#Circular Trading | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dirtylilspawn · 3 months ago

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ᴏᴠᴇʀʟᴏᴀᴅᴇᴅ sᴇɴsᴇs

Summary: Rafayel can't seem to get enough of your body.

Fandom: Love & Deepspace

Paring: [Rafayel x Fem!Reader]

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: NSFW (18+), porn w/o plot, slight obsession, intense smut, heavy biting, marking, previous multiple creampies, multiple orgasms, over stimulation, nosebleed, dumbification, dacryphilia, bits of fluff, bulge, lots of cum, heavy squirting, praise, pheromones, blood licking, saliva trade, reeeaally horny & degenerate dom!rafayel, doggy & mating press, rough sex, passing out

"More...give me more princess~"

The room was humid, filled with the scent of lust and sex. Your body rocking with his hard thrusts, as you lay on your stomach, head buried into the sheets while your artistic boyfriend held your hips up to his pelvis with an iron grip. Both of you were you fully naked, as Rafayel took you from behind, his cock ramming itself deep within your tired yet stimming walls. You were on your fifth round with him, two of those rounds involving his mouth ravishing your juicy cunt as he drank up all of your essence.

"Raf! I-I can't -aagh- any mooore..."

Rafayel continued to pound into your pussy, his eyes hooded and clouded with desire. His purple hair damp, bangs falling over his eyes, clinging to his forehead. He watched as his hands grip upon your, spreading your cheeks just to see the delicious site in front of him. There down below was his big cock splitting you wide open for him, he could see his previous loads mixed with your cum coating hid dick. The dirty sounds of your pussy squeezing him, the sick squelching noises filling his ears. And dear god, the smell! Your scent surrounded this man with no hesitation or warning, filling every pour of his. It was enough to make anyone insane, he was truly pussy drunk of your pheromones.

"Ngh! You can...you're my strong bodyguard after all~"

You gasp as you felt Rafayel right hand come in contact with gripping your wrist. He then pulls your arm from behind your back, making your chest rise up from bed. Your knees back in full motion as you have to use your abdominal muscle to sit up. Your right hand grips the sheets as you balance yourself to stay up right, but Raf made it easier as his left and was placed around your waist, holding your tightly. While his chest was slightly pressed against your back. Your breasts swayed below you as he thrusts hard, balls slapping against your ass.

"Fuck [Y/N], I love your body so much!"

His lips were pressing soft kisses along your back, his tongue licking the stripes of sweat that dripped down your back. His mouth moves to your arm he held prisoner, lips sucking on the delectable skin of yours. Rafayel then moved his mouth towards your neck, instantly taking a hard bite to the jugular. You head snaps back, teeth biting your lip from the pain and pleasure mixing into one. His teeth digged into the flesh, making an indent mark whilst drawing bits of blood to the surface. Tears roll down your cheeks, covering up the old tears that dried up.

This wasn't the first bite mark he made on you. There were multiple hickies and bites littered around your skin. Ranging down to your ass and thighs, to your stomach and breasts. He even suggested you mark him, as there were a few bites visible around his neck. The red circular indent gracing his pale soft skin made your stomach turn.

Rafayel lifted his head from your neck, watching as the bits of blood stream down your shoulder. He grins at this before using his slick tongue to gather the blood up, moaning from the taste. Would it be wrong for him to think how he wanted to melt into your skin and become one with you. Because that's what he wanted, to spend this blissful moment with you forever, remaining this drunk on you, and getting you drunk on him. Oh, how the though got him even harder inside you causing you to whine, feeling him hit all of your sweet spots.

His face turns to your face, seeing your fucked expression displayed only for him. Tears falling all for him alone, he couldn't help but smirk at your helpless self, sticking his tongue out to lap up your precious tears off your cheek.

"Such a cutie, my cutie." Rafayel whispers in your ear, giving it a good teasing bite at the end. Your body shook, face hot as you suck up all of his compliments and praise.

You can feel another orgasm trying to escape your body and Raf could tell by just how much your pussy was quivering. His hand that was on your waist moved lower between your thighs. His finger finds your throbbing clit, giving you a nice rub from his index and middle finger. Coxing you to cum around him and his cock. And it really didn't take much long before your body convulses with a powerful orgasm. You could feel yourself creaming around the base of his dick, head hanging low as you whaled a pitiful cry. Sweat dripping down your forehead, mouth open as drool rolled down your chin. your boyfriend came right behind you, filling your pussy with his white liquid. Raf's eyes closed as he lowers his head on your neck, giving you butterfly kisses along your shoulder. The hot load made you moan, as it added with the previous load Rafayel dumped inside you. You were so out of it that you didn't notice Raf was still hard around you. Pulling you off his dick, releasing you so he can move you onto your back.

You let out a sigh of relief feeling the cool sheets against your back. Your head on the soft pillow for a rest as your hair spilled messily around your head. But your eyes suddenly catch Rafayel in a very erotic position. He was on his knees, looking down at you with such intense gaze that sent a deep shiver down your body. You're breathless as you watch him pant heavily, his body glowing with sweat from the bed-side lamp. Chest heaving as well as his abs, his right hand now wrapping around his long dick. He pumps himself slowly, his cock still wet and dripping with your juices, while also his own come dripping down from the tip. It created a very slimy and wet sound with each pump he made. His dual purplish pink eyes never leaving your own eyes, and that made your pussy throb and clench over nothing. His cum pooling down your folds and to your ass.

He smells it again, your arousal, your pheromones still bombarding his nostrils.

He curses under his breath with a low whine exiting his throat. His left hand running his fingers up along his sweaty bangs, smoothing it over his head.

"R-Raf, are you okay?"

He doesn't really say anything just staring deeply, and you swallow a wad spit stuck in your throat. The fear and anticipation bubbling up in your chest, heart pounding so hard that you wouldn't be surprised if Rafayel could hear. Before you could say or do anything else, Rafayel pounced on your body. His hands lifted your legs from underneath your knees, pushing them all the way back till they were almost to your head. Having your folded into a restrictive mating press making you yelp in caution. His hands gripping the back of your thighs tightly, as your ass you lifted up a bit due to the position. He looked down at you with such a craved hunger, his breathing already ragged and desperate. His cock was moved between your puffy folds, his hips thrusting along your pussy. It easily glides with both of your drenched genitals with each other cum. The tip would hit your sensitive clit making your back arch from the pleasure. You could see the sick strings from your arousal stick from his cock to your pussy.

"W-Wait wait Raf! I-I don't know if I can do another-"

"Yes you can...please baby, just one more I promise...one more~"

His voice in a low whisper but you could still hear him. He was begging you for another round, pleading to stuff you full once more, to feel you around him so close and intimate. You whimper, your mind knowing that you should stop this, but your body was aching so much for your boyfriend to ruin you.

Seeing your willing submit on your face, Rafayel smiles all before his cock slowly pushes it way inside your hot walls. The stretch of his cock intense then the last rounds as you can feel him go even deeper. His tip hitting your cervix straight away, brushing up against the organ. Your eyes rolled back into your head, arms clentching the sheets and pillow right under your head. You were so distracted in your own bliss that you could see how Rafayel was fairing to all this pleasure. The boy head fell, as his eyes were closed, feeling every inch, curve, and depth inside you amazing walls. It was so hot he felt as if you'd will leave burn scares -not that it would happen to him-

All of this had stared because the two of you haven't seen each other for a while. And Rafayel, being the dramatic man he was didn't take well from being away from his dear bodyguard any longer. That damn job of yours really was going to be the death of him. Out there, risking your life on a day to day basis, him worrying for your safety even though on the surface he puts on an act. Berating you through banter everytime you get injured, calling you dumb, even though deep down all he wanted to do was hold you tightly in his arms and never let go. You were literally going to be the death of him.

Hell you weren't even injured badly or anything. He just missed you over the past month, cursing your busy schedule just to see you again. Miss having to hang around his art studio while he painted, miss having you do tedious tasks of finding new paint colors for his artistic experiments, miss having you body this close to his, skin to skin. And all that waiting, all that yearning, and patience. All the times he had to hear your voice over the phone, instead face to face made things become a bit more maddening. He almost forgotten what you smelled like, (which he definitely cried over the phone to you, whining how he needs you to return to him immediately) and you rolled your eyes, saying how you'll be over there soon enough.

And so he waited.

Boy did he hate it.

You surprised him the moment you came over to his place, calling out his name with glee. Rafayel made a beeline towards you, his hands grasping your shoulders tightly as he had a pout on his plush lips. His breath heaving, as his face was red, as if he was in heat. His clothes dishevelled, as his white buttoned shirt was open to view. Showing off his lean muscular physique and abs. He then kissed you desperately, trying to get your taste back into his mouth and memory. Sweet, you were so sweet and addicting. He hands moved along your body, grasping it's fill, whining how he was going to die if you hadn't came back. Which was false, but you knew how dramatic your boyfriend could be, especially when it came to you. So you let him have his way with you throughout the late evening.

What you didn't know was how much he was going to take from you.

Rafayel was still inside you, his hips not moving as his cock was motionless. You bite your lip as you wiggled your hips helplessly, wanting him to move. But you soon found a soft plop of liquid falling down chest. You slowly open your eyes, angling them to see what had fallen on your skin. Your eyes instantly are wide as you recognize the red liquid. Your gaze meets with Rafayel only to be shocked at what you were seeing. His nose, with one nostril leaking the crimson blood, rolling down to his own lips and chin.

"R-Rafayel! Oh my god, your nose!?"

You are concerned seeing your boyfriend have a spontaneous nosebleed out of nowhere. Probably due to all the hormones, maybe the blood rushed to fast into his head.

As if realizing this, Rafayel's right hand lets go of your thigh for a moment. His hand rising to his face, finger wiping away the blood that leaked down his upper lip, mouth, and chin. The blood smears against his cheek, his nosebleed stopping. Rafayel blinks for a few moments as he glances down at the small plop of blood that streaked across one of your breasts. He even looks down at his own hand that was smeared with blood that he wiped off his face. His eyebrows furrowed, as he looks away from you.

"Damn it...this is all your fault...getting me so worked up like this."

He whispers this while pouting, embarrassed by his own actions. All you could do was look up at him, and soon after you smiled. A breathless giggle rippling through your chest and out your mouth. He looks back at you with a soft yet annoyed expression on his features.

"Hey stop-"

"Hehe sorry, it's just.."

You smile at Rafayel as your hand reaches to cup his cheek gently. His eyes look at yours in surprise but soon caves in, and he closes those pretty eyes of his. His face leaning into your touch, cool hand against his heated skin, kissing the palm softly. Your thumb caressing a bit of the smeared blood along his cheek.

"I love you so much Raf."

You say this with full genuine love and adoration for the man above you. Rafayel takes in your words, as his eyes were still closed, head nuzzled up against your palm.

You were immediately taken back when Rafayel took your hand away from his face. His hand placed back underneath your soft thighs. Pushing your legs further in-between your head, making you note how you were defiantly going to sore for a few days after this. His hips slowly grind and thrust into your sweet spot, making you squirm in his tight hold of you. His cock digging inside your gut, making a noticeable bulge sticking out from your lower abdomen. You cry and Rafayel curses as he continues to ground himself slowly, swirling his cock around your walls, driving you crazy all over again.

"Shit, I love you so much too princess, -Nngh- you drive me insane~"

His thrusts were hard yet tantalizing slow, taking his time to etch his cock into your pussy. Just so you have the shape of him inside of you forever, ruined for anyone else to take -not that he'd allow you to leave him-

Your head felt so hot, as you couldn't think or say anything. Only letting Raf use your body as you moan in pleasure. But your body trembled for more, for him to just pound you senselessly otherwise you'd might explode. And Rafayel could sense that, he could feel how needy you were for his cock to take you. And he loved it, he wanted to give you everything you deserve. He wanted to make you feel just how he felt waiting for you for that long month. Though he himself was getting antsy and impatient, the urge to fuck you silly and stupid still raging inside his head and body.

"My pretty girl getting frustrated hehe."

Rafayel chuckles watching your facial features clench as his sent a hard thrust to your core. Your body shaking for him to just go faster.

"Open your mouth for me."

You hear his demand and obey him, opening you mouth wide for him, tongue sticking out waiting. His eyes crazed with lust as he watched you do this. He too opens his mouth, sticking his tongue out as he aligned his head above your mouth. Gathering up some saliva in the back of his mouth, he used his tongue to let the saliva drool down creating a slow stream into your own mouth. A moan erupts your throat, eyes lidded as you watched him drool into your own mouth, letting the saliva pool inside. Your pussy clenches heaving around him, causing the man above to groan knowing your aroused from his actions. He then stops himself, pulling his tongue away and closing his mouth with a sly smirk. Closing your mouth, as his own saliva swished inside before going down your throat and into your stomach when swallowing. Once you swallowed the mouth full of his saliva, you re-opened your mouth to him, tongue sticking out showing that you swallowed it all down. A stupid lewd grin carving your lips.

Rafayel watches this in amazement, he could feel himself getting even more harder inside you if that was even possible. The shaft throbbing, wanting to be stimulated more by your sweet cunt. His hips then move faster, his speed crazy and rough. Dick repeatedly punching your cervix with no mercy what-so-ever. Your eyes roll back as your mouth hanged open with cries and moans. Back arching so deliciously while he ruined your pussy.

"Aagh! R-Raf...uugh~!"

"Fuck princess~!"

Rafayel's cock drilled inside you, the bulge protruding from your flesh, making Rafayel go deranged. One of his legs were kneeling, while the other was propped up the bed, his foot digging into the mattress to get a better angle in your cunt. Your pussy in full display for him as it sucked him up, both your cum spilling out from the sides making a nasty mess all around your folds and thighs. The creamy seed dripping up to your navel. Balls slapping onto your ass, sending a loud smack with every thrust he did. The two of you were fucking like animals, very rough and high of each other's bodies. Especially Rafayel, who was drooling with his eyes full blow with lust as he watched your body rocked with his. Your arms above your head, breasts jumping heavily, as well as your legs and feet that swayed in the air.

