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satomatto · 8 months

Text

. //ALL BOYS | hybrid au.

ch: cat hybrids!gojo satoru, okkotsu yuuta, ryomen sukuna, choso; dog hybrids!geto suguru, itadori yuji, fushiguro megumi, fushiguro toji; snake hybrid!naoya zenin; dolphin hybrid!inumaki toge; parrot hybrid!mahito; fox hybrids!nanami kento, noritoshi kamo.

cw: concept of hybrids; heat/rut.

tw: breeding kink; hickeys/bites; overstimulation/overexcitement; somnophilia; maybe they all have some yandere-isms; delaying orgasm; multiple orgasms; naoya is as scummy as ever; voyeurism; maybe!non-con; rough sex; who even reads tags; cunnilingus; slit play; submissive!inumaki, yuji; mirror sex; is big dick a warning? big dicks; creampie; pour yourself a warm cuppa, don't be like author; dirty talk; tender sex; size difference.

cw: 6.6k

GETŌ SUGURU

Geto is a nice guy, he won't push you over the top excessively, well able to handle the rut on his own. But it's so boring! In fact, you might not even notice how more and more translucent, wet smudges appear on your mattress every night. He'll even go so far as to use your thighs to recreate the illusion that he's fucking you when the sheets and his hand are no longer enough for self-satisfaction.

Oh, he clearly understands where the boundaries are, firm and unconditional. It's unlikely you'll realize there's something wrong with him before it's too late to do anything about it - he's already struggling to contain himself throughout the day, patiently waiting for the moment when he can touch you with impunity, but if his overall arousal rises even the slightest bit, he'll just short-circuit.

Not in the sense of nonstop, wild fucking - nope, really; his affection and the sweet desire that had overwhelmed him would come out in one solid, warm lump. He'll literally cling to you - he'll wallow in bed with you, wrapped in the sheets, cradling you and sucking on your shoulders and neck, needing attention and stubbornly ignoring your pleas for it to stop, he might even growl at you if you try to break free of his grip. Even though you won't succeed without it - Suguru will still get rougher with you if you offer any resistance. But even so, you probably won't be able to figure out what's exactly going on with him - it's more like a typical bout of tenderness, which he gets quite often because he loves you.

From now on, anything he's done in secret before will no longer be. And you're gonna have to accept that - you should know by now what a piece of shit he really is. This man will do the same thing to you, only now and when you're awake. Oh, don't worry, he won't touch you unless you beg for it. And you will. He likes the way you taste. You can be sure he won't disappoint you; his nimble, harsh tongue sure is capable of a lot - how long do you think he will let you go? I hope you know that his stamina increases a lot during the rut.

You'll probably wake up one day to the unearthly sensation of his tongue in your hole as Suguru moans into your pussy, obviously touching himself down there, making you cum for the umpteenth time in a row. Or from the way he, decides to take advantage of your hips while you sleep peacefully in the, now shared, bed. Sly dark eyes look completely innocent - like he's picking out a bun for his breakfast - oh, baby, he's not doing anything wrong, so you don't have to forgive him!

"Nah, nah, nah, calm down, honey. It's no big deal." Someday, that sly squint will drive you crazy.

GOJŌ SATORU

An already very insolent creature turns into an absolute asshole whose meanness is elevated to an absolute. Oh, do you really want to trade him in for your useless, boring job? Sweetie, you're so naive to believe he'll let you out of bed for a couple hours. You'd better take the weekends off, for the duration of his rut, because he won't be thinking about secondary things like your general busyness. When mating season starts - all you have to worry is him. Your only concern, to whom you'll have to give all your free (and not) time, one way or another.

This guy remains a teaser even when he himself is panting with desire. He has the stamina, frankly, to taunt you despite his aching cock, even in moments of complete shutdown of any self-consciousness - it's like his second nature. One of his favorite tricks is to pump you as much as he can into you, making sure your eyes roll back as hard as they can and your throat makes those sweet sounds of pleasure just for him, turning your poor, already fucked-up brain into a fucking mess.

Gojo always demands a lot of your attention, but then again, almost all of the unpleasant aspects of his personality are more pronounced when mating season begins. His favorite thing to do during this time is to make you almost cry with pleasure while you squeeze his cock so sweetly. His stamina on such days is just off the charts, if on normal days you passed out from overexcitement and fatigue, what do you think will happen then when he wants to fuck you for hours on end? Nothing good, that's for sure. It'll be a half dream and half vision for you - you might pass out during the process and then suddenly start screaming, probably from the pain in your tortured pussy when you wake up - if he's already on instinct, he'll cum in you over and over again, squeezing your thighs until he passes out, or until the obsession wears off.

Satoru even can help you take a shower, though he has a negative attitude toward it, rather than a tolerant one. In fact, you really need his help, because even standing up afterwards can be a bit difficult. I strongly recommend not to refuse it - during his animal outbursts, you better not argue with him (yes, he cares about you purely on instinct). A man will prefer you to complain less and listen to him more - even if all he can utter is inarticulate mooing and scraps of simple words, which is highly expected at the peak of his rut. Along with that, he's soothed by the sound of your voice-even if sometimes his brains are so cluttered that he has no idea what you're saying, able to recognize only intonation and subtly sensing any change in your speech.

"Mm, sweetie, I don't think…" Even after half an hour this sentence was still not finished. Well, he really doesn't think.

NAOYA ZEN'IN

This naga really annoys you. In fact, Naoya thinks you owe him a debt. To be grateful or not is up to you, but his opinion is the only constant: you were chosen by him, so you belong to him now, and you should be grateful that he treats you that way. He will make you say those words over and over again, delaying orgasms, or covering your body with love bites (careful, he's poisonous, but you might say you're lucky - there's an aphrodisiac flowing in his fangs right now, thank him for that <3). Maybe that's not enough? Don't worry, he'll go to the lengths of hurting you for real too, mere spanking and pinching will seem like child's play compared to what he'll do if you don't satisfy him and his sick fantasies.

Fortunately or miserably, this bastard is perfectly in control of himself during the breeding season. Even if he's pounding and shaking at times, if you see him curled up in some dark and warm corner, know that there's no cause for concern - it doesn't hurt him much, just his body doesn't know where to put all that energy. However, Naoya himself perfectly knows where he can use it. If you hear a soft crackling sound from somewhere behind the door, don't be in a hurry to take off your clothes - you can change later, but if the crackling sound is accompanied by a hiss, you'd better turn into a docile and submissive slut and spread out on the bed, throwing your new outfit as far away as possible.

As said above, the naga is perfectly self-controlled, so don't be surprised if you feel the tip of his tail between your legs, playfully stroking your thigh and pressing against your heat through your clothes. Yes, Naoya does it on purpose - just to watch your reaction. It gives him a kind of… Voyeuristic satisfaction - sort of the same nature as those rare occasions of watching you from behind closed doors while he tries to touch himself as quietly as possible, drilling you with the stare of narrow, golden eyes while you unsuspectingly pull off your clothes and wiggle your hips ever so brazenly. He could go further - he knows you won't stop him, but he won't, torturing himself and even you, who've been guessing a little about his fascination lately, with the agonizing wait, only to be left with nothing.

Of the good (and partly even sad): just because he wants you to carry his children doesn't mean nature agrees with him. His body is incapable of forming "proper" embryos inside the eggs - they're all somehow, in their own way, but defective; most likely this has come about as a result of long and not very skilled breeding, as well as frequent incest, but either way, the fact remains. So, after these sessions, they usually just turn into nothing. Well, really, don't say anything about it. For better or for worse, both are insulting and offensive to him in their own way (you're not going to be well, just trust me).

"What idiotic problem do you have this time? Well, let's solve it together… " A dangerous clicking sounded behind you. Don't turn around.

INUMAKI TOGE

So obedient and endlessly tender boy. While his slit is oozing with lubricant - he tries to continue helping you with the cooking, gradually losing his head more and more. Light, quiet trills come out of his mouth, getting more like a squeak from literally your any movement. You can play with him a little - so vulnerable in this state. For example, you could accidentally spill water on him or knock over a bowl of cream, and then start rubbing the wet, sticky apron, pressing and rubbing the spot as if by accident.

Inumaki wouldn't be able to tolerate this for long. Literally in a matter of hours, he would be completely and utterly transformed into a lustful, needy mess. If he has to beg for your attention, you should know, he will Sharp little teeth will nibble at your skin, leaving light marks on it, and a heavy, husky sniffle will tickle your ear for just as long as it takes. Anticipating your question: no, he won't be able to handle it on his own - his brains were already mush the moment he looked at you.

You can put your fingers in his slit and he'll squirm and moan just from the feel of your fingers in his crotch, but if you push them in a little deeper and massage what's inside… He'll go crazy - you just have to run your fingers over what you might call the underside of his cock; the guy will only whimper and beg you to continue, lifting his hips and moving them to meet your hand. If you don't want him to finish so soon, take your fingers out of his hole and wiggle your fingers around a bit, applying pressure and running them downward. Once his dick slips out, unable to stay there because of the copious amounts of natural lubrication - no matter how much Inumaki wants you to, you can do whatever you want with the guy - he won't resist He just can't.

He always makes that lustful yet totally innocent, angelic face when you touch him. He's happy to let you ride him, during a hot period, he's just not in control of himself (as he's basically always been - a guy can hardly be aware of his actions when he's aroused. You can make him perform the most idiotic action time after time - he won't suspect a thing. Here's the truth, though, that doesn't mean that after Toge cools off a bit, he won't blush and run off somewhere far away from you; don't be unkind). But, if you're starting to think he's a snot, he's not so much submissive as horny, and in that state of mind, easier to hand over the reins of control to someone who's not completely out of his head and capable of doing the right thing.

Just drag him into the bathtub - you'll be instantly pinned to the wall, because he's no longer in control of his transformation, at a time when even his thoughts are flowing sluggishly, with great difficulty - barely. Caress his thighs, the place where the human part of him touches his tail. His belly will turn pink and his slit will begin to ooze lubrication. His chirping will softly caress your ears, and his naughty fingers will find your warm spot pretty quickly. Seeing you enter a state like his makes Inumaki bite his lip. Careful with that, though - the teeth, which aren't large, are all razor sharp.

"Hn-n," the guy moans, followed immediately by a short, loud and awkward trill, cutting himself short. But why, such a sweet sound isn't something to be embarrassed about.

ITADORI YUJI

This guy is actually obsessed with your butt. The enthusiasm with which he moves his hips into you and digs his hands into your plump ass every time, kneading it like dough - real dedication, any way you look at it. He doesn't usually have this kind of eagerness, but right now, it looks almost desperate - the occasional thrusts and the subtle whimpers continuously emanating from his throat are so turned on. Despite the fog in his head, he's still trying to hold himself back for you - it's so sweet, don't you think?

Itadori will try so hard for both of you - so hard that you'll have to force him to let you go so you don't both die of dehydration and you stop getting a hellish cramp in your hips with every thrust he makes. He'll use your holes around the clock if you let him - but he's a good boy, so he'll stop if you ask him to. In other, don't expect any indulgences, he has almost low control over himself, being at the mercy of his instincts and hellish, unbridled arousal all day long - poor Yuji himself is waiting for it all to end, it exhausts him almost to the point of insanity.

He loves making you cum at the same time as him; at the same time, he's always hungry for your praise - he literally melts from it, go ahead. You can gently touch your belly as you sit on his knot, push a little on the protruding outline of his cock - this boy already whimpers every time you squeeze him, hell yeah he'll go crazy Yuji just can't help himself and will start licking your face like a real puppy, and please - please (!), touch it, touch it lower…

It might be safer for you to wait it out, but I'm afraid that if you do, Yuji won't be able to forgive himself or you. He'll be able to let you go, he won't hold you back, but his trust in you will be shattered. Okay, if it happens in the beginning, before the guy even touches you, but if you disappear a couple days later, or even near the end, Itadori will be very worried about it. Yeah, he'll be freaking out - what if he did something wrong? Did he hurt you? Or maybe you just stopped liking him? No, no. For a creature who only seeks your approval, this would equate to a simple ditching - you'd break his heart.

"P-mg-please…!" Itadori is rendered speechless by how skillfully you saddle his hips. Don't slow down.

MAHITO

Mahito is crazy on his own - the heat has almost no effect on him unless he wants it himself. If you think he doesn't normally touch you - you are sorely mistaken. He may spend nights exploring your body out of pure interest, Mahito won't hold back his curiosity even if you catch him doing it - in fact, it will only encourage him to continue, even with more fervor, roughly touching everything he can reach with his fingers.

The guy will spread your legs, playing with your hole and rubbing your wretched clit until you start gasping from overexcitement and inability to cum. Oh, this guy is cunning - he'll use every trick in his arsenal to bring you to the point of exhaustion. You may be wondering why you can't cum. It's simple really, Mahito just won't let you do it until he's played with you. You're wondering "how"? Well, speaking of his tricks, some manipulation of your soul results in this - you'll start feeling his touch everywhere, by the end of your adulteries, there won't be a place on your body that this pervert hasn't touched; indeed, inside you too.

He'll let you play with the feathers on his wings. In truth, he looks more like a particularly fluffy bat than a bird. They're actually very soft, but you don't want to touch them for too long - just look at his eyes at that moment and you'll understand. If suddenly he grabs you and presses you against him, burying his nose in your neck, don't twitch, and certainly don't try to break free. Relax and sit like that for a few minutes - settle on his hips, make yourself as comfortable as you like, fidget as much as you like - the guy's like Ken in there, so you don't have to worry about that, but you don't want to provoke his irritation.

