#I got distracted while rendering the tongue and mouth........................ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

barcaatthemoon · 1 month

Text

good girl || mary earps x reader ||

you get worked up after mary praises you on the field.

"good girl." the words had slipped out whenever you were on the pitch with mary. it was nice being so close to each other on game days, but occasionally, it got distracting. mary yelling out directions at the backline was hot. the praise you had received for blocking out a shot was even hotter.

you were grateful to be subbed out when you were because all you could think about was mary saying that in a different context. the two of you hadn't explored much in the bedroom, content with your sex life already. mary wasn't necessarily boring, but she did like to stick to what she knew. just like you wouldn't consider yourself kinky, just someone who went along with whatever their partners were into.

inside the locker room, you were definitely guilty of rushing mary out of there. it was a home game, so the two of you could just go back to her place. she had driven you to the game anyway. the two of you always spent the night together before and after games. it was rare that either of you even wanted to spend any time at your own apartments all alone.

"what was gotten into you?" mary laughed as she got into the car with you. usually, you would have been more careful about who could have been watching, but you really wanted mary. instead of answering her verbally, you grabbed onto the collar of her shirt and pulled her in for a kiss.

mary moaned into the kiss as your tongue swiped past her lips. she was always so eager to taste you inside of her mouth. you dropped your head just a little, but not enough to break the kiss. mary's hand moved to the back of your head, cradling it as she deepened the kiss. you were certain that the two of you could have gone a lot further if it wasn't for one of your teammates honking their horn at you.

"fuck, mary, we need to get home," you told her. the light chuckle died in mary's throat as she realized how badly you wanted her. she swallowed as she shifted the car into drive.

you had your hands on her the entire drive. mary was definitely speeding a bit, but she used the roads that she knew were clear to get home. she pulled into the first spot that she saw close to the doors. the two of you got out of the car, and mary didn't let you get more than a couple of steps onto the sidewalk before she was scooping you up into her arms and hauling you over her shoulder. it wasn't done in a sexy way at all, but you still felt a bit of heat pool in between your legs at her showing of strength.

"what the hell has gotten into you?" mary questioned again. you were laying on the bed in front of her. your eyes were wide as you looked up at her, pupils blown wide with lust. mary took a step closer to you to reach out and brush her thumb across your bottom lip. "talk to me. are you upset?"

"not at all," you told her. mary looked a little skeptical, but she trusted you not to lie to her. "i just want you to fuck me, mary. i want you to fuck me hard and fast while you tell me how good of a girl i am for you, please."

mary was rendered speechless at how forward you were. she lost all of her cool as she looked away from you. you got up onto your knees on the bed in front of her. mary still wasn't looking at you, so you turned her head towards you. she needed to see the look of need and desperation in your eyes, and you knew it.

"please," you pleaded with her. mary swallowed back everything that had bubbled up in her as she nodded. "you have to want it too. i'll do whatever you want mary, i swear that i will."

"you don't have to do anything for me baby," mary told you. she pressed a very sweet kiss to your lips before she let her hands drop from your cheeks down to your waist. "i know how ready and willing you are for me. that's why you're my best girl."

the praise had all of the heat in your body torn as to where it needed to go. your cheeks were flushed, giving away how turned on you were. mary was quick to twist your body around so that your back was pressed against her front. you expected her to leave and grab the strap on or something, but instead she just bent you over so that you were on your hands and knees.

"i bet that you're soaked under this kit. when you tripped over yourself earlier, was it because you were thinking about me doing this to you?" mary asked. you nodded, suddenly embarrassed about how badly you wanted mary to fuck you. all she had said was two words to you on the pitch, and you were a horny, bumbling mess. you felt a sharp sting on your ass as mary's hand came down to spank you. "answer me, i want to hear you say it. come on, i thought you wanted to be my good girl."

"fuck," you groaned. mary's hand moved from your ass up to grab your ponytail to crane your neck back. "yes, i was thinking about this. please, mary, just fuck me."

"hmm, i don't like being rushed, but you are being very polite about it. alright, take your clothes off and i'll be right back." mary let go of you and pressed a kiss to where your shirt had ridden up on your back. you scrambled off of the bed to undress yourself while mary went into the closet. you knew what she kept in there, so you knew what to expect when she came out, and yet, you were still a bit floored.

"mary," you breathed out. she smirked as she noticed the look on your face. you were practically drooling as you took in the marvel of a sight that was her standing naked in front of you with the familiar dildo that she had bought specifically for you jutting out proudly between her legs.

"it's okay, i'm coming honey," mary reassured you. she climbed onto the bed, hovering over you. for a moment, you thought that she'd just fuck you like that, but mary surprised you by slinging your legs over her shoulders. she leaned down just enough that you could feel the head of the dildo pressing against you as she put her focus on your tits.

mary's mouth and hands felt heavenly on your body, but it wasn't what you wanted. a part of you wanted to urge her forward, but mary was moving at a fairly comfortable speed. it was how she always was with you, but today, you were on edge a bit more than normal. you had been festering with your horniness for mary for too long, and she had done a wonderful job playing along with you whenever the two of you got back.

"you're being so patient for me-," mary pressed a kiss to the underside of both of your breasts, "-what a good girl."

"mary," you whined. she glanced up at you with an uneven smile and a look in her eyes that told you she knew exactly what she was doing. mary was teasing you a bit, but it wasn't out of a place of malice. mary just wanted to make sure that you were ready for her, knowing that you'd whine and whimper and throw a fit if she tried to just give you her fingers. that was what you always did whenever she wasn't as rough with you as you could have liked.

"shh." mary pressed a quick kiss to your lips as she lined up the tip of the dildo with your entrance. mary eased the toy inside of you and waited until you started to move your hips to move hers. she grabbed onto your hips as she snapped her hips forward a couple of times. "you're taking me so good right now."

you moaned, both from the praise and the way that her hips were roughly thrusting into you. mary pressed a couple of kisses to your lips, a little bit of a warning as her thrusts grew more forceful. you knew that mary was worried about hurting you like this, so you started kissing the side of her neck as reassurance. you were a bit too far gone to tell her that she was fine, but your actions worked just as well as your words.

"i want you to cum for me, (y/n). come on, be a good girl for me and let me watch you cum all over my cock. i know that you can do it," mary cooed in your ear. the softness of her voice contradicted the roughness of her thrusts, making your head spin. it was almost like there were two different people in bed with you, but both of them were inexplicably mary. "come on now, that's it."

you whined as your entire body contracted around mary. your arms and legs were squeezing her in an attempt to keep her still inside of you. the feeling of her sitting still inside of you was comforting until it began to feel like too much. mary seemed to know when you wanted her to pull out and did so without any prompting. she tossed the strap aside and moved to cradle you in her arms. this was always one of mary's favorite parts of sex, and occasionally, you wondered if she liked this more than the actual act itself.

"you did so good," mary told you. you smiled and hummed as you rested your head against her shoulder. mary pressed a few kisses to the side of your head before she groaned.

"you okay?" you asked. mary nodded, rubbing out a bit of soreness in the back of her thigh. "did you pull something?"

"maybe. a hot shower should make it go away." you knew what mary was trying to do, and unfortunately, it worked perfectly. you were out of bed within seconds to draw up a bath for the two of you. you knew that mary preferred showers, but it had been at least a month since you had talked her into a romantic bath for just the two of you. "it's ready mare!"

"coming!" mary shouted back, twice as loud as you had been. you chuckled as you shook your head, climbing into the bath and moving against the back of it. mary paused when she walked in to see the bubbles, but still got in and let you wrap yourself around her from behind. "i said a shower."

"and i wanted a bath. besides, i'll massage out the knots when we get out, i promise," you told her. mary hummed, seemingly satisfied for the time being.

#minors do not interact #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso smut #mary earps x reader #mary earps imagine #mary earps smut

409 notes · View notes

ollypopwrites · 1 month

Text

Our Sweet Remedy

Gale x Fem!Tav [AFAB, she/her]

Rating: Explicit [18+ MDNI]

Word count: 2.8k

Request: 69 or DP with Gale by anon!

Warnings: Smut (oral [f and m receiving, face fucking, cum swallowing], Gale’s projection double participates [PiV], double penetration, fingering), dirty talk, Dom!Gale (and he is condescending lmao, but no degradation), after care, safe and consensual check ins. Changing POV (Tav then Gale).

Notes: there is so little plot here I don’t know what to say. No beta reader, only Ao can judge me. Also idk if it’s mirror image Gale uses for his projection? Sorry if that that is not lore accurate.

My Ao3

Tav felt she may have to sit down and chat with Gale about his inability to just lay back and receive every once in a while.

It was post-exam season, and her overachieving fiance, had just spent many days cooped up in the study grading and reading final assignments. But it was finally over and they were celebrating the completion of his first full term as a professor at Blackstaff. A night out so neither of them had to cook and a bottle of wine to end the evening.

With Gale wrapped up in his work, it had been up to Tav to arrange everything. Her plans for the night had so far gone exactly as they ought to, they made it to their reservation for dinner, the walk to and from the tower had been exactly on time and when they got through the door he was amenable to being ordered upstairs.

This was where the plan went awry. She had meant to get on her knees, and give him some well-deserved admiration. Gale, however, after what felt like weeks of being drowned in work and only seeing glimpses of his betrothed was feeling clingy and needy.

Instead of having his cock in her mouth from her knees, she was draped alongside him on the bed. His hands roamed over her sides, taking in each curve, grabbing onto flesh when she did something he particularly liked. The groans and murmured praises spurred her on, happy to be able to please him and offer him some reprieve.

His fingers trailed her thighs, nudging them apart. She allowed it, for the moment, a pleased yet shocked squeal leaving her when he ran through the seam of her, dipping his fingers inside of her when he found her wet.

She pulled off him to lift her head, and remind him she was doing something for him for once when she caught him bringing his fingers into his mouth. Rendered momentarily speechless, body pulsing with a renewed need, Tav licked her lips.

“Humor me?” He asked.

“This — hey!” She felt him grabbing her thighs, attempting to pull her onto his body. “Gale, tonight is supposed to be about you.”

“Believe me, my love,” he said, not giving up his intent so Tav had to acquiesce, “this is for me.”

Another pulse of excitement coursed through her. Not meaning to be outdone, Tav at least acknowledged that this gave her better access to his cock. Her body now settled over his, with her thighs bracketing his sides as he leaned against the headboard with her presented for him as he grabbed at her ass. She worked him into her mouth with renewed vigor, not letting up even when he began his usual maddening work on her with his tongue.

For a while she was too lost to the sensation of him groaning above her to truly acknowledge how worked up she was getting. When she took him further into her mouth, as far as she could, he sucked hard on her clit with a moan and she felt her entire body go rigid.

There was something incredibly enticing about feeling so much pleasure while he was buried in her throat. She pulled up for air and not one to be outdone, Gale went in more fervently.

She was quickly rising to her climax, and she was losing focus. Pumping him in her hand with his head in her mouth, she kept being distracted by the sensations.

“You’re distracting me,” she whined.

No response, just more incessant working of her that made her want to give up entirely on the task at hand and languish in his talents.

Her own hands wrapped around his hips, to grab at his ass and pull him further into her mouth so he would get the message. He hesitated, gently thrust and when she moaned he allowed himself shallow jerky movements. A half-formed groan escaped him and his grip grew tighter on her thighs.

Tav’s mind went blissfully blank, truly degenerate moans came out around the slight muffle of him thrusting in and out of her mouth and then something snapped.

It was hard to tell if Gale gave the hard thrust into her throat or if she pushed herself down onto him, but it hardly mattered. Mouth full of him, her toes curled, her legs shook and her hips had to be held firmly to keep from jolting and moving from the sensation of his mouth.

After it passed she took him out of her mouth to laugh, a bit delirious at what had just happened.

“Alright, my love?”

He sounded strained, and she could see why. His cock was rigid, pulsing slightly and she knew he was close. She hummed an affirmative and without distraction went back to work on rewarding her wizard for a successful first term not thinking much more of the turn of events.

Gale couldn’t forget it.

Perhaps it was that he had not considered how much time he was buried in work and now being able to reemerge he found himself constantly thinking about Tav’s reaction the other night. They went from enjoying each other's company as often as possible to intermittently due to his new work schedule to not at all during the exam season.

But regardless of it being a matter of being pent up or not. He was catching himself thinking about her reaction in the middle of benign conversations, eyes drifting to her mouth and wondering just what her expression had been when she came with his cock in her throat.

Blindly feeling it had been near enough to throw him over the edge. He had to see it.

They had discussed trying things with his ability to conjure a mostly tangible mirror image before. The idea had come to him after the topic of Halsin wanting to be an add on to their partnership while on the road had come up. It had been born of insecurity, a need to be more in order to keep her by his side , but after his concerns were put to rest the idea remained.

It remained on a loop, actually. The idea of filling her so completely that all she could feel was him.

When she climbed in his lap in the study a couple days later, as eager to make up for their time apart as he was, he decided he had to see if he could bring the fantasy to life.

Tav gasped when she felt the somewhat cool touch of the mirror image’s hand on her back. She looked over her shoulder, and the projection smiled at her. Naked and ready already, but not making any other move to touch Tav.

“Hello there,” she said and then turned back to Gale. “We finally giving this a go?”

“Only if you want to,” he said, cupping her face. “Say the word and he will be gone.”

Tav kissed him, and then bit her lip with a cheeky smile. “How do you two want me?”

Gale felt a blazing trail of excitement crawl up his spine, blood rushing. “Naked. On your hand and knees.” He added a gentlemanly, “please,” for good measure.

“Yes, saer,” she teased and crawled out of his lap to strip herself of her clothes and do as she was asked.

For a while he just watched as she took in the sensations of the spectral presence lavishing her in attention. There was a thrill in being able to see his hands grab at the flesh of her ass, to see himself squeeze her thighs and generally admire her body from his seat on the settee. A unique pleasure in watching but still knowing it was all him that made her whine impatiently, and when he allowed the projection to finally touch her she eased into it.

“How does it feel, my love?”

The projection slid fingers through her folds, not quite giving her clit the attention it needed.

“Ever the scholar,” she mused and then moaned as a spectral finger circled her entrance. “Feels good, a bit like the mage hand, honestly.”

Gale hummed.

“Off,” she half demanded tugging down at the hem of his shirt.

“Always so impatient,” he chuckled, removing his shirt anyway.

“And you’re always a tease,” she shot back. One of her hands came up to tug at his waistband this time. “These next.”

“Demanding, as well,” he replied, yet he moved to acquiesce. He sat down in front of her, still on the settee while his mirror image continued to rub and tease, purposely not touching where she truly wanted him to. His hand came to her cheek, “I’d very much like to preoccupy your mouth with something besides bossing me around. How do you tell me to stop?”

“Two taps,” she demonstrated on his thigh for good measure.

There was a challenge in her eyes, one that spurred him on. The urge to take very deep despite his constant reign on himself. Perhaps a hold over from his time dealing with the orb, but if there was one thing Tav was good at it was tempting him.

He pushed his thumb into her mouth, and she sucked on it before opening her mouth to make a show of running her tongue along the pad of his finger.

“The other night,” he said, eyebrows furrowing in sharp focus at the point where his finger met her tongue, “you took me so deeply when you came. Did you like it?”

She hummed an affirmative, her mouth coming off his hand to say, “I loved it.” Her hand reached for the base of his cock, bringing it towards her mouth.

He moved his hand into her hair, gripping tight enough to keep her head from moving any further. Behind her his double stopped immediately. A frozen moment of disbelief crossed over her face.

“Ask me.”

She breathed a half laugh, but the way she licked her lips betrayed her interest in his demand.

“May I have your cock in my mouth?”

“Ask me, nicely.”

A shudder overtook her. “Please, Gale, can I have your cock in my mouth?”

“You may,” he replied with a smile, hand coming out of her hair to allow her to move.

The first lick was teasing, but with every attention she paid to him the projection behind her rewarded her anew. Gale took the time to sit back and enjoy, her clever mouth working him at her own leisure and each soft noise of pleasure while she did made his jaw clench.

When the presence behind her slipped two fingers inside of her, he felt her stiffen and her mouth froze on him. She tried to get back to her task but each stroke of the fingers inside of her seemed to draw her away until she was just sitting there moaning with his cock in her mouth.

“That’s it,” Gale muttered. “Hold me in your mouth, my love, can you do that?”

A gentle nod was her reply and the projection behind her went to work. Gale’s breathing picked up, self-control hanging on by a fraying thread as he simply watched. Pre-cum dribbled out of him and the resulting squeal she gave before running her tongue over the tip of him had him questioning why he was waiting.

Tav’s first orgasm approached, and he watched with fond understanding of exactly how it would go. The rush of sudden impatience as her hips thrust back onto the fingers inside of her, the little noises she would make and the crinkled brow of focus as she let herself hone in on the rising sensation. Beautiful as usual.

“Gale,” she breathed, “I’m going to —“

“Ask.”

Her eyes shot open, meeting his, a new sort of awe struck intrigue perhaps at the commanding tone. “Please,” she said, tongue laving over the tip of him, “please let me come.”

“Open for me,” he said, hand coming back into her hair. When she did as he asked he gently guided her back onto him, “hold me here. Keep me right here while you fall apart.”

The projection was unrelenting, and Gale could hardly keep his hips steady with each little whine that came from Tav’s lips. Enraptured by the view, he was lost when her jaw went a bit slack, tongue pressed against the head of his cock in a last attempt to pleasure him as she tipped over the edge.

The final thread of self-control frayed; the projection of himself quickly readjusted so that the same time Gale thrust into her mouth its cock was also sinking into her heat.

Tav squealed in surprise around both intrusions, and Gale grit his teeth to stave off further thrusting in order to give her the chance to tap out. His lovely Tav simply looked up at him, corners of her lips turned up in a challenging smile even with her mouth full.

The desire to make her as mindless as he felt overtook and in unison both cocks began to thrust. Praise was all he could find himself to speak.

“Yes, my love, yes,” he whispered, “look at you, full of me.” He sucked in a sharp breath when she whined, the sensation causing a sweet vibration. “So beautiful, so good,” he breathed, “with such an eager mouth — and a dripping cunt for me.”

Her eyes blinked, slightly watery with a sharper thrust that he felt gag her slightly. But yet unwaveringly full of awe, full of admiration and devotion. Proof she was loving every second of this as much as him.

The projection pressed over her back, arm coming around to touch her clit in reward. A slightly manic sound left her, desperate and shocked. He knew she was probably still sensitive, he barely gave her time to recover from the last orgasm before he began the double ended onslaught of sensation. Her walls had probably still been fluttering around the slightly spectral intrusion of his double’s cock.

He swallowed hard. He almost wanted to take himself out of her mouth to hear her describe the feeling, but it would be too great a loss he decided. The unending string of muffled moans were enough of an indication for him.

At a particularly harsh thrust from his double he was knocked from her mouth, her head lolling and eyes closing. She was losing her focus.

“Keep my cock in your mouth, Tav,” he commanded, the projection ceasing all movement. Hips and hands stilling mid movement.

“Trying,” she whimpered. “Feels too good —“

Gale tightened the grip in her hair, guiding her back to where he wanted her, his hips thrusting steadily with a groan. “I’ve got you,” he muttered, “stay there.”

The projection started its onslaught again, with renewed gasps and choked off whimpers from Tav starting anew. He was steadily approaching the precipice, but unwilling to venture over until he saw for himself what it looked like to have her truly debauched.

The visage of him behind her was unrelenting, and he could see her beginning to reach that peak. Her eyes gave away the desperation she felt, and when he finally gave her permission he watched first her body begin to slouch unable to keep herself up as her knees slid further apart and her hips twitch.

Tav’s eyes went blissfully blank before they rolled back slightly, his thrusts into her mouth a bit easier as her jaw went slack.

“That's it, Tav,” he breathed. “Gods, you’re perfection.”

Without being able to look away he felt the control finally slip away. His hips thrust up in harsh long strokes that made her gag as he felt himself seize up with the release. It was met with sucking as Tav eased him through it.

Behind her the projection had faded with his lack of concentration. He took a few moments to admire her, lips swollen, glistening with saliva and breathing heavy.

“Come here,” he pulled her up off of the floor, and settled her on his lap. He kissed her sweaty forehead, her cheek and then finally her lips. “Alright?”

She nodded her head.

“I need to hear you say it, Tav.”

“I’m fine,” she assured him. “Let’s stay like this, though, a little longer.”

His hands rubbed over her back, lips pressed to the crown of her head as they caught their breath. The glow of satiation still thrummed through his veins as he focused on the feel of her in his arms. Gratitude bloomed in his chest at her ability to make him feel safe enough to explore his desire to take for once, for trusting him.

“You’re filthy, Gale,” she giggled after a while, still looking a bit dazed.

“You’re one to talk,” he challenged.

“It wasn’t a complaint,” she assured him, letting herself nestle her face into the crook of his neck. “We are definitely doing that again.”

Thank you for reading 💜

#bg3 fanfiction #gale x tav #gale dekarios fanfic #gale dekarios smut #gale dekarios x tav #Olly writes

165 notes · View notes

0fth34byss · 3 months

Text

(Un)welcome Distraction | Part 6

Nick Folio x female reader

Minors, please DNI

🔞⚠️: angst, discussion about consent, grinding, oral (female receiving), unprotected p in v sex, biting

1,270 words

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

“I don't blame you!” Nick yelled, flopping down on the edge of the hotel room bed.

“Then why are you acting like you do?!” You retorted, turning on your heels and storming into the bathroom.

Nick followed. He turned you round and backed you into the counter, holding you in place. He looked broken.

“I don't blame you. I'm just mad at the situation. I'm mad that my friend made out with my girlfriend.”

“He didn't make out with me. He got up in my face, literally, when I asked what his problem was, then he, he kissed me. I tried to get him off me but -.” you sobbed.