Rafayel leans in more, his body weigh heavy against yours. He lips crashed with your, tongue violating your own mouth. He wanted to ruin your face as much as he was ruining your body. Both of your tongues swirling together messily, his heated breath mixed with yours. All while he muttered his dirty thoughts between kisses.

"C-Can't say anything can you princess?"

Kiss.

"Has my cute bodyguard turn dumb on me~?"

Kiss.

"-Nngh- Don't worry...you don't have to say anything...shit!"

Kiss.

"Just let me take care of you."

Kiss. Kiss.

"Don't you ever leave for that long..."

Kiss.

"Mm, I-I'll make sure you'll never forget my shape~"

Kiss.

Some of the blood that was staining his cheek moved to your own face. Some wiping along your own cheek and nose, making it look as if you too had a nosebleed. Honestly with the amount of blood flow rushing up to your brain, you figured that was bound to happen. You gasp in pain when you felt Rafayel teeth bite down along your calf. His head kissing your skin that held the new bite mark.

Rafayel can feel your pussy start to flutter around him, making him let out a whine. You were starting to get close to your orgasm, and so was he. He starts to pick the pace up causing you to squeal with much delight. His strong arms holding you close and tight as your toes clench in pleasure.

"Cum for me my bride...I want you to spill all over my cock! Do it for me, make a mess~!"

You let out unintelligible nonsense, babbling slurs that were probably Rafayel's own name. You couldn't tell as you were too fucked out to know anything but pleasure and bliss surrounding your whole body. All you could think about was your boyfriend Rafayel and his thick cock sending you to the edge. Your orgasm came like a hurricane, taking up all your senses and pouring out of you violently. Your back was arched, eyes crossing over as your hands above you gripped the pillow that rested beneath your head. Nails digging in, fearing you may tear it due to how much you were gripping it. Legs shake yet stiffen as your cunt gushed around his cock hard, your cum spraying out of you. Drenching both you and Rafayel, your thighs, pussy, his lower abdomen, dick and balls dripping with your sweet essence. You were crying, as globs of tears streak down your cheeks,

Rafayel shuddered, head dipping down as his teeth gritted. His thrusts were non-stop, and he prolonged your orgasm and entered into his own. His hands gripping to your thighs harshly, a bruise to come later. His tip was pressed up along your cervix, come shooting load after load inside. Filling your pussy to the brim to the point semen snuck out through the crevasses that connected you and him. Rafayel shook, as his thrusts start to slow down, sweat dripping down his body as well as yours. Rafayel kept muttering "I love you" whispering with every pump of his cock made inside you, moaning pathetically. The man then finally stills himself, too overstimulated to move anymore, your whines and sniffles making him stop as you were to overstimulated yourself.

His grip on you lessens, as he slowly lets go of your thighs and places them down on the soft bed. You let out a sigh of relief, eyes closed and tired. They felt so heavy, and it was too much to open them. Rafayel pulls out of you, hissing at the cool air that hits him when coming out of your warmth. He watches as spurts of his own cum squirts out of your stretched hole. He was amazed at the site, and he would have pushed his seed back inside you if it wasn't for the overwhelming exhaustion that pulled him down. Rafayel pulls the bed sheets over you and him, his head toppled over between your breasts nuzzling in them. His breath settling as well as yours, he can hear your heart steady, as your breath slows. Soft snores indicating that you had passed out. He sighs a content sigh, kissing your chest softly while wrapping his arms around your body. Rafayel starts to drift to sleep on your chest, a well knowing thought on how next morning, you'll probably scold him for how sore he made you.

A scolding he was definitely looking forward to.

#love and deepspace #rafayel x reader #rafayel smut #lads smut #smut

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mariacallous · 11 months ago

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bloodstainedsapphic · 3 months ago

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coffee shop fluff with ellie williams rahhh

pitter patter. the slosh of each step onto the sidewalk, the missteps into murky puddles during the drizzle, threatened to seep through your fuzzy socks and erase the last barrier between you and the storm above.

the forecast had promised sunshine—what a load of shit that was. a pleasant excursion into town with your best friend ellie had turned into a zig-zagging mad dash between stops, making the chill vibes more fickle as you tried to have fun while evading a sniveling cold. the day still managed to be something close to perfect. because, at the end of it all, you were with ellie.

seeking some reprieve from the onslaught of trickling rain, you both slipped into an equally busy coffee shop. despite all the action, you sighed in relief as the inside brought a coziness the foggy, slate-grey spring weather had not granted. it was a steady crowd—everyone else must have had the same idea, trying to escape the lousy weather.

“whatcha want?” you asked ellie, who was raking a hand through her auburn hair, now darkened to a deep chestnut from the rain.

“anything but coffee.”

“got it.”

you took ellie’s entirely too vague order and stepped ahead to the counter, purchasing yourself a latte and ordering the barista’s special recommendation of tea for ellie.

as you waited, elbow leaned against the corner of the countertop, your eyes wandered, quickly spotting ellie on the far side of the café. she’s holding what appears to be a comic, plucked from shelves that sat riddled with trinkets, purchasable knickknacks, and dime-a-dozen books. you quietly head her way.

“did you find the one comic in this café?” you asked, leering over her shoulder, eyeing the yellowed pages ellie was flipping through.

she snorted, barely sparing you a glance. “obviously.” she traded in the zine for her tea, taking it from you and blowing on the top to cool it down.

you and ellie made your way to a small circular table near the windowsill, watching the droplets trickle down the glass. it was peaceful, even if you were both wet as stray dogs at this point of the day.

“you know,” you started, initiating a random topic to keep the momentum going. “i don’t mind the city.”

ellie shrugged. the city didn’t seem to bring the same twinkle to her eye as it did to you. she leaned back in her chair, tapping her fingers idly against the side of her cup.

“eh. it’s a lot sometimes,” she admitted, “but… not bad if you know where to look.”

you nodded. “exactly.”

then you paused, sensing a layer underneath ellie’s words. your eyes narrowed mischievously as you leaned in slightly, like you were coaxing a secret out of her.

“wait. do you have some mystery spots you haven’t told me about?”

ellie shrugged again, her false coyness meant to taunt you, rile you up—her favorite pastime, it seemed. “dunno.”

you groaned, blowing on your drink to soothe yourself, taking a small sip before really grilling her.

“what are you talking about?”

ellie hummed noncommittally, slowly swirling her cup in her hand, acting as though the conversation wasn’t all that interesting. “wouldn’t you like to know.”

“ellie, you fucking suck.”

ellie merely smirked, clearly enjoying your weak attempt at prying an answer from her. she took a slow sip of her tea, looking entirely unbothered—maybe even a little smug—as you steeped in your frustration.

“if we were dating, i’d take you to all the best places…” she mused, her inflection practically begging you to cling to and make a deal of her teasing words. so you did. “what’s stopping you?” you fired back, playing along.

in your pride, you caught the way ellie visibly stiffened, her lips pressed to the rim of her cup, frozen mid-sip as if she might choke on your reply.

“…excuse me,” she muttered, a bit gruff, her eyes flicking toward you as if unsure whether to scoff or take you seriously.

“you heard me.” you mirrored her energy, wiggling your brows, acting as if the rising tension wasn’t threading through your every last nerve. there had been plenty of cheeky flirts and lingering touches before this titular moment with ellie—she was your pretty best friend. you’d be ‘down’ if she asked. but the possibility had never been quite so direct as this.

“mmmh, i’ll keep that in mind,” she replied, trying to sound stoic before finally taking that sip she wanted. you caught the quiver in her voice and the rose-petal blush on her cheeks, however, shining through the sheen of rain still clinging to her face and hair.

“nice.” you grinned, pleased with her words. “when can we start?”

“start what?” “dating. so you can show me those so-called best places..duh.” ellie finally, actually choked on her tea.

#literally forcing myself to post something bc the anxiety is killing me so pls be nice!#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie tlou2 #ellie x reader #lesbian #the last of us 2 #bloodstainedsapphic writing

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defmaybe · 7 months ago

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Lotus Eater

aespa’s Yoo Jimin/Karina, Jo Yuri x Male Reader

1.4k words

Inspired by FINNEAS' Lotus Eater

“A few things before we start,” Yuri says groggily.

The dim light from the living area casts into the room. It’s nighttime, and the three souls in this room are drunk.

“This doesn’t mean”–Jimin lets out a loud burp, stopping Yuri in her tracks. She turns to her–“would you be fucking quiet for a second, Jimin?”

Jimin lets out a childish giggle, unable to control herself under the influence of alcohol.

“God, as I said”–Yuri adjusts her crumpled shirt a little, it doesn’t help much, really–“this doesn’t mean anything, alright?”

You profusely nod. Kissing any of the two in the hallways isn’t an appropriate thing to do, anyway. So, just hi-s and hello-s in the classes, that’s all. Hell, you’d even trade an arm to get a chance with any of these women.

“Just waving to each other and smile, and that’s enou–”

“I wanna kiss you so bad, baby,” Jimin says with another stupid chuckle, before pulling you into a deep kiss. Her breath smells like alcohol, so is yours—cannot complain. Her tongue invades your mouth aggressively, and you have to do your best to keep quiet—the room next to you might wake up if you scream.

“Bloody hell,” says Yuri. Poor, poor Yuri, always has to put up with her friend’s naïve antics, and it gets worse under intoxication. Waking up in other men’s (or women’s) rooms isn’t a far-fetched concept for Jimin. At least once a week, she finds herself away from this room in the morning.

You sign an OK for Yuri, just hi-s and hello-s, no kissing, no strings attached. You’re too drunk and too busy having your mouth locked with Jimin.

On the edge of your vision, Yuri takes off her blouse in a quick motion, revealing her pert breasts covered in a white lace bra, and you have to stop the kiss immediately, making Jimin groan in frustration, as you gawk at the sight of Yuri.

“Fucking whore,” she says, clearly unimpressed with your behavior.

“Yuri! Don’t scold him!” Jimin says with a pout while you chuckle at the banter.

“I mean, I get to fuck, Yuri. Call me names, I don’t care,” you answer Yuri with a smirk. It’s like you’d care about this, anyways.

Yuri can’t help but laugh. “Alright, you slut, let’s just get it done.”

She then pulls you into another deep kiss. Unlike Jimin (who is now lying still on the bed, watching you two), hints of cherries remain on Yuri’s lips. Automatically, your hands go onto her covered firmness, and she lets out a moan into your mouth. You can feel her shallow breaths.

“F–Feels so good, baby,” Yuri says muffledly.

“No feelings involved–mm–remember?”

“Baby means shit–mmm–you man-whore,” she deflects.

“Thanks, babe.”

You can hear Yuri giggling into your mouth, as her hands start to reach the strap of her bra behind her back. It falls off so easily, as you’re trying your best to not pull back from this kiss and stare at her tits.

“Guys, ugh”–Jimin then gets up, before taking off her oversized t-shirt, revealing the chest that her bra is doing its best to hold–“I wanna join!”

Yuri pulls off from the kiss, and you whimper in frustration. You try to kiss her again, but she raises her hand up to stop you. “Wait for Jimin, baby.”

“Ugh, fine.”

You take off your shirt, waiting for Yuri to unclasp Jimin’s top garment. Your upper body becomes bare in front of the two drunk women, and you hear a clicking sound.

There it is, Jimin’s breasts, all for you to see. She bites her nails shyly, as if this is her first time doing this. She’s gorgeous, but so is Yuri. You’re lost in the body of these two women. Your length is throbbing in your pants, so you quickly take them off. Your cock springs free from the fabric cage, as Yuri and Jimin both gawk at the sight.

“Looks good, baby,” Jimin says with a chuckle. Her hand is snaking under her sweatpants. You can see the circular movement under them.

“C–Can I suck it?” Yuri asks, intimidated by the length.

“Uh, sure.”

Without another word, Yuri dives onto your cock eagerly, creating a suction with her mouth. Again, you’re doing your best to not let out a moan that would wake up the neighbors. On the other side, Jimin is rubbing her clit, whimpering at the sight. Her breaths come out in shallow pants.

“Y–Yuri, fuck.”

Yuri only chuckles on your cock. With each bob of her head, she takes in your length longer and longer. You moan rapidly as the sensation grows on your cock. She knows how to make you moan. She’s so damn good at this.

“Babe, please fuck my cunt, please,” Jimin says from your right, as she hastily take off her pants, revealing her glistened cunt under the dim light.

“I–I only have my fing–”

“Please, I beg you,” Jimin pleads, so eager to have you stuffing her cunt with your digits.

Yuri gets off your cock. “Just fucking do it, babe, relieve her.” Before she goes down with her mouth again.

“O–Okay.” You then, slowly, insert your trembling fingers into her wet cunt. Her tightness grips you like a vice. She moans. Her breasts heave up and down with her shaky breaths. Jimin’s hands fight for purchase on the bed sheets.

“Fuck!” Jimin screams. Yuri quickly brings her hand to close her mouth, not wanting to wake the neighbors up. Her mouth is still adeptly giving you the suction you need.

You dive into her deep, before flicking your fingers up onto the upper wall of her cunt. Jimin wails.

“Gonna cum, gonna cum, fuck, I’ve never cum this fast in my li–”

Jimin cums, hard. Her cunt sprays gushes clear liquid onto the bed sheets. They’re going to have to wash them tomorrow. Her whole body shakes and writhes, and she screams in ecstasy.

She then collapses onto the bed, chest heaving, panting. Yuri pulls off your cock, watching her friend lying happily on the bed, eyes fluttering.

“That’s quite–something,” says Yuri. “Use that whore mouth of yours, make me cum.”

You nod sheepishly, before laying down on your side, just beside the panting Jimin. Yuri’s facing your throbbing length, while you’re facing her wet cunt. She’s fucking aroused as you are.

“Ready?” Yuri asks.

Without a word, your tongue dives onto her cunt, tasting that sweet nectar you’ve been craving. Yuri is caught off guard with a whimper, struggling to contain her resolve for a blink of an eye. Still, she finds the rhythm, before diving onto your cock in the same fashion, eager to drink that divine syrup of yours.

