Tumgik
#runaway breasts
wyvernest · 7 months
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bright red lust
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pairing: miguel o'hara x f!trophy wife! reader
warnings: smut, car limo sex, misogynistic undertones (reader feels good about being a trophy wife), pda, teasing, dryhumping, unprotected sex, creampie, cowgirl
summary: you attend a gala with miguel and tease him until he finally gets you to himself in his limo
translation: "que rico" = 'how nice'
Any woman’s dream is to be his wife. For his rank, his money, his reputation, his everything. And it feels so good to know that he's so desired.
Because you’re at his side, not them. It’s you whom he spends his money on. It’s you whom he buys all the exquisite dresses and gowns for, all the best things you could ever want or need. It’s you whom he makes love to after a tiring day. Or after you wake up. Or anytime, for that matter.
You’re irreplaceable, but at the same time at his disposal. You don’t see it as a price paid but rather as a bonus. You’ve never been pampered so good before, loved so good, fucked so good.
So that’s why, whenever he has a new gala or special event to attend, you let him pick your dress out of all the various selections you spend so much time on finding. 
“Too long.” he dismisses, vision darting from your mauve-satin covered legs to your face. He’s manspreading on the king size bed of your presidential hotel room, hair dishevelled and half lidded eyes sleepy, relaxed. 
“You’re so picky today. I only got a few more!” You giggle with a faux offended expression. Behind the façade of worry that he won’t be satisfied with any of the looks, you secretly love these little fashion runaway sessions, feeling like his own personal top model, trying out different outfits for him. If you weren’t in a hurry, you wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to sit on his lap and accidentally grind your ass on his crotch when you got up as part of the little show. 
“Mm.” He hums, seemingly unaffected by your playful frustration. He knows you love it when he acts so pretentious and superior, but he loves you, and he loves the enthusiasm with which you show him everything. “Next, bebita. This one’s sombre.”
After a few minutes and struggles, you manage to pull on the pièce de résistance; a bright, blood-red skin tight satin dress. Miguel’s eyes widen at the sight of you, brows raised in silent approval and admiration. The length isn’t a problem this time, your beautiful legs and thighs peeking out with every step through the long slit on the right. The fabric is wrapped so deliciously around your breasts, slightly pushing them up together, plump and tantalising. 
"Maybe this one's a bit too much? I-"
"Do a 360." His eyes lit up, attentive and pleased. You twirl, making sure to slightly stick your ass out, checking yourself out in a full body mirror nearby.
"Me gusta." He gets up from the bed, gripping your waist to place a needy kiss on your cheek, before placing his lips on your own. You take his face in your hands, melting into his embrace. “This is the one.” His deep, low whisper sends shivers up your spine, your brain short circuiting. Who are you to say no to him? To those pretty, dark brown, red-tinted eyes?
"I'm gonna go get ready now. Thank you, papi." You turn around, yelping as he doesn't miss the opportunity to smack your ass as you do, smirking to himself.
When you finally arrive at the gala, you get out of your limo and start flaunting your exquisite dress, proud and flashing. You feel Miguel instantly cling to you, a secure, strong hand on your waist, its touch fervent and possessive. 
He doesn’t fail to notice all the other spiders gawk at you, turning their heads too sharply just to catch a glimpse of his beautiful wife. All the lingering looks, the whispered words of admiration, all for you. The hand on the dip of your waist tenses, both in immeasurable pride and a hint of stinging jealousy. But it felt amazing. 
All the comments, the remarks.
“Can’t believe he pulled such a pretty thing.”
“Imagine coming home at the end of the day to her.”
“Maybe being the leader of Spider-Society has its perks.”
They thought he wouldn’t ever hear them, but his enhanced senses have little to no limits. He feels his pants slightly tighten at the thought that so many other men want you. And yet, it’s his cock that you beg for, late at night. 
And you’re aware of this weakness of his. You know that showing everyone that you’re his gets him hard in no time. And as the brat you are, you can’t help it. Especially not when all eyes are on you two. Not when the paparazzi’s come in.
You run a cursory hand from his chest to his abdomen, arching your back, pretty figure on display for the pictures. Bolder. Your hand finds his cheek, his jaw, your eyes never leaving him. You enjoy feeling like an accessory, something that accentuates him, his masculinity. Something that belongs to him.
No other man has ever made you feel this way.
You gesture to him to lean down, your heels still not enough for you to be able to reach his face without his aid. He does, and you place a tantalising peck on his cheek, light enough so that your bright lipstick doesn’t transfer. 
Feeling him stiffen, unsure of your teasing, you decide to risk it and lean your face down to the crook of his neck. 
Hundreds of photographs flash as you kiss his neck, your soft lips lingering just a second too late, only for a red print to remain plastered on his skin, for everyone to see. 
He turns to you with an expression worth a thousand words. You know that face all too well. 
As soon as you get back in the limo following the after-party, you wave good-bye to all your acquaintances and friends. The driver takes a turn and exits the flash-lit area. 
Turning to look at Miguel, any conversation or small talk on the event you just attended gets smushed into a heated kiss you both longed for, his hands on your hips, pulling you into him on the back seat, your arms thrown over his shoulders.
When he grabs your thigh, you waste no time in lifting your leg over his waist, straddling him without breaking away from the kiss.
His warm hands slide underneath the red satin, grabbing at the globes of your ass greedily. You start grinding on him, your damp panties rubbing onto his erection in his pants.
Your breasts nearly pop out of your dress during the hazy make out session, and he parts from your lips to start kissing down your neck, stealing a glance down at them. Throwing your head back, your body turns into putty in his strong arms. He licks and kisses at the delicate skin of the tops of your tits, slowly and reflexively grinding up into your heat.
You moan his name, your breathing getting heavy.
He knows that having you in risky places only makes you even wetter for him, and he can't get enough.
"Ah! Oh- Miguel!" You whimper as a heavy hand smacks your ass, making you jerk forward into him, your tender body smushed against him so perfectly.
"Here? Are you sur-"
"Here, yes." Hot, shallow breaths fan your neck as he speaks in between kisses and gentle bites. "Can't wait any longer."
Your hands fumble with his belt and he quickly rips your panties at the seam, making a hole over your slit. Panting and rushing, you pull his hard, meaty cock out and align it with your dripping cunt. You feel him slip into you, nice and slow, filling you up with the familiar euphoria you have craved so ardently for the whole night.
He groans as he enters you, wet, warm and tight. Just when you were getting adjusted to his size, the limo goes over a speed bump and his cock thrusts up into you with the turbulence, its bulbous tip kissing your cervix.
You feel him deep in your guts, and as you begin riding him, he starts to buck his hips up into you, making you see stars.
"Que rico", he pants out, whispered, "having a pretty thing like you all over me." He
Keeping the thrusts quick and shallow, so as not to make your shenanigans too obvious, you bounce yourself on his cock; at first for his pleasure alone. Seeing him drowned in ecstasy will eventually being you your own pleasure as well.
All until he brings a hand to your swollen clit, rubbing furiously, throwing you over the edge in mere seconds. You come all over his dick, eyes rolling back, his name falling off you tongue in a strangled moan, sweet music to his ears.
He feels your pussy pulsate oh so deliciously around his cock, and it doesn't take him much longer to also release his load in your velvet walls, painting your insides white, claiming you as his.
As soon as he comes down, catching his breath, he smothers you with another fierce kiss, groaning into your mouth as you stir with his still sensitive cock inside you.
"We should do this again sometime, Mr. O'Hara." You tease, your lips straying away to nibble at his pulse point.
"Oh, we will, bebita."
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divider by @cafekitsune as always
a/n: finally wrote this 7 mesozoic eras after it was requested sorry man
5K notes · View notes
halcyone-of-the-sea · 9 months
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Run Away To Me (III)
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AU MASTERLIST || FINAL CHAPTER
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PAIRING: Blacksmith!Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Runaway Bride!Reader
WORDCOUNT: 5.1k
WARNINGS: Blood, wounds, medieval period-esc standards for women, arranged marriage, toxic family dynamic/relationship, blood, angst, protective Johnny, violence, hurt/comfort, speedy relationship, talks of sex/intimacy (nothing in depth) & virginity pertaining to marriage, religious symbolism & mentions, etc.
A/N: That's it for this AU - onto Werewolf!Ghost next.
*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*
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You’re kept behind Johnny’s back as you both exit the treeline, and you feel yourself quivering with unease. 
What would Lord Wilkin do to you? Drag you back? As the shelter of the trees leaves you, you tighten your grip on the blacksmith’s tunic, breathing out a shaky puff of air. Cobalt eyes look back at you, trying to reassure you as the first calls start up from the guards.
Johnny whispers out, his accent deep. “It’s gonna be just fine.” 
“She’s here!” 
Hounds dash forward but with a sharp bark of, “Get back!” They skid along the dewy grass and halt with rabid barks instead, fur bristled and spittle flying. The men surge forward, and you gasp as they grapple at Johnny’s arms. 
One tries to snatch at the neck of your cloak, but a strong arm traps the armored wrist and twists it sideways, snapping the bone as you stare wide-eyed as the guard screams; jerking back and stumbling to his knees. With a fluid motion, Johnny grasps the handle of the downed guard’s sword as he writhes with agony, unsheathing the blade and laying it upon the breast of the other with a dim call. 
He glowers and glares, eyes like burning coals. 
“I suggest you step back,” you watch, holding your breath from over his shoulder as the blacksmith leans closer to the man, one arm kept behind him and resting on your hip. “‘Fore this gets bloody.” The guard raises his hands and backs up quickly, fear splashing his eyes. 
All of the others watch nervously from the sidelines, either reigning in steeds or holding their hands to the pommels of their weapons. Waiting. 
You swallow the saliva in your throat and ask, quietly, “Are you alright?” 
“Don’t twist your head about me,” Johnny reassures, eyes traveling around the homestead as the guards shuffle and share glances. The Scot grits his teeth and tries to think of a way out of this. 
If you had run, just as the man had anticipated, they would have caught up in no time.
The clop of hooves from your left draws both of yours’ attention in a quick succession of perked heads and pounding hearts. You feel your blood drop to pool in your feet at the face that meets you. Johnny growls and shoves you farther into his shadow as Lord Wilkin comes closer with a horse of bay coat, decorated with all the finery of his station. Gold, great coat with an embroidered tunic, and riding boots. Strapped at his waist was a dagger encrusted with gems made of blood and diamonds.
Never mind all that wealth, he looked ugly and cruel to you—a glint of arrogance in his eye. You glare and grit your teeth, rage coming off in waves from Johnny as well as yourself. 
Wilkin’s old face is the same you remember smirking down at you as he drove the ceremonial blade into your palm, and your entire hand flinches in memory, digging your nails into the Scot’s waist. 
He puffs a sound of reassurance but otherwise doesn’t move an inch from in front of you.
“And who might this be holding my bride hostage?” The Lord’s voice is sly. Black eyes dart up and down Johnny’s form and the man you latch to has to restrain a rabid grunt of anger. Stay his molten tongue. “A blacksmith?”
“It’s MacTavish, to you,” Johnny calls, tone dead and laced with danger. Your body restrains a shiver as his warm skin sinks into you; the memory of his lips on yours is addictive, even now. “Be best for you to remember it, eh? Considerin’ I’m the one who supplies your fucking guards with arms.” 
Lord Wilkin utterly ignores him, his gaze sliding to you halfway through his sentence. You stay silent, lungs tight inside of your ribs. The unfortunate truth was that Johnny still had more standing here than you did, anything that you said would come up as null and void; in fact, it would be better to be completely mute. 
But with how the Lord was looking at you, your teeth had to bite into your lip to silence yourself. You had to come up with a way out of this. Soon. 
“Take my bride away from this brute. Chain him.” Wilkin hides a smirk, pulling at his steed’s reigns to shift the beast away with a snort and a flick of a dark tail. “I want his head on the block in the town square by tomorrow. I have a wedding to finalize.”
“Let the fires of hell go cold if I go anywhere with you,” you say, stepping out slightly from behind Johnny, much to his hesitation, but still, he watches over you and lets you do as you please. The blacksmith would rather not have this Lord’s eyes anywhere near you if he’s being honest with himself.
This Scot had made you bold—his words gave finality. If he said nothing would happen to you, you believed him. Perhaps that made you foolish, but his word meant far more than anyone else. Johnny kept his promises.
Lord Wilkin’s horse is jerked to a stop, its head snapping back and forth with a frothing mouth. His eyes travel back and a slow sneer pulls at his lips, sitting under a mustache of white hair. You restrain a cringe, and Johnny barks an order to the advancing guards to stay back as his large feet set themselves. 
“If they grab me,” he mutters, speaking over his shoulder, “run, Little Lady. I’ll be sure to give you an opening.”
Your eyes widen in shock and horror, but before you can answer, your husband-to-be calls to you. The Blacksmith’s expression is the picture of defense as he angles the sword in his grip at the far-off Lord when even the barest hint of his tone indicates you.
A low grunt was ringing in his throat like that of an animal—as if the bear fur inside of the house had come to life and was a shield of muscle and iron shavings.
Your eyes blink, and something begins forming in your head, but it’s gone before you can really grasp it.
“My Lady,” Lord Wilkin states, his guards taking up places beside him, glaring. The hounds have still not gone silent, and Johnny eyes them nervously. “I believe you’ve been overcome by some…” He grumbles and gnashes his teeth in rage. “Spell of disobedience. I’ll have a physician examine you and keep you in my home for a stay of recovery—”
“The lady said she’s not goin’ with you,” Johnny seethes, pupils slits. Your hand rests on his back, spread over the swell of his broadness as you feel his pulse. Hot and racing. “So pack the fuck up and scatter! And take the bloody mutts with you!” 
You spare a worried glance at the back of his head. The blacksmith can’t possibly believe that threatening them will make Wilkin pull back, and when he meets your eyes, you know he doesn’t just by the wrinkles by the sides of his lids. 
He’s nervous, shifting his feet in small increments to try and push you nearer to the tree line. Your body hardens. 
You’ve already made your mad dash—there was no more running. Certainly not if your new center of affection and protective build wasn’t coming with you. 
Wilkin raises a brow. “Quite demanding for the man surrounded…Woman!” You flinch at the sudden shout, the quick rage of his snapping head, and the quick switch. Johnny glares and his hands are strangling the hilt of the sword, white and held still. The Lord barks, “Your parents gained valuable gifts for your well-bred hand—would you enjoy them being taken away? I can do so.” Dark eyes sweep over you. A smirk. “Forget this spark of madness and consummate what you know to be done.”
Johnny lunges with a snarl, eyes burning with horrible anger and the intent to cut the head off the snake. The guards meet him as he yells to you, “Run, Dearie!” 
But your feet are stone.
When the man realizes you’re going nowhere without him, his eyes gain a sheen of panic as his blade clashes with sparks of steel with another. A dance of feet and wit that speaks to years of careful study; practice from both parties. Wilkin looks smug as Johnny lets off a loud curse and has to turn his attention back to the fight.
“Seems the woman’s come to her senses. Praise God, perhaps there’s hope for her yet.” You breathe heavily, hands clenched under your cloak. Your mind wished for a dagger—one to show this pathetic excuse of a man how much it hurt to try and have someone mark you for the pleasure of ownership. Like some common branded cow. 
Wilkin nods to you as Johnny gazes on in horror, narrowly dodging a swipe at his side before he elbows a guard in the face, splaying him out along the ground in a heap of leather and fabric.
“What are you doing?” He yells, voice booming out over the forest. You don’t look at him before you suck down a breath and steady your nerves; standing taller and setting back your shoulders. 
The trained grace that had been shoved down your throat on a silver platter came back easily. Forks and spoons sliding under your teeth, all engraved with images depicting holy scenes of sanctity while the blood of your flesh spills at the poke of thorns sitting on your head. A halo of bloody martyrdom. 
A tool. 
You can be a tool, you decide, flinching when Johnny’s body is tackled to the ground; form ricochetting as he growls and writhes. His sword clatters to the ground. They have him in binds, cheek shoved into the dirt, and great shackles that skirt the line between animal and human restraint. A guard’s hand forces his face deeper into the earth and Johnny bellows, ordering with wild eyes, “Run, dammit! Get out of here!” 
Sending a stiff glance, you stare blankly into cobalt eyes and blink away just as quickly, standing and staring down Lord Wilkin as he watches in contentment at the scene of the raging blacksmith and his seemingly placated bride. At the twitch of his lips, you raise your voice high. 
“Release him.” Dark eyes turn to slits before they slowly slither back to you. 
“Pardon?” You grit your teeth and feel Johnny glaring, a snarl ripping out of his mouth as he coughs through the grass. 
“Dearie, no!” A punch hits his stomach as he’s jerked up to his feet and attacked; chains rattling as hounds bay for blood. You sense your gut roll with bile as Johnny fights back—tree-like legs laying a kick square into one's abdomen. 
The two guards hang onto his arms, shouting at each other to try and restrain him further.
“I ask my husband-to-be to release the man that graciously gave me shelter during the storm,” staring hard, you’re trying to stop yourself from running to Johnny. You know you have nothing to help him with—it would be pointless and utterly stupid. 
Your brow raises, but a nervous twinge is still in your voice. “Does My Lord not take pride in the fact that the men of his fiefdom are so open to taking in those less fortunate than themselves?”
Wilkin’s cheeks go tight, skin pulling as the eyes of the free guards travel to him. The struggle gradually dies down across the way; cobalt eyes darting back and forth with panic. 
“Don’t bloody do what I think you’re doin’!” 
A trade would happen, but only for a moment. In your head, you were whipping past possibilities and scenarios. There was something on the cusp of discovery—so close to giving you the upper hand, but what was it? Like a thorn in your foot, you continue to walk over it; ready and willing. 
Johnny had your back last night, it was time you had his.
“Let the honorable blacksmith go,” you level. “And name your price.” 
The response is immediate. A flashing smirk. “Deal. I’ll take my bride back, just as was intended.”