You hadn't lied to Nick about trying to push him away, you had, but only after you realised Jolly had edged his tongue into your mouth.

“That's not what Bryan said he saw. He said Jolly had you pressed up against the wall. He pretty much declared his love for you, then, then, then he had his tongue down your throat!”

“Bryan's exaggerating!” you replied, raising your voice more than you intended.

“Then tell me what happened rather than just crying every time I fucking ask you,” he barked, moving his trembling hands to your waist.

It turned out Bryan had witnessed your exchange with Jolly and told Nick everything, in detail, after Nick had found you inconsolable in one of the restrooms backstage.

The scene played out in your mind for the thousandth time:

Jolly was looking at you with both lust and pain behind his eyes, telling you he'd been suppressing his feelings for years. It rendered you all but catatonic. You were powerless to stop him from kissing you, despite that being the last thing you wanted to happen - even after what he'd just told you. When you hadn't pulled away after a few seconds, Jolly continued to deepen the kiss. The reality of the situation then hit and guilt over being unable to bring yourself to make him stop consumed you. You pushed hard on Jolly's chest and twisted your head to the side to keep your mouth as far away from his as possible. Jolly took a step back and brought his hands to his head, like he was about to pull his own hair out. You burst into tears and he tried to make his apologies, but you were already making your way out the door, where you ran into Bryan, before skirting around him to make your escape.

“Jolly, what the hell?!” You heard Bryan exclaim as you made your way down the corridor to the nearest restroom.

“Bryan, please, I need to go after her.”

“No, you don't. She's not yours.”

You recounted the events to Nick while he kept a firm grip on your waist, like he was worried you'd become a flight risk.

“It was like I was frozen. I couldn't move. I was in, like, shock, or disbelief, or something.”

Nick took a moment, before continuing, “Okay, baby. I know that you didn't kiss him back, but you shouldn't have put yourself in that position. You've seen how he looks at you. How could you not think he'd make a move on you?”

“How. Fucking. Dare. You!” You spat back at him, seeing red. “First of all, I should be able to be in the same room as someone and not have them kiss me WITHOUT my permission. Secondly, I thought Jolly would've had more respect for you, the man he described as his ‘kid brother’. Now, please can you give me some privacy so I can take a shower?”

“Baby -”

“Just go, Nick!”

Reluctantly Nick stormed out of the bathroom and slammed the door behind him, causing you to jump.

When you got out of the shower, your head hurt and your chest felt tight. Wiping away the condensation from the surface of the mirror, you took in your reflection. Your eyes were red and face puffy - ‘great’, you thought. After drying yourself and doing your skincare routine, you'd composed yourself enough to face Nick again. Wrapped in your towel, you tentatively left the bathroom and found Nick sat on the bed with his head in his hands. He jumped to his feet when he saw you.

“Hey, how was your shower?”

“Good. Water pressure's good.”

He looked to the ground, “I, uh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply anything. I, look, I don't know what to do or think about the situation. I can't start a fight with Jolly in the middle of a tour, so -”

“So it's easier to blame me?” You said, barely keeping your composure.

Nick insisted that wasn't the case and, although you didn't want to, you believed him. You could read Nick like a book.

He pulled you into his arms and onto his lap. Gently placing a finger under your chin, he turned your face up towards his own and placed a soft kiss on your lips. The familiarity was comforting and much needed. You felt Nick smiling against your mouth as he slowly rubbed his hand over your leg. You hadn't quite forgiven him for what he'd said yet, but for now, knowing your relationship was going to be okay was enough.

You repositioned yourself so you were now straddling him, and Nick instinctively wrapped his arms around you to pull you in close. You slowly rotated your hips and began grinding yourself against him, seeking friction between your thighs like you were trying to ease the tension between you both. You felt his cock harden underneath you. Desire took over your usually rational mind.

“Nick?”

“Hmm, hmm”

“Is it bad, after everything that's happened, I really want to have sex with you?”

“Go take off your towel and lie down.”

Nick steadied you as you climbed off his lap and did as you were told. You sprawled out in the middle of the bed as you watched Nick underess. He parted your legs a little more as he came to kneel between them. He moved down the bed slightly then brought his mouth down on your pussy. Nick’s tongue swept over your clit in a controlled rhythm. He continued until you let out an ungodly groan. He whipped up his head, mouth dripping with your juices and crawled up so he could lie on top of you. You could smell your arousal on his breath. Knowing he enjoyed you tasting yourself, you grabbed the back of his head and pulled him in for a kiss. While making out, you both began to involuntarily move your hips against each other. You could feel his tip teasing your entrance. Your hands made their way to his ass so you could pull him in closer. Finally, you felt him inside.

He moved his kisses to your neck as he began fucking you with hard, deliberate movements he knew would have to crying out for more. It was obvious he hoped Jolly would hear about it the next morning, but you didn't let that stop you from finding your release.

With your hands still on his ass you pulled him in deep, driving him to bite down on your neck - sucking and nipping at the flesh until you called out in pain. It was animalistic. You were both a mess of grunts and moans, desperate for the other to climax.

“Nick. Fuck.” You literally screamed as you came.

After another minute or two, Nick could only manage to groan loudly in your ear as his load filled you up.

You both lay there in the same position, panting and reeling, unable to move yet.

Part 7

#nick folio #bad omens fanfiction #nick folio fanfic #nick folio fic #nick folio x reader #nick folio fanfiction #nick folio x female reader

56 notes · View notes

onedaughterofman · 1 year

Text

You, forever (Chapter IX: Waiting for the night)

Pairing: Papa Emeritus IV x g/n reader

Summary: The Clergy takes something from Copia, but he refuses to let go.

Warnings/tags: descriptions of corpses, death, blood and violence. Biblical references and Satanism. Emotional hurt. Psychological horror. Copia straight up not having a good time. Around 5.5K words.

A/N: Shit got real.

PREV CHAPTER HERE

ENTER APOCALYPSE.

“The first angel sounded, and there followed hail and fire mingled with blood, and they were cast upon the earth: and the third part of trees was burnt up, and all green grass was burnt up”

A perpetual smile is plastered on Mary Goore’s face.

It’s rare. In old pictures, faded away by the passage of time and corroded by the sun and water, Goore consistently had a frown on their face. From Academy portraits to concert photos on an underground metal magazine, there was only a scowl, furrowed brows and thin lips in a line.

Now, Goore smiles. The corners of their mouth are lifted, stretched out almost to the maximum as their head moves to follow the lively rhythm of a song. Papa Emeritus stands in the middle of the rundown studio, not daring to take a seat anywhere. From the walls to the floor, everything appears to be covered in a dense layer of dust and gravel, dirty and corroded by time.

This studio, as much as Goore seems to appreciate it, is in ruins. A long, long time ago it was a mausoleum, part of the ancient chapel’s private cemetery. No one in the Ministry cared about it, which made it easier for Mary to naturally take it.

Muscles stiff and fingertips cold, Copia desires nothing more than to exit this place. It’s freezing between these stone walls and the humidity clings to the surfaces, rendering them sticky. Even the ghouls would prefer to be anywhere else but here, judging by their rigid shoulders and flickering tails. This space stinks of death, wet soil and decay.

“I thought you said three weeks,” Goore speaks up for the first time since Papa Emeritus set foot inside the mausoleum.“I still have time.”

“I know,” it’s the reply. “I’m just here to oversee the process.”

A short, bitter chuckle is all the answer he receives. Mary’s fingers toy with a small bone, cleaning the carcass of something that might have been a crow during better times. Now, the remains are almost unrecognizable. “It’s okay,” they state, after a beat. “As long as you don’t wish to see them.”

“Why not?”

Goore’s eyes are too dark to be read. Face obscured by shadows, they look more like a corpse than a living person, all pale skin and gaunt cheeks. “It’s ugly,” they explain. “Messy.”

The sound of a Ghoul’s tail flickering swiftly cuts the air. Papa inhales, gathers a shallow breath before speaking. “Am I supposed to trust in your words only, then?”

“Yes.”

A loud crack reverberates on the walls when the bone on Goore’s hand snaps in a half, bending between their fingers. Mary stares at the pieces, clicks his tongue before tossing them at the table.

“It’s better not to distract me,” they continue, turning around to face Papa Emeritus. “I’m not very good at multitasking. Had a hard time playing guitar while singing on stage, that’s why I planned to get another guitarist.”

“Couldn’t you find another one of your corpse puppets to play around?”

A laugh, short and hollow fills the air. Papa Emeritus still hears that sound often, when he’s alone trying to sleep, fingers reaching out to the side of the bed you used to rest in. “Not necessarily. I didn’t have the time to search for a good one, that’s all.”

Silence falls deeply into the room. Papa Emeritus takes one step, then another. His mismatched eyes inspect the bird carcass, note the way Goore is cleaning the bones and peeling away the flesh from them with an almost clinical care. “Tell me,” he commands. “What’s the process?”

For a moment, Goore stays silent. Then, his fingers pick up another bone. “Once you find the soul and guide it back to this earthly realm, you must make the body a suitable vessel for it again. Much like summoning a Nameless Ghoul and giving them a human carrier, the soul must accept the old receptacle. To put a soul infused with life essence into a dead container is complicated. They don’t want to remain there. It feels wrong.”

No, wrong is not the right word.

It’s pure horror. A painful, traumatizing, unforgettable process. It’s torture, visceral and profound. Regardless of how much time has passed since their demise and return to life or how well their body was preserved thanks to black magic, Goore still remembers the agonizing pain, desperation and gut wrenching fear.

“A soul brimming with life energy will stop the decomposing process. In this case, since they have been embalmed, I need to perform a few other modifications here and there.”

Over the distant low whistle of the wind, Papa’s voice sounds harsher, stronger. “Explain.”

“Blood.” Goore says, fluttering a hand in an empty gesture. Their fingers are coated with a dark, thick substance. “They need fresh blood, organs, entrails… I need to reverse the embalming little by little, step by step. It’s a bit more complicated than reversing natural decomposition.”

“I assume you have found a way.”

“One or two,” Goore smiles, cracking their knuckles before continuing.“It’s not my first time working with something like this. I had some practice before getting kicked out from the Academy.”

Moving even closer, Papa Emeritus peeks from behind Goore’s shoulders. As messy as it might seem, their work is careful and curated. Those long fingers move deftly, minding every individual detail. Goore may have said they are not fond of multitasking, but Copia notes the way they clean the skeleton with natural ease, almost on autopilot.

“I read your file,” he comments, tongue poking out to moisten his lips. It’s hard to speak when it’s so bleak. “You stole a Papa’s corpse from the mausoleum.”

The file was very explicit. Whoever wrote it didn’t spare details and curses on Goore’s figure, cataloging the incident as something “never seen before” and “overly blasphemous". To tinker around with a sacred body, with a relic no less, must have been heavily disapproved of.

“Well, yes. Where else would I have found an embalmed corpse? You have an idea of how much money it requires to embalm a body?” They ask, before another smile stretches their lips.“Sorry. You do, after all.”

Even if Papa Emeritus feels the anger rise from deep within his guts, he remains calm. There’s no use getting upset at this moment, not when your return hangs from Goore’s fingers. “What I don’t understand is what you were trying to achieve. You knew you were risking it all with your stunt. Were you studying so you could bring a loved one back?”

This time, Mary’s slow laugh echoes around the corners. They stand up, so fast the chair drags on the floor and almost falls to the ground. The bones are thrown on the table, landing in a series of horizontal lines.

“Is that all the motivation you can think of?” they snort, a hand darting up to move away a few strands of hair from their eyes. Then, something in their expression softens, temporarily filled with melancholy. “If you want to know, I loved a guy once. He was hot but stupid, and I liked him because he reminded me of Jim Morrison. Later, he left me for some woman whom I’m pretty sure had something to do with my death.”

Surprised by the sudden display of emotions, Papa struggles to continue. Goore is a mystery, an eccentric figure never understood by anyone in the Ministry. “Then, why?”

For a long moment, Goore remains silent, reflective. Images of blood and bones, of funerals and burials pass in front of their eyes, misty like forgotten memories. Decades ago, the Ministry was an extremely sinister place.

Well, it is possible it has always been that way.

“Lots of kids died in the Ministry years ago, did you know?” They start, fingers blindly reaching to collect the bones back up. Even though they are clean, their nails still scratch the surface trying to wipe off a spot of dry blood. “I was young, but I’ve been told The Clergy was growing desperate. They wanted to force the coming of the Antichrist by any method.”

Dozens of babies and toddlers died as a result of those rituals. Parents were assured it was an honor to surrender little children to their hands, that from their suffering the Evil One would cast incommensurable rewards their way. Turns out, blood infected the ground and the rewards never came.

After lots of failure, those old men and women were forced to stop.

“The grass over those graves never grew right. It looked all burnt up, dead. I used to play a lot in the graveyard, until one day somehow I woke someone up. Kid rose from the grave, walked out of it all the way back to her parents. That was my first accidental necromancy.”

It was a mess. The screams from the parents could be heard all around the Ministry. The thing with the dead is, they are angry and confused. Without their brain controlling and limiting their bodies, they are capable of amazing things they couldn’t perform during life. That little girl tore the scalp off her mother without blinking.

What a fucking mess. Naturally, that’s not something Goore can tell Papa Emeritus IV.

Fortunately, Copia doesn’t press on that issue. “How did you do it?”

“Natural talent, they said. Everybody praises you the first time, but soon the same trick grows old. I got tired of simple rituals, so I searched for ways to use my power. Obviously, there were some setbacks.”

At the beginning, the empty corpses roamed the Ministry seeking a soul. Once they found one, they tore the flesh from the living trying to get it out. Then, once Mary managed to fuse both soul and body, the corpses started moving by their longing for a future.

Brought back to life, they regained some memories from their final moments and recalled their wishes for the future, the one they were to have had. The holes between their memories and their life plans became an incomplete, confusing puzzle. It got them crazy.

“The Clergy began to worry,” Mary continues. “They saw me as a threat. I had the power to set foot in the cemetery and raise an army of undead detractors they put underground. That’s what happens when you build an empire over the blood and flesh of your enemies, it’s easy to make it crumble.”

Beyond a few threats Mary sputtered here and there during lengthy discussions with the higher-ups, they never planned to actually take the Ministry by storm. Goore never wanted the responsibilities that came from it, never desired to be the one in command. They merely wanted to perform, to live their life to the fullest.

Achieving the perfect reanimation ritual was the only interesting enough goal they had. Just to see if they could do it, to prove… To whom? To whom did they want to prove themselves? Mary can’t remember it anymore. Death always takes something from you, even if it’s only a few memories.

”I thought a dark, powerful being with deep connections to the occult like an old Papa would be a good subject to try something new. Who knows, maybe that one would have been a perfect resurrection. I was wrong. My only perfect resurrection has been myself.”

Another sharp flick of a tail slashes the air. Goore’s black pupils focus on the ghoul, observe the way his shoulders are tense and teeth poke out from behind his lips. To the ghoul’s right, Papa Emeritus nods his head solemnly, eyelids pressed together. “You will succeed again,” he says, but there’s no encouragement in his tone.

No, that’s not meant to be comforting or kind. It’s an order, a command.

“You will succeed, or else,” Papa doesn’t say. He doesn’t have to.

Behind Goore’s back, the mix of black blood and putrid flesh begins to ooze from the bird’s corpse and drip from the corner or the table, tarnishing the ground. No grass will ever grow there.

“The second angel sounded, and as it were a great mountain burning with fire was cast into the sea: and the third part of the sea became blood, and the third part of the creatures which were in the sea, and had life, died; and the third part of the ships were destroyed.”

“Did you finish?”

The Nameless Ghoul nods. Standing right in front of Papa Emeritus IV, the creature is tall, taller than most humans on earth. To its right, another Ghoul stands still, gaze obscured behind the opaque glass of the mask. There are red splotches on the surface, coating it with an acidic smell.

Outside, the water runs in a crimson color. Papa said not to make a mess, but creatures like the ghouls are hungry and wild. They don’t know how to control their most primal instinct, how to resist the deep yearn for hot violence and tender flesh.

There’s no use reprimanding them. “Take the blood to Goore,” he commands, instead. “Make sure it’s still fresh.”

“As you wish,” the smaller ghoul replies. “Anything else?”

Shaking his head, Papa turns around. “Tomorrow,” he states, extending one finger in their direction. The creatures follow it with their heads. “Go for another hunt tomorrow. It’s better if we take precautions, just in case Goore requires more materials.”

“Yes, your Dark Eminence.”

Without any more words, they leave. Outdoors, a crimson sea of dead bodies covers the earth, soon to become nothing but embers that will feed the funeral pyre for long days and nights.

“The third angel sounded, and there fell a great star from heaven, burning as it were a lamp, and it fell upon the third part of the rivers, and upon the fountains of waters; and the name of the star is called Wormwood: and the third part of the waters became wormwood; and many men died of the waters, because they were made bitter.“

It never rains anymore.

Still as death, the sky remains gray for most of these days. The dark clouds float gracefully in the horizon, immobile, waiting.

Just like the sky has stopped and the clouds have decided to halt too, Copia’s heart lays still most of the time. The pain has subsided, leaving behind nothing but a never-ending emptiness. Hollow as he is, he craves. The hunger is constant, a dull ache that eats and eats and eats whatever it can find in its way.

Unforgiving, the emptiness is maybe indeed worse than the pain. Copia misses it, sometimes. He misses the sweet relief of being able to feel, of experiencing dread and sadness, endless anger or, long ago, happiness, bliss.

Oh, how much he misses the sound of laughter and talking echoing through the Ministry’s halls. The songs, the music, the sweet whine of the guitar or the deep rumbling of the drums he misses too. A core part of him has been clawed out of his chest, forcing him to become a vacant puppet.

No, not a puppet anymore.

Not a copy, either.

Copia doesn’t know what or who he is anymore. Someone who wants blood and glory, maybe? Blood, he has it. Now, glory…

He can’t fool anyone. This is not a matter of glory anymore. At first, he thought by avenging you he’d find peace and bring justice to your feet. Hell, he wanted to put the whole word right below you if you only hinted of desiring so. Now, it doesn’t matter anymore. Copia no longer recognizes himself in the mirror most days, and a part of him doubts if you’d recognize him.

For all one knows, you wouldn’t. Maybe you would see right through him, or look into his eyes as if those were the eyes of a stranger. A part of him wishes for that to be the case. He knows someone as divine as you, as full of joy and beauty would only be tainted by him, stained with pestilence and decay.

A heavy book is set on the coffee table in front of him. There is a dense layer of dust coating the velvety binding, obscuring the golden letters. “Should I bring anything else, Sir?”

It smells like rain when the ghoul leans in closer, perhaps to listen to the faint words that Papa mumbles under his breath. “No,” he whispers, before repenting. “I mean, stop. Take a seat with me.”

Full of reluctance, the Nameless Ghoul obeys. The chair lets out a harsh screech when it’s dragged on the wooden floor, before the creature sits at the edge of the seat. He seems wary, confused even. There are no signs of aggression in him, but Copia can see the dark red splotches dirtying his mask.

Over the cracking of the fireplace, Copia struggles to recover his voice. He has no idea why he ordered the creature to stay, if it’s because he seeks company or because he has an undying curiosity. And so, he asks. “Tell me, how is Satan?”

“How?”

The uncertainty coats that word. The ghoul’s head leans to one side, motionless mask conveying the feeling. Copia himself feels disorientated, hazy. His mind is everywhere, haunted by lack of proper sleep and ghostly nightmares. Some days, he dreams and hears voices; he sees the sky breaking in a thousand pieces and the ground shattering under his feet.

Absent-mindedly, his gloved hands reach for the book. His fingers open it on a random page, tracing the edge of an image painted in black ink. There are some annotations made on the corners of the page, on neat cursive handwriting. Time has made most of it fade, melt into the yellow paper.

“Yes, how is he?” Papa repeats. “Have you ever spoken to him?”

In front of him, the Ghoul doesn’t laugh. Still, a weird rumble escapes his mouth. His shoulders relax only a bit, but the air of perplexity remains. “You must have a strange conception of Hell if you think I have. We ghouls belong to the upper circles, and someone as important as a King of Demons belongs to the lower parts.”

“So you don’t know him.”

“I’ve seen him a few times. Heard stories here and there, but I must not speak of them.”

As always, no matter how hard Copia reaches for the truth, he never finds it. It reminds him of his time as a student, of spending long afternoons in the tunnels underground with his nose buried in a book, being interrupted only by Imperator placing a cup of tea or hot chocolate next to him.

Copia doesn’t want to think about Imperator anymore. He’d rather not recall her at all, but it’s hard when her handwriting covers most of the margins of the book, filling them with comments and highlights.

“Satan, Adversary, fire illuminated spirit of darkness and light, whose touch illuminates clay, who is the ancient serpent, rise up in me father!” She underlined. Copia’s pupils focus on it for long seconds. “I will ascend to Heaven. Above the stars, I will raise my throne. There is no God beside me.”

“Sister Imperator used to say I had Satan’s eyes, whatever that meant for her,” he utters, at last. “She said He would listen to me if I spoke to Him, for we were connected.”

“You are Papa for a reason, after all.”

“I have doubted it, lately.”

He has grown sour, resentful of these worn books that lay on his lap and of humanity in general. He has become a poison that sweeps on the ground and infects the water, condemning many souls to the lake of fire. If he was ever the chosen one, Satan’s favorite or whatever lie Imperator fed him for years, that is long gone. He has fallen from grace, a burning star turned meteorite, ready to destroy himself and implode the earth in the process.

Copia will burn, sooner or later, but the whole world will accompany him.

A smidge of bitterness coats the air. Sensing the conversation has died, the ghoul stands up slowly before speaking up. “As blasphemous as it is, I must admit you remind me of Him.”

“Is it the eyes?”

“No. Satan was also bitter and covered in blood.”

