up a new dress to change into for your days journey.

“Sending me off to find some god forsaken ship, to hunt down a man for him,” you continue to ramble to no one other than yourself and the over-decorated walls.

Or, so you think.

“Let me guess-“ The cook of your palace stands in your doorway. You have grown quite close with her, given she is one of the few women around anymore. “-You’re being sent off on a mission, per your father’s orders again?”

“Yes,” you sigh heavily, undoing your corset. “I must be off shortly. I’m essentially being used as bait for the captain of some ship, Jacob Kiszka.”

Her eyes look as though they are going to fall out of her head, “Do you not realize who that is, Princess?”

“I haven’t the first clue who he is, no,” you admit.

All you know is that his ship would be arriving sooner rather than later, and Jacob is after a specific sword of your father’s. You are not sure why the sword is so significant, all you know is that Jacob is indeed after it.

“I’m sure he’s some gross old man-“

“Far from it, actually. He’s quite young if I remember correctly,” she informs you, laughing lightly at your shocked expression.

“Young?” you scoff in disbelief. “There is no possible way…”

“Oh, but there is. He could only be a few years older than you,” she continues and laughs lightly at you, unintentionally adding to your frustration more. “Not to say that I am at all on board with your father using you, but I understand why he’s asked you. He’s just a young lad.”

“This is just absolutely ridiculous,” you huff. “Sending me off to capture some boy, who could probably still kill me with one hand, regardless of age!” Your arms flail around you in dramatic emphasis. “How do you even know this information about him?”

“He’s actually quite well known,” she answers, eyes falling to the floor. “But… how I know him personally is not relevant.”

A heavy silence falls over the two of you for a moment.

“I know very well that your father has taught you to be an incredible fighter,” she speaks up, softly breaking the silence. “…Perhaps if you’re truly so worried, you should take another man with you. Daniel, maybe?”

You think on her suggestion for a moment, ultimately deciding it isn’t a bad idea after all.

“Will you please retrieve him for me?”

“Of course, Princess.” She nods to you politely. “I should not distract you any further. Good luck to you, dear.. I shall send for Daniel for you at once.”

“Thank you,” you mumble under your breath, sending her a rather forced smile.

Gathering the rest of your things, you are going off to find Daniel yourself, but you realize he has finally come to you, by the soft knock at your door.

“Princess,” he greets with a charming nod of his head and a smile that can undoubtedly melt the coldest souls. “It was brought to me that you are in need of my assistance.”

“Yes,” you start, casting him your undivided attention, just as he is giving to you. “My father wants me to capture this Captain…Jacob Kiszka. He is after something of his and Father wants him taken care right away.”

“With all respect, Princess, shouldn’t you be demanding he send someone else to do such a job?” Daniel’s face turns immensely concerned and fearful on your behalf. “Jacob is a very skilled and clever man. You have no business-“

“-I’ve tried to change his mind all I can, but you know how he is,” you speak warily, cutting him off. “But that’s why I’ve asked for you. I would love for you to join me.”

Daniel’s eyes widen and the Adams apple of his throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly.

“Princess, I truly don’t think this is-“

“-I have no other choice, Daniel!” You firmly cut him off once again. “Now… Are you coming, or are you going to stay here as though you are some sort of coward?”

Daniel is far from a coward and you know that without a doubt, but you have to convince him somehow.

“When are we to depart?” He caves, speaking through a sigh of defeat.

“Right now.” You nod curtly, grabbing your belongings and walking right past him.

He mumbles to himself from behind you, taking long strides to keep up alongside you, “What have I gotten myself into…?”

“Just look at it as an adventure, Daniel,” you jest in attempts to lighten the mood.

“And suppose one of us gets hurt? What shall happen then?” Daniel questions rapidly, speeding up to reach the door of the palace before you. “Ah! Do not dare to touch that door.”

“I am about to capture a thief and you are concerned about me opening but a single door?” you chide lightly, cocking an eyebrow as he opens the door for you anyway.

You step out first, waiting patiently for him to follow after you.

“And stop thinking in such worrisome ways,” you add, once he joins at your side. “You are quite frankly putting a thorn in my side.”

Your light teasing brings a small smile to Daniel’s face and he huffs a soft laugh before changing the subject entirely.

“How would you like to travel, princess?”

“On foot,” you tell him, taking off in the direction of the area in which Jacob and his ship are suspected to be coming to.

He looks at you with shock filled eyes, “Alright, you are officially out of all of your senses.”

“It is not that far from here,” you roll your eyes, the pair of you walking farther away from the palace. “They’re going to anchor at the closest point they can, but far enough away as to not be perceived from the palace.”

“And how can you be so sure?” He’s full of never ending questions.

“Enough questions, Daniel, seriously,” you sigh in slight annoyance. “It would be in your best interest to simply trust me.”

The two of you walk in silence for quite some time, taking in the nature around you and putting mental marks on things that you walked by, as to not leave any chance of getting lost on your journey back.

