#Stumbling and Staggering

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Hey do you think ya can explain Barnaby and his illusion smoke a bit? It seems really cool and I don't remember if ya talked about it in depth before

sure! this got a bit longer than i expected!

so i was thinking that Barnaby seems like more of a hands-off kinda guy when it comes to altercations. would rather sit back and make funny commentary! so if he Had to get involved, i imagine it would be from a distance and still in an Entertaining Way!

thus - illusion magic! for this au i've been picturing that he got his paws on some illusionary herb in his early teens. for making people laugh, you know! and help out with the farm - illusions could distract animals, convince them to move on to different pastures, calm the chickens for egg-collecting, etc!

Ms. Beagle didn't really approve, since smoking is harmful, but lucky for the both of them this particular plant doesn't deal as much damage when smoked as normal smoking materials would - like tobacco! something to do with the magic properties! so Barnaby mostly used it for chores (when his mama wasn't paying attention, ofc - it's still a bad habit in her eyes) and entertainment purposes.

how it works: on its own, it doesn't do much when burned. it's not like illusions will waft out of the pipe's bowl, or that sniffing it will give someone hallucinations. in order for it to work properly, the user has to inhale properly, form the Intent of what the illusion should be / look like / behave, then purposefully blow the smoke out with that thought firmly in mind. the reach of the smoke depends on the force of Intent, and the intensity depends on the amount inhaled. those that breathe it in / are surrounded by it will see hallucinations of whatever Barnaby - or whoever the user is - wants them to! it can be literally anything! whether or not the target is fooled depends entirely on the individual, but the herb is potent enough that most are convinced that what they "see" is real (auditory hallucinations only occur if the target breathes in the smoke)

upsides: this form of magic is great for distractions, cover, deescalation, and that kind of thing. if needed, Barnaby could stop a fight with one exhale! it's a pretty powerful trick! it also means that Barnaby has built up a tolerance to illusion magic over the years, so where most of the party would be tricked, Barnaby would be unfazed. the only one with total immunity to the form of magic is Wally!

downsides: if Barnaby uses too much in too short of a time, it will get to him. and since he breathes in the largest amount - undiluted at that - it can fuck him up! using it sparingly / using repeated small amounts doesn't do anything. the most it will do is make him feel slightly untethered, but he has an easy time ignoring it / shaking it off.

in mild cases of the magic getting to him, it's like a bad trip. his proprioception is messed with (basically he gets uncharacteristically clumsy & off-balance), he feels like he's falling, anxiety spikes, and his vision is just... off! there are blind spots (im talking actual blind spots, not spots of black), things are moving in ways that they shouldn't, he has mild auditory hallucinations. the others can help ground him by talking to him, touching him, and confirming what's real and what isn't.

in bad cases, it's like that but 10 times worse. on top of all of the previous symptoms being worsened, he gets extremely vivid hallucinations, and they're very often not fun! it's a simultaneous feeling of dying, going insane, and not knowing what the fuck is going on. Barnaby loses sense of where he is, who's where, what's happening. he can get lost in the hallucinations - he has no way to know that they aren't real. in these terrible trips, no one can really help him. they can't get through the hallucinations, and if they do, the magic morphs Barnaby's perception of them and they end up adding to the effects. honestly the best thing for him is to let him rest somewhere with as little sensory input as possible & leave him be until he starts to come down. physical contact does help, since Barnaby understands on an instinctive level that illusions can't touch him, but it doesn't help half as much as it does w/ the mild trips. and again, the presence of someone can make the hallucinations worse.

so! suffice to say! he doesn't like using the herb all that often, and it's why he Stays Out Of It unless absolutely needed. he has two pouches of the herb - one with the strong stuff, reserved for emergencies / one with just a tiny bit of it mixed in with Barnaby's own personal blend for recreational/everyday use. (he also has an emergency tobacco stash in his pack, but that's only for when he's completely out of his usual blend <3)

extra lil scribble that didn't make it into the lil doodle post... i broke his wrist...

[just-here-for-the-whump]

@whumpgifathon | Day 19 Alt prompt: Heat Exhaustion

Star Trek: Deep Space Nine 2x15 Paradise

[whumpygifs]

[mtap-comics]

Welcome back to my Bad Things Happen Bingo!

Fandom: My time at Portia

Pairing: Arlo x Female Builder

Summary: Elenya had a really bad week. She was completely exhausted and she just wanted a hug from her favourite person, even if she had to stumble up the hill to the Civil Corps Headquarters to get it.

Word count: 5382

Prompt: Stumbling and Staggering

Author’s note: Can please someone stop my brain? I wanted this to be a cute little story to help me get out of my writers block, maybe 2000 to 3000 words, and now we've got this.

This one is more comfort than hurt, so be prepared to call your dentist when you are done with reading!

Oh, and I read through this like, two times, so if you find any mistakes or something doesn't add up, let me know!

Have fun reading!

Warnings: Mentions Blood, Established Relationship, Elenya is tired, Arlo is a sweetheart

Read on AO3: Link

Safe in his arms

Elenya was tired. Not just tired as in "one night of bad sleep", but tired as in "five hours of sleep in the last five days". Her head was throbbing with a mild migraine and her hands were shaking so badly that she had to decide to end her work day early. 

Everything she had tried to build went wrong and when she almost torched her hand trying to weld two steel plates together, she had to admit defeat.

There usually wasn't much that could keep her from working, but even she knew she couldn't work safely in this condition.

The fact that Portia had just been hit by a heat wave didn't help either. The sun was beating down on the residents incessantly, and while that normally didn’t bother her a lot - after all, it was terribly hot in Barnarock all year round - the constant sweating and heat exhausted her even more. Not to mention the headache the bright light was giving her.

God, she really wanted to go back to bed.

But rather than do that, she stumbled up the path to Civil Corps headquarters, her whole being focused on a single goal.

Arlo.

She felt anxious and miserable and just wanted a hug from her boyfriend. As soon as his strong arms wrapped around her body, she always felt better immediately, and that was exactly what she needed right now. Besides, she hoped that maybe she could sleep with him tonight.

After all, the reason she had hardly slept the last few nights was because of terrible nightmares. As soon as she closed her eyes, she was haunted by dark shadows, the sense of danger, and the inexplicable feeling that something bad was about to happen. She couldn't remember the exact dreams after waking up, only the feelings and each time she couldn't go back to sleep.

She had tried to distract herself with work, tried to drive away the anxiety with it, but every night the dreams only got worse.

But maybe she could finally get a good night's sleep when she was in Arlo's arms. Even just being near him made her feel instantly safe, let alone when he held her tightly in his strong arms. 

However, if that didn't help either, then she would probably have to turn to Dr. Xu. Her body was so exhausted by now that she was freezing even in the blazing late afternoon sun, her black shorts and red t-shirt not enough to keep her warm. 

Which really shouldn't even be possible. Because she could feel the sun on her skin, could feel the heat of it, but it didn’t seem to reach her body. Goosebumps crept up her arms.