“And the fourth angel sounded, and the third part of the sun was smitten, and the third part of the moon, and the third part of the stars; so as the third part of them was darkened, and the day shone not for a third part of it, and the night likewise.”

Things go bump in the dark.

In the adjacent room, behind a heavily locked door, things bump against the walls before falling to the ground.

“Tell it to stop staring at me,” Goore orders, as soon as Papa sets foot in the mausoleum. He’s not accompanied by any ghoul, and the lack of guardians makes him look smaller, mortal. A mere man, old and drained, bearing a tortured soul.

“I commanded him to keep an eye on you.”

“Well, that it does.”

Another knock comes from the room. Then, scratches on the wooden door. The ghoul doesn’t react. His massive figure remains sat on the chair, barely fitting in it. He’s tall, almost a giant in human standards. Even if his presence is mostly calm, Goore can feel the intensity of that stare never leaving their back.

Under their breath, Mary curses. To have Papa Emeritus here can’t be good, not when the process had to be sped up this much. The ritual is complicated, messy, and painful for the recipient. If Papa loses it, if he witnesses something he mustn’t, then all their effort would have been in vain.

For the time being, Papa does his best to ignore the sound. If he’s intrigued, at least he doesn’t mention it. Those dark eyes dart to the doorway at the end of the corridor, focus on the wood before returning to the necromancer. “I assume you received my gifts, si?”

Mary’s smile is wide, almost sheepish. Their fingers smooth out a feather on the recently finished taxidermy crow. Half of it is skin and black feathers, while the other half is a skeleton. A reminder, perhaps, of the duality of life and death.

“You didn’t have to,” they reply, waving a hand. “It was put to good use. We are making progress.”

“If only I could…”

A click of their tongue kills any other words Papa might have wanted to state. “I already said no.”

Another impact. Goore inhales a deep breath, letting the air come out through their nose slowly. A constant screech fills their ears and mind, voices uttering one over the other in a never-ending buzzing. The damned souls ride Papa Emeritus’ shadow, stand behind him like a funeral procession, shrieking and crying.

Even worse, your own soul screams in the other room. Goore recognizes the pain and despair, the feeling of crawling around the dark while suffering from hunger and thirst, searching for any hand to squeeze. They understand, but wish you would simple shut the fuck up for a few minutes while they are trying to maintain a conversation.

A second loud bump echoes down the hall.

Well, you are a curse. You grant them no peace.

“What’s that?” Papa Emeritus inquires, hair moving to follow the shift of his head. His pupils finally shot in the direction of the door, squinting hard as if he could penetrate the walls.

Fuck. Here goes nothing.

“Your partner.”

Mary can recognize the shift in the air, the sudden cold atmosphere that dominates the mausoleum now. The ghoul seems to also notice the change in energy because his tail suddenly stills, flickering once before resuming a measured, careful pace. He’s alert, prepared to execute any order.

To Goore’s relief, Papa doesn’t command any violence. Quite the contrary. He looks overwhelmed, almost frail. His lids are wide open, pupils trembling inside the mismatched irises. There’s a severe semblance on his face, nearly mortuary, and his hands remain clutched in front of his chest.

“Are they… Is it…” Copia stutters, taking one step forward and two backwards.“Are they back?”

“Yes and no,” Mary replies, raising their voice when Papa gathers the courage to start walking towards the door.“I’m not done yet!”

“Are they hurt? Can I see them?”

There’s no sense in arguing with a man who’s spiraling into despair. Yet, Mary can’t risk the whole ritual just to accommodate his needs. Whole body pressed against the massive door, they raise one hand in order to stop the other in their approach. From the other side, Mary feels your nails scratching the surface and it makes their ears hurt so much they might bleed.

“You can’t,” Goore reminds, through pressed teeth and clenched jaw. It all hurts so fucking much. “You have to trust me.”

“I don’t!”

The ghoul abruptly stands up upon hearing Papa’s voice. The chair produces a thunderous noise when it falls to the ground, raising a cloud of dust. Goore knows their worth. They had years of stupid fights both inside and outside the Ministry, but they equally know there’s no way they could win against that ghoul.

It’s massive. Then, calling some corpses up to defend them would take too much time. Staring right into Papa Emeritus’ eyes, they lift both hands in a clear demonstration of peace. “I get it,” they affirm, softly. “But you have to. I’m not your enemy here.”

“You’re not a friend, either.”

No. Copia doesn’t have friends. He never had. He used to spend long afternoons sitting beside a large tree, feeding the stray rats and other vermin that roamed through the Ministry. Some people were kind to him, of course, but that kindness felt more like a formality than anything else.

Copia doesn’t need friends. Especially not friends like Mary Goore.

A smile is all they offer. Their body is still shoved on the door, raw wood biting at their back. “I said I’d do this and am planning on it. You know rituals like this are forbidden for a reason. There’s a price to pay.”

“I don’t want them to be in pain.”

“Too late for that. Both death and birth are excruciating, lonely processes.”

Papa yields. His hands remain clutched over his chest, but his head falls and the long strands of hair obscure his face. “Alright,” he nods.“Si, alright.”

One step, then another. Papa is half way into the hall when another crash vibrates against the door. His feet halt, before gradually resuming their slow pace.

Until the whispering comes. “Copia.”

It’s a screeching, guttural voice. It doesn’t sound anything like you, but Copia recognizes it anyway. He would recognize it anywhere, here and in the end of the world, dead or alive. His soul would heed your call anywhere, both heaven and hell, all the way through the purgatory.

Goore swallows once before the air is knocked out of their lungs. From behind Papa’s body, they distinguish the ghoul waiting at the end of the hall, debating whether or not to interfere. For the moment being, the creature just stands there, sharp nails and white fangs gleaming under the faint golden light. Behind the glass, those pupils are two reflective dots, emitting a glow on the otherwise completely obscured face.

Even if Goore doesn’t want to feel fear, they must admit the bile is gradually rising. They swallow once, then twice, but nothing loosens the knot in their throat. Papa’s body is a substantial weight on them, and his hands squeeze hard on their neck.

Fuck. Things are incredibly messy.

“Copia”

A clattering sound.

“Copia”

A hissing, gurgling snarl.

“Copia!”

Shit. They can be messier.

“Open the door, Goore.” Papa growls, quietly. Somehow, the serenity in his voice is worse than him yelling. There’s no emotion there, nothing but the promise of pain and violence. Even if Mary can find a way to come back, it would be wiser to avoid getting on his bad side.

“I’m not going to fight you,” they mutter. Quick eyes dart from one corner of the corridor to the other, analyzing the options. None of them is worthy. For now, the best is to comply. If hell falls over them, then Goore will welcome it with open arms and a beaming smile. “If that’s what you want, so be it.”

A key dangles in front of Papa Emeritus’ face. With unsteady hands, he takes it before Goore rushes out of the way. The trembling of his fingers makes it almost impossible to insert the key in the small lock.

One turn. Papa gathers in a deep breath. Mary’s pupils dwell on his back, staring with a piercing gaze. A step back after the other, they retrocede until their body hits something hard, big. The Nameless Ghoul stands before them, obstructing any exit.

Fuck.

Before Papa can complete another turn, a high-pitched, painful scream pierces the air. From sheer shock, the key falls from Copia’s hands as he jumps backward, almost tripping on his feet. The sounds are gurgles and growls, almost inhuman.

To his gut-wrenching horror, Papa fathoms he can no longer recognize any hint of your voice. No, it doesn't sound like a person. It's like a wounded animal or an ancient demon, something wicked and malevolent, an archaic curse.

The frigid breeze hits Copia’s face when he turns around, pupils desperately searching for anything to land on. His gaze hardens when it falls on Goore and, without any need to await for an order, the ghoul’s large hands are placed on their shoulder. Those long, sharp claws dig on the flesh, not strong enough to pierce the thin skin but still a bruising grip.

“Do something! You are hurting them,” Papa Emeritus accuses. A faint glow emits from his pale eye, casting shadows on his face. In the poorly lit room, he looks far much older than he is. The wrinkles are deep, full of worry, and his cheeks are gaunt.

“Me? You are the one who wanted this, remember? If there’s someone here who has condemned them to this, it’s not me. It's all you.”

For long moments, silence falls on the mausoleum. The muffled rumble coming from behind the door is faint, buzzing like a beehive. Goore lets out a hiss when the sharp nails squeeze his shoulders with barely more pressure.

Resistance is pointless. The ghoul doesn’t let him go. Those eyes, hidden behind opaque glass, remain on Papa Emeritus’ figure, waiting.

“But…I didn't want them to be in pain.”

It's pathetic. So pathetic, Goore practically feels like laughing in his face. Copia’s voice is a whisper, words mumbled together under his breath. There’s a helpless look on his eyes, a distant gaze.

“No, not pain. It's pure agony. Believe me, I suffered it. But this is what you wanted. We come to this world screaming and covered in blood, why would this be different?”

A sharp wail echoes in the hall, pulsating against the exposed stone walls. Copia’s hands immediately dart up to cup his ears, in a futile attempt to shelter himself from the sound. His lips quiver and his pupils are a dot inside the extremely big irises. The muscles on his neck tense when he swallows, falling back a few steps.

Copia’s legs tremble so hard it looks like he’s about to break down into pieces. He seems to be about to faint, and the ghoul debates whether to continue holding Goore in place or try to assist his master.

“What have I done?” Copia whimpers, at last. “Oh, Satan. What have I done?”

Collapsing on the ground, Papa’s body presses on the door. From this close he can clearly hear your screams and detect the way your nails relentlessly scratch the ground and wood. His whole body shakes when something, your head, bangs against the door.

“Stop it,” he whispers, through sobs. “Please, amore, stop it. I’m begging you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

It doesn’t work. If the sound of his voice installs a new rage in you, he can’t understand it. The sole thing Copia is aware of is the way the banging becomes louder, faster, making the door violently rattle with each impact.

Yet, he tries to reach out to you. “Amore, it's me. I’m here now,” a long pause. He breathes in, but there’s no oxygen in his lungs. “Please, I’m begging you. Stop. I’m sorry.”

Feeling Papa Emeritus’ rage slowly die down, the ghoul unhands Goore. They move away quickly, rubbing over a particularly sore spot as they mumble curses under their breath. A sharp pain runs up their arms when their nails dig too deep into the palms, leaving behind red marks. On the desk, the taxidermy crow caws one time before the neck breaks and it collapses on the worn surface, nothing but a mess of bones and feathers.

Outside, the sun falls behind the horizon, plunging the world into darkness. The night has arrived, in the form of a vast starless sky. Copia looks out of the window for a few seconds, before his palms press on his face. Eyes narrowed, he allows his head to fall back and descends into a fake sense of tranquility. Not even the bugs disturb the quietness of the night.

By the time the banging stops, he’s completely numb. Goore is nowhere to be seen. Sat on the chair, the ghoul only stares.

“And I beheld, and heard an angel flying through the midst of heaven, saying with a loud voice, ‘Woe, woe, woe, to the inhabitants of the earth by reason of the other voices of the trumpet of the three angels, which are yet to sound!’”

Ps: I might share some fun facts/references later if you wanna. Guess who Mary Goore used to date or something ♥

#ghost band #ghost band fanfic #papa emeritus iv x reader #antichrist copia #evil copia #cardinal copia x reader #papa emeritus iv #my writing #my fics #you forever fic

107 notes · View notes

ambrial-blog · 2 years

Text

My Devoted Guardian: All Hell Breaks Loose Part 4:

The scarlet imp smacks into his chest, temporally winding the cowboy, it isn't long before the snake imp is on top of him, wrestling him to the ground, binding his wrists behind his back and dragging him by his feet back into the three bedroom apartment. His fork-tongue flicking out as he drags Blitzo down the narrow corridor and into the bathroom and shuts the door.

Striker pulls off his boots and throws the into the corner. Draping Blitzo over the lip of the tub filling the tub with scolding hot water: the steam rises up tickling his nose as Blitzo continues to struggle.

The Outlaw's tail constricts around Blitzo's legs rendering the imp immobile, the Cowboy stand behind him in nothing but his shorts: which were black and tight seemingly painted on.

" I was a fool for trusting you!, you realize what we hand during the harvest moon festival was nothing but for show! It was a one night only performance Cowboy, you've should've seen your dipshit face! Blitzo cackles.

"Hmm, I'm not the one tied up, Blitzy you've better watch your mouth darlin, before I shove a bar of soap down that pretty little throat of yours" The Serpent purrs.

"A distraction which I welcomed, sugar-cube, while you were gloating I was plotting my next move. "you left the prince unguarded anything could happen to him now and do you think that I'm the only one gunning for that flighty bird?" "What better way to defeat an adversary then sully the name of his love interest"

"you just need a little coaxing, and that ditsy blueblood will be a thing of the past" "That night, if I recall you were my private wet dream come to life, I rode you all night despite the prince getting away. I had you screaming my name as I thrusted deep within you"

"You might've thought I went away empty handed, but I didn't I slipped away knowing I claimed you and I will claim you again if I have to" he says nipping Blitzo's neck to prove a point.

"Its time to cool off, sugar-cube I'm not letting you get away this time" "Tonight, you've got your own Cowboy to keep ya entertained. "The more you smell like me, the better off you'll be" "Then Loan me your cologne! and back the fuck off snarls Blitzo not liking how close Striker was getting.

"Now I have to wash the stench of blueblood off of ya, before presenting you to Stella" if she catches a whiff of her husband on ya, she shred ya to pieces.

Blitzo groans feeling Striker's knee press into his spine, the snake imp grips Blitzo by the back of the neck and slams his head into the porcelain tub. Blitzo cries out in pain, but Striker is behind him, kneeling on his legs.

But that wasn't all he felt poking him in the back, icy dread settles into his stomach as the Wrangler continued to toy with him. Creating shallow cuts, and Knicks slicing into his skin crating long shallow cuts. Blood pooled around him, and Striker didn't even flinch. The cuts would burn upon impact. the peach-skinned imp held his head. As Blitzo's vision blurred. "I must've mated ya real good partner, heard the midguts chewing your ass about our little romp in the sheets. ya even told the hellhound of yours, she could drive. "must've made one Hellvua first impression. "Did you tell Stolas about us?. didn't think so"

"Truth is darlin you've been fighting me since the moment you submitted, you've been lying to yourself ignoring your own instincts to mate. Pushing away anyone who gets close to ya" "Your body craves my touch every inch of you is burning for me and yet her you are pursuing Stolas! "Open your eyes! Bossman, I thought he was some sort of transactional fuck toy, something to Aleve your aggression and here you are taking him out on dates! "Your spoken for! or have you forgotten!" "Your the same.. same as him, I fuck you to protect Stolas and-"

"He left ya, he has a family to take care of I'm not letting you sell yourself cheap! I am here to collect you! you could be happy, leave all this behind. "We could start a family, just let him go"

The Business agreement is over, Striker says submerging Blitzo into the blistering waters. The Boss imp splutters water as Striker continues to dunk him. Blitzo arms are wrapped around Striker's muscular arm.

"And I'll keep fighting the urge you fucking bastard!" Blitzo cries out. "I don't care how much pain I am in, its nothing compared to tonight" Striker growls punching Blitzo across the face. Pulling Blitzo up out of the tub peeling back his wet jacket and running his claws down the Boss imp's neck.

"If its pain ya want Boss, I can oblige ya"

Blitzo cries out in pain as Striker runs his claws down his neck creating small rivulets of blood which the snake imp chases with his mouth. the hot copper against his forked tongue sent a jolt of pleasure down Striker's spine. "I'll fight you with everything I have" Blitzo says, breathlessly panting. Shivering as Striker unclasps his belt. Blitzo shrinks into a ball. continuing to struggle as Striker pulled down his pants, Blitzo's knees buckle out from underneath him as Striker grips him. "I could fill ya up real good partner, make ya feel real nice" the sound of his voice was like dark honey. Blitzo knew was in trouble.

He could feel Striker's member glide across the mounds of his ass.

The scarlet imp whimpers pitifully a sharp whine in his voice. The friction was intense: Blitzo's blood burns with need. A coil of lust sinks into his abdomen. Striker was driving him wild.

"Striker! ST-stop this!"

Blitzo screams as Striker shoves his full length into his ass. he could feel Striker's teeth graze across his skin as the cowboy continues to thrust. Blitzo's screams falling upon deaf ears. And then it was back into the water: Striker had torn away from Blitzo, harshly forcing Blitzo to his knees. Each thrust was more aggressive then the last.

Blitzo gripped the tub, trying to keep his head afloat. the hot water: was torture. By the time Striker was finished with Blitzo the water had turned tepid.

The Boss imp groans, his eyes opening squinting through the harsh lighting of the bathroom his head flops to the side as he watches as Striker rummages through the cupboards. His mind was jumbled. "It was just one night, one meaningless night"

"how could things have gotten so out of control" "My body hurts, it hurts to think"

"I thought you were the one, the one who could see through me and know- but all you want is your contract. "Your talk of being mates, of having my back its all for show, your nothing but hollow promises and one-night stands, you talk about being with my own kind, don't mingle with the Goeita." "You don't own me, I'm not a plaything!" Blitzo thought. his head throbbing with pain.

"Hey dipshit! Blitzo chokes out. "Whatever your looking for is long gone, trust me"

Just to spite him, Striker shook a few bottles. "Pick your poison Blitzy"

"Please Striker you've made your point, I won't stray!" Blitzo cries.

Blitzo winces as Striker straddles him. He grips Blitzy by the horn and jerks back his head.

"No! NO! keep that thing away from me!" Striker please!"

Blitzo shrinks away with an auditable whimper, its too late he hisses feeling the pinpricks pinch his neck. Suddenly everything went black.

Striker pulls back, emptying a syringe of mixture of rohypnol and Ketamine into Blitzo's neck. "If this is the only way you will be with me, then you leave me with no choice. I'll take care of ya sugar-cube. now lets finish getting you cleaned up. "I want ya to look nice if we play our cards right than miss Stella might even hook ya up in her country estate"

#Hellvua Boss #Striker/Blitzo #Stolas/Blitzo #Hurt/comfort #hurt Blitzo

3 notes · View notes

waka-chan-out · 3 years

Text

Turning Tables

full version of this request.

post-timeskip, obviously.

word count: 2.1k

content warnings: established relationship, fem reader, edging, overstim, oral (f. receiving), fingering, brief use of bondage and hair pulling, begging, degradation, teasing, “good boy,” tsukishima is a brat, reader is a Dom with switch tendencies, creampie (i hate that word so much i’m sorry)

additional warnings: this fic contains tsukishima acting like he wants the reader to stop, but this is part of the scene. an established safe word is implied so everything is 100% consensual and has been agreed upon beforehand.

You’d had just about enough.

Tsukishima had been acting like a dick all day, kneading your upper thigh under the table while out to lunch with your friends, pulling your hair on “accident” on the car ride home, whispering dirty shit in your ear while you were out for a walk. You were ready to let him have it when you got home, but once he kissed you the realization hit that you were desperate for him to touch you.

And touch you he did, but he didn’t stop acting like a dick.

He could read you like a book after months of practice. He knew every noise and every shift of your legs. He knew when you were frustrated and he knew when you were about to come, and he abused that as much as he could.

He had started with his fingers, bringing you to the brink twice and earning himself a slap on the arm. After that, he had loosely tied your wrists to the headboard with a necktie, rendering you playfully helpless against his advances. He brought you to the edge again with his mouth, throwing his glasses to the sides and burying himself against you until you were gasping. But he wasn’t finished, so you weren’t allowed to be either.

“Kei, I swear to go—fuck,” you gasped. His fingers had joined his mouth, curling just right inside of you as he sucked harshly at your clit. That feeling to built in your stomach faster after being edged several times and you squirmed against the onslaught, unsure if you wanted to get closer or farther away. You were hoping for a lapse in his judgement, a swirl of his tongue or drag of his fingers that lasted a little too long, just enough to tip you over and let it stop. But Tsukishima Kei was too clever for that. He seemed to know more about your body than you did.

Your chest heaved as you approached the end again, getting closer, so so close, and Tsukishima withdrew his fingers and lifted his head, a smile on his face as you kicked at the mattress, hoping it would distract you from the awful throbbing between your legs.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, a teasing lilt in his voice.

“Fuck you,” you responded, though you were breathing too hard to make it convincing. He laughed.

“That’s my girl. Why don’t you just ask nicely and I’ll stop?”

“No, you won’t.”

“No,” he said through a chuckle. “I won’t.”

He pushed his fingers back into you without warning and moved them fast, much faster than he had the other times. You let out an embarrassingly loud moan and tipped your head back, breath caught in your throat. Your back arched off the bed and you thought maybe, just maybe, this was it.

But then his fingers were withdrawn, sitting between his lips instead of your thighs, and you swore loudly. He wasn’t even trying to hide his delight anymore, openly laughing at the way you squirmed.

“Jesus, you really want it, don’t you? That’s too bad. I’m having too much fun to stop now.”

You wanted to respond, but you were sure anything you said would be stupid and barely coherent. You let yourself stay quiet, unable to stop the motion of your lower body, just waiting for him to start again so you could brace yourself.

He grinned and leaned on his arms, then dipped his face down between your legs and circled his tongue over you. Everything was hyper sensitive, so much so that you felt almost immediately near the brink again. He focused his efforts on your clit, moving his tongue like he was kissing you. With another strong suck he pulled away and you had the sudden urge to slap him across the face. Your frustration was starting to overshadow the ache between your legs. You tugged at the knots around your wrists and realized they were even looser than you thought.

Tsukishima brought a hand up to play with your clit, moving in slow, wet circles that drew a long sigh from your throat. He was focused on driving you crazy and it was working, but you were more focused on getting yourself loose as quickly as possible.

He pulled away again when you let out a gasp. You stilled your hands just before he looked up at you and did your best to glare at him, but you were sure it didn’t look very convincing when your face was bright red and your chest was heaving.