“How much farther are we going, Princess?” Daniel breaks down and asks yet another question.

You open your mouth to answer him, but the sounds of various voices shouting about, swiftly interrupt you.

“Stop.” You place your hand out to stop Daniel in his tracks beside to you. “Voices. I hear voices. Do you hear them, Daniel?”

He looks around, listening intently and after a moment or two, the same shouting fills his ears as well.

“I hear them.” Daniel nods, confirming that you are not losing your sanity.

Quickly, you put your plan of attack into motion.

“Daniel, whatever you do, do not leave my side.” You tell him, giving a curt nod as you made your way towards the tree line that followed the edge of the river bank.

The closer you get, the louder the voices become and the more your nerves threaten to overtake you.

You and Danny make your way through the trees, stopping just out of view of the surprisingly nice ship haphazardly docked just before the shoreline.

A beautiful, fit and young man treads his way through the shallow water and up on to the sand, looking far more put together than the rest of the crew surrounding him.

“That must be him…” you point towards him, Daniel’s eyes following your index finger. He nods, confirming your guess.

“Princess, please, let me take care of this?” Daniel pleads quietly. “There are far too many of them to take on alone.”

“Nonsense. I shall do what I was sent to do,” you insist. “We must figure out how to capture him without the rest witnessing. They will surely come looking, if they see us leave with him.”

“Not to mention that we walked here,” Daniel reminds you. “I suppose that means I will be carrying him back, surely?”

“You have always been incredibly smart,” you tease and answer his question all at once.

“Now, then! Now, then!”

Soft gasps are shared between you and Daniel, as who you presume was Jacob, starts to loudly gather in his crew.

“Now that I have the undivided attention of all of you dandy crewmen, I shall be off in attempts to get in to the King’s palace at once!” he begins to explain, voice somehow much louder and firmer than you expected it to be. “I hate to break one’s heart, but all of you are to return to the ship and remain there until I return! I cannot risk my plans being tampered with. Am I clear to all of you?!”

They all express their understanding in almost perfect unison.

“That will be all, then! Please, return to the ship right away!”

Like well trained animals, everyone files back to the ship as Jake stands around to watch on, ensuring not one person is staying behind.

He is so breathtaking… It almost drowns out the hatred that you already hold for him.

You shake your intrusive thoughts of the captain away, putting on your brave face to continue on with a new plan.

“Come, Daniel!” you yell in a whisper, creeping your way back out of the trees.

“Come on!”

Once you both make it out, he begins his frantic questioning once more, “What ever are we doing now, princess?!”

“Hush,” you silence him. “We must go back towards the palace. I believe it best that we ambush him there.”

He simply shakes his head in understanding, glancing over his shoulder quickly to be sure no one has spotted either of you and is following.

You stop at the bushes near the entrance of the palace, breathing heavily and shaking your head in exasperation as the two of you duck down out of sight.

Daniel lets out a frustrated and tired huff. “We are back where we started, princess. I’m starting to question your oh-so elaborate planning.”

“You are being such a sore thumb today. I beg of you to just do as I say.” You send him a pleading look.

Silence fills the air around the two of you for a while, until the cracking of rocks beneath boots captures Daniel’s attention.

“Princess,” he nudges at your shoulder. “The Captain is upon us.”

You peak through the flowers and leaves, eyeing him as he makes his way carefully up the path.

You catch yourself gawking at him again; the way he walks, his long tresses and the beautiful dagger hanging from a strap across his chest.

“Your majesty, please,” Daniel begs, knocking you from your trance. “Please, tell me what you want me to do.”

“I… I want you to wait until he walks by us. If we stay here, he won’t see us right away. Once he passes, we will attack from behind. I need him unconscious,” you explain quickly. “Once he is unconscious, I will tie his hands and you shall help me carry him to the cells.”

Just as you finish and Daniel gives you his quick, verbal understanding, Jake passes through the gates and bushes, slowing his pace and ducking every so often to avoid possibly being seen.

“I will tell you when,” you whisper into Daniel’s ear and he nods once.

The captain walks a few more feet up the pathway, ducking down behind a rose bush and unsheathing his dagger from its case.

Daniel copies him, pulling his own dagger from its casing.

“Now,” you mutter with unbridled urgency.

Daniel has Jake plummeting to the ground within seconds. You watch on for only a moment, before fear takes over and you feel the need to join him.

Groans and curses are being hurled between them, swings and bone crushing punches being thrown along with their noises of pain.

Jake holds his dagger backwards, swinging the handle towards the side of Daniel’s head.

“NO!”

You bolt towards them, taking Jake to the ground upon your collision - sparing Daniel of the bone-crushing blow that was mere seconds away from colliding with the temple of his head.

Daniel recovers rather quickly, throwing you off of Jake and taking your place on top of him.

One strong and well-timed swing from Danial is all it takes and the Captain falls limp against the ground as he goes unconscious.

Daniel falls away from him, chest heaving and covered in small droplets of blood here and there. His hand clutches over his chest, as he fights to recenter himself.