She really needed some sleep.

~~~~~~

Elenya was glad that most people were hiding from the heat in their houses, leaving no one to notice her stumbling up the hill like a zombie.

Her leg and arms felt like lead, her feet barely lifting off the ground, and her eyes closed from time to time without her noticing. The walk up to Civil Corps headquarters never felt so hard.

She was just at the height of the large tree short of her goal when suddenly a violent dizziness overcame her and she stumbled to the side. She tried to catch herself on the trunk of the tree, but missed. Instead, her left hand scraped the rough bark and she slammed her shoulder hard against the tree.

Ouch...

Disoriented, she clung to the tree for a moment, the pain in her hand and shoulder a good focus point in the process. She preferred to focus on that rather than the world, which continued to spin around her.

Damn, her body was definitely starting to reach its limits. But she only had a few more steps to go, then she could hopefully finally relax in Arlo's arms.

Elenya didn't know how long she stood there like that, but after a while the dizziness finally subsided and she dared to let go of the tree.

Okay, she can do this. Just one step at a time, that's all.

She stumbled on toward her goal. Her coordination was off and her eyes were threatening to close permanently.

God, she was so tired.

After stumbling against the statue of the flying pigs as well, hitting her right hip quite painfully in the process, she finally stood in front of the large orange doors that would finally lead her to Arlo.

Please let him be there.

Of course, the possibility that he wasn't even at headquarters didn't occur to her until she had struggled up the hill, but it was too late now anyway. If he wasn't there, she would just curl up on the nearest soft surface and cry. 

She had no strength left for more.

But luck was on her side, at least in this matter. Cautiously, she opened the door and didn't have to search long before her blurred gaze fell on the familiar shock of red hair. Arlo was sitting at his desk next to the assignment board, his head bent over a document which he was studying intently. He was so engrossed in it that he didn't notice Elenya until her - this time - left hip collided painfully with the corner of the desk as a new wave of dizziness overtook her.

Startled, his head snapped up.

"Elenya! What are you doing here?" Confused and delighted at the same time, his eyes met hers. He slid his chair slightly away from the table, probably to stand up, but Elenya quickly took the chance to step in front of him.

Exhausted, her legs finally gave way under her and she fell onto his lap, her legs straddling his hips.

"Woah, hey, what's wrong?" Alarmed, Arlo's arms wrapped around her shoulders and waist, pulling her tightly against his chest.

Instantly she was flooded with his warmth and she buried her head in his neck, her aching head welcoming the darkness there. Arlo's soothing scent rose to her nose and she finally lost the battle against the tears she had been holding back for days.

They flowed ceaselessly from her eyes and soaked through Arlo's T-shirt.

"Sweetheart?" Concern poured from his every pore, and he tried to push her away from him a little so he could look at her. Quickly, she wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders and buried her face even more into his neck, hiding from the world.

Please, don't let go!

"Sweetheart, what's wrong? What happened?" He wanted to know from her gently but worriedly, but the only thing that left her lips was a sob.

She had reached her limit. 

5 days without proper sleep and terrible nightmares, she just couldn't hold it in anymore. And Arlo's strong arms finally gave her the chance to let go.

Her crying got worse and the arms around her waist and shoulders tightened.

"Hey, shh, it's alright. I'm here. You're alright. Everything's going to be okay. I'm here." Gently, Arlo's soothing mantra swept over her, enveloped her, bathed her in the feeling of safety, and slowly her tears dried up.

Having cried out all the pent-up emotions and fear, she slumped even more in Arlo's arms, her exhaustion even greater than before and a steady ache throbbing in her head.

"Everything's going to be alright, sweetheart." A soft kiss was pressed to the mop of her hair and with a sigh she tried to snuggle even closer to Arlo. Would have loved to melt into him and never come back.

He let her rest for a while like this, before he spoke up again.

"Can you please look at me, sweetie?" Arlo's right hand, which had been wrapped around her shoulders until just now, softly came to rest on the part of her cheek that was visible and tried to gently lift her head.

Reluctantly, she complied with his request.

"Hey, there you are." A soft, loving smile played around his lips, but concern quickly took over his gaze the longer he studied her face.

She didn't even want to know what she looked like right now. She'd already been startled this morning when she'd looked in the mirror. Her face had been completely pale, her eyes irritated and red and with deep shadows underneath. How she looked now after crying, she could only imagine.

Gently, Arlo's rough thumb stroked her wet cheek and she leaned into the touch, seeking even more comfort.

"What happened, darling? You don't look well at all. Are you sick?" Concerned, he studied her face, his thumb still gently caressing her cheek.

For a while she just stared back, examining the familiar features of his face, noticing the almost equally dark shadows under his eyes, the slight stubble on his cheeks, the stress crease between his eyes, and guilt spread through her.

Suddenly she remembered why she hadn’t sought him out earlier. Why she had pushed her body to the brink of exhaustion before seeking help from him.

Earlier in the week, after she had the first nightmare, she had asked him if maybe they could do something together. Just relax for a day, maybe go on a picnic or something. Stress might have been the trigger for her bad dreams and a day with Arlo would be the perfect cure for that, but he had just snapped at her that he didn't have time for that now.

Startled and hurt, she had backed away from him then, but those feelings quickly faded as he immediately apologised to her and she noticed the deeply stressed look on his face.

There were several problems he had to take care of at once, and that while Remy was out of action for several days because of his knee. He hadn't told her exactly what it was about and her offer to help had been turned down as well, so she had decided to leave him alone for a few days and, when he finally had some rest, force him to take a day off and do nothing.

And now she had probably interrupted him in the middle of something important.

"I'm sorry..." Her voice was all hoarse from crying, and she had to clear her throat before she could continue speaking. "I didn't mean..." she hiccupped, "I didn't mean to disturb you..."

"Hey, none of that." Gently, he now lifted his second hand to her cheek as well, cupping her face and pressed his forehead softly against hers, keeping her gaze captive. "You could never bother me. You can always come to me, especially when you're not feeling well. Please tell me what's wrong. It hurts me to see you like this." His voice and touch were so tender that new tears came to her eyes.

How had she ever deserved someone like him?

"I'm sorry anyway. It's just... I haven't been able to sleep for five days. Every time I fall asleep, I wake up from a nightmare shortly after and can't go back to sleep after that. I'm just... I'm just so tired." Frustrated, new tears ran down her cheeks, but Arlo immediately wiped them away, leaning his head back as he did so.

"Oh, my poor sweetie. Why didn't you come to me sooner?" The crease between his eyes deepened with concern and uneasily Elenya averted her gaze.

"Well... You've been so busy and stressed this week, I didn't want to take up your limited time too..." She cringed at how small and uncertain her voice sounded. That was just the best way to make Arlo feel guilty, and that was the last thing she wanted to do.

And sure enough, when she turned her gaze back to his, she could see his eyes twist with guilt.

"Oh..." His hands, still gently cupping her face, were about to lower, but Elenya quickly grabbed his wrists and stopped him. She needed the comfort of that gentle touch, and at the same time she also wanted to show him that she didn't blame him for anything. He immediately understood what she wanted and got back to cradle her face oh so gently.

"I'm so so so sorry love, for snapping at you like that a few days ago. I never meant for you to feel like you couldn't come to me. I'll always be here for you if you need me, okay? Please don't ever forget that. No matter how busy I am, if you need my help, I'll find a way." He pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. "I love you and I always want you to be okay."

His look was serious but full of love and Elenya felt her cheeks blush.

No matter how many times he said those three words to her, they always made her heart race and fill her with happiness.

"I love you too. And you have nothing to apologise for. I saw how stressed you were and I really just didn't want to bother you. But today..." She wanted to say more, but Arlo's eyes, which had been wandering over her face, suddenly widened with shock as they landed on her left hand, still clutching his wrist.

"Elenya! You're bleeding! What happened?" His hands moved away from her face and carefully he pried hers from his wrist.

Confused, she looked down at her hand, which was now held palm up in Arlo's hand.

Oh, she had forgotten about that already. The tree bark had scraped her hand, after all, and the movement must have reopened the barely closed wounds. Now that her attention was drawn back to it, she also felt the burning again.

"Oh, I got dizzy on the way here, and I stumbled against the tree outside. The bark must have scraped my hand in the process." 

"Oh dear, why didn't you say so in the first place? We really need to clean the wounds before they get infected. As bad as this is bleeding, they must be pretty deep. Did you hurt yourself anywhere else?" Concerned, Arlo's gaze darted back and forth between her hand and her eyes.

But at the mention of blood, something entirely different came to her mind.

"Oh no, I hope I didn't bleed all over your shirt!"

She wanted to lean to the side to get a look at his shoulder, but her overtired body didn't play along and a new wave of dizziness overcame her. She tipped to the side more than she wanted to and would have fallen off his lap had Arlo not immediately pulled her back to his chest.

"Hey, careful. Don't hurt yourself more, please." His arms were wrapped tightly around her back again and she let her head fall back against his shoulder, careful not to bring her bloody hand near him this time.

The dizziness wouldn't subside, however, and with a whimper she slumped completely in his lap. The little bit of energy she could muster for their conversation quickly dissipated and what remained was her bone-deep exhaustion.

The arms around her back tightened even more and she could downright feel Arlo's concern.

"I've got you, I'm here. Let me just tend to your hand and then you can lie down, okay?" Worry resonated deep in his voice and she felt bad for causing him more stress, but she only had the strength left to nod in response to his question.

Her head throbbed violently at the motion.

"Okay. Do you think you can stand up? I'd love to carry you, but I'm afraid I can't stand up like this."

"Oh, of course." Her legs felt like jelly, and she wasn't sure they would even carry her anymore, but she couldn't very well stay seated either.

Arlo must have heard her uncertainty in her voice.

"I'll help you, don't worry. Go as slow as you need." His hands moved from her back down to her hips and held her tight. On shaky knees, she managed to get up from his lap with his help and before she knew what was happening, she found herself in his strong arms, one underneath her knees and one behind her back.

He carried her the few steps over to one of the yellow armchairs and set her down carefully in it.

"I'll be right back, okay? I'll just get the first aid kit." Arlo waited until she nodded in understanding and then disappeared into the bathroom.

Looking after him with half-open eyes, she wrapped her arms around herself. Now that she was no longer surrounded by his warmth and security, she started to freeze again and the feeling of anxiety returned.

Fortunately, it really didn't take him long and after only a minute he was kneeling in front of her, the first aid kit lying open beside him.

"Okay, sweetie, can you give me your hand?" Invitingly, he held out his right hand, and she tried to comply with his request, but her hand was shaking so much that she could barely hold it out to him. Quickly, Arlo reached for her hand and gently pulled it toward him, his large hand gently cupping the back of her hand. Even that little bit of skin contact made her feel better.

"Okay, I'll just clean the wounds and then we'll put a clean bandage around your hand. I'm afraid that's going to hurt, but I'm going to go as fast as I can, promise. I don't want them to get infected." Sympathetically, his blue eyes looked up at her and her overtired brain wondered why he was making such a fuss over a scraped hand.

Was he still feeling guilty about not having time for her the last few days?

Whatever it was, she wasn't about to complain. Sure, the cleansing burned terribly in the open wounds, but she hardly noticed. His warm hands were so gentle and careful as he tended to her hand that she hardly perceived anything else. His concerned gaze was fully focused on her, making her feel loved and safe.

Feelings she needed so badly right now to banish the nightmares from her mind.

"There, all done." He lifted her hand up to his lips and pressed a feather-light kiss to her freshly bandaged palm. The warm feeling inside her grew stronger.

"And to get back to my question from earlier, are you hurt anywhere else?" Concerned, his eyes darted over her body, probably searching for other injuries.

She shook her head. "Just a few bruises, I think..." A big yawn escaped her, her eyes drooping and Arlo's eyes softened.

"That's good. Would you like to lie down in my bed for a while now? You need sleep very badly." Arlo straightened back up to his full height and with wide, hopeful eyes she looked up at him.

"Are you coming, too?" 

She didn't need to hear his answer. The look of regret that immediately settled on his face at her question told her what she needed to know.

She slumped in disappointment and felt awful about it at the same time. The dark shadows under his eyes and the tired features told her that he hadn't had an easy week either, and she didn't want him to feel bad about her too, but she knew if she lay down alone now, the nightmares would come right back and she couldn't handle that anymore. She would rather stay awake and accept the consequences.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I really need to go through these documents before I can lie down with you. That will take maybe another half hour, an hour at the most. Do you think you can manage that long on your own?" Remorse filled his voice, but she had to shake her head at his question.

The concern in his gaze deepened and for a moment he stared at her thoughtfully until something seemed to occur to him.

"Oh, wait a minute, I have an idea." He quickly cleaned up the first aid kit, took it back to the bathroom, and then went back to his desk where she couldn't see what he was doing. She heard papers rustling and the scrape of the chair on the floor and then he was standing in front of her again.

With eyes shining warmly, he bent down to her and told her to put her arms around his neck. Confused, she complied and with a startled cry she suddenly found herself in the air, her legs instinctively wrapping around his hips. Like a monkey, she clung to him, her face buried in his neck as his hands held her hips securely.

What was he planning to do?

"Hold on tight." With those words, Arlo started walking, his steps gentle and seemingly undisturbed by her weight. She knew he was walking toward the desk, even if she couldn't see it, and sure enough, a moment later she found herself in the same position as before. Sitting on his lap, her legs to his left and right.

But this time the chair was much closer to the desk - she could feel the edge in her back when she leaned back - and Arlo could still reach his documents now.

"Oh." Surprised, she looked up at him. 

Did that mean she could stay with him without disturbing him?

"So, now I can work and hold you close at the same time. How does that sound?" He lovingly brushed a strand of hair out of her face that had come loose from her ponytail, a gentle smile on his lips, and gratefully she engaged him in a deep kiss.

He returned the kiss without hesitation. His right hand came to rest against her cheek and his left arm, wrapped around her waist, pulled her even closer to him. For a moment, she enjoyed his soft, warm lips on hers before pulling back slightly.

"Thank you, Arlo." Sincere and full of love, she looked deep into his eyes and his gaze softened.

"No need to thank me, sweetheart. Like I said, I'll always find a way to help you. Now you get some rest and I'll go over the rest of these reports, okay?" He pressed another quick, gentle kiss to her lips and then reached for the top paper on his desk. 

Elenya watched him for a moment, admiring the way his beautiful blue eyes flitted intently over the lines, but it wasn't long before her own eyes closed on their own and so she complied with his words.

She placed her head back on his shoulder, her face buried deep in his neck, and gave in to her exhaustion. The arm around her waist tightened a bit more and wrapped in his warmth, scent and security and accompanied by soft paper rustling, she dozed off.

~~~~~~

Elenya awoke some short time later to a rough thumb gently caressing her cheek and an equally soft, rumbling voice whose vibrations she could feel in her chest.

Where was she?

With difficulty she roused from her exhausted sleep, completely disoriented, but at least without panic. The familiar smell around her and the strong chest beneath her told her she was safe. 

What had happened?

A soft groan escaped her. Her body felt like it was filled with lead instead of blood, her eyes itched uncomfortably, her head throbbed in pain and she would have liked to fall back to sleep. But there was still the voice that spoke softly into her ear and the thumb that caressed her cheek.

She woke up a little more and finally she could understand the words.

"Hey sweetie, sorry to wake you up, but I'm done and we can finally go to bed. But for that you would have to stand up again for a moment so that I can stand up as well. Can you do that for me?"

Stand up?

Her eyes opened with difficulty and with great effort, she managed to lift her head, which until now, she realised, had been leaning against Arlo's shoulder. Warm blue eyes and an apologetic smile greeted her, and for a few seconds she just stared at Arlo. 

Her brain struggled to process the words she had just heard, but Arlo didn't rush her and waited patiently for her to be awake enough to carry out his request.

And finally the words made sense and she remembered that she was sitting on his lap, preventing him from getting up.

God, she was way too tired.

But now that she knew what he wanted from her, she nodded and tried to lift herself off his lap. It just wasn't as easy this time, since the desk was right behind her, but as soon as some of her weight was off his legs, Arlo slid back with the chair and she was able to step away from him completely.