“I think I’ll let you go soon, sweetheart,” he said. He sunk two fingers into you while holding your gaze, and your face screwed up as you swore. “Not yet though,” he said, then returned his face between your legs.

Your hands were loose. You’d let him have his fun, just one more time, but then it was your turn. You let yourself feel it, even though it took barely any time at all for you to rocket back to the edge. He withdrew quickly, but this time you grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled him up to look at you.

“My turn,” you snapped. “Get on your back.” You were surprised you managed to sound so aggressive when you were the one who was panting. He held up his hands in surrender, smirk on his face.

“That desperate, huh?” he asked, flopping onto the bed and putting his arms behind his head. “Fine, have your fun.”

You threw a leg over him and rolled your eyes, immediately sinking down onto his cock. You tried your best to choke down the relieved moan that left you but it escaped anyway, muffled and desperate. Tsukishima smiled smugly, though there was a new furrow in his brow, showing he wasn’t as unaffected as he wanted you to believe.

“So hungry for me,” he teased. “Go on, why don’t you show me what you wanted? If you’re this desperate I may as well enjoy the show.”

You rolled your eyes and let yourself rise and fall in his lap. You were already so close that every downward motion left like it would be the one to push you over, but it could never quite get you there. It was so fucking frustrating, but there was one upside: Tsukishima looked even more fucked out than you did.

He was sensitive all over his body, but especially between his legs. That’s why he liked edging you so much. It made things easier on him, so when he finally fucked you he could chase your release rather than fight off his own. But here you were, edged within an inch of your sanity, and he was the one getting off.

You kept your eyes trained on him, watching smugly as his eyes closed and head tipped back. He wouldn’t give you the satisfaction of hearing him — not yet, anyway — but you could see his thoughts written all over his face. He was the one who was close.

“You don’t look so smug now, Kei,” you laughed. “What’s wrong?”

He shot you a nasty look — as nasty as it could be when his body was betraying him. His chest heaved and his hands fell to grip your thighs, a little too tight for a man unaffected.

“I can see you’re close, Kei. Why don’t you cum for me? I wanna feel you inside of me.”

He let out a weak “fuck,” and his hips twitched.

You stopped the up and down motion, instead grinding your hips against him as he came. He stayed frozen for a moment, embracing the new feeling, then relaxed and patted your leg.

“Come on,” he said. “You’ve had your fun.”

“Aw, only have one for me? After all that teasing? No, no, Kei. I think you can give me another.”

“What—oh, fuck.” His body shuddered and his head tipped back against the bed as you continued riding him properly

“See? You don’t want me to stop, do you? If you wanted to stop after one you wouldn’t have teased me so much.”

The noises escaping him were short and breathy. They ended in a moan, so quiet he was probably hoping you couldn’t hear them, but deep down he knew you could.

“I’m not done with you until I say so. If that means I ride you until you can’t speak then that’s what’ll happen.”

He didn’t respond, instead letting out a long groan. He flinched as you raked your nails down his chest. It was soon followed by a sharp “fuck!” and he came again. He looked so pretty with sweat beading on his forehead and a desperate panic on his face. You smiled and leaned down, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look at you.

“Kei.”

He furrowed his brows, eyes hazy. You smiled pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Why don’t you get on top? How does that sound?”

“I can’t,” he whispered, looking seriously into your eyes.

“You can. And you will.”

He shuddered.

“Kei. Now.”

“Move,” he grumbled. You laughed at his reluctance and fell back on the bed, pulling him down with you with hands looped around his neck. You wrapped your legs around him and pressed your forehead against his.

“I want you to make yourself cum again, and then I want you to keep going.”

He inhaled a sharp breath as you squeezed your legs tighter, pushing him inside of you. He was barely able to mask the pained noise that escaped his throat. His hips shifted slowly, hesitation evident in every movement. He was still so sensitive, too sensitive. He wanted so badly to stop, but he couldn’t let himself.

“Come on, Kei, do you think that’s going to make me come? Why don’t you fuck me for real?”

He groaned and dipped his head down so he was buried into the crook of your neck. You carded a hand through his hair as your legs just wrapped tighter around him, rocking him towards you and keeping his hips in motion.

“No, no, Kei. Don’t stop. I’m so close.”

The sound Tsukishima made was almost pathetic, desperate and whiny, cracking at the highest point like he couldn’t push noise out of his throat in one breath. His hips moved hesitantly, like he was trying not to burn himself. It was almost funny, watching him attempt to act unaffected while his shaking gave away everything. He was on the brink, brain filling with static as he thrust into you.

“That’s my good boy.” You ran a hand through his hair and turned your face so you were whispering in his ear. “Isn’t it so much easier like this? When you fuck yourself stupid? Why don’t we cum together?”

He let out a moan and tightened his grip on you. You laughed at the obvious answer.

“You’ll have to fuck me better than this, then. If you cum before me I’ll make you keep going until you can’t cum anymore.”

“No! Please. I can do it.”

“That’s my boy. Come on, then. Make me cum.”

Tsukishima pushed up on shaky arms and shifted his weight onto one side, running his tongue over two fingers on his opposite hand and using them to circle your clit. You were still oversensitive from the endless edging, and you felt yourself climb faster than you thought was possible.

“Kei, baby. You’re gonna make me cum.”

“Please,” he breathed. “I wanna feel it.”

“You will, baby. You just need to be good.”

“I’m good. I promise I’m good.”

Your body was filled with heat and it became harder for you to think.

“Then cum for me, Kei. Cum inside me. Fuck.”

Pleasure racked your body and your vision went hazy as you tipped over the edge. Tsukishima followed you and let out the most desperate, strangled moan you’ve ever heard fall from his lips and buried himself against you. His breaths were ragged and sounded pained. You lay in silence for a moment, chests heaving and brains hazy. When he seemed to have calmed down a bit, he peered up at you. His eyes were glazed over but incredibly content. You knew that flash of vulnerability would disappear as soon as his high wore off, so you could help cupping his face in your hands and watching his lips twitch upward.

“That’s my good boy,” you said, stroking his sweaty hair out of his face. An embarrassed smile crossed his face and he hid his face against your skin. “Act like a brat like you did today again and I’m not letting you off this easy.”

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

like what you read? leave a tip!

to be added to my tag list, shoot me an ask.

tag list: @april-avenue @kitastowel @yougivemeglobalwarming @ohno-otome @gourmetrat @tanzaniiite @antique-remains @imbearlythere @serenitycushing (you’re technically not on my tag list but i thought you’d like this one doll)

#god i’m finally posting this fic #it’s been in my drafts for a thousand years #anyway HAPPY BIRTHDAY TSUKKI #i got it posted with two hours to spare #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima kei smut #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima smut #tsukishima x reader #tsukki smut #tsukki x reader

596 notes · View notes

godwrecks · 3 years

Note

can i req nsfw tsukishima x f reader with overstimulation, breedinng and belly bulge kink please? shsha i know it's so dirty but 👉👈

thank you in advance!

𝗧𝘀𝘂𝗸𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗺𝗮 - 𝗜𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗦𝗵𝗶𝘁

tags; breeding. belly bulge kink. overstimulation. degradation.

word count: 1.4k

Where you were tuned into the movie playing in front of you, Tsukki had turned to drawing circles on your thigh, slowly and methodically, like nearly everything he does. Though you didn’t question it, he was the one to recommend the movie, so it was odd for you to be more interested in it than him - usually it was the other way around, considering his peculiar choices.

The careful tracing of his calloused fingers morphed into a harsher motion, gripping your thigh as his hand continued moving further in, eventually reaching the waistband of your panties under the oversized sweater.

“Baby?” You looked at him questioningly, suspecting his intentions.

“Hm?” His answer was plain and dry despite him lifting up the fabric and exposing your stomach to the light breeze through the room. “What are you doing?” You chuckled sweetly, patting his head gently before weaving your fingers through his blond hair.

“What do you think?” He looked down at you with a sly smile, finally meeting your eyes. His pointer finger dragged painfully slowly down your abdomen, stopping at the lower portion where he pressed his palm flat against the skin.

“Tsukki, you’ve wanted to watch this movie before it even came out,” you raised your eyebrows, but you couldn’t deny you were entertaining the thought.

“And? I could be doing more important shit right now,” he whispered in your ear before nibbling your earlobe, a spot he knew would render you weak. You tried to utter another complaint, but his hot breath against your neck distracted you long enough for his hand to go unnoticed, at least until he found your clit. You quickly grabbed onto his shoulders, biting down your lip to muffle the moans threatening to spill. He was a master when it came to using his fingers, there was no doubt about it. The teasing, slow circling around your clit could drive you to absolute ruins, and the man was too well aware of it.

“You know what I’ve been thinking?” His voice was husky and raw, so unlike the soft touch of his fingers as he spread your folds open, venturing to where you clenched around emptiness, aching for more.

“W-what, Tsukki?” You managed to gaze up at him right before he leaned down further against you, forcing you to lay down beneath him on the couch. Within a few seconds of pushing his digits past your tightness, your back arched in pleasure as he curled his fingers inside you, reaching a sensitive area. “Not there, please.”

Your pathetic whimper was nothing but music to his ears, a plea he would not care to listen. “Not there, baby? You seem to enjoy it so much, though,” the corners of his mouth lifted as he fingered you even faster, making sure to plunge his fingers deep enough.

“Please,” you gritted your teeth and your legs began to tremble, a familiar tightness already pulling on your lower abdomen.

Tsukishima gave you nothing but a fake pout as he looked down at you, running his free hand through your hair to hold you in place. “You’re gonna come for me, won’t you? That’s what my pretty mutt does,” his mocking tone had your eyes go glassy with tears, but your cunt clamped down on his fingers as you began covering them in your cum. Screams echoed through the room as you rode your high on his hand, soon turning into weak sobs when he moved onto your sensitive clit, stroking it much too harshly for your current state.

“No, please, no more,” you swallowed back in panic, holding onto his arm in hopes he’d stop, that he’d take pity on you.

“No more, princess?” He repeated back to you as if you were too dumb to understand what you were requesting, but the light caressing of his knuckles against your cheek was delicate, enough so to make you lean into his touch as you nodded. “I see what you want, then,” he hummed, lowering down his sweatpants to where his cock sprung out. “Dumb whore wants my cock, is that right?” He let out a laugh - a deep, dark laugh that sent your thighs shutting closed.

Tsukishima clicked his tongue disapprovingly, forcing them apart like it was nothing. “Behave,” it was all he grumbled before his cock slid inside you in a powerful thrust, filling you to the brim. Fingernails digging into the skin of his shoulders, you cried out for him to give you time to adjust, though he always managed to mold your pussy into the perfect shape for him. He leaned down enough for your lips to brush together, though he didn’t kiss you. “Will you keep being a brat, or do you want me to breed you full, hm?”

When he pulled out all the way to the tip just to ram back in and gain a rhythm, the closeness of your mouths didn’t allow you to differentiate where your moans ended and where his begam. All you knew was that his cock inside you was the closest to perfection you’d ever get.

“No...I’ll behave for you,” it was difficult to even muster a sentence when he managed to reach your every spot with each of his thrusts. “So, please, please fill me up, please breed me,” you panted pathetically, the lewd sound of your pussy sucking him back in making you flush with shame.

And he loved it, he loved every part of it and every part of you. His small and arrogant snicker was completely overshadowed by his abdomen rubbing against your clit each time he drove in. Tsukishima immediately noticed your incoming orgasm when you held on tighter to him, hooking your leg on his shoulder and stretching you so he could get you there the way he wanted to. “You gonna cum, baby? I know you are, little one, so cum with me,” he grunted as his hips stuttered in their path, his pace becoming random and sporadic. But you barely noticed, too drunk from your cunt spasming around his cock, beginning to drip with cum when you both felt it wash over you - the pure ecstasy only this could make you feel.

Tsukki’s eyes were glued onto your belly, watching it bulge as you milked every last bit of cum from him. His large palm pushed against it, and you felt him twitch inside you. “There it is. You look so pretty stuffed with my cum, baby. Bet you’d just love for me to actually breed you, huh?”

When he jostled forward to tap into your sensitive spot, your hands flew to your face to cover it. Not wanting his view to be ruined, Tsukishima ripped them apart from your flushed cheeks, grinding against your clit. You gasped at the friction, much too tender now for his roughness. “What do you think, baby? You’re such a good little slut, you wouldn’t even put up a fight if I got you pregnant right now,” he laughed crudely, rocking his hips hard enough for your eyes to roll back to your skull. With your tongue leaping out, he took it upon himself to fill your dirty mouth as well, pressing his fingers against your tongue and tapping, instructing you to suck on them. “There you go, pretty girl, I’m close,” raising your other leg, he used the armrest of the couch as leverage, picking up into a brutal pace while he watched his cock disappear inside you with every squelch.

You couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t resist the orgasm rippling through you, and soon enough, over him. With messy babbles, drooling all over his fingers, you begged him to stop - but it was too late, you were already squirting all over his cock. “You’re gushing all around me, that excited?” Tsukishima grinned, having sent you over the edge. He slowly pulled out, the creamy liquid falling down both your thighs and onto the couch. Leaning down, he peppered several kisses over your bloated tummy, kneading it softly before he sat you up and held you in his arms.

You collapsed next to him, trying to regain your scattered breaths. It was only until a few minutes had passed while he slowly rubbed your back that you looked up at him. “I’m gonna need a Plan B, you know,” you joked, kissing his cheek.

“Or you could just let it be, you know I’d love that,” he offered instead, fully serious despite his cocky smile.

“I know you would way too much.”

definitely hated the way i wrote this, but i hope you at least enjoyed it somewhat. thank you so much for the request <3

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #hq x y/n #hq x reader #hq smut #hq smau #hq tsukishima #tsukishima x you #tsukishima imagine #tsukishima x reader #tsukki imagines #tsukki smau #tsukki smut #tsukishima smut #haikyuu writing

1K notes · View notes

shig-a-shig-ah · 3 years

Text

GOOD CLEAN FUN

» pairing: chisaki kai x fem!reader

» cw: noncon, somnophilia, oral sex, medical kink, needles (brief mention) 18+, minors DNI.

» a/n: Quirkless AU! This was written for the BNHA Degeneracy 9 to 5 Server collab.

» wc: 5k

» ao3 mirror

Dentistry is a disgusting profession. It makes Chisaki's skin crawl, the poor care people take of themselves, and he frequently regrets being pushed into this family business of staring down filthy gullets all day, though he takes sadistic pleasure in refusing to be gentle with the worst of his patients. Why should he be, when they obviously have such disregard for their own health and hygiene? No, in those cases he takes great satisfaction in ripping the rot out by the root with nothing but pliers and his own brute strength.

Some days, though...some days there are patients like you, who make it all worth while. Patients who are clean.

You make yourself such an easy mark too, though Kai had expected as much after Kurono so slyly told him that he'd probably want to take care of the new patient in room two personally. Hari wasn't wrong; you're trembling when Kai enters the exam room, staring wide-eyed at the tray of neatly-arranged stainless steel instruments next to the chair in which you're reclining, fingertips gripping at the armrests. You're chewing at your lip too, as though your nerves weren't already apparent enough, those perfectly white, straight teeth digging into your plump lower lip in a way that's practically obscene. Even without a closer look Chisaki can tell what good care you take of that cute little mouth, and it's enough to send his cock twitching.

He takes a seat on the stool next to you as he introduces himself, careful to keep the excitement from his voice and to squint his eyes just right so that you'll know he's smiling even behind the surgical mask he wears, the one that both protects him from those much filthier than you and keeps you from seeing just how cold that grin really is. Your own smile is much more obviously forced, but he likes that you try - it's endearing that you're working hard to be brave even when you look close to tears with anxiety. Of course, he also likes that you're scared, likes that extra little bit of power over you, and that it will make all the easier for him to take advantage, because he's already decided he has to have you.

It's impossible for you to remember how or why this dentophobia started. You can only remember being dragged kicking and screaming to the dentist as a young child, your mother scolding you for refusing to behave. As you got older you managed a little more self-control, but while you can force yourself into the chair, you can do nothing to stop the way you shake and your heart races. It's only made worse by the obvious annoyance you face when practitioners have to deal with you; you know they think you're stupid or immature for this reaction you can't control.

The man before you, however, is smiling sympathetically, gold-flecked eyes crinkling with concern in a way you appreciate. He's handsome even with half his face covered, all bright eyes and perfect dark hair, and your cheeks heat up when he asks if you're nervous. You force out a meek nod, and he chuckles softly.

"No need to be self-conscious. It's a common fear," he says. "But we do offer sedation, if that's something you're interested in. It can help with the nerves."

Your brow furrows slightly. It's not an option you've been offered before, hadn't even realized it was a possibility. "Sedation? Like, put me under?"

"No," he says, chuckling softly again as he turns to the monitor by the chair and starts scrolling through what you assume is your file. "Nothing as severe as that, at least not for a routine cleaning. Just a little nitrous oxide to help take the edge off."

That you have heard of, but always thought it was only used for more intense procedures. "That's laughing gas, right?"

"That's the colloquial name for it, yes. It'll numb you some and help you relax. Although it might make you a little giggly, as the name implies. Some of my patients even enjoy it." Your face heats up again when his intense gaze lingers on you, not just with embarrassment this time, and a small titter escapes you.

Chisaki can't believe his luck with you, if he's being honest. You're exactly his type, and as he expected your dental records are flawless - never so much as a cavity. He's confident too that you'll accept what he's offering with as anxious as you are, and your reaction to his presence. He's not surprised by that; Kai knows the effect he has on people when he tries. Probably he doesn't even need to go through the great lengths he does to get people like you into a compromising position, but he enjoys the process. It's easier this way, with access to medical records so he knows what he's touching, and an army of sedatives to ensure he's perfectly in control of these encounters.

You only deliberate for a moment before nodding and giving him the answer he knew you would. "Okay, I guess I can try it."

The smile he gives you this time is actually genuine as excitement blooms in his gut. "I think you'll find it really helps," he says, daring to rest one hand on your forearm briefly. Even through the thin latex of his gloves, he can feel that your skin is soft, and he feels another pang of anticipation. Then he stands up. "I have to supervise the sedation, so I'll take care of your cleaning and exam personally. I'll be right back and then we can get started."

Your chest is still tight with anxiety as he situates you, arranging a strange mask over your nostrils and instructing you to breath deeply through your nose, but once you catch the scent of that slightly sweet gas being pumped into your lungs, the effects are almost immediate. The tension in your chest abates, your whole body going light and tingly, and suddenly you can't remember what you were ever so afraid of. When Chisaki tells you to open wide, you don't even hesitate, doing so immediately and sticking your tongue out slightly, making an exaggerated 'ahhhhh' sound and then giggling a little, though you couldn't say why.

"I can see it's working already," Chisaki says. He's unable to keep the breathiness out of his tone this time, but he trusts you're too distracted to notice. The way you'd opened so obediently, and the sight of your little pink tongue poking out lewdly has his cock hardening already, and he's only barely begun. He can't stop himself from reaching out, pushing that wet muscle back into your mouth with one finger, letting it linger on your tongue a moment longer than necessary to feel the heat of it before pulling away, but you only giggle at the slightly inappropriate act.

Despite his straining erection begging for relief, Chisaki still has a job to do, and he works with well-practiced efficiency as he goes through the process of cleaning your teeth. The anticipation is as much a part of this as anything else, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the buildup. He's not a masochist by any means, but these little self-denials are gratifying, only serve to make the end result that much sweeter. Still, he can't help but find himself occasionally distracted by the way you laugh every time he gives you an instruction to open wider, or tilt your head, noticing the way your chest bounces slightly beneath your tight top, and how you lie with your legs slightly spread, so inviting.

Normally he waits until he can render patients like you truly helpless before he touches them, recommending elaborate procedures that they don't realize are entirely unnecessary, but then again most patients don't request or accept sedation for such routine procedures as this. He reaches over to the tank of nitrous oxide, increasing the dose slightly and watching as you slump a little more in the chair, and then he reaches out to trail one gloved hand up your thigh and over your clothed center.

You've barely felt anything this whole time, aware of him working at your teeth but not really registering it, too overwhelmed by the way your whole body feels pleasantly tingly and numb, and it's only after he's ceased fussing over your mouth that you start to notice another sensation, a building tension between your thighs that makes you squirm, a small whine escaping you. Your eyes, closed to defend against the bright overhead light, flutter open, but you can't see him hovering over you anymore.

"We're almost finished," Chisaki says calmly when you whimper again as that slight pressure continues to build. "I just need to enter some notes in your file, and then finish the actual exam."

From out of your line of sight he can see the way you're frowning, your cheeks puffing up slightly with discomfort and arousal, obviously confused. He presses his fingers more firmly against your clothed cunt, palming himself through his pants with his other hand. It's bolder than he'd usually be, but for once he's struggling with restraint, just can't bring himself to wait until he's found some excuse to render you more wholly unconscious in his chair.

"I just...I feel a little funny," you whimper, and then giggle again.

"That's normal," he says, continuing to massage your sex, noticing the way your hips twitch when he strokes over just the right spot. "Some people feel numbness, or a little pressure. As long as nothing hurts, there's nothing to worry about."

You nod, letting your eyes fall closed again. You can't quite help your thighs from twitching; it's a strange feeling, the knot tightening deep in your stomach even as you feel so numb and tingly, and when it intensifies further you feel a stab of shame as you realize exactly what's happening, that you're going to cum even as you try to hold yourself back.

Kai knows it's risky, that all you'd have to do is turn your head and open your eyes to see his straining arousal, but he can't stop himself from working his pants open as quietly as possible and stroking himself properly as he watches the struggle on your face, the way you bite at your lip and obviously try to ignore the sensation, apparently ready to believe this is some spontaneous reaction to your drugged-up state and not his fingers working over you.