On average, it's still not that bad. If only Mahito didn't clean out your fridge daily, things would still be exactly as they should be. But, of course, the weirdness doesn't end there - one day he might just come along and screw your ass - it's up to you to decide what to do about it. Hopefully you know how a prostate massage is done, it will probably be enough for him - at the very least just play with his hole, oh it will throb so violently every time you hit some point deep inside the guy. After all, this creature better not be denied too harshly.

"Ha-ha-ha!" The guy laughs loudly as you burrow your fingers into his feathers. Just, don't yank those overly hard.

NANAMI KENTO

Nanami is a sufficiently mature man to sit down with you before all of this and discuss some of the details of the coming period. Along with that, you have to decide what to do about it - he'll ask you a few times if you're ready for it before settling down and leaving you to mull over what's going on. The fox has enough control over his state of mind that, if anything, he'll be able to stop in time and not hurt you much - at most, it'll be bruises on the wrists he likes to hold above your head so much. Usually, he tries to finish as quickly as he can, but sometimes he'll catch on.

You might regret allowing yourself the idea that sex with him is boring when the man continues to lazily thrust into you after two hours, not wanting to stop and shoving his cock into your tortured holes no matter what. But judging by the fact that even in this state, Kento continues to care about more than just his own pleasure - you're bound to cum next. Probably more than once. A man likes it when you beg him and call him daddy. He has no idea why, but it makes him fuck you rougher, counting to sparks from your eyes and buckling legs, possibly affecting your ability to sit up properly or even stand without bending over from the pain in your stomach and ass… It's sure to be worse than your period.

Kento is a responsible man, he will definitely take care of his partner afterwards, because he knows very well what state you're in right now. He'll help you get to the bathroom if you don't mind - he'll even wash you with a nice bit of warm water, and in the morning you'll have breakfast waiting right in bed. After all, like a true gentleman, he should take care of you, no matter how tired he is; after all, you also took care of him. The only exception is when you make him jealous. In those cases, he is unable to even clean himself up, let alone do anything else. And, you're already wondering how to do it.

After this ambiguous period, Nanami will lose a lot of weight because his body can no longer consume food in the same quantities as it did during the rut. At times, he will simply forget to eat, due to his poor condition - frequent dizziness and general weakness, he will be immensely pleased if you show care towards him. It is better to ventilate the apartment more often - low temperatures man tolerates better than heat - and already tired of this condition, the man will want only normal rest. In addition, it is worth specifying the fact that he has a very sensitive sense of smell. Sharp odors irritate him, be careful with this.

"Are you alright?" A slightly hitched, loud breath comes out of the man's chest with a slight whoosh.

NORITOSHI KAMO

Noritoshi is a pretty darling dude, he's embarrassed enough to talk to you about it, but he'll definitely give you a couple words of warning so it's not a total surprise. Sweetness, he just doesn't know what to make of it. It's just as unfamiliar to him as it is to you - feeling his own body in this way is obviously new to the boy. So, he will definitely ask for your help in solving this problem.

During the rut, the guy stays calm and even seems a bit sleepy, and that's actually true - if he could, he'd be asleep all day long, but alas, it will not be possible to just lay this thing off - no matter how much he wants to. If the fox seems a little grumpy to you at first, that's normal. Aggression in the first couple of days is natural for his species, and even though he tries his best to keep it to a minimum, his fluffy tail will still rise up every time he sees you. Massage his head, especially near his ears, and play with his hair a bit - you can comb it with a coarse-toothed comb to relax him.

The guy is as calm as a boa constrictor during this process - he has only one goal, to release tension; mostly his own, but you can work with that - the guy just doesn't know what to do with you, guide him a little, help him understand exactly what you want from him and he will pick it up immediately - he learns quickly. After all, Camo is well aware that there's not much you can do alone - he's at your pleasure, especially when he's blown away. The pace stays the same, darling, you probably won't even notice it, because you'll be blacking out just a couple minutes after the guy enters this state - most likely neither you nor he will understand why it happened; he - because he doesn't remember anything that happened to him during this state, you - for obvious reasons, just can't know it. Only the marks on your body and neck will be any hint of what happened.

Noritoshi is trying to take care of you - he's not a stupid person and realizes that you need follow-up care, even if you seem quite alert. He will gently but insistently guide you to the bathroom and put you to bed, perhaps he can also stretch your stiff legs if he notices that you can't find a comfortable position. You can ask him for help at any time - his fluffy ears will instantly turn in your direction, and he'll listen to your every word.

"Lay still, you need to rest." To the question: "do you?" the guy only lets out a slight, barely elusive chuckle and sighs deeply.

OKKOTSU YUTA

It's not so clear-cut with him. You can't be fully prepared for your furbaby's heat, no matter what you do before it. No one knows what will suddenly click in his poor head and what he will do to fulfill his desires. You don't have to worry, though - he treats you like a princess, carries you around on his arm and makes you stay close to him; even if you don't like it very much, I highly recommend listening to him. Well, if it makes you feel any better - Yuta will always be more dangerous to others than to you.

Oh, his flushed face is so inviting. Press your lips against his - bite them, kiss them like it's your last time, and he'll return the favor. Yuta usually moves at a relatively slow pace, letting you relax and get used to him - to fully experience the process. The tingles rushing across your skin like electric shocks, something brackish on your lips, the cool air from the room contrasting so sharply with the heavy, hot breath that mingles with your languid moans caressing your ears.

Okkotsu likes it when you're on top. No, you still don't have complete control - Yuta is like a caring, overprotective parent, sort of letting his baby have all the fun he wants, but ready to interrupt and take over at a moment's notice. In fact, he really does treat you like a baby. Despite the external insecurity, the guy is really aware of what he is doing and what consequences can come out of all this - he has plenty of responsibility, but sometimes it's hard to take him seriously. Ah, yes, in spite of that, you still have to deal with a little bit of guardianship from his side, although it should be the other way around, but that's another story.

This cutie is hungry for affection - you can touch him everywhere, from his soft (slightly greasy) ears to the tip of his tail. His reaction will probably be the most adequate - he likes to be touched, but he is calm about it, without much passion, like a normal cat, even when he is constantly in a state of slight excitement. Unless your actions become a little more intense. A little more pressure, a slight pull, a soft and rhythmic massage, lower… This will already be perceived as a signal for action. But don't worry, you can touch him at any time without any problems - he even encourages it. In his own way, with a short lick on the cheek or a playful nibble on the neck, but he's really pleased that you're taking such initiative.

"Hey-hey-hey-hey, sparkle, that's not the point-you shouldn't be walking around like that after being so overwhelmed!" The guy turns around to see you, awakened by the delicious aroma coming from the kitchen and now frozen in the doorway, wagging your tail unhappily as the oil in the pan sizzles and shoots upwards. Oops, looks like you accidentally ruined the surprise.

RYŌMEN SUKUNA

Do you think he's possessive? Well, I'll stop you in your tracks - more like yandere on steroids. You'll have to take a day off work - better a vacation right away, because Sukuna will not tolerate other people's scent on you at any stage of his rut - none at all, except his own. Be sure that you have enough food at home, because heaven forbid you should bring even that slight residue of perfume from the elevator on you… It won't be good for you or the unfortunate person whose cologne was left hanging in the air before it settled on your clothes.

Sukuna treats you like a sex slave, a fuck toy, an inferior being, even with his four arms around your frail body and his cocks deep inside your insides and his dry lips whispering dirty words in your ear. His attitude won't change, darling, but you'd better always stay within the confines of the same room with him and obediently spread your legs whenever he demands it. In fact, you can initiate intercourse yourself - he won't stop you from pleasuring him, but know that even after that, he'll be sure to fuck you properly.

His favorite spot is the windowsill; pressing you against the glass, knowing full well that someone might notice you… There's something about it. For some reason, a man especially likes to bend you roughly over right in front of him, making you rest your hands on the frame and shiver with each of his thrusts, while all his hands move slowly all over your body - stroking every curve, your swollen tummy, the waist so perfectly suitable for him to place one pair of his hands on it, your sweet titties bouncing with the rest of your body, while down below, your womb making the loudest, most shameful sounds just for him - Ryomen loves you whole and entire, even if he will never admit it to you or to himself. Oh, if you can ever forget him (which is impossible in itself), the feeling of his cock in your pussy will not be erased from your memory. He is the master in your relationship, rather than you. And he likes to pamper his pet.

Sukuna has a very sensitive tail. If you ever want to touch it, ask permission, and then treat it as if it might fall apart at the slightest gust of wind. Under no circumstances, God forbid, do not sit on it. Never, ever. Ryomen will not look at your relationship or your affection and empty, stale feelings as his heart. He might not kill you, but he'll maim you for sure. In fact, he'll like you all he wants, but you're not likely to bounce back quickly - and the scars on your body will be an eternal reminder of your small but painful misstep and how dangerous he can be. During sexual intercourse, you can lightly massage the very base of his back - where the fur meets the human part of his back - your actions will definitely be met by his approving purr, which may well pass for a growl, only slightly muffled (only for you!). The only thing - make sure that your hands are dry, and the fur does not stick to them (and it is better to touch only human skin around. That area is also sensitive, but he'll probably like it better).

"So pretty, little slut… Come on, come on, get your hand away from your face - I want to see your adorable face!" Mockingly mutters Ryomen, continuing to move, and making you bite your lip as both of his cocks pierce your holes - too much? You beg him to stop.

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

Even if Megumi is collected and calm at first, eventually even he'll start to waver. His seemingly stable state will become a trap - he'll be ready to tear you apart if you get too close, because he doesn't know what to do with his new state yet. It's hard for him; try to talk to him from a distance, offer your help - we are responsible for those we tame. If you can make a deal with him, he'll reluctantly get up and follow you into the bedroom, but if Fushiguro starts turning away from you and snorting, looking away and down, stop trying, it's not going to get you anywhere. Of course, I won't stop you from trying, but who knows what he'll do if you keep seducing him.

The guy will bite you. Back of the neck, almost behind the ear - you know. It's not his bad whim (although it's hard to be responsible for that anymore), it's more of an instinct. Is it so hard to wait for him to tag his beautiful mate? He eventually gets used to all this and starts to take a lot more initiative, sometimes grunting tiredly into your neck and wagging his tail, he still doesn't like his condition, but over time the guy becomes more tolerant of it all - taking it for granted, which isn't great, but anyhow better than a complete refusal to deal with it.

Megumi is a smart boy, he knows exactly what happens if you overdo it, so he always picks a pace that is comfortable for both of you. For some reason, Fushiguro likes sex facing a reflection. He often moves that big full-length mirror in the corner of the room to your bed and spreads your legs in front of it, playing with your wet hole for long periods of time, making you squirm in his arms and beg for his cock, occasionally praising you and mumbling what a good girl you are - so obedient in his arms. It really turns him on, his flushed cheeks and eyes twitching with pure delight - what you'll see in that very mirror, if you can do it, while his fingers are so deep inside you, caressing places you didn't even know existed - you just have to wonder, "How?" he manages to do that with just his hands?

He loves it when you cook his food - your cooking basically. You can spend half a day in the kitchen, be sure your labors will not go unnoticed, he will eat everything and thank you. If suddenly, you're wondering about the reward - don't worry, he's very generous, especially when he's fed and satisfied. Megumi is damn fascinated by the way you try to please him - no matter how he's feeling at the moment, he'll always be mesmerized by the movements of your hands as if under hypnosis. Stroke his head, and once you're free, massage his ears, and he'll be completely at your mercy, his eyes at that moment just something filled with boundless devotion and delight.

"Ha-ah, honey, you're just adorable," Megumi kisses you loudly on the top of your head, caressing your thighs with joy in his gaze and pulling you to him. Ah, yes, the sudden bursts of joy and mood swings were worth getting used to.

FUSHIGURO TOJI

Absolute Asshole 2.0. He knows how much you enjoy riding his cock and takes full advantage of it. Toji teases you on purpose - accidentally miss when he seemed ready to be inside you? Slow down at the most inopportune moment? Oh, along with that, he also enjoys watching you melt, literally fall apart on his cock like a trained slut.

Fushiguro prefers to take turns using your holes, making sure both are filled. It's exhausting - but this man is relentless. With him, you're sure to have a hard time. After two days, there won't be a surface in your house that he hasn't fucked you on. Not to mention he'll snap on the first day - ask him to tie himself up and don't expect fair play. And if he does make the knots tight enough, you'll have to voluntarily do to him what he does to you on your own - not without that, alas.

You'll have to force him into the shower - he'll be completely neglected the moment he decides he doesn't need it. In fact, he does - and even if he doesn't normally smell, during the rut the whole house smells of that disgusting musky odor. Relax, though: you'll eventually stop paying attention to him. Fun fact: in this state, Toji just hates the smell of cherries. If you decide to take a bath, use anything that doesn't have a cherry scent.

At times, Fushiguro will just come up to you and grab you like a teddy bear - twirling you around in his arms until you wrap your arms around him with tears in your eyes. There's something about. The way his big hands hold you up in the air and onto his cock with such ease. Hold on tight, it's really wild. After that, Toji really works up an appetite. A vicious appetite. Even if a man doesn't normally deny himself a refill, now he's just going to clean out your fridge, your cupboards, all the food in the house. You're gonna have to use a delivery guy. Use his credit card for that and don't be afraid.

"Baby, I think that smell is disgusting."

CHOSO

Choso will continue to take care of you even when you're in heat. The only problem is that this time his guardianship will increase many times over. Also, the guy is freezing all the time, and with that comes a panicky fear of water, especially cold water. That's why you'll have to sit with him in a thousand blankets and not the best odor coming from this pile, in which, he also rolled before it. He's a cat with a dog's demeanor.