Unfortunately, her legs just didn't want to carry her and as soon as Arlo's hands, which had been supporting her hips, let go of her, she stumbled uncontrollably to the side and could only barely hold onto the desk to keep from falling over. Fortunately, she didn't have to hold on for long, though, because shortly after, Arlo was at her side and lifted her back into his arms, bridal style.

"It’s okay, I got you." Startled and worried, his eyes looked down at her and gratefully she let her head fall against his shoulder. 

No matter how many times she fell, Arlo was always there to catch her. And she meant that literally. Even before they had gotten together last winter, she had often found herself in his strong arms when her clumsiness caused her to trip over her own feet or she ran into him, completely distracted by her work.

She was so incredibly lucky to have someone like him by her side.

Pressed tightly against his chest, Arlo carried her over to his room. As soon as they stepped through the door, they were greeted by what was normally pleasantly cool air, but right now was far too cold for her. A shiver ran through her body and goosebumps spread on her arms and seeking warmth, she curled even more against Arlo.

Who, of course, noticed this immediately and a worried frown appeared between his eyes.

"Are you cold?"

She nodded, ashamed. It was terribly hot outside and everyone probably wished they had a room like Arlo's that was built against a ruin so it was always nice and cool in the summer, and here she was, wishing she had something warmer to wear.

"Then it's time we got you to bed. I'll just see if I have something more comfortable for you to wear, okay?" Gently, he set her down on his bed and then, to her bewilderment, disappeared from the room again. 

The soft mattress and cosy blanket invited her to just lie down, but she resisted the urge. She only had to hold out for a few more minutes, then she could lie down.

She could do that.

Arlo came back quickly, with a glass of water in one hand and a bundle of clothes in the other.

"Here, you should really drink something. I don't want you to get dehydrated too." With these words he handed her the glass and with trembling hands she reached for it. She had to hold it with both hands to keep from dropping it, her left hand stinging lightly at the movement and then gratefully drained the glass completely. She hadn't even noticed how dry her throat was.

"Very nice." Arlo took the glass from her again, set it down on the shelf above his bed and then held out the first piece of clothing to her. "Here, Sam always has some spare clothes here, I'm sure she won't mind if you borrow one of her shorts for a night. And then I brought you this one too." He held the second item of clothing out to her and her eyes lit up.

He had brought her his grey sweater!

She loved that one. It was all soft and warm and always smelled wonderful after him, as he loved wearing it as much as she did.

"Thought you'd be happy about that." He chuckled fondly and handed her the comfortable clothes and set about putting on something else as well.

Unfortunately, her heavy arms wouldn't cooperate and she couldn't even manage to take off her current t-shirt. She grumbled in frustration and looked over at Arlo for help. 

"Arlo?" God, her voice was hoarse.

"Yes, darling?" He was just pulling his own shirt over his head and she got the pleasure of watching his back, muscles working as he searched in his closet for a new shirt. She couldn't help but stare.

This was definitely a sight she would never get sick of.

"Sweetheart?" Questioningly, Arlo turned to her after she failed to answer, and sheepishly, she looked to the side.

"I... I need help."

God, she felt so helpless. She couldn't even change herself anymore.

Arlo's gaze softened.

"Of course." Without putting on a new shirt, he came back over to her and bent down to grab the hem of her t-shirt. Effortlessly, he pulled it over her head and then gently helped her free her arms from it. As soon as her upper body was free, goosebumps covered her and she shivered slightly.

Arlo quickly rubbed his wonderfully warm hands over her upper arms to chase away the goosebumps, looking at her questioningly.

"The bra too?"

She nodded. She hated sleeping in a bra.

"Okay." Arlo bent his knees a little more so he was more at her level, then reached behind her back to work on the clasp of her bra.

With that, his now bare chest was right in front of her face, and she felt the warmth radiating from him, drawing her in. She would have liked to touch him, to trace the long scar that ran from his left shoulder down to his chest, ending just above his heart, as she had done so many times before, but as it was, she couldn't even lift her arms to change. So she was content to lean forward a bit and press her cheek against his warm skin.

A happy sigh escaped her. The skin to skin contact felt wonderful and she could hear the calm, strong heartbeat of him. A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest, filling her with warmth, and he let her stay there for a moment, even though her bra had long since come undone.

"Feels good?" A fond laugh resonated in his voice and she hummed contentedly.

The heartbeat beneath her ear soothed her and her eyes fell closed. She could have fallen asleep sitting right here, but a large hand came to cup her cheek and pull her away from the strong, warm chest.

She whined in protest.

Another warm laugh rang out.

"I'm sorry, darling, we can go right back to cuddling as soon as we get you changed. Come on, we're almost done." Arlo managed to dress her in his sweater and change her pants, but how, she couldn't say.

Her body was getting heavier and her uncoordinated movements were probably more of a hindrance than a help, but then he was finally satisfied and tucked her under the covers. She heard the rustle of clothes, the light was turned off, and then Arlo finally slipped into bed beside her.

Strong arms pulled her on top of him and surprised she realised that he hadn't put on a new shirt and she was now lying on his bare chest, her ear pressed back against the same place it had been a moment ago. Her body relaxed completely and with the last of her strength she turned her head to press a soft kiss to his scar.

"Sleep well, my sweet little builder. I'll watch over you." A long, firm kiss on her mop of hair was the last thing she felt before she fell into a deep, exhausted sleep, Arlo's arms wrapped protectively around her.

And when the shadows tried to haunt her again, there were strong arms and a gentle voice that drove them away and what remained was the feeling of warmth and safety.

[chaoticgreenhoodie]

Gonna do some lettering wish me luck

[eyesxxyou]

First Drink 🥃

🍺・・・l. howlett x fem!reader

rating. m

word count. 2.2k

synopsis. you were everything logan shouldn't want. young, religious, and innocent. you were sweet to everyone. and you've never been touched. logan wants to be your first everything.

or

Logan gives you your first drink

warnings. age gap relationship (reader is 21, Logan is nearing 50) , religious reader, innocent reader, drinking, forced alcohol consumption, dubious consent, fingering, squirting, not edited

↳ pt.1 / pt.2 / pt.3

Logan is far from a holy man. He drinks too much, smokes too often, hasn’t even stepped foot in a church in his entire life. He’d like to think he’s a good man though, one who tries to make the right decisions when he can, but he knows that what he’s like to think and the reality of it all were two wildly separate things. For how could he be a good man when he’s got it out for you, a pastor’s daughter?

He didn’t mean for it to happen. Kind of stumbled into it as one stumbles into trying cocaine. That is to say, he didn’t stumble into it at all. It was a deliberate decision made with addictive consequences. You were his neighbor, a meek, kind little thing often wrapped up in your bible while you sit quaintly on the front steps of your family house. You were young, not too young though. Freshly turned 21. Yet you still wore your modest clothing and pretty mary janes with frilly socks.

Logan was a perverted man. There was no way to get around it. You were as kind and as innocent as any one person could be. You spoke to him kindly, you brought him lemonade while he was working on his motorcycle and all he could think about was how pretty you’d look in his lap with his large hand on your tummy, feeling the bulge of his cock nestled nicely against your womb.

It was one of these days when you brought him lemonade and sat with him in his garage that he turned to you, hands covered in grease and oil. “You’re 21 now, right doll?” Logan grabbed a towel from out of the waist of his jeans and used that to clean off his hands before grabbing the small crystalline cup of fresh lemonade to sip on. It was almost as sweet as you, not nearly as pleasing to taste.

You sat on a small crate with your knees close to your chest. The toes of your sleek, black mary janes pointed to each other. “Yes sir.” He liked that about you, how respectfully you spoke to him. It reminded him of how much power he had over you, how many years, how much authority. Oh, he is far from a holy man.

“You had your first drink yet?”

You were a sweet, little thing, flustered at the mere suggestion of drinking alcohol. “Oh, no sir. I don’t drink. My father would never allow it.” You and your tender sensibilities. You and your innocent nature. Logan thought about how easy it would be to have his way with you. You wouldn’t fight, wouldn’t scream, wouldn’t so much as make a peep. You’d be too entranced by the way his fingers slide along your tongue and his length snuggle sits way into the walls of your unused cunt.

Logan hummed softly. “You wanna?” He watched the way your eyes shifted as you considered it, a world within your grasp if you just had the courage to reach for it. He’d give it to you, all of it, a universe of worldly pleasures. Why restrict yourself now to go to heaven when you can have heaven on Earth right here?

“I shouldn’t.” Your voice is slow and unsure. All you needed was a little push and you’d tip right over the edge into depravity. That’s the thing about little girls like you, you long for a touch of what’s beyond you but you’re always too scared to get it.

Logan stood up to his staggering height, all legs and muscular torso. “Come on, no one will know but me and you.” He offered a hand to you and after a moment of hesitation, you placed your hand in his large palm and let him pull you up to your feet and guide you into his house. It was a world you had never before seen, rustic and dark, smelling so strongly of Logan you thought you might faint.

He had a whole cabinet for his alcohol, bottles of scotch, whiskey, and bourbon. Logan grabbed a bottle out of the cabinet along with a whiskey glass for you to sip out of. He poured some out and you watched with utter fascination. The golden brown liquid long kept from you for fear you may lose your spot in Heaven. Worldly pleasures such as drinking doomed you to Hell.

“Come here, doll.” Logan coaxed you towards him with two fingers as he sat down on his couch, legs open just enough to offer you a comfortable seat on his thighs. You trembled like a newborn deer, scared of this strange, new world you’ve found yourself in. He brought you into his lap, his hands resting on your thigh as he pushed the glass of whiskey into your hand. “Go ahead and try it.”

You looked into the glass, golden brown sloshing around. It didn’t look so intimidating, like drinking Coca-Cola. But it didn’t taste like Coca-Cola when you lifted the glass to your lips and took a sip. It tasted bitter and burned your throat as it went down. “I don’t like it.” You pouted softly, turning to look over your shoulder at Logan. His fingers slowly began to gather the fabric of your skirt, pulling it up your thigh. “Just keep drinking, doll.”

You were a good girl. You did as told, entirely unaware of the way his fingers kept pulling at your skirt until it was entirely up your thigh. You felt his rough fingertips against your bare flesh and shivered as he traced figure 8s into your skin. “Mr. Howlett?”

“Shh, keep drinking.” Logan murmured as he felt up your thigh, closer and closer to your heated cunt. You writhed in his lap, simultaneously uncomfortable and aroused as you felt his rough fingers brush against the damp fabric of your cotton panties. The stuck to your pussy lips, wet and sensitive as he pressed his thumb to your clit through the fabric and began to rub. Logan took his free hand and pushed the cup back to your lips, tilting it to force you to drink.

Logan couldn’t help himself. You were here, splayed out before him for the taking. He’d be stupid not to take advantage of, take advantage of you. You didn't fight it, just as he had expected, like a good girl. “Spread your legs now.” He clicked his tongue and crooned into your ear.

Trembling, you shook your head. “I– I can't.” Your voice, all small and meek, only made his pants tighter. You could feel it, the bulge against your ass through his jeans. Or maybe that was the large buckle against his pelvis.

“Yeah you can. Open up, doll.” He shifted you slightly so that you were sitting on one of his thighs. He used his leg to part yours a bit further, skillfully. He’s had many girls in his lap, none as pretty as you.