Despite the fact that you try to resist the sensation, the tingling in your body intensifies around your clit until your legs are shaking, the walls of your cunt fluttering around nothing and a mortifying whine escaping you. Through your giddiness, however, the humiliation is short-lived, nearly forgotten the moment you find yourself giggling at your own orgasm.

The sight of you quivering as you cum, entirely unaware of his hands on you, only further erodes Kai's patience. "I just need to take one last quick look," he says, and then without waiting for your response he's releasing his cock momentarily, using gloved fingers from both hands to pry your mouth wide again. You squirm slightly when he forces those fingers deep in your mouth, but he removes one hand just as quickly, returning those spit-soaked fingers to his throbbing shaft and fisting himself more urgently. If you can hear the faint wet sounds the action brings, he trusts that you won't question them.

Fuck, and he's close already, the sight of your pink tongue lolling against his fingers only sending the coil in his gut tightening further, and he shoves his fingers a little deeper towards the back of your throat, feeling the muscles there spasm as you gag at the invasion.

"I'm sorry if this is a bit unpleasant," he says shortly, too caught up in the way you look with his fingers probing your mouth to maintain that congenial tone. Even through the gloves he can feel the heat and wetness of your mouth, and it sends shivers down his spine. "This should only take a minute. You have a small mouth - it's difficult to see with your tongue in the way."

He presses his fingers further, not sure why he's explaining himself when you're so obviously unbothered. You're only nodding, spit running down the side of your chin as you salivate around his fingers. On most anyone else he would find the sight nauseating, but seeing your innocent face so debased only spurs him closer to his release. He squeezes his length more tightly, letting the spit-slicked palm of his gloved hand rub over his tip with every stroke, the fingers of his other hand continuing to invade his throat while you simply lay there and take it, and when you finally let out a moan of real distress at the feel of his fingers in the back of your throat, it's enough to send him over the edge, his cock spasming and hot spurts of cum shooting into his gloved hand.

The moment his cock stops twitching he withdraws his fingers from your mouth, stripping off his fouled gloves and tucking himself back into his pant before you can so much as open your eyes. When he turns back to you again, you're staring at the ceiling, grinning slightly with shiny, wet lips.

It takes a few minutes for your head to clear once he removes the mask from your face, and by then you only have the vaguest sense that anything about the experience was strange, and even then it was still vastly more pleasant than any of your prior dental experiences, albeit embarrassing in a slightly different way than usual.

Chisaki waits for you to seem cognizant before drawing your attention to the monitor by the chair. His boldness in touching you did little to truly satisfy him, only made him more eager to fuck you properly, to feel the heat of your tongue against his cock instead of his fingers, and to bury himself in that cunt that responded so sweetly to his touch.

"Your teeth are mostly in good shape," Chisaki says. "But I'm afraid you do have one small cavity. Here, see?" He points at one of your x-rays on the screen, a perfectly healthy tooth but he's confident you won't notice that, that you don't know what to look for, and sure enough you're only nodding, eyes wide. It's adorable, that fearful look on your face. He almost wishes there were a way for you to keep that expression when he has his way with you. "It's only a small one. But I'd recommend a stronger sedative for it, if your nerves are that much of a problem."

"Stronger?"

"It requires an IV," he explains, "and you wouldn't be able to drive yourself home afterwards. You'll still be conscious, technically, but you won't be aware of much."

The idea of having your tooth drilled into already has you quaking, the last traces of your buzz gone, and you agree at once. "Okay. I guess I can ask my roommate to drive me." She probably won't mind; you two do each other favors fairly regularly.

Kai's glad to hear you don't mention a boyfriend. It wouldn't matter in the end, if you had one or not, but the idea of some other man's hands on you still sends a jealous, possessive stab through him. He prefers to believe that he's the only who's touched you, that there aren't others out there tainting you with their filth.

"Great," he says, giving you another one of those reassuring smiles. "Let's get you scheduled."

***

It's a matter of days before you're back again, Kurono having conveniently found a 'cancellation' in the schedule to slot you in. He knows all about Kai's proclivities of course; they've worked together for years, well before Chisaki took over Overhaul Dentistry from his adopted father, and they've known each other even longer. Hari's stayed to watch Kai's little indiscretions once or twice, though he's more prone to lurking outside the door to listen shamelessly, knowing full well that Chisaki has no interest in sharing and would never permit him to touch what he considers his.

Chisaki is practically shaking with impatience by the time you arrive, has to take a few deep breaths to steady his trembling hands before placing the IV and pumping you full of Propofol. He's not sure he's ever been this excited about a patient, but this time around the eagerness has been killing him. He's always considered his libido healthy but not excessive, but he's stroked himself off more times in the last few days that he usually would over the course of a month, waiting for this.

You blink slowly, counting backwards until your words trail off and your eyes fall closed, and then Kai stands up, taking in the sight of you limp before him. You wore a dress today, a summery little thing that buttons from top to bottom, almost as though you'd known what you were coming here for.

He's already hard, his erection straining against the constricting fabric of his pants, but he ignores it for now and focuses on undoing those buttons, savoring each additional glimpse of skin. Your underwear is simple, white cotton panties with a hint of lace around the edges, and a matching bra. He likes them, simple and clean, just like you.

One gloved hand lifts to cup your breasts, kneading that soft flesh and then finding the bud of one nipple and rolling it between his fingers, sending it hardening. He watches your face as he does so - you're not entirely unconscious, but you won't react much, and you certainly won't remember this. Your brow is furrowing just slightly under the attention, and when he moves to toy with your other nipple he hears the faint sigh you let out, takes it as encouragement to shove that garment out of the way and reveal your pert breasts, licking his lips at the sight of the slightly darker skin of your nipples, and the way they've puckered under his attentions so invitingly. He bends and takes one in his mouth, laving his tongue over that stiff peak, biting down lightly.

A little whine escapes you this time, and the sound sends spike of heat through his cock. He knew you'd be responsive to him after the last time, but you're already exceeding his expectations. He tips his head slightly, staring at your mouth, those slightly parted lips.

He's never felt compelled to kiss anyone, all too aware of the filth present in even the cleanest of mouths, but as he stares at your lips he's surprised by the urge to do so. And he knows the risks are minimal, spent more than one of the last several evenings reading through your medical records, giving them a much more thorough evaluation than the release form you'd signed probably warranted. But he couldn't help himself, and now he knows that you take good care of the rest of yourself just like you do your mouth.

He leans forward curiously, encouraged when your lips press just a little back into his, even as your eyes stay closed. He lets his tongue snake out to trace over your mouth, probing between those lips, and you let another soft whine, though your tongue doesn't respond to his. That's okay; it's more enjoyable that he'd have expected and he deepens it anyway, relishing your taste, minty and sweet - obviously you'd prepared yourself for him. He grasps one of your hands and brings it to rub against his cock, panting as he ruts into your palm.

When he finally breaks the kiss, he's equally parts disgusted and aroused by the thin strand of saliva that connects your mouths, staring at it in fascination until it breaks.

That uncharacteristic impatience rears its head again, and Chisaki fumbles with his pants, letting his cock spring forth. He wraps your hand around it briefly, savoring the feel of your small, soft hand caressing his length, and then he moves on just as quickly. It only takes the flick of a switch to lower the chair down so that you're at waist level, and then he's tilting your head towards him, pressing the tip of his cock against those spit-slicked lips. You surprise him by poking that pink tongue out just a little, and for a minute he simple brushes the head of his glans back and forth against it, relishing the soft brush of your wet tongue, and the pleasant jolt it sends through him.

"You're a little tease, aren't you?" he whispers. Then, he pushes forward into the hot cavern of your mouth, swearing under his breath at the feel of you. You gag reflexively when he bumps against the back of your throat, but he only pulls back briefly and surges forward again, one gloved hand coming to rest in your hair gently, holding you in place as he fucks your mouth.

It's not tight without you actively sucking, but it's hot and wet, and the velvety texture of your tongue against him is more than enough. Despite trying to be gentle at first, he finds himself thrusting more roughly as his excitement grows at the sight of his length disappearing between your sweet lips, stroking your hair when you gag harder.

"Shh, now," he scolds to your unresponsive body. "Be good and take it."

It's almost as though you're listening - your head tilts back slightly to accept more of him, your throat contracting around him, and before he can help himself Kai's hips are bucking, his balls tightening and his cock contracting as his load spills down your throat. When he pulls away he can still see the last of his seed coating your tongue, and he spreads it around with his gloved fingers, entranced by the sight.

He adjusts his clothes a bit, not done with you just yet, and then circles around towards you feet. His gloved hands wander up along your thighs, squeezing at that soft flesh, and then tug you down towards him - mindful of the IV still buried in your arm - until your legs dangling off the edge of the chair. He spreads them a little, running one finger over your clothed slit. There's a damp spot at the center of your panties, and his eyes fix on it with great satisfaction.

"You really are eager, hmm?" he murmurs, letting the pad of his thumb hone in on your clit, the outline of that puffy bead visible through the damp cotton. You let out the faintest of whimpers, your hips tilting into his touch slightly, and Kai lets out a shuddering breath before bending forward and burying his face between your thighs, letting his lips move lightly over your covered cunt, catching your clit between his lips to tease your barely-conscious form, earning another soft whimper. His cock is swelling again already at those little sounds, and the scent of you.

Forcing himself to pull away, he works your panties down over your hips and off completely with eager fingers, his eyes fixing on your bare cunt. Your positive to response to his touches is all the more visible now, glistening strands of wetness coating your folds. He uses his thumbs to spread you open, circling your clit with two fingers as he stares at your entrance and letting out a throaty groan when he can see your hole clenching around nothing.

The sight of your perfect cunt so greedy for his cock is entrancing, and he repeats the motion. You're not the first person he's done this with and you certainly won't be the last, but oh, you just might be his favorite, so eager for him. He'd known you were special after that first encounter, but your response to him now is better than he could have imagined a few days ago.

He slides two fingers into you, scissoring them gently to ready you for his cock. He can hear the way your faint breathing has sped up, the skin across your chest darkening slightly as you grow flushed from his efforts, and when he removes his fingers they're coated in your slick. He stares at them curiously, tempted again by new desires, and then slides them into his mouth, savoring the taste of you, sweet and quite unlike anything else.

The throbbing in his cock is growing unbearable, and though there's a part of him that wants to draw this out, wants to savor it, there's even larger part that's desperate to feel that tight hole clenching around him. He shifts you again slightly, bringing your hips to rest at the end of the chair, the contours of the leg rest making your back arch nicely, those perfect tits even more on display, and he takes one in hand as he aligns himself near your entrance, pinching at your nipple hard enough to make you whine.

There are condoms in the pocket of his sterile white lab coat; he's normally vigilant with the protective measures, loathe to expose himself to any unnecessary risks, both hygienically and in terms of leaving evidence behind, but he's tempted to forgo that now. The notes from your last yearly doctor's visit stated you're not sexually active, and he thinks it must be true, that an innocent thing like you is too sweet to lie. Of course, because of that you're not on birth control either, but even that doesn't bother him like it should; it excites him even, the thought of his seed taking root and the surprise that would bring.

He runs his bare cock over your damp slit experimentally, groaning at the unadulterated sensation, and that's enough to convince him to abandon his usual precautions. Kai thrusts forward into your wet heat, letting out a strangled moan. Your cunt is so tight, so hot around his length, and god, it's so much better when he can feel it all, the intense wetness of your cunt creaming around him and every tiny ridge of your velvety walls. The way you whimper when he forces himself into you makes him wonder if perhaps he didn't prepare you quite enough - your walls are fluttering around his cock, obviously struggling to accommodate him, but it's not until he's nestled deep inside, the head of his cock kissing your cervix, that he pauses to let you adjust.

You squirm a little - small, feeble movements - and Kai relishes each slight shift of your body, watching your lips twitch. It's obvious you're trying to speak, but in your drugged up state all that spills forth is barely audible nonsense, tiny whines with a pleading undertone. He reaches forward to stroke your hair from your face. "You're so needy," he scolds, "but don't worry, I'll take care of you."

With that, he pulls out until just the head of his cock is still trapped in your cunt, and then drives himself forward roughly. Your limp body bounces back at the force of his thrust, your tits jiggling slightly with each of his movements, a sight he adores. He lets his fingers circle your clit again, can feel the way your cunt immediately clamps down around him in response, as though you're trying to draw him even deeper, and he gladly obliges you, slamming himself as deep as possible every time. You whimper more loudly than you have yet, and he can just make out your eyes trying vainly to flutter open, never quite succeeding.

"You take me so well," he pants, the feel of your slick walls gripping his cock so tightly has his balls tightening again, and he slows a little, trying to prolong the inevitable, not ready to be done with your sweet pussy just yet. He leans forward clumsily latch his mouth around one of those erect nipples, sucking and nibbling, noting the response brings, you throaty noises coming more quickly, the slight twitches of your hips growing more violent.

"So well," he murmurs again. No one's been this responsive before; he's lucky, honestly, if he can ever coax his patients to orgasm, but your cunt is flooded, obviously ready to cum for him, and it's enough that he loses the last of his restraint, rolling his hips furiously, railing against your cervix with every thrust in a way that's sure to leave you aching once you're fully aware again, but he can't bring himself to care. He wants to feel your release, feel you gripping his cock more tightly if such a thing is possible, and wants to fill you up with his seed.

"Are you going to be good and cum for me?" he asks breathily, and after another minute your body answers his question, your cunt clamping down, a quiet, high-pitched whine issuing from your throat as you hole constricts. Another few stuttering thrusts and his own cock is spasming, pleasant throbs radiating through his core as he drives into you one last time and cums, swearing at the almost unbearable tightness of your cunt around him.

For a moment he remains buried there, relishing the last throes of your orgasms and the way you're still occasionally pulsing around him. When he pulls out, he frowns at the distasteful mess his cum makes as it leaks out of your gaping hole, but it's accompanied by a shiver of satisfaction at the evidence of how he's claimed you for himself. Still, he moves on almost immediately to cleaning up, slipping on a fresh pair of nitrile gloves and tucking himself back into his pants before digging out a handful of papery dental bibs and using them to clean away the mess he's left between your thighs. Of course, there's nothing he can do about the evidence he's left deep inside, but even that he still finds titillating, the thought of his cum dripping out of you even after you've left, of your cute, confused face as you try to understand.

You barely stir as he goes about this process, only occasionally shifting slightly or mumbling a little, and by the time he's replaced your clothes you're lying still, the tiniest frown is on your lips. It's almost as though you know your time together is coming to an end, and you don't want to go. Chisaki glances from you to the needle in your arm, and the still half-full bag of Propofol suspended from the IV stand. Now that he thinks about it, he supposes there's no real reason to rush you out of there.

"Hari," he calls out, and he's unsurprised when the door to the exam room opens almost immediately, knows how Kurono likes to listen. The other man looks at him questioningly, gaze flicking between Kai and your sedated form reclining in the chair.

"Yes, Kai?" he asks, raising on pale eyebrow.

Chisaki smiles behind his mask. "Cancel the rest of my appointments for the day."

#chisaki x reader #chisaki kai x reader #chisaki x you #bnha fanfic #chisaki kai #cw: noncon #tw: noncon

766 notes · View notes

donutloverxo · 4 years

Text

Riding

*not my gif*

Please do not steal or repost my works. Reblogs are welcome.

Part two to interruptions but can be read as a stand alone as well. My entry to our weekly challenge.

Summary - Steve's cock is too big. Will you be able to ride it?

Warnings - smut, light bondage, dom steve, sub reader, light anal stuff, mean daddy Steve

Pairing - Steve Rogers x brat!reader

Word count - 1.7k

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

You waddled the whole way back to your room, cursing at Steve the entire time. Here you thought you could go to his office, flutter your eyelashes and be cute so you could get what you wanted from him: attention. You should've known better. Steve was soft most of the time, he could never resist, especially not when you call him your daddy and give him your puppy eyes, make him pity you and love you.

But he had no room for disobedience, he let you know that plenty of times. He had never , how ever not made you cum. He did fulfil your wish, you’d give him that, he fucked you senseless, both your pussy and your mouth, but he didn’t let you cum. That’s just preposterous. That man loved eating you out and prided himself on making you delirious with pleasure. What’s more is that he filled you up with his seed and made you walk all the way over to your apartment.

You laid on your side of the bed waiting for Steve. You felt his spend seep out of you. You could use it to play with yourself. Maybe break out your dildo, it had been a while since you’d used it. Would pissing Steve off some more work in your favor tonight? Probably not.

You sat up as you heard the knob to your bedroom door being twisted. You gulped at the sight of your man. His long jean clad legs made their way to you. You perked up in excitement as you saw him taking his Henley and undershirt off.

It was time to suck up some more. “Can I suck you off again daddy? Please?” You gave him a shy smile hoping he'd show you some mercy.

You moaned at the sight of him removing his jeans, the buckle of his belt clanking against the floor. “No” He grunted as he plopped down next to you “I’m pretty tired I’m going to sleep. Maybe tomorrow princess” He said but you could still make out the small smirk on his face.

“Oh then I should get comfortable too” You shrugged taking off your shorts and shirt, leaving you completely nude. Two can play at that game. You snuggled up to his side making sure to press up your breasts against him. “I can still feel you inside me daddy. It feels so warm and nice” you rubbed your thighs together “I’ll stain the sheets” You shook your head “That’s okay. You’ll help me change them tomorrow right?”

He hummed at that. You threw your leg over his hip smirking at the feel of his erection. “You wanna feel daddy? I think you’ll like it” you took his hand bringing it between your legs. You ran his fingers up and down your folds. Your slick mixed with his cum. You swore you heard him gulp beside you.

He growled climbing on top of you pining your hands above your head and pressing you into the mattress with his body. “Enough of your games” he released you hands digging into the drawers in your bedside table. “What are you doing?” You asked, desperately pushing your core up against his hard cock. Which was unfortunately covered by his black briefs. You stopped as soon as he gave you an angry look.

“You’re really testing my patience today” He warned pulling out the red silk ties he often liked to use on you. Whenever he felt you weren’t being good and didn’t deserve to touch him or just because he felt like it. You presented your wrists to him, to get in his good graces, so he could tie them up. You watched in awe as he wrapped the ties around your wrist tying it up in a complicated knot. He pressed your bound wrists above your head, into your pillow. “These stay here. Understood?”

You half heartedly nodded, disheartened at the fact that you wouldn’t be able to grab his ass or dig your nails into his back. He harshly slapped you on your thigh. “Yes! Yes daddy, I understand” You said quivering your lips, he only leaned back to take his briefs off. Dammit none of your tricks were working today. You whimpered at the sight of his hard cock, slapping against his abs. He pushed your thighs apart as he settled between your thighs.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of his cock. With the two veins running up from his base, his angry pink mushroom head dripping with your favorite creamy goodies. “Daddy, can I ride you?” You asked before you could think otherwise. You cursed yourself as soon as the words left your mouth.

You had never ridden Steve’s glorious cock. You tried once but he was too big for you and because he likes to take care of you. He liked being in control anyway. Any other day, he might’ve considered it. But with how mad he was right now, you seriously doubt it.

He chuckled at you “Fine princess. Why don’t you give it a shot” You frowned at his patronising tone. You’ll show him. Or at least try to. He settled on his back beside you, one hand under his head and another lazily stroking his cock. You got up and straddled his thighs. You put your bound wrists in front of him. Hoping he’d get the message and take them off, for now.

“What?” he sighed, his strokes becoming faster.

“Stop that! It’s my job” You whined pushing his hand away from his cock. You whimpered again as he laughed at your neediness. He put both his hands under his head smirking up at you. “Uh...daddy will you take it off” You requested.

“No” He smacked your ass. You yelped as you fell forward but balanced yourself with your bound wrists on his abdomen. “I’m waiting” He said Impatiently, stretching out under you.

“Mm” You were nervous but you could do it. You moved a bit forward so you could line him up with your pussy. You were already lubed up and turned on so he slid in pretty easy. Your moan turned into a whimpered as you completely sank down on his cock, sitting on his pelvis. You closed your eyes, feeling so filled up, so content and complete. It was as if a part of you was missing and he was finally back inside you, where he belonged. You moved your hips in slow languid circles, rubbing your clit against his pelvis.

“Ah!” You yelped again as he spanked your ass, the smack echoing in the room and leaving a delicious burn, You fell forward, putting your weight on your wrists which sat on his abdomen.

“Do it properly” He commanded. His tone leaving no room for negotiation. “You said you wanted to ride me. Think you can’t take it?” He quirked a brow at you.

You took a deep breathe raising your hips, whimpering as he slid out of you. Slowly and unsurely you sank back down on his cock, his tip hitting your cervix as you threw your head back. You looked at his lust blown eyes, his contorted face, pleading silently to help you out a bit. He pushed his hips up hitting your special spot as you screamed in pleasure which almost etched on pain.

“Come on baby you can do it” he cooed and you cried at his praise.

Soon you were bouncing up and down on him as he kept spuring you on “Such a good doll” He said one of his hands coming up to fondle your breasts, his thumb grazing your stiff nipple before he pinched it before his thumb and his finger. “You look so pretty fucking yourself on me princess” He wondered out loud.

You increased your pace, chasing your end, his cock hitting your spot should render you all worn out and useless, but right now you wanted to please him more than anything and show him how strong and capable you were. “I can –“ you couldn’t finish your thought distracted by his palm squeezing your ass, his thumb pressing into your pluckered hole and his other hand squeezing and playing with your titts.

“I think I like this” he smiled “I get to touch you anyway I like” you gasped as he pulled his thumb out of your bum and spanked you again “You can what sweetheart?” He asked looking into your hooded eyes, his hand which was playing with your titts coming up to caress your cheek.

“Nothing” You shook your head as you tried your best to keep sliding him in and out of you, suddenly feeling so exposed and vulnerable in front of him. He could see all of you, struggling so hard.