“Are you alright?” you ask frantically, pulling the rope from around your waist and tying it securely around the Captain’s hands.

“Just perfect, Princess,” Daniel chuckles sarcastically, dusting himself off as he stands to his feet. “Here, allow me.”

“I think not.” You swat his hand away. “Rest for another moment. I will take care of this.”

Once you have the knots tied, you stand up and let Daniel take over again. He scoops him up like a rag doll, throwing him over his shoulder as though the Captain weighs little to nothing.

You bend down and pick up Jake’s dagger, shoving it down into your pocket and following after Daniel as he starts making his way up towards the palace.

“How long do you think he will stay unconscious?” you ask, making your way through the lower levels of the palace.

“Not much longer, I’m afraid.” Daniel answers, stopping at the large cell at the end of the cold, dimly lit hallway.

“Just put him on the bed. I shall take it from here.” You order rather gently, confident that he can’t hurt you from behind the bars of the cell.

“As you wish.”

Daniel drops him down onto the bed and unties him carefully, tossing the rope to the side thoughtlessly as he goes.

Just as he finishes Jake lets out a low groan of discomfort and Daniel quickly makes his was back out of the cell.

You close the door and lock it, watching Jake for a moment to find that he is still mostly out of it, when there isn’t another sound to be heard from him.

“Do you wish for me to inform your father that we have the Captain?”

“No!” You look up to Daniel with panic-filled eyes. “I will tell him myself. He doesn’t know that you accompanied me and I would rather him not.”

“Understandable, Princess,” Daniel says. “I shall keep my doings to myself.”

“I am most grateful for you,” you smile up at him, placing a gentle hand on his bicep. “Thank you.”

Removing your hand from his arm, Daniel brings it up to his lips in a gentle kiss as he bows, “You are most welcome, your majesty.”

He releases your hand, standing upright and beginning his way down the hallway.

Before he gets too far, he turns back to face you with a serious look. “Princess?”

You whip around to face him also, “Yes, Daniel?”

“If anything is to happen and you need my assistance again, you know where I reside.”

Not awaiting an answer - knowing you understand without having to say so out loud - he disappears through the large door. The loud sounds of it closing sends an eerie echo around the concrete walls and floor.

You slowly turn back towards the cell, watching and listening to Jake intently for any signs of movement or noise.

“Bloody hell,” Jake’s voice rumbles in a low groan, his arms struggling to push his weight away from the bed he is sprawled across.

He finally gets himself upright, looking around in a pure panic at his surroundings.

Stumbling up to his feet, he spins around and freezes in place when his eyes land upon you.

“Oh, well is this not just lovely?” you speak rather tauntingly. “The captain is finally awake.”

“And you are?” Jake saunters up to the door, rough hands wrapping around the cold bars.

“Princess of The Garden, at- well… I am not at your service,” you stumble over your formalities, forgetting that you owe him not a single one. “Not much of a kingdom we have around here, more so a small, royal family on secluded land.”

“I am very well aware of practically all of that.” Jake bites matter-of-factly, full of anger.

There are a few moments of intense silence, the loud and unsteady breathing from Jake being the only constant sound.

“Would you be so kind as to remind me how I managed to get here?” Jake questions bitterly, clearly trying to contain his rage.

“Me,” you smile at him with hardly contained pride. “Well, me and another accomplice.”

“Quite weak of you to have to bring a companion along just to capture me.” Jake smirks, his face noticeably contorting in discomfort as he assesses with his fingertips, the bruises that Daniel had left on his jaw. “Someone ought to teach you how to fight.”

“You know nothing about my fighting skills,” you say dryly, sending him a death glare through the bars of the cell. “I would be a fool to travel alone, regardless of how well I fight.”

“You seem to be a bit of a fool anyway,” Jake chuckles, glancing up at you with bold eyes.

If you could smack him across his careless mouth, you absolutely would.

“Letting your father send you into such danger…” Jake shakes his head, giving you a judgmental once-over. He turns and walks towards the hard bed in the corner. “You aren’t cut out for such violence.”

“I wish you would stop speaking as if you know me.” Your arms cross over your chest. It isn’t a very good response, but it is as good of one as you can seem to gather. “You know absolutely nothing about me.”

Jake ignores the comment entirely.

“If I may ask, why are you still lingering, princess?”

The name falling of his tongue is like a drug. The most addictive drug one could find. Somehow he makes the most flattering and important name, sound so degrading.

You stand frozen in place for a few moments too long, struggling to find a genuine reason for staying around - of which you do not have.

He hums to himself, head tilting back slightly, “Just as I thought. You haven’t any good reason.”

You open your mouth to attempt some sort of protest.

“If I may, your majesty,” Jake stands to his feet and saunters back to the door. “You are quite the gem. So exquisite and beautiful…” he trails off for a moment, a sly grin spreading over his lips as he looks over you. “Too bad you are too feisty and disobedient for my liking.”

Your whole body begins to boil with various emotions; you’re flustered, angry and immensely intrigued by him. He is setting you ablaze in a foul, but irresistible way.