“No!” Johnny’s tunic is all ripped up, tears from gripping hands only making the damage larger—nail scrapes along his hardened flesh from the guard’s ruthless hold. Skin white from the force.
If you look at him, you’ll lose your mind.
Under your cloak, your hands shake as Wilkin descends his horse, coming closer. 
“Keep your fuckin’ bastard hands off of ‘er!” 
Think. His footsteps march closer—thin and sly-looking like a sharp-eyed Egret. Think! 
Before his hand can snap at your wrist your mind sparks in a panicked moment, and you’re exclaiming with a loud voice before you can stop yourself or think the sentence through. You stutter at first but quickly gain your footing. 
“I-In good faith, I cannot accept—I am unfaithful to you, Lord!” 
The entire homestead goes still, and those struggling with Johnny’s binds freeze. Lord Wilkin goes confused, his wrinkled visage peeling in like a rotted corpse. But no faces are quite as good as the blacksmith’s, who goes so pale and wide-eyed before he can school himself in secrecy; his jaw loose. His heart pounds in his breast, shreds of tunic waving in the wind. You continue with utter conviction, so much so that you even start to believe the lie you’ve crafted with a swift mind. “See the evidence upon the blacksmith’s sheets—where we lay last night in the throes of lust; I am no longer a pure bride.” Breaths get caught in throats; eyes bugging to a nonsensical degree. You swear someone choke. Your face burns as you continue, faking a shameful falling of your chin. 
“I cannot marry you!” It’s almost enough to break you, the realization on Johnny’s expression as he darts his vision to your hand—which you hide inside your cloak; wrapped around your waist with false fear. Blood on your hand. 
Blood on the sheets.
“It would be shameful to do so, do you not understand? I am not but a used good.” Fake or not, the last comment still makes Johnny’s hands clench his jaw working itself with a restrained growl. 
But pride furrows his brow. A smirk was forced back from his lips.
You just took away what Wilkin loves more than anything else—control. 
The older man halts, his mouth going agape and a vile sheen coming to his cheeks. He stutters, “I...what?” It’s a violent snarl, but the man balks back from you as if you’re infected. “You dare lie to me, Girl? Play off this fallacy?” 
“It’s no lie,” you say, gaining confidence with how Johnny watches you closely, only once rumbling at the guards that hold him when they tighten their grip. “The evidence is plain as day in the Blacksmith’s bed.” 
Wilkin’s eyes flash, and he barks an order to one of his men to enter the main house. Only when his dark eyes are off of you do you spare a look at Johnny. 
You sag softly, shoulders losing some tension. 
Blue eyes lock with yours, firm. Sending an apologetic squint of your eyes, the man only slightly shakes his head, mouthing out, “Don’t worry your little head about it.” A quick, barely-there smile flashes his lips—but then you have to look away before you let the shaking of your body be known. No matter how hard you plead with your muscles to stop vibrating, they do so instinctually. 
You know what lying about this will cost you, successfully or not. You’d be labeled for the rest of your life; separate. But Johnny’s eyes on you ease the pain. Lets you breathe. If the worst thing that could happen to you was living out your life in his homestead and being at his side, then perhaps social execution was the only thing that pleased you at the moment. 
You just hoped that it didn’t lead to an actual execution.
“Lord!” The guard returns as Johnny continues to watch you, panting, with sweat dripping down his chin. His ribs hurt something awful, but he only glowered at the men holding him and stayed his violent tongue to let you work your strengths like fine iron wrought in the fire of his hearth. 
Wilkin’s lackey was hurriedly carting the length of the Blacksmith’s sheets behind him—clutching in his fist the vibrant red stain of your blood and displaying it to the light. Thinking about what they saw it as, instead of your wound opening, you cringe and restrain a sound of disgust. 
Even being around Johnny for as little time as you had, despite the kiss and infatuation, you had forgotten how crude the rest of these men could be. It’s like this sanctuary of trees and dew-soaked ground was in an entirely different world, and these intruders were wrecking it. By Johnny’s face, he felt the exact same.
Half of the Scot wanted to save your honor and tell them you were lying, but the desperation of the situation was far more serious than that. He couldn’t let you go back to Wilkin—he’d promised. So Johnny took down a tight breath and stayed silent; face burning and glaring at the ground with clenched fists shaking for blood. 
The guards holding his arms slightly release their grip, listening intently themselves.
Blanking, the Lord’s eyes lock onto the stain as the man brings him the fabric. Not a moment later his hand snaps out to drag it to his face, looking daggers into the redness as his eyes snap from place to place.
“...You did this on purpose,” the slow dead tone takes you aback, hands around your abdomen digging further into your flesh as a dread spills into your stomach with blossoming unease. 
“M-my Lord?” Johnny tenses, eyes sharp like a wolf.
“You did this so you could spite me, you little,” the encrusted dagger is unsheathed from its scabbard. “Whore!”
“Shut the fuck up!” The blacksmith bursts with wrath, jerking forward so violently that he drags the guards holding him along the ground, their calls of alarms making the hounds go ballistic. 
You take a small step back as Wilkin gets nearer to you—the point of the blade setting itself right under your chin; tilting your head up. Breath going tight, you stare with wide eyes and a pounding heart. 
He wouldn’t kill you…would he? 
The Lord’s eyes are brimstone and deeper than Hell, holding sinners in the bars of his pupils while devils of brown specks prod the pool of obsidian. If a man could be on fire and still be living, Wilkin was an inferno incarnate. 
“You belong to me,” he grits his teeth as Johnny’s voice blurs in the background, having to be forced to his knees by three men yet still nearly throttling one with the force of his arms. “I paid for you.”
“Then you should find it a lost investment,” you shakily reply, not knowing how you have the strength to stare into Wilkin’s eyes. But you do. You stare and you hold your hands tight into your flesh until the skin under your gifted fabric aches. A small prick of the blade makes you suck in a tight inhalation, a tiny droplet of crimson sneaking down your throat.
It’s a battle of wills, and before you say what you’re thinking, you’re nearly sure that in less than three seconds you’ll be grasping a slit throat. 
You clear your throat softly and speak in a dim whisper. “How will your guards react to you killing a woman in anger?” Expressions freeze. “What does God say about that?” You swallow, throat bobbing. Hit him where it hurts. “...What would the townspeople say? Mercy is not above our great Lord, that is an earthly prospect. I believed that was your greatest quality, is that not what everyone believes?” 
Wilkin stares, his mustache twitching. Dead face. Dead eyes. 
It’s a long, long moment before anything else happens, and when it does, you flinch.
The dagger disappears from your chin and you instantly back up several steps, breathing unevenly. Pointedly, you place your uninjured hand on your slowly dripping skin. 
Johnny’s taken down three of the guards, their faces bloody and your blacksmith’s nose broken. He yells and screams curses. You feel your heart constrict at the sight, pain zooming down your veins in bursts of adrenaline, but it’s seconds later that Wilkin speaks, loudly so that everyone can hear.
“I would never harm a woman,” you hold back a violent scoff as your hands shake, wanting to be taken into Johnny’s arms now more than ever—feel his heat and inhale his scent. Wrapped in a blanket of steel and ash. “In my good graces, I will pray for your salvation, Miss. But being soiled—” 
“Bloody piss off!” You send Johnny a quick glance at the outburst. He’s forced back face-first into the ground with a grunt and sputtering of grass in his mouth. 
“I no longer wish to be joined with you in holy matrimony. It would be dishonorable to my station.” Dark eyes swim with hatred, but the tone of his voice is easy and pliable. The Lord was a good fake—he plasters on an appeasing smile for his men and waves a quick hand in the air as he turns to his horse. “Release the brute. Let the pair roll in their sin of carnal desire. God will be their judge.”
Johnny struggles as they unlock his chains, but the second he’s out he’s springing full-force towards you; his skin sliding across your cloak as you’re guarded far better than any loyal hound or King might be. 
“Johnny,” you grapple at his biceps, sighing raggedly in relief. He doesn’t brush you off, only curling his side around you and angling his head to the mounted horses; pupils slits and lungs heaving. His nose looks awful. “Don’t, don’t,” you plead, “It’s over.”
The man doesn't respond, looking feral as his hair goes this way and that; coiled around your body about to strike at anything that comes close. 
“I’ll kill him,” Johnny grunts. “I’ll rip his damn throat out for speakin’ to you like that—for puttin’ a knife to your throat. I’ll rip him into bloody bits and pieces, you just say the word, Little Lady.”
Your arms encase the one of his you’re holding, dragging the limb to your chest. Cobalt eyes dart back to your face. It’s a long moment, but his expression softens slightly—the wrinkles beside his eyes easing while his lips twitch down. Blood drips off his lower face, spread around his under eyes, and stains his stubble with crimson gore.
“Please,” you mutter. 
He looks down and nods stiffly, even if he doesn’t like it. 
The horses are rallied, the hounds called, and with a throw of dirt from their hooves the convoy is off. Silence returns in slow increments of nothingness. 
Wind, the call of a bird, and the babble of a far-off stream echo through the pines. Only when they’re entirely out of sight and the dust has cleared that Johnny swiftly moves, picking you up into his arm. You squeak as he carries you speedily into the main house, rushing to place your backside on the table. 
His large hands immediately tilt your head up to spy the tiny mark from Wilkin’s blade, and you feel his shuttered breath against your throat as you go heated. 
“J-Johnny, what are you…” But you don’t get an answer, the man disappearing before coming back with a wetted rag. Once more, the man cleans your wounds with delicate presses of the cloth—ridding you of all blood. 
His jaw is clenched, and as you watch, your hand in your lap twitches. 
In a broken act of pain, you lightly run your fingertips over the swelling of his nose. The man stops, but serious eyes stick to your throat—unable to meet your gaze; there’s a red sheen to his neck and ears. Anger or embarrassment, you know not.
“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, guilty, and his widened gaze rips itself to lock with yours. Your vision blurs, afraid to touch him fully as if it might burn him.
“No,” he’s shaking his head. “No, you never tell me that. What you did, Dearie…I,” Johnny stutters, closing his mouth before opening it again. “I should be apologizing to you. It wasn’t fair to make you do that. Any of it.” 
A wobbly smile flicks your lips.
“Are you saying I should have left you?” Johnny moves his face farther into your hand, blood contaminating your skin but you don’t pull away. You let him sag into your palm instead, reveling in the scrape of his stubble against your soft hands. 
“I’d not see you harmed,” is all he answers. 
You sigh and blink away your tears, stealing the man’s rag so you can dab at the bloody nostrils. Johnny’s pulse is still fast under you—like the pound of his hammer. 
“Well,” his eyes dig into yours and you smile. “I believe my priorities are the same. I may have only met you yesterday, but I’ve grown quite fond of you.”
“Aye, well, everyone will know how fond soon enough.” He’s more worried about this than you are, a stubborn and almost grumbly tone to his words. 
“Is my purity that much of a sore point for you?” You can’t help but tease him, even in the circumstances. “I had no idea.”
His face goes more crimson than his own blood, and he blinks at you rapidly. 
“I…That isn’t what I…” You chuckle gently and press your forehead to his, whispering. 
“I was just joking.” He sags with relief, his hands coming up to rest on your hips with the care of a man unbefitting to his station. Again, you have to ask yourself how an individual so intimidating can be, at the same instance, kind and generous. 
His lips mutter, brows tight. “Are ya sure you’re alright, Hen?” 
You think, wondering about the run through the forest when this all began, the plea for shelter. Such a deep coincidence that you’d end up here—perhaps the most safe place in the entire fiefdom. Everything had lined up perfectly, barring a few bumps in the road. You doubted Wilkin will mess with this place after the spreading of your ‘promiscuous’ behavior.
He was too sly for outright violence if given the option.
“Yes,” you know, and thin your lips. “What about your nose? A-and everything else?”
“Don’t think about it,” the Scot smiles, eyes still glinting with worry. So many hours and you’d barely gotten any sort of break. “I just want you to rest, then, eh?” 
Maybe it was outwardly obvious, but the entire ordeal had left you drained; shaky, and still coming off of panic. What if they had killed Johnny…? 
You’d go back to Wilkin and live as his wife, producing heirs and locked away in his estate for the remainder of your life. What kind of existence was that? No, you knew, you’d never live like that. 
You’d never live like that here. 
With a shaky breath, you watch Johnny’s eyes flash with concern for a moment by your silence, but before he can speak you’re pressing your lips to his in a firm and honest kiss—sinking in every emotion you could. 
The man grunts in surprise, but doesn’t move back; if anything, his grip on your hips increases, sliding up to your waist. 
After a moment of tasting flesh, you pull back and whisper, “Thank you.”
Johnny breathes heavily, a glimmer in his blues, “Well,” he grumbles, “I’d say you did most of the work.” 
You both share a chuckle before you’re lifted again, carried gently over to the bed without sheets. You’re placed atop the bear fur and wrapped in that instead after your cloak is unclipped and folded neatly, set on the floor. Outside, the call of a far-off storm hits your ears and you blink to the window. 
“Stay with me?” You ask before you can stop yourself or can even think. 
The blacksmith’s breath catches, his fingers flinching as they were pulling the fur tighter around your neck. 
It’s a moment before he asks in a quiet tone. 
“You sure you want this, Dearie?” His lips go tight, eyes narrowing in inner conflict. You stare and already know the answer just by how he speaks to you. “I’m no King. I…I can’t give you fine jewelry or fancy clothes. There’ll be no grand suppers beyond the game I catch or what I can afford to buy. Long winters.” 
The air goes quiet with worship, and your eyes go wide with care. His broken nose is crooked, but it doesn’t seem to bother him at all. You wonder if that was for your sake or his.
“I’m not someone worthy of your beauty,” he rubs at the back of his head, bending down by the edge of the bed. “Certainly not your smarts. I’m only a blacksmith, Little Lady.”
“Only?” You huff a chuckle. Johnny looks at you in confusion as the black clouds outside roll in, seen through the window of this quaint and lovely home. The hearth is warm, the scent of food still in the air, and the memory of a dash through the forest behind you. 
“If you’re only a blacksmith, Mr. MacTavish,” you’re sent a fake stern look as the back of a hand goes to brush your cheek. You shiver. “Then I’m only a runaway bride.”
“Aye,” Johnny admits with a growing smile of adoration, “but still a bonnie one, at that.” 
“...Stay with me?” You ask again. 
The man breathes out, “Tell me why.”
“The trees do not deny what they need to make them whole, Blacksmith,” you whisper. “Why should I?” 
He’s clambering under the fur, wrecked clothes, and blood on his face but never feeling more whole. Is so little a time enough to fall in love with someone? What deity had tied your souls together so soon with ribbon soaked in rainwater—tinged with blood? 
His lips meet yours as you sigh into him, hands gripping his arms as they circle your waist tightly. Johnny breathes you in and lets his hands span your back, fingertips digging into your clothes. Into his mouth, you whine a plea for him to keep you close and hold you tight. It’s all your need from him. It’s all you want. 
For the wise know best: there is nothing better than a simple life.
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TAGS:
@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast
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xuchiya · 3 months
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cyber sex [k. hongjoong]
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₊˚.༄ || filth valentines m.list || hongjoong || seonghwa || yunho || yeosang || san || mingi || wooyoung || jongho || ₊˚.༄
₊˚.༄ I wanna get freaky on camera I love when we get freaky on camera ₊˚.༄
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it was those times you earned something after working hard; not those times where you had a long day or done a lot on your to-do list, more than what you wrote down.
after a long time at your office, long hand striking on 11 indicating close to midnight. you toss your bag on your bed, unclamping your hair free, shaking to loosen the tangled hair as you settle down on your computer chair.
"looks like february filth fest is starting ..." you smirk as you scroll down your feed to see posts of different users. you giggle, looking at the video of lip syncing yet sensual, touching their bare parts. then suddenly a thought of your boyfriend who was across the globe for his runaway party.
your smirk got bigger as you stood up rushing towards your wardrobe to pull out his favorite lingerie that he bought on your birthday.
after placing them, you apply a little makeup to emphasize your lips and eyes until you open the camera of your laptop, setting your phone to the side to record your reflection from the laptop.
(adding a little red light in the background.)
the music starts and so do your hands, mouthing those lyrics that you were meaning to tell them to hongjoong for a while. your fingers hook themselves on the strap of your bra; slowly dropping them.
your cleavage was very prominent when you squished them with your arms; give it a little shake, hands on them before mouthing the words, "i wanna get freaky on camera .." then you remove your bra, exposing your breast on the camera.
"i love when we get freaky on camera ..." you grope your boobs, while looking at the camera as if looking straight at hongjoong. running your hands around your chest then letting them crawl up on your neck. after feeling satisfied with your performance, you sent the video to him.
hongjoong almost drop his phone at the event; adding to the fact his heart soar when you casually jiggle your chest just like that. his eyes following every move of your hands, your chest glistening with your makeup highlights. his pants were once comfortable to be in, free and soft but now, it was as if those thoughts were just mere words form in his head when he saw you getting sensual.
"i see you have been ... busy, baby." you bit your lip, one hand running down your folds while the other pinching your erected nipples, position in front of your laptop camera. facetime with hongjoong.
you whimper, "i miss you that's why ..." arousal leaking out of you as hongjoong position his phone, lowered just above his hips; his whole upper body can still be seen. his dick can be seen pressing uncomfortably inside his dress pants.
"yeah? you do? spread those legs baby." you place both of your legs each on the armrest of your chair; exposing yourself more on the camera. you can hear hongjoong groaning, "fuck i can't wait to get home. and taste that pussy."
"oh hongjoong~" your fingers rub shamelessly on your sensitive buds, rapidly caressing them. hongjoong palm his hard; jerking them on his pants before undoing his belt then his zipper.
when hongjoong knew he can't hide his erection; mostly on the thousands of paparazzi, he has to go. and now he's back inside his hotel room, aroused by your intimacy.
"spread those lips for me." two fingers spread your folds open, hearing honjoong hiss made you aroused and turn on even more. he loves it when you do that, all stretching out just for him.
honjoong had his dick in his hand jerking it as he watches you messes yourself with the dildo you bought for yourself. he had love to see you fall apart on the silicon, yet he knew how you go dumb underneath him when it's his dick ramming inside.