He said your name sternly holding onto your face and asking you again “You can what? Answer your daddy”

“I can feel you. So uh –“ you tried your best to contain your moan but it slipped out “so deep inside me” you said feeling yourself almost tipping over the edge. He groaned at your words, firmly holding onto your hips “Can I come daddy? Please?”

“Yeah you can come princess” He planted his legs hard on the mattress and he held onto the back of your neck. He drive up into you, hitting your spot relentlessly until he had you cumming and milking his cock. You couldn’t hold yourself up you collapsed on his chest as he kept fucking into you until he came, spilling his seed inside you, making you feel even more full.

You went into the cloudy state, the one where you always went after being fucked into oblivion, you called it your heaven. You whined as he pulled out of you. You had hoped he’d be inside you longer, so he could keep his cock and your insides warm. He put you back on your back as his fingers worked to undo the silk ties that held your wrists together. “Wh – what are you doing?” You stammered as you felt his hot tongue swipe a strip against your raw and overworked pussy.

“I’m cleaning you up” He sucked onto your clit drawing a groan out of you “So you don’t stain the sheets. Lay back princess” He pressed his palm on your stomach as he cleaned you up and made you cum some more to make up for his meanness.

Tags will be in the reblog! If you want in on the taglist click the link in the bio or leave me an ask!

3K notes · View notes

starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

Text

Smooth as the nine realms

loki laufeyson x reader / masterlist

summary; the midguardian lifestyle is strange, but there is an aspect of it that loki is definitely not accustomed to, and he’s conflicted about whether he likes it or not / warnings; smut, talk about pubic hair, or lack of, oral sex (female receiving)

kicking off your leggings, you abolished them to the other side of the room, straddling loki as he abandoned his book, caring not that the pair of you were in the middle of the common room, nor the fact that he had lost his page. it had been a few months since loki had been forced to join the avengers on their next quest, thor had practically dragged him towards the bifrost.

but now, he didn’t mind earth so much. sometimes it could be quiet, that was when all members of the team were away on missions, and thor allowed him to be by himself. this though, the way you, an average, world protecting midguardian straddled him, after stripping out of your top and bra, in the middle of a public sector of the domain, was something that he sure as valhalla had no mind about.

in fact, he rather enjoyed the way that your hands roughed down the points of his shoulders, and trailed down his biceps, that were underrated, especially in comparison to his brother’s. the two of you had been playing a game since he attacked the planet, it was a chase of cat and mouse.

at first, he had envisioned you to be the mouse, but you no longer seemed meek and small any longer. instead, you were the feline that was cosying herself upon the perch of his royal lap, descending her grounding hips over the throne of his pelvis.

“what is it trickster, cat got your tongue?” you seemed rather confident with the way that his eyes remained glue to your mound, he realised that must have been quite a complimentary action for a mortal man to show to his partner.

to be truthful, it felt as though all speech was parched from his mouth, he had knowingly waited for this instance where you would deliberately rut yourself against him; like heimdall, he had a vision of the future delved in the reverse side of his eyes, though, his reaction was the most unexpected thing that he could had intended to paraphrase.

he trailed his hand over your mound, through the fabric of underwear, watching mercilessly as you bucked into his hand. midguardians were something else, they weren’t as sensual as others he had been with concerning their sexuality, in fact, as it appeared, some were desperate.

you were rutting in his grip, though he applied a stern hold unto them, forcing you to stop your ravenous movements, and pose stilly for the god beneath you. he gently, which was a surprise to you with how tender and kind his eyes had become, laid you down on the couch that stark has paid a pretty penny for, exchanging your positions so that you were the one under his demeanour.

“do something.” you eagerly insisted, lacing your mortal fingers through his midnight locks, tugging gently at his dark roots. a glassy encasement covered his eyes as he stared up at you, it was a mess to place the expression that was carried within them, gods were difficult, that much was clear. though, you weren’t seeking anything particularly intimate with the company of one, this had been inevitable though.

it had been like a kettle brewing, screeching like an applause when the pair of you had finally gotten to the point of no return. this was it, there were no divine interventions or avenging interruptions to discard this moment, instead you and loki were thrown this coin toss, given your desires in the aura of a wish fountain.

“humans.” his voice prowled, making bumps appear on your skin, as he blew a swift succession of cold air across your stomach, it sending a blizzard of coolness up the paving of your chest, making your nipples undeniably hard, their stiff peaks that beaded under his breath were almost painful as they stood obediently to attention. “always so demanding, why can’t your kind beg for a change, i know that would appease my hunger?”

“oh loki, please.” your tone was severely monotone, and caused the mischievous lord to roll his gemstone eyes, rendering their spheric pupils to glare in amusedly at you, though, he tugged your panties down, the sight leaving him breathless. he was enraptured with the sight, perplexed by it as his emerald eyes stared up at you for an explanation. though, you were not sure what he was expecting from you.

his throat dry, as for once, he was not able to comprehend the situation. his silver tongue had gotten lost, obstructed as he grew distracted by the visual that he was receiving. it was a cunt, he knew that much, but there was someone uniquely different about it, he’d assume it was scalped if her were to make verbal predictions. “what is this?”

“my attempts at deflating your ego. i am not going to beg for you to do something to me, i can easily find someone else.” you rested your head back, digging the crown of it further into the end of the couch, as you parted your legs a little further to resend an invitation for him to proceed.

“not that...” loki revealed, paving his icy hands up the roads of your thighs, letting his forefinger brush over your pubic mound, it was like the bifrost, a smooth pathing to a transportation of depth, one that he wished to investigate, though he was still stricken by the eventing shock that pulsed within his golden veins. he had always been a curious child, and he remained to be as keen to know all now, at centuries upon centuries old.

“have you never seen a vagina before?” you huffed, wanting him to do nothing more than devour your cunt, stabbing you with his vigilant tongue so that he could curl crude and priceless sounds out of your mouth. if anyone knew that you were about to participate in intercourse with the destructive, slippery handed body, they would surely judge you.

but they didn’t, and even if that were not the case, you wouldn’t care. your mind was far too preoccupied with the growing inclination to jump the god’s elegantly crafted bones, bury for now you, remained still, allowing him to assert his comfort within the situation. “what’s wrong?” this time, he answered you, looking almost like a dear kitten that was plodding through the bustling streets, seeking out attention from a kind citizen, having hopes to be taken to a home, and fed well.

“why-,” he cleared his throat, he never came across as this nervous to anyone, it was as though he feared what you may think of him if he were to speak his mind. “why don’t you have hair- here?” he stroked the pad of his thumb over the flat and bare crest, finding it to be one of the most peculiar things regarding humans that he had ever witnessed.

“because i shave.” it was a simple answer, whilst all while being not as direct as the god was hoping for. “it’s kinda a thing down here, some people let it grow out, others don’t. it’s whatever picks their fancy, and a lot of people, like me, shave so intimate partners don’t get grossed out. some guys are dicks and hate everything that is natural.”

“well i’d still be reaped with great, reprised regret, if i were to reform the idea of giving you satisfaction if you were to have a natural slate sheathing around your sweet cunt.” he inhaled, making your muscles wither with succumbed arousal. the god could smell your distinct scent of attraction towards him, and he was visually compelled by the aroma that invaded his senses.

loki, without warning, placed his palm over your clean shaven mound, holding you down as his tongue worked against your tender flesh, stroking it as though he bore a hand of intricacy, sketching out every detail of your skin, plucking the outer labia into the hatch of his often deceiving mouth. he had to admit, in his mind of course, he liked the access that he was granted by this strange human lifestyle.

the idea of pubic hair was one of parts of a woman’s body that usually fuelled the immortal man, however if you didn’t want to bear its follicles on your skin, then that was to it choice. he wouldn’t judge you for it, although he happened to judge midguardians on everything. you were different from the others though, despite sometimes bickering, and making stabbing jokes towards one another, he rather enjoyed your presence.

with you nearby, he finally felt seen. he was not only the immortal that had prided himself with almost crushing an entire mortal city, no. you saw through that, understanding that he was definitely not in his own mindset, he had been controlled. it was never in his plans to venture to midguard, even if it was to cause a ruckus. but now with you, he never wanted to leave.

despite your optimal obligations regarding the team, and villains much like himself, he felt accepted. thor too appreciated him, but that was far different, there had always been a means of competition between the brother, with you, that regard was not present. he could be himself, and appreciate your side silhouette, and demand the agents that passed by with wandering eyes with threats if they did not continue walking.

now that he thought about that, as he engorged on the taste of your cunt, sliding a prying finger through the door of your entrance, fumbling your clit with his bewitched thumb, he realised something. a great surprise to himself. he indeed cared about you, but far more than he had ever anticipated to. his fingers slowed as he became mesmerised with every small noise that projected from your mouth, wanting to drag this instance out for as long as possible.

not only did his self realisation show him that he found some calm in your lasting presence, but he had feelings. usually he blocked off such things, but the heavenly expression that illustrated itself upon your face had him inwardly swooning. he felt you comb your fingers through his locks, and he hummed. he wanted this moment to last forever, in it, he was not a god, nor an infamous trickster.

he was just a man swarming with irregular emotions towards a woman, a being of optimistic resort; if things were as simple, or if he understood as well, he’d ask to take you for dinner. but he didn’t know where to start with that, not only did he have a lack of wisdom when it came to human restaurants, but he had no clue as to how you would respond. he didn’t even think that you saw him as a suitor, he was simply a deliverer of teasing and now pleasure.

“fuck loki.” the mortal swear sounded like a spell, making his body overbear itself with a proud sensation as he pushed you over the edge, removing his fingers only for you to bring them to your own mouth and clean them off. “holy shit, that was so good. maybe i should have started with gods years ago.”

inherently the mischief source growled, his mind instantly going over to the idea of you choosing his brother; everyone did, they had a strong preference. from his family to his old friends, they all liked thor more, and that was how his resentment towards his brother had originally stemmed. he felt like an outcast, and from that reminded alone, conjoined with your interest towards his brother, he felt his eyes grow glassy.

“go to him. i’m sure thor would appreciate your partnership.” yes, he was acting like a sulking toddler, and it had your brow bone raising as you took in his words. it was his clap back response, and you grasped him, stopping him from leaning the room. you felt slightly vulnerable, being in the nude after such a small lash, but you knew something was bothering loki, and it was clear to what that was.

“i do not want your brother loki, nor any other god.” your voice bit back a strain to its tone, as you stared at the man, standing in your birthday suit before him. your hands splayed on his chest, feeling his heart through his attire viscosity beating. “there is no need to be jealous, it feels like we’ve playing this game for so long, and i intend for it to be over. i will be the first to admit it, i want you, all of you. from the dark corners to the hopeful light in your eyes.”

loki was astounded, nobody had ever been so straight forward with him. despite being the god of mischief, the half of the time it was him whom was the victim of lies. “you don’t mean that.” his hands lightly traced every dip in your hips as he searched your expression for certainty. “nobody wants me, i am the monster that had tales spread to fear the children of my people of a night. there is nowhere i belong, nor anybody whom i belong with.”

“that may be your mindset, or the one that you are speaking, but you are lying to yourself. i do want you loki odinson, please accept that.” he gulped, nobody had ever had he guts to tell him how it was, and here you were, simply speaking your mind before him. it was an admirable feature, something that he deemed to be a favourable quality. “now i think i’m gonna get dressed and head to my room, i am feeling a bit cold. come find me when you feel like admitting the truth to yourself, i’ll be waiting.”

as you went to turn, loki grasped your elbow, hushing your questions with his mouth, as he clutched your cheeks, passionately endorsing you in a meaningful kiss. he walked you backwards, until the pair of you once again fell onto the furniture. “you don’t have to wait y/n, because i do not want to.” he ushered pecks down your neck, as you grew warm from the disappearance of his usual cockiness, it being replaced with true confidence, that served as a show for no one, and instead was his own admittance to all.

327 notes · View notes

lepusrufus · 3 years

Text

To bargain for immortality pt.6 END

There were little things, really, that ended up putting her doubts and theories to rest. Nicole hadn't been an active person since she was five, so the occasional mild fatigue didn't stand out from her normal routine. The headaches that came and went or the tiredness that accompanied nights when she didn't get enough sleep were simply chucked to her body adjusting to its newfound immortality. Sometimes it takes longer for the Cadou to fully settle in, Esteria had reassured her, talking from personal experience as her own mutation took close to two years to be done changing her body.

All the doubt was wiped from her mind when she woke up one evening, the day after another particularly unpleasant experiment run with Miranda, with a splitting headache. It soon turned downright nauseating and hasty steps took her to the bathroom connected to Cassandra's bedchambers, where she all but doubled over, as much as her position leaning on the sink allowed.

Her initial plan was to simply splash some cold water on her face, but that soon went out the window when her throat and mouth were invaded by the familiar sensation of thick blood coming and pouring out. The white porcelain got stained in dark crimson as her heart seemed to beat painfully against her ribcage, making a small whimper escape blood stained lips. This experience in and of itself was not unfamiliar by now, but her own body apparently taking offence to simply existing was a new and unwelcomed development. An attempt to take a deep breath was made, but that only seemed counterproductive as it sent a stinging ache through her chest, so she settled for holding her breath until the pain subsided. A few shuddering intakes of the oxygen her body seemed to scream for later, the room and her reflection finally seemed to stop spinning.

Her eyes landed on the crimson mess in the sink and she let out an exhausted sigh, but before it could be cleaned, the bathroom door that she had left ajar creaked open.

"Heyy- ooo that looks bad," Daniela's voice came from her side, tone as over the top as always with the grimace that pulled at her features.

"Oh this? What do you mean, just a normal Thursday evening," Nicole replied, voice dripping with sarcasm and hands still shaking on the faucet when she turned on the water.

The other redhead didn't seem phased, presumably being Bela and Cassandra's sister does render one immune to sarcasm. Instead she shrugged and occupied herself with her sister's collection of perfumes that were placed on an adjacent counter.

Nicole gave her a look through the mirror while trying to splash some water on the remaining blood stains. "Did you… need something?"

"Dumbass number one and two are practicing some sword fighting in the garden. Thought you'd like to see," came the reply complete with an eyebrow wiggle that gained her a playful shove.

"Give me a minute to change," Nicole said, finally pushing herself off the sink when the nausea subsided back to a mild headache and her face was free of crimson trails.

As promised, when they entered the back garden that stood between the castle and its extensive vineyard, the faint clinking of metal against metal could be heard. It raised in volume as they made their way to an area where a few logs had been set on the grass, that made perfect sitting spots around what the sisters reclaimed as their small personal arena dedicated to occasional training. The vine covered statues and bushes with colorful leaves made for a pleasant spot to simply spend time in too, her wife currently dressed in light training gear and sword fighting coming as a big bonus to the beautiful surroundings.

The moment Cassandra's eyes landed briefly on her, a characteristic smirk pulled at her lips, their ashy tone left visible from the choice to skip lipstick for the time being. Their sparring match got cut short by a sudden low swipe at Bela's feet, that knocked her off balance and sent her on the trampled grass underfoot.

"Show off," she grumbled at her younger sister when offered a hand to get up. She took it, but continued to glare daggers at Cassandra as she dusted off her pants.

Not that the middle sister noticed, having turned and came up to her wife for a tender good morning kiss. She let the hand not occupied by the sword's handle rest on Nicole's cheek, eyebrows pulling into a frown upon noticing the tired look in emerald eyes.

"Are you feeling well? You look pale."

"Yeah yeah-"

"Oh just some mild gut-puking in the form of blood all over your sink," Daniela interjected, giving a fake innocent shrug when Nicole turned to glare at her. "You might wanna get a maid to clean it up, she did a shit job of it."

"I did not!" Nicole protested.

"You forgot the underside," Daniela hummed. "That was some mad splatter there."

She was rendered mute as the youngest sister moved to the small fence portion that was turned into an impromptu weapon holder to choose something and take Cassandra's place in another sparring match. Her glare was interrupted when she noticed her wife's worried expression.

"It's fine, just a mild headache now," Nicole sighed as she brought a hand up to interlace their fingers and pull Cassandra with her so they could both sit where Laura and Anita were. "Any chance I'm getting another performance? Since I missed the last one," she then said, a sly smile making its way on her lips.

That got Cassandra to grin, fangs glimmering in the early evening's soft light in a way that anyone else would find downright menacing. "Of course," she answered, eyes momentarily moving to her sisters.

It looked like Bela was winning, despite Daniela choosing her preferred twin swords that she wielded with an odd mix of grace and chaos. A slip past her guard and a hit with the ornate hilt of Bela's sword was what it took to put an end to their match, the youngest sister stumbling forward and breaking into a swarm before she had the chance to fully lose balance and fall face first into the dirt. She reappeared in front of the blonde, tongue stuck out and nose scrunched in an annoyed grimace, complete with a middle finger. If the Dimitrescu sisters had one thing in common, it was that all three of them were the world’s biggest sore losers.

"My turn to kick her ass," Cassandra perked up, picking up her well polished gladius.

Daniela, still miffed about her previous loss, didn't offer her the grace of getting into a proper stance. A flash of flies later, the clanking of metal ringed around them as Cassandra pushed her back.

"We said no swarm!" Bela called out from where she had found a seat on the grass, right in front of Laura.

The youngest rolled her eyes but complied, the buzzing completely dying down in favor of quick swipes and blocks. What Cassandra might've lacked in speed, she more than made up for in an impeccable defense, being near impossible to get near her body even with the apparent advantage of having an extra sword. Their fighting came to a standstill soon enough, with Daniela unable to get near while also being too quick to let any major hit land.

"My ladies."

Alexandria's voice called out from the entrance of their little makeshift arena, distracting Daniela enough for her sister to quickly swipe at her feet not unlike she had previously done to Bela.

The Steward flinched for a second when a long frustrated growl was heard from the youngest, but cleared her throat and did her best to keep up her characteristic poker face as she addressed Nicole. "Mother Miranda's assistant is here for you."

Her face fell, annoyance and dread both bubbling in her chest at having her pleasant day cut short not even two hours after waking up. She got up and exchanged goodbyes with the rest of her family while grabbing Cassandra's free hand in a silent demand to see her to the door.

On their way out, she decided that old jeans and a slightly oversized shirt that had survived her high school days was an attire appropriate enough to being tortured. It should've been concerning how at peace she had become with that idea, at least to any person with a sound mind. She never declared her sanity intact though.

"I'll see you later," she told Cassandra once they were at the heavy doors of the castle's main entrance, a thumb slowly tracing her jaw.

Emma was impatiently waiting for her just outside and blame the slight inherent meanness she had learned to let free since becoming a Dimitrescu, but Nicole took immense pleasure from the woman's uncomfortable grimace when she pulled Cassandra down in a deep kiss that went on for ten seconds too long. Small victories in the face of doom.

---

Nicole choked out a sob that walked the fine line between crying and screaming when the knife that looked way too big for the woman's hands came down at her elbow's joint with a gut wrenching crack.

It felt like Miranda had an unbeatable talent to never disappoint when someone thought she had reached the peak of inhumane with her experiments. The poisons were dreadful as was everything before that. The test on how well she can heal bullet wounds from the previous day had been downright cruel, only stopping after the results that showed how only a bullet through the head can incapacitate her for a while. Today's experiment on regenerating limbs was starting to eat away at Nicole's remaining sanity. It obviously started small, with fingers, but Miranda was always so keen on pushing limits.

She turned on her side with the remaining hand pressed to tear filled eyes and nails digging into skin as she desperately tried to find some sort of distraction from the pain and tingling that felt like static in her veins. Her temples were already throbbing with a headache and her vision was spinning due to the nausea. Miranda and Emma were having some sort of conversation to the side, but it felt distant through the deafening ringing in her ears as she put all her effort into not throwing up due to the sheer shock her body was going through.

The amount of time she laid there sobbing completely evaded her, not bothering to keep a mental track nor raising her head towards the clock mounted on the wall. She just wanted the healing to move and get it over with.

By the time she was mentally prepared to stomach the sight, her hand was already stitching together muscles covering the newly reformed bone, together with the beginnings of skin close to the incision. She tried moving her finger and flinched into a whole body cringe at how utterly wrong it felt.

The door creaking open took her attention away from the unsightly muscles twitching as they got placed together and into their places.

"Lord Heisenberg is here," announced a man, donning a white lab uniform not unlike Emma's.

"Just on time," Miranda perked up, a dangerously gleeful look in her eyes.

She got up, leaving the assistant with the job of timing Nicole's healing as she went to greet Karl. It went on for almost another torturous minute before the tell tale click of the timer and Emma noting it down marked that her arm was once again whole.

"How- how long was that?" Nicole asked, tentatively moving her hand. Good as new, with the exact same mobility function and sensitivity. The only thing missing was the beige nail polish applied just the night prior.

"Five minutes and twenty," the woman replied, not looking up from her paper.

Another few minutes of silence passed, that Nicole spent flexing her fingers. A bit of hot rage coursed through her veins when she noticed her ring finger, the matching band she and Cassandra had having been left on the desk upon entering the lab. At least Miranda had the decency of not slicing her hand off with the ring still on it, but she still wanted it back.

It wasn't long before Miranda came back, motioning for her to follow. "Come," she said, waiting for Nicole to push herself off the hospital bed and onto her feet.

A small burst of dizziness later, she was standing and shaky legs were taking her towards the woman. "Can I get my ring back now?" She did her best to keep the edge out of her tone, too tired to face her wrath.

Miranda simply thought for a moment before waving a dismissive hand at her. "Fine, it won't be in the way anymore."

Nicole wasn't sure if that was good or downright horrifying.

Most of the rooms in the underground maze of corridors were unknown to her. The structure twisting and turning in dizzying patterns that were enough to disorient anyone not familiar with the layout. Not to mention the occasional tunnel that stretched for entirely too long that led to one place or the other from the town above.

Nicole found herself following Miranda through one such unknown area, the corridors new to her but the look not dissimilar to every other part of the underground structure. If it weren't for the numbered plaques on the door, she wouldn't even be able to tell this was a different area than the ones she's seen before.

