Dark!Azriel x reader: Stockholm Syndrome[***]
A/N: This is for the Eat You Up girlies <3
Warnings: dubcon themes, dark!Azriel, CNC kink, bdsm undertones, leashes + collars, heavy Dom/Sub dynamics, sex toys, knife play, pussy-spanking, impact play, degradation, foot-humping, biting, slight choking, shadows, sadomasochism, somnophilia, nipple play…?, spitting, mention of non-con
Word Count: 9,960
Visual Prompt here!
You pad quietly along the corridor, searching.
Shadows flick at your ankles, around your bare calves, herding you gently toward the stairs. Teeth bite softly into your lower lip as you ascend the case, feet tiptoeing along the carpeted hallway as you’re guided to his office. The door is ajar, and you spot him at his desk, walking in silently.
Not silent enough, apparently.
Hazel eyes flick over his shoulder, pinning you to the floor, and you still, breath catching in your throat. He turns a little in his chair, darkness thrumming around him, wreathing the great, powerful wings at his back. His eyes catch on your bare thighs, gaze darkening as he drinks you in, frozen in his room.
Azriel’s lips quirk, and that’s all it takes to have your limbs unsticking.
You eagerly pad forward, walking up to him, hands moving to your hips then wrapping round the base of your spine. Your own hands land on his broad shoulders as you slide into his lap, legs parting either side of his thighs. You press into his warmth, nestling deeper into the firm strength of him, nosing at his throat.
Azriel’s large hand strokes your hair, soothingly possessive, tucking you away.
A hum sounds in your chest, almost a purr, and your hips wind gently over his own, rocking your centre against him. He can feel the softness of your sex through the seam of his leathers. “Been a long day, huh?” He asks, large hand spanning your throat as he eases you back—so he can look at you. Remind himself how obedient you are. How docile you’ve become.
You blink quietly up at him, satisfaction gleaming in his sharp, hazel eyes.
White canines flash as his lips lift into a grin, “want something, pet?” Your hips roll onto his needfully, fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt. A low chuckle sounds deep in his chest, “want my cock, hm?” Your head dips, and he laughs again. “I’d’ve thought all the maidenly blushing would have been fucked out of you by now,” he drawls, the rich timbre of his voice stirring something hot and liquid in the pit of your belly.
Papers rustle behind you, but you’re too busy staring up at him to care.
“Get on the desk. Legs spread,” he orders, and you practically fizzle with excitement. Sliding out of his lap, and raising yourself up carefully, so your ass is perched near the edge. Thighs part shyly, and you’re thankful for the fabric covering your heat. No matter how many times he’s already seen you, from all sorts of obscene angles.
You squirm when he remains quiet, simply leaning back in his chair, eyes slowly raking over you, leisurely taking you in, as if you aren’t burning with need. His gaze fixates on a spot between your legs, the teal silk darkened and damp. Heat bubbles as his tongue flicks out, wetting his lips. Showing his growing appetite.
“Remove your top for me, pet,” he says softly, eyes so full of starving hunger it sends goosebumps raising across your skin, nipples peaking as your fingers catch the hem of the cotton. Pulling it up over your head, you shiver in the cool air of his office, toes curling at the intensity of his gaze.
Silence stretches as he watches with predatory intent, allowing your anxiety to build, anticipation thrumming beneath your skin.
“Do you remember when you used to protest to all this?” He asks softly, sharp hazel piercing into you, pinning you to his desk. “How you used to scream, and beg for me not to touch you?” A shiver thrills down your spine, and he marks it eagerly. “Answer me, pet.”
You dip your head. “I do.”
His mouth parts in a grin, canines peeking from below his upper lip. “Want to recreate that for me?”
Breath catches in your lungs, muscles stiffening as you stare at him, heat washing your cheeks. “What…?” His eyes seem to almost glow with anticipation, and he pushes up from his chair. The space between you is gobbled up in a single stride, then his hands are resting heavily around your hips, pressing close between your thighs. “Want to make it fun, don’t you?” He drawls, watching you intently.
You dip your head again, cheeks heating, but he lightly grips your jaw, raising your chin. “Go on,” he murmurs, eyes scanning your features hungrily. “Make the hunt good.”
Arousal licks between your legs, but then he steps back, and you watch him curiously.
Azriel merely steps aside, encouraging you to go. “Hide.”
Heat sparks in the pit of your belly, and you’re hopping off his desk, grabbing your top, receiving a firm smack on the ass as you leave. “I’ll know if you don’t try hard enough,” he calls after you, voice being carried on those shadows, speeding you along.
First, you stop at your bedroom, but no—too obvious. Next is the kitchen, but nowhere to hide. Next is the study, and you sneak in, checking to see if you could fit under the desk. No way. But there’s a set of keys laying half hidden beneath some papers, and you smile to yourself.
Silently, you slide the key into the one remaining lock on the back door—having watched the other six come off over the years. Until just one remains. You catch it as it clicks open, careful not to make a sound as you open the door.
And hurry out into the night.
————
Toes curl in excitement as you settle your legs either side of the broad trunk, feet dirty from scaling the large tree. But now you’re up here, hidden, and have a good view of a few of the windows leading into your house.
Watch as he checks the bedroom first—he definitely would have found you there. Then the washroom, a few rooms you can’t see, the kitchen… He disappears for a while, and you assume he’s checking the study. Excitement thrills down your spine as you watch him search for you. Is this how he felt all those years? Secretly observing your activities?
It’s exhilarating.
When he reappears in the bedroom, his shadows are darker, writhing around his wings. He’s begun to figure you’re not in the house—he must not’ve seen the lock yet. You smile to yourself, satisfied with your efforts.
His movements drop their leisurely pace, sharpening to something more brutal. Lethally efficient as he checks each room again, going through the lovely house.
When the ground shakes slightly, you can guess he’s found the opened lock—guessed you’ve escaped out into the world. Returned to where he plucked you from.
Azriel prowls out into the garden, hazel eyes flicking left and right, scanning for movement, and you hold your breath. His nostrils flare, and he moves forward, shadows hunting close to the ground. He reaches the base of the tree, and comes up short. Your scent disappears from the ground.
He’s still. Quiet.
Then he begins muttering to himself. Your name, over and over. A strange spell being woven as he chants it repeatedly under his breath. Hands tighten to fists at his side, shadows writhing, and you can feel his agitation from below.
You watch, curiously. You’ve not seen him like this in a long time.
So you grip a pinecone, and drop it over the edge.
Immediately he stops, going silent. Staring at the cone at his feet. His gaze snaps up, razor-sharp hazel slicing into you, and you freeze. Cold, glittering fury dances in his eyes.
Excitement heats your body, hands gripping the trunk as you swing your leg over the side. Then tip off the edge.
His eyes widen, instantly moving to catch you, shadows springing up to soften your fall, and you feel it as his strong arms wrap protectively beneath you. Pressing you to his body. His grip is tight—possessive, and you nestle closer. “What d’you think?” You mumble, pulling back to peer up at him.
“I thought you’d gone,” he mutters, tips of his fingers tightening on you, before loosening, allowing you to settle your feet on the ground. “You know you’re not allowed out here,” he reminds roughly, hand settling on your waist, spanning the width easily.
Your hands settle on his chest, feeling the beat of his heart against his rib cage. How fast and hard it’s pumping.
“You told me to make it good,” you murmur, “didn’t I do good?”
“I thought you’d gone,” he repeats with devastating softness. Maybe you shouldn’t have let it go on for that long. “I thought you’d gone,” he says sharply, squeezing your waist. “I’m here,” you say softly, pressing into him. “I haven’t gone any—”
“I thought you’d runaway,” he mutters, a little frenzied. “I thought you’d been pretending. That you’d succeeded in escaping from me.”
You brow furrows, “Azriel, I’m right here…”
He shakes his head. “You shouldn’t have come out here.”
You peer up at him, staring at his beautiful features. How could you ever run away from him?