"faster~ yeah that's it." you swiftly entered the dildo in and out of your hole, squelching sounds every time it comes back in. your hips jerking everytime the tip hits your pelvis, making your eyes rolled at the back of your head in pleasure; thinking that the one hitting those spot where hongjoong.
hongjoong groans, breath hitching in his throat when he hears your cries— whimpers he know so much. his throat erupted in dark chuckles, “are you gonna cum? But i want to see you squirt. Squirt those juices on my dick, come on baby.”
  Your body jerks at the amount of pleasure, yelping as you arch your back; hand continuing to abuse your pussy-hole with the dildo. You felt that familiar coil in your stomach, making you bit your lip, “oh hongjoong~ i’m cumming fuck fuck!”
  As expected in hongjoong, he stare as your cunt spurt out juices, a long string of “fuck” left your lips as you used the dildo to grind on your pulsing pussy. your body relaxes after a minute before you chuckle, “did i do great?”
  hongjoong nodded, still had his hard on his palm, your tongue glaze on those veiny cock of his. He may be towered by his members but that monster underneath those clothes says otherwise.
    “Yes baby but i haven’ cum yet … can you help me?” you nodded, sitting properly this time. You know how to get him done, he loves when you ruin and ride the dildo like how you ruin and ride him. 
   Placing the dildo flat on the seat, you turn around so your back is exposed to him as you ride the dildo. Sitting on your knees, you sheathed yourself down, gripping the backrest tightly; you were still sensitive from your first orgasm.
  You slowly bounce yourself on the dildo, turning your head over your shoulders, “so good hongjoong~fucking me this good.” hongjoong’s threw back as his hand speed up, mouth agape. Broken whimpers left his lips when he can feel the coil knotting.
he loves when you talk dirty whenever you were riding him. it always had his head on the clouds.
"fuck baby you're so hot riding that--shit i'm gonna cum baby!" hongjoong panted, eyes watching as you pick up your pace.
   His last straw was when he saw you jerk up, pulling out the dildo then another gush of your juices spurts out of your pussy, again “fuck baby~!” Hot loads of his cum covered his hand including his dress pants but he didn’t give one fuck about it. His chest rose watching you clean up, a smirk on his lips, “i’ll see you tomorrow baby.”
   You blew him a kiss not before throwing your lingerie on the camera before ending the call.
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taglist: @vantediary
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fancyfeathers · 5 months
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little head canons to go with my Yandere Neuvilette and Yandere Wriothesley’s mini series (read it here)
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Yandere Neuvilette
I highly doubt that after his and Wriothesley’s darling ran off he would never let her outside again, unless a number of years have passed and she doesn’t misbehave and then he’ll take her out, but only at his side and when I say by his side I mean his hand always intertwined with hers or his hand always on her waist
Anemo vision? Sorry love, afraid he can’t trust you with that anymore, but don’t worry it’s never far, Neuvillette always keeps it in his breast pocket, close to his heart like you. It’s almost like a small bit of you is with him
Over her months traveling she had lost quite a bit of weight only being able to afford the bare minimum for food with the little mora she had, so you can bet Neuvilette has noticed this. He is sitting at her side at every meal shoving more food onto her plate saying how unhealthy and thin she looked. Sometimes it gets to the point where it hurts and she gets sick and ten minutes later Neuvillette is holding her hair back as she throws up from over eating
He’ll coddle her like she’s a child and when she gets upset that she’s locked up he’ll remind her that this was all her doing, she’s the runaway and the convict and now she is just serving her time
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Yandere Wriothesley
his darling will also spend most of her days locked up, legally as an inmate of the prison but never treated like one, hell she’ll likely never see an actual inmate there unless she sneaks out of Wriothesley’s room which definitely happens
Speaking of sneaking out, if she wants to let off some steam and face off in the Pankration Ring. Oh bless her heart when Wriothesley finds out. He may have no problem when she looses her temper at him and throws a few punches, but when she’s faces against other inmates she could get hurt. He knows how to fight her without getting hurt but the inmates don’t. Besides that she’s not supposed to leave their room or his office so he’ll be more than fuming.
He may have promised her mother not to take her guitar or vision, but if she dares to use it against him he’ll tuck it away for a week or two just so she knows what will happen if she uses it against him again.
The guitar though, he won’t touch, unless he’s trying to get her to play, but she never does. He’ll ask her to play once and awhile which will be followed by a few swears and curses from her before he drops the question. He’ll try to play her guitar every now and then because he learned how to play with her but every time he does it is promptly snatched from him and always a go die from her.
A few years down the line if she is well behaved and served her sentence she was given in trial a rigged one but that’s besides the point. He’ll arrange it to go visit her family above ground, but he’ll always be at her side and present to her younger siblings that he is her partner and that they took a trip together and that’s why she was gone for a few years. Her mother knows the truth but her siblings can be spared that fact and live in a fantasy.
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Celebration- Lady Lesso X NeverFem!Reader (NSFW)
Synopsis: It was a night of many celebrations.
Warnings: SMUT. Alcohol consumption, kinda bratty bottom!reader, top!Lesso, some book descriptions, blindfolds, toys (vibe), denial, overstimulation, fingering, oral, biting, tears, tribbing w/toy, allusions to choking but not really, gets emotional at the end.
Word Count: 6.8k
A/n: Okay if I’m being totally honest, this kinda drags on (not in a bad way) because I have been lacking with motivation for smut, but it makes it’s incredibly intimate, so I’m not entirely complaining. I’ve been wanting to get this out FOR-EVER. Like longer than it should’ve taken. ENJOY 🥰🫶🏻
© This is my work, you have no right to repost my work for any reason without my explicit permission, all rights reserved.
☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎
It was a celebration of sorts. The staff was celebrating many things. Goodness prevailed, Rafal had fallen, the schools had joined, and Sophie and Agatha had returned to Gavaldon.
In all fairness, you did enjoy having those girls at the schools, not to get you wrong, but you were more than pleased to not have any antics started by Sophie anymore.
As a Never professor, you should've enjoyed it, but seeing the strain it put on your Dean, it wasn't enjoyable at all.
Lady Lesso had to deal with the newest reader starting things and challenging her, while she also had to deal with her past not only being brought up again but reoccurring.
Because of this, Lesso was not herself. A little rougher with everyone, that part you did enjoy, but there was something hidden within her. And you wanted to know what it was, you wanted to comfort it out of her. To be the one holding her while she sobbed like you knew she desperately needed to.
The triumph of that is what Lesso was celebrating currently. She would've been more angry with Good winning, once again, but she couldn't bring herself to care after all these past few events she had to go through, again. Something about watching it happen to another, hardly able to do anything about it, was almost worse. Almost.
Dovey, on the other hand, was tipsy off of her one drink and bragging about the already-known information to everyone, all the Ever and Never professors. No one cares that Good won again, you merely rolled your eyes.
You desperately wanted to down a few drinks. Not necessarily to get drunk, you were no light-weight, but enough to make this little 'celebration' fun. But instead, you were just standing off to the side, people-watching as your first shot went un-sipped and warming in your hand.
And by people-watching, you were watching one person. Watching how Lesso smoothly drank her clean whiskey on the rocks, downing it a little sooner than she probably should. You wouldn't admit just how impressed you were with the way she handled her alcohol, downing each drink and acting as if she was drinking mere water.
You hid your slight panic when Lesso made eye contact with you. Her eyes darting to the glass in your hand and back to your eyes with a single eyebrow raised.
How'd she know that you haven't drunk anything yet tonight? Was she watching you the same way you were her? You didn't think you were being that obvious.
It was now or never.
Instead of making a fool of yourself, trying to come up with an excuse, you decided to just drink it. You weren't a giggly drunk, or a mean drunk, or the runaway drunk. No no, what you were was almost worse, at least according to you.
You raised your glass in her direction, feigning a toast, and downing it in an instant. You didn't quite catch how Lesso observed each move of yours as you downed the liquid, watching as a droplet of liquor dribbled from your chin and down your exposed chest, all thanks to the low-cut dress you decided on.
How you didn't notice her eyes glued onto you as you took one of your fingers and swiped up the alcohol from your breasts and delicately sucked it clean in a moment, she'll never know.
It was almost instantaneous, the moment the alcohol hit. It didn't make you dizzy or nauseous, no, it made you unbelievably horny. You still had your entire self-control, that wasn't the problem. You weren't a handsy drunk, you were simply a horny drunk. Not even a horny drunk, seeing as it happens with just one drink.
You couldn't tell if the immediate flush on your cheeks was from the alcohol, embarrassment, horniness, or the way Lesso was still looking at you.
It was probably the combination of all of them.
You set the shot glass down and tried to look away, knowing that if you kept looking at her or if you had another drink, it wouldn't help your situation.
The liquor went straight to your center the moment the liquid went into your stomach. An almost uncomfortable heat starts between your legs and spreading everywhere else.
This really wasn't the time or place for this, there was a reason you only drank in your quarters or why you quickly left when you did drink.
You tried to not think about your predicament, to not think about Lesso, but that was proven impossible as she made her way in front of you. Little did you know, your sudden uncomfortable shifting was obvious.
"Is there a problem, darling?" At first, Lesso was truly a little concerned but it shifted into something more when she noticed your thighs squeezing together at the pet name.
"Oh, not at all, I'm all good. Just, trying to make some fun with this so-called 'party'."
Her signature smirk appeared on her face, "I can help with that."
With a pulse sent to your already aching pussy, you would've sworn it was the alcohol. But you only had one shot, no way were you already imagining things. You can handle your liquor better than that.
"Wha-?" You thought that maybe neither of you was thinking straight, but that was quickly disproven too.
She leaned closer to your ear, not helping your issue in the slightest of ways, "I can help you with your little... situation."
A low chuckle emitted from her when your thighs squeezed again accompanied by an almost undetectable thrust of your hips, almost.
You smirked as well, seeing her smirk and hearing the melodious chuckle, reaching out to grab the lapel of her blazer and pulling her even closer to you, "Don't make promises you can't keep."
"Oh my pet, I intend to keep it." She pulled back to look at you once again, matching lustful looks on both of your faces.
Silent words were exchanged as she just grabbed your hand. Of course, you allowed her to pull you from the ever-dying celebration.
The walk back to her quarters was unbearably long. The remnants of your self-control had snapped once her door was closed.
You reached out for Lesso's tie again, this time wrapping it around your hand before using it as leverage to pull her closer to you. Your confidence increased tenfold when you saw how her pupils increased from your little action.
Lesso decided that the time you took to examine her sultry eyes was too long, no longer wasting time she pulled you into a bruising kiss.
You could tell with the way her lips moved on yours that she had been wanting this too, for at least as long as you have.
A breathy moan was immediately consumed by the redhead as soon as it escaped your throat, all due to Lesso biting down on your bottom lip, the action causing the wet spot in your panties to grow even more.
Lesso moved you back, pressing you against the wall, and placed her hand by your head, effectively pinning you to your spot, though you had no desire to leave.
She pulled back from you just enough to get a quick look at your now-flushed face, "My beautiful pet."
Before you could even think of some sort of response, she reattached her lips to your jaw, slowly moving them down toward your neck.
You wanted to whine at the speed she was moving but your excitement and the anticipation unknowingly stopped you.
You need to feel her, to have her against you, persuaded your actions as you reached out to hold onto her waist, just to have her as close as possible to you.
The closeness you two were currently sharing wasn't enough, you needed more of her. Just as her lips had made their way to the nape of your neck, you began pulling the blazer off her shoulders. A chuckle came from her at your eagerness, but all you could think of was that you wanted to feel more of her.
It was driving you mad.
When Lesso pulled away from you to drop the blazer, you allowed an audible whine to escape. Her deep amethyst eyes were looking into yours, causing you to get lost for a moment.
"Tell me what you want," She spoke softly, her tone sending chills across your skin.
You tugged her waist further against you, "More," You were beginning to be breathless, the anticipation becoming overwhelming.
"Tell me exactly." She continued to pry.
You bit back your desperate sigh, knowing that none of your noises would sway her into simply giving in to you. No matter how much she loved hearing them, or how badly she wanted to hear more. No matter how badly she already wanted you.
"I want to feel you. I want you to touch every part of me, make me fall apart. Make me yours." Your last statement was a mere whisper as you moved your lips to rest near her ears.
She may be the one who's currently in control, but she can't rid you of your confidence. Not that she'd ever want to.
She hummed, the same torturous smirk coming to her face, "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you've imagined this unfolding before?" It wasn't a question, you knew that.
You tilted your head, "Well, do you?"
"Do I what?"
You smirked this time, "Know better?" Gods, the things she was going to do to you.
Her smirk turned nearly sadistic as she stayed unmoving, you began to fear maybe you crossed a line but that thought was diminished as she reached behind you to slowly unzip your dress.
You wanted to complain about the speed she was pulling the zip, knowing you could've been bare before her eyes with magic, but something about the way she looked into your eyes as she was doing it was oddly intimate. Yeah, you definitely weren't complaining.
Nothing about her wavered as she moved to pull the straps off your shoulders, the chill in the room finally running through you. But it was her touch that sent a shiver down your spine, the anticipation beginning to be overwhelming.
The dress fell off your torso with ease but caught on your waist. The dress, luckily, wasn't too fitted so with a little bit of your help it quickly fell the rest of the way to the floor.
Lesso wouldn't admit just how at a loss for words she was when she saw you, her throat going dry yet her mouth watered with her desires.
A few of your insecurities rose forward as she stayed unmoving, still staring at you, but all of your worries diminished when she spoke.
"You, are absolutely stunning," Butterflies filled your stomach with just how breathless she spoke those words.
You were left standing in a sheer black-lace bra, with matching panties, leaving not a single thing to the imagination.
"It's your turn, I think it's only fair." Your voice was just above a whisper, knowing that if you were any louder your voice would likely waver.
She played into it, leaning back slightly to watch you as your eyes raked over her. You couldn't decide what you wanted off of her first, you knew you wanted it all off. You decided on the vest, mainly cause that was the next thing standing between you and her bare skin.
You looked directly into her eyes as you popped one, two, and then the third and final button of the vest. You continued to watch as Lesso pulled it off her shoulders and let the garment drop to the floor next to her blazer.
Just as her hands went to the bottom of her button-up, you stopped her with your hands on hers.
"Wait! Let me, please let me." With a smirk, Lesso released the fabric, moving her hands back to the wall beside your head.
You pulled her closer to you with the loops on her trousers before untucking the shirt. Your eyes couldn't leave your hands as you watched, slowly more of her perfect body and porcelain skin was revealed. You could feel the anticipation making your head spin. But as your eyes remained on your task, Lesso's eyes stayed on you.
She loved how she could see the desire within them, the desire for her. Never, not once, has she ever felt more wanted than she has with you. You may not have realized it, but she noticed every single glance you threw her way, how could she not?
You still couldn't tear your eyes away from her, even once the the shirt was fully open, your eyes roamed across every part of her. A part of you was not at all surprised that she chose to abandon the common bra and go with the more comfortable sports bra.
A small smile formed on your lips as you noticed freckles on her chest, and a few peeking out from under the button-up on her shoulders, that was another thing that you didn't notice Lesso saw.
Lesso was taken by surprise as you swiftly pulled her flush against you, you wanted to feel her against you too bad to wait any longer. Taking advantage of this new position, you started leaving kisses on Lesso's neck, the sensation causing a hum to come from her. Chills had erupted across your skin, and unknown to you, across Lesso's as well, as you finally felt how perfect her skin felt on you.
You craved to hear all of the other noises she could make, that you could cause. And once you stepped out of your dress, you knew that Lesso gave in to her cravings as well.
She was no longer wasting time as she pulled you across the room to the awaiting bed, still perfectly made. That is, until Lesso's knees came into contact with the edge of the bed, prompting her to sit down. Her hands slowly ran up your sides as you moved to straddle her.
Though neither of you noticed, nor cared enough in the moment to pay attention to it, you knew that from this point forward neither of you would be able to go without one another. The addictive touch she laid against your sensitive skin, the chills she erupted just by the ghosting of her breath, you wouldn't be able to go without it now that you're aware of how thrilling it is.
Just as her lips came back to your neck, your arms involuntarily wrapped around her own neck to pull her closer against you, the feeling of her suckling your skin to leave a mark caused a breathy moan to escape you.
And boy, did that moan just snap the last remaining control Lesso had. In a blink, she had switched positions to where you were laid against her bed, hair sprawled out on the duvet and face beginning to flush, that was a scene she'd devote to memory.
"Gods, the things I'd do to you." Her eyes roamed over you once more.
It had been a hefty moment since you said something smart in return, you tsked, "You keep making promises, but I've yet to see results."
Lesso's eyes shot to yours at your audacity, only to see your eyes blown with lust. She'd be lying if she said this didn't have any effect on her.
"Oh, pet. We've only just begun."
You wrapped your legs around her waist, the slight friction was enough to make your breath hitch, gods you were so fucking desperate, "You're still wearing more clothes than me." You quirked your eyebrow, watching as a smirk slowly came to her face.
Instead of simply untangling you from her, she pushed your legs further up her waist. You had a slight pout when you realized it was your body that was obstructing your view of her unbuttoning her trousers and sliding them off. But your pout didn't last too much longer, not once you began to feel more of her soft skin against yours.
You had to fight back any possible sounds that you could've released as you saw her crawl back up you after releasing your legs from her, the way she did so was almost primal, stopping just at chest level. Your eyes could help but flutter a bit once you felt the warmth of her trailing kisses all across your chest.
Your hands instantly came up to her head, entangling in her fiery locks as she startled suckling on a spot just below your collarbone. A hum involuntarily came from you as you felt her hand roam up your side.
Just as her lips started trailing further down your chest, her free hand moved to your hip to steady herself. The moment she squeezed your hip was the moment she nipped the exposed top of your breast, just peaking from the top of your bra. The sensation was soft yet intense enough to make your head spin.
The near-silent whimper and tightening of your grip on her hair certainly didn't go unnoticed by the Dean.