Miranda pushed open a door and led her inside. It was definitely more spacious than the labs and the space was mostly cleared out save from a few tables lining the walls and some cabinets. The only thing at the center was Lord Heisenberg and a long metal table, leather straps fastened to its sides and a circular saw blade attached to a machine above.

Nicole took a couple stumbling steps back, hips hitting the corner of a table and rattling the papers placed on it. It seemed to peeve Miranda, who grabbed her wrist impatiently.

"Come now, we don't have all day," she said while slowly dragging her towards the table.

With every shaky step, her knees felt like jello under her and her ears started to ring anew with the panic and dread settling like ice in her veins. Her legs finally gave way under her and she fell to her knees with a pathetic sob.

"No please. Please I can't," she said, one hand meekly grabbing at the goddess' lab coat.

Miranda bent down on one knee, brows furrowed in the feign concern that only she could have perfected to such an art. "We have to," she started, voice so soft one could easily believe it belonged to someone else. "We must know the limits of your regenerative abilities. You said it yourself that you want to know them."

She had but not like this. Not like this.

"Then use anesthesia. Please just don't-" she choked out a sob before the end of her phrase. Not that it was going anywhere, it was just a pathetic attempt at bargaining for less suffering.

Surprisingly enough, there were few instances since coming to the Village when she felt truly and utterly terrified. Anxious and afraid? Sure. But not even Lady Dimitrescu hiring her, or Cassandra taking an interest in freaking her out or even getting shot made her feel the dread she was feeling then. She would've rather spent eternity on the cold hard stone under her knees than budge an inch.

Miranda pursed her lips and lifted her chin with one hand, expression like a mother hearing her child make an outrageously unattainable request. "You know that will interfere with the results."

"Then local anesthesia," Nicole suggested, holding onto some kind of feeble hope by a thread.

The goddess seemed to actually consider it for a moment before shaking her head. A hundred meek protests and cries fell past Nicole's lips and on deaf ears as she was pulled up by the wrist and back on track towards the metal table. Miranda was incredibly strong despite her rather short stature, so any attempt at pulling back was completely useless.

Once at the room's center, she pushed Nicole against the table, frowning when she refused to get on. With a sigh, she grabbed her chin once again, putting slightly more force in the gesture. Both a warning and witness to her growing impatience.

"If you keep still it's going to be much less painful," she promised, though the validity behind her words were doubtful.

Though there was something in Miranda's tone that almost demanded to be believed without question. It may have been the inherent authority that came with being almost divine, a goddess in all ways that truly mattered. Or something else entirely, common to every piece of the Megamycete's web, down to the finest and farthest roots.

With a barely visible nod, Nicole pushed herself onto the cold surface of the table. It was far taller than she was so Karl had to spend a few good minutes readjusting the leather straps on the sides until they were in the right positions to wrap tightly around her limbs.

"Uh… sorry kiddo," he said in a barely audible whisper as he fastened a strap around her forehead. "Here," he pressed a folded cloth to her lips, that she bit down on to at least try to not crack any teeth.

He seemed almost as much of an unwilling participant as she was, lips pulled into a tight line under the scruffy mustache. The only one seeming rather gleeful there was Miranda.

The leather was digging painfully into her skin, the belts having been tightened slightly too much to prevent movement. Not to mention the uncomfortable position, with her hands tied above her head and starting to feel numb. Her head also seemed beyond foggy, the shallow breaths she was taking doing a poor job of providing her body with oxygen, to which it protested with a heart painfully beating against her ribcage, almost as if the small parasite that nestled around it was taking offence itself.

Another sob shook her body, deafened out by the metal sound of the circular blade when it was turned on. Thankfully it was clean. At least Nicole hoped as much. And sharp. If she was going through this she prayed that she would at least be granted the mercy of a clean cut as opposed to shredding of skin and muscle with everything underneath.

She shut her eyes when Miranda raised her shirt enough to expose her abdomen and, as the saw forcefully came down, screams were muffled both by the cloth in her mouth and the deafening roar of the saw.

---

The feeble knock on heavy ornate doors was answered by the tall woman positioned on guard duty that night. Nicole did not remember her name and at the moment it was the least of her worries.

She took a handful of shaky steps inside before clearing her throat in an attempt to not let her voice waver. "Cassandra?"

"Out hunting with her sisters and the other ladies," the woman answered promptly.

Nicole simply nodded once and made her way into the castle as the heavy thud of the shutting doors echoed around her. Her movements seemed on autopilot, eyes only focused enough to watch her step as she made her way through the familiar path up to her wife's bedroom. She barely registered passing through the first set of corridors, the paintings and priceless decor she had grown accustomed to every day becoming a background blur.

She felt downright dreadful.

Her ears were still ringing slightly and exhaustion made her limbs feel heavy and aching with every step. The headache from earlier was also back in full swing and throbbing painfully at her temples.

A quick look at a golden clock mounted on the wall in the main hall reminded her that it was near dawn so the rest of her family must be on their way home.

She flinched, a small jump that threatened to throw her off balance, at the heavy footsteps that came behind her. Throwing a look over her shoulder she saw none other than Lady Dimitrescu, her mother in law, making her way under the low arch of one of the doors leading into the spacious room. Thin black eyebrows were pulled into a frown at the sight of the much smaller woman, hunched over and all but shivering, with dark circles under her eyes having taken an almost purplish hue and dried tear streaks on pallid cheeks.

"Oh hi," Nicole greeted with a wry smile. "I thought you were out hunting."

Alcina waved a hand dismissively, eyes still focused on every minuscule shake of her shoulders. "Paperwork had to be taken care of."

At the explanation, Nicole let out an oh and shuffled her weight from one foot to the other, unsure of how to politely book it up the stairs and under the mountain of blankets on Cassandra's bed. There was no escape, it seemed, as a large hand came to gingerly rest on her shoulder, leading her further in and towards one of the plush couches lined in front of the barely lit fireplace. "Come sit," she offered, face softening in a gentle motherly smile.

Nicole just nodded absent mindedly, sitting barely on the edge of the white cushions decorated with a beautiful intricate floral pattern. She passed clammy hands on her jeans, now covered in fine powdery ash from the crystallized remains of the discarded half of her body after she retrieved them following the night's experiments. A disgusted grimace pulled at her lips, deciding then and there that the pants had to be burned as soon as possible.

"How did the tests go?" Alcina asked, taking her attention away from the ruined piece of garment and being met with distant eyes.

"Good," Nicole whispered, but before the word could even be fully out of her mouth a sob shook her entire body, coming out accompanied by choked out gasps as she all but doubled over in an attempt to make herself smaller than she already was.

The Lady's eyes widened at the sudden outpouring of emotion, so uncharacteristic for the woman in the few years she had been part of her family. "Oh child," she whispered, hands resting protectively on small shaking shoulders.

"Did-" Nicole started but interrupted herself with another shuddering gasp. "Did she- do the same thing to-... to you?"

Alcina grimaced, expression unseen by the smaller woman currently curled in on herself in her arms. It had been so long since her infection, the pain caused by her body acclimating to the Cadou a distant memory. Something that would forever remain seared in her mind however was the cruel ice in their goddess' eyes as she ran test after dreadful test, pushing the limits of her body to see how much she can actually heal. It had taken months to finally be content with the results, after her body's defensive response had been mutating and turning into the giant hungry beast she kept carefully at bay from that moment on. Instead of answering, Alcina decided that the better option was to rub her back slowly, not unlike she had done to her own daughters countless times before, to bring some comfort.

"You will get through this," she promised, unwavering conviction in her tone.

---

Date: 20th May 2012

Subject: Nicole [REDACTED] Dimitrescu

Mutation experiments - 5 (Regeneration- 4)

Testing the limits of regenerative abilities - regrowing body parts

Subject can regrow limbs (arm, served from elbow - 5'20'') and regenerate after being cut in half. If the body is cut with a 50/50 ratio, the upper half will regrow the lower half, prioritizing brain activity and the Cadou's placement. If the proportions are different in favour of the lower half, the upper one may still be the one taking priority; results vary. Up to 80% of body mass can be regenerated. If more than that is destroyed (eg. dissolved using acid) subject will presumably crystallize and enter a dormant state like others infected with a Cadou.

The discarded body parts crystallize and disintegrate into a stony/ashy mass.

---

Miranda's enthusiasm seemed to slowly dwindle after a few more experiment runs, the same effects John Abbott's mutations that caused his untimely death coming to knock at Nicole's door every so often.

"You see," the goddess had said the last time she had called Nicole down in the underground labs. "John was missing the healing abilities, which led to his infection slowly corroding away at his body until his death. You can heal, so you won't die, but the negative effects are still present. So try not to get hurt too much too often," she finished, not even sparing her a glance.

And that was the last Nicole had seen of Miranda, at least as far as one on one experiments went. The woman would still pay the castle a visit every so often, sitting down with Alcina for a glass of wine and having the rest of the family joining in on occasion, when their discussions didn't stray too far into matters of their cult.

She was right too. There were days when a migraine would rudely wake her up in the morning, or when her chest seemed to ache to the point where she was sure the parasite that made its home around her beating heart was trying to escape. The Cadou truly was a wretched little thing, constantly at odds with her body's defenses and trying to slowly but surely cause damage to the point of death. But if there's one thing that very same parasite had bestowed upon her was just… being really good at not dying. The healing abilities were in a continuous cycle of repairing any and all internal damage the infection may have caused on a not so good day. Those times had her doubling over the nearest sink, or suitable container if unlucky, a waterfall of blood carrying all the damaged tissue that had been replaced flowing from her lips in crimson rivulets.

A cruel fate, one may think. Not her though, for the knowledge of how her family had helped her through the change was at the forefront of her mind each time she had to sit down due to a burst of dizziness. Cassandra rubbing gentle circles on her back while she was coughing up the clogged blood in her throat grounded her beyond belief. Then, when everything was said and done, there was always something to get back to. A short vacation originally meant for business but that Alcina would always prolong for just a couple days so they could all spend some quality time away from the Village and the cult and Miranda's scrutinizing ever watchful eyes. Or the season's first hunting trip, the genuine glee on her wife's face never growing old to her. Even life's more mundane events, like the weekly movie night that had half the family groaning at Esteria's choice of vampire media. Rinse and repeat, forever under the castle's imposing towers and inside ornate inviting rooms, always warm and welcoming, always feeling like home to her.

If that was the price she had to pay for eternity, then so be it.

---

Subject Name: Nicole Dimitrescu

Cadou Affinity: Favorable

Brain Functions: Normal

Subject can regenerate at an incredibly fast rate, although healing slows down with loss of consciousness. Shows a similar mutation to John Abbott; able to detect illnesses by specific smells. The latter mutation causes the Cadou to have adverse reactions, causing internal damage that is however kept at bay with the regenerative abilities.

An unfit vessel for Eva.

#unhinged maiden™ my beloved #cassandra dimitrescu x maiden #mother miranda #karl heisenberg #to bargain for immortality #fanfic #lady dimitrescu #tw torture #like big fat tw for this one

85 notes · View notes

dreamii-yume · 3 years

Note

Did you say birthday crumbs? 😌😌😌

I saw the cradle in his bday card and immediately thought. Lilia likes babies. He wants babies. MC can give him a baby... Whether she likes to or not.

It's his birthday! Why don't she fulfill his wish, please?

Yume may be very late for Daddy Lilia’s birthday, but there are never truly a time where we can be “late” for hornii. (΄◉◞౪◟◉｀)

“You would be a great mother. I’m sure of it.”

Lilia had randomly told you that one day as what you initially thought as a strange way of breaking the silence. You didn’t think too much of it, there were more things that the old fae had said that left you speechless after all. You laughed at it and took it as a compliment instead, flattered even. He was truly a man full of surprises, you naively thought that day. You didn’t even notice that glint of mischief in his eyes, a sign that may or may not just be some childish intuition, but he was dead serious.

...You know, thinking back, you should’ve noticed all the signs while it was still there, harmless and tamed. You did not understand what he really meant by it, but you accepted it anyway, since you genuinely thought that he meant no ill will. It was most women’s dream to become a good mother after all and you just happen to be very good at taking care of kids. So, for this talent to be recognized by someone older and more experience than you in raising kids, it made you happy. But ever since that day, Lilia started acting strange towards you.

...For some reason, every time you meet up with him, coincidentally or not, it was always your stomach that he’s most especially delicate to. During one of his surprise acts of affection, his hands would always snake down across your tummy, caressing them through your shirt. Whenever he’ll take the opportunity of resting his head down on your lap, you’ll find him eyeing your stomach with a loving look in his eyes, almost as if he’s waiting for something. Even times when you’ll suddenly find him in your bed the next morning, leaning his ear on it like there’s even something to hear on the other side. When you get scratches and wounds just near your waist line, Lilia would freak out and patched you up as fast as possible, whispering something about how upset he is for something to damage your skin on this specific spot.

You weren’t one to judge people, Lilia was a man full of surprises after all. It wouldn’t be too strange if he has some kind of stomach fetish of some sort. Even though you knew that this man was a lot older than what you already thought, Lilia knows best on how to use his appearance as weapon and mean to get out of the situation. He’s so childish and mischievous, kinda like how a typical young boy would act, and to you, who’s weak against the affections of a child, it was a blade that cuts you deep. It bothered you for a bit, but eventually got used to it, letting him do what he wants.

“Eh? Lilia-senpai, you have kids?”

“You can call them that, but they’re not my own.”

Eventually, you started catching on his true intentions bit by bit and they were surprisingly very wholesome...At first, at the very least. He was very careful of not naming the identity of the children that he took care of, but being able to hear him fondly remembering his moments with them, you came to understand him a bit more. You didn’t want to assume to much to a life that you’re not very familiar with, but a simple thought came into your mind.

Perhaps, Lilia was simply...lonely.

He is fond of children, and had claimed to raise some until they could walk in their own out in the outside world. His bond and love for them was undoubtedly absolute, but as he said, his relation to them was not something that he could call his own. Perhaps Lilia was not interested in your abdominal region alone, but instead of the womb that can bare those children. Thinking that, you almost considered all his actions justified, not that you didn’t before, but at least you have some sort of context behind it. Lilia said that you were going to be a great mother someday, but with these thoughts in your head, you just can’t help but think that it’s a compliment that best suit him instead.

...That’s what you kept thinking as he one day grabbed you by the hand, leading you in the bounds of his room. His hands were so smooth, moving across your arms, legs, and back, giving you goosebumbs along the way. Of course, his last destination was on your stomach, going underneath your shirt and feeling warmness of it all. He nibbles on your neck like a little mouse, but with one wrong move, his fangs could absolutely pierce your flesh open. Charmed by his hypnotic touch, you reaction didn’t quite line in with your rationality as Lilia pulled you by your chin and slammed his lips against yours.

With his tongue playing inside your cavern, his saliva felt as if it was laced with natural aphrodisiac, rendering you immobile. You were surprised, but got you distracted enough to not be able to notice your clothes slowly being stripped away. Chuckling, Lilia couldn’t help but find yo oh-so adorable, having to completely wrap you around his fingers

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

“P...Please...I-I’m so full...” You sobbed as you covered your face in embarrassement, still in disbelief that something like this is happening to you. “Pull out...! Please, I c-can’t take any more...!”

Flinching as his fingers traced over the small bulge in your stomach, filled with the seed that can penetrate the depths of your flower so easily. “Not yet, Love. Just a little more.” He whispered, eyes half-lidded and seemingly drunk with both lust and pleasure. “We’ll have to make sure that you get the most of it in.”

A sharp, burning pain spread from your lower region as he pushed himself in your cunt deeper. “Aagh!” You squeaked as you instinctively grabbed the sheets and grit your teeth. Despite his best attempt of stuffing your hole with his own cock, his overwhelming cum had still managed to seep out through the gaps and stains the bed. Lilia hummed in disappointment, before scooping some in his fingers.

“Aw...What a waste.” He sighed, coming into terms that your human body just doesn’t have enough capacity to hold truck-load of a fae’s love juice. You also hoped that he had come to understand that yourbody is practically giving out on you. You’re exhausted, after being relentlessly fucked for hours, you just wanted to let your heavy eyelids fall but every time you do so, Lilia would use pain to wake you up. However, he took one look at the white substance sticking to his fingers and he proceeded to glance back at you, the look in his eye was not something you appreciated. Unfortunately, you were not given enough time to ponder over what went through his head as he suddenly shoved those cum-filled fingers inside your mouth.

He pinches you tongue, smearing the flavor of his love juice on your taste buds with a sadistic smirk on his face. “...Guess we’ll just have to improvise, yeah~?” He playfully said, as your mouth quavered whilst forcefully tasting his salty juices. You whined at his actions, but Lilia sighed heavenly from just your horrified and tearful expression combined. “Aah...What a good girl...I knew you were the perfect fit for me~!”

To your dismay, he began to move again, motivated to ruin your body both inside and outside once more than it already is. He pulled his fingers out of you, before immediately cupping your cheeks obsessively. “Those eyes...Oh, how I love those eyes.” Lilia said and in an instinct, you closed them as a force of habit when he began to move his hips, dragging your battered walls along. “...The eventual eyes of a dedicated mother, a loving wife.”

“Even after all this time, your eyes haven’t died yet. How wonderful...” You cried as you felt the disruption straight into your womb, toes clenching as you weakly gripped onto him. “This is exactly why...”

“...You would be a great mother, Darling...” Lilia told you once again, reminiscent of his former words but now carries a heavy burden on you. His eyes glows red, learning closer to your lips to give you yet another painful, yet passionate kiss. “...And just the perfect, loving wife that I dreamt of.”

Since I was late, this doesn’t seem to have anything related to Lilia’s birthday at all (*´Д｀*) pls im sorry my head is long been drained but regardless, Yume’s still going to put this in the Birthday Crumbs watch me break my own rules lol

Yume’s Resolution is to get a driver’s license and be better at it, and write sinfics faster. (*´꒳`*) What’s yours, Darlings?

#twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere #lilia vanrouge #yandere lilia vanrouge #Birthday Crumbs

440 notes · View notes

mae-gi-writes · 3 years

Text

Twilight | Changmin (The Boyz)

Twilight drives and tender eyes.

Genre: fluff, little angst if you squint, soft Changmin hours, Changmin being the softest bf ever.

----

"Stop! Changmin seriously!"

The said brunette's grin widens and in response, he follows up with more splashes, his giggles mixing in with the scent of salt as the ocean roars behind you in the distance.

You duck, hands covering your face and hair -- to no avail -- before splashing him back in retaliation. It's cold and soaks you right to the bone, but nothing can compare to the stupid grin that's been permanently stretched across your face from the moment Changmin had greeted you with a coffee and a promise to soak up the sunlight at twilight.

He had a tendency to do that. Just appear out of the thin air whenever you were having a hard time and drive you along the coast of the country till the weight in your heart had lifted.

"Ha! Take that!" Changmin childishly sticks out his tongue when you got drenched by an ongoing wave, only to yelp himself when it swept him off his feet.

You burst out laughing, "say what?!" You taunt, giggles intensifying when he sticks out the finger in mock annoyance.

The sun is slowly setting in the horizon as you clamber back into his used-up, battered red Honda and get hit in the face with Changmin's towel, "ow!"

"That's for laughing at me earlier," comes his muffled alto. Then, before you can retort, his hands come on either side of your head. He rubs att your hair, drying it off, and your heart warms up at his gesture.

When your eyes manage to peek out of the towel, you offered him a soft smile, "thanks."

Changmin stills for a moment as he gazed back in your eyes. Features softening, he leans down to drop a shy kiss at your temple, "pleasure," his words tickle your forehead and you swear that heat has blossomed through your limbs at his sweet countenance.

"Want me to drive?" You offer while watching him pull out of the parking lot, eyes lingering over the curve of his arm, the way the golden hues of the sun bathes his side profile.

Changmin snorts, "and get myself killed? No thank you."

"Says the one who failed his driving test three times."

"That was the policeman's fault."

"It's okay Changmin. Not everyone can be as talented as I am in driving," you taunt as you reached for some chips you'd packed in your bag, pop it open to offer him some, "also, was it necessary to drive all the way out here just for the beach? There's a beach back home too, you know?"

"So that we could bump into people we know? No way," he shakes his head, "not my style. Anyway, it's prettier here."

The more you gaze fondly at the young man sitting beside you, the more your heart beats for him, dances to the rhythm of his laughter and reacts to the curve of his smile.

You are lucky. Oh so lucky indeed.

A comfortable silence eases your nerves and as you settle comfortably in the passenger seat, you let out the softest of sighs while taking in the array of trees spilling on both sides of the quiet road. It's almost as if only you and Changmin are present in this very moment. Reddish gold sunlight streams through the leaves, the darkening purple sky softening life and all its forms. Somewhere in the distance, you catch the sound of a bird singing.

"Oh let's stop here for a minute," Changmin says. You follow the direction of his gaze towards the edge of the forest lining that gives view of the ocean lying beyond. Pulling onto the side of the road, he quickly unbuckles his seatbelt and ushers you out so that you stand only a few feet away from the edg of the cliff.

"Now that-- that's what I brought you here for," his murmur gets washed out by the crashing of waves below. A deathly drop if one was to jump. You are so mesmerized by the swirls of foam that you don't miss your boyfriend's absence -- until coldness suddenly presses to your cheek.

Jumping slightly, you turn towards him to see that he's holding out a beer that he has previously cracked open, and gratefully take it from him with a soft thanks. He takes his place next to you amidst the tall grass and it's almost like instinct that your body curves into his ever so slightly, your shoulder meeting his own while admiring the gradation of blues and mixed purples and soft dimming oranges that are washing out by the minute.

"Is it safe here?" You can't help but wonder aloud.

"I'd like to say yes," his face looks so determined that you giggle slightly, "you're so dumb."