He doesn't really need sexual stimulation, it's just a supplement. His mind is also consumed by instincts, but they are more about protecting his partner and something like nesting attracts him much more than a rude fuck. Of course, that doesn't mean he doesn't need sexual stimulation at all. You'll also have to spread your legs in front of him on a regular basis, but he'll be much softer, still capable of not completely losing control of yourself or the situation - you can totally relax, he'll do it all. If you're not ready for something more, he'll also accept that you just jerk him off - your hands are much nicer than his, covered with rough skin and calluses. Thighs are also an option - he can handle that part of his rut on his own (relatively), but it's up to you to figure out what to do with the rest.

For some reason, Choso really likes to bite you. Every bit of your body that he can reach, your neck will be covered in multiple painful bites and red marks. I'm afraid it's far from the most pleasant thing that's ever happened to you, but really, you're still lucky that it only takes him out in moments of obsession. Otherwise, you wouldn't have been able to tolerate it so successfully. If your neck is inaccessible - wrapped in bandages, or you've treated it with bitter medication - he might start doing the same thing to your wrists, or hips.

Guy loves when you talk to him - read him a bedtime story, he'll definitely enjoy it. Sometimes, Choso wakes up completely disoriented, as if he's forgotten where he is and what's going on. At such times, all he has to do is hug you and cuddle as tightly as he can, drawing in air and letting your scent fill his lungs completely. Because of this, Choso is often sticky with you, but he flat out refuses to go outside. At least a moment of peace (but don't stay out there longer than usual - otherwise he'll get anxious and might even follow you. This is especially unacceptable because Choso's spatial awareness is abysmal).

"Please don't move. Let's just lie like this… Just a little longer." The dude clearly doesn't notice the sweat dripping off you. He doesn't notice the sweat dripping off you, either, but he not only ignores it, he purrs low and low, burrowing deeper into the blanket.

mm-m, let's talk about… (ask box is open)

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livingemkayde · 8 months

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in plain sight

joel miller x f!reader (post outbreak) | 2.8k

↳ warnings: lets see what were cooking with today team, this is rated for 18+ only! minors, please do not interact. smut, unprotected pinv, joel is kinda creepy (!) but in a fun way!? public / visible undressing, idk if this counts as it but like voyeurism?? or exhibitionism? idk im not too versed with my -isms. no use of y/n. let me know if i forgot anything.

↳ a /n: heres a little short (ish) one shot because i have COVID and i am SAD!!! joel is literally peeping tom 😭. idk where this came from, and i will not be giving an explanation at this time! thanks for reading and supporting, as always, inbox is sooo open and i love you all.

if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist!

“I saw you,” you start, but his hand comes up to grip your jaw gently, angling your face to meet his. It’s a little harder to talk, “in the window,” you mumble. “You should close your blinds.” “You should mind your business.” Your hand slips to rest against his chest. “You really want me to?” his lips brush your ear, “You came over here to tell me that?” His thumb brushes over your breast through the cotton of your shirt. You moan, quietly. If he wasn’t so close he might’ve not been able to hear. But he does, and it spurs him on further. “Hm?” he slots your body between his legs. You shake your head.

He can see you—through the window.

You weren’t sure at first. He’s new in town, took the place next to yours. But it was a peering, sneaking feeling following you around your room. Especially in that limbo between dinner and midnight. When you get especially restless and the yellow light emanating from your room is highlighted against the blueish black sky.

You knew it was something, an unvoiced feeling that made you keep your mouth shut. But it didn’t will you to shut your blinds. It wasn’t creepy—it excited you. Maybe some sick part of you changes in front of the window just for him.

So when you had caught him—two nights ago. It only spurred you on further.

You got caught in the rain, sprinting upstairs and stripping down to your underwear. You didn’t even think he was home. Maybe that’s why you didn’t close your blinds before shedding your clothes—or maybe it was something else entirely.

The soaked cotton of your t-shirt plopped down onto the hardwood. You stepped out of your jeans, turning your back to the window subconsciously. And when you reached around your own back to unclasp your bra, you felt it—that peering gaze.

Delicate fingers undid the clasp and as you pulled the straps off your body, you looked over your shoulder, hitching your chin to the side.

And you saw him, standing at his window. He had a cup of something in his hand, a tight fist wrapped around it. The soft rays of sunlight pushed a heavy glare over his body but you could see his face—a deer in headlights. A thief, caught red handed. In a blazing offense.

And you, equally shocked—that it really was him looking all this time—that he spent his afternoon hours peering over into your room instead of living his life in his. That the stoic, grumpy, brooding — Joel Miller — stood studying you undressing like a showgirl.

You had gasped a little, a quick thing, and he shut his blinds just as quickly and turned away—his shadow faded into the dim light of his bedroom window.

Truthfully, you look for him everywhere you go. At the market. In the mess hall. At the stables when you’re rounding up hay. You don't see much of him, but you look for him. Take a quick inconspicuous peak over your shoulder. A watchful eye on the entrance to the bar. A peering gaze through windows, just like he does to you.

You look for him behind your eyelids, in those late hours of the night, when his window goes dark some time after yours floods black.

It almost seems like you’re always looking for him.

But you never truly see him. Not really. It almost seems like he’s avoiding you.

But it’s somewhat of a celebratory night—Tommy’s birthday. So you get all too particularly dressed up for the Tispy Bison and rush over, the feeling of Joel’s gaze two nights ago still stuck sweetly to the skin of your back.

A set of peering brown eyes meet yours when you walk in but they look away quickly. They always look away quickly. And maybe it’s the adrenaline coursing through your veins, or the younger Miller brother waving you over, but you want to change that. If it’s your life’s mission, you want him to look at you, and never, ever, look away.

“Happy birthday, old man,” you smile at Tommy, he pulls you into a hug, your cheek pressing tightly against the breast of his jacket. All you can feel are eyes on you—the curve of your neck, your hand resting gently on Tommy’s waist.

“C’mon,” Tommy shakes you slightly, “not that old.”

Then he looks back at Joel in a quiet, joking kind of way.

“Hey,” you breathe, nodding towards Joel. He clears his throat, straightens his back, wets the skin of his lips and gives you a sharp nod in return. He drops your eyes for his fingers resting on the bartop.

“Aren’t y’all neighbors?” Tommy questions, almost confused why the air seems so — awkward.

Joel’s eyes flick under the gaze of his question, the muscle in his jaw tightens. He shoots a quick glance at you and then back to his brother. Your palm starts to sweat where it rests on the bar.

Neighbors.

You stay silent to let Joel answer his brother, but he fails, landing a defeated fist gently on the table, and turning away from the two of you, towards the bartender. Tommy’s eyebrows furrow.

“Yeah,” you jump in, nod, smile, deflect, “We are.”

“Tommy!” A rowdy group of men pull Tommy backwards into the forming circle. Happy Birthdays are exchanged following many claps on the back. They stagger away into the background noise.

Only Joel and you are left.

You wave down the bartender.

“I’ll have whatever he’s having,” you say, nodding towards Joel at your side.

A sweaty man emerges from the dancefloor to order a drink at your side. He smiles at you. You ignore him.

“You like whiskey?” Joel mumbles from your other side, bringing the glass to his lips, staring directly ahead. You study the curve of his nose.

“Sometimes,” you slide closer across the bar towards him, away from the other guy.

Joel’s fingers tap on the wood. Your foot hits your own bar chair to the beat of the song. Your heart beats a little faster when he sneaks a glance at you out of the corner of his eye. It’s almost like he’s waiting with bated breath — anticipating you to confront him about the events of two nights ago.

You don’t, though. Not yet, at least.

“Y’all close?” he says, nodding back towards Tommy.

You nurse your drink at your lips.

“Patrol,” the whiskey burns as it goes down, “you gonna get out there soon?”

“Old man like me?”

“Not that old,” you bite the rim of the glass, “Could probably use you out there.”

He huffs a breath through his nose, swinging the glass in his hand, “Probably.”

“You should come check it out,” you look at him through your lashes, “I need a new partner.”

Joel huffs a breath, almost downing the rest of his drink. You sneak out of your chair and move closer.

Tommy’s group breaks into laughter from beside you. A man bumps into your back and your drink spills to the floor, sloshing around in the clear glass while you stumble a little.

Joel’s hand reaches out to grab your hip. The warm callousness of his thumb notches against that soft skin of your side, uncovered by fabric. He grips you, his thumb, featherweight, pushing against bone, sending a heat between your legs.

Your hand lands on his bicep.

“Sorry,” you mumble, he doesn’t take his hand away, not until you straighten your shirt and turn your body back to the bar. He grumbles a quiet apology to follow yours.

“Can I get another, please?” you ask the bartender, your cheeks heat. Your whole body does.

The bartender places a whiskey in front of you and you grab it promptly, swinging your body towards Joel, raising your glass to him. He looks at you silently, then down to your outstretched drink in hand.

A quiet contemplation.

“What for?” He asks.

Your palms start to sweat and you’re worried it might fog up the new glass. The yellow lights of the bar turn his skin golden. He’s wearing that green flannel you saw him in at the window, the sleeves of it pushed over his elbows. The wired muscle of his forearms flick under the tense air.

You’re nervous he might take this the wrong way. But like you thought earlier, you want him to look at you, and never, ever, look away.

So you smirk at him, choose your words carefully—and decide to bite.

“New neighbors.”

His gaze flicks to yours. His lips part, then close again, maybe shocked, maybe something else. Then he lets out something strangled, air between teeth and tongue and he huffs like he can't help it. Like he doesn’t know what to do with what you’ve given him—with what you’ve baited him with.

New neighbors.

His glass doesn’t meet yours, so you clink them together for him, sipping on the dark liquor with a small smile behind the rim. He clears his throat, and gatherers a staggered breath while downing the rest of his drink.

“You like your new place, right?” you ask.

Joel stares at you, almost scared, questioning.

“‘S fine,” he finally says.

“Just fine?”

“‘S nice.”

“I think so too,” you get closer to him and when he doesn’t back away, “big bedrooms.”

You can see his Adam's apple bob up and down.

“Yup,” he whispers. When you get closer, he slips a hand into your jacket, palming at your waist, spreading the broadness of his hand across your ribs. You try not to gasp. He holds you there, almost a warning. A cautionary message. A blaring stop sign.

But you were never much for listening, anyways.

“Nice view?” you mumble, staring at his lips.

You can feel his breath punching against your face, the hand on your ribs slides higher.

You tilt your head, a question — in more ways than one.

He doesn’t respond, the muscle in his jaw flicks the longer you stand there studying his face. His eyes keep flicking down to your lips—you’re worried he can feel your heartbeat when he inches closer. Some country slow song comes on, maybe the lights dim, or maybe his stare darkens — turns devilish — and it makes it seem like it does.

“What are you doin’?” he whispers.

“Nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like—” he huffs a breath and looks down to your lips, “—nothin’.”

“I saw you,” you start, but his hand comes up to grip your jaw gently, angling your face to meet his. It’s a little harder to talk, “in the window,” you mumble.

“You should close your blinds.”

“You should mind your business.” Your hand slips to rest against his chest.

“You really want me to?” his lips brush your ear, “You came over here to tell me that?”

His thumb brushes over your breast through the cotton of your shirt. You moan, quietly. If he wasn’t so close he might’ve not been able to hear. But he does, and it spurs him on further.

“Hm?” he slots your body between his legs.

You shake your head.

“Yeah,” he whispers in your ear, already pushing you towards the entrance of the bar, “Yeah, ’s what I fuckin’ thought.”

“Fuck—Joel.”

You press the palms of your hands to glass, your own breath fogging up the pane in front of you. The skin of your cheek bites against the coldness of it, you can barely make out Joel’s reflection from behind you.

“You like this?” he shoves your pants past your hips, “like me watchin’ ya?”

And yes, you’re kind of surprised at how much you do. You like this. You like him watching you in those late hours of the night. Before you would retreat behind the safety of your covers and make yourself come to the thought of Joel Miller.

He slaps your ass, and kneads it where he leaves raised red marks behind in his wake. Your tits push against the window, pebbling your nipples. It almost hurts when they’re pressed up against the glass like that.

“Joel,” you moan, ignoring his question.

“Put on a show f’me,” he runs his fingers through your wetness, teasing your aching clit, “every day. Fuckin’ tease.”

Your open mouth kisses the window, breathing heavy fog onto it. You push back against him but he keeps you pressed against the window with a strong hand on your back.

You don’t know how you found yourself in Joel Miller’s bedroom, let alone his house. Somehow between now and the bar, rough words, and teasing touches managed to get you slotted between him and his bedroom window. Forced to look out towards your room—where you baited him for weeks.

“Christ,” he mumbles, feeling your wetness, collecting it and letting his fingers disappear between your legs. Yours grasp at nothing, squeaking against the pane there, looking for something, anything to grab onto. He’s got you up against the window like a painting on a canvas, the sill framing your bodies for everyone to see.

But he doesn’t care—that anyone could see—and that excites you more.

You look back at him, he’s got a pained look on his face, staring down at your body bent for him. You bite your lip and hide your face between hair and glass when you hear the clink of his belt.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, pulling himself out, groaning at the sensation, spreading you all over himself. You wait with bated breath.

A big and rough hand hangs on the back of your neck. You can feel him notch himself against your entrance. You move your hips back to meet him, but he stops you. You’re frozen under his touch, a model, waiting to be molded however he desires.

“You like this, angel?” he whispers.

This—being pushed against the window, where anyone can see, like how he saw you, all those nights, all those times before.

Yes, hell yes, you do.