"Pet, if you want something, you need to speak." You practically felt her words on your skin as she just barely lifted herself from you.
You took a stuttering breath, anticipation taking over your thoughts, "Gods, please, I need more,"
"Mmm, very good," She left one final nip to your skin before pulling back.
Lesso adored how much you were squirming, but she could tell you were trying to keep yourself from moving too much. And she unknowingly made it her mission to see just how much she can make you squirm, after all, she's just barely touched you.
She finally reached behind you for the clasp of your bra, able to do so with your back being slightly arched in attempts for more contact. The moment your breasts were freed, Lesso was transfixed. She would've taken longer to admire how the cold air caused your nipples to nearly instantly harden, but her desire to finally taste you was too strong.
She quickly decided that she was done wasting time, that she would take her tastes and bites with pleasure, hoping to soon see you fall apart. Sure, it was your pleasure, but it was her selfish need to watch her cause it. To hear you call her name as you finally come on her fingers and tongue.
A small moan left your lips the moment you felt her lips wrap around your left nipple, the sound becoming slightly louder as you felt her tongue swipe over the sensitive bud. Your hand moved to her waist, pulling her weight on top of you. Lesso didn't mind too much as it allowed her greedily to feel more of you.
You could feel your arousal becoming increasingly harder to ignore, and you just knew that you had long soaked your panties. Lesso had switched to your other nipple, knowing that she couldn't go without giving attention to both.
Lesso moved to the valley between your breasts, leaving a mark and starting a trail down to your navel. While this would've been plenty to make you even more desperate, her hands moved to where your thighs met your cunt, yet she never quite reached where you wanted her.
"Fuck! Leo, please!" Tears of frustration were starting to arise, "No more teasing!"
Something else ignited within the redhead at hearing the breathless whisper of her name.
"Say it again, say my name again."
"Please, Leo,"
She smirked, "Oh, how I love my name sounds coming from your desperate mouth." She nipped your hip, before pulling back and looking at you.
You thought you were going to get another remark or even some more teasing, but you were pleased to see and feel as she curled her fingers under the waistline of your panties and pulled them down your thighs, practically ripping them off past your knees and tossing them off to the side.
Lesso nearly moaned herself at the sight of you being completely soaked.
"It's all for you," You spoke breathlessly, watching how Lesso licked her lips before staring directly into your eyes.
"Oh pet, it better be all for me,"
You smirked at her tone, "Uh huh, and what if it wasn't?"
She got up to her knees and gripped your thighs, yanking you down the bed, you were nearly eye-level with her. The look on her face almost made you want to take it back.
"I'll show you." Your stomach filled with nervousness and excitement at that statement.
Before you could even realize, in the time of a blink, she was back between your legs. She swiftly pried your legs apart and pulled one over her shoulder.
It's like with your words, she had to prove you wrong. That she knew she'd have to ruin anyone else for you, anyone else but her. But she didn't have to try that hard, you didn't even think of anyone else but her already.
Your head fell back against the bed at the first swipe of her tongue, gods you were so fucking desperate.
A whole moan finally left your lips and your hands flew to Lesso's hair as she started devouring you as if you were her last meal for the next millennia. Her hands were wrapped around you and laid against your hips, her grip unrelenting and you knew you'd have marks to remember this time for days to come. Not like you were complaining.
Her tongue was expertly gliding over your clit, as if it already knew all of the spots that caused you to squirm. The suction and swirling combination she did stole the breath from your lungs.
"Fuck! Don't stop!" Your back arched further off the bed and Lesso could feel your pathetic attempt to close your thighs, it was blatantly obvious you were so close to your orgasm.
That blissful orgasm that you knew only Lesso would be able to bring. The very same orgasm she ripped from you as she stopped her ministrations.
You whined, tears of frustration brimming your eyes, "Fuck! Why?!"
"All for me, right?"
Your pleasure-clouded mind wasn't thinking straight, "What?!" Your back collapsed against the bed, your eyes searching hers for an answer before she spoke.
"Tell me, it's all for me. Tell me, that this pretty pussy only gets soaked for me. Tell me that you're all mine." She was looking square at you, her eyes going more dark with each word she spoke.
"Yes! It's for you!" She responded with a bite to your inner thigh, and a wince escaped you.
"Not good enough. Again."
"It's all for you, always for you," You paused to think about the words she said. "This pussy is yours. I'm yours."
A pleased smirk graced her face and she returned to your throbbing cunt again, she could taste your desperation, but she couldn't wait to taste your come.
Her tongue was swirling around your clit like it previously had, slowly building up your peak once more.
Just as your fingers threaded through her fiery hair again, her fingers started tracing your entrance.
"Please! More!" She didn't have to be told twice.
Two fingers instantly slipped into your pussy, all thanks to you being completely soaked. Lesso had never heard a more delicious sound before than at this moment. She couldn't find it within her to do anything that would potentially stop you from making more of those sounds.
She started thrusting her fingers at a generous speed, never ceasing her actions on your clit. Gods know you were nearly seeing white as she did so. One of your hands began fisting the sheets beside you, and you would've sworn you had torn them.
"Yes, Leo!" Your moans were motivation enough to keep her going, to ignore the strain of her jaw and tongue and ignore any possible burn in her forearm.
She had begun curling her fingers, instantly hitting the right spot within. And after a few brief moments, she could feel your thighs begin to quiver under her.
Just as you were about to voice your impending orgasm was about to arrive, she stopped. She didn't ease out of it, she pulled back.
The tears had finally fallen, "No! Fuck! Come on, please let me come!" You begged.
You begging with tears down your face was now Lesso's favorite thing.
"I told you, we've only just begun."
It may have only just started, but damn did you want to come. You still couldn't squeeze your thighs to relieve some of the desperation as her grip on your thighs hadn't eased.
You knew that what you were about to say would get you your way, "Please, I wanna come. I wanna come for you."
Lesso's eyes would've darkened more at that sentence if it was possible, you saw as she tried to bite back another smirk as she swallowed. You saw her head turn back to your thigh and you knew you had won as her tongue peeked out to taste your mid-thigh, trailing up back to your dripping cunt.
She resumed once again, continuing to swirl the tip of her tongue over your clit. You hoped that this would finally be it, that this would be when she finally let you come. You knew that this would be the hardest you've come in a while, if ever.
Your moans hadn't ceased since she returned to your needy pussy, and they only got louder as she inserted her fingers again. She was unforgiving in the way she wasted no time to gradually speed up her fingers, instantly going the pace and curling her fingers the same way that swiftly brought you to your near high earlier.
And just like before, it didn't take too long for you to get close once again. Your neediness with her speed and skill caused you to return to the edge of your orgasm quickly.
"I'm gonna come, please don't stop! I wanna come for you!" Your words were beyond rushed, hoping she wouldn't deny you again. Your grip on her hair became stronger, just as the shaking in your legs did.
Lesso did nothing this time but hum. You took that as her approval, that and the fact that she didn't pull away or stop again. You bit onto your bottom lip as your body tensed, though you quickly released it as you finally came with a curse and Lesso's name. Your orgasm hit you harder than a tsunami would meet land.
"Oh, fuck, Leo!" Your back finally had a chance to relax as your body fell flush against the bed.
Lesso slowly stopped her actions, allowing you a moment to calm yourself without stopping the pleasure too suddenly.
She started leaving more love bites along your inner thighs before she pulled back and looked at you.
"Do you trust me?"
It took you a moment to catch your breath, "What? Why?"
"Do you, trust me?" She annunciated.
"Yes, I do."
"Excellent." She said nothing else but summoned a black silk tie, which you assumed was one of the ones she frequently adorned. "This will go over your eyes," Excitement distracted your neediness.
"Say 'red' and I stop, got it?" She crawled up your body, moving to straddle your waist and you took a moment to steal a glance of her perfect body.
"Got it." She smiled and reached down, setting the tie over your eyes.
Soon, your vision went black. You felt her tie the tie behind your head and you couldn't wait to see what she would do next.
But she got up. You wondered if she was simply standing, observing your needy and pathetic self squirming on her bed all sprawled out and waiting for her. But you heard the sound of a drawer sliding open, you tried your best to hear any other clues as to what was about to take place but it was nearly silent.
Suddenly after a few moments, you felt her hands roam across your body. Slowly her hands worked their way from your thighs to your hips, up to your chest where they only stayed on your breast for a moment, much to your displeasure. Her hands continued up until one of them lightly wrapped around your throat. Only the slightest of pressure was added, but Lesso was beyond pleased to hear a whimper come from you at that action.
Her hand stayed in its place, the pressure in which it was wrapped around you increased slightly as you realized she was beginning to straddle you again. You registered that in the moment she was gone, she stripped the rest of the way as you felt her own wetness come into contact with your lower stomach.
"So beautiful," She whispered for the second time this night.
Her hand moved from your throat as she moved to be kneeling between your legs, but it didn't land anywhere else on you. You strained your ears to hear any hints and what she could have been doing.
But, you didn't have to strain too hard before you heard the start of a buzz, and you knew what was to come. But the idea of Lesso having one came to mind, the idea of Lesso bare on her bed using one caused a whimper to come from you and wetness to start dripping down your thighs.
"Oh, god!" You nearly screamed as the vibrator was pressed against your sensitive clit.
The vibrator brought you back to your high nearly instantly, all thanks to it being on full power and you being incredibly sensitive and desperate. You knew you couldn't take it if she took this orgasm from you again.
"Oh, fuck!" Your back arched to the point where your neck wasn't in contact with the bed any longer. "Please don't stop, I'm so close!"
"I'm not going to stop," Her eyes raked over you, loving how a layer of sweat adorned your perfectly heated skin. "If you're going to come, come."
With her near demand and the continuous stimulation, you couldn't resist. You screamed her name as you saw white. You tried searching for her to hold onto, but in the half second you tried and failed you simply relented to grip the sheets once more.
You couldn't catch your breath, the vibrator still being firmly pressed against your abused clit no matter how much your hips bucked at the stimulation.
"I-I can't-"
"I told you, I'm not going to stop." You didn't see it, but you could hear the smirk in her voice.
One hand stayed attached to the sheets but your other reached down in attempts to shun the friction from your cunt, just to give you a moment to breathe. But Lesso's free hand grabbed your wrist and moved your hand above your head.
"That stays there." Her time left no room to argue.
The vibrator stayed on your swollen clit, your thighs began to shake again but this time, not from denial. You felt Lesso grab one of your legs and move it atop hers and her other leg swung over you. It took you a moment but once you heard a delicious moan of her own, you finally pieced together the position you were now in, both of your hips were nearly connected.
Lesso couldn't ignore her own need anymore, she had moved you around her so she could have access to the vibrator too. And the mental image of this position, her between your legs and the vibrator pressed against both of your clits, just pushed you that much closer to the edge.
"Leo, I-I'm close again!" You were surprised that words managed to come out as you were so breathless.
Another moan came from the redhead, seeing your orgasm is one thing but this one, she'll get to feel it too, "Wait, wait for me."
And oh dear gods did that single sentence give you the willpower to hold off long enough so that you would get to come with her. You realized with this willpower came overwhelming pained pleasure.
Lesso was getting close to her own orgasm, rocking her hips into the vibrator. Each increase in pressure almost sent you over the edge but you'd be damned if you didn't get to come with her.
"You ready, pet?"
"Yes! Yes! I wanna come with you!"
"Go on, come pet," She was breathless too.
"Oh shit!" Your legs shook a bit harder and your hips bucked again.
That buck being the final push to send Lesso over the edge too. Your name falling from her lips luckily didn't go unnoticed by you, even in your near-blacked-out state.
You tiredly attempted to pull yourself up the bed, "Can't. Too much." You tried to speak, but your voice and body were weak.
Your body still had residual shakes as you heard the vibrator shut off and as the blindfold was removed.
You felt the bed beside you dip and you processed that Lesso was hovering over you. You looked at the care-filled face of the Dean for a moment before trying to focus on catching a breath.
You felt her hands come to your thighs, but before you could protest anymore for the night, her hands began massaging your twitching thighs.
There was a comforting silence that was shared between the two of you for a moment, Lesso still opting to bring sensation back to your legs.
You were finally starting to come back, you realized as your thoughts became more clear. And she realized too as your eyes began to look around more and lose their clouded appearance.
"How are you feeling?" Her soft voice was just above a whisper.
You looked from the side to her, seeing concern laced in her features, "I'm feeling damn good if I'm being honest."
She couldn't help but chuckle at that, knowing you had finally come back to her.
"Good, I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere." She added as she stood off the bed.
"Don't think I could if I wanted to." You simply responded, earning laughter from the Dean.
She was very much aware that you likely wouldn't be able to move, which is precisely why she got up to get the rag to clean you up with.
She returned with a damp cloth, wiping your sweat-covered face and chest before moving between your legs. The events left a mess all over your thighs, nearly to your knees, which is a first for you. Again, not like you were complaining. Lesso abruptly looked at your face when you winced the moment the cloth came into contact with your beyond-sensitive clit.
Lesso got rid of the cloth, still looking to find something that may soothe you.
"Are you thirsty? Would you like something to eat?" You smiled as she pushed some of your hair away from your face.
"I'm all good, I'd rather be close with you if you don't mind?"
"Of course, I don't mind," She said as she got back on the bed beside you. "We will have to shower tomorrow at least, we absolutely smell of sex."
You chuckled this time, "All thanks to you."
Lesso only had a playful eye roll as a response. You shuffled closer to her, wrapping your arm around her waist. You both still enjoyed the feeling of each other's skin on your own.
The moment was calm, neither of you quite ready for sleep as energy surprisingly still coursed through your veins. You delicately ran your finger over her side, a kind action that Lesso was certainly not used to.
Your mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Lesso, partly replaying the amazingly wild events that just took place, but mostly of her reserved behavior. Well, more reserved behavior. You knew that something wasn't right and you not only wanted to know what but you also wanted her to know that you're here to listen.
You moved your face up to see her a little better, watching for a moment as she stared up at the ceiling with a nearly undetectable smile on her face.
"What are you thinking about?" You inquired.
"Nothing, nothing at all." That was all she said.
You had allowed a few minutes to go by, mainly so you didn't possibly ruin the moment with your conversation, but you couldn't go any longer without addressing your thoughts.
"How are you doing?"
Lesso scoffed, beginning to sit up and sat on the edge of the bed. That response told you everything you needed to know, she wasn't doing alright.
You stopped her before she could stand up, "Look, I'm sorry if I crossed a line or if you don't want to share but I thought it would help. I know something is not right. And if you don't want to talk about it, I won't make you. But, I'm here for you if you do."
She looked over her pale shoulder at you, and you could see the start of a tear gleam in her eyes, "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you actually care."
"Well, do you?"
"Do I what?" The Déjà Vu hit both of you at the moment she spoke.
"Know better."
She scoffed again, but this one was different.
"I do care." You added.
"I just, never thought I'd have to endure something like that again. So, I pushed it all down and-" She cut herself off and shook her head.
"Talk to me, please?" You sat up with her, ignoring the way your legs protested. "I hate seeing you hold this in."
She relented, laying back down on the bed, trying hard to not get close to you like she desperately wanted to, "I pushed all the memories down. 'Out of sight, out of mind', right? But all this just made me realize I wasn't okay, I guess."
You were at a loss for words at her confession, a part of you knew that's what was bothering her, but hearing it and hearing her emotions coating her words was entirely different from your expectations.
Since you had no words, you simply just laid back down beside her and pulled her onto you. Her arm instantly wrapped around your waist as she buried her face in your neck.
"I may not know exactly what you've been through, but I do know that you won't have to go through that ever again. Not while I'm around." You spoke with certainty as your hand returned to her hair, your nails lightly scratching her scalp.
A soft kiss was placed where her lips lay against your neck, "I know." You weren't sure how she knew, but you were glad to hear that she fully believed the words she just spoke.
"No matter what you go through, from now on you won't ever have to go through it alone. I promise you that." You were so disappointed that an amazing woman like Lesso had to go through so much all by herself, going through hardships alone.
She may be the Dean of Evil but she didn't deserve that, no one does.
"You can't really promise something like that." She whispered.
"Oh, I'm not going anywhere. Everything you go through, I'll be with you for it. You've already marked me and you can't it back." You gestured to your body, now covered in love bites thanks to the redhead.
You felt lighter at the sound of her laughter, "Okay, okay. You make a good point." You could feel her smile against your skin.
"I usually do." You planted a kiss on her hairline.
At this moment, with the admissions now in the air, you knew that though the future may not be set in stone you also knew that you'd be alongside Lesso. The way you both just poured your all into each other finally caused you to be calm enough to feel tired.
Your body feels full exhaustion, Lesso fully relaxed against you.
"I think it's time we get some sleep." You suggested as you summoned a light blanket to lay over your bodies, you knew that neither of you wanted to get up but you needed to be covered.
"Mm, me too." You would've pulled her closer to you if it were possible, so instead you just strengthened your grip on her.
Lesso may be this Evil being to everyone else, but she knew you never really saw her as that. And now she knew that you saw her for who she was. That you saw the humanity within her, and for that, she couldn't be more grateful. In the few moments before she gave into sleep, she vowed that she'd do everything in her power to make sure you'd know that she was there for you in the same way you were for her. She vowed that you'd never have to wonder if you're worth it.
But both of you vowed that the other would never have to be alone again, that you'd have the other beside you through it all.
🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮
Taglist: @inlovewithgreta @v3nusxsky @just-your-casual-nerd @pebbleswritessometimes @hxzxrdous @bigolgay @scream-queenlover @darkth1ngs @sgelessoanddoveykissing @i-like-reading
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corruptedcaps · 5 months
Text
The Mean Manual
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“64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 69…. Done!” Charlotte groaned as she finished her 10th straight day of her bust exercises. She stretched out her remarkably flexible body and looked lovingly at her big tits. She almost couldn’t believe that two weeks ago she had the body of a flabby no chested geek but that was before she found, the book.
Back then she was know as Charlie, a girl so anonymous you could ask her classmates what she was like and they would reply with, “Who?”