"Is that what you say to the best boyfriend in the world?" He gasps mockingly, hand over his chest to stare at you. Trust Changmin for always being a drama queen, "I am hurt, Y/N!"

"Oh shut up."

"Only if you kiss me."

"Dream on," your cheeks flush despite the tone of finality in your voice, though you don't protest upon feeling his arm wrap around your shoulder to pull you close. He giggles in response as his nose bumps against the side of your head and you flush with even more heat.

To distract yourself, you take a sip of your beer, "I gotta say, you impressed me today."

"I did, didn't I?" He sounds smug, "so admit it, I'm the best boyfriend you could ever ask for--"

"You--" your finger reaches up to shove his forehead back, "need to stop being so cocky. It doesn't look good on you."

"Are you saying I'm not the best boyfriend you could ask for? After everything I did for you?" That's when he pulls you even closer before pressing the softest of pecks along your brow line. Heat explodes through your cheeks, and you know it's not from the cold that suddenly sweeps in without warning.

"I never said that," you manage to mumble out. Proceeding to hide your face in the depths of his chest as his arm curls around your middle, you continue, "actually, I do think you're winning the best boyfriend title today. With everything that you did."

"Well I gotta keep up my game. Can't have my girlfriend always being better at courting than I am."

You shove him then, "you know what? Screw you, I'm trying to be serious and grateful here."

"And I'm trying to compliment you," his lips skim along your cheekbone. He peppers a few kisses there before mumbling out, "you smell like the sea."

"Wise observation, considering we just went swimming," your face turns ever so slightly to face your boyfriend's doe-eyed gaze and in the warmth of his brown pupils your breath stutters at how beautiful he looks. That, and the fact that it feels as if he can't seem to look at amything else but you.

Beautiful, your throat closes up. Beautiful. Changmin's features rendered soft in the dim shades of the evening, the angular curve of his brows matching the feline tilt of his eyes, and then of course--

His mouth. Curled slighrly upwards in amusement because he just knows that you're ogling him openly without excuse. He knows.

"I know you've been struggling," Changmin's eyes search yours, "and it hurts me to see you like that."

"It hasn't been all that bad though," you murmur out before your throat clogs up as his palm cups your cheek, stroking slightly, "I've ...been okay."

Changmin snorts, "Y/N, anyone who knows you can see it. It's not that hard," his gaze softening then, his nose nudges yours and very lightly, as if you're made out of glass, he pecks your lips, "and honestly, it hurts me more to see you sad. You can be angry or moody or snappy. I don't mind that. I can take all that. But your sadness, that hurts more."

Guilt coats your tongue in a bittter aftertaste. You hate it, how much your mood affects Changmin and how you get overly sensitive, how the tiniest things can trigger you.

"I'm really sorr--" his finger presses upon your mouth to stop your attempts and he pins you down with his gaze, now hard and firm, "don't. It's my duty. No--it's not even my duty. I just love you Y/N. What hurts you hurts me too."

"Well maybe you can love me less?" You try to lighten up the atmosphere but the joke falls flat. He chuckles anyway, bringing you into another chaste kiss and murmuring against your mouth, "that, I definitely can't do."

Allowing yourself to kiss him back while your hands find their way to his chest, tracing the span of his shoulders to tug him closer, your mouth slants against his as time slips through your fingers.

It is only when you pull apart for air, foreheads pressed together and eyes half-closed, that you realize that the night now fully dominates the sky, the ocean dark and deep and abstract.

"Thank you," you finally whisper. You close your eyes and press one last kiss to his mouth.

"You know that--" he kisses you in-between words, "you can't just--" kiss "get away" one more "with that."

Giggling and kissing him once more on the lips, you proceed to pepper his entire face with kisses-- his nose, his cheeks, his jawline, his forehead -- everywhere you can think of. So much so that by the time you pull back, he's grinning at you with wet eyes.

"Let's go back home," his alto is rough with emotion. It makes you smile that you have that effect on him.

Pulling himself up and you along with him, his fingers find their rightful place in-between yours while making your way back to the car, the night air now cool against your faces with Changmin's warmth to keep you warm.

He holds your hand all the way back home, even if that means driving at turtle speed.

You let him.

Because after all, slowing down to bask in a moment is a luxury.

And you won't have it any other way.

144 notes · View notes

katytheinspiredworkaholic · 3 years

Note

hey Katy!!! i hope you’re having a good day and your baby is feeling better :) i had a slightly specific prompt that i hoped you could write out for me. Hotch and Reid thinking back to their first kiss but they remember it in completely different ways... do with it what you want, i’m sure i’ll LOVE it :)

Okay I will admit this took me a sec to decide where I wanted to go with it, but here is what I have for you <3 and thank you for thinking of us! He’s doing well, we’re just waiting on insurance to get their ass in gear so we can schedule his surgery. This ask was a wonderful distraction, so thank you for that as well.

This got hella long so it’s under a cut <3 basically a blurb/fic, hope it’s what you had in mind my dear.

Alright here we go.

Despite the fact that both Aaron Hotchner and Spencer Reid have completely different skill sets when it comes to memory recall, both near perfection between Hotch’s observational techniques and Spencer’s ability to soak up information like a dry sponge, they both fail to remember the specifics of their first kiss.

Or at least, they fail to accurately remember it.

When Hotch thinks back to his first kiss with Spencer, what he remembers is the hotel room door. At the far end of the hall, where he and Spencer were sharing the room -- usually Spencer shares with Morgan, or everyone gets their own rooms, but this case was different. This time budget cuts took precedent and they were covering multiple cases at once. He and Spencer were alone in that city, in that hotel, and it had been a long night with a high speed chase and a shoot out with an unsub they hadn’t profiled as armed and ready to go out in a blaze of glory. If they hadn’t been so well trained, if they hadn’t known each other so well and worked so in sync, it could have ended badly. They could be in a hospital, instead of approaching their room at half past one in the morning.

When he unlocks the door and looks back to Spencer, holding it open to usher him inside, Hotch remembers the weight of that door -- always thicker, heavier than normal doors, like most hotels are -- because he held it for what felt like an eternity. Spencer stalled right there, when his eyes caught Hotch’s, something passing between them that was charged and spoke volumes of what almost happened. What could have been. What was almost lost. Time slipped away from his awareness, in that moment, and although Spencer stopped right there in his space -- barely a breath away -- he didn’t press forward, or pull away.

It was up to Hotch to decide.

Hotch remembers making the first move, closing that miniscule amount of distance between them as he shut the hotel room door, his other hand pulling Spencer in and then...

In a fit of madness, he kissed him. There’s no other explanation for it. But Spencer kissed him back, and all second guessing or self-reprimand melted away between one swipe of lips and the next. Everything that followed, dates and dinners and goodnight kisses on apartment doorsteps, he can remember with much more clarity.

But that first kiss, it’s a little bit of a blur -- the only thing Hotch knows for sure is that he made the first move, and Spencer kissed him back.

When Spencer thinks of that first kiss, the thing he remembers most is Aaron’s eyes. They’re always a kaleidoscope of emotion locked behind the dark shades of his irises, but that night the depths of them were fathomless. The number of unspoken words and sentiments astronomical. Spencer kept catching glimpses of them, whenever their eyes would meet for split seconds at a time, and he’d seen the full spectrum over the course of that evening. Categorized them, as best he could.

Pride, connection, fondness, determination; all at the stationhouse, giving the profile, Hotch never failing to be quietly impressed by him and Spencer feeling the same about the older man, in turn.

Fortitude, strength, trust, apprehension; when they were out in the field. Aaron was always the one that trusted Spencer the most to do his job, be the Agent required of him in such dire circumstances. But he always worried about him, Spencer could see that in his face plain as day even when no one else could.

Panic and anger when the unsub started firing, relief and rage mixing messily during the shoot out, until that stone-solid, steady handed grounding took over and they handled the situation as smoothly and cleanly as they ever had. Bright, sharp glints of pride and a few other nameless emotions flickering there in the dark depths of his gaze when Spencer held his own. Just like Aaron had taught him to all those years ago. Time honed in the field. Whatever they were, they burned white-hot against something in Spencer’s own chest. Sparked like kindling when they met.

Stayed burned and singed there, long after, glowing like low embers.

The walk down the hallway of their hotel was long and deathly quiet. After all was said and done, and the case was over, and the unsub dead on a slab in the morgue -- when it could have so easily been either him or Aaron lying there, from where they’d been standing when it all started. It was also charged, and Spencer didn’t know what Aaron was thinking or feeling or if he’d already put it all behind him. Wouldn’t know until he could see his expression, those deep brown eyes that darken to black more often than not. So when he opens the door, Spencer looks up at just the right moment, where he is so close he can see every shade of brown in his eyes and every emotion hidden behind them.

What he sees stops him dead, and they stand there for far longer than necessary.

But Spencer... Spencer had to be sure, because what he saw? An array all it’s own, of trust and worry and care and passion and

Love.

Aaron moves to close the door, Spencer takes that final step into his space, and kisses him. Full, on the mouth kisses him, and doesn’t even have time to panic that he... really shouldn’t have done that. Because Aaron kisses him back. Presses him against the closed hotel room door, and the rest of that moment melts into a molten mess of Aaron’s body and Aaron’s lips and Aaron’s breath fanning against his face and... Spencer can’t really recall the exact sequence of events after that with much clarity.

But the one thing he knows for damn sure; is he kissed Aaron first, and Aaron kissed him back.

This obviously becomes a point of contention for the both of them. They spend years arguing over it, to the point it gets brought up in Morgan’s best man speech at their wedding because he’s had to hear about this damn night so much that he felt everyone at that reception needed to share the burden with him.

They don’t really care, in the end. It turns into a playful thing, something to pick a fight over when they want to make up in the best of ways. Tease each other about it, endlessly. “I made the first move.” “Like hell you did, you just stood there staring at me.” And so on, and so forth.

But what actually happened?

It wasn’t slow, at all. The way they thought time had slowed, condensed, became obsolete, was all in their heads. The only moment of stillness was immediately after Hotch opened the door and Spencer made to step inside, barely a heartbeat passing, contained in the split second where their eyes met. Two men caught up in the threshold, standing far too close, brown on brown in different hues.

In truth, neither Hotch nor Spencer made the first move, because they collided at the same time.

Hotch closed the door with one hand, the other snagging Spencer’s waist and pulling him in at the same time Spencer took hold of Aaron’s face and neck and dragged him in close and kissed him. Spencer remembers it being a long, drawn out kiss; Hotch remembers it being sweet and slow.

It wasn’t.

It was frantic and desperate, and Hotch indeed pressed Spencer to the closed door to kiss him deeper, haul him closer, but Spencer’s hands were already sliding up to bury long fingers in Hotch’s dark hair, guiding angles and kissing with deeper trajectory, and they became more and more entangled with every slide of lips and slip of tongues. Shared breath, deep bass exhales blending into sharp high-pitched gasps, and time did get away from them. They made out against the door until they could barely breathe, until they felt as close as they could get with their clothes still on, until Aaron pressed his forehead to Spencer’s and closed his eyes in search of finding metaphorical solid ground to stand on. While Spencer nudged the man’s nose with his own and breathed deep and attempted to get his head to stop spinning.

It was messy, and wild, and perfect, and rendered that impeccable memory recall completely useless.

It would be the beginning of everything, and remain the one thing that they could never, ever agree on. For the rest of their lives.

#asks #this got so sappy I kind of love that #you jumped the line because this sounded cute and I needed the distraction #and you also asked about my son so thank you for that #I'm... not feeling like myself tonight and I wasn't sure how this was going to go #I might like it better in the morning #I'm aware it's 2am shhhh #I couldn't sleep #HotchReid #Heid #katyswriting #rereading this it's a little convoluted but I'm not really in my right mind rn so I hope y'all still like it

99 notes · View notes

laequiem · 3 years

Text

Small Claims

/ Lorcan finally tells Elide that he thinks she’s his mate. Claiming follows. Fluff & Smut.

Fandom: Throne of Glass

Characters: LORD LORCAN LOCHAN / Elide Lochan

Rating: Explicit bay-beeeeeee

TW: a lil bit of blood

Lorcan Salvaterre didn't think he had any "firsts" left. Most of them had come to pass centuries ago. First fistfight when he could still count his age on his fingers. First real battle a few years later. First kill in his late teens. Those he remembered clearly. First kiss, first time getting drunk, first fuck—blurry meaningless memories he did not care to untangle.

Listen, my power went out when I sat down to finish this last week, so I decided that it’s cursed and that it needs to get out of my WIPs. So if it’s bad, please send your complaints to Hydro. Thanks.

read on ao3 • masterlist

In the last few months, he was surprised to experience new "firsts" with this force of nature he now shared his life with. Elide was the first person he cared about, the first person he loved. His first time having sex and feeling something more than pure lust.

And now, Elide Lochan was the first partner he ever had the urge to claim. Lorcan had bitten plenty of females before, but never broke skin. It was a part of his fae heritage that had never surfaced until he started traveling with her. He felt it first when they traveled with the circus and men kept hovering around her tent, trying to gage if they could bed the innocent fortune teller. He pushed the urge down, down into himself, refusing to acknowledge any feeling for her. He kept the urge at bay for long, even making fun of Whitethorn when he noticed the mark he had left on his Queen. But when Elide gave him everything, the need to claim her had flooded Lorcan's senses. It was not the time, though. Not when she was so insecure.

Since then, Elide has grown confident with her sexuality, initiating things even more often than he does. Still, Lorcan has not claimed her. He could not figure out how to ask her.

His primal instincts are always stronger on mornings like this. When he wakes up and she sleeps peacefully next to him, hair swept away, exposing her throat to him.

"Lorcan?" she asks softly, tentatively, pulling him out of his thoughts.

Elide's voice is not as sleepy as he thought it would be. It sounds as if she has been awake for a while. She shifts to face him, hands coming up to rest on his chest.

"Can humans have a mate?"

Lorcan trails one of his hands up Elide's arm and inclines his head, a silent cue for her to continue.

"I dreamt of Aelin and her mate and I… I was wondering why you didn't have one." Her tone is so sad, Lorcan feels his heart twist. "If it is because you're demi-fae."

He lifts a hand to cup her cheek, his thumb stroking over her cheekbone.

"Not everyone has a mate, Elide. They're rare," she lets a little oh and he continues, "I used to think I couldn't have one. Not because of my human blood, but because of… Who I am. What I did."

"Used to?"

For so long, Lorcan had convinced himself that he didn't even have a heart left. That his power, like it does to his enemies, had rotted his insides to the point of rendering him heartless. Living only to inflict pain and slaughter. Then, he met Elide and his rotten heart had made itself known. Twisting and pulling, accelerating and stopping, until he had to admit to himself that he cared for her. At first, it was an inconvenience, a distraction from his mission and the Queen he thought he loved. When he betrayed Elide and sold Aelin to said-Queen, Lorcan could hardly live with himself knowing she hated him, that he had ruined what they had. Whatever that was.

And now?

"I don't… think that anymore."

"So why then?"

"Why what?"

"Why don't you have a mate?"

Lorcan removes his hands from her and rolls over on his back. He stares at the ceiling, trying to figure out what to say, how to say it. Words have never been his forte. Elide is so good with words, but it seems the talent is not contagious. She inches closer to rest against his side, head on his shoulder. Can she hear his heart thundering in his chest? Can she read the fear on his face?

He inhales deeply, then exhales slowly.

"I think you're my mate."

There it is, the secret he has been holding for months now. He feels her still against his side and all his repressed worries to come flooding in.

She doesn't want to be your mate.

Who would even want that?

You don't deserve her.

You don't deserve anything.

You've killed so much.

You've brought on so much suffering.

It would be unfair for you to have a mate.

All she does, however, is ask, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't… I don't know how any of this is supposed to feel.” He rubs at his face with one broad hand. “I've never loved before, I don't know the difference."

Elide's fingers start tracing the outline of his pecs, toying with the dark hair there.

"Neither do I. We're learning together."

Lorcan lets out a breath of relief. She isn't mad at him. She doesn't laugh at him.

"It doesn't have to… change anything," he says tentatively, "I don't want to force this on you."

Elide shifts and leans on her elbow, staring at him with those devastating dark eyes.

"Lorcan, you never forced me into anything. I'm… honored."

He scoffs. As if. He already struggles everyday to remind himself that she does, in fact, love him. Thinking she would see being his mate as an honor was far beyond what he could imagine. She flicks his nose. He is not worthy of her and they both know it, the whole court—

"I'm serious," Elide chastises, "I wouldn't want anybody else."

Elide leans towards her husband and presses her lips to his.

"Who wouldn't want Lorcan Salvaterre, second in command to Queen Maeve as a mate?" she teases, her hand trailing lower on his chest, "A strong fae male to scare my enemies."

"You're the only female fearless enough to want me," he replies, as serious as ever.

Lorcan shivers as her fingers slipped past the waistband of his underwear.

"Why would I be afraid," she croons, palming his semi-hard cock firmly, "when I have you wrapped around my finger?"

Lorcan snaps and rolls to be on top of her. This kind of talk always got to him. Of course, his wife's body is beautiful and perfect, but it's that cunning mind and sharp tongue that really made him lose his mind.

He nips at Elide’s lower lip and her lips part for him, allowing him a taste. She always tastes so sweet—strawberries and cinnamon, more addictive than any sugary treat.

Lorcan groans as he witnesses her wide eyes, darkened by lust and need. He lowers his mouth to her neck, kissing and sucking the soft flesh. Her pulse rushes under her skin and his canines are aching to pierce and claim and—

He moves down to her chest before the feral thing inside him can fully surface. He focuses this energy on her breasts, knowing she likes him leaving marks for nobody but them to see. He palms one of her heavy breasts with one hand while the other seeks out her sex. Before he reaches his destination, however, she grabs his wrist and pulls him up to look at her.

"You're holding back," she simply says, "why?"

He must look absolutely savage right now—wild eyes, panting heavily, shaking slightly with restraint—for her to even bring it up.

"I want to claim you," he replies roughly.

Elide lets go of his wrist and for a second, Lorcan fears he drove her away. She understood that he doesn't deserve her and she doesn't want a life shackled to him and—

Her hand moves up to his nape and she lightly tugs on his hair.

"I want everything you can give me."

Her other hand reaches between them and grasps him again, angling his length to line up with her.

Lorcan's breath hitches, "are you—"

"Yes. I want everyone to know you're mine."

Everyone knows, of course. He does not preside over meetings with her, but everybody notices the armored warrior standing in the doorway, a constant threat of violence etched on his face. The Lady's brute, he had heard some whisper. They're right. Her uncle had called him a brute as well. No amount of gentle kisses and magical braces would erase the centuries of pain he has caused.

Sensing her lover's hesitation, Elide bends forward to whisper in his pointed ear, "claim me."

Lorcan unleashes himself with a feral groan, any semblance of control he once had shattering to give way to the beastial fae half of him. He drives his cock into her heat in a powerful stroke, eliciting a surprised gasp and a giggle from Elide.

With all his previous partners, Lorcan kept the kissing to the absolute minimum. But Elide's moans were a siren song to his ears, and he wanted nothing more than to drink them all up until he drowned. He claims her lips in a hungry kiss, so raw and unchained that their teeth clinked together.

Even with his lips on hers, his cock in her and a hand grasping her breast, he still needs more, more to touch, more to taste. By the way her hands roam his chest and claw at his back, his wife feels the same.

While he ruts into her, Lorcan reaches between them to toy with her clit, wanting—needing to feel her shatter on his cock.

She's mine, she's mine, she's mine. The words echo in his head with each slap of his hips against hers.

I have a mate.

Clap.

A mate.

Clap.

A mate.

As if she could read his mind, Elide echoes his thoughts in-between two short breaths, "my mate."

A shock passes through their bodies, heightening every sensation. The bond snapping into place, he supposes. It's overwhelming, better than any story Lorcan has ever heard. He feels her emotions, her love for him, as strongly as if they were his. He knows now more than ever that he wants to spend his whole life with Elide Lochan. That, no matter how short their time together would be, he could never live without her.

Lorcan hooks one of Elide's legs around his elbow while his other hand quickens its ministrations on her clitoris. The next thrust is deeper, angled just right, and Elide comes with a scream that will surely wake up the maids. He coaxes her through the waves of her orgasm, his eyes never leaving her flushed face. Beautiful.

As he feels his own release approaching, Lorcan leans towards her and drags his teeth down Elide's neck, inhaling her scent deeply. Just before erupting, he bites down, canines piercing the soft skin effortlessly.

My mate, my mate.

Lorcan spills in her. Once. Twice. By the end of his climax, he is shaking all over. He finally pulls away from her neck, licking his lips, then running his tongue over the mark. He stares at it for a moment, admiring as droplets of blood start beading out again. Will she want to keep the scar, like Aelin did? The memory of it will live in his mind forever either way, just like their scent will always be intertwined now. The possessiveness is not a part of himself he is used to, and he feels quite ashamed of the primal nature of it all, but faeries are territorial creatures.

Elide trails a finger up his throat and he leans into her touch.

"Am I supposed to… do it too?"

"Only if you want to," he says, brushing a strand away from her sweaty forehead.

She hums softly, considering. "Your throat does look bare without a scar."

"Do I not have enough scar for you, Milady?"

She laughs and Lorcan wonders if he will ever get used to the sound and how it makes his heart skip a beat.

"I like your scars."

Elide pushes on his chest and Lorcan pulls himself out and twists to lay on his side next to her. She turns to face him and starts tracing a scar that spans the length of his biceps.

"Do you want one?"

"More than anything."

#Throne of Glass #Elorcan #Elide Lochan #Lorcan Salvaterre #lord lorcan lochan #Kingdom of Ash #Empire of Storms #Smut #fanfiction #fluff and smut #fluff #Queen of Shadows #sjmaas #Sarah J Maas #Maas #faerie smut #ToG #KoA #EoS

135 notes · View notes