Logan stroked your quivering cunt. “What a wet little girl you are. You been thinking about this, pretty girl?” He bounced you on his thigh and let you slide further into his fingers. A stifled whimper escaped you as you braced yourself against him. “Mr. Howlett– please.” You pleaded for your innocence, for your integrity. Most importantly, you begged for him not to expose your innermost thoughts. The sinful way you look at him, all muscle and hair and man.

Your fingers grasped at his wrist and forearm, nails digging into his skin. It wasn't like you were trying to move his hand, not like you could if you wanted you.

You gasped as he curled a finger into the side of your soaked panties and pulled them to the side. Your cheeks began to swell with the heat of embarrassment. Of course, you never expected to have any sexual experience before marriage so you hadn't shaved between your legs. Logan didn't mind at all it seemed, his finger dipped between your lovely lips and stroked in tender touches.

You squirmed in his lap, whimpering. “Mr. Howlett, I…I shouldn't. Please.” His thumb pressed on your puffy clit, pulsing with arousal, and you choked as the electrifying jolts of pleasure shooting through your body. You had ever been touched like this before, not even by yourself. Logan’s experienced fingers circled your leaking entrance, teasing at all the possibilities of pleasure.

“No one has to know, doll.” Grunted Logan. He felt the way your pussy fluttered, the whole thing aching with want. He eased a single finger into you, sighing out a sweet “Jesus” at the way your walls clamped down around him. You let out a squeal, back arching away from him, your nails sinking into his hairy forearm. Your entire body shivered. “Too big,” you murmured, “‘s too big.”

You were small, tight, and already complaining that a single finger was too much. How could he possibly fit his fat cock into your cunt? Logan was sure he'd tear you in half, his precious girl. “Relax, grab that bottle and drink some more, baby. It’ll help you loosen up.”

With a shaky hand, you reached out and grabbed the bottle off the table in front of you. You brought it to your lips and sipped at the liquid while Logan rubbed your hip with his free hand. “Good girl. I gonna keep going now.” You shook your head viciously. “No, no, no, ‘m not ready.”

He cared not for your concerns. Free hand pulling your legs apart, Logan curled pulled his finger from your gripping cunt before sliding it back in. You were all warm and soft on the inside, just like you were on the outside, even more so. You squeaked and squealed in his lap, his thumb attacking your clit in ferocious circles.

It’s a feeling you’ve never experienced before, being fucked with a single thick finger. You mewled, mind growing hazy as your hips rocked against your will. Logan knew you wouldn't be able to handle a second finger. He’d rupture your hymen and he wanted to save that honor for when he pushed himself into you and possessed you completely.

You were dripping down his knuckles. He fingered you so hard and fast, you nearly screamed as you thrashed in his lap. “Mmmh ah, ah… ngh.” Something wet trickled out of you and down Logan's hand, clear and dripping. A weak, little squirt, followed by a much larger one.

“I– I’m sorry, I didn't…” You panted out, whining. Logan cooed lowly in your ear. “Got myself a squirter.” He chuckled, a nice puddle on his leg and couch from your sweet show of pleasure. He curled his finger, messaging your soft walls in desperate search of that soft ridge where your g-spot lay.

When he found it, Logan smiled, chucking as you yelped and cried out, a rattling moan shivering up your spine. You tried to slow his hand, grasping and scratching at his arm. You fell back against his chest, legs splayed open while he took the time to abuse your pretty cunt. “You okay, doll?”

You whined vaguely, hazily, your body rolling then slumping, tensing then relaxing. “I– It feels weird.” Something was building within you. Something tight and breathtakingly beautiful. Tears pricked your eyes, wide and pretty, weeping with the brutality of your orgasm, pressing on the edge of unknown pleasures.

And it snapped like a rubber band. Everything that had been held back released all at once, ravishing your body to the point where there goes pointed in your Mary Jane's and your back arched. Shaking, you clawed at Logan's arm so hard you left bright red marks lining his flesh. “Mr. Howlett!”

“Shh, shh, don't want the neighbors to hear you, do you doll?” Logan slowed his hand, pulling his finger from your aching pussy. His entire hand dripped with your cum, sweet and creamy, some slick with your squirt. “Open up, little one.” He teased the tips of his fingers to your lips like he had that glass of whiskey. Coaxing your mouth open, Logan slipped his fingers between your lips and pressed his fingers to your tongue.

You tasted nice, sweet. Your body unmarred by the poison of excessive alcohol, smoking, or junk food. You were clean and pure, untouched by anyone but him. Logan loved it, knowing that he’s the first man to ever touch you. The knowledge was almost as good as an orgasm by itself. You were his, he possessed you. You were his before you were anyone else's.

When you stood, skirt falling back down to your knees, your legs trembled with the aftershock of your first orgasm. You let out a deep, shaky breath, trembling as you turned to look at Logan’s sitting figure. “M–M–Mr. Howlett.” It’s all you could manage to say to him, choking. You had been violated; your sacred temple desecrated.

And you liked it.

Logan hiked himself up to his feet from his couch and stood before you, towering. His hands on your hips, he pulled you in close to him. You braced yourself with your hands against his solid chest. Your cheeks were still wet with tears which Logan wiped away with the pads of his thumbs. “Why don’t you come back tomorrow, doll?”

You were such a good, obedient girl. You nodded slowly. “Yes sir.”

“Good girl.”

[mostly-imagines]

Moonstruck

jason todd x reader

aka sober thoughts and all that

warnings: intoxication

Jason has a thing about drinking around you. He’d kind of skirted around it for a while when you were first dating, but after a while you’d noticed he never really has more than a drink or two regardless of how much you had. The only times you ever see him drink more is when he’s downing whiskey as a pain mitigater when he needs stitches. You’d initially assumed he just wasn’t a big drinker, but eventually you’d come to realize it was more of a matter of not wanting to lose his inhibitions around you. 

You know he’s still working on trusting himself, even sober, because he’s terrified of accidentally hurting you. But you have a hard time imagining him losing control like that in any state and you’re nearly certain he’s just being hard on himself.

You’ve been falling in and out of less than peaceful sleep for the past few hours, having trouble easing yourself while your boyfriend is still out. You at least attempted to get to bed earlier tonight because for once he isn’t out fighting crime and risking injury, though you haven’t found much more luck than usual. 

You lie on your back, half ready to give up and turn on a movie while you wait.

You’re momentarily startled to hear Dick bellow out your name, no regard for the fact that it’s nearing three in the morning and you have neighbors. He’s not much of a shouter so you’re instantly on alert, worried that he or Jason are hurt.

You fumble out of bed and rush to the living room, surprised to find your fire escape empty. You turn, proceeding towards the front door, opening it cautiously. 

“Dick? What—” You don’t need to finish your question because the second you take one good look at the two of them, the state of them is immediately clear. Dick, who’s barely standing upright on his own, supports your boyfriend's weight via Jason’s arm slinged around his shoulder.

“Hey!” Dick grins at you, far more lively than he has any business being this late at night. “Sorry, couldn’t remember which apartment was yours.”

You nod pensively, “Well the perspective’s different than when you’re coming in through the window.”

He continues on past that without thought, “I’ve come to deliver,” he says, gesturing up to Jason with a bit of a strain. You’re pretty sure there were supposed to be a couple more words at the end of that sentence but you understand well enough anyway.

You nod, eyebrows raised and try to hide a smile. “Thanks, Dick.” He shifts your boyfriend off of his shoulder to lean him up against the door frame, where Jason places a majority of his weight.

You eye him warily, not confident in his steadiness. He seems to hold well enough against the heavy door though, his eyes drifting around the tiled floor. Your attention shifts to Dick, who’s clearly satisfied with a job well done and ready to go.

You tilt your head, seeing him turn away. “You good?”

“I’m great!” He calls out with a thumbs up. You watch as he staggers away, nearly missing the exit.

You look back over at Jason, who’s already staring at you with a soft gaze. “You’re pretty,” he fawns, irises blown out and flickering all over your face.

“Oh you’re drunk drunk.” You grin, watching him stumble forward a bit.

He shakes his head, looking a bit dizzy after, “Shoulda seen Tim.”

You pause mid laugh, “…Who drove you here?”

He falters at that, gaze falling to the floor. “Uh…” He winces, “Damian…”

You nod slowly, eyes wide, “We’re gonna talk about that tomorrow.”

“He’s better than you’d think.” You’d hope so. 

Well, at least he’s spending time with his brothers.

You sigh, straightening your posture in preparation for the job to come. “Alright, come on big guy,” you pull him up from his slant against the wall, hauling him into the same position he’d been in with Dick—though you’re struggling significantly more to hold him upright. “You gotta help me out here, Jay,” you grunt, trying very hard not to fold under his weight. You swat the door shut behind you, making peace with the fact that he’ll scold you in the morning for not locking it.

He presses an uncoordinated kiss to the side of your head as you try to shuffle him along, not interested in the least in easing your labor. His self discipline isn't quite gone, but his awareness of how big he is sure seems to be. 

You wobble from the heavy weight of his arm around your shoulders, holding onto him by his waist. You manage to get him to sidestep your cat, narrowly, though Salem hisses at him all the same. Jason takes no notice. You stumble into your bedroom with only about 30% of his usual balance aiding your effort.

He collapses onto the bed the second his legs hit the frame, pulling you down with him. You lie, somewhat awkwardly, on his chest as he holds you tight—probably tighter than he would if he were sober. It feels nice though.

You lie your cheek flat on his chest, relaxing against him. “What’d you guys do? Thought you were just having an easy night.”

He takes a deep breath before answering, “Raided Dick’s liquor c—” he stops, mulling over his words. “...Bruce’s liquor that was in Dick’s cabinet.” He annunciates every word in that sentence very carefully.

You squint speculatively, “Didn’t take Dick for the stealing type.”

He grumbles, “He’s not. ‘Less it’s Bruce.”

You can’t help the smile that breaks out on your face, “Aw, you really do take after your big brother, don’t you?” 

He scoffs at that, “I don’t. I’m the one who gave him the idea.” Yeah, that sounds right.

He taps on your cheek lightly and you pick your head up to find him looking at you with puppy dog eyes.

“What’s that look for?”

“Can I kiss you?” his eyes drop down to your lips, “I really wanna kiss you.” He’s nearly whispering and you feel your heart skip several beats at the feeling of his eyes on you like this.

You press a light kiss to his lips and he practically purrs.  

You pull back, admiring the serene expression on his face. “You taste like whiskey.”

“I like whiskey,” he says honestly.

You smile, nodding. “I know. Don’t know why, but..”

He leans in for another kiss but you parry, only letting his lips meet your cheek. He frowns grimly, attempting to chase your lips. 

“Lemme kiss you,” the pout on his face is adorable and while you hesitate to deny him, you retreat, resting your chin on his chest.

You smile wistfully, tracing his cheekbone, “You’re drunk, baby.”

“‘M not that drunk,” he tells you, though everything about him says otherwise.

Your hand falls flat on his shoulder. “Your eleven year old brother drove you here.”

He shrugs, “He can drive the bat…batcar? Bat…”

“Batmobile,” you finish.

“The batmobile.” he nods, as if he was seconds away from remembering. You suspect he wasn’t. 

“Bruce lets him drive it?” you question, wholly disbelieving.

“No.”

Enough said.

“You’re gonna be hungover as hell in the morning,” you mumble, taking in his uninhibited demeanor.

He nods that off, “‘S okay. You’ll be here, right?”

You tilt your head, observing him chalantly. “Where else would I go?”

His arms snake tighter around you at that, giving you a little squeeze before relenting. 

“I wanna marry you,” he murmurs, brushing your hair out of your face and tucking it neatly behind your ear. 

You blink rapidly a few times, “What?” You push yourself up on his chest, sitting up on his abdomen.