Charlie wasn’t noticeable enough to be bullied, didn’t stand out enough to be noticed, a quiet solitude she had grown to accept. She would spend her free time in the school library, reading her fantasy and sci-fi books away from the crowds.
However that changed when she found, hidden behind several books in the reference section, the ‘Mean Manual’. Its cover was a bright pink that almost glowed amongst the drab covers it surrounded that made it hard for Charlie to ignore.
Pulling it out she blew away the dust that had accumulated over years maybe even decades of neglect. Charlie opened the tome and curiously flipped through its pages. It seemed to be some sort of guide to becoming the ‘Queen of Mean’.
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Charlie chuckled to herself as she skimmed its pages, realizing it had to be some sort of parody book. How could it not be with chapters like ‘Spreading lies to get your way’ and ‘The 10 ways to steal a man’. It was laughable to her that anyone would take the instructions as gospel.
Amused by it, she decided to take it home and read some more. It was there that she came across the chapter on ‘beauty exercises’. There was sections on toning your stomach, getting the perfect tan, how to make your body more supple, but what weirdly interested Charlie was the section on breast growth.
As the other girls in school had all hit puberty and grew reasonable and sometimes outrageously sized tits, Charlie had lagged behind, growing no more than an ‘A’ cup. It wasn’t something Charlie ever cared about, most people didn’t notice her anyway, and yet she found herself reading the instructions on how to increase her boob size intently.
“I’ll give it a try, just as a joke of course.” She said to herself with a half hearted laugh as she readied her body. The excercise involved getting on her knees and pushing out her chest 69 times, which seemed intuitive enough if a little juvenile but what was odd was she had to moan each time she did it. She felt a little silly as she began.
However with thrust of her chest her moans got a little louder, a little more genuine. It felt good sticking out her chest again and again, it felt as though her whole body was getting a workout. She couldn’t help imagine how good it would be to have the perfect tight body with perfect round tits, she found herself getting wet with each shove of her chest. She went into a near trance as she went on and before she knew it she hit 69 thrusts.
She panted in pleasurable exhaustion as she shakily got back to her feet, feeling warm and wet between her legs. She stumbled over to the mirror and gasped loudly at the sight. Her meagre breasts were gone, replaced with impressively big tits.
“No freaking way!” She said as she turned each way to make sure it wasn’t some mirror illusion but there was no denying it, her boobs were bigger.
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She eyed the book out of the corner of her eye, maybe it wasn’t a joke after all, she thought. She looked at her reflection and couldn’t help wonder what she would look like with the long nails, the silky hair, the smooth skin and everything else it purported to be able to give her. She had to know.
An hour and several exercises later, Charlie was looking at a practically different woman in the mirror. Her body wouldn’t have looked out of place on a runaway, there wasn’t an ounce of imperfection anywhere now. She could bend and flex in ways that would make the Hailey the head cheerleader jealous.
A smile started to cross her lips as the idea of making a bitch like Hailey green with envy suddenly made her horny. He mind went to wicked places as she thought about doing more than making her jealous.
She imagined strutting in to school the next day, in a tight shirt outfit, all eyes on her but she would be focused on only one set of eyes. Chad, Hailey’s boyfriend, was a big block headed idiot but did anything Hailey asked. If she could seduce him, she’d have the school in the palm of her hand.
“When I seduce him.” She corrected herself with a smirk, after all no one would be able to resist her looking the way she did now. She’d take Hailey’s friends, her cheerleading position, her power. It would be so easy and fun.
She started to move her fingers down her body towards her increasingly wet pussy when she stopped herself. Something didn’t feel right, why was she thinking such cruel and nasty things?
As if to answer her, a sudden gust of wind started to flicker the pages of the book back to the opening, where ‘Queen of Mean’ was emblazoned in large letters. Charlie drank in the word ‘Queen’ again and again. It seemed to almost put her in a trance as she put her hand into her panties.
As soon as her hand made contact with her soaking wet pussy a sinister grin came across her face.
“Ohhhh fuck yes!!! More, more! I want to be a fucking bitch called Charlotte not some loser nobody called Charlie. Make me a toxic slut, make me a wicked whore, make me the Queen of Mean!” She moaned loudly as she pumped her pussy again and again, her nerdy persona getting weaker each time she did.
The book began to glow bright pink as she continued and Charlotte had an innate knowledge of what it was doing.
“Yesss take my pathetic soul, make me evil and bitchy, I’ll be hot, corrupt and unstoppable!” She moaned thrusting her chest out as if it was being pulled up. She watched in malicious joy as her soul was ripped from her body and sucked into the book. She felt free of morals and doubts as she began to cum harder and longer than ever before.
As the book slammed shut, a surge of dark energy enveloped her newfound form. Her eyes glowed for a moment a deep crimson before settling back into a cold icy blue. A wicked smile curled on her lips as the transformation completed. She reveled in the intoxicating power coursing through her veins, ready to unleash chaos upon the unsuspecting world.
“Bye bye Charlie you fucking dork nobody. No one will miss you and even remember you when I walk into school tomorrow. It’s going to feel so hawt and nasty taking everything Hailey has, in fact why wait until tomorrow.” She said to herself as she picked up her phone and snapped a sexy selfie of herself.
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With an evil grin she started to text Chad: “Hey! I got your number from the school secretary. I’m, like, the new girl in school and she said you would be able to show me around and stuff? It would be totes amazing if we could do something tonight? I’m so alone xxx.” She wrote sending it along with her picture.
She smirked to herself as he quickly replied and made plans to meet up asap. Within the hour she was sucking his dick in the back of his sports car and cementing her hold on him. As soon as she had swallowed his load she dropped her cutesy bimbo act and became more demanding of him. He of course would do anything she asked now.
Now ten days later and Charlotte was the most feared and popular girl in school. Everyone knew her name now and there was no way she would ever fade into the background with her commanding presence and bitchy hot body.
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She didn’t know if she needed to continue doing her stretches and exercises to maintain her evil sexiness but she did them all the same, enjoying the wave of pleasure each would give her. The book seemed to glow happily each time she did as well but she could sense it was growing hungry for more. It had opened one day on a page marked “Beta Bitches”, giving Charlotte the guidance and knowledge with what to do next.
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“Hello girls, welcome to tryouts to be my new friends.” She announced to a group of nerdy girls who had all been lured to Charlotte’s house under the pre-tense that Charlotte would stop bullying them if they did. And for some of them that would soon be true. “You are all pathetic losers right now, adrift, invisible. But after today some of you will be getting a new wonderful purpose; worshipping me. Now do as I do and try and keep up.” Charlotte said to a sea of bewildered faces as she began doing her stretches and one by one they each followed suit.
Charlotte’s book began to glow…
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kettlefire · 1 year
Text
Alfred & the Strange Child
Alfred hadn't intend to ever see the child again. It was meant to be a one and done. He's seen enough runaways in his life time to know they rarely linger in the same place.
Especially the younger they are.
The kid had to be just around ten or twelve. At first glance, many wouldn't think much of him. However, Alfred's had his fair share of encounters with troubled kids.
Especially troubled kids with black hair and blue eyes.
He'd bought him a meal. Something simple. A pre-made salad, a bag of chips, a cookie, and chocolate milk.
Alfred dropped it by the child as he left the grocery store. His own purchases ready for travel. His mind already working through his mental checklist of the day.
He also hadn't intended to stop. A quick hand-off and he should have been on his way.
But the way those wide bright blue eyes stared at him. All the emotions running through him as the child realized what had just transpired.
He couldn't just abandon the child without so much of a smile.
So he didn't. He offered the child his most sincerest smile.
To his surprise, the kid pulled something out the ratty old backbag he had. Held it out for Alfred. Carefully the butler took it, turning it over in his hand.
It was cool to the touch, a soft pastel blue color. Almost transparent if you looked close enough. In the shape of a bat. In the shape of the bat signal.
The kid beamed up at him, seemingly satisified with the trade. Promptly gathered his new things, and left.
Alfred couldn't stop the soft smile from gracing his lips, once he was settled in his car. Eyes trained on the strange, cool, pebble.
He gave it a resting place in his breast pocket, right beside his pocket watch.
A week later, when he went out for a quick errand. He didn't expect to find the same boy sitting on a bench, legs tucked under him.
He especially didn't expect the child to recognize him and grin.
A full, whole-hearted grin.
The way Alfred's heart clenched at the sight, urged him forward. This time, his offering was one of the butter crossiant he had picked up.
In exchange, he recieved a stone in the shape of Nightwing's emblem. The shade of blue just a tad darker than the previous on.
After that, Alfred found himself spotting the little child everywhere he went. A routine was set in place. He'd offer the child a food or beverage, in return he got a new stone to add to his growing collection.
One of these days, he'll remember to exchange names.
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violetlunette · 12 days
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Runaway Chapter 10: Phantom
Summary: After searching for so long Lilia finally finds Silver. But is it too late?
Previous Chapter
Master List
Ao3
Notes: *Twst spoilers for Chapter/Book 7
Lilia continued the search. Yet, while the vines became thicker, there was still no sigh of the rumored specter nor a clue to confirm that his son was here. Lilia was starting to lose hope.
‘Did I choose the wrong place?’ He growled as he clutched the ring around his neck.
“Argh, fuck! Stupid piece of shit!” he cursed, using his other arm to swipe at his tearing eyes. It served Lilia right, though. What was he thinking following a dumb--
“Urk!”
Lilia was nearly choked as the chain suddenly yanked him forward by the throat. He was so surprised that he ended up tripping down the large hill.
“FuuuhhhAhhAhahAhhh!” His cries went up and down as Lilia rolled.
Crash!
WHAM!
Lilia's body hit a large boulder at the bottom of the hill.
Upside down, the world continued to spin around him as the fae's mouth, bones, and muscles all groaned.
“Ughhh! Of course!” it was just Lilia’s luck, wasn’t it? Shit, was all this bad luck that Leprechaun king’s way of getting revenge for tricking him that one time 300 years ago? Cause if so--
Whoooosh~
The area turned gray, layered by a strange mist that slowly filled the air. Around Lilia, the vines began to move like snakes  cricking  and  cracking  as they did so.
“ Ah, ah, ahh, ahhh, ahhhhhhh~... ”
The notes of a song drifted overhead and fell like raindrops. A song that was both strange and familiar...
It tugged at Lilia’s heart, springing tears to his eyes as his breath caught in his throat. Then he remembered.
It was one of the songs he used to hum to Silver when the lad was a baby, to calm him after a terrible nightmare.
A song he nearly had forgotten…
A shadow fell.
Then he saw it.
Lilia’s gaze widened in horror.
“It can’t be…” Above him was a  phantom .
Despite living long, Lilia didn’t have an extensive experience with Phantoms. Though recently they had become more frequent, for a long time, they were rare.
Yet, despite his lack of knowledge, Lilia felt confident in saying that no Phantom was as beautiful as this one.
Its form was that of a Princess in sorrowful blue, floating upon a swirl of black mist. Like all Phantoms, it had an ink bottle for a head. This bottle was in the shape of a heart with a green light glinting off the glass. Atop the odd head, it wore a tarnished crown. It reminded Lilia of the ring that led him here. Yet what gave the Phantom its true beauty was its golden halo of hair. It hung in ringlets around the Phantom’s doll-like frame. Despite the green glow around the specter, it gave off no light, only a nimbus of darkness. 
It sang a haunting tune like an old music box created to lull a child to sleep.
What held Lilia’s attention, however, was the figure she carried between delicate arms.
The man’s mouth fell agape, eyes growing twice their size as his brows pulled inward. His body began to tremble as the cold of winter plunged down his spine.
Through quivering lips, he muttered, “It can’t be... Silver! ”
Ink smeared across skin pale as the grave. The black streamed from closed eyes like tears, making it seem as if he were a boy crying in his sleep. The silver hair, for which he named, lost its moon-like shine and had become a dull gray, frayed like cobwebs. But none of that was what lit the terror that made Lilia’s old muscles turn to stone, nor made his heart stop dead as if shot with a bullet or turn his blood to ice. What did that was the blade. Said blade stabbed through Silver’s heart. The sword also pierced the Phantom, pinning him to its breast. The Phantom stroked the teen’s hair like a child, singing her lullaby. Lilia felt his mouth dry as he whispered, “It can’t be…” He then cartwheeled himself upright, turning as pale as the moon as his irises nearly vanished. His breath began uneven as he began muttering to himself, “No…It can’t…Please, no...” The chant became more and more desperate till it became a prayer. Mentally, he begged his mind to tell him his eyes were playing tricks. That it was all an illusion or a bad dream. Otherwise, the reality would be that his son was dead and that—that thing was cuddling his corpse like a doll. ‘No…’ he told himself. Lilia forced his panic back, and his rational side took over. ‘Silver could still be alive, just under an enchantment. Or could that…’ Could be his Overblot? It was difficult to see as the Phantom and the blade blocked most of his form. Regardless, Lilia knew his first step; freeing Silver from-- The Phantom turned an eyeless gaze upon him. Lilia crouched, clenching his jaw to stop his teeth from chattering from the chill going through his bones. Watching the foe closely, his hand moved to his clever, ready to pull and fight when-- It vanished.
Lilia blinked. He blinked again. Once more to be sure. Then his mouth dropped open.
“Huh? What...no...No!” Confusion turned to horror.
Silver was right there.  He was right there!  Dead or alive, Silver was right there before Lilia! And now he was gone!  Again!
“Silver! Silver!” Lilia ran to the spot where the Phantom had disappeared, swallowed by the mist of the late noon.
“Come on, come on, come on!!” Frustration filled the fae as he clawed through the mist as if the action would reveal his lost son.
Alas...
“Augh!”
The anguished cry tore from his throat as the father fell to his knees.
S L A M !
He pounded a fist into the dry soil as his legs hit the ground. “FUCK!”
As the man's fingers dug into the dirt, a few tear drops escaped his eyes, his body shaking from frustration.
He was so close!  He was so close,  and yet—and yet…
Hick, sob, hick…
Lilia slumped forward, over weighed by grief.
“F--fuck...”
~*~
Once he regained himself, Lilia called Idia. Well, sort of.
He called Sebek, who took the phone to Idia, apparently breaking his door down to do so. The other was not at all pleased.
“Sorry about that!” Lilia apologized, cutting short the complaints. Had he not been so emotionally exhausted, Lilia would have laughed or found some amusement in the situation. “But I had something I really needed to ask.”
Lilia then went on to explain the appearance of the Phantom and its odd actions. Lilia wasn’t familiar with Phantoms, but he knew them to be aggressive. Silver’s Phantom, on the other hand, took one look at him before fleeing.
Idia sighed sadly.
“So, even Silver…” he mumbled. He trailed off before returning to the topic.
“It’s rare, but it’s not, like, unheard of for Phantoms not to attack,” Idia explained. “There are some who are, well, cowards and will choose to run instead. From what we can figure, it depends on how the person who blots over handles stress.
“Like, Riddle has a temper, so when he's pissed, he lashes out at everybody.” Lilia heard the story of Riddle’s blot from Carter and how it acted like a large child throwing a tantrum. Even Malleus’ Phantom had lasted out like a beast in pure rage. But Silver wasn’t like that.
Yes, the teen got mad and upset. He would occasionally yell as well, as rare as it happened. But when he was truly upset to the point his heart broke he ran.
‘Just like when he found out we weren’t related…’ Lilia closed his eyes as he recalled the memory and the child’s broken expression.
“ So… you’re not my father?”  Lilia had been so stunned not by the question but by the torment on Silver’s face as the words were muttered through trembling lips.
Lilia flinched as a metaphorical dagger pierced his soul. That same anguish was on his face in the dream world, his body shaking like it had as a child.
“ Father… I—I…”  Lilia’s heart broke.
‘Oh, Silver…’ After everything that happened, it was no surprise that Silver was distraught to the point where he must have felt like he was drowning. However, it took more than an emotional state to blot everyone over.
The teenager would have had to have used a lot of magic. The broom ride would have been tiring but not enough—
Then Lilia realized; ‘Meet in a Dream.’ Silver Unique magic.
Silver used that spell for who knows how long to save everyone. He also took travelers with him to several dreams. So, even though his body was resting, it must have taken a toll on his mental state and mana. And then with everything he had discovered and gone through…
A knot twisted in his stomach as his chest became heavy.
‘The reason Silver blotted over was…’ Because of him. Because Silver wanted to save everyone from his mistakes--
Lila’s grip shook till he tightened it on his phone.
“Then what about the Phantom in this case?” he asked Idia, keeping his voice firm. “Are you saying it’s not dangerous?” It wasn’t Idia’s voice he heard next.
“Well?! Answer him!”
“Eep! Stop shaking me!” Ah. Lilia forgot Sebek was there. From what he could hear, Sebek had become quite emotional about Silver’s state. Knowing Sebek, Lilia was surprised Sebek held back this long.
“Sebek, control yourself,” Lilia ordered. “Idia; is the Phantom dangerous?” There was an exasperated groan from the other side as Idia attempted to pull himself together.
“Uggghhh...Diasomnia...can’t deal…” He took another moment to compose, but Sebek barked something, and Idia jumped into his answer finally.
“Eep! Kinda?!” He (and Lilia) made Sebek back off before going into more detail. “They’re usually pretty harmless till cornered. Then they lash out like a trapped rat, ya know?” Then the Shroud sighed heavily as if something heavy was dropped on him.“The real issue is that while it's running the life is still being drained from its host.” Lilia’s skin nearly went transparent.
‘ Shit! ’ He forgot that. He forgot that a phantom drained its host of their life force.
Which meant that even if Silver was alive now--
“You mean… Silver’s going to die?” Sebek’s question turned the whole world static. He didn’t even hear Idia’s response.
Die, die, Silver? His Silver? His son? No! No, no, no!
“Hey, Lila? Ortho’s contacted STYX officers. They’re sending over a troop. It would--” Lilia hung up, his heart racing in his ears as he started running.