Gently, you pry your hands beneath his own, linking your fingertips together. Step back a little. “Maybe I was trying to escape,” you taunt softly. “Maybe I’ve gotten bored of you, and want something else.” His face goes white with rage, and you spin on your feet, turning to run for the house.
You don’t even get a single step before his hand has brutally gripped the base of your neck, yanking you back to him. You whimper at the roughness, and he marks the sound eagerly. “Want to repeat that, pet?” He growls quietly, keeping you pinned to the spot.
Teeth prod into your lower lip, his gaze darkening.
“Maybe I was trying to run away,” you repeat, skin prickling beneath the intensity of his attention. Centuries of predatory training zeroing in, on you. “Are you trying to provoke me? Is that it?” He snarls. “Think that’s a good idea, pet?”
“I’m not your pet, Azriel.”
His eyes gleam with cold fury, anticipation burning icily. “No?”
You shake your head. “No.”
Canines flash beneath the moonlight, and then his shadows have encompassed you. The weightless sensation overtakes you, then your feet are again on firm ground. You flinch as something leathery wraps around your throat, tightening until it fits snugly. A collar.
Metal snaps, and you know he’s just clipped on the lead.
Azriel gives a firm tug, making you stumble forward, hissing at the pressure around your throat.
“I think someone’s gotten too comfortable with her position,” he growls lowly, jaw tense, shadows thick and writhing at your feet. “Needs some reminding who’s in charge of her, huh?” A shiver trills down your spine, and you press your bare thighs together. Needing the friction. “Isn’t that right?”
The tears arise on their own, barely even needing to be summoned.
His grip tightens on the leash, eyes flickering with arousal at the sight of your damp lashes. “If you don’t want your role of pet, then by all means, spit on it,” he drawls softly. Menacingly. “Entitled brat, aren’t you?”
He lands a harsh slap to your cheek, tugging roughly on the lead again to keep you steady. “If you won’t comply as a pet,” he snarls softly, “then you’ll obey as a slave.”
A whimper slips from your lips at that, heat turning liquid in you belly. His brow quirks, lips tilting up at their edges, “like that?” Breath trembles from your lips, legs turning weak with arousal.
“Azriel…” you whisper desperately. The heat is too much. You need him to relieve it.
“So desperate,” he laughs softly. “I haven’t even begun on you.”
Then he’s roughly guiding you back, shoving you against a wooden wall, shackling your wrists in chains, shadows copying the movement on your ankles. The leash hangs limp as he steps away, brushing over your breasts, grazing your thighs, and you bow from the board.
Azriel tuts lowly, retreating into the dark dungeon-like basement, allowing his shadows to play with you in the meantime. They skate up your thighs, wrapping over your hips, slithering up your spine. Gliding beneath your shirt. Pinching your nipples.
A breathless whimper slips from your lips as they twist and flick, pressing against the teal silk between your legs. Winding with enough pressure to feel good, but not enough to give any meaningful stimulation. Head tips back against the wall, eyes fluttering closed as they teasingly circle your clit, more grazing your stomach, keeping you confused from where they’ll next come from.
Your lips part, hips trying to grind down upon them, but they move with you, refusing to come any closer. You nearly cry out in desperation.
You flinch when scarred fingers roughly push aside your soaked underwear, running something rubbery but firm through the wetness. Coating it. You attempt to peer down, but can’t get a good glimpse. Can hardly think straight with how desperately you need him.
Breath is shoved from your lungs as he pushes the object inside of you. Dreadfully slowly. In and out. A few inches at a time. When it’s fully in, he moves your underwear back into place, roughly tugging the strings further up your hips, shoving the toy deeper.
A moan bursts from your lips, spine arching from the circular board as you tighten around it, trying to keep it pressing against that wonderful spot.
“I was saving this for a reward,” he murmurs beside your ear, fingers between your legs, prone to push it further inside. “But I suppose it can double as a punishment, huh?”
Pleasure weighs on your eyelids, barely able to keep them open long enough to look at him. “Can you even remember my name, slave?” He asks, amusement clear in his question. You blink wearily up at him, begging for stimulation. All you get is a rough pat on the cheek, followed by his fingers pressing the toy up into you.
A strangled moan arises from your throat, teeth sinking into your lower lip as you try to silence yourself. He jerks roughly on your leash in reprimand. “None of that,” he tuts, gripping you jaw so you’re forced to look at him. “I want to enjoy this.”
Then he retreats again, and you sink into the wooden board, weight resting heavily on your arms that are still pulled taut either side of your head.
“Eyes up here,” he commands, a sultry roughness to his order. Heat buzzes between your thighs, but you force yourself to meet his gaze. And you nearly forget how to breathe.
Cold, hard steel catches the dim light. No more than an elegant slice of silver amongst his shadows. Azriel’s lips twist into a smile, deftly spinning the short blade in his hands, skilled with practice, flexible with familiarity. There are more at his side, piled on a table, all the size of small daggers.
“Azriel,” you breathe. “What—”
The blade flies from his hand, embedding in the wood to the right of your body. Too close for comfort. Especially because you know he could hit you if he really wanted, and you don’t know how close he’s willing to get to satisfy his desires. You cringe away from the Illyrian steel, but the chains hold you fast, keeping you pinned to the wall like an insect to a dissection table. Ready for him to play with; experiment on.
“Better keep still,” he mocks, picking up another dagger. “Unless you want a few scars to show for later?” His lips twist into a wider smile, “a reminder of your disobedience, perhaps?” The blade flies, lodging in the wood a few centimetres above your head. You yelp, dipping your head as your blood runs cold.
Another dagger has already left his hands before you can look up, slamming into the wood beside your right breast. A puff of cold air hisses at the skin, practically able to feel the blade if you tip your body a little to the right. It’s piercing the cloth of your top, just another restriction to your movement.
Azriel laughs, flipping a blade in his hand, marking your aroused discomfort. How you squirm.
“Do you regret sneaking out yet? In the night, where anything could have happened to you?” He asks, shoulders tensing at the reminder. “Do you understand how weak you are, huh? How delicate?” He throws another blade, this one nicking your cheek, as if to demonstrate how easily you can be hurt. A whimper is strung from your lips, the light stinging making you want to pull your thighs together.
“Mm sorry,” you breathe, lower lip wobbling. “Mm sorry, Azriel…”
He laughs at that, “better.”
Picks up another dagger. “But too late.”
Steel slices against your hip, slicing the teal string on your underwear, exposing your skin as blood beads delicately. Azriel licks his lips at the sight, a quick flick of his tongue that has you fantasising about everything else he could be doing to you. “Azriel please,” you whimper, vision blurring. “I didn’t mean to upset you… Wanted to make it fun.”
A rough chuckle sounds, the metallic scape of yet another blade sliding into his hand, “I’m having plenty of fun.” Steel flashes in the dim light, making you squint. “Are you not enjoying this?” Teeth push into your lower lip, blinking away the dampness, “want you, instead.” Azriel’s lips quirk, taking in the way your hips shift, tightening around the toy needfully. He targets the other string flawlessly, rewarding you with a matching nick to your hip.
“Yeah? You want me to be inside of you rather than that?” He asks, pleased with your answer. Though not satisfied enough to give you what you want. “Want me to unchain you so I can stuff you with my cock instead? Fuck you ’til you’re going limp in my arms? Is that what you’d like?”
“Yes!” You pant, tightening around the toy desperately. You’re so wet it’s slipping out, no longer kept tucked inside by your underwear.
“Azriel…! Azriel, I can’t— Az!”
Wood splinters as he targets just between your thighs, a breath below your skin. The toy perches atop the flat of the blade—having been thrown sideways. Your chest rises up and down, sweat making your skin gleam in the dim light. Things tremble, weak from the wild ride, adrenaline singing in your blood.
Light catches on his canines as he grins, slightly feral, slowly prowling toward you. “So obedient, aren’t you?” He drawls, towering over you as he rests his hands atop the circular board. Your spine bows from the wood, arching in attempts to get the toy to touch more of those sensitive spots. His grin widens, “want it a little deeper?” He asks mockingly, eyes gleaming with dark pleasure. You nod your head, cheeks hot like the rest of your body.