“Yeah,” you whimper, he presses your head into the window further, you squirm in anticipation. His rough hand tangles between hair. The tip of his cock almost pushes into your cunt.

“You do it for me?”

It—undressing in front of the window, pacing around in your underwear, framed by the golden light escaping from the glass, never shutting your blinds, just for him.

You’d be kidding yourself if you said no.

“Yes,” you whisper in a hoarse voice—then suddenly, his fingers drop from your head.

Joel slides in, slowly. Pushing past your tightening walls, your hand pounds a heavy fist into the windowpane and the glass shakes under the pressure. When his hips are flush with yours, he waits.

“Pretty,” he mumbles into your hair and you freeze.

You don’t say anything, still panting against the window, “Always—” he pulls out, and thrusts back in, setting an agonizingly slow pace, “—pretty.”

You tense around him, whimpering. Your forehead ducks down and lands against the glass with a thud.

“Wanted you to—ngh—” you moan. His hand braces against the window and you hold on to it, grabbing at it aimlessly. He slides his fingers between yours. “—wanted you to see me,” you admit.

“I know,” he drawls, “I know, baby.”

His pace is slow at first, gentle. But it speeds up into something deafening. Your body pushes up against the glass with each thrust of his hips. He grabs at your hair, holds your hand, and kisses your neck through it all.

Joel wraps his arms around your waist when he feels you going numb.

“C’mon,” he whispers, “doin’ good. So—fuck—so good.”

The angle is deeper, sharper—he’s bigger than what you’re used to. You bite your lip in favor of screaming.

He hits something inside you and his breath snags somewhere deep in his throat, pushing grunts out into the crown of your hair.

It’s obscene. The gesture. All of it. The throb between your legs comes to a splitting pitch, your breath sharp and cutting just like his. Your head spins, panting through fuzzy vision. His words go straight to your core. The thought that if someone were to walk by and happen to look up, they’d see you—how he’s got you pressed up against glass like an exhibit.

“Joel—” you yelp, he cuts you off, playing with your clit, pushing you over that thin edge. Your muscles choke his cock, turning to putty in his hands as you whine his name, crying out so the glass echoes it back to you.

He bites down onto the bare skin where your neck meets your shoulder. Leaving behind marks that you’ll see for days to come. Not that you mind. You reach back, crumple up cotton into your fists and feel his wired muscles flex under your palm.

“Fuck, angel,” he groans, you spin around to kiss him, and swallow his moans with your own. Teeth and tongue and whimpers to go with the rest of them.

His hips stutter into yours, you push against him, bordering on the edge of too much but when his breath stalls from above you and his hand holding yours goes tight, you finally relax. He spills into you, you feel his cock pulse from somewhere deep inside you.

His head rests against the back of your neck for what seems like forever, you can feel his hot mouth trail kisses down your back until you both laugh and he finally slips out of you and lets you turn around.

He kisses you. Really kisses you. And when he pulls back, he sighs. Pushing out air between his parted lips, like he doesn’t really know what to do now. But he looks at you. And keeps looking at you, even when you think he might break your gaze.

Looking at you, and never, ever, looking away.

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mandowifey · 1 year

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Touch

Na'vi!Quaritch x Human!Fem!Reader

(Short Drabble!)

Warnings: NSFW, fingering (fem receiving), Voyeurism, hold the moan, public sex, Miles being a smug bastard. This wasn't proofread or edited.

Colonel Quaritch has never been described as a soft and understanding man. This statement was also applicable to the 9ft tall Na'vi reincarnation, who had set his sights on you some time ago.

X x X x X x X x X

Getting used to his quirks and isms took time, and often, you felt as though he didn't quite understand himself either. Both of you were often left guessing.

But not today.

Quaritch was sitting back at a projection table, yellow eyes boredly skimming over a display of terrain while the rest of the Recom team prattled off about rotations and reconnaissance. He was not listening to them, though. Instead, his pointed ears twitched with every breath you gave from his lap.

He liked to humiliate you.

You couldn't tell if it got him off or if he just did it to watch you go red. Being only half his size, you couldn't do much about it. When he forced you to perch in his lap, you had argued and squirmed until his arm wrapped around your body and his large hand sunk under the table and into your slacks.

All your sense left you as those huge blue fingers played and stroked over your covered crease. With your back to his chest, you swore you could hear the soft rattle of a purr escape him. That asshole.

It didn't take much to make you blush, but him fondling you during a meeting had you fighting to keep composure. He knew it, too. Putting an elbow on the table, Miles leaned into his hand, giving the impression he would rather be anywhere else. In truth, he did. He wanted his private quarters with you bouncing on his cock. But work was work, and he could settle on tormenting you.

Your legs open wide under the table as he draws his hand up, then pushes into your underwear. He could hardly fit, and you could feel the strain of the fabric trying to accommodate his pressence. Swallowing noisily, you buck to meet his fingers as they drag down your damp folds. Miles hid a smirk into the heel of his palm. He loved knowing he got you worked up.

There was a prod at your opening, his middle finger seeking entry. You clear your throat, widen your legs for him, and close your eyes as you feel the thick digit slip inside your little hole. Miles eagerly pushed knuckle deep, the tip of his finger bottoming out, making you clench around him and clear your throat again.

A few of the Recoms glance at you, and while your face was bright red, you smile.

"Sorry, tickle in my throat."

Miles chuckled, and the lingering stare from Wainfleet made you certain he knew. Maybe they all did. Supposedly, they all had impeccable hearing and sense of smell. You try to not worry about it, and focus on the massive finger that prodded and pushed inside your cunt.

The sensation was incredible, he reached places in you no human finger - or cock, for that matter - ever could. With a buck of your hips, you attempt to fuck yourself against him. Miles shifted under you, and you realized now you could feel the growing hardness between his legs.

Spurred by your canting, the Colonel began pumping his digit in and out of you, starting off slow. The drag of him against you made your body warm, and your stomach tighten. It was getting difficult to keep focused, especially when his heel pushed against your clit. You were rising fast, and the way your cunt bore down around his finger let Miles know how close you were.

Each pull and press of the Na'vi's thick finger made you quiver, his pad bumping your cervix and causing you to lurch in his lap. You knew the Recoms were pretending not to notice, and the fact they knew at all had you flustered. But that was his plan all along.

Sighing slowly, your small hand squeezes around the forearm stretched down your body as you begin to rock yourself steadily into him. If you had been paying attention, you'd have noticed Mansk and Wainfleet's ears twitching and perking at the subtle sound of your cunt slicking. Miles rumbled in his chest, satisfied that you were coming undone in his lap.

When the pressure became too much and the heat coiled up your vertebrae so suddenly, you saw stars. With every ounce of self-respect left within you, your hands clap over your mouth. The orgasm was strong, body shaking. You shudder and roll your hips as your cunt bears down around his finger. It grips at him in desperate, fluttering motions, as pleasure rattles through your core.

Miles smirks again, pumping the digit a couple more times for good measure before slowly pulling it out and wiping off on your panties. He gives your thigh a 'good job' pat before you fumble to fix your clothes. You could feel the smug aura wafting from him, and grit your teeth.

Revenge was a bitch, and you were certain you'd make him pay.

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varianvicissart · 2 years

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EXHIBITION-ISM To want an exhibition and to want people to see your art, yet pretending to be so humble and self-sufficient that you don't really care. To want to be wanted, even loved, and yet pretending not to need anyone. To want to be seen and acknowledged, and yet pretending that you are enough just to yourself. To harbor secrets and yet to want everyone to know them, so you can finally be free. Every exhibition-ist needs a voyeur, every spectacle needs spectators ... the see-er the seeing and the being seen are one.

#exhibition #contemporary art #secret #art #artist #art writing

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baphometbarbie · 1 month

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"All hardline politics, through militantism rather than the left-right tired paradigm, stem from sexual disorder.

Liberalism from pederasty, fascism from macho homosexuality, anarchism from perversion and voyeurism, online trad-ism from gynophobia and porn addiction, tumblrism from narcissistic sexual frustration, etc etc."

#txt #political theory #freudian ?#not mine #psychosexual disorder #radical politics

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niobefurens · 1 year

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Censory Deprivation.

Why stop at fatness? If you are going to put a red pen through Roald Dahl—as his publisher, Puffin, did recently—there are so many better bits to choose. The sensitivity readers contented themselves with excising such words as “fat”, “flabby”, “ugly” and “Kipling”. But Dahl doesn’t merely offer sexism, racism and colonialism; in his adult fiction you can find sins so frankly filthsome and swigpilling there has yet to be an -ism coined to cover them. There is violence, voyeurism and an unforgettably frightsome story in which a scorpion collector accidentally has sex with a leper. Not for nothing did his family call him “Roald the Rotten” and—more bluntly—“Roald the Bastard”. Listen to this story.

Something seems to be changing in British publishing. You can see it in the sheepish announcement from Puffin after news of its edits prompted a backlash, that Roald the Revolting will still roll off the presses unaltered, alongside the works of Roald the Redacted. You can see it, too, in almost-silenced books that are now thriving. “Time to Think”, a book by Hannah Barnes about the Tavistock’s gender-identity clinic in London, which referred children as young as nine for puberty blockers, was rejected by 22 publishers. Swift Press, a nimble newcomer, took it on and it made the bestseller lists. People in the industry suggest that the red pen is being wielded less freely. As one publishing executive puts it, there is a sense that things “had gone too far”. (Though since this person did not want to be quoted by name, not far enough.)

A change is overdue. The editing of Dahl by Puffin, an imprint of Penguin, was a symptom of something frogglehumping in the publishing world, but far from the only one. Authors have been dropped; books have been buried; people have lost jobs; sensitivity readers have been employed to ensure modern morals are adhered to. James Bond has even been edited to make him less vile—the literary equivalent of trying to make water less wet.

There is a line of argument that says that this isn’t really a problem. Suppression of speech, this argument runs, is the preserve of totalitarian, Orwellian-style states and institutions that use force to stop people speaking out. In a country like Britain, speech is still free. This is pure gobblefunk and Orwell’s “1984” is the wrong Orwellian work to understand why.

Better by far to turn to an introduction Orwell wrote for “Animal Farm”. Orwell had finished his satire on the Soviet Union—which many consider his masterpiece—in 1943, whereupon it was promptly rejected by four publishers. As with Ms Barnes’s 22 rejections, some offered reasons. One publisher pleasingly suggested Orwell might want to rethink the pigs. Having swine as the ruling class might “give offence…particularly to anyone who is a bit touchy, as undoubtedly the Russians are”. Orwell kept the pigs; “Animal Farm” sold half a million copies in two years.

He later reflected on all this in that introduction. There is, he wrote, a “veiled censorship” in British publishing. “At any given moment there is an orthodoxy, a body of ideas which it is assumed that all right-thinking people will accept without question.” It is “not exactly forbidden to say this, that or the other, but it is ‘not done’ to say it”. Anyone who tries to do so “finds himself silenced with surprising effectiveness”. They still do. A book on colonialism by Nigel Biggar, an emeritus professor of theology at Oxford University, was welcomed by its publisher, Bloomsbury, as a work of “major importance” and then postponed, apparently indefinitely, because “public feeling…does not currently support the publication of the book”. It is now out under a different publisher.

What is striking is how apparently mild the sanctions are for speaking out. People think, as one author puts it, that you are afraid of Twitter death threats. You aren’t: what really terrifies you is that your colleagues will think a little less of you. Most people do not require the threat of being burned at the stake to shut them up; being flamed by their peers on Twitter is more than enough.

This is true of more typically Orwellian states, too. When Anne Applebaum studied the Sovietisation of central Europe, the historian found political conformity was “the result not of violence or direct state coercion, but rather of intense peer pressure”. Publishing, an industry in which every third person is called Sophie, seems particularly susceptible to such pressure.

All this involves no laws, no police, nor even any obvious threats. Polite people write polite emails and books are politely buried. “The sinister fact about literary censorship in England”, Orwell wrote, “is that it is largely voluntary.” To go against that ominously amorphous “public feeling” is deeply uncomfortable. Ms Barnes found writing her book about the Tavistock’s clinic hard not because she thought it was wrong but because “I thought: ‘People are not going to like me.’” Publishers are equally nervy. In the name of looking likeable they panic and pre-empt offence: they cull the pigs; drop the book on colonialism; cut the foulsome bits.

The problem with all this nervousness—this desire-to-look-nice-ness—is that it has very nasty results. In “Fahrenheit 451”, a novel by Ray Bradbury, a society has taken to burning all books lest any cause offence. As one character explains: “Don’t step on the toes of the…second-generation Chinese, Swedes, Italians, Germans, Texans, Brooklynites, Irishmen….” This book-burning wasn’t mandated by the government. “There was no dictum, no declaration, no censorship to start with, no! Technology…and minority pressure carried the trick.” Now the books have all gone. Now “thanks to them, you can stay happy all the time.”

Penguin, incidentally, offers an audiobook of “Fahrenheit 451”. Perhaps its executives might be encouraged to listen to it before they get their red pens out. Then again, they might be tempted to edit it as well; after all, Puffin took the words “Japanese” and “Norway people” and “Yankee-Doodles” out of Dahl. Best be sure we can all stay happy all the time. ■

#censure #sensitivity #roald dahl #orwell #bradbury

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frenchfrywrites · 2 years

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Ecto-gasm

MINORS DNI

I got an anon in my inbox (that I accidently deleted, whoops!) requesting a fic, saying they were haunted by afab Lucifer... I took haunting literally.