“And… you are much too disrespectful for my taste,” you seethe, faltering for a moment so short, you hope it goes unnoticed. “Speaking to royalty in such a despicable manner…”

“And yet, the royalty herself, seems to be enjoying it.” Jake grins wickedly.

You can’t tell if it’s your body’s attempt to be intimidating, or seeking closer proximity to Jake. Regardless, without really thinking, you step forward, “What makes you believe for a second that I am enjoying any part of this?”

“Many reasons, Princess…” Jake starts, speaking low and hushed. “You’ve taken at the very least five steps closer to this door. You could have left the second your… ‘accomplice’ dropped me in here.”

“You are terribly-“

“-Quiet, Princess. I don’t take well to being interrupted.” Jake cuts you off abruptly, holding up a single finger that you can not seem to tear your eyes away from. “I would almost say you enjoy being spoken to this way, don’t you? Everyone gets tiresome with constantly hearing praises… And I’m sure praise is all you know, is it not?”

“Perhaps.” The word leaves your mouth bitter and clipped. He is very much right - you both know that very well.

“Mhm, as I thought.” Jake grips the bars of the door above his head, leaning forward as far as he can go. “You know… I could show you so much more. Make you feel so much more.”

“And what could you possibly be hinting at with such words, Captain?” you question, attempting to throw his title back at him the same he had yours. Only to sound much more breathy than you intend.

“If only I had the keys to open this-“ He gestures to the large door, the only thing keeping the two of you separated. “-I could show you much better than I could ever tell you, your majesty.”

“Never in a million years would I consider letting you out,” you scoff, shoving the key that is now damp from your sweating hands, back into your pocket.

“Who said anything about letting me go?” Jake asks you. “Just join me. You have the key to leave whenever you so please.”

“And… if I do choose to join you…?” You narrow your eyes, taking in his blown out pupils and all the little details surrounding them.

“Then I shall do just as I have said and show you things you will never forget.” Jake promises lowly, leaning in closer. “Things you will never want to forget,” he adds.

Your faces are as close as they can possibly be, you can feel the warmth of his breath as he speaks to you.

Without once looking away from him, you hastily retrieve the key from your pocket and unlock the door.

Jake steps back, allowing you the proper space to slide the door open just enough to squeeze your body through and get into the cell with him.

You turn around and close the door, closing your eyes for a split second in attempts to slow your pounding heart and process what you have just done.

As you turn around to finally face Jake, he immediately outstretches his hand towards you and bows before you ever-so-slightly.

Hesitantly, you place your shaking, sweating hand in his and he brings it up to his lips, “‘Tis quite the pleasure, Princess.”

Jake places the first kiss to the top of your hand, holding your stunned gaze. He shifts his hold up to your wrist, his lips following and placing another kiss higher up.

He continues the same actions, kissing all the way up your arm, until his hand reaches your shoulder and his face is inches from yours.

Slowly, he backs you up until you can feel the uncomfortable firmness of metal bars against your back.

“You are truly quite the brave one for joining me.” Jake whispers against your ear. “Just to make things sort of even, I fully plan to tease you until you’re begging and pleading for my mercy.”

“And what leads you to believe I would ever beg someone like you?” You tilt your head back defiantly.

Jake only smirks In amusement, “Is that a challenge?”

“If you can make me beg, I will let you go and tell my father you didn’t dock where he expected,” you bet with him rather smugly… and stupidly.

“My, my. The princess is going to beg me like a whore and lie to her father?” Jake tsks with a faux disappointed shake of his head. “It seems I have corrupted the sweet, royal, princess already. And suppose your accomplice -as you called him- goes back and tells him…? What lie should be grand enough to cover us then?”

His nose is practically brushing against your own, a tension so unbearable further blooming between the two of you.

“T-That is not his place. My father didn’t know that I took him, nor will he. I asked Daniel not to speak of his hand in helping me, or even that we have you,” you inform him truthfully. “It was my duty to capture you and bring you here, not his. I shall be the one to tell my father what it is he must know.”

“Well, then, I suppose I can have my way with you.” Jake purrs, teasing his lips over yours. “Is that what you want, your majesty?”

“So many words and promises, but you’ve yet to show me a thing.” You just barely chase after his lips.

Grabbing each side of your face with both of his large and calloused hands, Jake connects his lips with yours roughly.

It takes you a moment to catch up to his pace, especially with losing every bit of air from your lungs within the very second his lips met yours. Your tongues move against each other, fighting for dominance as whimpers flutter from you and into his warm mouth.

He pulls away, breathless and practically hissing out his next words, “Sweet, sweet princess. You do not know a bit of what you have in store for yourself. Stay right there.”

Jake steps back from you with a finger pointed to the floor where you stand, bending down to pick up a lengthy piece of rope that you and Daniel had him tied up with not so long ago.

“Do you trust me?” There’s a twinkle in his eyes, amusement behind them as he asks you the ridiculous question.