Teeth flash in the light, and he applies pressure to the board.
You scream as you’re spun upside down, so your head is in line with his boots, feet in the air. Dizziness crashes into you, tipping your sense of balance, warping your sense of direction as he laughs distantly. Fingertips brush down your inner thigh, dancing over the skin, breath grazing teasingly.
“So desperate,” he drawls. “Can you beg for it, hm? Think you can string the words together for me?” You blink hazily as he crouches down, peering at your confused form.
“Azriel…” you manage, then squeeze your eyes shut at the pressure. So hot. Blood rushing downward. “Azriel, please…”
“Please what?” He asks leisurely. “What do you want me to do, pet?” His thumb brushes over your lower lip, pulling it from your teeth, small scars from where you’ve bitten over the years indented into the pillowy flesh. He grins, leaning forward.
A deluded moan drags from your throat as he presses his canines into your upper lip, tugging on it slightly. Your hands pull on the chains, desperate to touch him as he plays with you, toy beginning to sink back in, but it’s neither fast, nor deep enough.
“Put it in me,” you beg, features scrunching with desperation, eyes squeezing shut against the pressure, brows furrowing. “Azriel, please…put it deeper.” Canines pierce your lip, something thick and rich bleeding onto your teeth, then he’s lapping it up. Landing a rewarding smack to your cheek before he stands. “That’s better,” he chuckles, finger brushing between your thighs, making to push them apart. “That’s much better.”
Breath drains from your lungs as he pushes the toy all the way in, gravity helping it sink deep into your heat. Hot liquid spills, dripping from your eyes up over your brows, trickling into your hair. Knees shake, hips bucking as he keeps the toy pressed inside of you, enjoying the view. “You having fun? Enjoying this?”
He pushes against the toy, making so it presses more into one side, circling the pressure, making you weep. “Yes,” you moan, “yes, yes, yes.”
Azriel halts his movements.
Before you know it he’s landed a smack to your clit.
You squeak, jerking against the shackles, to no avail. “Why the fuck are you enjoying it, huh?” He spits, landing another smack to your tender sex. “Did you forget this is supposed to be a punishment? You’re not meant to enjoy it.” Another smack, and tears slide up over your face, saliva wetting the corners of your mouth as you weep.
“No, we can’t have that, can we?” He mutters, grinning to himself as he smacks harder, making you scream, muscles flinching as you writhe against the chains. “How will you learn your lesson if it doesn’t hurt, huh?”
“Please, please, please! I’ve learnt it! I know better!” You cry out, hands balling into fists against the stimulation.
Relief sweeps in as he hold off for a moment, “is that right? Think you’ve learned? Think you know better now?” He presses the toy back in, having been slightly pushed out when you were tensing for impact. You nod your head frantically, “I swear! I’ll never do it again— Please, Azriel!”
He hums to himself, sounding satisfied. Leaning down, his mouth latches over your cunt, tongue flicking over your clit soothingly. Tasting your arousal. Azriel groans at the flavour, sealing his lips over your tender sex, suckling gently, wet muscle teasing the taut bud eagerly. Scarred hands grip behind your thighs, holding you still as you try to buck for more.
You’re murmuring prayers under your breath, chanting them desperately as he plays with you, a cat toying with its mouse—batting it back and forth between its paws. He changes the angle of the toy, and your mouth drops open, silent moans being drawn out, one after the other as pleasure builds and coils in the pit of your stomach.
But then he’s pulling away, leaving you hot and messy, slick coating the skin of your thighs, sex soft and tender from his brutal attention. Heart pounds in your chest as he unlocks your ankles, shadows keeping you pinned to the board as he does the same for your wrists. “Think we’re done, pet?” He murmurs, allowing your body to carefully fold over itself, so you tip over, shadows making sure you don’t hurt yourself as you land on the floor.
Your head is spinning from the movement, cunt aching for more attention, and your legs automatically spread as you attempt to push the toy back inside. Grinding against the floor, but it’s too low, too far away, and your thighs won’t spread wide enough. Whimpers spill from your lips in frustration, wanting that pleasure, riled up from the phantom lick of his tongue over your clit. How good it felt.
Azriel growls roughly, shadows collecting your leash, returning it to his hand as he tugs roughly, drawing your attention back to him, instead of the toy you’re pitifully trying to steal your pleasure from. “Come here,” he orders sharply, again tugging on your collar, causing you to choke.
Clumsily, you crawl forward, stopping to kneel before him.
“Feeling good, slave?” He asks, keeping your leash taut so you’re forced to tilt your chin upward, peering at his towering frame. You dip your head mindlessly, too dizzy and yearning for pleasure to properly think. He chuckles, “yeah? You liked that?” Again you nod, lips parting as your hand slips between your legs to press the toy back inside. Fingers come away wet, slick dripping down and onto the floor.
“But you still need more, don’t you?” He purrs, hazel eyes gleaming in the dim light, “so greedy. Greedy and gluttonous. Such a brat.” Whimpers drag from your lips, nodding your head dumbly along with everything he’s saying. He chuckles at you.
“Want to feel good now?” He asks, shadows cupping your jaw to keep your attention on him. When you don’t answer, he smacks you, cheek stinging with the impact. “Answer. Or do you want me to chain you back up and give that little cunt some rougher treatment?” Your eyes nearly roll to the back of your skull, but you shake your head in apology. “Mm sorry…please don’t…want to feel good, please…”
His lips quirk—he has you wrapped around his finger. Your pleasure dependant on him. You need him. Without him, you can never feel good.
Azriel takes pity on you, large hand landing atop your head, threading through your hair. “You’re going to be good? Gonna be good for me now?” He asks, grinning when you nod eagerly. Eyes gleam maliciously, and he tugs on your collar, pulling you flush against his leg, arms clinging onto him for stability.
“Go on then,” he urges, shifting one foot to be between your thighs, knocking your knees further apart. “Take your pleasure.”
Relief crashes into you, and you move to pull away, wanting to lie on your back—give him a nice view; a performance as you bring yourself over the edge. Only with his permission, of course.
You whimper when he tugs on your collar, making you peer up at him desperately, questioningly. Lips tip into a smirk as he taps his boot against the floor expectantly. “Go on,” he repeats softly, mockingly. “Take it.”
Teeth sink into your lower lip, hands gripping onto him desperately as your thighs spread, the toy settling against the leather. You lean your weight onto it. Eyes roll back, heat flushing your skin, taking inch after inch. His grip tightens in your hair, hand curling into a fist as he keeps your head tilted upward—so he can watch your blissed out expression as your features contort. All because of him.
Male satisfaction licks up his spine, cock stiffening in his trousers, rubbing against the seam.
You’ve already been worked to the brink, coil so close to snapping, it’ll take minimal effort to bring you that ocean of pleasure. Slowly, you wind your hips over him, unable to do much more with the depth of the stimulation, how deep the goodness is sinking. You wish it was his cock, wish his hands were roughly gripping your hips, arms bound behind your back so you’re completely at his mercy.
Speed up the motions, hips bucking as you grip onto him desperately, his hand fisted in your hair. Azriel watches as you tug your lip between your teeth, brows curving upward, drool shining at the edges of your mouth. Cheeks and lashes damp with tears. Skin hot to the touch. Lips part in pleasure, tongue flicking out briefly. “That’s it,” he goads, shadows gripping your hips to urge you on. “That’s it, take it. Take it from me. Be a good girl and take your pleasure.”
Eyes roll back, lids fluttering as you press your chest flush against him, gripping onto the muscle of his thigh as your hips drag back and forth in sharp, sporadic jerks. “Go on, a little more— That’s it. So good. So good, aren’t you? So well behaved.” The praise sings down your spine, and pleasure bursts across your skin, fracturing your conscious. Hips buck wildly, almost automatically, riding out the euphoria, his fist tightening in your hair. Keeping you still so he can watch as you cum.