You eat her cunt like there’s no tomorrow, lapping up the juices off the slit. Wet sounds of the oral misdeeds fill the room. You can hear Jimin moaning from behind again. She’s going for round two. She pulls your hand onto her tired hole, and you reply with a plunge into her slit. A moan leaks out of her mouth.

You can feel Yuri’s thighs clench. She’s close. You keep lapping up her juice profusely. Her breaths become more shallow. On the other side, Jimin is also going to cum. Her breathing and Yuri’s are in sync.

Your fingers’ movements become more erratic. You’re close too. That feeling is building up in your loins. You’re going to cum into Jo Yuri’s mouth, with your tongue on her puffy cunt, and your fingers inside Yoo Jimin.

“Y–Yuri, I–I’m gonna cum.”

Yuri signs a thumbs up to you, giving you the permission to cum in her mouth. Your breathing syncs with Jimin’s and Yuri’s. You’re all going to cum together. Fuck, this is a fucking heaven.

And your dam breaks. Jimin gushes liquid onto your dirty hands, wailing in ecstasy. Her body shakes and trembles. Your whole frame jerks into Yuri’s mouth, unloading spurts of cum down her throat. And Yuri cums with you, spraying clear nectar into your man-whore mouth. You three revel in the high. Nothing can come close to this.

“Shit,” Yuri says, breathing still out of rhythm.

“Yeah, shit,” you reply. And you hear Jimin burps again, bringing out laughs from all of you.

“Are we doing this again?” you have to ask.

“Fuck, yes, definitely,” Jimin replies.

“Well, maybe,” Yuri adds.

—

#karina #karina smut #aespa #aespa smut #jo yuri #jo yuri smut #izone #izone smut #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #Spotify

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hannahbarberra162 · 8 months ago

Text

Emperor's Prize (Alpha Shanks x Omega Reader) Part 2

18+ MDNI on Ao3

Seek medical attention for infected bite wounds.

The first chapter

The next chapter

Shanks POV

Hongo tilted his head to the side while contemplating your last statement. His mouth opened and closed before asking “Captain, may I speak to you outside for a moment?” Shanks nodded, using his thumb to wipe away the tear tracking down the Omega’s face.

“Stay here, OK? I’ll be just outside the door,” Shanks said in your ear quietly, his stubble scraping against your cheek and earning him a shiver from you. Picking you off his lap with ease, Shanks set the Omega down on the unmade bed. You were still steadfastly looking down at your feet and avoiding eye contact with either Hongo or himself. Shanks stood up and followed the doctor, opening and shutting the cabin door gently behind him to avoid startling you.

“Are you keeping her?” the doctor asked, letting out the breath he’d been holding.

Shanks hadn’t given it much thought in the short time he’d had the Omega on his ship. If Shanks was a better man, he could let her go back on suppressants while living in anonymity on a protected island. She’d made it years without being detected and likely could go back to doing the same.

Or he could sell her and make a ton of Berri, maybe even equal to his bounty. This idea was dismissed as the thought of turning her over to someone who would traumatize her just as badly - or maybe worse - turned his stomach. Besides, the islands he protected were perfectly happy to supply him with whatever the crew needed. The Red Force was welcomed all over the Grand Line, Shanks had no need for more money.

“Yeah, I’m thinking about it,” Shanks said, rubbing his goatee. The idea to keep the Omega for himself had growing appeal. Your scent had started to perfume the cabin and it was taking everything in Shanks not to rub his nose on your scent glands. You had a subtle scent of lily of the valley and cedar that Shanks found incredibly appealing. With his status, power, and crew he could keep you safe from anyone else who would seek to have you.

“Well, you’d better decide quickly. If you’re not keeping her, we need to get her off the ship immediately.”

“How much time do we have?” Shanks asked, peeking back in on your still form again. If he didn’t see you breathing and blinking, he would have thought you a statue.

“Only four to five days, and that’s if your presence around her doesn’t initiate her heat sooner which it likely will. If you’re not keeping her, we gotta put her in the infirmary, brig, or somewhere where your and Beckman’s scent is weak.” The mention of Beckman set Shanks on edge, surprising both himself and the doctor. He’d been friends with Beckman for over twenty years and this was the first time he’d ever felt anything so negative towards the man.

“How much do you know about Omegas?”

Shanks hummed as he recalled that he had read a few books over the years, but hadn’t taken a particular interest in Omegas. He didn’t think he’d ever find one and he wouldn’t want to spend a single Berri on buying one through the slave trade. He’d bedded hundreds of Betas and even a few Alphas which had suited him just fine. “I know a little but not all that much truthfully,” he stated while looking at you through the circular window in the cabin door. You hadn’t moved an inch, your gaze still trained on the floor, sitting in the exact position Shanks had left you in. He could only imagine what Kid had done to you to train you to such a sick level of obedience.

“We’ve got to get to an island and dock for the duration otherwise everyone’s gonna be miserable, especially Beckman. You’re not gonna want anyone else around her either.”

“How do you know she’s going to be in heat?” Shanks asked, genuinely curious.

Hongo scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Doctor isn’t just a title, I went to a real medical school. I learned about all this and we need to get her ready. If this is her first heat like she’s saying it will be, it’s going to be intense.”

“What does that mean exactly? What do we need to do for her?” Shanks’s practical knowledge about heat cycles left something to be desired. He’d often glossed over those sections in manuscripts under the assumption that it would never apply to his situation.

Hongo rubbed the back of his neck in thought. “If you’re keeping her, there’s a lot we need to do. First, she must bathe so I can tend to her wounds. After that, you’ll have to scent her. If you want the heat to go as smoothly as it can we need to erase any scent left from Kid and replace it with yours. That way she’s not searching for her old mate, even if they had a….bad relationship. We’ll need to get her soft, clean, unscented linens and blankets so she can make her nest. She needs to eat up - heats use a lot of the Omega’s reserves and she doesn’t have that much left. We need -”

Shanks cut off Hongo with a wave of his hand. “One thing at a time. First, let’s bathe her.”

“After the bath, we’re gonna need Beckman,” Hongo stated.

“Beckman? Why?” Shanks was an Alpha too and stronger besides. Anything Beckman could do, Shanks could do better unless it took two arms. Belatedly, Shanks realized his feelings were the precursor to jealousy. He threw Hongo a frown before he carried on speaking in a sullen tone, “She doesn’t need him.”.

“I’m gonna have to clean and dress her wounds,” Hongo explained.

“So? What does that have to do with him?”

“He’s gonna keep you from punching or trying to fight me. You’re not going to like watching me tend to her or hurt her, no matter if it's for her own good.” Shanks rolled his eyes at the doctor’s words.

“Pffff. It’s not gonna be like that, I can control myself. It’s not like she’s my mate,” Shanks scoffed.

“I’m getting Beckman,” Hongo stated, unmoved by Shanks’s self assuredness.

Your POV

You heard the Captain and doctor talking outside of the door but were lost in your own thoughts. You’d been off your homemade suppressants for a while but you had pointedly avoided thinking about the possibility of going through heat. You had chalked your rising temperature up to your wounds causing you to be feverish. Nuzzling into the cloak, you inhaled Shanks’s scent deep into your lungs. The velvety material and clean smell made you feel peaceful to the point of being a little sleepy. You ached to lay back on the comfortable looking bed and curl up into a ball but he hadn’t given you permission to. You wanted to pass and show that you could obey in case this was a test. Kid liked to test the limits of your obedience in creative ways and you’d learned your lessons the hard way. He would leave food out when you were hungry and punish you if you ate it, or leave out blankets when he’d told you to remain naked and enter his cabin randomly. So you sat even though you were bone achingly tired.

You tried to look about your surroundings surreptitiously while you waited. The wooden cabin was mostly tidy but well lived in. Clothes were piled on a lounge chair in the corner, a writing desk had letters, maps, and an inkwell on top, and a small bookshelf held a few tomes. A dark colored chest had more linens poking out of the corner while the bed you were perched upon was large and covered in fuzzy sheets and piled with blankets and pillows. You didn’t see any hooks or chains hanging from the walls, maybe the Alpha wasn’t going to shackle you to the bed. The room had the aroma of the Alpha and gave off the feeling of coziness, of snuggling under blankets on a cold night. It felt….homey.

The door opened and Shanks reappeared without the doctor. Watching the Emperor approach, you didn’t want to imagine his displeasure at finding you asleep on the bed when he hadn’t allowed it. Kid’s power was mind boggling to you and the Emperor had swatted him away like a fly. You would do anything to remain on the Emperor’s good side even if it was to your own detriment. You heard him approaching you and watched his sandaled feet stop in front of you. He didn’t stoop down to catch your gaze but you felt his hand land at the top of your hair. You winced, remembering all the times it had been pulled in the past. No pain came as Shanks just patted you and rubbed the strands of your dirty hair between his fingers.

“Hongo has to treat your wounds. We need to get you clean first though, yeah? And take these off too,” Shanks’ fingers left your hair as he spoke. He reached down into the cloak and pulled on the chain between the cuffs you were still wearing. Feeling the bed dip next to you, Shanks pulled one of the cuffs closer to his face to inspect the manacle. “Where’s the lock? They’re not welded shut,” Shanks noted.

“Magnetic,” you said in your hoarse voice. Shanks’s face soured as he traced the smooth metal of the handcuff with his thumb.

“Ah.” Shanks seemed to mull your response over for a few moments before he commanded you to close your eyes. You complied immediately and heard crunching as the metal of your cuff fell off your wrists. You desperately wanted to see how the Emperor had gotten them off but you were waiting for his command. A warm and calloused hand rubbed your bruised wrist where the metal had been previously. “You can open them again,” Shanks said softly, running his thumb over your pulse. There were no weapons around and the Emperor’s sword was still sheathed within the scabbard. You could only guess the power he’d used to remove them.

The door swung open and three men appeared, two carrying a metal tub filled with steaming water and the third with a bucket with toiletries. Shanks stood to put himself between you and the crew members, blocking them from your view. “Thanks, guys, just put it over there,” the Emperor requested, gesturing to the largest open area of the cabin. The men followed their Captain’s request carefully but a little water sloshed on the floor. Alarm shot through you at the sight of the water on the floor, and you hoped the Captain didn’t blame you or punish you for it. You nearly went to clean it but you hadn’t been told to leave the bed and the new men were still in the room.

“Is it time for introductions? I’m Lime -” one of the men began speaking in your direction.

“Ah, not now. Maybe later Lime Juice, sorry. Thanks for bringing the tub,” the Emperor said with genuine praise in his voice.

“No worries. Nice to meetcha Little Miss,” the man said easily. You didn’t reply. The men exited the cabin leaving only you, Shanks, and the piping hot bath.

“Come on, then. Let’s get you in there while it's still hot,” the Emperor suggested. You nodded and stood up, shucking the Emperor’s cloak you’d been clutching.

Shanks POV

He shouldn’t have been surprised when you complied immediately, leaving his cloak on the bed and revealing your nude body. You’d been beaten into submission - if he told you to jump overboard he’d hear the splash shortly thereafter. His eyes raked over your form while you limped to the tub, noticing the bruising, the cuts, the marks he hadn’t before. Even in your currently broken form, you were breathtaking. Shanks’s fingers twitched with the desire to touch you but he stuffed his hand into his pocket for the time being, getting closer to aid your descent into the water.

“Why are you limping?” Shanks asked as you gripped the edge of the tub to lift yourself in. You froze in place, looking down at the water. Raising your foot behind you revealed a deep gash in the sole of your foot. Shanks crouched down to get a better look at the wound while capturing your foot in his hand. The doctor hadn’t inspected the bottom of your feet so he was sure Hongo hadn’t seen this one. The cut was clearly deliberate with how deep and uniform it was. Taking a deep breath to avoid swearing caused the tempting perfume of your cunt to hit Shanks’s nose. His first instinct was to hold you in place and run his tongue all the way up your legs till he reached your tantalizing pussy. Then he wanted to rub his nose up and down your slit until the scent of your pussy was all he could smell. Now wasn’t the time, you were shaking and tired and had a long way to go until you could rest.

“Ach. I wish you’d said something, are there any other cuts Hongo didn’t inspect?” Shanks said in mild admonishment. You licked your lips and nodded slowly. You were shaking, your shoulders hunched in to make yourself smaller. “Hey, don’t worry, I’m not mad,” Shanks said quietly, putting your foot back down and standing up, regrettably moving away from the scent of your groin. He cupped your face and rubbed his thumb over your cheek repeatably in an attempt to soothe you. “I’m not mad, I just need to know where you need medical attention. I can’t help you if I don’t have all the information, right?” You nodded, your hair obscuring your face from his view. “Where’s the other cut?” Shanks inquired while moving his hand to the small of your back.

You took in a deep breath and put your good foot on the tub, opening your legs to his eyes. At the very inner crease of your leg, where your thigh met your groin, was another infected bite mark. Shanks squared his shoulders and kept his face neutral. His first instinct had been to snarl at the offending sight but managed to restrain his response at the sight of you. Shanks saw your vacant gaze, shaking hands, and clammy skin and knew it would only make things worse.

“”S all right. We can let Hongo know later,” Shanks slipped on the mask of his affable nature as he spoke to smooth over the moment. “In ya go, Love,” Shanks said while picking you up by the waist and depositing you into the tub without warning. Shanks needed you in the water so your smell would dissipate before he lost control of himself. You hissed when your skin hit the water but otherwise made no movements. “Here you go,” Shanks said, handing you soap and a towel before dragging a stool over to sit near the tub. “You do your front, I’ll get your back.”

You began lathering the washcloth with soap and warm water before you began rubbing down your arms and torso. Shanks maintained a steady one sided conversation while he started pouring water down your back. He was trying to acclimate you to the sound of his voice in an attempt to bring you comfort in what surely was an uncomfortable time. While lathering his own washcloth Shanks saw the formerly clear bathwater turning rust red with every swipe of your hands. As he began sudsing your back his eyes picked up faded scars he’d missed when looking over your more recent wounds.