You stare down at the rope outstretched before you - shocked, but you remain shamefully aroused by it all the same.

“Trust- trust you? You are nothing but a complete stranger,” your voice wavers.

“Nonsense. We have spent at least few hours in one another’s presence, now, haven’t we?” His crooked smile sends waves of heat to your core. “Stranger? yes, in some sense. But I’m not a complete stranger anymore.”

You drop your eyes from his, back down to the rope in his hands. Jake pushes it out a little closer to you, eyes deeply studying your cautious but curious face.

Slowly, you lift your hands up and lay your wrists over top of his hands, looking up at him in question as if to say, ‘is this right?’

Jake holds your burning stare and starts to wrap the rope around your wrists, binding them together tightly, but still comfortably somehow.

“Outstanding,” Jake hums, walking off to a corner where another small piece of rope has been discarded.

“Just one last thing,”

Jake makes his way back over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder and pushing you back a few steps until your back collides with the cold metal bars.

His hand travels from your shoulder, down your arm, until it reaches the rope around your wrists. Grabbing it, he watches your breath quicken as he lifts your arms up and over your head, securing them to the bars with a second piece of rope.

“Mm-“ you clear your throat nervously. “-And how do you presume you will be able to remove my dress in such a position?”

“Lovely of you to inquire,” Jake smiles wildly, pressing his body against yours and leaning in closer to your ear. “I just so happened to see this-“ his hand travels the corseted curve of your side, dipping into your pocket. “-the handle of my dagger shining, while you were standing outside the cell. Not only are you a princess, but a little thief.”

“Well- I...” you stutter weakly, feeling mindless for forgetting to leave it with Daniel.

“You what?” Jake presses, biting at the shell of your ear.

Your only response is your labored breathing, unable to form an intelligible response.

He unsheathes his beautiful dagger from your pocket, resting it over your chest.

“You think too little of my schemes, princess.” He places a kiss over your nose. “I already planned to take my dagger back to use just for this moment. Why take your clothes off with my tired hands, when I could cut them off?”

“Jake,” his name rushes out of your lungs in a heavy sigh.

He grabs you by the waist, turning you around to face the bars and skillfully cut the strings of your corset.

Turning you back around to face him, he pulls it off of your body with ease and continues on with cutting away at your other garments.

Each piece is slowly pulled from you, neatly cut and haphazardly tossed to the side by Jake’s calloused hands.

As he yanks the last piece away, you are then completely naked before him - eyes never lifting to meet his burning gaze upon you.

“Breathtaking, your majesty,” Jake all but whispers, seemingly a little lost in the site that he is beholding.

You draw in a deep breath, exhaling it even slower than the slowness at which you had taken it in, “I’m sure I look far more suitable than anyone you have ever laid with.”

Upon your overweening remark, your eyes finally meet with his and you swear you see fire flash within them.

“How witty of you, princess,” Jake snaps sarcastically, pressing his body into yours. “Haughty of you to assume you are not the one that I would graciously turn away.”

It stings, but somehow you know he doesn’t mean it. Part of you hoped he didn’t, at least.

“Your mouth is foul and full of disrespect,” you snap quietly; silently wishing your hands were free, so that you can act on the resurfacing urge to smack him.

Jake stays silent, bringing the handle of his dagger down against your stomach and slowly dragging it down. The golden handle makes goosebumps form across your skin, your hips writhing about ever so slightly in anticipation.

Just when the end of his handle is close to your heat, he jerks it away entirely.

Instead, he dips his own finger down farther to feel the wetness pooling between your legs himself.

Jake glances up at you with wild eyes, flashing you a wicked smile. “The princess, so proper and poised and innocent… soaked as though she’s dipped into the river.”

Adjusting his careful hold around the blade, Jake lays the handle right where it had stopped before he pulled it away. He continues its slow descent down to your clit, where it halts to rub in the slowest, softest circles.

“Oh, Jake,” you gasp, pushing your hips harder against it.

“Oh, that’s just lovely,” Jake smirks, leaning in to place kisses over your exposed chest. “My name sounds beautiful coming from that pretty little mouth.”

He uses his own hips to hold yours in place, so he that can move the handle of the dagger at whatever pressure or speed he so desires.

“Let me hear it again, princess… ‘Jake,’” he repeats his own name to you, as though you don’t know it.

“Jake,” he repeats again.

Trying to hold onto your defiance and composure, you harshly bite at the inside of your mouth to keep from doing as he asked.

“This won’t do at all, your majesty,” Jake clicks his tongue, moving the handle in faster circles, while his other wraps around your throat. “Did I not say I want to hear you again? Come now, let me hear what pretty noises you can make. I’m sure you’re fantastic at it, little whore.”

He presses the handle harder into your bundle of nerves, drawing firmer circles against you. It’s untamable; the noise that erupts from your lungs, echoing through the cold cell and likely even through the long hallway.

“So beautiful. Keep going…” Jake encourages, tilting his head back as he watches on to your pleasure.