His name chants on your lips over and over, eyes filling with tears at the pleasure as you press tighter to him, clinging onto him like he’s some kind of prophet. Some kind of saviour. You bow into his touch, desperate for more, to have more of his skin against your own.
“Azriel…” you moan.
It’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard. Never failing to make him dizzy with lust, enraptured with the movements of your body, how you’re kneeling and riding him so desperately. Like you really do need him. His temperature rises.
The aftershocks fade, leaving you panting quietly, relaxing your body, shifting off his boot. Thin strands of silvery slick connect the leather to your cunt, creating a sloppy mess. Azriel tuts softly, arousal zapping straight to your clit at the sound alone. “What a mess you’ve made,” he drawls, hand having released your hair. “Gotten my boot all dirty, haven’t you? What a filthy thing you are.”
Colour tints his skin, clearly pleased with the results—how wet you are.
“Think I should make you clean it up, huh?” He jerks on your leash, shadows tightening the pressure of your collar ever so deliciously. “Make you lick it up with that filthy mouth of yours?” He drawls, enjoying the idea. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, and he chuckles. “No…I think you’d like that too much. Pretty whore.”
A lovely whimper is drawn from your chest as he releases your collar in favour of tossing you over his shoulder, shadows keeping the toy tucked comfortably inside of you. You whine and writhe against him, wanting to feel more of him, have more of him. He lands a harsh spank to your backside, making you yelp, then wiggle more.
Azriel laughs lowly at your antics, rewarding your struggle with a harder smack, leaving the skin stinging in his wake. He carries you all the way through your shared home, taking you up each flight of stairs, leading you up from the basement and into your bedroom. Gently lowers you down his body as he sits, toy still tucked away deep inside. Legs spread over his lap, his arm winding around your waist to keep your chest flush against him.
Fingers thread through your hair, jerking your head back so he can stare you down, those hazel eyes enough to have arousal gathering all over again as you anticipate the awful things he’s going to do to you. “You regret going outside, don’t you, pet. Not going to do it again.” You nod your head along with him, showing you’re sorry. His mouth slides wide in a vulpine smile, “but what about those other things you said, huh? Think I’m just going to let those go?”
You whimper, rolling your hips against him, pleading for him to get inside of you. Fill you up.
He laughs darkly at your attempts to distract him, bucking up against you—let you think he’s forgiven you. But his hold remains tight in your hair, and he watches you swallow against the collar, shadows unclipping the leash. “You said something cruel to me earlier. Do you remember what it was?” He asks, smiling as you struggle and squirm in his lap. Shake your head in response.
Azriel hums, hand moving to grip your throat lightly, holding you gently between his fingers. “You said you wanted to look for something else. That you’d gotten bored, and you wanted something better.” The grip tightens, not enough to make you choke, but enough for you to feel the pressure. You squirm more, shaking your head in denial. “I didn’t mean it…” you beg, hands desperate to touch him, to hold him.
He tilts his head in mock concern, “no? You were lying?”
Teeth bite into your lip, dipping your head in confirmation.
Lips quirk. “That right? You’re a dirty little liar?”
Vision blurs, but you nod, grinding down on him in attempts to make reparations.
He chuckles lowly, deep in his throat. “You made me very upset with that comment. Made me think you wanted someone else. That I wasn’t good enough for you.” He grips harder, breath rasping out, pulling your mouth to brush against his own. “Am I good enough for you, pet?”
“Yes,” you whisper, trying to nod your head. “You’re so good. So good to me, Azriel. So perfect.”
One of his brows quirks. “Perfect? I don’t know about that, pet.”
“You are,” you insist, hardly more than a whine. “Best thing in the world. You’re perfect. Everything.” Lips part in a grin that’s filled with male satisfaction. He releases your throat, in favour of going to his belt. “Want to show me how perfect I am, pet?”
Heat washes down your spine, and you’re nodding frantically, quickly shuffling down his body as he pulls himself free of his leathers. You stare up from between his legs, knelt on the ground, the toy still tucked away, balancing on the wooden boards. Mouth waters as he touches himself, beautiful skin tinted with colour, flushed with arousal.
You don’t notice his shadows slinking away, trailing back down to the basement.
A hand slides through your hair, and it’s all the encouragement you need to be rising up—feet keeping the toy nice and deep—following his silent instruction. You open your mouth over him, and he groans from the back of his throat. You could cry at the taste of him, how right it feels to have him on your tongue, pushing your jaw lower. How lovely his skin is, so soft, and hot. Slightly salty, and tasing so distinctly of himself.
Fingers slip between your legs, rolling over your clit, tightening around the toy.
“That’s a good girl,” he drawls, pushing you down onto his cock, hips bucking upward. “So good. So good at making me feel good. What you were made for. Isn’t that right, pet?” You moan onto him, grinding down, fingers flicking and rolling over the sensitive bud.
Free hand grips his base, pumping what you can’t fit, tongue flicking over the slit in his head. Landing soft kisses to it, and the space just below, suckling lightly, before taking him entirely again. As entirely as you can, anyway.
Enjoying the process, saliva dripping from your mouth, lubricating the slide up and down. How he sometimes cuts off your airways if you take him too far down. How he twitches in response to the slight gags. Loving every second of it.
“Choose a number between one and five,” he orders lowly.
Brow narrows as you make to pull up, but his hand is already resting at the back of your head in warning. You still as his tip, tongue circling again, then you dip as far down as you can go. One…two…three times.
Azriel hums, then a faint clicking noise sounds through the room.
You writhe, muscles spasming, trying to tug away from him as the vibrations hit your sensitive walls. His hand keeps you in place, shadows returning from their adventure down to the basement. Eyes squeeze shut at the pleasure, the stimulation, and the darkness wraps around the base of the toy, slowly beginning to drag it in and out.
Tears build at your lashes, and you take him back down your throat eagerly, spine arching so it touches all kinds of spots. Azriel laughs softly as he watches you, how easily you bend to his will, curving and arching to fit to the shape of his pleasure. Stroking himself through the skin of your cheek, thumb skimming gently.
Another click sounds, and the vibrations change to a steady pulse rhythm, conditioning you to tighten moments after the sensation. His shadows pick up speed, pushing in faster, and harder. Free hand leaves from between your legs to grip onto him, having to steady yourself from the stimulation.
You moan again and again onto his cock, wanting him to feel as good as you are, lapping at the salty moisture that gathers at his tip. Darkness replaces your fingers, playing with your clit, running in tight, repetitive circles, making the pressure in the pit of your belly double…coil over itself again and again.
“That’s good,” he encourages, breathlessly, getting off on seeing how desperate you are. How your hips push back against his shadows, how you moan onto him, dripping onto the floor. “Keep going, pet. Making me feel so good. Show me how much you love me. Worship everything you can get that lying fucking mouth of yours on,” he snarls roughly.
Heat builds at the degradation, coil tightening as you take him as far as you can, nails biting into his leathers as you push your limits. His shadows work in tandem to your efforts, licking over your clit, flicking and swirling over your nipples, tugging on them lightly. Pinching, like he’s attached clips to them. He knows how sensitive you are…all those secret spots he’d discovered.
Azriel curses under his breath, low and vicious. “Do you remember how hard you tried to escape me that first time, pet? How you cried, and screamed? Screamed until that lovely throat of yours was raw?” He drawls, bucking his hips in time with the thrusts of the toy, vibrations making you see stars.
All you can manage is a heady moan, tears dripping down from pleasure, nearly numb with euphoria.
“And look at you now,” he laughs breathlessly, “all good and broken in. Told you I’d have you trained. But you didn’t believe me, did you? Thought you’d make it, huh?” Arousal sparks in the pit of your belly, and you widen the stance of your legs, spreading your thighs to allow it to hit deeper. And it does. It does so well.
Eyes roll back into your skull, hands trembling with the force of your orgasm. He twitches in your mouth at the pure pleasure in your scent, how overpowering it is. Strong enough to tip him into his own high.