“I’m gonna wash your back now, ok? It’s hard to wash your own back and even harder when you only have one hand. There are more tasks than you’d think that require two hands, even beyond fighting or washing. Can you imagine how difficult buttons are to do with one hand? Or even tying boots? I have Beckman help me, that’s Benn Beckman, my first mate. You’ll meet him later, you’ll like him for sure. He looks gruff but make no mistake he’s a total sweetheart. He says that I milk it, and I do of course, but what’s the point of being a Captain if my first mate won’t hand feed me eggs every morning?”

Shanks was acting casually but he noticed a miniscule shift in your mouth as he joked about Benn feeding him breakfast. You were close to smiling and Shank’s heart swelled with pride. He knew there was some glimmer of you buried deep within and he was going to bring you back to the surface. He finished washing your back and you’d washed your arms, torso, and legs but made no move to wash your hair.

“Do you want me to wash your hair, Love? I can if you’d like,” Shanks was trying to offer you as many simple choices as possible to show you that he wasn’t going to control every aspect of your life. You shook your head in response to his query. “Alright, go ahead then, almost done here,” Shanks said gently but to his surprise, you shook your head again. “No? I don’t mean to be rude sweetheart but your hair’s dirty, it needs to be washed.”

“Cut it all off,” you rasped. Shanks tilted his head to the side, your request startling. Even male Omegas preferred long hair, it was simply a characteristic commonly associated with the dynamic. One of the most severe non-corporeal punishments an Omega could face was having a forced haircut. For an Omega to request a drastic haircut was unheard of. Your hair was long, indicating you’d been growing it long before Kid had gotten his hands on you even through your time being suppressed.

“Can I ask why?” Shanks questioned, picking up the soggy ends from the water.

“Can’t be pulled,” you answered. You parted your hair in the back, showing a bald spot where your hair had been yanked out from the root. Shanks moved his stool so he was no longer sitting behind you but beside you.

“Look at me,” Shanks requested and you partially complied as you turned your head towards him. You looked at his chest but not at his face. “ Look at me,” Shanks repeated, this time with a Command. Not physically able to disobey an Alpha of his power, your widened eyes snapped to him. It was the first time he’d Commanded you to do anything, but this was important.

“I’m not going to hurt you. Not now. Not ever. You may not always like what I do, but I will never harm you. Do you understand?” Shanks said softly while stroking your cheek with his thumb. He’d done that a lot, he mused. Something about you called him to take care of you, to provide for you physically and emotionally. You nodded. “I’m gonna have to hear you say it,” Shanks said, almost sorry for forcing you to talk.

“I understand,” you stated in your ruined voice. Unsure if his Command was completed you continued looking at him. Shanks smiled at you and kissed the top of your head.

“I’ll tell you what, we’ll make a deal. I’ll wash and brush your hair for you tonight. If you still want to cut it off tomorrow morning, we will. We can have matching haircuts if you want,” Shanks said, flipping back his own hair for emphasis. A ghost of a smile turned up the corners of your lips as you nodded your consent to his deal.

Your POV

Your arms looped around your knees in the cooling water as Shanks washed your hair tenderly. You had been sincere in your wish to cut it - you never wanted to be dragged by your hair ever again. Shanks’s offer startled you since Omegas were often physically groomed to whatever standard the Alpha wanted regardless of how they felt about it. The bath had given you a lot of stress since you weren’t sure what to expect. Anything new, any deviation from the standard made you nervous since you couldn’t predict the outcome. It had been an all right experience but not as relaxing as the Emperor had anticipated.

Shanks only had one hand but it didn’t slow him down when bathing you. He rattled on about whatever he was thinking about while you listened as he worked the soap onto your scalp and rinsed it. He was pulling the brush easily through your hair while telling you about a strange boy he’d met years before when there was a knock at the door.

“Wait,” Shanks ordered in a tone more stern than he’d used when speaking to you. “Up, dear,” Shanks motioned with the hairbrush. The water dripping off you in rivulets left you exposed to the cold air making your skin erupt into goosebumps. Shanks quickly dried you off with a fluffy towel before he wrapped it around your body. After you were dried to Shanks’s satisfaction, he swapped the towel for a large purple robe, picked you up, and sat you on the chair by the desk.

“Come in,” Shanks said, sitting on the edge of the desk next to you. He took your wrinkly hand and held it in his own as you resumed staring at the floor. Three pairs of boots walked past and you heard them hefting the tub back out of the room.

“Blech, what’d she do? Bathe in mud?” one man said.

“Shut the fuck up,” Hongo replied calmly while coming to stand in front of you. He had his medicine kit again and you knew this part would be even less fun than the bath. Two pairs of boots stopped in front of you but you only recognized Hongo’s. The other male was also an alpha though not as strongly scented as Shanks.

“There’s a few more Hong,” Shanks said casually, stroking the top of your hand. “She’s got a cut on the sole of her foot and one on her inner thigh. Both need attention.”

“Alright, not an issue. Let’s get started,” Hongo said while setting his bag on the desk. “Over to the other side of the cabin,” Hongo ordered Shanks, who bristled immediately.

“Nah, I’m gonna stay here,” Shanks said, keeping your hand in his own.

“No, you’re not. Go over there with Beckman. I don’t want to have to treat my own wounds in addition to hers when I stitch her up.” You cringed, waiting for the Captain to slap his subordinate but it never came. Instead, you heard a deep voice ushering the Emperor away from you.

“C’mon, Cap. ‘S for the best. We’ll be a few feet away and she’s a big girl, she can be apart from you for a minute or two.” You were guessing this was Benn Beckman, the first mate Shanks had told you about. Shanks whined in response but let go of your hand nonetheless.

“”M right here if you need me, Sweets,” Shanks reassured you as he receded. You didn’t protest but a part of you did wish Shanks was nearby. You didn’t feel all that comfortable around him but he was the person you were most familiar with. Hongo had been taking tools and liquids out of his bag in preparation for the procedures. After putting on a pair of glasses, Hongo snapped on a pair of rubber gloves.

“It’s not gonna feel great, but I’ll try to make it as painless as possible, OK? Let’s start with your neck, I think that’s the most severe. Did you wash it in the bath?” He asked, using the stool Shanks had previously occupied. You nodded in confirmation that you had followed the doctor’s orders.

“Let’s take a look, yeah?” You tilted your head to allow the doctor access to your neck. Even though you knew he was going to touch you, you still flinched when he made contact with your skin. “I’m gonna clean it and drain the pus. After I’m gonna have to stitch it,” the doctor informed you. You heard the sound of liquid moving and felt alcohol being applied to your neck. Not wanting to interrupt Hongo’s work, you stayed as still as you could even as the alcohol burned on contact with your wound.

“See? Not even a single reaction outta me,” you heard Shanks say in the background and Beckman grunted in response to his captain.

After wiping down the area, you heard the clanging of metal as Hongo picked up a scalpel. You closed your eyes and waited for the sharp pain as the knife met your skin. Based on other wounds you’d received, you knew the doctor was trying to be gentle but you still hissed as he cut into you and pressed on the wound.

“No, sit down. She’s fine -”

“I AM sitting down, but I just wanna go -”

“No, stay put.” You heard Shanks and Beckman arguing on the other side of the room. Hongo was right to bring the first mate, it sounded like Shanks was having a hard time watching the doctor tend to your wounds. You wondered if it was from possessiveness, like Kid, or because he didn’t like watching you being hurt. You didn’t think about it for long as a sharp pain crowded out your train of thought when the doctor began pressing on your wound to drain the pus.

“Not much more, almost there. It’s a deep wound, otherwise I wouldn’t have to stitch it.” You whimpered as the doctor pushed even harder for a moment, then covered the area with gauze. You heard scuffling again.

“Let go of me Benn, I need to - I said stop shoving me!” Shanks’ voice rose with more anger in his voice. His scent was starting to bloom, filling the air with the smell of oranges and cloves in an unconscious effort to soothe you.

“One more time and you’re out of the cabin until he’s done. Stop talking and distracting everyone. You know it’s for her own good so Let Hongo work,” Benn huffed. You couldn’t concentrate on Shanks anymore because the doctor started to stitch. You closed your lips into a thin line and screwed your eyes shut in a futile effort to block out the pain.

“Ah, relax, relax. If you tense your muscles it hurts more,” the doctor chided you gently as the needle pricked your skin over and over. You relaxed your face as much as you could. You’d had stitches before and you were no stranger to pain but the bite was in such a delicate and sensitive area you couldn’t help as a few tears escaped your eye. Finally, you heard the words you were waiting for.

“All done, just snipping the end of the thread. One more moment and we can move on.” Scissors were brought close to your face and snipped the end of the medical thread. “Look straight ahead for me?” Hongo instructed you, facing you head on. You looked forward, your neck aching with the effort. “And turn to the other side?” You turned and saw Shanks smiling and waving at you despite being held against the wall by Benn. You dropped your eyes after a moment too long.

“So what’s next? Shanks said you had a foot injury? Those are a real drag,” Hongo said, trying to make light conversation. You nodded and crossed your leg over your knee to show the doctor the sole of your foot. Hongo reached out to pick up your foot by the ankle and peered closely at the wound with his glasses.

“Knife?” he asked abruptly. You nodded. “Accident?” You shook your head.

“Punishment. Ran away,” you said quietly. Hongo hummed and tilted your foot. You used the extra fabric of the extravagant robe to cover yourself more as Hongo lifted your leg and placed your foot on his lap. Shanks growled lightly but otherwise made no noise.

“Luckily it’s pretty shallow. Probably hurts to walk but it should heal quickly. I don’t need to suture it but I am going to wrap it,” Hongo explained. He cleaned the wound and used long nosed tweezers to get a few pieces of debris out. The digging was uncomfortable and made you try to jerk your foot back unintentionally but Hongo’s grip was tight. He finished quickly and wrapped the wound in gauze and bandages.

“Next is the leg, right? Let’s see,” Hongo offered. Your mouth twisted as you thought of having to show the wound. You pointed to the bed and hoped the doctor didn’t think you were arrogant.

“Sure, go ahead and lay down if it's easier for you,” Hongo offered. He picked you up and you heard the Emperor’s rumble returning, making you ball your hands into fists.

“Oi, you’re scaring her Redhair,” Benn said as you were placed on the bed. The rumble stopped for a moment but quickly resumed as soon as you opened your legs to show Hongo the wound. You were covering what you could with the robe but Shanks only got louder as Hongo came closer to you. As his head dipped low to look at it with his glasses, Shanks’s loud roar made you cower.

“That’s it, we’re leaving,” Ben said, manhandling the Emperor out of the cabin. “I’m keeping this one outside. Let us know when you’re done. C’mon you,” Beckman said, still grappling with a struggling Shanks. You knew that if the Emperor really wanted to stay, no one on board could keep him out. You guessed that the Emperor was trying to allow Hongo to take care of you but the Alpha within him didn’t like the other male so close to you. You closed your eyes and willed this experience to be over as soon as possible. Hongo was touching your upper leg in a professional manner but the feeling of someone near your core had you near tears. This wound wasn’t as bad as the one on your neck since you had secretly washed it a few times.

“All done. Good job, Omega. You did better than some of the men on board,” Hongo said before removing the gloves and putting his glasses back in their case. “You stay there, I’ll get Shanks.” No sooner had the doctor finished speaking than the door opened and the Emperor strode in, carrying a basket in his hand. You sat up and gulped, unsure how angry he would be.

“Out,” he said to Hongo before he shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry Hong. What I meant was, thank you. And you were right about Beckman, owe ya one.”

“Owe me a bottle of booze is whatcha owe me,” Hongo said, smiling easily. “Have her eat and go to sleep. Poor thing’s exhausted.”

“Already on it,” Shanks murmured. He placed the basket on the bed as the doctor left, taking his equipment with him. “Didn’t know what you liked, so I took a bit of everything. The crew already ate dinner and those assholes left no leftovers. Well, we didn’t really know you were coming, but Lucky’ll make you whatever you want tomorrow. For now, here’s a little snack.” Shanks reached into the basket and pulled out some cheese, dried meat, grapes, crackers, and some nuts. “I stole a bunch of this from Beckman’s cabin, he’s got good taste.” You hesitatingly reached over to the slices of cheese, taking one in your hand. Biting into it, you nearly moaned. You hadn’t had fresh food in forever, subsisting on whatever Kid remembered to bring into his cabin.

You ate a few more slices in silence, Shanks leaning back on the bed and eating some of the mixed nuts he’d taken. “You want one?” he asked, holding a grape in his hand. You nodded and held out your hand to take one from the bowl. “Ah ah. Open,” he demanded, putting the grape right in front of your lips. You obediently opened your mouth and Shanks popped the fruit in. You didn’t know why but you felt yourself starting to blush faintly. You were wearing the Emperor’s robe, on his bed, after he bathed you, and yet feeding you a grape made you feel embarrassed? You yawned after you swallowed, your eyelids feeling heavy. You wanted to rest but were still unsure if you needed permission.

“Aw, you’re tired? ‘S alright, we can eat more tomorrow. Drink a cup of water and we’ll be off to bed,” Shanks said, pouring water into a cup from a bottle on the nightstand. Handing you the cup, your fingers brushed against his. You drank greedily, draining the cup in seconds. “More?” Shanks asked but you shook your head. He quickly put the food back in the basket and set it on the floor.

“Lay down. You look so sleepy little Omega. Come on, right here next to me on the bed, it’s nice and warm, I’ll hold you,” Shanks cooed at you. Your lip wobbled at the suggestion but you held firm and didn’t cry. You’d spent many nights on the cold floor of Kid’s cabin, your chains pulling at your weakened limbs. Crawling over to the head of the bed, you laid down on your side on one of the fluffy, feather filled pillows. The Emperor covered your body with his heavy blanket and you burrowed down into its warmth while inhaling the rich scent of the Alpha. You’d missed being warm and comfortable at night more than any other luxury, even more than eating regularly. Shanks laid down behind you and pulled you close to his body, draping his arm loosely across your torso.

“Good night, little Omega,” he said, kissing the top of your head.