“Wanna marry you.” He repeats, eyes lidded as he breathes easy under you. “You’re m’favorite person…want you t’be my wife.”

Your breath gets caught in your throat. “..You want me to be your wife?”

His lips are slightly parted and his pupils are wide as he stares up at you, taking in your features carefully. “‘Course I do.” He brings his fingers up to your cheek, touching you softly with all the wonderment of a little kid. “You’re so pretty.”

You’re quick to return, “So are you.” Especially right now.

He shuts his eyes momentarily, shaking his head morosely, “You gotta stop bein’ so nice t’me,” he lets his hand fall to rest on your thigh. “Don’t deserve it.”

“Shut up,” you lour, “You deserve it more than anybody.”

“No. Not more than you,” his hands knead at your thighs like it’s an instinct. “You deserve everything.” He closes his eyes, tilting his chin up as his head sinks further back into the pillow. “Think I’d do anything you wanted.”

“Jay—”

He continues on, “Want you t’be happy. Wanna make you happy.”

Your face falls into an expression of dazed awe, “You do make me happy.”

He dwindles at that, “No, really happy. Take care of you. Build you a house, give you babies. Wha’ever you want.”

He paws at your thighs, trying to get you to come closer again to him. You lay back down on top of him and his hand instantly buries itself in your hair, stroking softly. “You’re just…you’re so perfect…” He turns his head to mumble against your forehead, “Feel like I dreamed you, sometimes.”

You breathe deeply against the crook of his neck, eyes feeling glassy. “I love you.” It’s all you can get out, and it’s not enough, but it’s all of it. 

“I love you,” he says like he’s trying to turn it into gospel. “So much. I love you so much, so fuckin’ much.” His words start to get lost in his weary babbling.

Your chest feels full and you can distinctly feel every beat of your heart against it. Or maybe it’s Jason’s heart. But what’s the difference?

You press a tender kiss to the nape of his neck. “You’re really sweet when you’re drunk, you know that?”

He hums lowly, head lulling against yours.

You still for a second, finding his breathing has slowed and his hand has seized its movement in your hair. His soft breaths fill the air as you press a kiss to his collarbone before settling in completely. “You’re gonna love when I tell you about this in the morning,” you whisper, letting your eyes shut too.

💗 likes are the poor mans reblog 💗

[sufrimientilia]

incapacitation

content warning

drugs that make a character woozy and disoriented. slurring words and falling slack, everything too heavy and confusing and muffled

blown pupils, wandering eyes, breathing too much or too little. sweating, shaking, puking, so limp and pale it’s almost like they’re dead

fevers so high a character's mind just turns to mush. glossy eyes tracking the ceiling, listless and unaware until eventually there's sweat sticking all over the sheets and they start mumbling some vague responses to caretaker's questions

tranquilizer dart that brings a character down all at once. one sudden jerk or look of confusion, not enough time to glance at it much less pull it out before eyes are rolling back and they collapse into the dirt

tranquilizer dart that comes on slowly. pulling it out and running and running until each step becomes too uncoordinated, stumbling or getting dragged along by a teammate until even their begging to stay awake, let's go, becomes hazy and distant

struck so hard that everything rings in one ugly roar. staggering or falling, told to sit down, just stay down. so confused and lost, repeating the same questions and forgetting the answer over and over and over again

character so messed up they struggle to follow any part of the conversation. everything too heavy and confusing and muffled, just useless and incoherent and completely oblivious to the situation

nervous prodding or pleading by caretaker, begging them to just stay awake or focus

jostled around by captor, told to get the fuck up and follow orders, easily manhandled and restrained

mumbling nonsense and spilling secrets. stoic characters without any masks, so confused and broken and vulnerable, slipping and powerless in every sort of way

"you're okay, i promise you're okay"

“ah, shit. you’re a mess—”

“I guess you won’t remember this anyways…”

gaze drifting and blank, too faraway to track anything caretaker/captor is saying. nudged and prodded and pleaded at to no avail, just incoherent and out of it

too weak to move. beaten absolutely senseless or bleeding all over the place, a character just hurting and spent beyond means sprawled flat against the ground

getting dragged along or stepped on, pinned down as if they're in any state to go anywhere

hypnotized and stunned into mindlessness. repeated mantras and rewired thoughts, a character made pliable and blank and used like a puppet

paralyzed but fully aware, left slack and useless and desperate with limp muscles and depressed breathing. assumed dead and abandoned, grieved over or dumped aside like a corpse, forced to watch and unable to do anything

poisoned and just getting worse and worse. teammates desperately looking for a cure while character deteriorates, puking and passing out and getting high fevers, hallucinating and begging for relief

characters taken out of commission when they're otherwise the strongest one. exposed to a weakness, given magical restraints or cuffs with neural suppressors to keep them docile, targeted and taken out

vertigo taking a character side to side, brought down and useless

[anisespice]

“ baby steps ” || tokyo rev.

continuation of this post.

pairing: bonten x fem!reader [ mikey, ran, sanzu ]

warnings: mature content ahead. MDI. mature language, crude humor, ANGST w/ comfort (mostly in mikey's), deadbeat!bonten (unintentionally), not proof-read so there may be A LOT of errors :// mikey's is LONG, ran + sanzu's are silly goofy, mikey + sanzu's are a lil unhinged lol and i think that’s it :))

notes: can i just say thank y'all so much for showing "accidents happen" the love that i didn't think it would get, it was made on a whim so i'm so so so happy y'all enjoyed! i tagged as many as i could (or that tumblr would allow) sorry if i missed some of you :( thank you for your patience and let me know how you feel about this continuation format :) !! notes ii: also also, pt. 2 for "accidents happen" coming soon! notes iii: MY COMPUTER CRASHED AND I THOUGHT I LOST EVERYTHING BUT IT'S OKAY IT'S OKAY :'))))

tagged: @fantasycantasy , @illegalspacecow , @captaincyberqueen , @cherryblossiren , @niragiswhore , @awkwardaardvarkforever , @valentsoup , @lovely212 , @miffysoo , @yandere-kouhai , @i-am-just-a-girl-ur-honor , @wisteriarose214 , @kindadolly , @yuwaimo , @sweetbella1221 , @simpingfor-wakasa , @sirachano0dles , @yutahg , @slowlikehonee , @blurpleuni-squid , @haruchiyoreen , @istanstraykidss , @loyard176 , @msluccapotato , @luv444lay , @backgroundcharactera , @jegelskeranime

Ever since you picked up your daughter, there’s been a hovering presence that wouldn’t go away no matter where you went. From the park, to the grocery store, all the way home it clung to you like a bad itch. Despite looking over your shoulder and being met without any sort of threat, that didn’t stop the uneasy feeling. And it only intensified when you received a knock on your front door.

You made a confused hum, checking the time on the microwave to confirm that it was indeed past the reasonable hour for potential visitors. Not to mention, you weren’t expecting anyone.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up, instincts telling you that something wasn’t right, that your best option was to pretend you weren’t home. However, the person on the other side knew otherwise as they knocked on the door again, this time with more fervor. You inhaled sharply, taking hesitant steps towards the door until you were mere feet away from it. Eventually, you worked up the courage to look through the peephole, your brows furrowing in distress when all you could see was black—They were covering it. All the more reason not to open the door…

What if it’s a robber? Ridiculous, they don’t knock.

What if it’s just the neighbor? Why cover the peephole?

More and more did your mind swirl with endless possibilities, each one becoming less and less believable. Taking a long, deep breath, you doubled-checked the door-chain was on before slowly cracking it open. And as you attempted to peek through the sliver, nothing could’ve prepared you for the arm that forced its way through, startling you as you yelped, stumbling back as it made a grab at you.

Before you had the thought of shoving the door closed on the offender’s arm they grabbed the little chain, then yanked it clean out of the wall. To your terror, a dark hooded figure entered your home, head hung low, concealing their identity.

You began to hyperventilate, backing up to keep distance as they staggered further into your home before kicking the door closed behind them, effectively blocking you from the exit. Surely, someone heard your scream and would check in, or call the police. But, how long did you have before the intruder decided to make a move? Not to mention, your sleeping child just down the hall…

With that last thought in mind, you immediately steeled your nerves.

Even if you had to use your bare hands, you were going to do whatever it took to keep your baby out of harms way.

You reached for the closest weapon without taking your eyes off the figure, hands clasping onto a discarded umbrella that was leaned up against a closet door. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do. Taking a defensive stance, you prepared for what you assumed to be the inevitable.

“I-I don’t know who you are, or what you want…b-but if you don’t leave…my..my boyfriend will be home any minute! H-He knows how to fight, and he’ll fuck you up if you try anything!”

Your means of intimation fall on deaf ears. It were as if you hadn’t spoken at all. They just…stood there. Watching you from the darkness. That feeling, that hovering presence you’d been weary about all evening…there was no doubt in your mind it was because of this individual. Suddenly, they gave a watery chuckle, hand coming up to rub the lower half of their face as the chilling noise dissipated into soft snickers.

You sweatdropped. “I mean it! He’ll be here real soon, so you better get out of here before-”

“[_____]…” the figure finally rasped, voice heavy with an emotion you couldn’t decipher in the moment. You froze, eyes widening.

“…How the hell do you know my name?”

Without much urgency, they stepped forward into the light. Beneath the warm glow, it took you mere seconds to recognize the person standing before you. You gasped, trembling hands dropping the umbrella, it landing with a harsh clatter. Soft, mortified hitches in your breath echoed through the small space, memories flashing before your eyes as you covered your gaping mouth.

“M.. Ma..” you whimpered, throat tightening. A shell of a man, who gazed upon you with stormy eyes flooded with tears at the mere sight of you.

He gave another strained laugh, muttering to himself as he soaked you all in. “Needed to know.. Needed to know it was really you…”

Mikey eyed you up, intensely, eerily silent as he did so. Then, he took in the surroundings, the warmth, the interior, the smell of dinner—It truly felt like a home. A bitter pill to swallow once he reminded himself that you built it without him.

His sharp gaze returned to your stunned expression. He sneered.

“Must’ve been easy for you. To forget me and move on, just like that. Like I was nothing.”

You blinked, taken aback. All you could do was remain speechless, cemented to the ground with thoughts and questions racing in your head. Now matter how many times you opened your mouth, no sound would come out aside from choked whimpers.

“Do you know…how long I’d been searching for you? Been mourning for you?” He hissed through clenched teeth. “When you left, I thought… I thought someone had taken you. That I lost you all because I was too stubborn to say I’m sorry…”

As he spoke, Mikey slowly closed the space between you. The more he came into the light, the more you could see how the years had treated him. His cheekbones were more pronounced, the dark circles under his eyes as well. His lips were dry, cracked, his fair skin now ghoulishly pale. If not for the black hoodie you would’ve mistaken him as such; ghost of your past.

Your shoulders shook, hands hovering over your face as you gaped in disbelief. He’d been looking for you?

That night, that stupid fight you could barely remember…he made it crystal clear that he wanted nothing to do with you. He pushed you away. Pushed so hard that you almost believed he really wouldn’t have cared if you dropped dead. You knew he didn’t mean it, knew it was just another dark impulse…but none of that mattered when all your pregnancy tests came back positive just hours prior.

That night, you made the decision for the sake of your daughter. And also, for his sake. At the time, you were certain he wasn’t ready to be a father. He was quick to rage, merciless, losing himself to the darkness you tried to protect him from. If you had stayed, you were certain Mikey would’ve never forgiven himself if he lost control in front of his own flesh and blood, if the child grew to resent him for something he struggled to control.