His jaw clenched as he breathed hard through his nose, his eyes growing wild. He didn’t know what would happen from here on out, but he knew this;
Silver was NOT going to die!
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webxgal · 2 months
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[Ⅳ] mala ipsa nova
bad news itself.
Havoc enters stage right.
The only thing you are able to process is “Oh my god the monorail is moving” and then the sound of static coming from a tiny device clipped on Arisato’s breast pocket. Mitsuru Kirijo’s voice echoes from the nano-radio. If it weren’t for demonic creatures attempting to kill you two minutes ago, the revelation that the student council president is involved would have you floored.
She’s barking out orders to do something, but with all the unfamiliar terminology she’s tossing in, barely anything makes sense to you. To gratify your mind, you try to flip around the possibility this is just a terrible, awful dream. However, the tremor of the monorail under your feet, and the burning, fretful gazes of Takeba and Iori are all too real.
“—You’ll have to stop it, or it’ll crash into the next train!”
You lose focus, almost knocking into Takeba when the train abruptly lurches. She’s quick in steading you upright, but her attention is fixated on Kirijo’s warning.
“Crash!?” She parrots, her voice hitching as she looks wildly at the two boys, one looking equally panicked and the other holding only a mild look of ambivalence. Her nails dig into your arm, that she has forgotten to let go of, and if there weren’t much greater things to worry about then you would have told her it hurts.
“There is a powerful reading coming from the front cart. That must be our target. You’ll have to defeat that to stop the runaway train,” Kirijo’s voice, despite being constrained to a spindly transceiver, is commanding and leaves no room for argument. Target? Defeat? Your eyes coincidentally meet Arisato’s. You aren’t sure what expression you’re wearing on your face, but it’s enough for his jaw to set. He holds your graze and looks as if wanting to say something. However, before the first syllable can leave his lips, the train suddenly sways with breakneck speed and almost sends all of you sprawling like rolling pins in a bowling alley.
Your three classmates seemed to have collected themselves, with Takeba gently prying away your grasp on her blazer that you were still clutching. The look she gives you is a mix of apprehension and pity, and her eyes keep falling to the tremor in your hands.
“It’ll be okay, just stay behind us,” She attempts to reassure you, but you’re already shaking your head.
“I think I should try and hide somewhere,” Your throat feels dry, and the corner of Takeba’s lips curl to a disappointed frown. She looks ready to argue with you, but Arisato has already beaten her to the chase.
“It’s not safe here,” He says simply and you realise this is the first time you’ve heard him speak. His tone did not sway to either impatience or harshness, something oddly soothing in the cadence of his voice, but the curtness of his words felt final. He tilts his head in the direction of the carriage door, with Takeba and (a seemingly dejected) Iori following after his cue. You had no choice but to chase after the disappearing backs of the trio, the lanyard of your camera feeling like a noose around your neck.
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The sight is both morbid and breathtaking, and you feel like an idiot standing squarely as you take in the sheer enormity of the monster in front of you. It sits on the floor, legs positioned awkwardly as it takes up almost half the carriage’s size. It brandishes itself as naked as the day it was born, with only raggedy remains of a dress covering its bottom half. It’s horrifying, and it has the exact eldritch ambience to it that you wish you could capture into your camera film. Iori mistakes your gaping silence as terror, quick in telling you that he’ll keep you safe (and promptly shuts up when Takeba sends a scathing glare from the corner of her eye).
The trio move almost instantaneously after that, and you watch as they point their guns to their temples. Your eyes close instinctively when they pull their triggers, but you're immediately distracted by the manifestation of the creatures behind them. They have pretty much formed a shield around you, keeping you at length away from the monster crouched ahead. You feel delirious, watching them attack and fight, unsure of what is even real anymore. It scares you, exhilarates you, and most of all makes you wish it all ended so you had at least five minutes to just think without all the adrenaline and overwhelming anxiety choking you. The monorail briskly picks up speed, and your heart lurches when you remember Kirijo’s warning of an incoming train. All of you were on a ride straight to your graves, and all you could do was stand with shaking legs and a throbbing head.
Suddenly, someone screams your name and you barely have time to even turn your head before the air leaves your lungs all at once. You’re thrown across the compartment, your back hitting the metal door dividing the carriages. Your spine feels as if it’s split into two, and you instinctively let out an animalistic cry in pain, a sound you otherwise wouldn’t have believed came from you. Your body pulses in white hot flashes, and you heave to catch your breath labourously. You lay motionless and slumped against the door, barely able to digest the fact that the broken shards of plastic and glass that are scattered around you were once your precious camera.
You don’t notice how the trio’s attacks have become more frantic, or how the monorail begins to slow to a screeching stop. All of a sudden, there is someone’s hands holding you, Takeba’s tribulated face coming into your view. You can hear the familiar raucous of Iori’s voice, shooting questions at you as it begins to mingle with Takeba’s own exclamations of concern. Spots of colour dance in the corner of your vision, and all you’re able to process is the fact that you’re leaning on someone’s side and that they are warm.
You unwittingly close your eyes.
43 notes · View notes
prolix-yuy · 8 months
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Chapter 7: You Saw Me for How I Really Was
Pairing: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x F!Reader “Sugar”
Summary: It's everything you ever wanted but wouldn't wish for.
Word Count: 5k
Warnings: Explicit 18+ MINORS DNI, descriptions of male and female bodies, breast play, grinding, oral sex (f and m receiving), rimming (f receiving), fingering, squirting, dirty talk, unprotected PiV sex (don't be a fool, wrap your tool, even if you're an android and can't get people pregnant).
Notes: IT'S TIME. Jack and Sugar finally deserve to get exactly what they want. And with one chapter left plus an epilogue, they've got just enough time to enjoy themselves. I kept pushing out the smut because they had so much to talk about, but we know they were gonna fall back into bed eventually. Enjoy!
Cross-posted on AO3
Decoherence Masterlist   ||   Whiskey & Westworld Masterlist
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Returning to Jack’s ranch is comfortably quiet, the kiss still tingling on your lips as Jack and Jet keep pace with you and Daybreak. The sun is beginning to drift toward the horizon, and your stomach is growling even as you beg it to quiet down. Jack’s knowing smile heats your cheeks as you clop into the stables, beginning the ingrained process of stabling the horses. Each pass of the brushes and combs brings you closer to Jack’s hands, his embrace, his body close to yours again. The anticipation finally feels like excitement for the first time since you arrived, heart fluttering when he catches your eye or you glimpse a sliver of his profile. Strong arms massaging Jet’s shoulders, lifting the saddle and pulling the gate shut. The sway of his trim hips sauntering over to you. His worn fingers threading between yours as he leads you to the house hand in hand. 
“So I was thinking I’d make some dinner for us, if you’d like to stay,” Jack says cautiously, his touch delicate. You hadn’t even been considering going back to the bed and breakfast, but Jack’s deference to your comfort glows in your chest.
“Yeah, I’d like to stay,” you answer, and the crinkle of his eyes paired with him fighting back a smile urges you to walk closer. Shoulder to shoulder, you enter his home. Russell bounces at your heels as Jack leads you back to the kitchen where you bared your souls. “Can I help with the cooking?” 
Jack opens the fridge, taking out some ingredients. “I suppose if I say no I’ll catch you doing it anyway?” You give him a wink that makes you feel like a teenager, giddy at the faux sigh and head shake he returns. “Fine, I’m putting you in charge of vegetables and nothing else or Russ will give me hell for making the lady work.” Russell yips in agreement.
Jack fires up the grill outside the back door, leaving you to slice tomatoes and lettuce as Russell supervises. You toss him a bit of scrap, which he spits back out and looks forlorn over. Trading it for a piece of cheese gets you back in his good graces. The mouthwatering aroma of meat cooking pulls you to the open door, Russell joining his guardian in front of the grill.
Would you ever tire of ogling this man? He’s tied a blue apron over his button-up, a spatula in hand. The golden light accentuates his coffee eyes, the shine of his dark hair, the concentration in his brow as he flips burgers. When he shifts on his feet he pops one hip out, rounding his tiny bottom just a little more in his jeans. If hunger wasn’t so pressing you’d tear the apron off him and sink to your knees. Or wrap your arms around him while diving a hand into his pants. Maybe bend over to expose your aching…
You shake away the runaway train of your libido, awake and screaming after such a long hibernation. Everything is still so fragile, your steps mincing up to what that kiss lead to after the meal concludes.
The burgers are consumed messily and jubilantly at the kitchen table, juice dripping down your fingers and the delightful grease cut through with sharp pickle brine and cold iced tea. Russell gets his own smaller patty, clearly spoiled rotten by Jack with the way he prances for it. Jack’s eyes meet yours between the quips and banter that flows easily, his eyes still hungry in a way no meal will sate. When he slips his fingers into his mouth to lick up errant juices, you forcibly drag your gaze down. 
With dinner finished, Jack waves you off from dish duty. 
“Go take a look around, my hospitality will not allow you to also clean up.” 
Rolling your eyes you do as you’re told, touring his modest ranch with meandering steps. On closer inspection you find new delights amongst his possessions. A modern music player, a quick browse through revealing a lot of Hank Williams and George Strait. Repair manuals for what seem to be large harvesters, dog-eared and well read. A distinct lack of photos. 
Venturing further into the house, you find a neat guest bath and an open door leading to an office. A second door is shut, and your instinct tells you it’s the bedroom. While you could be bold and enter, you turn and head back to the kitchen. The water turns off, and as you round the corner back to the hallway you see it.
The third door.
It wouldn’t have stood out to you, tucked away past the bedrooms, except for the massive padlock keeping it shut. It shouldn’t bother you - Jack is allowed secrets, especially after all you know of him - but this piques your curiosity enough to step closer. From a distance you think it takes a key, but upon closer inspection you discover a subtle biometric scanner.
“Thought you might find that,” Jack says behind your shoulder, startling you about six feet out of your skin.
“I wasn’t…” you start to protest, but Jack just rubs your arm and reaches past. A press of his thumb and the lock opens, Jack making quick work of removing it and opening the door. 
“I don’t have any secrets with you, Sugar,” he says, taking your hand. His are softer now, warm from the dishwater. “If you want to know what’s in the basement, I’ll take you.”
“What is it?” you ask, clasping Jack’s hand tighter. It’s remarkable how perfectly it fits in yours. How long you’ve waited to hold it.
“Something that took a long time to put together.”
Jack leads you down into the basement, another door with another lock at the bottom. This one has a retinal scanner, hissing open when pushed. The light is cool blue, starkly different from the warm sunlight waiting for you upstairs. Your stomach twists with nerves, but you still follow. 
A few steps inside the basement reveals white tile walls and a smooth concrete floor. In the center of the room is a box, a large rectangle with a hinge on the side. You try not to compare it to a coffin. Against the wall are computer screens, silver canisters, what looks like a 3D printer encased in glass. The only noise is the constant quiet hiss of atmosphere controls and the shuffle of Jack’s feet. You tuck into your body as if your presence could jeopardize the room. He leans on one leg and chews his lower lip before speaking.
“When I left, I had a few things with me. Field repair kit, basically. But if I wanted to stay here on my own, I needed more. After I bought the place and got this room ready, I…well, you’d probably call it ‘hacking,’ but I used the mesh network to poke around in Delos’ shipping sector. Make a few crates go missing, delivered to a desert two states over. Some things didn’t make it, so I have to be careful, but all this…” He gestures to the room around you. “This is what I’m made of.”
You slowly pace the room, silently taking in the scene that’s more like the world you came from. Sterile, cool, emotionless technology. When you get close to the wall-mounted screens they hum to life, and one by one glowing cobalt text fills your vision. Progress meters, percentages ticking up and down. Lines of code that don’t make sense, but when the central screen displays a Vitruvian-esque man’s outline, it becomes clear.
“This is you,” whispers out from your slack lips, roaming over the subtly moving parts that make up the whole of Jack’s being. His heart monitor is thumping hard, vibrant red amongst the rest of his anatomy. 
“Yeah, this is all of it. All of me.” Jack stops, though you can feel the weight of the words he doesn’t say.
You can have it.
Turning back to face him, his eyes are pleading for you to understand, to not be terrified by the underground world that keeps him here with you. But instead of the manic need to run, peace finally winds through your chest like a lazy stream. You smile, and Jack’s relief brings him closer step by step.
“You did this all by yourself,” you say, both of Jack’s hands stroking up your arms as he steps into your orbit.
“It was worth it,” he murmurs, thumb worrying at your sleeve. It aches, knowing how alone you both were, knowing that he waited so long with all these feelings still burning in the heart you can so easily see on that screen.
“I’m sorry, I’ve spent the last two days interrogating you,” you laugh, smoothing your hand over his chest. Solid muscle warms your palm, his proximity tingling down your spine. “You said you had questions for me too, but I don’t think I’ve answered any of them. You deserve some answers too.”
Jack chuckles, pressing one hand to your lower back and surrounding you once again.
“Only what you’re willing to share with me, Sugar,” he says, and fuck, he means it. He’s given you every secret but he’d let you keep yours.
“Anything, Jack.”
He sucks in a breath, tongue swiftly wetting his lower lip.
“You never married him?”
“No.”
“Never found someone else?”
You’d never even considered finding someone during that year.
“No.”
“You were happy?”
Your breath hitches, Jack’s hands soothing up your back.
“I was happier, yeah. I told myself it would only get better, but…I was also lonely.”
Jack nods. “Me too.”
He struggles then, jaw working and false starting a couple times before he finally asks.
“Why did you show me the photograph?”
The maelstrom of emotions that hits you wells in your eyes. He’s holding you so close to how he did that day, albeit in a room that pales his skin and deepens his eye sockets. It’s your turn to struggle now, throat clenching.
“I thought you were going to tell me you loved me,” you half-sob, taking in a shaky breath as his eyebrows raise. “I thought it was part of the park, and it would have killed me to hear you say it when I felt…” 
Jack cups your cheek, letting you lean into the touch.
“I was gonna tell you it was real, Sugar. That I wasn’t sure what the hell was happening, but I was no longer a host and this place was no longer my home. I guess it’s good I didn’t, would’ve scared you right off.” You share a wet chuckle as your tears subside, letting Jack’s body soothe you. 
“But…” he interjects, eyes lifting back to his face. “If you had accepted that, somehow, crazy as it would have been, I would have also told you that I loved you.” 
Your mouth drops open, wonder spreading down your shoulders. 
“Because I loved you from my first breath as Jack. I’ve loved you every day since. Not because of Maeve, or Delos. I love you, and none of it is programming.”
For a long moment you just look at each other in awe before Jack’s face closes off sharply, tucking his chin down.
“I don’t expect anything, this has all been a lot…”
“I love you too.”
Jack’s eyes dart back to your face, his own stunned expression painting his gorgeous profile. 
“You don’t…”
But you wind your arms around his neck and let the peace melting through your body pass on to his. It’s as easy as breathing, as a kiss, as letting yourself stop running from the happiest you’ve ever been.
“I’ll say it. Every day. I love you, Jack.” 
Then you weave your fingers into his hair and ease his lips to yours. The kiss starts soft, Jack’s movements sluggish as he pulls you into his body. Then he takes in a sharp breath and devours you, teeth hard against your lips and tongue darting into your mouth to taste everything you’ll give him. His embrace is close to bruising, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he doesn’t press every inch of your body into his. Your knees buckle briefly, which urges him to finally break the kiss and pant against your cheek.
“Sugar, I want to take you to bed and make love to you as many times as you’ll let me,” he growls in your ear, arousal nearly unbearable in your core.
“I hope you’ve got stamina enough for that, cowboy,” you shoot back, meaning it to be a sexy tease but more of it coming out as a breathless quip. He nips at your lower lip before untangling and leading you by the hand up and out of the basement. At the slam of the top door Russell bounds out of the living room, tail wagging and eyes bright. Jack curses quietly under his breath while kneeling to grab something out of a box under a sideboard. 
“Russell, man to man, do not come scratching for at least four hours,” he says sternly before presenting the pup with a handsomely large bone. He takes it and skips off to the living room. 
“Bribery, huh?” you tease as he lifts to his full height, but before you can say anything else his mouth is on yours and he’s backing you up against the closed bedroom door. 
“Darlin’, I would let the horses in the house to get you all to myself,” he says against your smile, fiddling with the knob to back you into his bedroom. The door shuts quickly behind to prevent an audience.
You barely get a chance to look at the room - two dressers, lamps, door to an ensuite bathroom - before Jack leads you backwards until your calves bump the bed. He’s dancing his lips over your neck, hands kneading at your hips.
“Tell me you want this, sweetheart,” he begs prettily, and your eyes roll up as he sucks a mark above your collarbone. Every part of you burns for him, clutching at his shirt, his shoulders, the soft strands of his hair. 
“Yes, Jack, please. I want you,” you husk, and he sighs into your skin. Thick fingers work under your top, sliding his hands up your sides and bringing the cloth with it. He tosses it on the floor somewhere behind him, wide palms supporting your back as he leans down to lick along the cup of your bra. The cool kiss of air on the wet trail pebbles your nipples.
“God, you taste good Sugar,” Jack moans while sucking another kiss into your shoulder. Your fingers find his buttons, sliding them out one by one to expose the smooth breadth of Jack’s chest. He blazes under your knuckles, muscles clenching as you ride the hills and valleys of his body to tug his shirttails out. 
“I recall you said I was the sweetest thing you ever tasted,” you tease, sliding your hand down to palm his cock through his straining jeans. He’s bigger than you remember, which was not insignificant. He’ll have to take his time, get you ready for him. Your cunt clenches at the thought.
“Damn right. I can’t wait to taste every part of you, sweetheart.” Jack tucks a knee between your thighs and wraps an arm around your waist. You’re suddenly off-balance as he leans you back, kneeling as he lays you out on the bed. His thick thigh remains between your legs, and you grind on it wantonly. “God, look at you, needy pussy on my thigh. Go ahead, baby, get yourself hot and ready.” He shucks off his shirt as you roll your hips up his thigh, denim catching on your clit and wedging your underwear between your slick folds. It’s tantalizing, Jack’s hands coming down to thumb open your pants button and slide down your zip. Gripping your hips, he guides you against him, lips parted and panting as his hair falls in his eyes.