“Good night, Emperor,” you croaked, already half asleep. One thought tickled the corner of your mind before you could succumb to sleep completely. “The other ship?” You’d felt the Emperor’s boat rock earlier but you were too focused on your circumstances to notice anything else.

“Hm? Kid’s ship? Dorry and Broggy cut it in half,” Shanks mumbled while running his hand up and down your ribs. You hummed happily and let sleep overtake you.

Taglist: @mfreedomstuff @v1ennie @staarflowerr @treelogirl @rebeccawinters @nocturnalrorobin @mochiclouds @cursedforlife666 @epochal-oracle

#abo shanks #alpha beta omega #omegaverse #omega reader #Emperor's Prize #op x y/n #tw yandere #red haired pirates #red haired shanks #Hongo #benn beckman #protective Shanks #tw trauma #tw abuse #yandere Shanks

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caffeinewitchcraft · 1 year ago

Text

The Hero and Hope (Part 2/5)

(part 1) (part 3)

The next time you go hunting, the Bahrs go with you.

“It’s really fine,” you protest. It’s early enough in the morning that the air carries a bite. With any luck, they’ll think the redness in your cheeks comes from the chill rather than embarrassment. “I’m not even going far in. It’s Hera’s birthday coming up and she likes squirrel…”

“You’re going to catch a squirrel without a blade?” Mr. Bahr – Ivan – asks. He tightens the strap on Mrs. Bahr’s back, making sure the quiver of arrows is snug along her spine. He pats her shoulder when he finishes and beams at you. “Are you very fast?”

Yes, you are. You’ve noticed that you’re even faster lately as your 15th birthday marches closer and closer. You purse your lips. “I set traps.”

“Don’t mind him, Isla,” Mrs. Bahr -Marie - says. She fondly shoves Ivan off the porch of the orphanage so she can get down. “He’s always joking.”

“What sort of traps?” Ivan asks. He runs a critical eye over your coat and pack. “Will that be warm enough?”

You’re not sure if your coat is warm enough for the weather or not. Another rising power: you’re nearly impervious to the cold. You shrug. “I’ll be fine. And just simple snares and stuff.”

“We can’t wait to see,” Ivan declares. He gestures towards the road. “Lead the way.”

You bite your lip. It’s clear that they knew you were going hunting today by their garb. Both are in sturdy, worn leather with swords on their hips and bows along their backs. They probably heard from Director Sarah and came specifically to make sure you kept your promise not to hunt alone. But… “The other kids will be sorry they missed you.”

“We’ll see them when we return victorious with birthday squirrels,” Ivan says.

“What a sentence,” Marie says dryly.

You aren’t going to convince them to let you go alone. You silently lead the way towards the orchard. Or, rather, as silently as you can. Ivan talks the whole time, asking questions about the apple trees and pointing to ducks flying overhead. You answer the questions you know the answer to and hum whenever you don’t. You wish you knew more about the vegetation, but the most you can tell Ivan is whether or not something is poisonous.

“Those ones,” you say, nodding to the low, circular leaves Mr. Bahr is pointing to, “are tricky. The real ones taste kind of sweet. The other kind that looks like that makes your stomach cramp for three days straight.”

“How can you tell the difference?” Ivan asks.

You shrug. “You can’t. I just tell the younger kids to bring it to me before eating it. Usually, I trade it for something actually edible.”

Marie, trailing behind you both, makes a noise of interest. “Usually?”

You feel your ears go hot. “Sometimes I’ll try it for them just to see if they can eat it. I’ve had enough of the bad one that it doesn’t affect me so much.”

“You try it?” Marie’s voice is sharp. “Isla, there has to be a better way.”

“Not really,” you say. You scratch the back of your head and quicken your step. You’re almost to the tree line of the woods. “The kids like sweet things. If I didn’t give in occasionally, they’d try it themselves. At least this way they check in with me first.”

“I still don’t think—”

“Sounds like Marie and I’ll be bringing some sweets along with us next time,” Ivan interrupts cheerfully. He points past the last apple tree about a dozen feet ahead. “Looks like the path ends there?”

“There’s an animal track about ten feet into the woods,” you say. You’re uncomfortable with Marie’s reaction. You know it’s not smart to eat poisonous plants, but what else were you supposed to do? Your worst fear is that the kids will one day get hungry enough to eat them without caring about the pain. Your shoulders round. “We’ll need to be quiet once we’re there.”

“I’m the best at being quiet,” Ivan says. He elbows Marie. “Right, Marie?”

“Right,” Marie says. Her voice is still a little strained, but you can tell she’s trying to hide it. “That’s why I married you.”

“That’s a lie,” Ivan says. He stage-whispers to you, “She married me for my amazingly dashing good looks.”

Marie huffs a laugh but doesn’t say anything else. You’ve entered the forest.

You were worried on the way that you’d need to tell Ivan that he needs to be quiet in the forest. You needn’t have been concerned. Both adults are silent and walk with quiet steps, their dark eyes alert on their surroundings. They move through the undergrowth gracefully, their years of experience showing in every step. You try to copy Marie’s soft footfalls as best you can and are pleased when your steps get a little quieter.

The Bahrs watch as you pick places for your traps. Ivan silently points to one of your knots, eyebrow raised. Guessing what he’s asking, you undo the knot and then redo it slowly. He nods in satisfaction and then gestures for you to give him the rope. Curiously, you do. Ivan completes the same knot, fingers steady through each step. When he’s done, he presents it to you proudly as if to say, See? I did it!

It makes you do something you very rarely do in the woods. You smile.

After setting the traps you take the Bahrs to your favorite resting spot. The clearing lies just by the edge of the shallow part of the river. About a mile downstream the banks widen and the North River joins this one, making it a dangerous place of rapids. Here, however, the water moves slowly and is shallow enough to be warmed by the sun.

Finally, you speak. “Shouldn’t be too long. Maybe an hour or two and then we can go check on them.”

“Is this where you found the horned rabbit?” Marie asks. You sit on a large, flat rock by the river, but she stays standing. Her eyes carefully scan the perimeter of the clearing.

“Not quite. That was near the hills.” You point. “Fifteen minutes that way.”

“That’s close,” Ivan says. He frowns, concerned. “Was that the first demon you’ve seen here?”

“No.” When the Bahrs turn to you in alarm, you shrug. “Not all the time, but demons come here. They’re usually not interested in me though.”

“But the horned rabbit was?” Marie asks.

Interested is an understatement. You’re not an idiot. You know that demons are dangerous. That’s why you usually avoid them when you spot them. Normally they’re content to let you pass by, but not the horned rabbit. It followed you nearly all the way back to the orchard before you realized you needed to do something before it attacked you. “Yeah.”

“What other types of demons do you see here?” Ivan asks. His voice is light, but he’s looking at you with a very serious expression. “Maybe howling bats?”

“I hear them sometimes,” you say, “but I don’t stick around after dark.” Ivan and Marie exchange dark looks. You fidget on the rock. “What?”

“This is protected land, Isla,” Marie says. She purses her lips. “No demons should be south of those hills.”

“What other types have you seen?” Ivan asks again. He comes to squat by you so he can look you in the eyes. “And when?”

“Just horned rabbits.”

“Are you sure?” Marie asks. She runs a hand over her hair, slicking back the fly aways. “Horned rabbits aren’t usually sighted alone.”

You hesitate. It’s true that the horned rabbits are the only demons you’ve seen, but… “There have been some signs lately, but I don’t know if they’re demons.”

Ivan’s eyes sharpen. “What?”

“Wolves,” you say. Both Bahrs stiffen, hands going to their swords. You speak quickly. “But I’ve never seen them! They might be regular wolves. I found the tracks at the base of the hill, and some bones, but they were a week old probably.”

“We’ll need to ask the Lord to investigate,” Marie tells Ivan. She looks deeply unhappy. “The patrol doesn’t cover this far south.”

“An oversight,” Ivan says grimly. He reaches out absently and ruffles your hair. It startles you, but it feels nice. Ivan makes an effort to smile at you. “Good eyes, Isla. Is there anything else you’ve noticed changing in the forest lately? Even something not demon related?”

Something funny is happening in your chest. Good eyes, Isla. You wrack your brain for anything else. “I haven’t seen any other tracks or anything and there’s only been four or five horned rabbits this season.”

Marie makes a small noise in her throat. When you turn to look at her, she hides whatever expression she’d been making. “That’s a lot. Did you need to use your sharp stick on all of them?”

Ivan startles. “Sharp stick?”

You rub the back of you neck. “Just two.” You look up at the sky. You only had a sharp stick that day, but there are times when you’ve come out here with a knife. Knife days are for when you’re looking for bigger game. “I’ve been pretty lucky hunting lately, now that I think about it. There’s been more deer and regular rabbits south of the river.”

“What do you mean ‘lately?’”

“The past month.”

Ivan and Marie exchange another long look. Before you can ask them what’s wrong, Ivan turns to you with another smile.

“Say,” he says, “what do you think about trying to bag something bigger than a squirrel today? You ever fire a bow before?”

Your eyes widen. “No.”

“You can use mine,” Marie says, pulling it from her shoulder. She holds it out to you. “We’re nearly the same height. The draw may be a bit heavy for you—or not.”

Embarrassed by the shock in her voice, you release the string. “I’m, uh, stronger than I look.”

“Good,” Ivan says. “That’ll make it easier to actually catch something today.”

The next few hours are the most fun you’ve ever had in the woods. Marie and Ivan go over every part of the bow with you, explaining the weight of it, the flexibility, the length. Marie and Ivan carry several different types of arrows with different tips, all good for different types of shooting. They let you practice on a tree across the river and each time you’re closer to hitting the center of it, they compliment how fast you’re learning, how accurate your eye, how steady and consistent your draw.

By the time they let you hunt with it, you feel like you’re walking on clouds.

The feeling lasts even after you return to the orphanage, a deer slung over Marie’s shoulders and your hands full of squirrel. There’s a pleasant ache in your back and arms from practicing with the bow. You can’t stop smiling. Everything Ivan says is out of the blue and Marie’s tired responses make it all funny.

At one point you’re walking behind them, watching their shoulders brush when the path gets a little too narrow. They’re smiling at each other and talking softly and for a wild, wonderful, awful moment, you imagine that you can keep this. You aren’t sure what this is. Their attention and their companionship, their gentle guidance and the way they speak to you like you’re an adult?

After Hera’s birthday dinner, the Bahrs stay extra late to help clean up and to spend time with the younger kids. You are still feeling a sort of bone deep happiness you’ve never felt before. Everyone is full and sleepy-eyed from the amount of food you were able to put on the table. The kids gather around their slates in the common area, learning a new type of drawing game from Ivan and Marie.

Hera comes up to where you’re leaning on the doorway. Quietly, she slips her hand into yours. You squeeze it.

“Thanks for the squirrel,” she says quietly.

You lean down and press a kiss to the top of her head. “Happy Birthday.”

She hums and watches the fun in the living room for a long moment. She’s eleven now, three years older than you were that Winter. She’s the second oldest in the orphanage and, for the first time, you wonder if she feels the same sort of responsibility as you.

“I’m happy for you, you know,” Hera says.

You make a low questioning noise in your throat.

“The Bahrs will be good to you,” Hera says. She looks up at you evenly, a small smile tucked into the corner of her mouth. “You deserve that, Isla.”

Every muscle in your chest locks, chasing away the pleasant languidness you’d been feeling. “That’s not—they’re not—”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Hera says. She stands on tiptoe so she can throw her arms around your shoulders, hugging you like she did when she was five. She whispers in your ear, “But I would be happy if they did.”

She lets go of you before you can tell her she’s being ridiculous, skipping into the room to join the drawing game.

You feel out of sorts for the rest of the night.

-----------------------.

(part 1) (part 3)

Thanks for reading! The full story is already posted on my Patreon (X)! If you'd like to support me, please consider checking out my page!

This month will be seeing two main things update on Patreon first: Dandelion (x) and my Cinderella story (masterpost coming soon!) updates for both coming later this week!

#my writing #the hero and hope #second person #multi part fic #short story #kind of #the total piece is 20k words

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imdumbhi · 7 months ago

Text

☆ ＣＡＵＳＡＬ

summary: basically what the title says lol

pairings: vi ✘ fem!reader

warnings: angst, smut

a/n: I hope you enjoy!

╰┈➤ MASTERLIST

If it wasn't for those stupid powder blue eyes, you would have known better to have walked away and not into a fucking wall.

How pathetic of you.

You were knee deep. That cut on her upper lip being the first thing you feel when her mouth collides with yours and feeling blown away by how she kisses you.

Vi kisses you like she misses you. It throws you off a bit because you never been kissed this way before. It's like experiencing a drug for the first time and wanting more because the second she pulls away from kissing you, you crave more.

How did you find her? You found her in a bar, drunk off her ass with no one around to guide her or help her as she babbles about some chick from Topside. You don't care. Yet, Vi did. 'I miss her blue hair' or 'She was so sweet', it was honestly sad. The sight of people like Vi astonishes you because you hadn't seen yourself ever being in their place.

That was foolish of you to believe.

The second you feel her fingers slide teasingly through your wet puffy folds, a moan slips from your mouth and your hips twitch towards her touch. That had your clit twitching for attention. Your glossy eyes with furrow brows then peer down, watching the pad of Vi's thumb move up to rub firmly against your clit. She kisses your gasp away and makes a circular motion.

How did you get here? She kissed you and grope your ass while trying to lead her down a dark alley.

You really couldn't help it. She was so hot.

And she wouldn't stop touching you.

The way she had touched you, taking her time and actually paying attention to how your body responds to her touches — maybe it was the whispers of sweet nothings or the kisses with something sweet and bitter. Or maybe you just don't go out much. The fact that you tried to come up with many excuses to convince yourself that what you were doing was okay when really, you would find yourself staring at a wall. Literally.

The flashes of Vi between your thighs never subsides. That memory has been playing in your head ever since she left the house Sunday afternoon. Her tongue swirling and lapping at your puffy wet folds like a hungry dog, god did she know what she was doing. Your fingers had thread through her pink hair, gripping a fistful and tugging her close to meet your grinding. Your pussy lips and clit sliding back and forth on her flat wet tongue in just the right ways.