Liquid pleasure spills into your mouth, and you nearly go mad. His taste coats your tongue, spurting hot between your lips, spilling down your throat as you lick and lap and suck: worshipping as he’d told you to.
Shadows tighten around your clit, pinching your nipples, tugging on them as he targets every part that you love, succinctly and with mind-breaking accuracy. Practiced precision.
Pleasure overwhelms you, feeling so wonderful as the vibrations crash into you over and over, made stronger as your sensitive walls flutter around the toy, clamping down, forcing it tighter.
The last thing you remember is how he’d pulled you from his cock, spit and cum mixing together to create silvery, milky threads, making your lips glisten. The way those last few spurts had decorated your cheeks, nose and mouth, marking you as his own.
And then your world dimmed, winking out.
————
He continues working on you long after you pass out, grinding his hips sloppily against your own. When you’re passed out, and unaware, you’re inanimate. A pretty accessory for his cock.
Cum gleams over your abdomen, cunt glistening from hours of use, release mixed with your slick. Even while you’re asleep, your body continues to please him, urging him to continue, to pursue that sick pleasure.
Azriel doesn’t mind how unresponsive you are; he gets to paint you as he pleases.
His fingers graze softly over your abdomen, muscle fluttering beneath the teasing brush, tensing as they glide through cum. He groans, cock stiffening expectantly as he scoops release up from your cunt, gathering loadfuls before raising them to your lips. He twitches as the milky liquid splatters over your mouth, trickling over your tongue, making you wake suddenly. Spluttering as he touches the back of your throat.
The scent of his arousal spears into your mind, and your body heats in response, so ready for him to work on you. So ready to submit. Tongue plays with his taste, peering down at yourself as sensations crest over you.
Azriel sits back patiently, allowing you time to catalogue the bruises; the devastation.
Bite-marks litter your thighs, the indentation of his teeth stamped so deep you hope it scars. Bruises hurt on your throat and collar bones, on the space beneath your jaw, and you raise your fingers to brush the intimate skin. Your breasts ache, and you know he’s been having fun with them: pinching, flicking, biting. Suckling the sensitive peaks while he no doubt stuffed you full, cock buried deep inside your tender sex.
Whimpers draw from your lips as you take in the results of his desire—how he’s inflicted his hunger upon your body. How he’ll continue to abuse every spot he likes until… There is no end.
Tongue flicks over your lips, and you settle onto your hands and knees, crawling to him. He may have removed the leash, but he’s still dragging you forward, invisibly connected to him.
“Azriel…” his name rasps from your lips, throat raw from use, need scraping against your skin. Hazel eyes gleam as he watches you crawl forward on shaky limbs—how you drag your tongue up the underside of his cock, set on worshipping him with as much devotion as he does with you. A quiet groan falls from his mouth as you rise up his body, breasts dragging over his chest. He doesn’t miss the flicker of pain across your features as they scrunch, how reactive you are, so sensitive to touch now you’ve been given chance to recover.
Mouth opens over his own, sharing the erotic taste of him across his tongue, revelling in how it strokes against yours. His hands lightly grip your waist, fitting perfectly over the already formed bruises, sliding into place. Tenderly, his tongue flicks out over your lower lip, lapping up his cum from your skin, gathering it in his mouth as his hand slides lower, fingers dragging over your entrance to collect your wetness.
Pleasure lights your body as he laps at his own fingers, indulging in your flavour.
His large hand grips your jaw gently, tipping you upward so you’re facing him. Taps the skin of your cheek twice with the pad of his forefinger. Open.
Hot liquid bubbles in your abdomen as he spits between your parted lips, digits sliding in soon after to press his taste into your tongue; mark every part of you with his scent, until you’re covered in him. You whimper around his fingers, hand wrapping around his cock as you move to pleasure him.
Azriel snarls softly over your mouth, and you retract your touch—even as he pulls you flush against his torso, cock pressing into your tummy so tantalisingly. Teasingly. You whine.
“Azriel…” you breathe, words muffled from his fingers, and pride flickers in his gaze. “What is it?” He asks softly, lips lifting at the edges. You could sigh with relief at that expression; you know what it means. It means lazy, leisurely. It means taking his time—gently, subtle bucks of his hips to stimulate you slowly. Warm you up again.
“I want you,” you plead, hands pressing to his chest. He allows you to guide him back, wings flaring as they press into the mattress. “You’ve had me all night,” he smirks, pleased you’re craving him as intensely as he is you. Mutual obsession. Tangible need.
“It’s not enough,” you mumble, hands skimming the tops of his thighs, eyes torn between laying on his own, and lapping up more of his cock. “I need to have you inside me.” Cock twitches, and you tighten in response, thighs parting over his hips, settling so you’re atop him. “You’ve had me inside you plenty of times tonight,” he reminds softly, eyes glazing with lust, darkening as his hand brushes your abdomen. Knowing how much cum he’s pumped int you.
Lower lip pushes out, brows curving together, “you know that doesn’t count.” Fingers press into the padded muscle of his stomach, slicked with sweat, and you want to trace each one with your tongue. “Want to have you inside, and to feel it,” you moan, guiding his tip to your entrance.
Azriel watches, entranced. Once again reminded at how obedient you’ve become.
“Open your mouth.”
You do so without question.
Lips fashion themselves into a smile. “Close.”
Your mouth closes.
“Good girl.”
Heat flutters between your legs.
Hands gently span your waist, urging you to sink your weight onto him, settle on his cock. You oblige happily.
Eyes roll back into your skull, and you hear him murmur soft words of reassurance under his breath as you sway. Temporarily rendered immobile. He steadies you, waiting for you to be ready for stimulation.
He’s had his fun, had his time to play with your body. Find his pleasure in it. He knows it’s your turn, and he’s happy to let you have it. You’ve worked hard for him, satisfied him repeatedly. Now he wants you to explore him all over again, swirl your hips until you find a pace you like, touch yourself as you want while he supports from the background.
You do just that.
Slowly, you lift off him, thighs trembling with the effort. Then you slide back down, feeling the push of his hip bone digging into the softness of your flesh. Thoughts block out of your mind, pushed away by his cock as it presses into your sensitive walls; quiet whimpers cry from your chest.
Legs shift out from under you as you yield control, unable to lever yourself up and down as you fully rest your weight on him. Leaning back against his legs, bent at the knee to support you, your eyes fluter closed, content to bask in the fullness of him.
His shadows stroke over your head, providing the comfort you seek. Warmth floods your chest at his caring nature.
“Azriel?” You mumble softly, words subdued under the weight of pleasure. He hums quietly in response, hands grazing the tops of your thighs as he watches you. “Tell me a story,” you request.
A chuckle rumbles out of him, and you feel it warm your insides, making you tighten around him. “What sort of story do you want, pretty thing?” You could melt at the nickname. Reduce yourself to liquid to splash all over him, saturate his skin.
Teeth bite into the pillowy silkiness of your lower lip, toes curling as you drag your hips forward by a few centimetres. “Tell me how you fell in love with me,” you request softly. Hands settle at your waist, heating your sides, thumbing the skin softly. “Tell me every thought you had… Every moment you watched me… Tell me all of it.”
“It’s a long and dreadful tale I’m afraid,” he laughs deeply, “I think it would sour the mood.”
“Then tell me one that won’t,” you breathe. “I want to know you more. Want to know everything.” His cock touches a lovely place inside of you, and you focus on softly targeting it, rolling your hips over him.
Azriel pauses, and even with your eyes closed you can feel the weight of his gaze, how assuring it is; how adoring. “Okay,” he sighs, giving in, stroking your thighs, “just one.”
Your lips tip at the edge, one set of fingers linking with his own as he squeezes back.
“It was pretty early on—before I really grasped how deep the obsession ran,” he begins, the rough timbre of his voice curling your toes. “I spotted you coming back from a night out. You were clearly drunk, and stumbling all over the place—I was surprised you made it to your door without falling flat on your face,” he says, fingers tracing patters across your skin.