Jake leans forward, his free hand securing itself around your jaw to tilt your head to the side. His lips meet with your neck, biting roughly at the tender skin and soothing the sting with the softness of his tongue.

A soft laugh floats out of him each time you whine or struggle against him and the rough ropes that secure you in place.

“Jake,” you whimper through a labored exhale. The feeling of sweet release is already beginning to bloom in the pit of your stomach.

“Is the princess getting close?” Jake questions with a sly cadence. “Already, your majesty?”

You choose not to answer him, in light of climbing to the peak of your orgasm without chance of interruption.

Alas, Jake is the least bit stupid.

“Are you trying to fool me, princess?” Jake asks lowly, slowing the circles that the handle of his dagger are making.

The urge to relent and beg him is already far greater than you anticipated, but you are determined to stand your ground.

“Not trying to fool you, only avoiding the act of begging a thief,” you speak breathlessly.

“That’s a shame,” Jake grins, trailing his hand down your body to your arousal. A single finger plays at your entrance, “I would let you cum if you were not so hell bent on being a stubborn little brat.”

Just to antagonize you further, he sinks his finger inside you, purposefully curling it upwards just shy of the sweet spot within you.

“Mm…”

A tight lipped whimper tumbles out of you, your body arching into his touch ever-so-slightly.

“Oh? Do you like that, princess?” Jake taunts, looking down the bridge of his nose as he watches you. “You love having attention on your pretty little pussy, don’t you?”

“I…” You aren’t really sure what you had planned to say, or even what you want to say. All thoughts are either jumbled, or lost entirely.

“You what?” Jake pries, sliding the handle of the dagger through your folds to collect more of your wetness.

The second the handle returns to your throbbing bundle of nerves, something snaps inside of you.

“Jake,” you whine, tugging at your restraints despite the incessant burn of the rope. “Jake, please!”

“There it is.” Jake’s smile is pleased and cocky.

Feeling ever so gracious, he pushes in a second finger and deepens their rhythmic thrusts.

Jake presses his lips to the corner of your open mouth, “Tell me how good it feels, princess. Tell me.”

“I-it feels s-so good. Feels so good,” you stutter, tempted to turn your head and capture his lips in a kiss, all on your own accord. “Please!”

“Please?” He parrots mockingly. “Please what, your majesty?”

The feelings of your impending climax finally starts to build once again. This time, you are not going to give it up.

“Please let me cum!” You nearly sob, rushing every single word from your mouth. “Please, captain, I’ll do whatever you want… J-just please let me cum.”

“Give it to me, then,” Jake demands. “Right now.”

The band of pleasure breaks within you, sending you into an earth-shattering spiral of bliss that you could not have ever prepared yourself for.

Your knees buckle beneath you, leaving the ropes binding your wrists to be the only thing holding you up. The sting of the rope not even registering, as cuts and burns surely form around your wrists.

“What a good girl you are for me, princess,” Jake praises you, removing his fingers from you first to wrap his arm around your body, holding you up.

“J-Jake,” you choke out, squirming in his hold against the overstimulation that he was beginning to cause you. “I- It-s-“

“Shhh,” he silences you, a little reluctantly pulling his dagger away from your core. “I know, princess.”

Studying your face, he takes in your half-lidded eyes and flushed cheeks. The slightest bit of pity took over him.

Jake tucks the dampened handle of his dagger beneath your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “Will you be a good girl if I untie you? Hm?”

“Y-yes, sir- I mean, Captain,” you answer him, correcting yourself once more just for good measure. “Yes, Captain.”

Flipping the weapon around, he drags the tip of the dagger down your throat with only enough pressure to make it resemble a feather, making your breath hitch in your chest. Fear starts to rise back up inside you, along with adrenaline. The combination is intoxicating in a dangerous way.

“Will you truly?” Jake cocks a single eyebrow at you.

The sharp tip moves across your chest and down your stomach, goosebumps forming as you shudder.

“Yes! Yes,” you promise, breathing uneven and more labored than it has been so far.

The tip dips into your belly button, eliciting some sort of choked whimper from your throat.

Jake smirks at that, “Feels nice, doesn’t it?” He begins to trail it back up your body, the same way it had descended down.

You’re struck silent, unable to manage a single word.

Finally reaching your bindings, with two flicks of the dagger, the ropes fall from your wrists.

Your body immediately collapses forward into Jake’s. He tosses his dagger to the floor with a high-pitched clink, just in time to catch you.

“Falling at my feet so soon, princess?” Jake snickers, hauling you back up and guiding you to the bed.

“You forget yourself,” you scoff, clearly displaying your distaste for the thought of being at his feet. “One place you will never find me is at your feet.”

“No, your majesty-“ Jake tangles a hand in your hair, yanking your head back. “-You have forgotten yourself.”

Letting go of your hair, he hastily works to undo the buttons adorning his vest, pulling it away to be discarded onto the dirty floor of the cell - his shirt following directly after.

“What happened to being my good girl?” Jake inquires, stepping closer to you, his face mere inches from yours.