"Good? 'Mm..." You remember her raspy voice and the look/feeling of her face when asking against your cunt, teasing your clit with a flick of her tongue and without warning teasing your slick opening. You can feel her tongue push in and push out, the pace slow but Vi kept pushing her face further. Her nose breathing heavily and pretty powder eyes staring greedy for your reaction.

Then there was this aggravating voice-

"Why the fuck are you moping and staring at the wall like that? It's weird, stop it."

"Am not."

"What? Yes you are. I can clearly see you doing it right now."

"Then fucking pretend you don't!"

"I can't! You're in the way!"

"Oh. Why didn't you say so?"

Art, your best friend ever since you were a child, sighs at you like he can't believe you're you and keeps walking by carrying a box of supplies. You and him own a shop in Zaun. It's small but pretty popular since the shop sells specific and expensive pieces of metals of all kinds. How do you get them? Art is pretty friendly and known with a Topsider, they trade a lot. You just don't know what exactly.

He comes back to find you staring but not at nothing, at someone.

"Hello, uh, did you need anything?" Art spoke for you. He then noticed the staring and mouth gaping by you.

The woman doesn't say anything. She does stare back at you.

"I'm so sorry about her." Art apologizes to the woman sincerely.

Silence falls in the shop. You can only hear faint music in the background.

"Wait, did you do something bad?" Art breaks the silence, frowning and squinting his eyes at you when he realizes the woman with pink wild hair is wearing hextech gloves. He knows you can't get that tech just from anywhere.

You break off the staring and blink, turning your head slowly over at Art with a 'what the fuck?' look when he assume you did something to break the law.

Shit is expensive and rare down here in Zaun, he thought as his eyes check the woman out. He could see how attractive and butch the woman was. She did look injured and bloody in some parts of her face but Art hasn't seen anyone like her around and if he had, he knew — he then notice your staring.

"Well did you?" He rose his brows at you.

"No!"

─── ⋆⋅𖤐⋅⋆ ───

She wanted to talk.

Talking isn't this.

Your face flush and press into Vi's shoulder, your nails digging into her back. The sound of slick and wet fills the room, along with skin to skin. The woman above you had her strong hands wrapped around your thighs, holding them as she repeatedly thrusts her hips between your thighs.

Plat! Plat! Plat! Plat!

She felt so incredibly good that it hurt. You shove your face further into her shoulder and dig your nails deeper into her tatted back. She was getting rough, angling her hips and moving deeper. She was practically hitting your cervix. It wasn't fair and she hadn't let you up once. Vi was driven to make you lose control.

"Yessss!" It's cried out and for some reason that just causes Vi to drive harder into you. Shes grunting and huffing on top looking drunk on you. The bed creaking and your eyes shaking with emotion as you watch her above. You almost forget that this is only—

The pink haired girl slips out, you, gasping confuse feel her strong hands guide your ass to straddle her lap. Your pussy glistens and swallows her fake cock in one go, Vi growls at the sight. She starts to help you ride her and you think she's deeper than before.

"That's right..." Her words tickle your skin and you can't help but ride faster, your hips moving back and forth. But then, your eyes find hers when leaning back and you instantly want to be good, better, for her. You start raising your hips and slamming them down, your hands using her shoulders for support.

Plat! Plat! Plat! Plat!

"Ffff-fuck~"

Vi curse with a long moan and with her hands, they move to your ass to grope and squeeze. You gasp at the treatment by her. You suddenly then cry out her name again when she shifts under and thrust up, your vision going white. You didn't expect that but you aren't complaining when you're near the edge.

Everything is completely perfect 'till that name slips from her mouth.

"Caitlyn!"

That's how you found yourself awkwardly stopping and climbing off her lap. You know she's embarrassed when she doesn't stop you or apologize. You could also feel how tense she had been after she said it. You grab a blanket and cover yourself, sitting at the edge of the bed.

"It's fine. Don't worry." You reassured her, tone slightly playful and light, your back turned towards her. You don't know why you said it that way or that in general when it clearly wasn't but you'll believe it because you don't get to be upset. Vi isn't your girlfriend nor will she be, you had to constantly remind yourself what you walked into.

You feel the bed behind you move and suddenly feel empty. You frown and turn your head to find Vi undoing the strap-on. You can see from her pink cheeks and narrowed brows, she was either upset or still embarrassed. Maybe both?

"Vi?"

"Can't even fucking do this without thinking about her..." You caught her muttering under her breath. She's definitely angry with the way she throws the strap across the room. She's huffing and puffing, her mouth trembling.

"Vi." You call her name softer this time.

Glistening powder blue look into your eyes and your heart flutters then twists at the reminder of the woman's clear lover. You could wonder and ask about what had happened but you don't. You wanted to help her forget even if you're left feeling used.

You offer her your hand which she glances at and hesitantly takes. You smile, pulling her back onto the bed.

"My turn."

It's only causal.

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hanihaato · 1 year ago

Text

a/n: yandere aventurine x female reader, suggestive, non-consensual touching and forced kisses

“Ah, ah, ah, don’t say a word, darling,” a glowed finger pressed to your lips makes words die on your tongue almost as effectively as the Aventurine’s vivid, piercing eyes. Except for the shallow breaths, you stay in silence, and he glides his hand from your lips to cup your cheekbone. “I must say, you are really bold, testing my connections like that to find you. Being sceptical is a great quality…”

He pushes you onto the bed and lays on top of you, interlocking your fingers together so you don’t ever try to push him off yourself. He stares at you, his smile growing smug with your every try to wiggle out yourself of the embrace.

Aventurine’s head falls on your shoulder. You shiver as he chuckles and his warm breath sends a chill through your spine he muchly adores tracing his fingers on.

“…But not when it comes to me.”

You turn your head away from him. Ugh, you wish you could have at least a full day without him, but you could pride yourself in having a plan good enough to escape the room he locked you up two weeks ago when you first arrived on this planet.

Though, it hurts your ego a bit that Aventurine doesn’t seem to be bothered at all.

He shifts on the bed, and you hate how the sheets that smelled of the hotel’s cleanliness are already starting to stink with his perfumes. The smell you once loved now suffocates you with each breath.

He wraps his arm around your waist so he spoons your back for a second before grasping you tighter and throwing you over himself, having you face him. He entangles your legs before you can think of hitting him with a knee.

You whisper into the pillows.

“…At least I know you are a real deal.”

Aventurine chuckles in a tone you would find endearing if you didn’t feel he laughs at you. When he first started to show you the best parts of the world he’s been living in—the casinos that always had a nice pianist playing on a grand piano, the numerous vine tastings, the breakfasts that make your mouth water, clothing that feels like silk in touch—you could hear the tone everywhere, usually just by your ear. He then told you how he loved how your eyes shone and how much more enchanting you look every day.

You wonder which night he started to plan to cut you off from both worlds, yours and his, to only have him as your everything.

“That’s news to me,” he says, theatrically raising his eyebrows. “You didn’t believe me at all? You must know, darling, that everything I told you after we got together is true. That’s a real privilege right there.”

His finger starts to trace circular patterns on your forearm’s skin. Your heart throbs painfully.

“Aventurine…” Your voice is as demanding as can be the voice of a woman squished in the arms of a man who knows how to use words and guns. “I don’t believe you really love me. That’s not how love looks like.”

The man is still in his position. He blinks, and his eyes are fully on you. You have yet to find out if that look is a warning for you or whether he is enticed by what are you saying. Or maybe he just wants to hear your voice—you know Aventurine is not a man above misleading you into believing you aren’t in a hopeless position just to hear your pleas.

“When you love someone, you want the best for them. You want— You see them as equals. You don’t strip them of what they love to do, and… and people they love. You just… join their life and slowly build a new one together…”

When you fall silent, Aventurine pulls you in and with the other hand brushes hair off your face.

He hums. “That’s an inspiring speech. Oh, and I loved how you looked when you talked about it. Such a view. You must’ve thought about it for quite a while, huh?” He pats you on the head, lingering a bit to loosely twirl your hair on his fingers. “But, dearest, everything you’ve said, well, it all checks out.”

“No.”

“I do view as equals. We have a trade: my everlasting love for a bit of your freedom. It looks like a good deal.”

“It doesn’t look like—”

Aventurine shuts you up with a kiss. You hate, hate, hate this feeling, because in these moments you wonder if you could ever truly fall in love with a man you despise that gives you the hugs you long for and kisses you think about for days.

As he pulls away, with your free hand, you wipe off the traces of the kiss on your lips. Of course, you know it’s meaningless—he kissed you many times, you would have to count in hundreds at least—he will revenge you for that later.

“Awh, don’t be like that,” He says, kissing you again and holding your wrists this time. “You know, I pride myself in being a good businessman. If you are going to put your undying love for me, I will give you the freedom back.”

“You may beg all you want, but with begging you can’t get my love.”

It’s a brave thing to say when you are at the mercy of a man who’s famished for your affection.

“Hm, is that so?” Aventurine chuckles, but for the first time in the evening, it lacks the usual flippancy. He begins to pepper your neck with kisses, and you feel his sturdy hands travel down your stomach and a tugging on your shirt. “Well, say what you want, darling. But since you’ve been by my side for such a long time, you must know I only engage in bets I know I will win.”

#honkai star rail #hsr #aventurine #aventurine x reader #yandere aventurine x reader #yandere aventurine #yandere hsr #yandere hsr x reader #hsr x reader #yandere honkai star rail x reader #the act

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bluefootedbooby · 2 months ago

Note

Hmmmm what about jinx x reader with the hexstrap? 🤭🤭

Take it so well.

nsfw

Jinx was tinkering at her desk, hands fastening intricate leather straps together with rivets. You stride over, smile on your coy face before hugging her.

“Leather? Didn’t realize I was dating a leather smith.”

She chuckles, turning her head to kiss your jawline. “I’m a jack of many trades.” Jinx nibbles the angle of your jaw, kissing and licking your sweet spot. Your hand gently trails to her chest, softly caressing and squeezing her small breasts. Jinx grips your wrist with a smile. “Alright, I gotta focus!” She tilts her head back to her work. You take a moment, your chin on her shoulder, to observe her work.

Yeah… you recognized what it was, a strap-on, but more than that. The leather was embedded with runes, tubes and metal pieces. At the top was a small circular slot that protruded out similar to the one on her zapper gun. On the side was a pouch of glowing crystals, her hex gems that she stole.

“Man, I haven’t seen those since…”

The air seemed to suck out of the room, your mouth shutting immediately. Your eyes instinctively going towards the child drawings on Jinx’s mirror. Jinx twitched slightly eyes wide before her hand combed through her buzzed hair to get herself together. She kissed your hand holding it close.

“I was going over those notes from the Golden Boy. Lots of useful stuff in there. Some of these runes are really powerful. And ya know, a little combining and they make a whole bunch of new stuff! Pretty neat huh?”

She bounced back so quickly, but honestly it was for the best right now.

“Yeah.”

You smile, your hand touching the etched leather.

“So… it’s clearly a strap-on. But um… What does it do?”

And then… that wicked smile that meant you were in for a ride. Jinx grabbed one of the stones, holding it between her fingers a moment.

“Head to the bed, kay? Lemme suit up!”

Jinx laughed out picking up the leather strap-on. She whisked off to somewhere concealed from your view. While she was gone you made your way to the bed, sitting down on the messy surface and waiting for your blazing bluenette. Of course, Jinx always took too long just to tease you and after five minutes of you waiting and squirming in your own pool of excitement she came out wearing the strap-on, the shaft glowing blue with a holographic texture, pasties over her tits shaped like hearts, and high lacey stockings that she customized with her stripe pattern. Jinx held her hands behind her back as she made her way over, the strap almost looked flaccid but when Jinx got near you and your breath panted in front of the toy you swore you could see it twitching.

“Ya like? It’s special… I can feel it all~” Jinx poked the tip of the toy causing her to squirm a little at the sensation. “Whaddaya think?”

You pause, looking at the slightly erect toy in front of you. It’s almost an instinct but you lean in and kiss the side of it. Jinx whined, the toy lifting up more as Jinx grew more aroused. Your eyes raised in wonder seeing her get harder and harder until the toy pointed up in a slight curve twitching and throbbing demanding attention.

———

You barely prepped, Jinx was behind you with her hands kneading your ass as the tip of the holographic dildo kissed your soaked entrance. “Shit toots-- I can feel you —you’re so good…”

Slowly it eased in, Jinx gasped at the electric currents firing her nerves and causing an insane rush of pleasure. It didn’t take much effort for her to glide the toy deep into your core. It was so new, so tight and warm.

“That feel good?”

“Mhm…” Was all you got out before Jinx began to thrust her hips forward and back, rocking into you as her hand remained on your waist. Sure, you’ve used dildos before but seeing Jinx’s fucked out face as she got to feel how warm you were made the whole thing feel so much better.

Lewd and pornographic, their positions changed like a dance routine each second as Jinx wanted to feel you at every angle. Biting her lip as she stared down at your face as your eyes rolled back. “Oh look at you, look at this cunt! You take it so well.. fuuuck! Gonna make me nut in you, bet you’d loveee that.” Your head nodded, tears welling in your eyes as she put her all into you.

In, out, in, out. The slapping noises filling the room as Jinx got closer and closer. “Fuuuck… Fuck! Trinket, I-I’m gonna cum inside you..” It thrilled you those words, her cumming inside you. You didn’t know how that felt, you’ve only been with Jinx and you didn’t care to change that. But the thought did excite you so much that when you began to feel her throb harder inside you, you pushed over the edge first.

“Ah! Jinx! Mm— oooh..!” Your pussy tightened, heating up like the inside of an engine pipe as your orgasm washed across your body. Just feeling that… hearing that. You felt it, some sort of fluid shooting inside you. It didn’t matter what it was or where it came from, those questions you can figure out later. But she was cumming inside you. Her nails dug moons into your skin as Jinx moaned and bent over so her chest was pressed to your body before she pulled out to let her fluid paint your back and ass just because she could.