Warnings: amab top GN reader, ghost bottom transman Lucifer, monsterfucking, voyeurism, cunnilingus, Lucifers genitals are referred to with the terms cunt and clit

Once you settled into your new home, you started to take note that strange things have been occurring. Things move when you’re not looking, music plays at odd times during the night, your TV turns on randomly, you hear whispers before you’re about to sleep, the lights flicker, there's cold spots, and you catch glimpses of someone who’s not there- who should not be there. Clearly, you’ve got a ghost on your hands.

Luckily for you the spirit doesn’t seem malicious in the slightest; despite the strange happenings, you’re never actually scared for your safety. Rather, it’s almost comforting to know there’s another presence with you, on those nights when your loneliness seeps deep into your psyche. You actually find yourself wishing the ghost would be more visible and active.

A month in, you invest in a ouija board. You tell yourself you’re just curious, but deep down you know you’re lonely and maybe the ghost could be friendly if you got to know it. Your reasoning isn’t sound, and in the back of your mind you think back on the horror movies you’ve seen, and consequently come up with a million and one ways this could go horribly wrong. However, that doesn’t stop you from sitting on your living room floor on a Saturday night, some candles lit, a bottle of wine next to you as you stare tepidly at the board in front of you.

You clear your throat awkwardly, placing your fingers on the planchette. “Um,” you start, “hello?” It hits you now that you have no idea how to talk to a ghost. “Is there a ghost here?” you ask, but you recall that sometimes they don’t know they’re dead, “wait- I mean, is there someone here?” This is not a good start.

Still, you wait patiently, feeling your confidence dissipate with each passing moment. After a good 10 minutes you sigh, disappointed but not surprised. You remove your hands, opening the bottle of wine and pouring yourself a glass. A scraping sound distracts you.

You look down to see the planchette moving on its own. The first thought that passes through your mind is that they’re not supposed to do that, the second is holy shit the ghost is here. You wait with bated breath as you watch it slowly move, your hands shaking and heart beating so loud you can hear it pounding in your ears.

It moves to the sun: yes. You laugh, shock and delight from this truly surreal moment causes tingles to ripple throughout your body.

“Oh my god, hi-” you laugh again, “hi ghost, what’s your name?” you set down the bottle of wine you were holding, taking a sip from your glass as you watch the planchette move.

L-U-C-I-F-E-R it spells out, with little to no pause between letters.

Oh shit. Your face pales as fear takes over. “Luh-” your throat feels dry but you don’t think to take another drink, “like Satan?” the planchette jolts quickly across the board to the moon: no. You sigh, relieved. “Whew, I thought I was talking to something far more frightening than a ghost,” you tell Lucifer.

W-O-N-T the planchette pauses for a moment so you recognize this as a word. H-U-R-T another pause. Y-O-U.

You laugh- feeling a little delirious, “good to know. I’ll hold you to that, Lucifer.” Now that you’re less terrified you remember that an introduction goes two ways, so you tell Lucifer your name. “You know you’re dead right?” you ask, making sure, even though you’ve called him a ghost a few times already. The planchette moves to the sun. “Good, I didn’t want to be the one to break the news.” You swirl your wine, thinking of another question. “How long did you live?”

3-2

You hum, “I’m sorry,” you feel your heartstrings being pulled at, emotional over the death of someone you never knew.

I-T pause O-K pause D-O-N-T pause B-E pause S-A-D

Your lips curl into a smile despite yourself. “You’re sweet,” you sip from your glass to hide the fact that you’re blushing from the words of a ghost. “May I ask, how long did you live here?”

The night continues, you asking Lucifer questions and waiting patiently for him to answer, telling him a bit about your life in return. You want to talk to him forever, but you feel your eyelids drooping in the early morning, the desire to sleep working against every bit of you.

S-L-E-E-P

Lucifer spells before you can ask another question. “Alright, alright… can I-” you’re interrupted by a yawn, “can I talk to you again later?” The planchette goes to the sun. You smile involuntarily,“good night then, Lucifer.” With that, you clean up the board, put away your wine, and head to bed. The last thought in your brain before drifting off is that you hope this wasn’t a dream.

It definitely wasn’t.

The sunday morning following, after your shower, you find “good morning” with a small heart drawn on the mirror.

“Good morning Lucifer,” you call, hoping he’s heard you, wherever he may be.

He continues to leave you messages on your mirror in the week following, along with doing other little things to let you know he’s there. He left you a small flower on your dining room table on Tuesday, on Wednesday night he turns off the lights for you so you don’t have to get out of bed, and on Friday just before you fall asleep you swear you hear him whisper “good night.” In return you’ve started talking aloud, telling him about your day, complaining about coworkers, informing him about your thoughts on the latest movie you watched, anything that comes to mind.

One week turns to two, then weeks turn to a month, and the months add up. You’re happier than you’ve been in a long time, and you’re certainly not lonely anymore. Your best friend commented on your heightened mood, claiming you must have a secret lover, which caused you to flush a bright red. How could you tell them the reason for your disposition is the semi-flirty, very nice ghost inhabiting your home?

Their words stick with you. Lucifer, your secret lover? The thought of that being a reality makes your heart flutter and your stomach turn inside out. You feel delusional and childish, but that doesn’t stop the thoughts.

You thought your mind was consumed with thoughts of Lucifer before, but thinking of him as your lover has really made itself home in your mind. While you're cooking, before you fall asleep, while doing work in your office… and now, when you're in the shower. You find yourself thinking back to the picture you found after you’d learned his name and researched your home’s previous owners. You flush, at your memory of the picture, and from the fantasies that come along with it.

Distracted by your thoughts you misstep and lose your balance, crying out and extending your arms, preparing for impact- that never comes.

Instead you feel cool, soft hands holding you up, preventing you from crashing your skull into the shower floor. Hesitantly you open your eyes and see nothing. Immediately your brain registers that the very man consuming your thoughts is your savior. “Thank you,” you express easily after regaining your footing, his hands still gripping onto you firmly; it comes naturally, your brain only halfway registering what’s going on. When both your feet and head are grounded, a thought comes to you. How did he know to catch you? “Lucifer?” his grip loosens a bit, “were you watching me in the shower?”

The air around you gets cold, despite the heat from the shower. His hands leave you, causing you to make a soft sound of distress

“Sorry” he writes on the steamy glass.

“It’s ok!” you reassure hastily, “um… it’s ok.”

Lucifer draws a “?” on the glass.

“It’s just, I don’t mind you watching is all… I uh-” this doesn’t feel real, “I like you watching” you emphasize. Perhaps you’re digging your own grave here (which seems inappropriate to think, considering the whole ghost thing), but your confession is heartfelt. His hands reappear on your shoulders and the cold spot dissipates. You watch, entranced, as a figure starts to take shape.

“May I,” oh god, you can hear his voice.

A million thoughts rush through your head as you clearly hear him speak. Maybe Lucifer didn’t catch you. Maybe you fell and hit your head and you’re bleeding out, and in your last moments of consciousness your brain is attempting to process the fact that you have a crush on a ghost.

“May I kiss you?” His words break you out of your spiral. You blink at the semi-transparent man in front of you. He looks exactly like the picture you saw, and you almost laugh at the fact that he has clothes on in the shower.

Finally your brain processes what he’s said and you nod dumbly, “yes, please.” Lucifer flickers a bit, becoming more opaque, before leaning in to press a chaste kiss onto your lips. He’s so soft, or maybe fuzzy is the word you’re thinking of, and when you clumsily (you’re still processing all of this so your brain and body are having a hard time connecting) wrap your hands around his waist you find his whole body feels like this. He pulls back first,

“Ah sorry,” his eyes scan your body, causing you to flush, “I didn’t imagine our first kiss would go like this, with you… uhm… in this state of undress.” You laugh at his choice of words. ��Though,” he lowers his lids, his hands moving from your shoulders to your chest, “I won’t complain.”

Rather than reply you lean in for another kiss, biting on his bottom lip so he opens his mouth for you. Lucifer moans, stepping closer into your personal space so he can press himself against you. His mouth is wet, like any humans, though his spit is more syrupy. Hopefully ectoplasm- which is what you assume his body is running on from the movies you’ve seen, is safe for human consumption. The kisses come one after the other, messy and desperate as you both indulge in the new sensations.

The water turning cold makes you pull back. Lucifer follows, a whine bubbling out of him, as he tries to kiss you again.

“Cold,” you express, shivering to prove your point. Lucifer bites his lip, nodding and flickering away. You frown, afterall it wasn't exactly your intention for him to leave. Slowly you get out and dry off, heading to your room, so you can jerk off all the pent up sexual tension in you.

Upon entering you grab your lube then flop on your bed, closing your eyes as you try to remember the way he felt, the way he sounded. Coating your hand in lube you stroke yourself until you’re fully hard.

“I take it-” you hear Lucifer’s voice suddenly, in your right ear.

“AH JESUS CHRIST!!” you cry, shooting your eyes open and jerking away from him. Lucifer- who is somewhat transparent but almost wholly there, looks entirely too pleased, grinning at you wickedly.

“I was saying,” he crawls between the space between your spread legs, “I take it you warmed up?” His hands rub your thighs softly as he becomes fully opaque. Your cock twitches,

“Yeah,” he hums, pleased at your answer. Pushing himself forward, Lucifer uses your thighs as leverage so he can kiss you again. You grab him by the turtle neck that he’s wearing, pulling him closer. One of his hands moves from your thighs to your cock, stroking at the same pace you were earlier. You break the kiss,

“Can you- would you get naked?” you ask, feeling it’s unfair that you’re the only one nude, and vaguely wondering what the deal is when it comes to ghost clothes. He nods, closing his eyes and flickering in and out of sight before returning again, this time fully undressed. You smile, pressing a kiss to his lips to show your appreciation. The kiss is short lived, as you want to take in his figure. He’s gorgeous (not surprising), and you can’t keep your hands off him.

You start feeling up his chest, stroking the faded scars there, then pinching his nipples gently. He lets out a soft “ah,” as he arches into your touch. Continuing to let your hands wander you smooth your palms against his tummy, then down to his thighs. One of your hands reaches out to stroke his hardened clit with care.

“Harder,” he whines, grinding himself against your hand. You oblige, reaching lower to collect some of his discharge (ectoplasm?) and using that as a makeshift lube to quickly stroke him from tip to base.

Lucifer returns the favor, taking you in his hand once again, “I want,” he starts, cutting himself off with a moan, “I want you inside of me, please?” Pre bubbles from your head at his words,

“Yeah, of course, let me unh, stretch you out.” You remove your hand from his clit to reach for the lube, though his discharge (again, ectoplasm?) is copious, he likely needs something more. Lucifer shakes his head, and raises so he can align your cock with himself,

“I don’t need it,” he grabs you to rub your head against his entrance,

“What? No, you-”

“Ghosts don’t feel pain,” he explains with a soft scoff, though his voice is full of bemusement. “Plus, the slick does it’s job,” he continues.

“Oh,” is all you can manage because then he’s sinking down on your cock. Your hands shoot to his hips, helping guide him down slowly. He might be alright with no prep but you’re hanging by a thread. He’s so tight, and that fuzzy feeling that occurred when he was touching you in his semi-transparent form engulfs you fully. You open your eyes- unsure of when you closed them, and look down.

You can see your dick inside him. Not like a tummy bulge, no you can literally see, through the semi see-through state of his stomach, your cock. “Fuck, oh fuck, Lucifer,” you whine, thrusting into him compulsorily.

“Yesss” he hisses, running a normal looking hand over his stomach- you note that it’s only chest down that’s taken on a more ghost like state. “Oh yes, look at you,” he whispers, letting out a soft moan of your name as he starts moving. You hold onto his hips for dear life, concentrating on not cumming, because you’re almost entirely certain that you’re going to, any second now.

Lucifer starts stroking his clit as he rides you, his cunt fluttering around you even though you can only barely see him now. His other hand grasps desperately at your chest, so he can stabilize himself better. With each passing moment he seems to disappear more and more, and the fuzzy softness of him grows and grows.

“You fuh-feel so good, unh I’m going to cum hah already,” he confesses with a soft breathless laugh.

“Me too,” you lean in for another messy kiss, because if you keep looking at your dick through him you'll end up climaxing far faster than you want. You thrust your hips up to get him off quicker, causing Lucifer to let out sweet little "ah, ah, ah's" against your lips.

"Cumming, cumming" Lucifer whines against your lips, twitching and shuddering atop of you. Discharge (ectoplasm???) accumulates as he squeezes around you, hand curling against your chest.

"Can I-" you begin, just barely holding your orgasm off,

"Yes, inside, cum, please," Lucifer begs, reading your mind. You don't need any further permission, cumming inside him and watching the way your cum shoots into his body. You fuck him through your orgasm, watching him intently as you do.

Once you stop fucking Lucifer it takes a hot second but his body returns to full visibility, and as soon as it does he slowly pulls himself off of you. He flops down next to you, so you turn to face him. He smiles softly, leaning in to kiss you.

Lucifer's kisses tend to leave you breathless, likely because he doesn't need to breathe so he can't ascertain when you need it. This means you’re the one pulling back first.

“You should let me eat you out,” you say, largely just thinking aloud. Lucifer hums, running a hand along your chest,

“I’d like that,” he blinks up at you lazily. You grin, pecking him on the lips, then pull back before he can trap you in another endless kiss. He goes to move, likely thinking he’ll be doing the work again, but you push him back gently so he falls against the pillows.

“Let me take care of you, yeah?” you settle yourself between his legs, looking up to see him biting his lips. He might’ve blushed- had he the blood to do so.

“Alright,” he agrees softly, getting comfortable in his position.