Your response is quick and confident, “Being your good girl is only applicable if you’re pleasing me, Captain.”

“Oh, is it, now?” Jake places his hand over your sternum, sliding it up until it splays around your throat and tightens there. “Is that not what I just did? Please you?” You struggle to draw in air as his grip stays unrelenting, his hold never once wavering as you slowly sink to your knees. “And you’re so needy and desperate that it still wasn’t good enough for you?”

He leans down to be eye level with you as he fires questions at your flushed face, “You’ll take what I feel so inclined to give you, your majesty.”

Jake releases his grip, standing straight up as he watches down on you, gasping to refill your burning lungs with air.

While you work on regaining some form of control over your own body and mind, Jake begins removing the rest of his clothes.

You look up, watching him attentively through your lashes. The perfections of his body are not lost on you.

“Perhaps we should try this again,”

Jake suggests, taking himself in his hand. Your mouth waters at the sight of him. His free hand cups your cheek, “Are you going to be my good girl?”

All you can muster is a nod, unsure that your voice can even function to its fullest abilities.

His thumb, gentle and featherlight in touch, traces over your bottom lip before sinking into your mouth, “Prove it to me, then.”

Your hands are reaching up to wrap around him, before your brain can even fully process the movement.

A kiss far too innocent for the actions you wre about to take part in, is placed over his tip. You hear the shaky breath Jake draws in, encouraging you to repeat the same little kiss once more.

You drop one of your hands down to your lap, sliding your hand down to his base. Sinking your mouth down over the rest of him, you can tell that his whole body shuddered from the pleasure you’re providing him.

“That’s it, princess,” he encourages you, his hand coming up to tangle into your hair.

The twitch of his fingers against your scalp, serves to enlighten you on his urge to push you further. Taking a deep breath, you take him as far as you can go, breathing through the urge to gag around him.

“Fuck,” he curses, hips jerking on their own volition. “Your mouth is too good for me, angel, but you look absolutely lovely taking me like a little whore.”

A whimper sounds from your throat, sending the slightest bit of vibration through him. You start to find a steady rhythm, his hand still resting in your hair.

Every so often, his grip will tighten when you do something he particularly likes. Within a minute or so, he is throbbing inside of your mouth.

“Fuck, alright- enough.” He pulls you away abruptly, breathing significantly more labored.

He takes a moment to gather himself, staring up at the ceiling, as if fighting to hold onto his composure.

“Stand up,” he demands, releasing his grip on your soft tresses.

You scramble up to your feet, dizziness plaguing you for a brief moment.

Jake takes no more than a single step closer to you, eyes scanning over the expanse of your naked body that is displayed before him. He reaches up, dragging the back of his knuckles along your temple, letting the gentle touch travel its way down your face, your neck and to your breasts.

The tip of his finger grazes over your nipple, causing your eyes to flutter closed as your breathing increases.

“Oh, the ways I could ruin this flawless body…” Jake trails off, dragging the tip of his finger down your stomach slowly. “So perfect and not a single blemish or mark in sight. A true beauty, you are, aren’t you?”

With every word that so gracefully purrs its way out of his mouth, he backs you closer to the bed.

“M… mark me.” The words fly out of you before you can stop them.

In one quick movement that you are far too dazed to notice, you’re laying beneath him. His cock rests against the inner part of your thigh, hard and still throbbing softly every few seconds.

“Mark you?” he repeats your words back to you in question. “How could I, your majesty?”

There is a playful cadence to his tone, very clearly telling you that he will gladly oblige to the idea.

Jake quirks a single eyebrow at you, “And how do you suppose I do so?”

Given the fact that you hadn’t meant to say it, you haven’t thought that far ahead. Visuals of the silver blade of his dagger lightly grazing your skin, replay in your mind. Along with the imagines of bite marks and bruises that you will surely have to find the means of covering.

“Speak up,” he grumbles, lips ghosting over the center of your throat.

You quickly come to the conclusion that you will allow him to do whatever he pleases, as undeniably insane as it is.

“Do what you wish.”

Jake sits up, bold, widened eyes boring directly into yours.

You stare at each other for a few long moments, before you watch the corner of his mouth twitch and curl up into his increasingly familiar smirk.

“Mmm,” he hums in acknowledgement to your words.

Both of his hands smooth over your hips and up to your breasts, where he cups them and brings his mouth down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth.

“Jake,” you whimper, gripping at the firmness of his bare shoulders.

“I refuse to mark you permanently just yet…” Jake says against your skin. His left hand retreats from your chest, palm harshly colliding with your thigh. “Temporarily, of course-“ his palm cracks against you once more, surely leaving a red tint in its wake. “-I suppose, will do for now.”

You inhale and exhale shakily through your mouth; hung open in shock and the slightest hint of pain.

“Take me, please,” you beg him pathetically.

“Take you where, your majesty?” Jake inquires, a teasing inflection to his voice. He knows.

“Right here,” you sigh, pressing your hips up into his. “You know what I want.”