“Holy… fuck… toots.”

She panted out, bottom lip heavy and eyes tired. From your aching cunt white and slightly blue shimmering fluid dripped onto your clit and down to the bed. Your legs shook and eventually you collapsed down onto the bed. The toy was now soft and Jinx pressed a button and the holograph faded. Soft lips meeting your cheek before you felt a tongue slide across your back and ass as she licked up her ropes.

“Mm, gross.” You joked with your head in your arms. Jinx sat up before lying down next to you to brush a strand of hair away from your eyes. “You love me though~” She teased as her fingers pinched your red and sensitive cheek.

“I do,”

“Good, cause I love you too.”

—————————————————————————

💙🪿

#arcane #arcane x reader #arcane fanfic #jinx x reader #jinx x fem reader #jinxarcane

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 3 months ago

Text

A Curse [Chapter 12: Mount Olympus] [Series Finale]

Series summary: You are an aspiring actress. Aegon is a washed-up and disenchanted agent…at least until he sees something special in you. But within paradisical seaside Los Angeles you find terrible dangers and temptations, secrets and lies. Maybe Aegon’s right; maybe the City of Angels really is a curse.

Chapter warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), age-gap situationship, illness/death/medical stuff, a totally relaxing and lovely destination wedding!

Word count: 5.6k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Tagging: @lauraneedstochill @mrs-starkgaryen @chattylurker @neithriddle @ecstaticactus, more in comments! 🥰

“So what’s your plan?” Jace asks as you peer into the tiny circular mirror of your makeup compact and manically blend out your eyeshadow, three shimmering earthen shades by NARS: Gold Rush, Ashes to Ashes, Valhalla. The flight attendants were kind enough to let you stuff yourself into your dress at the back of the plane; there wasn’t enough room in the bathroom. “You’ll wait until the priest does the whole ‘speak now or forever hold your peace’ thing and then object in front of everybody?”

That is a horrifying prospect. “I think I can catch Aegon right before the ceremony, like when he’s walking from the hotel to the beach.”

Jace checks the time on his phone, raises his eyebrows, shakes his head. Through the window, you can see that the plane is descending through cumulus clouds—cotton-ball fluffs kicked up by the trade winds that blow in from the east—and the ground is moving closer, an island of emerald green foliage and shallow turquoise seawater before the plunging abyssal drop-off of the continental shelf.

“Maybe they’ll be running late,” you say hopefully.

“If sunset is at 7 p.m. like Google said, they won’t have much wiggle room. If they’re delayed longer than five or ten minutes, they’ll be getting married in the dark.”

“We can make it,” you insist, determined to will it into reality.

“And then you’re going to...what? Tell your old, rich, terminally ill agent that he should marry you instead?”

“I don’t really know what I’m going to say.” You’ve never been much of a planner. “But I’ll convince him to stop the wedding somehow. I’ll tell him how I feel.” I’ll be honest. I’ll be real.

Jace is skeptical. “Okay. Great.”

He scrolls through his phone; now the plane is low enough for him to get cell reception. You open Spotify and put in your earbuds, stare out the small oval-shaped window, and blast Lose Yourself as loud as it goes.

Turbulence, touchdown, taxiing to the gate; when the pilot indicates it is safe to move around the cabin, you and Jace are the first passengers in the aisle. The door opens and you sprint through Providenciales International Airport, blessedly small, only one terminal and nine gates. There are a line of taxis waiting outside for tourists. You and Jace scramble into one of them, tossing your small carry-on suitcases into the trunk. You give the taxi driver the name of the resort and several crumpled twenty-dollar bills yanked from your purse so he’ll rush. As swaying palm trees and an increasingly blood orange skyline rush by beyond the car window, you check the time on your phone: 6:19 p.m.

The resort is only ten minutes from the airport, but there is a long line of taxis waiting to drop off their passengers. You and Jace get out and start running, toting your rolling suitcases. You careen into the lobby, ask an alarmed employee where the wedding venue is, and are pointed to a set of automatic sliding glass doors. They open onto the beach, a vast stretch of sand and a grove of palm trees, and then in the distance—right at the brink of the glimmering dusk waves, as if they are about to topple in—you spy a hazy sea of people in white chairs and an archway shrouded in prismatic blooms of foreign, tropical flowers.

“That’s gotta be it, right?” Jace pants, but you’re already flying over the sand dunes, pitching and wobbling in your wedges, your suitcase bumping along as you drag it behind you. The sun is vanishing and the stars are coming out, tiny freckles of silver light in a rage-and-lilac sky. Gulls swoop and circle overhead. The glittering waves creep closer towards high tide. You over-rotate your left ankle as you stumble down an embankment of sand, and an old wound wakes back up like a dragon, like a vampire, a monster that opens flesh with fangs.

You and Jace stagger up to the edge of the ceremony, and elderly, scowling guests twist around in their wooden chairs to condemn your lateness. Under the archway at the front of the congregation, an officiant is standing with the happy couple in white. Becca is wearing one of those very expensive gowns that is supposed to look effortless: lace, strapless, clinging to all the right places. Aegon is in a linen suit that fits him perfectly, but the wind has torn his hair from its gel. He is holding a microphone and smiling as he tells the story of how he and Becca met. He hasn’t seen you yet.

“What are you doing?!” Jace whispers to you. “Say you object!”

“I think that part already happened,” you say. Then you sink numbly into an empty chair and after a moment, Jace sits down beside you. The nearby guests frown disapprovingly as you both gasp for air after your futile race across shifting sand, your hair disheveled and your clothes damp with sweat, your electric yellow gown that Baela once criticized as being a prom dress, Jace’s Hawaiian shirt and khaki pants. You awkwardly shove your suitcases under your chairs. And you think, tears stinging in your eyes, ocean wind burning in your lungs: I’m too late.

“It was a charity gala in Encino. She had a date and I had a date,” Aegon is saying, and an endeared chuckle rolls through the audience. “But Becca brought one of those miniature lint rollers in her purse, and she ended up following me around all night trying to fix my suit. That really left an impression on me, how attentive she was, how naturally giving and kind. And by the time the party was over, we had somehow both abandoned our respective dates.” More laughter, more charmed, yearning sighs. I shouldn’t be here, you think; it’s not something meant for you to see. These are the phantoms of someone else’s past, they’re the bricks of a future that has nothing to do with you.

Now Becca has the microphone, and she’s talking about how she saw Aegon’s movies when she was young but she never believed she’d meet him in real life, but then she did and it was like her wildest dreams had come true because he was so handsome and funny and smart, and he filled her home with a warmth she’d never known before.

I want to leave, you think; but then Aegon spots you from where he stands under the blooming archway and he beams, the dying light radiant on his face, and gives you a little wave. Like a reflex, you smile back. What else can you do? Then Aegon’s eyes flick to Jace and he frowns and turns his attention back to Becca.

Becca is telling the guests that she and Aegon are a team, and that they are facing his diagnosis together. In reply, there are solemn nods and murmurs of admiration. Far from you, up in the front row, you spot Aemond—black suit, tidy hair despite the breeze—leaning over to whisper something to his mother, who is dabbing at her eyes with a Kleenex from a travel-sized pack. Becca is saying she is honored that Aegon chose her to be his partner at this crucial juncture in his life. She is saying that she won’t let him down.

The rings are brought forth by a lumbering, wheezing Pekingese with a small velvet pouch tied to its collar. The officiant pronounces them husband and wife. The couple kiss, Becca smiling as her long dark tresses blow in the wind, still somehow miraculously untangled and frizzless, Aegon perhaps a little sheepish, breaking the kiss first. The crowd applauds and the bride and groom are escorted away by a fleet of photographers to take pictures. The rest of you are led off to the cocktail hour, a large white tent full of tiny tables and surrounded by torches that provide beacons of flickering light as the last rays of sun vanish from the sky.

Jace orders a beer from the open bar; you get a lemon drop you barely touch. Waiters weave among the guests with trays of Caribbean hors d’oeuvres: Johnnycakes, conch fritters, jerk chicken on skewers, plantain chips with mango salsa, coconut shrimp, curried mussels. A troop of hired musicians are playing maracas, box guitars, and conga drums.

“What are we going to do now?” Jace asks.

From a corner of the tent, you’re staring vacuously at where Helaena is dancing with her children, laughing, twirling, jumping up and down. “I don’t know.”

“I mean, are you still going to try to talk to him, or...?”

“I don’t know, Jace.”

“We need a hotel for the night, so we should make reservations somewhere. And those plane tickets were roundtrip, right?”

“Yeah. We’re flying back tomorrow.”

“Because your movie starts filming on Monday.”

“It does.”

Jace whistles. “Busy weekend.”

You’re not confident you can reply without crying, so you don’t say anything.

“Well,” Jace says. “If you need anything, I’ll be over by the build-your-own-taco bar.”

You check your phone: nothing but five missed calls from your parents. They must have seen you charge the plane tickets to your credit card. You swallow noisily and then ask Jace in a miserable squeak: “Can you please make a reservation somewhere? I’ll pay you back.”

“Okay.”

“Not this resort.”

He smirks beneath somber eyes, like he pities you. “Got it.” He saunters off, then immediately returns. “Wait. The only credit card I have on me is Baela’s, and they make you show ID when you check in.”

You sigh. “Forget it. I’ll handle the reservation.” If my parents haven’t frozen my card by then.

“Cool,” Jace says, and is gone again.

You lurk in the corner Googling hotels and sipping your lemon drop, waiting for Aegon to reappear. There is a group of beautiful, influencer-type women nearby, drinking champagne and taking turns snapping photos of each other in front of an elaborate flower display and issuing stern directions: Move to the right, fix your hair, your hand looks weird when you put it there. In the center of the flowers, there is a glowing pink neon sign that reads happiness.

“Oh my God, it’s so sad,” one of the women says as she scrolls through the pictures her friends just took of her, searching for the perfect image to post.

“So sad,” the others mutter in agreement.

“Like, Becca is absolutely incredible for what she’s doing.”

“Can you imagine?” a woman in a short orange dress muses. “Sneaking around to surprise your fiancé with his-and-hers ancestry test results, freaking swabbing his cheek for DNA while he’s asleep, thinking you’re going to bond over both being part Italian or something, only to find out he’s dying?”

One of the friends looks at her a tad smugly. “Becca did tell you she was Native American.”

Orange dress lady rolls her eyes. “She’s like two percent!”

Becca breezes into the tent and is immediately descended upon by fawning wedding guests, who gush over her dress and her vows as they gulp champagne and nibble on hors d’oeuvres. From across the room her eyes meet yours—only for a moment—and she grins, incandescently triumphant. She won, in even more ways than she knows.

Where’s Aegon?

You peer around the tent; he doesn’t appear to have returned with Becca. You find all the members of Aegon’s immediate family, and you find his former clients Steve, Fatima, and Angus...but you can’t find him.

Is he still outside? Is he alone?

You watch Becca mingling with guests until she turns so that her back is to you, and then you slip out of the tent and into the night, torchlight and moonlight and the endless opaque sheen of the Atlantic Ocean. You don’t see anyone.

Where would photographers take romantic sunset wedding pictures?

Right by the water, of course. You trot down towards the waves, your wedges slipping on the sand, your left ankle throbbing. You pause to take off your wedges and carry them instead.

“Aegon?” you call, but all you hear in reply is the dull primordial roar of the ocean.

You keep walking, gingerly stepping around fractured seashells that could cut your bare feet, and then at last you find him at the water’s edge: pensive, sitting with his legs crossed and his white linen suit filthy with wet sand, chomping on a piece of Juicy Fruit.

Aegon looks over and smiles weakly. “Hey, sunshine.”

“Hi.” You plop down next to him, your yellow dress billowing out around you: V-neck, voluminous tulle ruffles, a high-low hemline that stops in the front just above your knees. The air is hot, humid, threaded with distant sounds of laughter and music; the stars are getting brighter. “You know where you’re supposed to be right now, don’t you?”

“Yeah. I told Becca I needed a minute to decompress. It’s good to see you.” And then Aegon adds, a joke with something weary and aching underneath: “Although I don’t think I invited your boyfriend.”

“So guess what.”

“What?”

“Jace is actually my roommate Baela’s boyfriend.”

Aegon is taken aback; then he absorbs it and chuckles, delighted. “And that’s why he went back to your apartment after the gala. Not because you’re fucking.”

“Exactly.”

“Why’d he fly all the way out here with you?”

You shrug. “He’s bored. He’s unemployed. He misses Baela and needs a distraction. He likes free food. And we might sort of be friends now.”

Aegon nods and gazes out over the ocean; when calm waves break and bubble up over the sand, the froth covers your feet. Under the moonlight, you can see the deepening creases around his eyes, the weight that he’s lost in his cheeks, all the small ways in which he is disappearing. You wish you could touch him; you don’t know if he’d want that. “I thought I would feel relieved afterwards, like I knew I made the right decision,” Aegon says after a while. “But I just feel the same way I did when I woke up this morning.”

“How did you feel this morning?”

“Like I missed you.”

You peer down at the sand, where you have been drawing tiny stars without realizing it. “Aegon, I didn’t come to Turks and Caicos to watch you get married,” you confess. “I came here to change your mind. But I was too late.”

He looks at you, startled. “What were you going to say?”

I hadn’t decided yet, you think, but of course now you’re out of time. You take a deep breath and begin. “I was going to tell you that I have read and watched more about Huntington’s disease in the past three weeks than I’ve ever learned about anything, and there was never a second when I felt that I didn’t want to be with you through all of it.”

Aegon shakes his head and studies the waves, his blonde hair blowing in the wind, his turbulent blue eyes glistening.

“And I wouldn’t give up acting,” you continue. “I would film my movie, and I would do the promo stuff, and then I would...you know...I might slow down for a little while so I could spend time with you while you’re still...while you’re still really here. Not because you need me to, or because I feel obligated, but because I want to. You’re the only person who believed in me. I believe in you too. I believe you still have a lot of good days left. ”

Now Aegon is watching you again, his face unreadable. The low omnipresent rumble of the ocean fills every gap, every microcosm silence.