You run your hands along his thighs, salivating as you watch some of your cum drip out of him. Deciding to not waste any more time you lean forward, kissing his semi erect clit sweetly, then moving lower to roll your tongue along his hole. You clean up any of the cum that seeped out, then push your tongue into him, reveling in the way Lucifer whines and moans as you do. He starts to get wet as you eat him out, the gooey substance that you’re almost 100% certain is ectoplasm now that you have it in your mouth. It doesn’t taste like discharge, rather it’s a bit sweeter and more viscous. And he certainly produces more of whatever this is than anyone would with discharge.

You’re trying to slurp up most of the ectoplasm he’s making, but it’s a lot and it dribbles down your chin as you get sloppier and messier. You pull your head back for a second, to gauge how he’s doing. Lucifer’s hands are wound tight in the sheets under him, his eyes locked on you. You hold eye contact as you take his clit into your mouth, sucking and swirling your tongue around it. Lucifer gasps, pushing his hips into your face,

“I’m going to,” he pants for air, shaking from the pleasure you give him with your mouth, “cum. I’m going to cum,” he warns. You hum, acknowledging his words then switching your attention back to his hole while bringing a hand from his thigh to his clit to continue simulating him there.

There’s no question as to when Lucifer cums a second time. He clenches around your tongue, one thigh pressing against your head as you hold the other down, squirting all over your face while he cries out your name. You work him through it, swallowing as much of his liquid as possible, practically drowning in it (you’re allowed to be a bit dramatic about it considering there is a lot coming out of him right now).

You pull back when Lucifer eases under you, uttering a soft “stop,” as he does. When you pull away your face feels wet and sticky. Despite this you lick your lips before going in for a kiss. He stops you before you can, hand on your cheek.

“I think you’re going to need another shower,” Lucifer comments with a grin, wiping some of his goo from your face with his other hand. “And maybe I should join you,” he tries- and fails, to hold back a grin, “just to make sure you don’t fall again,” you roll your eyes at his teasing.

“I feel like that’s an excuse, you just want to make out in the shower again,” you claim. Lucifer smirks, shrugging his shoulders as he begins to fade,

“Perhaps it is. Though, I think you should meet me in the bathroom to find out,” he provokes, disappearing from under you. You laugh, hopping out of your bed and rushing to the bathroom to see what he has in store for you next.

#'cw monsterfucking'#rq #om! lucifer #obey me!#om!#spice #ok hiding this in the tags but im so scared this is bad and that i lost my sparkle after finals 😭 plz be nice to me if this sucks 🥺#although i will give myself kudos where its due that title is so funny and im very proud of it hehehe #ghosting #voyeur/ism #tw monsterfucking #'cw cunnilingus'

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tawneybel · 4 years

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Imagine Eric walking in on you and Peter having your first time. It’s pretty obvious you’re both virgins so your trainer decides to stay and show you what to do.

“Come on, stop playin’ with each other.”

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bokutoslittlebird · 2 years

Text

Welcome Home

Kaeya x Ragnvindr!reader + Diluc

Warnings: female genitalia, she/her pronouns used as well as mentions of being a “woman” and “mother”, canon-divergence, I have no clue how healers actually work just go with it, spoilers for Diluc and Kaeya’s story, angst, incest, grieving, unhealthy coping mechanisms, alcohol/ism, dubcon/noncon/under the influence sex, fingering, f. oral receiving, mentions/implied m. oral receiving, mating press, creampie, voyeurism, m. masturbation

A/N: This starts with Crepus’ death, so it’s heavy angst for the majority of the fic, sorry. The smut is mostly at the end.

The fateful day of your son’s birthday was one of pain and grief rather than celebration and joy. Had you been feeling more like yourself, you’d have been in the crossfires and possibly ended up the same way with your beloved, but the Anemo Archon had different plans for you.

Hearing Diluc and Kaeya come back with the others, you went out to greet them, but found yourself unable to smile nor speak when you saw the dark shadow covering their faces, Diluc missing. As Kaeya began to apologize, his voice hushed as if he was whispering, your steps were heavy as you tried to go down the stairs. Yet, you didn’t make it, collapsing on the intermediate platform, your strength leaving you as Adelaide and another maid came to your form, trying to help you up. The Knights of Favonius had also come to the manor, holding your complete attention as you tried to muster up the words you were dreading to speak, yet you needed the answer.

“Where… is my husband?” Your mouth was dry and tears had begun to blur your vision, threatening to fall had you received a devastating answer. Kaeya couldn’t speak, though he stood with the knights, his own face trying to not cry as he looked away from you, so a fellow knight stepped forward, his steps slow and gentle.

“Mrs. Ragnivindr,” the knight said, a frown prominent on his face as he looked down at you. Kneeling down, he took your hand, shaking as you feared what he’d say, but he tried to soothe your nerves. Nothing could have soothed your emotions with his next words. “He’s passed on.”

The wail from you had maids swarming to your crumpled form, the knight himself apologizing profusely as tears left his own eyes. Though he had no ties to your family, the raw emotion in your cries hit hard and deep, even the other knights had to look away from the scene. The cries and wails from your body seemed to echo in the manor, further proving your grief as nobody else was with you, making the manor seem even more gloomy than it had upon the arrival of the Knights.

It was a hassle, but the maids had finally gotten you on your feet, guiding you to the bedroom you’d be able to rest and grieve properly in. Even if it’d be a cold bed tonight, you needed to be in the room and left alone. The knights had offered to fetch Diluc, as Crepus was as dear to him as he was to you, but Kaeya was there for you, helping you up the stairs as tears streaked down his own face, but he kept from sobbing. He wouldn’t lose his composure completely until the doors had shut, you both holding each other as the sobs were no longer stifled and the heavy truth settled in, the cold claws of loneliness creeping into your bones.

Though the sobbing tired you out, you didn’t loosen your grip on Kaeya, keeping him close throughout the night as he found it hard to sleep, keeping your warm body close as he felt guilt gnaw at his skin, the urge to spill the truth bubbling up in his throat, but he didn’t. Which truth did he want you to know? That he felt as though he’s betrayed his family and friends? The truth of where he’s from? The fact that he saw Crepus’ body dissolve into the air right before his and Diluc’s clear eyes? He didn’t know which guilt was gnawing at him, he didn’t dwell on it too long, finding himself in your warm arms that held him so dearly for so long that brought him comfort, lulling him to sleep one more time.

The morning only came with a gloom that carried over, as Kaeya had left the bed when you had arisen, the bed being cold with no sign of you sharing it with someone. That single thought brought back the memories of last night, your grief only beginning anew as you felt tears bubble over and slip down your cheeks. A maid was in your room soon enough, letting you hold her as you cried and heaved, snot and tears staining her dress and gibberish whispered from your trembling lips. As you finally settled down, your body exhausted from another intense crying session, you felt your heart squeeze at the reminder you still haven’t seen Diluc, your head leaving the maid’s chest as you wiped away tears.

Taking the offered handkerchief, you give a few more sniffles before she asks if you want a bath or would just like to change clothes. “N-No, I’m fine with just changing clothes. I haven’t seen Diluc, do you know where he’s been?” Her face made you feel the urge to puke, the saddened face as you think that Diluc, your bright and wonderful son, had perished beside his father.

Seeing your tears begin to sprout, she shakes her head. “He went to the Knights’ Headquarters last night, but he’s been avoiding talking to anyone. Even Adelaide and Kaeya are unable to talk to him, so Kaeya left to ask the Knights what had happened last night. He should be back tonight,”

“Oh, god,” you placed a hand over your heart, feeling it beat rapidly. “I began to believe I had two bodies to bury,”

“Oh, you.. you wouldn’t have heard yet, would you?” Her face made bile rise in your throat, fearing what she’d say next. “The Master’s body… has disappeared.”

The beginning of a long time of grief has finally begun, but it began with heavy tears and sleepless nights. Diluc was indeed avoiding people, only acquiescing your demands to talk to inform you of his decision and the truth. You didn’t hear the ugly truth of the Knights but you heard that Crepus’ body had indeed dissolved in Diluc’s arms, getting you to once more lose composure, though Diluc was there to hold you and rub your back, attempting to calm you down. As well as attempting to reason why he’s going to leave you.

“I need to know the truth. You understand, don’t you? You’re my mother, you told me yourself how important it was for me to never waver my sense of justice,”

“I did, I told you to stick to your wits, but I didn’t tell you to die while attempting to uphold your sense of justice! Diluc, my love, I can’t even bury your father and you want me to risk not being able to bury my own child? What kind of mother would I be if I sat to the side and let you go?”

“One who believed in her son,”

“People won’t speak of me so kindly, no matter what my image is. Harsh whispers behind closed doors can spread like wildfire if people find it tantalizing enough,”

“My decision is set. Please,” Diluc’s hand clasps yours, something cold moving from his warm hands into yours. Bringing his forehead to yours, he whispers the last bit. “Please, keep this safe for me. I promise I’ll be back,”

You could only nod, seeing the bright red glow from your hands, the heat spreading through your body just from holding the vision between your palms. Leaving his vision behind would mean he’d need to be back for it, but another part of your mind urged you to still fight for him to stay. If the unspeakable happened… you’d have something. It’s the only thing you can think of, but you also tell yourself to trust him, as he’s always showed he can prosper when his passion burns.

That night, Diluc plans to leave, while you stay bundled up in your room. The maids bring food to your room, letting you eat at the small table in the corner. It’s a tea table, put in there so you could drink tea or wine while reading as Crepus did paperwork, letting you two bask in each other’s company while doing your own thing. You fear it’ll come to collect dust, as you don’t need to sit in the room to read anymore.

Your thoughts are shattered when the front door bangs against the wall, hearing Adelaide scream Kaeya’s name. Running to the balcony, you see Adelaide and a couple of other workers standing in front of the open door, rain hitting the road heavily as some droplets soak the interior carpet. “Is he-?”

“Ma’am, it’s no need for concern. Diluc left without telling Kaeya, so Kaeya ran after him,” Adelaide manages to answer your question from so far below, practically out of earshot. Bowing slightly, she apologizes for startling you. “He was well underdressed for such harsh rain conditions,”

“O-Oh,” you nod, giving a shaky, forced smile. “Is that so? I didn’t.. uh, I didn’t expect Kaeya to be here yet. He mentioned working late tonight,” you say what Diluc told you, briefly, before you finally left him to finish packing.

“He had just arrived back home, but plans abruptly changed, as you can see. I’ll make sure to send him up to see you when he gets back,” Adelaide said, watching as you hesitantly nod, hands clammy as you let go of the railing. An illogical part of your brain tells you to follow Kaeya’s example, running into pouring down rain and muddy roads to catch up to Diluc, your worry for your son coming back. You know nothing will come of it, so you bury that feeling down, slowly going back into the room. Digging your nails into your skin, you bite your lip as tears threaten to fall again.

You just feel grateful when Kaeya finally comes back, hearing commotion outside before it goes almost quiet. Peeking from the door, you see a butler and maid shrugging as Adelaide pounds on Kaeya’s bedroom door, listening for information. That small feeling of relief deflates, feeling as though another bad thing has happened, though you think it to only be he’s as upset as you about everything. Opening the door more, the maid alerts Adelaide, curtsying as you leave the room. “How about I talk to him? He is my son,” you say, voice gentle. You didn’t intend to make it seem like you’re going to soothe pain, but rather crying has ripped your voice mostly from its chords.

Turning to the door, you gently knock your knuckles against the frame. “Kaeya, darling, please talk to me. Is everything okay?”

“It’s— it’s fine, I just needed some alone time,” he says, but he sounds like he’s in pain.

Turning to the entourage outside his door, you ask them to give you two a moment, leaving you alone the door. “Will you let me in?” Shuffling is heard, but no answer. You think he’ll stay behind the door, but a small click catches your attention. Trying the knob, it turns and the door creaks open.

“Don’t be startled,” he practically begs. “Please,”

“Kaeya, why-!” Your gasp of surprise ends your sentence, looking to see the blood soaked clothes tattered against his shoulder, other bits of his clothing shredded on the floor in the same dark liquid. “What happened?” You make sure to shut the door, guiding Kaeya to his bed and trying to look at the wound.

“I- Diluc and I got into a fight,” his voice is quiet, like he regrets it. “He was really angry,”

“Everyone’s in pain, but I think he’s hurting the most. What he did to you isn’t deserved, but I bet he’s feeling as guilty for this as you feel about the fight,” you sigh, noticing it looks as though the gash goes from his upper back to the middle, plus more scrapes and shallow cuts all over his body. “I’ll clean you up, but we need a healer. It’s very deep,”

“I can,” he grunts, even the slightest movement sending more blood gushing, “tell. I tried to freeze the blood, but I can’t do too much,” he sighs, looking down at the hand he wasn’t using to hold his arm, a pale blue glow coming from it. You knew it was a vision, and you wanted to congratulate and spoil him for getting it, but pressing matters came first.

“I’ll ask for Adelaide to get a healer from the church. You, on the other hand, will strip so I can see where I’m cleaning the dry blood from and able to handle the small cuts,” you firmly say, leaving the room. Kaeya smiles as you leave, a thumb running over the cold glass of his vision. He feels guilty for not spilling the truth once more, but he also feels grateful you didn’t ask. No matter of deterring Diluc’s adventure would call for him using his signature weapon to almost kill Kaeya, but no matter how illogical it was you didn’t question it.

After getting a healer, using his hydro vision to heal the deep wound, it was decided that taking a bath would help with the healing process. Though you cleaned up the surrounding area, the vision was able to close up the wound and only leave a large scar, though it was tender to touch. A warm bath would also help the tension in Kaeya’s muscles, letting him rest after so much had happened. You decided to be there to help Kaeya instead of someone else, as he couldn’t lift his right arm, so you two could properly talk. A nagging feeling ate at you, as if there was something deeper that Kaeya was keeping secret.