Reaching between your bodies, he glides his fingers in between your folds - still completely soaked.

“Perhaps I do.” He toys around at your entrance, paying your clit the slightest bit of attention afterwards. “There’s a chance that I don’t, though.”

A low, sinister laugh erupts from his chest as he watches you squirm underneath him.

“Tell me, princess,” Jake demands, voice low and raspy. You can feel his cock teasing your entrance, just waiting for you to say the filthy words he wants to hear so badly. “Take. You. Where?”

Pathetic as it may be, a sob tears its way out of your lungs, “Take me right here, please...I want- need you inside of me.”

“She needs it,” he taunts, barely pushing into you. “Sweet little princess just needs to be fucked…turned into a filthy mess.”

“Oh, god- fuck-“ Your nails dig deeper into the skin of Jake’s back.

“Princess is no good for anything but getting ruined by the man she’s supposed to be capturing.” Jake pulls out almost completely, only to drive himself back inside of you roughly.

The moan that rips its way out of your throat is anything but pure and elegant, bouncing around the walls around you and likely beyond.

“Quiet.” Jake places a hand over your mouth, his other holding his body above yours as he starts to sharply thrust into you. “God forbid you get us caught… Get ME caught.”

Jake begins working his way up to a steady, brutal pace. The depths at which you can feel him is sending an almost unbearable pleasure through you. From the center of your body, out to the tips of your fingers and toes; the pleasure completely consumes you.

You can’t help the volume that your moans have taken on.

Jake attempts to silence you by capturing your lips in a hungry kiss, but it proves to be of very, very little help.

He pulls away abruptly, hand wrapping around your throat, “Shut. Your fucking. Mouth, princess. Will you?” He rasps into your ear through gritted teeth. “We can’t possibly have His Majesty hearing how much of a whore you are for a thief.”

Your head lulls back, face contorted in concentration and immense pleasure as Jake continues to fuck into you relentlessly. Mercilessly.

“Good girl,” Jake praises you, starting to lose control of his own breathing.

The hand wrapped around your throat, travels up to your face; a bruising grip forcing you to look at him.

“I want you to cum for me. Quietly,” Jake growls, adjusting himself above you to bring his other hand between your two bodies. His fingers find your swollen clit, “You can do that, yes?”

“Mhm,” you hum your response, afraid that if you are to open your mouth too much, the unholiest of noises are sure to free themselves from your lungs.

“Come on, then,” Jake urges, pinning your body in place on the rather uncomfortable bed with his own. “Let me have it.”

You feel that addicting burn spreading through the pit of your stomach, mere seconds away from taking over your whole body.

As soon as Jake watches your eyes roll back into your head and your mouth fall open into the perfect little ‘o,’ he crashes his lips into yours to ensure that all possible noises are muffled.

Even he groans lowly into your mouth, forcing your to swallow it down as he continues kissing you with mind numbing passion and fervor.

Your lungs start to tingle, your body buzzing and thrashing all at once; riding out an orgasm unlike any you have ever had.

Jake’s orgasm is only seconds after yours. He spills inside you, gasping to refill his lungs with air when he pulls away from you.

“Damn it,” Jake moans. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Bliss has overtaken the both of you, leaving you to bask in stunned silence for what felt like an hour.

“I… I must say,” Jake finally speaks up. “You are quite something, your majesty.”

For once, his tone doesn’t have any malicious intent or taunting cadence behind it. It seems genuine.

You gaze up at him, slightly shocked. “Thank you…”

He removes himself from above you, laying to your side closest to the wall, leaving you the space to leave the bed.

Staring up at the ceiling, hands on his chest, he reminds you of his previous promise, “You’re free to go if you please, I shouldn’t keep you here any longer, your majesty…”

You blink a few times, struck speechless by his sudden change. You think over your next decision carefully before speaking.

“I… I think I would like to stay here with you…” You tell him, settling back against the worn blanket.

Jake has turned to look at you, now, “What?”

Moving closer to him, you cuddled into his arm, “I want to stay here with you, Jake.”

You blink a few times, trying to rid your eyes of their sleepiness.

Suddenly, the loud slamming of the cell door startles you nearly senseless. You roll yourself over and sit up, all in almost one swift movement.

“Jacob?!” you yell, anger and fear flooding your entire body as you scramble up to your feet. “What ever do you think you are doing?!”

“No hard feelings, my Darling,” he starts with a faux, pitied smile. “You were absolutely magnificent. I almost brought you along. I’ll let them know to come retrieve you as soon as I step foot back on my ship.”

You mouth falls agape, your chest becoming dangerously tight as it heaves up, then shakily back down.

Jake pulls the key he had stolen from the pocket of your dress out of the lock, taking a few steps backwards before bending down and laying it gingerly on the ground.

He straightens, kicking the key just so. It slides towards the door with a few high pitched clinks, stopping just out of your reach.

Jake smiles brightly, shooting you a sly wink, “If we ever cross paths again, let’s revisit this…escapade, shall we?”

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