You thought you were doing him a favor…but it appears to have done the opposite.

“And this whole time…you’ve been here, alive. Playing fucking house with someone else.”

You stiffened. Someone else? Your visible confusion only irritated him further.

He scoffed. “Don’t play dumb. You said it yourself. Too bad he won’t be coming home anytime soon. I’ve already got Sanzu and the Haitanis looking around for the bastard. And when they find him, I’ll make him regret sticking his filthy dick inside you.”

Confusion morphed into realization. You did threaten him with said hypothetical boyfriend…But, that was before you knew it was him!

“Oh, Manjiro…” you whispered. He glared, scorned.

“Don’t you dare pity me. I mean, you got the family you always wanted, right? So who cares who it was with, right? Congratu-fucking-lations.”

You shook your head, exhaling deeply as you held your face in your hands. For years, he thought you dead. Then, when he received word of your appearance, he finds you with child. And not once did he consider that child to be his? It’s like…he couldn’t fathom the thought.

If only he had looked just a little bit closer, he would’ve seen that she had his eyes. How they resembled those pools of ink that used to shine with so much hope back in his youth, so playful and full of love…those same eyes that now gazed upon you with contempt.

It stung.

He thought so low, not only of himself, but of you as well.

Taking a deep breath to reel in your emotions, tears began to well up in your eyes. He assumed they were tears for your doomed lover, further breaking his heart as Mikey clenched his fists to the point of nearly drawing blood. Luckily, even though you struggled to find the right words, someone else happily found them for you.

“Papa..?”

Both of you instantly drew your attention on the toddler standing near the kitchen, one fist clutching her blanket while the other rubbed the sleep from her eye. You glanced at Mikey, and he was stiller than stone. His once dead-stare had morphed into what could only be described as incredulous. Surely, he heard her incorrectly…

With a sniffle, you crouched down to address her, offering a soft grin as you nodded earnestly. “That’s right, sweetheart. Papa’s finally come home.”

The little girl blinked sleepily, taking a second to reboot. But, as soon as the words registered, a bright smile stretched across her face as she excitedly rushed towards Mikey, throwing herself onto his legs and hugging them like a koala as she chirped, “Papa, home!”

Said man hobbled a bit at the force, arms windmilling as he caught himself to keep from falling backwards. He didn’t know what to do with himself, especially when those big, round pools of ink opened and stared right up into his soul. Mikey’s heart nearly stopped. With a hitch in his breath, the gangster did everything he could to hold his composure, looking between you and the child as you both gazed at him with so much warmth…it was suffocating.

Sensing he was overwhelmed, you reached down to scoop up the bubbly bundle, holding her close as you eyed Mikey, apprehensively.

He resembled a cornered animal—Muscles stiff, jaw tight, eyes wild. After a moment, Mikey began to slowly back away into the shadows of your home, conflicted, devastated. It wasn’t until his back hit the door did he eventually fall to his ass, of which caused your child to giggle at how silly he was being. However, all you could do was hold back tears, watching as the reality started to weigh down on a man who just discovered he was a father.

Nervous, you gently explained. “I didn’t leave you because of our spat, Jiro…and I never moved on. I just…thought that I’d be doing more harm than good sticking around when I found out I was pregnant…I didn’t want to add any more stress on your plate, so I…”

Mikey didn’t respond. He sat there, stare vast and unfocused. But, you knew he hung on to every word. So you continued. “I wanted to tell you. But…I wasn’t sure how. At the time, I believed you had stopped caring about me altogether. And to hear you’d been looking for me, I-I’m…I’m so sorry. I’m sorry you harbored all that guilt. I didn’t mean for any of that to happen.”

Your daughter wiggled around in your hold, making small grunts in complaint. Her eyes were trained on his figure huddled in the dark, wanting to be acknowledged, wanting his attention. “Papa!”

Mikey flinched. He focused his gaze on the two you, haloed by the light emitting from the living room. You both were like salvation, reaching down to a broken sinner…How could she want anything to do with him? When he had missed so much already…

To keep from accidentally dropping her, you placed your daughter back on the ground, watching wearily as she wobbled all the way to Mikey, blanket in tow. You weren’t worried about him hurting her, far from it…if anything, he appeared to be the fragile one.

Eventually, she made it to her destination, standing before him with a curious, but eager expression as she rested a hand on his knee. Mikey watched her, took in all of her features, every last detail as he engraved it to memory. She was beautiful, just like her mother. One would think his genes didn’t stand a chance. But the eyes. That was all him. From his mother to his older brother to himself, there was no doubt in his mind that those were Sano eyes.

His lower lip quivered, reaching out hesitantly to caress her cheek. She didn’t cower away, merely babbled as she began patting his knee, allowing his thumb to rub over her chubby cheek. You clasped your hands over your mouth, growing even more emotional at the delicate moment. Mikey looked enamored already, eyes subtly sparkling from what you could see as they interacted.

“I-I told her stories, about you. And I made sure to show her photos, too. Old ones, but still you nonetheless. I wanted her to know who her father truly was. Despite everything else…”

Your daughter cooed, then placed her blanket in Mikey’s lap before climbing into it. Mikey didn’t dare move, rigid as she made herself comfortable. He looked up at you, looking for guidance, for reassurance. Your encouraging smile was enough for him to hesitantly place his hands on her small back for support, carefully adjusting so that she was stable. She laid her head on his chest and stuck her thumb in her mouth, sighing contentedly.

And, for the first time in years, he smiled.

When you hadn’t seen her familiar pigtails bobbing around, or heard any of her excited chatter with the receptionist up front, worry couldn’t even begin to describe what you felt the moment you realize…your daughter wasn’t here.

As soon as the meeting looked like it was wrapping up, you politely excused yourself from the room. Masking your worry wasn't too difficult, but there's no doubt a couple people might've noticed the spring in your step as you exited. One of them being Rindou Haitani. He watched you speed down the hall with mild interest, corner of his mouth ticking up ever so slightly as he thumbed around on his phone beneath the table. Having been updating his older brother during the meeting while he was on his smoke break, he was more than eager to inform him of the storm that was no doubt heading his way.

Little did the younger Haitani know, he was already dealing with one.

"And then, Haruka-kun tries to take Momo-kun's bento box because she had cuter animal shapes, but Momo-kun already said no, and so Haruka-kun pushes Momo-kun, and then tries to take it! But I pushed him and hit him with my fist, like this," she clenched up her tiny fist and held it up to Ran before striking down on his forearm with all her might. It didn't even pitch. "Like that."

The lavender-eyed man merely gazed upon her with mirth. "Did you now?"

"Mmhm! And teacher got so mad, and said that she would tell Ma about me fighting, but she's stupid because Ma didn't pick me up today, and I told Haruka-kun if he snitches, I'll beat 'em up!"

Ran lowly whistled. "Quite the little menace, ain'tcha?"

She pumped her fists. "Yeah!" Then, she paused, holding a finger to her chin in thought. "Wait...what's a menace?"

"Ah, something you inherited from your old man." He ruffled her hair, much to her displeasure. Though her innocent jab earlier regarding his age still hit a sore spot, he was starting to like the sound of it. She, on the other hand, wasn't convinced.

"I already told you; Ma was on her happy juice when she said that. She said not to believe anything she says when she's on happy juice. It makes her do silly things."

Ran chuckled. He knew that all too well. The little girl wouldn't be in this world if not for your inability to hold your liquor. But judging based on how you've raised her so far, clearly you made the right decision keeping him in the dark.

He'll admit, he wasn't the best in terms of commitment. Throughout his day to day, Ran just didn't have the energy. With being in Bonten, keeping an eye out for his younger brother, handling business, dealing with numbskulls and disposing of their bodies, there was never a time to even consider settling down. One-night stands and on and off flings were the easiest choice. At least, until he stumbled upon you.

You were the whole package and more. Classy, independent, witty, and a looker to top it all off. When Bonten started collaborating with the organization you worked in, he couldn't help but to be drawn to you—Like a moth to a flame. It started out as the occasional bantering, trying to one-up the other, catch them off guard. Ran was smooth with his words but could never quite beat your sharp tongue. Thus, things escalated to something more flirtatious. Harmless, but it didn't take long before the months of tension between the both of you began boiling over...and throwing alcohol into the mix, it was the first time Ran finally felt like he had the upper hand. Seeing how poorly you handled just a few glasses of wine, it endeared him. Seeing a piece of you that no one else had the privilege to witness. Your sloppy side, the clumsy, whiny, touchy side. After that long, passionate night beneath the sheets, the one time you and Ran allowed yourselves the space to be vulnerable with one another...you found yourself pregnant. And Ran found himself being nonethewiser.

He wonders, if he hadn't left the next morning and completely ghosted you...would you have kept him in the picture?

Suddenly, his phone dings. Reaching back to pull it from his back pocket, Ran half expected it to just be another update on the meeting or Rindou cursing at him to hurry his ass back inside. But, it wasn't that at all. And at the sound of your kitten heels rushing out of the building and halting at the top of the steps, Ran didn't even need to look up to know who was glowering down from them.

"Hey, Ma! Guess what, the purple man isn't such a meanie after all!"

Ran snorted, finally looking up from his phone to greet the woman who not only still had his heart, but evidently his first child. You, on the other hand, weren't so thrilled to see him.

"Rika. Wait inside. Ma's got some words for the purple man."

He smirked. "Wanna say 'em over a glass of wine?"

"You son of a-!"

"Bad word!" Your daughter covered her ears. You flushed, your composure nearly slipping just by being in his prescence. Ran, immediately seeing the opportunity, teasingly pouts at you whilst covering her tiny hands with his larger ones, shielding her.

"Honey, please, not in front of the child. Can't have her repeating those dirty words at school, can we?"

You fumed, speaking through clenched teeth. "Haitani, as soon as I get her in this building, away from you, I swear to God, I'm gonna wring your neck."

He hummed, amused. "Well. Guess she didn't get her violent side from me after all. Speaking of which, did you know at school today-"

"Hey! No snitching!"

“...What did you say?” 

You were hoping you heard the teacher wrong. Surely it was just your exhaustion taking the wheel. But, when her kind smile didn’t falter, nor did her gushes for the supposed “adorable display”, you immediately grew suspicious.

While heading home from work, you went to pick up your children from daycare. And when you arrived, the teacher merely informed you that it was already taken care of by your very handsome and very devoted husband. 

“I-I think you’re mistaken. My boyfriend and I aren’t married…”

The teacher, finally coming back down to earth, tilted her head in confusion. “Eh? You aren’t?” 

“Did he…say we were?” 

“Well, no. I just assumed since it was easy to tell who he was here for. Hikaru and Kaoru look so much like their daddy.”

You choked on your spit.  Hikaru and Kaoru look so much like their daddy. Hikaru and Kaoru look so much like their daddy.

You did everything in your power to keep from strangling the poor woman. Sure, she didn’t do anything wrong per say…but she sure did make a grave error. And your struggle to restrain your intrusive thoughts must’ve shown on your face from the way she placed a concerned hand on your arm. “Are you alright, miss? You look like you’re about to faint.”

“M-Mhm, yep, great, just peachy.” You squeaked through clenched teeth, sweatdrop on your forehead. “Could you um…confirm something for me?”

“Uh.? Er, sure. I’ll try my best.”

With tense shoulders and a tight smile, you asked, “Their…father…did his mouth have two scars in the corners?”

The teacher blinked, confused. Shouldn’t you already know that answer yourself?, she was probably thinking. And she would be right; you did know. But her simple, hesitant nod was the final nail in the coffin that was your delusion—Haruchiyo Sanzu had found you. And to make matters worse, he had the children.