“You really don’t have to,” he gives a lopsided grin, moving the water with his hand. He hadn’t had someone help him bathe since he became a teen, so it’s odd having you help him.

“Oh, please, I used to bathe you all the time when you were just a little boy. You may be big now, but you’re still my little boy, deep inside,” you grin, kissing the top of his head, his hair rinsed of soap. He leans back a little, looking up at you. Aside from Crepus and Diluc, you were the only other person who has seen him without his eyepatch or something similar. You always thought his eyes were beautiful, though different from what you had seen before, with his hidden eye being a radiant gold. Brushing away some strands from his face, you kiss his forehead.

“Thanks for being there for me,” he smiles as he says it, no hidden secret seemingly guilt tripping him. You only give him a small laugh, running your fingers through his hair as you make sure it’s not tangled.

“We’ve gotta be there for each other, you know? Just us against the world, waiting for Diluc to come back,” you whisper the last bit, feeling guilty to bring him up. You don’t know the details, but perhaps mentioning the one who put Kaeya in such a bad situation would be a bit too salt in the wound right now. Even so, Kaeya mentions nothing and lets you continue to bathe him.

The days turned into weeks and those turned into months, the heavy grief that plagued you that night seemingly gone to the unsuspecting eye. Behind closed doors, though, the grief never left, it was heavy and nobody could help relieve your shoulders. In a moment of vulnerability, you turned to the bottle, drinking the delicious wine with your dinner and then more bottles after. You weren’t a very proper lady of the estate after too much alcohol, so you knew that after two bottles, it was time to continue in your bedchambers. Though you had gotten used to the lack of someone beside you, it was just as bitter as the day it began. Even then, you couldn’t bear the pain of loneliness on some nights, leaving your bedroom to find Kaeya.

Kaeya, who had planned to leave the estate and move closer to the city, after he was promoted to Cavalry Captain in Diluc’s absence. It was a bitter pill for him to swallow, the reasoning he rose in the ranks because of someone leaving. He didn’t leave, he could never truly bring himself to do so. He witnessed the full anguish you suffered at the news of your husband and then you struggled to not fall apart and break under pressure when Diluc also left. You were strong, but you had to be, dealing with the leftovers of running the winery and managing the estate, all while grieving in silence when your bedroom doors closed. Though, sometimes they opened again.

When you first came to his bedroom, it was a shock for him. So shocking, that he got ready to freeze the intruder before hearing your voice. Slurred words and mentions of still missing Crepus, wonders where Diluc ran off to and whether he was alive and fell from your lips, your nightgown swaying with your unsteady balance. He had attempted to get you to leave, but you were insistent on staying with him. Even in your drunken state, you didn’t want to be alone. Talking about how cold his room was, how you were surprised he was able to sleep, you only muttered your loneliness when he pushed you away.

He’s not going to lie, either, you coming to his room became one of the best parts of his day.

During the day, he was busy collecting evidence to use against Eroch after hearing about the traitorous tale he spun over Crepus’ death. It was something he owed to the man who raised him like he was his own flesh and blood, but also for Diluc’s sake. They had their falling out, they had their violent spat, but they were close growing up and Kaeya knew he needed to fix the Knights in Diluc’s absence. When he wasn’t dealing with that, he was visiting the tavern for shady dealings. Drunk men loosen their lips when they’re comfortable and Kaeya’s good at soothing them into a vulnerable state. It almost makes him laugh, thinking he manages to soothe you to vulnerability just as easily.

At night, he came home and knew that you needed company, his company. He craved yours more than anything, realizing just how much time you spent with your attention away from him versus on him over the years. Crepus was the darling of your eye, most of your attention diverted to him, while Diluc was your pride and joy, so it made sense he’d have to share your love with them. You didn’t ignore him, of course, but it felt nice that you wanted to be beside him and spend time with him, even if it was a risky night walk. You crawling into his bed was almost inevitable, if he wasn’t too tired to crash in your bedroom.

It began as him adoring the love you showered him with, knowing deep inside it was your way of dealing with the loss of two others dear to you. Despite feeling as though it was faked, though he knew it wasn’t, he kept up accepting the love, the spoils, the showering. Whether it was new clothing, his favorite meal, or even a new brew for him to test, he loved it all. Then it turned into something… darker. He no longer felt guilty or sad that you gave him affection so greedily, but rather upset that you did it because of someone else. His thoughts gnawed at him when you slept soundly on his chest or beside him, telling him that you should be thinking of him yet your last words are anything but. His relationship with you had started to change, warp, but you didn’t notice and you didn’t change.

The alcohol became as close to you as Kaeya was, as it started only being in your home until suddenly there was something to drink anywhere. You made sure you had a glass whenever you were out for too long, or slipping into the tavern for some wine, but never getting drunk until you were safely within the walls of the estate. Kaeya felt as though he was abusing your unhealthy coping habits, holding you in his arms as one would a lover, you completely vulnerable in his bed. Had the staff not known you or him better, he’s sure rumors would be spreading fast within a single day, maybe even just the night. Trying to keep the alcohol to a minimum wasn’t even an option, as you owned the winery and if you didn’t get your own substance, the other drunkards in taverns wouldn’t get theirs. It wasn’t an actual threat you made, but Kaeya heard the whispers among the maids when you couldn’t hear them, often when you were drinking in the study or your bedroom.

The night everything changed only added guilt to his high pile of sins, but a deeper part of him greedily accepted your advances.

Drinking was still quite common for you, but you had managed to not have as much on this specific day. Even with your dinner you only had a glass, but drank water once it emptied. Why weren’t you drinking as much? Because Kaeya’s birthday had come around once again, the second birthday you’ve shared with him without Crepus or Diluc. Last year, he wasn’t feeling in the spirit to celebrate as much, but neither were you, so it wasn’t a big celebration. This year, you all gathered in the estate to celebrate, toasting to another year to him and also having an excuse for a large banquet party once more.

Many times, parties were held here and each time you’d find fathers introducing themselves to Crepus and then their daughters, hoping good words would get a ring on their finger from your sons. Each time, though, both of them rejected, being far too busy for courting at the moment, making Crepus joke he’d never see his great grandchildren if the boys didn’t find someone they fancied eventually. It made you wonder if Kaeya had perhaps found someone, though there would be no reason to keep something so great from you, but you became curious about it as you revisited the old memories.

When everyone left, you went to Kaeya’s bedroom, bringing a bottle of his favorite wine variation as a late minute gift, though you gave him plenty at the actual celebration. Knocking on his door, he opened the door, already in his nightwear, his bangs covering his patchless eye. “Sorry, were you about to sleep? Didn’t mean to bother,”

“No, please, come in,” he gestures inside, of which you graciously accept. Though you’re aware you’re in the bedroom almost every night, you still find yourself surprised about how cold it is.

“I know I’ve mentioned it, but your room is always so cold,” you chuckle, sitting on the bed. Holding the bottle, you gently shake it and show him the glasses in your other hand.

“Well, call it a byproduct of my vision. Death After Noon, I guess? I didn’t know I’d get an even better present than what you already gave me,” he smirked, but it shifted into a genuine smile as he moved to sit next to you. “Thanks for everything,”

You giggle, nudging him. “You know you don’t have to be so formal whenever you get gifts from me. Such a proper attitude, it doesn’t suit you,” you mention, letting him pour the wine. You were a bit tipsy, you weren’t going to lie, unable to hold your empty glass steady for him to pour. “You’re too playful,”

“Playful? I’m a proper gentleman, I’ll have you know,” he laughs, putting the bottle to the side as you two begin to drink. It’s bitter and sweet all at once, but it’s heavy in alcohol content to the point you’ll be holding onto him completely drunk by the time you finish the glass. He’s aware of this, yet still poured you a little more than he should’ve, hoping you’ll end up sleeping in his arms sooner rather than later. He doesn’t have any ill intentions, he just relishes in your warm and loving embrace.

“A gentleman… yet has no woman to call his own. Any other gentleman would be engaged by now, before he gets too old,” you slur out, laughing at the way Kaeya’s face almost grimaces at your suggestion. “Maybe you’re not looking for a woman?”

“I haven’t been looking for anybody, if that’s what you’re suggesting. Far too busy to be socializing with people unless it’s for work,” he simply says, taking a sip. Though his face is calm, he’s definitely not calm on the inside. Why would you suddenly bring that up? It makes his face warm as sinful images flood his mind.

“I’m sure there are plenty of women,” you hiccup, giggling, “and men, if you’re looking, willing to be with the handsome cavalry captain,” you finish your sentence with a hiccup, signaling you’re definitely more than just a little tipsy. Kaeya can’t help but sigh a bit, your drinking habits lately making him feel guiltier each day.

A wistful sigh, he swirls the dark drink as he leans his elbows on his knees. “If only,” he mumbles, but you don’t hear it over your gulping of the drink.

“I’m done! Fill me up, Kaeya, please?” You lean against him, fluttering your eyelashes as you give a crooked smile. Thankfully, you’re drunk so his sputtering at your words is ignored, but he welcomes your warmth against him as he takes your empty glass, setting it on the table with the bottle.

“How about you take it easy? If it’s cold, we can go back to your room and rest. No need to over drink,” he suggests, placing his own empty glass down. You shake your head, grabbing his arm and pulling him back down. “Oh, come on,”

“No, no, it’s fine. We can make heat together so we can keep drinking. Drinking keeps the day fun and bright,” you slur, laying down on the bed. “This dress is so stuffy, I want it off,”

“Then we should go to your bedchambers! You can change there,” he once again suggests. You agree that time, but reach for the bottle. “Ah, ah, I think you’ve had enough,” he says, bringing you to his chest with a pull of your arm, changing your path off his bed into him.

“Maybe so, but who’s to say?” You rest your chin against his chest, looking up at him with lidded eyes. Pressed up against him and looking like that, he has to keep control of himself as he smiles, guiding you to your room as gentlemanly as possible.

Getting there is no problem, but getting you to let go is one. Refusing to let him leave, should he not come back, you keep a tight grip onto his clothes. “I can’t be in here while you change. It’s inappropriate,” he harshly whispers, but you’re unrelenting in your whines. Although his resilience is surprising, he doesn’t think he can handle your naked body before him, whether the situation is sexual or not. “I’ll be right outside,”

“No, no, no, Kaeya, please,” you beg, tripping over nothing when you sway against him. He begins to think he should be helping you, with you unsteady on an even floor. “What if I accidentally suffocate? You can’t leave me,” your loud whining gets him to quickly accept, shushing you.

“It’s late! You don’t want anyone to be disturbed from their slumber, do you?” He whispers, getting you shaking your head. Sighing, he goes to undo your dress, seeing as you just held out your arms, swaying a bit. His fingers tremble as each ribbon is loosened, the dress finally coming loose enough to slide down your shoulders. He’s behind you, so he doesn’t see your chest as the fabric falls down completely, pooling below. “I’ll loosen the undergarments, then get your nightgown. Don’t move,” he orders, hearing confirmation from you. It’s tempting to peek over your shoulder, easy to do on accident seeing as he’s taller than you, but he keeps his eyes trained on the bindings he needs to undo.

Once those are done, he completely unravels it and lets it go to fall, immediately turning to your dresser, unable to witness anymore of your naked body. Though you need to step out and pick everything up, you just kick it under the bed, deciding to deal with it in the morning. Kaeya gets your attention, holding up a baby blue nightgown, not looking in your direction. “Do you want to wear this one?”

“I don’t need it,” you say, climbing into the bed, pushing the covers away. “It’s Fine just like this,”

“You’re naked!” He almost yells, but instead whispers it harshly. Forgetting that you are indeed, naked, he turns around and has to struggle to not completely lose control at the sight of your ass in the air, bare completely, as you adjust the pillows. When you’re done, you sit against one side and pat the side next to you, smiling as you crook your finger for him to come closer. You’re so completely vulnerable, he can barely bring himself to blink, worried it’s all a dream. “What-!”

“Shh! Sleeping people in the house. Gotta be sneaky,” you hold a finger to your lips, getting up to move, but he goes to the side of the bed, trying to looking anywhere but at you.

“You need to cover up. It’s wrong for you to be so vulnerable with a man around,” he adds, thinking maybe you don’t see him as a man and that’s why your drunken haze has you crawling around naked.

“I haven’t been vulnerable with a man in a while, you know? Lonely nights with no one to please me,” you sadly murmur, almost whining at the words. “But I know someone who could,” you practically purr, grabbing his hand with the nightgown, bringing him into the bed, outfit forgotten.

It’s such a strange feeling, him being against your bare skin as you stroke his face, slurred words of love coming from you. He can’t properly decipher them, too focused on not completely drenching his pants from an unplanned orgasm. You’ve always been warm, but beneath the undergarments and elegant gowns, you’re so soft and plush, making it perfect for him to easily sleep on you. “I’ve been so desperate for someone, I’ve been tempted to look into hiring someone, but I know you’re lonely, too. Nobody to please you, either, yet you always seem satisfied when I come to you, so maybe I can please you,”

“Please, don’t,” he whispers, finding the strength to get off of you. You’re surprised and hurt, even frowning as he adjusts his position, though he doesn’t get off the bed. “I couldn’t bear the guilt of doing something so horrendous to you while you’re drunk. Whether you remember this tomorrow or not, I’d rather us only go that far, if you wanted to,” he quickly added, face hot as he tried to feign disinterest, “when you’re sober. I will give you something, I will sate your drunken lust, but I won’t penetrate you,” he sighs, looking at your face, hardly changed since he began his little speech. “You don’t understand, do you?”