“I remember knowing you hadn’t locked your door, and I was angry. Angry you didn’t take care of yourself. For being so reckless,” he continues, tapping lightly at your inner thigh—reprimanding you for all those decades ago. Nearly seventy years past since that infatuation took root. “I remember thinking I should use my shadows to give you a scare. Teach you a lesson for being so unaware. You desperately needed to learn to protect yourself, and you weren’t going to start unless something pushed you into action,” he laughs, realising how firmly in your thrall he’d been even back then. Before he was even fully aware of it.
“But when my shadows got inside, you were already undressing, and I couldn’t move.”
Eyes flutter open, and you meet his dark hazel gaze, something far deeper than love dancing in his features. Something bordering on violent, glittering with possession. Protection.
“I doubt you even noticed how dark it got in your room that night, despite the faelight,” he says softly, and your pulse spikes, knowing how closely he watched over you for all those years. How protective he is by nature. “I later learned whenever you came back like that, it often meant whoever you’d chosen for the night hadn’t be worth it, choosing to stumble back to your own bed rather than wake up in theirs.” Again those impatient taps to your thigh, and your hips roll in response, soothing both of you.
“It was the first night I saw you touch yourself. And it felt wrong to watch, but you were so fascinating. I’d never seen someone enjoy themselves purely for their own satisfaction. With partners, or workers in brothels, they’re aware they’re expected to put on a show. They emphasise movements to an obscene, unbelievable degree, while you were calm and quiet.” You swirl over him, vaguely managing to call up a murky image of your bedroom. Picturing the darkness that filled it, and you hadn’t even noticed.
Maybe you’d known, innately, he was not there to harm you, but to love you.
“It was entirely solitary; a completely private moment I was witnessing, and it was an unimaginable weight off my shoulders,” he says, circling the tops of your thighs, heat building and coiling in the pit of your belly. “For those few hours, I was no one. Gloriously free to simply observe,” his lips quirk ruefully. “Until it wasn’t enough to just watch.”
Breathing shallows, chest rising up and down with anticipation. Wanting to know where he took the irreversible step from the light. Straying from his own path, to collide with yours.
“You came back again, drunk and stumbling over yourself, and I knew enough by this point to know you wouldn’t remember a thing,” he says, voice growing softer with each confession. “So that night, when you were on the cusp of sleep, I helped push you over the edge.”
“You didn’t even struggle,” he murmurs, breathless. “Didn’t even try to put up a fight. Just waited patiently as I pushed your legs apart; pulled the silk from your hips. So lovely and docile. So perfect.” Colour flushes his skin and he can’t help the slight buck as he presses himself deeper into your cunt.
“Go on,” you urge, panting quietly. “Tell me more.”
A phantom smile plays on his mouth as he remembers, “there were moments I think you may have fallen asleep, then woken up when your body remembered what was happening. Like you were desperately fighting it off for me, trying to be there for me.” He huffs a laugh, squeezing your hand.
“I remember how you arched at the first stroke of my tongue, how your fingers tightened in the sheets, like you wanted to touch me but didn’t have the energy to manage. So I held you with one hand, just like this. To make sure you didn’t suddenly jolt awake; that you felt comfortable. So your body wouldn’t warn you about the violation.”
“You were nearly perfect, except you didn’t know how to attribute the pleasure, so you didn’t call out my name when you came on my tongue. I watched you writhe, how your eyes widened then slammed shut, squeezing together as you gripped my hand though it all. Like you were worried you’d be washed away in the torrent. You were absolutely breathtaking in that moment; every moment after.”
“That night you became mine. You never knew—I suppose until now—but you responded to me that night. You felt it. I know you did. Your body reacted to me, and you squeezed me back. Despite the scarring, and the burns. You held on like you needed me,” he breathes, panting deeply as his stomach muscles flex in the dim light, sweat glistening across his skin.
“You claimed me too, that night. And I couldn’t resist going back.”
“I think you grew to expect me. You would return from a night out reeking of alcohol, get inside your home, pass out on your bed, and within a few minutes, you would be soaked. Dripping onto your sheets, waiting for me. Spread out and perfect. You wanted me as much as I wanted you, yet you didn’t even know who I was.” His hand squeezes yours, and you know you won’t hold on much longer.
“I tried to stay away. For months I would be off in another court, and you consumed me. At night I would lie awake, thinking about you, wondering if you were lying in your own bed, cunt dripping for me, waiting for me to soothe the ache. Sometimes I would be gone for so long your body forgot how to behave when I returned.” His words grow rougher, more agitated.
“So I made sure you remembered.”
“That first week when I returned from a mission, I wouldn’t sleep. I spent my time watching you, shadows happy to play with you again—they’ve always liked you more than anyone else. But you know that now, don’t you.”
As if listening in—which they very well might have been—the darkness writhes at your back, cresting over your shoulders and cupping your breasts delicately, swiping over your lips as you tip back into them.
“Sometimes it was nearly impossible to pull them off you. They would constrict around your thighs, tighten around your hips so you were secure beneath them. I quickly lost count of how many times they would want a turn with you, so I would let them,” he breathes, and you can feel that coil on the verge of snapping, heat sizzling beneath your skin as you squeeze him desperately. “You responded so beautifully to their kind of stimulation. And I would watch all of it.”
“Admittedly, I was a little careless. But you never noticed, so I suppose it doesn’t matter if I was a little sloppy here and there. If I got you a little messy, too.”
“It was rare I would be gone for longer than three or four months at a time, but when those longer missions called, I would rush back to you the moment I could.” A twinge of pain has entered his voice, thinking back on how long he had to keep his love for you a secret. How you were carefully shielded from it. For years. Decades.
“And sometimes I didn’t want you to wake clean of any marks of my own. If you weren’t even going to remember, then I might as well leave some trace,” he laughs sharply, arousal dumbing your mind as his words begin to mellow out. “But those never bothered you either. Not the bite marks, or the bruises, or the ache when you thought you hadn’t taken anyone to bed that night. Not even when you woke to find cum between your legs. Or a faint taste in your mouth.”
He sighs, bucking his hips softly, and you exhale heavily.
“Did you ever fuck me?” You breathe, tightening around him at the thought. “While I was asleep, I mean. Did you ever take me before I knew you?”
Azriel shakes his head, smiling now. “No, lovely girl. I wanted to save that for you. I wanted to be with you, and for you to be fully aware when I first went inside of you. And it was torture waiting. It was cruel to make me wait all those years. All that time, and yet you never picked up on that other scent that would consistently turn up on you. Maybe you grew accustomed to it.”
Teeth push into your lower lip, and you tuck your legs back under you, once again able to move.
“The first time I had you…I’ll never forget it,” he groans, hand releasing yours in favour of gripping your hips. “You screamed so sweetly. Begged me to stop, like you hadn’t been asking for it for decades. How you were able to scream at me to stop when your legs would practically fall open for me…” he laughs, and you buck over him, quickening the pace of your swirls.
“You took me as well as I knew you would,” he groans, hands helping you rise and fall on his cock. “Took everything perfectly. Even my blade.”
Your eyes roll back, and you allow him to take control, gripping your hips tight to pound in to you. “It was just supposed to warm you up. To stretch you out so we could both enjoy it when I entered you… But then you reacted so well to it, and you had to have an orgasm before you took me. And you looked so fucking edible.” He grits out the words, and your hips stutter, jerking as pleasure brims at your lashes.
“Azriel…” you pant, tears spilling as he hits those beautiful spots, making you bounce on him. “You looked so fucking good I couldn’t believe it. And you felt even better.”
You clamp down on him, taking each buck of his cock as he drives up into you, mind going blank except for his name playing on repeat in your head. Filled with only him entirely. Nothing else would fit inside you anymore. It has to be him.
Hot cum spurts inside, and you can only imagine the mess he’s made in your heat.
How full he’s pumped you; how deep his release is.
How deep he’s burrowed his way inside of you.
Hips slow to a relaxed pace, grinding down onto him, keeping him tucked away inside of you. Refusing to release a single drop as you continue fluttering around him lightly.