Your smile faltered, twitching ever so slightly. Covering it with a forced chuckle, you cried, “Oh, that’s..wonderful! He’s always been self conscious about them, and I’m j-just.. beaming with joy that he’s embracing them more. Have a nice evening, Ms. Yuki.”

The teacher didn’t get a chance to respond as you quickly turned on your heel and began speed walking home. You’d apologize for your abrupt exit another day…right now there were more important matters to worry about. For instance—How on earth did Sanzu find you? How did he know about the twins and where they were? Oh, God…did he know about Satoru?

Dialing him up a few times only for the calls to go straight to voicemail weren’t reassuring in the slightest, having you rush across oncoming traffic just so you could avoid any further delays for your fraying nerves. You could see your apartment complex up ahead, heart thumping in your throat at the familiar, black SUV parked a couple blocks down. Had it not been for the heavily tinted windows and no license plates, you probably would’ve overlooked it. He knew where you lived. Stomach in knots, muscles stiff, nerves shot. You didn’t know whether to feel relieved or devastated. Your kids were safe at home, but at what cost? You stood in front of the building, rooted to the ground. Despite mentally preparing for this exact scenario for years, it all went down the drain the second you went to that daycare and discovered your children were missing.

It wasn’t until your phone vibrated did you snap out of your thoughts, shakily pulling the device out of your back pocket to check the notification.

from : unknown 1:06 pm     “ hi, mama.~ ”

Your stomach twisted. Attached to the message were two photos.

The first photo was of your kids eating McDonald's in the kitchen, happily cheesing and waving at the camera. You couldn't hold your choked gasp, hand coming up to hold your quivering lower lip—They were safe.

The second photo...was of Satoru. Tied to a chair, gagged, and beaten senseless. And standing behind him, holding him by his hair so that he could pose for the camera, grinning like a cheshire cat...

Another message pops up. Your grip tightened around your phone.

from : unknown 1:09 pm " daddy's home.~ "

© 2024-2025 anisespice ッ all rights reserved. likes, comments & reblogs much appreciated!

[venmondiese]

The needs of a prince are the work of a whore.

slight spoiler for season 2 episode 3 of house of the dragon

masterlist ✧works in procress ✧ A03

✧Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader ✧Rating: +18 mdni explicit ✧word count: 3.3k

-ˋˏsummary: after aegon's mockery at the brothel, he pushes Aemond into having another whore. Anything royalty asks for, it is the brothel's duty to provide. ✧Warnings: MDNI 18+, p in v sex, most of aemond's kinks lol, oral sex (m receiving), tiddy suckin, reader works in the brothel, tw: aegon in ep3, behaviour that reflects trauma. ✧ note: i had to write about this scene lol. i looooved to hint at aemond's response to trauma and how his mind works bc #psychology

“Brother!” The slurred voice came from behind him, and Aemond could practically smell his pestilence. He ignored his eldest brother, walking between the debauchery in the brothel. He never stayed longer to presence how whores were getting fucked and groped, as he didn’t enjoy staying longer than needed. 

The cold stone on his feet feel like a hold onto reality, as he tries not to stumble across drunkwards and their whores, as to where Aegon behind simply collides and curses them out, following Aemond.

“Your King commands you to stop walking” Aegon says loudly, a voice that he hears, but the rest of the brothel seems not to care. Aemond sighs, he breathes in, tired of Aegon. He doesn’t have any weapon, but he will strangle him to death in this very brothel, not caring if they are going to kill him the moment he touches Aegon. 

Aegon might humiliate him, but he is the most powerful attack and defence they have. Without Aemond, without Vhagar, they are nothing. They can stand a chance because of him. Because of Vhagar. Because he was brave enough to claim her, to the cost of his eye. 

He turns around, his face expressionless as he looks at his brother, naked as the day he was born. 

“Don’t be such a twat” Aegon says, his voice still dripping that mockness and cruelty Aemond was so used to.

It’s like Aegon tries to walk without staggering, but a young couple collides with him, almost making him fall.

“You imb-” The other drunkard insults him as he falls, and Aegon turns to see him. “My King-” the man stutters, as he tries to do the most pathetic curtsy Aemond has ever seen. And he has been used to seeing people bow to him all his life. “I didn’t mean to, forgive me” 

Aemond looks away, sighing as the man clings to Aegon’s feet, begging for forgiveness for cursing the King, and Aegon rolls his eyes, almost shaking his foot to get rid of him. Aemond rolls his eye as he starts walking away.

“Stop.” Aegon says as he sees Aemond walking away. “Brother, you will– It’s my duty, as king and elder, to finally initiate you, to make sure you are–” He rambles and Aemond sighs. If it's very hard taking his brother seriously before, now it is impossible with a man clinging to his feet and kissing his boots for forgiveness. “With… her”

Aemond turns his gaze to the young lass, standing dutifully behind the man clinging at Aegon’s feet, her hands clasped together as she looks at the ground, pretending not to exist. Doesn’t seem interested in getting in the mess that the royals have been in.

“Yeah, you” Aegon says, smirking as if he got a brilliant idea. “Quite new, aren’t ya?”

You hesitate, looking at Aemond and then Aegon, nodding. “Yes, my King” 

“Look” he says in a mocking tone, still slurred, as he steps closer to Aemond, finally having his feet free from the man. He places a hand on his shoulder, and gives him encouraging slaps. “A pretty young maiden for you.”

You look at the prince. If you were as young and a maiden as he presented you, you probably would not be here, he knows. 

“If it pleases my prince…” it’s your soft voice. 

Aemond clenches his jaw. You were pretty. The type of pretty that highborn ladies should be, and the eyes of a seductress. Not the type Aegon fancied, the ones who were lewd, and probably would crawl to Aegon and start grinding to get off. You see the type of woman that he fancies.

He is not used to it. Fuck a stranger. It’s… odd. He knew the madame, and she knew him. The comfort she gave him was different from fucking a whore amongst the rest. 

“Your King commands you to” Aegon says smugly, turning to see Aemond. “Time to get it wet”

Aemond has to breathe, considering murder. He closes his one eye, teeth gritting as he is so done with his brother. And to think that he has the power to tease him with no repercussions. 

“Find a room for his royal highness to use you” Aegon says to her, passing her a sack of golden coins, not having the decency of counting the money he was spending. You just grab it in your hand, as Aegon tries to push Aemond towards you, which he doesn’t grant him the right to. “Go on. Have fun, after all, one whore is as good as another”

As Aegon walks away, Aemond inhales sharply and looks at you. He already paid you, and he knows that with that amount, you’ll probably cling to his back and follow him until he dismisses your service.

You are shy to grab his hand, and guide him to one of the free rooms. The hour is late, so it’s busy. You have expected to get fucked in a corner, not in one of the fancy rooms with the prince. 

It’s relatively easy to get a room when Aemond is behind you, naked and with an unpleasant expression. Even if his face isn’t as familiar as the King’s, the sapphire is enough to recognise the Kinslayer. 

You accommodate the bed a bit, and you sit in the middle of it, looking at him with big eyes. He noticed you were good with your eyes, inspecting things about him, as if you were one of the ladies that sat in the dirty streets and offered to read palms. You just did it quietly, as you sat in the bed.

“What things do you fancy, my prince?” You ask softly. “I know many things”

He scoffs at the question, sitting on the edge of the bed. He knows you mean diverse acts of debauchery, from a lap dance to using your mouth for his pleasure. What would you know of things he liked?

“Shall I fetch you some wine?” You add softly.

“Fine” 

You move rather quietly, taking some wine and a cup for him. He is as good as inspecting as you; he watches your nervousness that you hide behind a calm facade. As you extend the cup to him, he makes his mind, standing up as he sips the wine, scanning at you, his only eye is as intense as it is intimidating. Yet you look back at him, sitting on your heels, in the middle of the bed. 

“Undress” 

As you unlace your dress, his eye lingers over you, watching your soft body be unveiled before his gaze, making him inhale again. You noticed that he did that quite often, as if to reorientate his thoughts. 

What he thinks is a mystery, because he is not expressive. He seems calculating, and you are not sure of what he actually wants. But you see his eye, lingering a moment on your body; your breasts. 

You might not know his thoughts, but you know the look of lust in a man’s eye. 

You crawl closer to the edge of the round mattress, looking at him as he has stayed standing there, inspecting you. It is clear that he doesn’t trust you, not as much as he did with madame Sylvi.

Perhaps it was the mockery of his brother, the cruelty that you witnessed, but you know that Aemond sees something in you that arouses him, and for you, that’s enough to keep going. It’s not like you don’t want him, he was not only a prince, but he was completely divine. His physique, and the way he was pure muscle, delighted you in the best ways possible. It was the body of a Targaryen prince, often said to be closer to god than men. 

“Allow me, my prince” you say, looking up to him. 

He looks down at you, and as he considers his options, you take the chance to look at his hardening manhood, sighing a bit, longing to feel the prince’s cock on your mouth. 

“Go on” he murmurs, his voice raspy as he looks down at you. 

You wish you knew better what he likes, but you’ll improvise a bit. You press a soft kiss on the lower part of his abdomen, slowly moving the kisses lower and lower, feeling his hard abdomen under your lips and moving to his crotch. You look up to him a last time, which he has not taken his eye out of your face. 

You take his hardening and growing cock on your hand, moving it slightly to the side to keep on pressing kisses on it. You feel the desire growing on your belly, and you accommodate your legs to lean forward a bit more, still moving your kisses down, fondling his balls in your hand as you keep on kissing him. More sloppy, wet kisses, kissing him almost tenderly, almost at the edge of pure lust. A primal need to keep on worshipping his cock this way. 

Lazy eyes turn up to see him once again, as he has his mouth open, panting as one of his hands moves to your hair, moving it out of your face as he licks his lower lip, before moving your face, just to slip his cock in your mouth softly. 

The mere fact that you are pleasing a prince, makes you shiver with pleasure. And not any prince, but Aemond. It was more like a privilege, in which you had no interest in wasting it. 

His cock invades your mouth, as he slowly moves your head for your throat to engulf him, but you are greedy; bobbing your head, looking up at him as he throws his head back, his silver hair spills over his shoulders as he savours the feeling. 

The way his hips rock rocks and push his cock past her lips, made her eyes roll back ever so slightly, as her tongue moved along the length. He pushes your face further into his groin, as he fucks her mouth with slow and deliberate strokes, his balls hitting her chin repeatedly, as he chases the arousing sensation of having his cock deep in your throat. 

“Brother!”

You don’t take your mouth off because you are not asked to. The King is rather drunk, and you see that prince Aemond is not in the mood for his antics.

“See?” Aegon asks in a mocking tone, as he steps in the room. “A good whore would get you-”

“We are busy here” Aemond says between gritted teeth. The humiliation tinted his cheeks pink, as his hand holding your hair hesitates on its grip. 

Aegon looks at you, and you gaze at him for a moment. An error, you realise as he speaks to you now.

“Do you enjoy him, girl? Or is he still a crybaby?”

You don’t miss the way Aemond’s fist clenches around your hair, and pulls you out from his cock. You look at him, as if asking for advice on what to answer. 

“Answer the King” Aemond murmurs, gritting teeth as he looks away.