“Beautiful, you’re so goddamn beautiful,” he praises before pulling back. You whine at the loss while lifting your hips to let him peel off your pants, underwear going with them to leave you in just your bra on the thick quilt below. Jack returns to lean over you, stealing another toe-curling kiss while he thumbs your nipples.
“Can I taste you, Sugar? Get you cumming around my tongue?” 
“Fuck, oh fuck, Jack, please.”
Hooking his arms under your knees, he slides you up the bed before dropping to his elbows, pressing a kiss to the top of your mound. Every anxiety has fled, leaving only a crackling need as he drags his nose up your inner thigh, a light lick up your slit barely parting your lips. Thighs trembling, you try rocking your hips against his tongue but he presses you back into the bed, following his own path as he meanders up and down your thighs. You hope he can see your pussy fluttering, how much arousal is gathering from his light touches. Finally he pulls your lips open with his thumbs and licks a wet stripe over your clit.
Your reaction is instant. Back bowing off the bed, thighs clenching over his shoulders, fingers twisting the quilt. Jack’s eyes rake up your body, a self-satisfied chuckle vibrating against your clit begging for more more more.
“You’ve waited so long for this, sweetheart. I’m going to make it worth it,” he promises before sliding his tongue back into your pussy. Undulating it against your needy clit tears a gasp from your throat, whines held behind your teeth. Jack’s hands splay over your thighs, digging in to keep you open and flush against his greedy mouth. Every lap of his tongue is wet, filthy, indulgent. You struggle for coherence, babbles of “so good” and “please, Jack” and “fuck fuck fuuuuuuck” all you can manage. Jack doesn’t seem to mind, mouth too busy to keep up a conversation. Instead he seals his lips around your clit and rhythmically sucks while teasing a finger at your entrance. The pressure, the pattern of his lips pulling you to the precipice of your orgasm, drives your fingers into his hair to pull him against your cunt. 
“Good fucking girl,” he growls, teeth grazing your clit before he flicks his tongue and buries one long finger inside you. The glint of hunger in his eyes explodes in your spine as you shatter on the rocks of your pleasure. Even as you buck against him he rides you to the end, draining every last drop of your orgasm onto his tongue. Spots dance in your vision, jellied bones leaving you helpless on your back as you try to catch your breath.
Just as you’re about to sit up and reach for him, another finger slides into your tight cunt and Jack blows a cool kiss of air against your sensitive clit. You shoot up with a strangled gasp, pulling Jack’s face back. His eyes are hazy pools, lips and mustache wet with you. A filthy smile dances on his lips, baring his long neck and scraping his teeth along your inner thigh.
“I’m not done here just yet,” he purrs, guiding your hand out of his hair and against his mouth. Pressing a kiss to your palm, he weaves your fingers between his and dips his face back to lap at your folds, curling into something devastating inside you.
“Fuck, Jack, I can’t…” you groan, but he shakes his head, bristly mustache scraping over your sex as he chuckles.
“Yes you can, Sugar, and you will,” he promises darkly, and before you can protest he’s rolling you onto your stomach and lifting your hips. Your cunt gapes at the loss, but he quickly slides his fingers back. His wandering lips graze along your ass before flitting his tongue against your other hole. You jerk, a sudden wave of shameful arousal both backing you up against him and jerking away. He bands his arm around your thighs and spits, the hot saliva sliding down to wet his knuckles. “I want to have you every way I can, sweetheart. Make you feel pleasure you’ve never felt before. I want to make you cum from things you never imagined.” With that he firmly licks over your asshole, long heavy strokes that match the pace of his fingers inside you. 
The oversensitivity passes until you’re aching, full of him and dripping over his hand. His appetite makes your face burn, but it feels too good to stop. Snaking a hand down, you swirl over your clit and stroke Jack’s strong fingers inside you.
“Oh fuck Sugar, is that you? You’re touching yourself? Don’t stop beautiful, I’m gonna have you wailing for me soon.” The intense stretch of his third finger sliding in stutters your hand, planting both on the bed so you can push back against his overwhelming devotions. He snarls, pounding his fingers into you and swatting at your jiggling ass.
“That’s it, baby, you get ready for my cock. I can’t wait to feel this perfect pussy around me. C’mon, that’s it, that’s my gorgeous girl.” Your eyes shut, body lost to Jack all around you as he curls and drags his fingertips against a spot inside that threatens to overtake you. With a yank your feet touch the floor, bent over the bed with Jack folded over you, pressing into that spot over and over again.
“Give it to me, Sugar, I want you all over me,” he whispers, and your mind barely grasps what he means before your orgasm grips you hard and unforgiving, gasping and wailing as wetness drips down your legs. Jack tucks you against his hot skin, cupping your mound and pressing his cock against your ass as he talks you through it, “Gorgeous girl covering me in your cum, you’re so fucking hot, so pretty cumming for me. Does that feel good? Breathe baby, you did so good, you came so good for me.”
“Jack, holy shit,” you finally manage to squeak out. He backs up from you, wiping fabric down your legs and briefly over your sensitive core before letting you sit on the bed.
What you turn to see almost knocks you out for a whole different reason. Jack stands with one hip cocked, his heather gray button-up damp with your release. It’s not the only thing soaked; his jeans, open and slung low on his hips, are dark with liquid, droplets clinging to the curls of his pubic hair. You can just barely peek the head of his cock breaching the vee of his zipper, face flushed a boyish pink as he cards his fingers through his mussed hair. 
“Oh my god, you’re…I did…” you stammer, heat blazing in your cheeks. Jack laughs, tossing his shirt to the side and running his fingers over his stomach. The shine of wetness comes away on his fingers, and he licks them delicately. You’re sure you’ll ignite any second, but he only hums in appreciation.
“Just like all of you, Sugar, oh so sweet,” he drawls. “Give me two minutes to brush my teeth and think about baseball and I’ll be back,” he adds, swaggering into the ensuite. You bury your hands in your face and take a few breaths, but they’re mostly to bring you back from your out of body experience. Realizing your bra is still on, you quickly unclasp and toss it with the other clothing, climbing up the bed and kneeling. From here you can see Jack’s back ripple as he leans down to rinse his mouth, the warmth in his eyes when he catches you in the mirror. Turning he leans in the doorframe, looking you up and down shamelessly.
“Never seen anything more gorgeous in my entire life,” he says, hooking his thumbs in his belt loops and tugging his jeans down. Stepping out of them, he comes to the side of the bed and strokes up your thigh to your lower back, tugging you close to kiss you. His mouth is cool and minty, a balm to your overheated skin, as he cups your head and lets your tongues touch in playful sweeps. Skin against skin makes you melt into Jack’s body, breasts pressed against his chest while he strokes over the span of your shoulders, the curve of your back, squeezing your perfect ass. 
Breaking the kiss, you brush your noses together.
“I’d like to ride you, cowboy,” you ask, his cheeks flushing as you nip at his chin. He chases your mouth for another kiss, letting you pull his tongue between your teeth with a stifled groan.
“I’d like that, Sugar, love to watch you on my lap,” he husks into your ear, climbing into the bed beside you. He arranges himself, propped up in the pillows and lightly stroking his cock from base to tip. Kneeling next to him, you place a kiss on his shoulder, the center of his peck, the soft rounding of his belly. His fingers still at the base as you lean over and lick the head of his cock, the musky taste making you salivate. With no warning you wrap your lips around the head, his moan spiking arousal in your cunt. You slide down his shaft, swiping your tongue along the underside and flicking around the ridge. Jack’s thighs clench, choked-back curses sizzling off your back. It isn’t until you slide to the base, relaxing your jaw and tracing the tip of your tongue along his fingers that Jack urges you off him. He replaces his cock with his lips, ravenous as your teeth clack and he pulls you onto his lap.
“Almost blew it before getting inside you, baby, you’re too good at that,” he gasps, slowing down to rest his forehead on your shoulder.
“Need me to slow down?” you ask, his head shaking in response. You stroke your fingers through his hair, pressing your cheek against his head as he wraps his arms around you. His cock slips through your folds as you rock against him, tilting your hips to catch him just at your entrance. You hold his head between your hands and pull him back enough to watch as you take just his head inside. His eyes roll back, threaten to close but he forces them open, mesmerized by the way your chest heaves, lips parted, eyes hooded as you work his cock inside you. When you throw your head back he fits his lips against your neck, leaving wet trails as he takes your nipple into his mouth. The zing of pleasure from his flicking tongue, the other nipple rolled between his fingers, urges you to sink down to the base. He releases your breast with a pop, foreheads coming together as you sit full of him. 
“Jack,” you finally say breathlessly. He hums, turning his head up to drag his lips along your jaw. “Probably a bad time to ask, but…you can’t get me pregnant, right?”
Jack snorts into the junction of your shoulder, nails scratching lightly down your back.
“Very insightful. No, I am proverbially shooting blanks.”
You let the amusement of the moment simmer down, his tongue tracing shapes below your ear, before speaking again.
“Then I want you to cum in me, Jack. I want to feel you inside me.”
Jack’s grip tightens, his thighs clenching underneath you. 
“Fuck, Sugar, I want that. Want to fill you with my seed, watch it drip out of you.” You lift up on your knees, his cock sliding through your tight pussy, before sinking back down firmly.
“Fill me up, Jack.”
Jack’s pained groan spurs you to ride him properly, your hands braced on the headboard behind him. He looks up at you like a deity, worshiping you with his work-worn hands. His thighs are slick with your arousal and sweat, making the glide even more sensual. You roll your hips to feel every ridge and vein of him inside, helpless whines slipping out when he circles your clit just right or scrapes his teeth along your nipples. 
“Darlin’, you tell me when you’re close and I’ll get you over the edge. I want to be the one making you cum, sweetheart, please let me make you cum,” he begs into your shoulder. You weren’t even sure if you had a third one in you, but every slip of his lips on your skin makes electricity crackle inside. 
“I’m close, Jack, I want you, I want you,” you babble. Jack tilts you forward, planting his feet and fucking up into you from below. He pulls you down against the force of his thrusts, the sticky slap pulling one long moan from your lips. It’s right there, just out of reach, when Jack flips you to your back, yanking your legs over his shoulders. Your eyes widen, fisting the blanket around your head, but then Jack presses your thighs to your stomach and mounts you, drilling down and…
“Oh fuck, Jack, fuck, right there, rightthererightthereright…” Your begging is lost to the scream you barely recognize as your own as Jack fucks an orgasm into your cunt, teeth gritted and lip snarled as he harshly pants above you. Your pussy clamps down and he follows with a bellow, watching where you’re connected. You swear you can feel his cum inside, marking you in a way no man has ever done before. A primal voice roars mine and his in one sound, and your eyes must be as wild as his are because when they meet he’s crushing his mouth to yours, roughly licking in and swallowing down your weak pants. By the end he’s whimpering into your mouth, softening inside but loathe to move from the tangle of limbs. His arms surround your head, stroking at your cheeks as he watches you closely. Yours are too weak to lift yet, but you let one drape over his back. Fingers trace delicate patterns on his sweat-slick skin. 
“Is it okay if I say it again?” Jack asks. You hum curiously, his body settling into yours. 
“I love you,” he murmurs, eyes darting away shyly as his thumb strokes the corner of your lips. You smile wider, a feedback loop of happiness.
“I love you too, Jack.”
And in that moment, that’s all either of you need.
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mindofharry · 2 years
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Hey! Here’s a Conrad Fisher request. Reader is sneaking out of Conrad’s room and gets caught by Jeremiah or Steven or someone.
“I have to go,” You pouted, as Conrad wrapped his arms around your waist. If you could, you’d stay here forever. But your mom is expecting you home at 11 sharp and she’s pretty strict, so you really don’t want to get into trouble with her.
“I’ll take the fall for it, just one more cuddle,” Conrad grumbled, moving his body over yours so his head was on your breasts. You giggled and placed a hand in his wavy hair. You ran your fingers through the strands and sighed.
“I wish we can stay like this forever,” You said and Conrad hummed, pecking your neck.
“Let’s runaway,” Conrad said nonchalantly. You smacked his shoulder and then rolled out from underneath him, sitting on the edge of the bed to pull your shorts back on. You looked back at the brown haired boy and his head was resting on his hand as he lay sideways just admiring the view.
“See you tomorrow?” You asked leaning over to kiss him goodbye. Conrad pecked your lips and nodded, taking your hand and squeezing it.
After that, you picked up your shoes and then tip toed out of his room. Just as you were about you close conrad’s door someone cleared their throat.
You winced and then turned around slowly to see Jeremiah looking at you with a raised eyebrow and now a nearly melted ice cream in his hand.
“I’ll pick up your early shifts if you don’t tell anyone,”
Jeremiah smirked, “Deal,”
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dimbulb0 · 2 years
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To say that Nicole was happy about her growth was an understatement. She was ecstatic to the point of orgasm, which only seemed to further fuel her runaway expansion. Her swelling breasts had almost torn her shirt completely off, and she could feel the stitching on her skirt strain and shift as she began to grow taller, too. Her coworkers could only stare in shock and confusion at the curvy growing blonde. "What the hell is happening?!" one of her coworkers shouted. “This is impossible!" “I don't know," Nicole said, cooing as more stitches popped and grinning from ear-to-ear. "But I'm going to enjoy every second." It was certainly a lot of seconds for Nicole. She stretched and grew larger by the minute, her breasts swaying with each breath she took. The fabric of her clothes strained against her body and finally ripped, revealing her voluptuous chest to everyone around her. Her skirt soon followed suit, and then her underwear. A few people gasped when they saw her naked pussy peeking out from between her fat thighs, but Nicole didn't care about modesty anymore. All that mattered now was how much she could grow before someone stopped this unstoppable force.
*****
Image made with NovelAI. Prompt: A giantess growing taller and bigger, curvy, happy, torn clothes, blonde, tall, filling the office, crawling, huge, head hitting ceiling, destroyed furniture, busting out, blouse
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wri0thesley · 2 years
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thinking about repressed victorian gentleman diluc: vampire edition. so polite, but withdrawn, until fate leaves you in the winery manor; a runaway from cruel parents trying to marry you off, perhaps, in a torn and ripped gown from the whispering woods and hair leaving you soaking wet, begging shelter from adelinde. the reclusive owner of dawn winery, the monstadtian tycoon, is not known for his warmth (they say he was, once, but . . .), but you are desperate.
and adelinde cannot help but feel sorry for you. offer you a night in the kitchens, warmed by the fire - a shift from the maid’s laundry, whilst your gown is drying out. the master is currently away on business, she says, as she warns you not to wander, but perhaps you hear the lonely sound of a piano in the night and the house seems so empty, how can you resist when the music is so beautifully haunting. 
only to run into diluc. only for him to be entranced by you. only for him to discover your secret and insist a young person from a well-to-do family such as you, a guest in his home, must be better cared for. only for you to realise you never see him in the daylight, that he only drinks blood-red fruit juice at dinner times and eats nothing (not wine, he tells you, with a wry smile). only for you to find adelinde washing one of his shirts free of bloodstains.
diluc tries to hold himself back, of course. he shudders when his hand brushes yours. but he can’t stop himself staring at your fluttering pulse in a low-cut gown, imagine kissing across it before biting down. cannot help but notice the line of your wrist, when he kisses your hand. cannot help but stare at the curve of your breast where it is squeezed and prominent by your corset and long to sink fangs into it and feel your heartbeat pump lifeblood into him. your scent is like everything he has ever wished for. he needs you, he needs you, he wants you. your touch haunts him, when it does occur - makes him stutter, makes him gasp in a way made all the more noticeable by the fact that ordinarily he does not need to draw breath. he wants to lean into your touch and beg you to run fingers through his hair, cup his cheeks, tell him that he is more than the dark gift that flows through his veins instead of the sweet nectar that flows in yours. oh, how he wants. 
but. he has seen so many people die. your life is a petal in the wind fated to blow into fire and be smoked to ashes before he is even considered more than a fledgling. he cannot. so instead . . . he pines, circumstance having put you within his grasp and yet so far away. when a fatui agent he comes across in nightly hunts looks a little too much like you, what savage pleasure he takes in drinking them up. how he hates himself. and . . . through it all, how sweet your smile is, how much you get to know him, what affection (and dare you say adoration, fondness, love) - and all for a monster who does not deserve it.
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The air in the sauna made Nadine gasp. It felt wrong. It felt like she wasn't really breathing.
Chloe, unfazed, shut the wooden door with its tiny window and sat down on the slatted wooden seats, and Nadine tried to settle in across from her. She watched Chloe pushing her wet black hair behind one shoulder, hotel towel barely covering her breasts. Was there even enough oxygen in this hot elevator-sized crypt for both of them?
"China? Y'alright?"
Nadine bit her lip and shook her head, closing her eyes.
The panic rising in her stomach was irrational. She knew that. War memories rising unbidden, or maybe she just had a new phobia after the past couple of adventures with this battleaxe or the Drake idiots. Maybe it was of the combination of fire and water and being trapped.
Still, the dark, cramped wooden cube was supposed to be relaxing. Chloe was clearly enjoying it. She almost looked to be dozing off, a safe practice in the devil's hotbox for sure.
Nadine gripped her knees. She was starting to shake. Not from cold, obviously. It felt...more involuntary. Like muscle twitches. Her heart was pounding.
Someone could lock us in here. Cook us like lobsters. I don't have my gun with me. Frazer doesn't even have her stupid phone.
"Wait," Nadine burst out.
Chloe looked up at her, about to ladle water onto the heated rocks.
"You really think it's not hot enough in here?" the ex-mercenary said.
"You're the one that's shaking, mate."
Because this is what my version of hell feels like.
"How long's it been?" Chloe was smirking at her now. "Don't tell me you've never been in one before."
"Ja, I haven't missed much."
"Sauna virgin."
"I'm going to kill you in your sleep," Nadine's face was on fire.
"Even Sam's been in a sauna before."