Words are far out of reach, but he collects you as you sway forward, blinking away drowsiness as you settle on top of him, nestling into his chest. Nosing at his throat, licking up his flavour.
Azriel laughs quietly from deep in his chest, and it twines with his heartbeat. “You’re perfect…you know that?” Warmth fills your heart as his arms wrap around you, shadows pulling the blankets to cover you, despite being the wrong way up in the bed. What does it matter when he’s around?
“I’m perfect if you’re perfect,” you mumble back, hardly succeeding in keeping your eyes opened.
He doesn’t respond, but you can feel his heart, can hear how it picks up speed, and you know he’s happy.
Hot lips brush your head, pressing kisses into your hair as he keeps it from your face. You burrow into him deeper, pulling the sheets closer as you roll off to his side.
Azriel squeezes you again, making sure you’re as close as can be.
Neither of you would want it any other way.
Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb
Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch
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𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 (𝟏𝟖+)
𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈
[ PAIRING ] Zeke Yeager x f!reader
[ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] Another remastered oldie. No cute banner this time because I'm lazy.
[ SYNOPSIS ] Your slutty boyfriend convinces you to fuck in a nasty bar bathroom.
[ WORD COUNT ] 2.9k
[ CONTENT ] Modern AU, established relationship, dom/sub undertones, sadomasochism, exhibitionism, public sex, rough oral sex, degradation (Zeke calls you a slut, says you're dumb), cum eating, drugs (marijuana), alcohol, Zeke's pullout game is mid tbh, and there's Neopets nostalgia.
Any establishment that opted to have red lighting as an aesthetic choice never failed to put you on guard. There was nothing quite like a wannabe speakeasy to set the mood. You had sad men hiding in corners. Sad men waiting for cute girls to talk to them. Sad men who hoped their presence in a trendy, gaudy bar with old guns hung on the walls made them interesting.
You and Zeke passed by it one cold morning and you mentioned how tacky you thought those kinds of places were. You said you wanted to go ironically. And of course called your bluff and decided your next date night would occur there. You reluctantly agreed. Denying him was a near impossible task.
You were the first at the bar, a disappointment because you wanted to have some form of comfort greet you. But no, Zeke was late as always.
He was probably at home, sitting on his ugly couch, smoking his ugly weed. His perfect body laid out next to an ugly ashtray overflowing with ugly cigarette butts, watching old Jerry Springer episodes on Youtube.
There was no other place you’d rather be. You wanted to be sprawled out on top of him, your head on his chest as he dithered about class disparity in the United States.
We can laugh at Beau and Cletus all we want, but look at us. I pay for high-speed internet so I can watch this shit unfettered and make fun of their shoes. You just complained about two-day shipping not being fast enough. And you ordered, what, loose leaf chamomile tea? We’re just as embarrassing as them, maybe even more so. The difference is that we have disposable income.
On second thought maybe you were better off languishing in a faux speakeasy. The ground may have been sticky underneath your shoes, but at least you didn’t have Zeke blabbering in your ear.
“Miss me?” Zeke purred in your ear before.
“Nope, I’ve been too busy.”
“Do you expect me to believe that?”
“Yeah. I got caught up feeding my Neopet… Or if that’s not an acceptable answer, I can say I was sleeping with your dad. You choose.”
“Neopet. I like knowing you care about things.”
“Did you know they never die?”
You order a round of Cuba Libres.
“I don’t like rum,” Zeke whined.
You shoved the drink in his hand and stole a handful of cut limes from the little container behind the bar.
“Really?” he asked bluntly.
“They never put enough. Trust me. Anyway, that little green Mynci you made in 2001 is sitting there. Literally starving! Zeke.” You grabbed his wrist. “That is verbatim what it says on the website. Starving.” You plopped two slices of lime in his drink.
He stared at you, his grey eyes full of concern. He was high off his ass. “She was yellow.”
“What was her name?”
“I can’t remember, but I know it had like six numbers and probably three underscores.”
“Do you miss her?”
“Every fucking day.”
Laughter overtook both of you. You grabbed a table closest to the exit and he slid his backpack under it. You figured he didn’t want to linger long as well. The chairs were freezing. You shifted in your seat. The cold didn’t help your sore ass. Zeke took notice of this.
“I told you I was paddling you too hard.” He took a tiny sip of his drink.
“I still stand by that you weren’t hard enough.”
“You were crying, pet.”
“They were tears of happiness. You know, like when people win a Golden Globe or whatever.”
“No one gets that excited over a Golden Globe.”
You slumped down into your chair. You had no witty retort. This happened more often than not when he was around. In just about every other social situation you were the paragon of humor, a true queen of comedy.
“Aww, did I hit a nerve?” He kicked your shin from under the table. The pain perked you up. You proceeded to stomp on his foot eliciting an audible wince from him.
“How long are you trying to stay here?” you asked, hoping he’d say something like zero seconds or if I stay here any longer I’ll turn into sand.
“Long enough to have sex in what I am assuming is a gross bathroom.”
“You’re just saying that because you’re high, right? You can’t—This place is gross.”
“I had this planned from the beginning.” He leaned back in his chair. “It shouldn’t be too gross. This hellhole hasn’t been open that long.”
“My feet stick to the—”
“That’s character.” He leaned forward over the table, yanking you by the collar of your shirt so you were inches away from his face. “It makes for an interesting experience.”
You let out a nervous laugh, desperately fighting off the beginnings of arousal. The gross old men leered.
“Ugh. Fine. But I wanna be high too,” you complained.
He glanced at the growing pod of old men. “Let’s hit the bathroom.”
He got up, leaving his unfinished drink behind. It prompted you to do the same. They weren’t that impressive. You walked down the hall turning corners until you saw a sign for a bathroom. Zeke kicked in the door and shoved his head inside.
“I’m pretty sure no one is in here. And look, there are even stalls.”
He made his way over to one and tried to lock its door.
“Well that’s broken.”
He repeated this process on the remaining two stalls. None of them had working locks.
You looked around. “This is—”
“An even better opportunity than I could have imagined.”
You were speechless. You knew he was a borderline insatiable tramp, but this was a lot. You were conflicted. On one hand, getting railed by him always sounded like a good time. But on the other, getting potentially caught by one of those decaying dinosaurs sounded like torture. And you hadn’t committed any crimes bearing that level of punishment.
“But those guys are so weird looking,” you whined like a child.
“Who cares?”
“I care. It’d be one thing if they were like your hot friends…”
“You can’t say that and not specify which ones. It’s illegal. You and I both know that.”
“Fuck… Pieck, duh. Or Colt.”
“Oh god. Really?... Colt?” he sounded vaguely disgusted.
“Fuck you! Yeah, really Colt. It’d be a learning experience for him.”
“I wouldn’t let him join in.”
You smirked. “You say that now, but in the moment the tides may change.” You punctuated the sentence with a wink.
“Alright, you might have a point with the Colt thing. But I’m disappointed Reiner didn’t come up.”
“You know you can just say who you would want to catch us? Like my answers aren’t the end-all-be-all.”
You went to join him in the decrepit stall. You hugged his toned body and buried your face into the crook of his neck. His hands went straight to your ass, typical.
“Reiner, because I know it’d fuck with him,” he yammered on. “Or what’s that one guy’s name? The one that hangs out with my brother?”
“So many people hang out with your brother. You really want a 19-year-old catching us?”
“Hush. I’m thinking. Blonde. Blue eyes.” He paused. “Also Colt’s 19, dumb ass.”
“Colt doesn’t count!! Are you thinking of Historia?”
“What?! No.”
Zeke broke the hug and rubbed his temples. “It’s a boy. He is a boy.”
“Well, more like a man.”
“You’re not helping. Blonde. Blue eyes. He’s a,” Zeke paused for emphasis, “man.”
“I think that’s Armi—”
He barreled through your sentence. “Armin! Yes, him. It’d fuck him up too. He’s like an angel; we’d be stripping him of all innocence.”