“And we could do IVF and have a healthy baby, and you’d be able to meet them, and your family and I would have them forever, and I know they’d be wonderful because you are. They’d be kind and warm and real, and the world would be better off with pieces of you in it. And when you’re dead...” Your voice breaks and you have to stop, close your eyes, collect yourself. Then you press on determinedly. “When you’re dead, Aegon, I’ll be in my thirties, I’ll be younger than you are now, and I’ll have my whole life ahead of me. So don’t think that you’re taking anything away from me because you’re not. You’re giving me the time you have left. And I could never think you’re a curse.”

Then suddenly you can read him: he has seen this vision too, he has haunted this ghost-life from corners and doorways, he has longed savagely to inhabit it. “You have to put me away somewhere when I get bad,” he says quietly. “I’ll pick a place and you’ll put me there, and you won’t visit, and you’ll protect people from me. Yourself, my family, our child.”

“I will,” you promise, not sure that you are telling the truth.

“Okay,” Aegon says.

“Okay...? What does that mean?”

“It worked. You’ve convinced me.” He smiles and takes your hand, the one that has been drawing stars in the sand. “Let’s go home.”

“But you just got married.”

“That’s not always a permanent condition, sunshine,” Aegon says, and when he kisses you the warmth of it is all-consuming, and you are home in a way you never were with anyone else, not in Minnesota, not even in Los Angeles, and this is a place that once you’ve found you can never leave. Your fingers are grasping the white linen of his suit jacket, drawing him closer, needing every minute he has left. He tastes like Juicy Fruit, sweet and bright like sunlight. His hands are gliding beneath the weightless tulle ruffles of your yellow gown.

You protest with your words, though not with your body: “Aegon, it’s your wedding night.”

“I know, I know,” he murmurs, kissing your lips, your face, your throat. “It’s insane, it’s wrong, it’s impulsive, but I love you. And I don’t want to waste any time. And my dick is working right now, so...”

You laugh as you fall back onto the sand, waves nipping at your bare feet, Aegon whisking away your silk panties, positioning himself between your thighs, discovering that you are already wet; you know exactly what he’s going to do for you, you have no doubts where he will take you.

“I appreciate how easy this dress is to get under,” Aegon is purring through your windswept hair as you moan, the sand cool and soft beneath you.

“You remember the limo?”

“I remember the limo very fondly.”

You are tugging off his suit jacket and wrestling with the buttons of the shirt underneath. He is yanking the straps of your dress off your shoulders, needing to see you, to touch you, to taste the salt of the sea spray on your skin, to know for the first time that who he loves is who he’ll get to keep.

“Oh fuck,” Aegon sighs, dropping his head in defeat. “I don’t have a condom.”

“I can’t get pregnant tonight,” you tell him in a breathless rush. “I’m getting my period in like two days, I already have cramps, my uterus is useless. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

And he’s here again, grinning, euphoric, lost in you. He sees the stars you’ve drawn in the sand, then glances up at the night sky full of constellations. “Stars above, stars below,” he whispers, and kisses you deeply, his hips rocking as he eases into you—slow, kind, perfect—and neither of you are going to last long tonight, and that’s okay. You’ll have other nights. You have more time.

There is a horrified shriek and then an emptiness as Aegon pulls away from you, and you turn to see her standing on the sand: Becca with her white lace wedding gown, rings sparkling on her left hand, a long dark shock of hair that streams out behind her as gales of wind blow in off the Atlantic Ocean.

“Becca,” Aegon begins.

“You bitch!” she hisses, and then dives for you, hands clawing, teeth bared. You scream and hide behind Aegon, cowering on the sand as he stands and fixes his pants, holding up his palms to stop his wife. When she tries to skirt around him to get to you, he blocks her. “You can’t do this,” Becca tells him, and now she’s sobbing. “There are things I can look the other way for, but this, Aegon, this?! It’s our wedding. It’s our day. Send her home. Make her leave now.”

“Becca, this isn’t going to work.”

“What are you talking about?! We’re married!”

“And I thought that was the right thing to do.” Aegon’s voice is calm, patient, apologetic...but unmovable. “I really, really did. But I was wrong.”

Becca is thunderstruck. “But I’m the one you chose,” she says. “I’m the person you want to spend your last years with. You could have had anyone, but you chose me. Not her, not your family, but me. Because I’m the one you trust, I’m the one who has earned this. Because you love me more than any of the others.”

In reply, there is only Aegon’s silence, only these sounds: the ocean, the wind, the faint far-off festivities of the cocktail hour.

When Becca speaks, her voice is frail and childlike. “But I did everything right.”

“I didn’t,” Aegon says. “But I’m going to try to from here on out.”

She reels backwards, several unsteady steps in her flat sandals that glint with crystals. She touches her hands to her face, like she’s hoping it will wake her up. “This can’t be happening.”

“Becca, I am so sorry. About everything.” And in his words is the weight of every wrong he’s ever inflicted on her, the absence of everything she was denied. There is no changing the history; there are only new pages to be written. “You deserve someone who can give you what you want.”

“Fuck you,” she pitches at him, snarling through tears. “I can’t believe you. I hate you.” And then she whirls and flees: kicking up sand, weeping as she wonders what she’ll tell her friends.

Aegon exhales, collapses onto the sand, rubs his face and drags his fingers through his hair. You reach for him, a palm to his chest, bare from where you opened his shirt. Beneath your hand, his heartbeat is thunderous. “Aegon...are you alright?”

“I’m going to have a lot of uncomfortable conversations in about ten minutes,” he says. Then he turns to you, cradles the curve of your jaw, ghosts his thumbprint across your lips. “But I’d like to stay here with you until then.”

And there as the frothing star-speckled waves soak your gown and Aegon’s suit, he finishes what he started; and you finish too.

~~~~~~~~~~

Flashbulbs strobe and reporters clamor. On the red carpet, you pose for photographs with Santiago, Chloe, Dusty, and a dozen other people from the cast and crew. You wear a Versace ballgown, massive and gold and glittering. You chose your eyeshadow to match: Too Faced and Natasha Denona, Golden Light and Ray.

The film wasn’t out of post-production in time for Sundance, Berlin, or South by Southwest, but it was ready for Cannes in May, and now Tribeca at the start of June. Next will be Venice, and then Toronto, and then the long march of awards season in the fall and winter. The nationwide theatrical release will be in July. There is already Oscar buzz; film critics are writing that you are all but guaranteed a Best Actress nomination.

Reporters are shouting your name, because they know who you are now. You have a very lucrative advertising campaign with Cold Stone Creamery. You did a segment on Good Morning America where you taught the hosts how to make ice cream, giggling as they spilled sprinkles and Oreo pieces all over the floor. Your Grey’s Anatomy episode was one of the highest-rated of the season. Sometimes when you’re out and about in Los Angeles, people will ask you for autographs. When you see pictures or video clips of yourself, you are effervescent, ever-smiling; you don’t even remember doing it. It’s just what happens.

“Can you tell us what this experience has been like for you?” a cheerful correspondent from E! News asks as she holds a microphone to your glossy red lips. “Going from being completely unknown to a breakout star in just the past few months?”

“I’m so grateful for everyone who has helped me get to this point,” you say. “On this film, I got to work with people who were so passionate and genuine and kind, and it really affirmed my faith in what I’m doing with my life, and that I belong in this industry, and that so does anybody else who has a dream even if no one believes in you yet. You just have to find people who believe in you. I have a wonderful agent, her name is Kristen, and my manager Tim, and my stylist Aurora, who indulges all my super uncool ideas...I am so thankful to have a team who are working so hard every day to make this possible.”

“And I’ve heard you have a certain nickname on set, is that right?”

You chuckle and nod. “It is, yeah.”

“People you work with call you Sunshine, because of your enthusiasm and positivity!”

“My husband started that,” you say, beaming. “When we met, almost exactly a year ago. And then I guess he did it so much that other people started picking up on it.”

“Well, it certainly suits you. And your husband...he’s here tonight, isn’t he? I think I spotted him around here somewhere...um...oh yes, there he is! Hi, Aegon!”

He waves from the sidelines, butter yellow suit, sand-colored hair slicked back from his face. He walks with a cane now, because he’s getting unsteady on his feet; but you found one that makes him smile. In the spherical knob of the handle, transparently clear glass, is suspended a Mario figurine leaping up to catch a star. Brandon, who is standing with Aegon, waves too. He has been promoted from receptionist to executive personal assistant, which means that he and his boyfriend were able to purchase a house in Venice Beach. When you’re working, Brandon makes sure that Aegon doesn’t lose track of time, or forget how to get somewhere, or lose his phone or his keys or anything like that. At home in Los Angeles, Aegon is still holding on to his office in Elysian Park. When he’s feeling good—clear, bright, in control—he makes calls to help out aspiring actors he bumps into. Other times, he just plays his Nintendo 64, exercising his motor skills to keep them for as long as he can. And then when you’re free you pick him up for ice cream, or In-N-Out Burger, or lunch beside a tank of antagonistic oscars in Chinatown.

“And how do you feel about how well this film is being received?” the E! News correspondent asks. “Its rollout is just getting started, and it’s already generating so much publicity! That must be very exciting for you. I’m sure you’re being offered roles all the time now.”

“It’s such an honor, every review, every award, it shows the cast and crew who poured so much into this movie that their efforts and talents are being recognized. But you know...” You hesitate. “I think...for me personally...it’s really nice to feel like I’ve proven myself with this project, and that if I want to take some time off to spend with my husband, I have that flexibility. I can dip in and out of acting and take the roles I feel I have the bandwidth for, and know that something like this—an extremely inspiring and fulfilling but also demanding role that requires travel and long hours—is always there waiting when the time is right.”

“Of course, of course,” the woman from E! News says, her tone sympathetic. Everyone is aware of Aegon’s diagnosis, though they are usually tactful enough not to mention it outright. They also politely ignore the messy timeline: a destination wedding, a clearly unamicable split, another marriage the day after the divorce was finalized. In the aftermath of what happened on Turks and Caicos, Becca cut her hair and posted a number of angry poems on her blog with titles like The World’s Shortest Marriage and Deleted Pinterest Boards, but she recently started dating a Formula 1 driver five years her junior and she seems to be doing a lot better.

It’s time to go inside. You profusely thank the E! News correspondent and say goodbye, then Aegon joins you so you can walk into the screening together, his palm on the small of your back, you leaning into him to whisper: “Did I do okay?”

And Aegon slides his black aviator sunglasses out of his suit jacket and puts them on—You are so bright, sunshine—and smiles proudly as he kisses your cheek. You wear matching gold bands on your ring fingers, simple and subtle and etched with suns and stars.

Afterwards, you fly home to your house on Apollo Drive in a neighborhood called Mount Olympus, just west of Hollywood and east of Beverly Hills, a quick hop southeast on the 101 to Elysian Park, less than an hour from the Targaryen mansion in Malibu when traffic isn’t too bad. The house, built in the 1960s, was a relatively modest two million dollars, three bedrooms and all one story so Aegon can get around when he needs a wheelchair. He has a residential long-term care facility picked out for when he is in the late stages, and you and Aemond lie adamantly and say you’ll send him there, because that’s what Aegon wants to hear.

On the mantle above the fireplace, there is a vase full of dried sunflowers and a plethora of framed photographs from your courthouse wedding: Brandon and his boyfriend, Jace and Baela (still a bit flabbergasted that you made it after all), your new best friend Chloe, Aegon’s mother and siblings smiling, your parents shellshocked but nonetheless hell-bent on making a good impression, Tripp toasting champagne with Daeron, Clara glowering because you somehow managed to beat her to the altar. If you have the first grandchild, she might actually kill you.

Now you and Aegon are in the waiting room, early for your appointment, and a soft dreamy Red Hot Chili Peppers song called If is plucking from the Spotify playlist the receptionist has pulled up on her computer screen. You reach into your purse to get the snacks you packed, because you’re always trying to put weight on Aegon the same way he once plied you with vanilla lattes and Cherry Cokes and boneless spare ribs and cheeseburgers...and still does sometimes, when he remembers. He takes a Honeycrisp apple and feels the weight of it, marvels at the red skin striped with green and gold, recognizes the absence of a recollection, something he describes to you as a black void he falls into, chasms that open up in floors and sidewalks.

“There’s a story with these,” Aegon says.

You smile. “Yeah, there is.”

“Remind me?”

“Later.”

He grins and winks. “Not suitable for public conversation. I get it.” And he bites into the crisp sweet flesh, juice shining on his lips, and then he offers you the apple: an indelible muscle memory, a moment that still lives in him somewhere. You take a bite over the same spot, your tongue and teeth grazing the outline of him.

“Mr. and Mrs. Targaryen?” a nurse says, summoning you, and you follow her to the doctor’s office.

When you only have a few years with someone, every day is a gold rush. And so weeks ago when Aegon did his sperm collection, you went with him into the room, straddled his lap and stroked him until he finished into the plastic cup, his fingers between your legs, your lips to his ear; because when he can get hard, neither of you want to waste it. Your contribution—follicle stimulation and egg retrieval—was less pleasant. The hormones made you feel like a stranger in your own skin, sluggish and gloomy, and you were sore after the procedure. But Aegon was wonderful, ordering takeout and snuggling with you on the couch as you watched the Twilight movies together and giggled about how ridiculous they are.

He had murmured like an apology: “It’s my fault we can’t do this the way normal people do.”

“Yeah. I wish you could just come in me four times a day.”

And he had burst out laughing, because he loves the way you put things: too much honesty, effortlessly real.

Today, the doctor has results: four viable embryos, three of which tested positive for the HTT gene mutation. But one is healthy; one has broken the curse.

“What do you think?” Aegon asks you; but the hope is so bright on his face, a life he once believed was forbidden.

“I think we should do it,” you answer.

The doctor congratulates you both and slides the necessary paperwork across the desk. Aegon’s hand begins to shake as he signs his name. You reach out to steady him; he looks at you and smiles.

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