"Did they have to demolish it afterward to get rid of the smell?"
Nadine could just go, walk out, leave the Aussie idiot to turn into biltong in here if she wanted. Chloe's goading shouldn't have an effect on her when she'd put up with so much in her life. Instead, the shaking was getting worse, and she knew she wasn't hiding it by re-wrapping the towel around her upper half. Nadine wasn't even the type to be self-conscious about nudity, but Chloe was obviously staring.
This was the Finns' fault. This was geometry and fluid dynamics's fault. This was Chloe's stupid rewards points getting them a cut-price deal on this campy spa instead of a reasonable business hotel's fault. Nadine should be upstairs in her pajamas watching the Premier League and pretending not to Facebook stalk Lesedi on her phone. Apparently relaxation was not supposed to be fun.
"All right, ready for the ice dip?" Chloe said into the boiling silence.
"What?"
Nadine was so overjoyed at seeing the door open again, a strip of light cutting the penance benches, that she wasn't prepared when Chloe grabbed an armful of ice from the trough (Nadine had assumed it was for champagne bottles that would be brought later) beside the evil room and threw it over herself.
"Bracing!"
This couldn't be how it was done. This had to be a prank. The line between luxury spa treatment and interrogation-room torture method seemed very thin at the moment to Nadine.
"You won't even feel cold after the first minute, china. Try it."
"I'm going to be honest," Nadine said as the treasure hunter continued rubbing ice on her sweat-beaded body. "I think I'd rather die."
And yet. Nadine did not know what possessed her to reach over and grasp a handful of the ice--it seemed to steam and stick to her wet fingers--and then brush it over her shoulder and chest, where her heart was still quaking.
The shudder that went through her was, yes, bracing. Nadine wouldn't call it nice. Or even tolerable. But it made her take a full, deep breath for the first time in what felt like forever.
Climbing to absurd heights and balancing across precipices. Catching runaway trains. She needed to stop letting Chloe rope her into this death wish crap.
Chloe was rubbing the ice on her face now, in large circles, like it was some sort of influencer anti-aging trick. "You weren't happy in there. You should have said something."
Nadine sputtered, "And--and listen to your--"
"My what?"
"Your bullshit," Nadine gritted her teeth. "All of your bullshit, Frazer, always."
"You listen to it anyway. God, it was hard watching you?" She turned to Nadine. "What sort of place is this for bottling all that up?"
Nadine couldn't say anything to that. Couldn't even hold Chloe's television-static eyes.
Because it used to work. For almost her whole family it had worked. And other skills, softer skills, non-close-quarters-combat skills that she was sure she had down were atrophied now.
"I thought everyone hated being in there," Nadine stammered. "I didn't think--people actually liked that."
Chloe didn't have to burst out laughing.
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Kinktober Day 9: Masturbation with Hongjoong
Trigger warnings: none?
Content warnings: toys and bad attitudes (read: mc’s a little bratty and hongjoong doesn’t like that), hongjoong goes all doting boyfriend at the end
Summary: Your fuck buddy wants you to put on a show for him.
Word count: 1851
Tags: @hyuckilstan @mork-ly @wubbster @critssq @skzgallll
Kinktober master list
Smut below the cut
“What do you think?”
“I think it’s a little unfair.” You pouted. “If I’m calling up a fuck buddy it’s cause I need to get railed, not cause I want an audience while I masturbate.”
He listened to you in silence for a few seconds until you started to crumble and finally gave a blasé response. “If you wanna get fucked into the mattress tonight, this is the prerequisite.”
You wanted to be mad, you really did, but it was impossible. So you let out a sigh and crossed your arms as you stared at your phone. “You better wreck my shit afterwards…” You grumbled, listening to his smug hum.
“I’ll see you in five.” Before you could give a response, the line went dead and you sighed.
Hongjoong lived on the sixth floor of your apartment building. You’d run into each other a few times and were instantly attracted to each other, had even gone on dates, but neither of you were willing to cut off your other flings - though you’d eventually stopped meeting them and both of you were currently each others’ only partners. So you’d decided after hooking up after seeing each other at a bar downtown that you’d keep fucking and just make up rules along the way. You shook yourself from your thoughts as you got up from your cozy spot in the corner of your L-shaped sofa and left for your bathroom to freshen up.
He arrived sooner than he said he would so you opened the door while holding your hair up, not having had a chance to pull your hair tie from your wrist yet. He pushed the door shut and grabbed your wrist to stop you. “I like when you leave it down.”
“Well are you gonna help brush it out after it gets matted?” You scowled up at him as you dropped your hands to your sides and he chuckled.
“I can if you’d like me to.” He shrugged and snaked his arms around your waist, pulling you into him. “But making you a mess is the first step.” He whispered as he nudged your head back so he could kiss your neck. You shivered when he pressed his lips to your pulse point and took a deep breath, inhaling your scent. It always got to him how nice you smelled; never failed to get him hard.
“Let’s go to my room.” You murmured, knowing he’d fuck you right there on the spot if you didn’t urge him towards your bedroom. He’d done it before.
He pulled back and stared at you for a moment before nodding. He looked like he wanted to speak - he did - but he waited until you closed your bedroom door behind him. “Open your drawer.” You wrinkled your nose at him but went to your bedside table and opened the bottom drawer as he made his way over. He knelt down and grabbed a condom, tossing it on the bed before picking up your wand vibrator. It wasn’t your favorite but he seemed to love it. “I want you to use this too.” You nodded slowly and he dropped it on the duvet before striding across the room to your desk and taking a seat. “Strip.”
“You want me to make a show out of this too?” You asked, making sure to sound irritated, though you were anything but when he nodded. You slid your hands under your ripped Bon Jovi Runaway tank and up your belly, reaching higher until you were cupping your breasts. You let out a small sigh as you gave a gentle squeeze before pulling the top over your head. You dropped it on the floor and took note of the way his expression changed when he saw your bare chest, smug at the effect you had on him.
You popped the button on your denim shorts and shimmied out of them, letting them drop to the floor and pool around your feet. You did a quick turn after stepping out of them and showed off your ass, half covered by a pair of lace cheeky panties. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw him shift in your office chair, putting the slight tent in his sweats on display for you. You bit back a teasing comment about him already being half hard at almost nothing and hooked your fingers in the elastic waist of your panties.
You pushed them down and smirked at the sharp inhale you heard from behind you before getting on the bed. You propped against the headboard and frowned at him, legs drawn towards your chest and crossed at the ankle to obscure his view. “Why do you have to be all the way over there? Come closer.”
“What, are you worried I won’t hold up my end of the bargain?”
“Not at all. But isn’t it only fair if I also get to watch you?” You tilted your head to the side as he stood. “Besides, we both know how much you love my pussy. You’ll be dying to touch me at some point.” You teased and he rolled his eyes at you.
“Unlike you, I have self control.” He sniped as he crawled onto the foot of the bed, towering over you despite only being on his knees. He reached for your legs and you shrank away from him, sticking your tongue out. He froze with his hand out and cut his eyes at you, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek in annoyance. “Oh, you wanna be like that tonight, huh?”
“So what if I do?” You challenged, your tone full of innocence despite the defiance you spewed.
“You should know by now,” he started, reaching for you again and gripping your knees. “That acting up will only get you edged until you’re crying out of desperation and that when I do finally let you cum - if I let you cum - I won't stop until you’re an incoherent babbling mess, crying from the overstimulation as you try to writhe away from me.” His voice was low and dangerous and you felt a thrill run through your body. “So unless you wanna be on bedrest for the next week, I suggest you drop the attitude.” Your mouth went dry at his threat and you allowed him to part your legs. “That’s what I thought. Now show me how you get off when I’m not here.”
You nodded slowly and he sat back, gaze trailing down your body and locking on your cunt. You closed your eyes to avoid any chance of making eye contact with him and licked your fingers before teasing your nipples. To be honest, it was embarrassing. You felt strange at the thought of someone seeing you at your most vulnerable, holding the knowledge of what you did when you were alone. It was something you usually reserved for a boyfriend, yet you were allowing Hongjoong to see. The trepidation only made you wetter though and you found yourself rushing to dip a single finger into your heat and drag your wetness up to your clit.
You started out small, isolating your middle finger and circling your clit while you brought your other hand to your mouth to stifle your sounds. You moaned for the benefit of your partners, it didn’t change how things felt to you, and he wanted to know how you took care of yourself when he wasn’t around to fuck your stress away. So you kept quiet save for an occasional whine whenever you pressed your fingers back inside.
You heard a soft sigh one such time and peeked out to find him with his dick in his hand, working himself slowly. You wanted to get on your knees and suck the life out of him, or maybe turn your ass up in the air and let him fuck you stupid. You did neither and instead reached for the wand he’d tossed on the bed earlier.
“Put it on the highest setting.” Your eyes flew open and you stared at him in surprise, parting your lips to stutter out a ‘b-but-’ only to be cut off. “Not a word. If you question me, I’ll leave.” Your mouth snapped shut and you did as he demanded, letting out a surprised cry despite knowing what would happen. “That’s a much nicer sound than all the backchat you seem to enjoy.” He said smugly, watching as you tried to relax yourself.
You couldn’t have responded if you’d wanted to, you were too high strung to form a coherent sentence. You simply tried to combat the borderline-overwhelming pleasure and forced your eyes open to watch him. He was on his knees again and he looked like he wanted to reach out and touch you with his free hand. You let your head fall back against the headboard, eyes slipping shut as you bit back a moan.
You reached blindly for him with your free hand and he took it in his, lacing your fingers together. “You’re doing so good for me.” He cooed, noticing the brattiness had entirely left your system and was replaced with desperation and the overwhelming need to be good. “You’re so close, aren’t you?” He sounded like he was talking to a child with the way he coached you. He was right though. He knew all your tells and it was obvious to him that you were on the verge of combusting. “Let go. It’s okay.”
His thumb swiped over the side of your hand in a comforting motion and the tingles that spread from there were the final straw. You couldn’t possibly hold back even if you’d been ordered to. You let out a cry of ecstasy that vaguely sounded like his name as your back arched from the bed and his grip on your hand tightened. You tried to ride out your orgasm with the wand pressed firmly to your clit but it grew to be too much and you threw it to the side, trying to catch your breath as your body spasmed.
After a few minutes of calming yourself, during which Hongjoong had leaned over you to fuss over and take care of you, you opened your eyes and were greeted with his fond expression less than two inches away from your face. “You back?” You nodded and offered a dazed smile.
“I’m back.” You assured him and he leaned closer to press a kiss to your forehead. He was always extremely gentle with you after an orgasm - unless you were being a brat, then he would put you back in your place before finally offering a gentle touch when you couldn’t take anymore.
“You did so good.” He praised and you averted your eyes to contain the pride that swelled in your chest. It was then that you realized he didn’t finish.
“Does that mean you’ll fuck me stupid now?” You asked with a playful grin as you looked back up at him. His expression darkened, his want for you on full display, and his gaze shifted to your lips.
“Hands and knees.”
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Text
CYRAN x READER
More Questions Than Bodies Have Answers For
ONESHOT . SMUT . ANGST
minors/ageless blogs please do not read/like/reblog any of my works where this warning appears (you will be blocked)
x o x o x o
"Cyran... Rose... You are... the..." Your voice sounds strange to your ears.
That last moan from you, that hideously lewd mewling that no bookstore employee has ever made, echoes fresh in your memory, and fresh onto the slender, freckled hand between your quivering legs.
Has he done this before? You're certain now that Cyran is pressing shapes into you that very much do not exist in reality. And the way his low panting, at once dreamy and bestial, matches his strokes is nothing short of hypnotic.
But you can't let yourself runaway with it.
Cyran's not on break, exactly. What are the chances Clavis even remembers whatever errand he sent him on this time? The castle grounds are vast, and there are avenues galore to a particular destination. Detours are completely natural. Probably.
You happened to be in the wine cellar running an errand for Jin, and Cyran happened to... happen by... and...
The exact sequence of events has been lost to heady mouth-plundering, and most of it rattled from your train of thought when your back hit the side of some shelf in the damp dark.
"You're nervous." Cyran ends his sibilant consonants the way an Obsidianite does, but his terse half-lilt is through-and-through the mark of a Rhodolitian knight. And his voice--something you can no longer divorce from the tongue of an amorous kisser--is so terribly warm and balmy.
So why don't your nerves settle into its safety?
Cyran seems unsure of what to do for a moment. His gaze is drawn to your lips but he pulls it back to read your eyes every time he strays. With each flicker his irises catch the hanging lantern's rippling firelight, somehow making him even more bewitching to look at. And that does the complete opposite of putting your breathing into order.
Finally Cyran slides the hand he has over your breast under your arm to wrap around your back. His calloused fingertips run reassuring lines up and down between your shoulder-blades. His other hand pulls away from your center and begins massaging your leg in a similar rhythm. The feel is still hot and sensuous around the edges, but his intent is clear. He's even put some distance between you two, as you can no longer feel his ardor against your inner thigh. And of course that's upsetting too.
"I don't know why I'm being like this," you answer honestly. You pull him closer and rest your forehead against his disheveled collar. He'll be able to hide that love-bite easy enough.
Your eyelids feel heavy all of a sudden, with a false drowsiness that comes from overstimulation. It's Cyran's scent. It truly drives you mad.
Cyran's scent becomes more and more familiar to you with every encounter. Soldier's musk, sweat, but those are mere windfalls against the full-bodied bouquet of sunshine and summer that imbues his skin. Yet it's not wild like unchecked garden growth. Everything about Cyran feels ordered and disciplined. Like he's shopped through time and placed every new vial of himself into a gorgeous display for anyone to appreciate.
At their leisure. Even when princes linger in the same room.
Cyran is a wonder.
But that order and discipline seem shaken now. You don't know if you're projecting or if Cyran is every bit as nervous as you are. This is what, though, your third time doing this together? There is nothing forbidding you from having any sort of affair with...
Wait, is this just an affair? Is that what's bothering you?
...Is this the best time to have that conversation?
Should that conversation have been had three trysts ago?
You don't like that word, you think. You and Cyran are not that word.
Cyran is staring at you wide-eyed. "Why are you making that face?"
You bite your lip and tuck your head against his shoulder again. "What face? Don't read too much into it, please. ...What face?"
"I don't know!" Cyran panics, dropping both hands and surrendering you to the cold cellar. "I'm sorry, I should just-"
"No, please!" You wrap your arms around him. Your heartbeat seeks his out where your chests connect. "You feel so good." It's true but also not what you mean at all.
Cyran falls silent for a moment too long. You count three drops of water from a loose tap somewhere in the shadows. Then he sighs and gently unlatches your arms. "We should-"
"Talk?" Your voice is pulled taut. "Can we?"
"I really have to go soon."
"Cyran..." But hope springs to life when you notice his expression twist at his own words. Maybe he's saying the wrong words too, just like you are?
Still, he walks backward from you, boots strangely silent over the stone floor, until he hits the shelf opposite. "What happens when your month here ends?"
"I go back to town." No. No, you want to say so much more but the words are getting lost somewhere, because Cyran Rose is a knight, and Cyran Rose is kind and beautiful, and maybe you and Cyran Rose never should have happened and-
"And would you think of me?" A voice that vulnerable has no business being this far away from your listening ears. "Do you think of me?"
"Cyran, I wouldn't touch you like this if you weren't on my mind literally all the time."
"All the time?" You can hear the embers of a smile. "Even when... you're, um... alone?"
Your cheeks are a furnace. Certainly it's only natural for Cyran to ask this, and you'd be lying if you weren't immediately, presently, thoroughly occupied with what his answer would be to the same question. You wonder what his bedchambers look like, or if he has to stop himself and duck into some alcove between training, ashamed and cheeks burning, or even...
You blow out a mouthful of air and scuffle your toes against the ground. You were thinking of Cyran very intimately just this morning before Rio brought you your tea. "Would the truth make you uncomfortable?"
"If the truth is what I want it to be then I think it would make me incredibly..." He suddenly turns around and faces the shelf. "I'm sorry. This conversation has gotten so weird, and it's entirely my doing. I'm so sorry."
The sight of this usually so placid knight cowering from you in a cellar draws and quarters you between disbelief, adoration, confusion and a sudden desire to tease.
"Are you still in a rush to leave?"
"Honestly? I'd love to just evaporate away right now."
You wait. You wait an entire minute, not saying anything. And at no point does Cyran make any move to leave. In fact, he even looks over his shoulder, and the look in his eye...
Emboldened, you take several steps toward him and hug him from behind. Emboldened, you slide your hand over the front of his pants, hoping...
Cyran's unfiltered groan fills the entire cellar. Then he bonks his head against the shelf in front of him. "Fuck. Excuse me. Wow. That was loud."
"It was." You press your chest against his back and writhe upwards, finding it strangely easy to be coquettish. "It was really hot too."
Cyran clears his throat. "Shouldn't we be talking?"
"Shouldn't you be leaving?"
"I'm rather, uncomfortably comfortable right where I am, thanks."
Another two drops of water fill the silence. Then the tension bursts into mutual laughter.
If Cyran's voice is lovely with hellos and small-talk, it is pearls on a necklace with laughter. As rich as any prince.
And the way his laugh seems to dance perfectly around yours? How many couples can say that?
Couple. Now that's a word you like. But it's up to Cyran to pull that into his vocabulary for you two.
And there's still a chance that he...
You drop your hand but Cyran catches your wrist and guides you back.
"Cyran...?" You turn your head and rest your cheek against his back.
"Please. I like it when you think of me."
Your heart surges. "Can I take that to mean what I hope you mean?"
He cups your palm around him, rubbing slow, languorous strokes along the hardened length. "I wouldn't want to be touched like this unless you were the one touching me." His breathing is hypnotic with how controlled it is, how it compliments the movements of his and your hand.
You do, you really truly do. Want to runaway with him.
Again, and again, and again.
Lost in the moment, in Cyran, in his quiet beauty, you press a light kiss into his back. "Then maybe... you could show me your bedroom sometime?"
--
credit as always to thewitchofbooks for cyran info and inspiration
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