“Dude, I’m pretty sure a cute, 19-year-old college boy is getting at least some form of action. We all know who the right option is.”
“Alright, fuck it. Fine. Colt. Are you happy?”
“Yes.”
“Pervert,” he mumbled.
“Like you have room to talk.”
You grazed his cock with your hand. He smirked and pulled a joint from his pack of cigarettes. He held it between his lips and sparked it.
“I see you’re not concerned about getting caught.” He took a hit and then passed it to you.
You took a heavy drag off the joint. “I’m already going to get loudly fucked in a bathroom. I might as be high.”
You passed the joint back to him and he took a lengthy hit. He let the smoke drift from his mouth slowly. You plucked the joint from his fingers.
“I recommend taking another. A long one.”
“Why?” you said, smoke drifting from your mouth.
“Because you’re getting on your knees the second you exhale.”
You held the rest of the smoke in for as long as you could to spite him. But Zeke quickly tired of your bullshit and took the joint from you. He grabbed a chunk of your hair from the back of your scalp and pulled.
“Knees,” he muttered.
You scoffed. “Rude.”
However you did as you were told and he loosened his grip. He took a hit from the joint and blew the smoke towards the ceiling. The ground wasn’t sticky, but that did little to quell your disgust. You were always ashamed at the depths of depravity you allowed yourself to descend into for your boyfriend.
You looked up at him and asked, “Are you really gonna be able to keep the door shut?”
“No. Undo my belt.”
You gritted your teeth and started to fiddle with his belt. His rough hand rested on your head, softly caressing it. You knew such tenderness wouldn’t last long.
“I know you can work faster than that.”
You sighed dramatically. You quickly pulled his belt off and unbuttoned his jeans. You pulled them down and noted that his black briefs were sullied with precum. You yanked his underwear down and was greeted by his thick cock, a beautiful sight to behold. Drool pooled in your mouth, a small drop of it trickled from the corner of your mouth. Zeke lifted your chin and wiped it away with his calloused thumb.
“You’re foul. What will I ever do with you?”
You gazed up at him. “I don’t know… Let me milk every drop of cum from your cock?”
He smirked. “You’re so fucking stupid. Are you done talking?”
“I guess. I can’t think of anything else to—”
He grabbed the back of your head and forced his cock into your mouth. You lurched forward, using the bathroom stall door to keep some semblance of balance. His thrusts were methodical. Never too deep as he didn’t want you to gag on him, it was too early for that.
“You’re filthy, you know that? An utter degenerate.”
He continued to plunge his cock deeper and deeper into your mouth. You carefully breathed through your nose and tried to not cough on his length.
“You deserve to get caught. Everyone deserves to know what a disgusting slut you are.”
You attempted a nod, but Zeke put his rugged palm on your forehead and shoved you off of his cock.
“Say it.”
“I deserve to get caught.”
His grey stared down at you hazy with lust. “And?” He took one last hit off the joint.
“And everyone deserves to know how gross I am.”
He frowned and blew the smoke directly in your face. “Not quite, but close enough.” He shoved his cock back down your throat.
The bathroom stall proved to be a poor source of balance so you rested your hands on his tense thighs. His muscles contracted with pleasure. You relaxed your throat, finally getting the entirety of his cock in your mouth. You held it there for a few seconds before you felt the beginning of a gag. You pushed his hips away from you. He pulled out and continued to jerk off as you coughed and caught your breath.
“I’m getting really close,” he teased.
You smacked his hand away. You spit in yours and jerked him off while running your tongue along his slit.
“Fuck,” he said under his breath. He held your head in place and rammed his cock in your mouth. You grabbed onto his taut ass for leverage. His thrusts were becoming sloppy. He came hard, filling your throat with cum.
“I’m getting fucked, right?” you asked, wiping your lips.
“No, I thought I’d just stand here in this bathroom with my dick out.”
You rolled your eyes and got undressed. He led you out of the stall and shoved you against the sink. He groped your breasts, rough fingers pinching your nipples.
“Ouch!” you yelped.
Zeke laughed and pinched harder. He slipped three of his dexterous fingers into your slick pussy. They slid in and out with ease. He pushed you harder against the sink, the basin digging into your spine. You winced. He took notice and put his hands under your ass and lifted you up.
“Lock your legs around me,” he commanded.
He slammed his cock balls deep inside you. There was no tenderness in his thrusts. He wanted you to moan his name louder than you’d moan anyone else’s. But you resisted. The last thing you wanted to do was to bring any attention to yourself.
“Come on, pet,” he practically begged. “Say my name.”
You shook your head. You pictured those leering old men sipping their martinis, cocks stiff as they heard you moan. Zeke rubbed your clit with his thumb and started kissing your neck. His soft flaxen beard tickled your skin.
“Say my name or else I’ll go find some cheap whore that will.”
His breath was hot on your neck. He pressed his thumb down hard on your clit.
“Fuck! Zeke!” Your legs tightened around his waist.
He placed his hand under your chin and forced you to make eye contact. His eyes were feral, darkened with desire.
“Weak. You can do better than that.”
You hugged him closer, fingernails digging into his chiseled back.
“Zeke!”
You felt your body growing warmer. Every cell in your body writhed with pleasure. You clung to his body as your orgasm intensified.
“I don’t remember giving you permission,” he whispered in your ear.
You attempted to hold back but it was too late. You moaned his name louder than even he anticipated. He held his hand over your mouth, his cock still inside you, thrusting away.
“I don’t remember saying you should start screaming either.” His tone was anxious. “I never thought I’d say this, but please shut the fuck up.”
You glared at him, but remained silent and allowed him to continue fucking you with his engorged cock.
“Good girl.”
The words barely left his lips before he let out a hearty moan. He pulled out of you.
“Hurry, get on your knees.”
You dropped down to them and opened your mouth. For the first time in years he missed, getting his cum all over your chin and down your neck. You were not impressed.
“You look so cute.”
He pinched your cheek and ordered you to stand up. He held your face in his hands. Just as he went to lick your neck the bathroom door swung open. It was one of the old men. Zeke didn’t stop licking you.
“Oh my word! I am so sorry. You, uh… You two… have fun.”
The guy ran out as quickly as he came in.
“I wonder if I could pay that guy to walk in on us whenever I want.”
You went to search for your underwear and found them inside a toilet. You flushed them away.
“No. We talked about this already.”
“Colt would be traumatized if he walked in on this.”
Zeke finally put his dick away. You both stood at the sink washing your hands.
“Isn’t that what you wanted?! Whatever, let’s leave before we get kicked out for being absolutely disgusting. Not that I ever plan on coming back here.”
You walked out of the bathroom and faced the geezers. You kept your head down. Zeke on the other hand seemed to relish in the shame and even tried to high five the man who caught you.
Zeke grabbed his backpack from under the table you two had been previously sitting at. You headed to the spiral staircase that led to the exit. It was one of those rickety metal ones that would be considered decorative in a world that made sense. Zeke offered you his elbow and you held on while you cautiously made your way down the stairs. You pushed through the heavy doors and were greeted by a rush of cold air.
You shivered. “Fuck! I was inside before the sun went down.”
You were woefully unprepared for the weather.
“Good thing I’m a genius then, huh?” He pulled out a sweatshirt from his backpack. “Arms up.”
You raised your arms and he tugged the sweatshirt down onto your body.
“Thank you. I didn’t think it would be so chilly.”
Zeke pointed up at the perfectly clear night sky. “Yeah, we’re in for a cold one. Look.”
You both let out a collective whoa. It was a gorgeous sight; it almost made up for the ugliness that had previously occurred moments ago.
Zeke lightly slapped your ass. “Let’s get moving. We need to shower.”
“Come on, you don’t wanna stare at something dumb ass beautiful?”
If you had craned your neck back any further to see the stars you would have toppled over.“I already have a beautiful dumb ass I can stare at whenever I want. Now come on. I was balls deep in a paternity dispute before I got here. You’re going to love it, the baby daddy threw his gold tooth at his ex-wife. Jerry is pissed.”
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