“I do, I’m not that drunk,” you roll your eyes, laughing a bit, but you drop the smile when you see how serious he is. “Okay, I’ll be okay with just being close to you tonight,”

“Alright.” In all honesty, he’s surprised he’s held out this long. Between your spread legs, easily letting him gaze upon your naked body, he feels his pants get tighter with every inch he takes in. You’re as beautiful as he imagined, he just wishes you weren’t drunk so he could enjoy this to the fullest. He loves you, he knows that, and he deeply wants you, but he’d rather you love him like a son than hate him like a monster.

His hands are cold against your warm body, practically burning as he trails his hands from your shoulders and lower. You grin, using your own hands to keep one of his large ones against your breast, your legs wiggling as you watch him get closer to your untouched flower. Well, untouched by a man in over a year or longer. The feeling your wetness under his fingertips nearly had him busting, his pants becoming unbearably tight. Loosening them, only to release his cock, he had to stop your hand from touching it. “No, no, not now. It’s all about you right now. Just enough to get you to sleep.” Seeing you nod, he continues rubbing his finger against you, feeling you get wetter with each swipe of his finger against you. The coldness of his hands is a nice feeling against your skin, but his body is heating up real fast.

Precum seeps from his cock, but he doesn’t even think of touching it as he moves his thumb against your clit, watching your leg twitch at the small movement. With how drenched you are, he slips two fingers inside, surprised by how hot it is and how slippery it is. He’s no dunce, he knows how your body is supposed to work when aroused, but he never expected you to be so aroused by him… or the alcohol. The small thought of the alcohol making you so pliant has his eyes darkening as he scissors his fingers, getting a whimper from you at the movement. Deciding you’re fine with more fingers, he sticks a third inside and rubs against your walls, eager to hear more from you, though he’s ready to hush you as soon as your small whimpers and blissful sighs turn into something louder.

When he feels like his fingers can’t reach deep enough inside, he starts focusing on your clit, rubbing your arousal against it as he watches your face twist in pleasure, silent cries as you rapidly blink your eyes, rolling back as you reach for a pillow. Stopping for a moment, you get a chance to catch your breath as he adjusts his position, pushing one of your legs up to your face and spreading your pussy wide, letting him get complete access to it. If he can’t use his hands, he’ll use his mouth. Rubbing his cock with his drenched hand, he places his lips around your clit and sucks, pleased when you have to bite down on your hand to keep from screaming.

He doesn’t even need to add his tongue, lapping at the gushing you’re doing or swirling it around the perky bud, but rather just needs to suck on your clit enough times until you’re twitching putty in his arms. It’s not hard to do, making you so sensitive that the brush of his lips against your skin make you jerk, your legs falling slack. His own hand pumps his cock, moans vibrating against you as your silent screams come back, with shaky sighs wracking your body and tight grips on the sheets. It’s only a couple of minutes before you’re trembling beneath him as he feels his hand be painted in his own sticky cum, his face drenched with yours. He makes sure to lick up the excess around your pussy, even diving in for seconds between your folds and sucking your clit once more before bringing his kisses up higher.

Getting lost in his own mind, he stops before he goes too far, stopping below your breast, and finally dropping your leg. Moving to your face, he presses a kiss to your sweaty forehead. “That’s all for tonight,” he pants, exhaustion coming over him quickly. You nod, eyes finding it hard to stay awake. Kaeya sighs, but then gets up to clean himself, and you, off, before putting some clothes on you. Last thing he needs is a maid to see you sprawled out on the bed naked, knowing he was there.

When morning came, Kaeya fully expected insults thrown at him and to be disowned, sent away for crude, despicable acts. He slept soundly, but his mind was plagued with you. Waking up, as he still had his duty as a knight, he didn’t expect to see you also up early, chatting with Adelaide and a cup of tea in your hands. Well, he thinks it’s tea, as it’s too light to be wine and it’s in a teacup. “Good morning,”

“Good morning, Master Kaeya. Breakfast has been prepared,” Adelaide said, gesturing to the dining room where his usual breakfast sat. “Just served,”

“Thank you,” he doesn’t look towards you, rather finding his button oddly interesting, or even the small scuffle on his boot.

“Would you like some company for breakfast, Kaeya? I rarely get to see you off for work,” you say, a gentle tone in your voice. A glance lets him know you’re smiling.

“If you’re busy, no need, I know you have winery things to do,” he clears his throat, thinking it’s odd for him to speak so informally, but tries to not dwell on it.

“Well, it won’t go anywhere. Come, I haven’t had breakfast either,” you’re chipper, getting close to him and grabbing his arm. Had Adelaide not stood there, he’d be asking you many questions and also panicking, but he just nods and smiles, making small chitchat on the way. Adelaide has more important things beside eavesdrop on you two, so you’re both alone once in the dining hall, your plates beside each other. “You’re stiff,”

“Can you blame me? I’m unsure about what you’re doing,”

“Simple. I’m showing you I don’t need alcohol to show you some proper love,” your grin makes his face warm, a teasing grin that lets him know you remember everything from last night. “Don’t think about it too hard,”

“I can surely try, but I highly doubt I’ll be successful,” he practically groans, finally getting to his seat. Though he’s not scorned and kicked out, he doesn’t know if your attitude towards everything is what he’d want.

The lack of alcohol in your systems makes you act different, your normally relaxed and composed demeanor turned into something paranoid, anxious, and easily agitated. It’s so hard to just ignore the call of the sweet wine, you find yourself downing a bottle when you settle down to read in the library and another when you’re looking over paperwork before dinner. Your slightly happy demeanor and the emptied glass Kaeya sees when he gets home lets him know he won’t be exploring all the way tonight.

It’s disgusting, really, as he can barely even think properly because all he could think throughout the day is you’d look so good blissed out beneath him. He nearly had to take a break while clearing out a hilichurl camp because he was so caught up in his head thinking of you. Even the taste of you had him licking his lips when he thought about it, remembering you it felt when you were on his tongue. Positive you’d end up spreading your legs for him once more, he at least contented himself with that when he saw the wine you were drinking.

And he was right. You came to him, begging for his touch and he complied. Not just that night, but again and again and again. Each day you tried to not drink, but you couldn’t cut a habit so quickly and he refused to give you it all if you had a lick of alcohol in your system. No matter your tolerance, he refused. He didn’t mind your sloppy blowjobs or using his tongue on you, but he was hesitant of your cunt near his cock, worried you’d stick him inside while drunk. He even toyed with the idea of just rubbing himself between your folds, but he knew he’d be tempted and the accidental possibility of slipping in was a risk he wasn’t willing to take.

It was almost a year of this odd arrangement when it finally happened.

Your management with alcohol had diminished, you only drinking some with your dinner in the days leading up to it. The staff was almost as ecstatic as you, congratulating how far you’ve come. Kaeya was also there, smiling and hugging you, pressing a kiss to your forehead as you let a few tears slip out. It was hard, but you finally felt like the shackles of the past three years had loosened and released you. Of course, the look in Kaeya’s eyes when you managed to be able to not drink alcohol for the whole week, staying sober completely, made you forget why you needed the alcohol, focused on looking forward to that evening.

Three years of you two stuck together with nobody else and a whole year of you two having dirty secrets later, Kaeya’s crawling into your bed completely sober, and you welcome him completely of your own free will. The guilt of doing this will eat him up, but he knows that the guilt of doing anything to you drunk will outweigh it. You’re desperate for something to hold on to, even if it’s a replacement for the one you lost, and you struggled through your grief for it. In a way, you’ve traded one unhealthy coping mechanism for another, but Kaeya didn’t care. Finally having you stripped naked beneath him, he’s slow in stripping his own nightwear, finally being able to move past just using his hands and mouth.

“You don’t know how long,” he whispers, his mouth feverishly pressing against yours. Once he tasted your lips, it was a struggle to not press his own against them every chance he got. “How long I’ve wanted this,”

“No need to wait, no need to hold back,” you get out, craning your head back as his lips travel down your neck. He’s prepped you, of course, his fingers doing wonders below and his mouth pressing hot kisses to your already burning skin. There’s no need for him to wait another moment, his restraint finally able to snap as he spreads your legs, rubbing his cock against your dripping pussy. “Please,”

“Shh, I know, just let me enjoy this,” he mumbles, apologetic kisses against your cheeks and nose. He knows once he plunges in, he’ll never be able to be satisfied with just rubbing against you again. Pushing against you, he has to hold back a guttural groan at how you feel. You’re nice and snug, but not too tight it’d be painful, and you’re so slippery that he can hear the squelches by just sliding in a bit. He’s not even in all the way and he can feel you sucking him in even more, your eyes shut as you bask in the bliss of him inside. He feels bad, truly, but he was raised to keep his sense of justice and morals, so he refused to let it waver just for a moment of pleasure. Though, from the way you’re looking, he has a feeling it’ll be a lot more than just a couple of moments for the two of you.

Even bottoming out inside can’t be enough, feeling himself drag out of you when your body refuses to let him go easily. It’s like your whole body wanted him, but he can’t deny he’s wanted you just as badly. Sleepless nights of thinking he should just go a little further prove that you plague his waking thoughts, his body yearning for yours. The way your nails rake against his shoulders and down against his chest solidify that he’s doing this, your body in pleasure because of him. He’s done so much work to get here, finally reaping the rewards of his work.

Slamming his hips against yours has you both seeing stars, your hand clasping over your mouth as a moan rips from you. Even though you’ve both managed to make it this far intimately doesn’t mean everyone in the estate needs to hear about it nor do they need to find out this way. “Feels good, huh?” He chuckles, sweat dripping down his face as he keeps up a harsh pace, enough to give you the force you need but not enough to make you unable to walk. After all, your inability to walk would definitely raise questions you couldn’t properly answer. He just wants to feel good inside of you and for you to feel good with him inside, nothing too extreme.

“Kaeya, please,” you whines for him and the scratching of your nails against his back have him moving your legs up, folding you in half. Keeping you bent by pressing himself against you, pushing his lips to yours as your hands go to his back. This way, he has completely control over his hip movement and can keep your noises muffled. “Fu-!”

“Naughty girl,” he smirks, watching you bite your lip as you tried to not scream a string of slurs. He was managing to rub against all your sweet spots as if he knew exactly where each of them were. “Getting close, aren’t you? Come on, I’ll be right with you,” he heavily moans the last part, his cock twitching at the feeling of you squeezing down, nails breaking his skin as you rake them down. He lets loose his own curses, head down and buried in your neck. His hips don’t stop, helping you ride out your own high before he’s releasing inside of you, hips stuttering before they stop with his cock deep inside. Pressing a hot kiss to your mouth, you only moan as you feel his hips begin to move, but he doesn’t leave your warmth.

“We’re not done. Not yet. I won’t be satisfied so easily. Not after a year long wait for this,” he licks his lips, moving you to your side as he lifts up your leg. A new position means his positioning inside your cunt is different, hitting new spots. “I’ll make sure you remember this night well,”

“Archons, god, Kaeya, please, I need more,” your words are rushes, but filled with a lustful passion. They’re not slurred, not drunken, spoken with only a drip of lust and none of wine. He grins, kissing you once more as his hips start up again.

Completely lost in his desires, he would miss if anyone were to witness his sinful pleasure.

The three long years away were not kind to Diluc, his anger from one night burning as his body screamed whenever he pushed it past it’s limit. His near death experience reminded him of you, his mother, who held onto his vision so tightly when he handed it over and cried so much at the news of his departure, but mostly of the worry that you’d never see him again. Deciding he needed to go back to Mondstadt when he was able to, he had planned ahead of time to enter in the dead of night and surprise everyone. In fact, his plan involved surprising you first, worried you’d believe him to be a figment of your imagination. He’s been gone long, turned into a proper gentleman and looks less like the son you saw last. He even missed Kaeya, once the anger against him had burned its course and only left bitter sadness in its wake.

The manor was dark, of course, with the late night and most of staff being asleep. He managed to enter easily thanks to a message sent early to Adelaide, who managed to do what he asked. It was quiet, but not completely. Setting his stuff down, he decided he’d go greet you first, as he expected you to break down in tears and need to just be next to him. It made his heart squeeze when he thought of how hurt and damaged you must be after everything, along with no word from him in three years. When he was aware of noise coming from your room, he was curious, the sound being unfamiliar from what he can recall. The door is even cracked a smidge, a sloppy habit he was sure you wouldn’t have.

Could you have changed so much in a short amount of time? Though he believed it was short, he knew three years was a long time and people could change, but he expected you to be somewhat the same. Cracking the door open only to see you, disheveled and naked, with Kaeya on top of you, Diluc felt emotions swirl inside of him. He felt disgusted at first, but he couldn’t deny he saw you in a different light looking like that, especially with a completely fucked out expression on your face. Anger against Kaeya began to rise once more, seeing him lean down to take your lips against his, but you reached out to him once he broke the kiss, making him laugh and go back to your lips, his hips never stopping.

He didn’t need to see anymore.

He’d take up residence in an inn back in Liyue, it wasn’t that far of a walk for him, but he needed to be alone after that scene on display. He couldn’t deny the thoughts swirling in his head, though, as he replayed your bouncing tits and drooling, fucked out face in his head. Perhaps, he’d send a letter for you to receive and let him know he’d be coming back.

Maybe he’d be welcomed home with your warm arms and spread legs, eager to show him some special love, too.

#BB.Kinky #BB.Dark #genshin smut #tw.noncon #tw.incest #tw.dubcon #tw.alcohol #Mr. Diluc #Mr. Kaeya #Kaeya.Spice #tw. death

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