“He’s the best I’ve ever had, my King”

“His royal highness has finally accomplished something on his own, I could probably enjoy you after he-”

“Though you might enjoy a-” Your voice interrupts him, and both men turn their gazes to you. “You might enjoy a new Lyseni girl here, your grace. Pure blood Valyrian”

Perhaps it’s the drunkenness of His Grace’s senses, but he doesn’t decide to have your tongue for interrupting him. Instead he claps, amused and happy. “Oh, finally some good advice around here” He says, patting Aemond’s back. “Good cunts around here”

Once he leaves, you turn to see Aemond. His jaw clenched, and biting his lower lip. You are a bit shy to keep kissing his body, as his hand leaves your hair. He seems to immerse himself in his thoughts.

You accommodate, looking up to him as you leave a shy kiss on his breastbone. 

“Do you wanna carry on, my prince?”

He blinks, slowly. You can see how the sapphire is brighter with the candle lights, and you hesitate if he wants to keep going. 

“Get on fours” he murmurs, not in the mood for more. You notice, a bit taken aback. But who are you to disobey? You are a whore, paid to do whatever your master wants. 

The position is rather familiar to you, as your knees touch the mattress and you slide your body forward to lean on your elbows, and you feel the weight of his body as he moves in the mattress, behind you.

You breathe in for a moment. King Aegon had partially killed the mood, but it didn’ stop your arousal for Aemond Targaryen. He was divine, and so was pleasuring him. You would follow him around, like a dog, always available when he needs you to pleasure him. And however he wants, you’d agree.

You feel his hands on your thighs, and his thumbs moving your folds as if trying to know your body by his hands. 

Sighing softly, your back is arching, relaxing more and more as you feel his heavy gaze on your body. You gasp a bit when you feel the tip of his cock passing through your wet folds, as if gaining the arousal back from it. You hear his groan, delighted as he pushes his hips quietly, passing his cock through your wetness like this. 

He doesn’t waste much time slipping his cock in, and your choked cries as he forces his way in, makes him know that perhaps you were not as experienced as other whores. He looks at you for a moment, cunt fluttering around his cock. 

“Oh gods…” you moan as you feel his hands on your hips, as his cock starts thrusting in and out of you.

Whimpers and moans fall from your mouth, as he fucks you. The genuine sound of your pleasure delights him further, fueling his desire for you as he fucks you deeply. The wetter you get, the rougher he gets. 

“Fucking- whore” he says through gritted teeth, and you feel your head blushing red with humiliation and arousal as he crudely say those words. 

“Y-Yes, my prince, u-use me…” your soft voice came as weak, breathlessly as your body bounces with each hard thrust he gives on you. 

It’s a delight to feel him like this, as you feel him slapping you ass. You bite your lower lip to stifle a moan, and grip on the bedsheets a bit more.

“Greedy whore” he murmurs, looking at you “You are drooling like a maiden would” 

Her body burns with shame at being called a greedy whore, but it only serves to make her want him even more.

Prince Aemond turns you on your back, as if something… feral woken up inside him. Animalistic and primal. You couldn’t know what, but it happened and the gods knew you were enjoying it. 

“Please… don’t stop” were weird words to come out of your mouth. To truthfully beg someone to keep going.

Aemond’s big hands came to slap your tits, and it stings, but more than hurting is making you feel only desire, heat and need. 

Seeing your body bounce as he fucked you, his cock slamming deeper eachtime, did something to him. You could see it, as he had his gaze firm on your breasts, from time to time taking a break to look at your face or your cunt, taking in his cock.

Another slaps on your tits, his hair falls down from his shoulders as his hips keep pounding into you. You see his chest, pure muscle as his abdomen tightens. And as you watched him, he watched you, before leaning in and moving his head to take one of your breasts on his mouth. 

Perhaps it is mere instinct as one of your hands comes to hold his head against your breast, a bad idea when it comes to a prince, but it only serves to fuel his arousal, and his cock is leaking more and more, as his greedy mouth keeps on sucking. 

Slight tears prick her eyes as his cock hits that delightful spot inside her, which many men often miss. But his cock hits it repeatedly, time after time, just to make your cunt clench around his more and more.

“I am going to cum, my prince” your voice comes as whiny, fine tears of arousal streaming on her cheeks, as you look at him, moaning around your breasts, before separating. 

He feels every detail of your orgasm, as the lewd sounds coming out from your mouth,vhow your body slightly trembles and your cunt clenching his cock, trying to pull him into an orgasm as well. He doesn’t miss the way you roll your eyes and bite your lower lip, and how your hips moved around his cock. 

Doesn’t take him much to cum either, as he feels his balls tighten up, as she pushes her hips slowly to meet his last lazy thrusts. He cums inside her, feeling her pussy milking him greedily. 

“Fuck” he groans, breathlessly, as one of his hand is next to your body as he leans, fucking the remains of his orgasm into you.

As the work is done, he pulls out and you take some minutes to gain your breath, looking up at the ceiling and trying to regain your thoughts after being blank from the pleasure.

But he doesn’t leave.

You move your head up, a bit curiously as you don’t feel the mattress lighten up due to the missing of his weight. He is still here, leaning back on the pillows as he pants a bit.

So he isn’t the type that disappears after fucking. 

You reincorporate, sitting up on the bed, in front of him as he has one eye closed. You suppose his missing eye, and the damage on it prevents him from closing his eye around the sapphire, and you find it a delightful detail of him. 

“You can stay as long as you want” you murmur. Perhaps he doesn’t want to go back to the castle, to the cruelty of the king. You are not one to know, but you saw how crude the King was. 

“Hm” his hum is the only sound he emits. 

“And… you can still request more things, if you desire so” you add, sitting by his side. “Anything, my prince” 

He knows of your lower status, because it is obvious. Calling him ‘my prince’ or Aegon ‘my King’ as the lowborns do. He looks at you, curiously.

“Very well then” he murmurs, laying back on the pillows, with you at his side. He is afraid of asking for comfort, of seeing Aegon walk in again and mock him more. 

He is different, you sense. In a way, he isn’t like the king, groping whores at his own delight, fucking them as if nothing, just to go on to the next one. 

Prince Aemond might fake it otherwise, but he is not like that. 

“Was it good?” It’s his voice. “I don’t have time for lies, girl. So don’t waste my time”

You turn your head to look at him. He seems tense still, his hands are on his knees as he is sitting, and you say the truth.

“It was the best I’ve ever had, my prince”

If it is a clear truth or a dirty lie, he doesn’t share his appreciation. He cuddles after some time next to you, and you open your arm to him. 

The needs of a prince are the work of a whore.

[evilgwrl]

TF 141 x Reader (Apocalypse!AU)

Immune: One

WARNING: This is a 18+ Poly!141 series (MDNI)

CW: Minor gore

ANYTHING IN ITALICS IS A FLASHBACK

Masterlist

It only started as a cold. Then it spread to a viral infection, consuming people faster than poison. It didn’t take long for the world to stop, for terror to appear, spreading like a wildfire, destroying cities as quickly as they appeared.

It was a vastly asked question growing up, “Do you think you would survive the apocalypse?” and to those who answered yes, where are you now? For you, surviving came easy. You remember it, the scene playing in your head like clockwork.

“Vienna, we have to go!” You spat, your voice scratching against your parched throat as you watched the dead-alive tear at the walls, staggering limbs chasing after the scent of beating veins.

“I can’t run any faster,” Vienna spat, sheer fire running through her exhausted body as she stumbled upon the concrete road. You trusted her. You were going to get through it together. You were all each other had now.

You didn’t stop, only grabbing her hand as your worn shoes skidded against the floor, the smell of rubber burning your nose. “We need to get over that fence!” You yelled, your eyes blurred from exhaustion as you tugged the girl next to you, your sweat dancing along your palms.

You stumbled, heavy feet clamping into the chain as you attempted to pull yourself up. The taste of metallic engorged your mouth as you bit harshly on your tongue, gripping onto Vienna’s hand in an effort to pull her up.

“You need to hurry!” Your voice yelped out, dragging the girl as if she was a rag-doll, your efforts rushed as you attempted to pull her up. It felt like a movie, the sound of gargling flesh, mangled between broken teeth and rotting skin acting as a soundtrack, yet it wasn’t fiction. This was real, this was reality.

Your leg was now hunched over, your body positioned between the fence as you focused on saving your friend. The clamminess between both of your hands, causing a friction as she continued to slip. “I-I can’t, Y/N, pull me harder,” Vienna exasperated, her voice high pitched as she watched behind her, rotten claws scratching the air.

Vienna’s feet dug into the chain as she wobbled, slick pools of blood flooding at her palms as she sliced the tender skin upon the metal. A grunt left her mouth as she clasped onto your hand, the dead swarming closer, desperate and starved.

Almost comically, Vienna whispered out an “I’m sorry” before tugging. You landed with a whack, your knees hitting the ground as you winced, your jeans skidding across the ground, fresh marks of friction, followed by the prickle of blood appeared quickly upon your palms and knees as your eyes darted to the girl infront of you, clambering up the fence.

Your breathing stilled, the sound of static filling your ears, muting everything around you as your limbs froze up. This was it, you thought, the stench of death approaching you as you attempted to stand, hands gripping out to reach for any weapon as the sound of struggle behind you deafened you.

You covered your ears, tucking your face into your knees as you sat up, flashes of everything you were running through your brain like a compilation. Instead, you were met with the trample of feet and bodies toppling over you. Your eyes adjusted, looking at the huddle of zombies walking near you, not paying you a care as they focused on the flesh of your once friend.

Your body stirred for a second, your flesh searing in the sun as you crawled up, your legs weak. You almost wish you had died then, the sound of Vienna’s scream even after her betrayal paralysing you. You didn’t stick around, your hand securing your satchel as you limped off, the sound of squelching and gnarling being the only thing you left behind.

You kept a calendar on a torn, leather notebook, marking each day carefully since the first. It had been 296 days. 296 days of being alone. 296 of being invisible. 296 days of nothing. You survived in an old farm house, tucked away in a rural forest in God know’s where. It was funny, you expected to see someone, anyone, but you never did.

Maybe it was easier that way, you were a given a chance with someone, and they left you to die. It was easy to make a simple life for yourself out here and you often wondered why the previous owner’s had left.

Your food was supplied by the garden, a plethora of fruits and vegetables adorned across the land as you tended to them. There were animals too. Cows, chickens, horses. You grew to care for them, speaking to them often as if they would reply. It was worth a shot, you thought, and it made you less lonely.

You survived by fending for yourself, learning how to shoot an arrow as you hunted the occasional deer in the forest, tenderising the meat on their gas stove. There was a small town nearby, practically untouched that you had raided, using the spare pickup truck that dusted away in the garage.

You had never seen anyone, but if you did, whoever lived here didn’t shy away from guns, the shotgun he left behind and the small pistols he littered around the house, along with your bow and arrow, were your forms of protection. Everything was simple. Everything was as perfect as it could be, you were fine.

It was a regular occurrence for you to ride now, your ass plush against the saddle as you trotted around the acreage. It was rare to see zombies along here, the silence speaking for itself, and if they did, they didn’t pay any attention to you walking over to them and chopping their head off with an axe. You found it comforting as you listened to the whistle of the horse’s nostrils, breathing out slowly.

As it grew dark, you locked the barn, securing it tightly before heading inside. You were thankful for fire as you chucked a log of wood you had chopped into the burner, lighting it with a match. You locked the door, front and back, as you shut the blinds, a simple routine you did to soothe yourself. Your feet, covered by fluffy socks you had found in a cupboard, padded against the floor as you headed up the creaky stairs.

Your body conformed to the blankets covering you, hushing you to sleep as your body gratefully accepted. The only thing that would wake you would be the sun, and the haunting memory of Vienna.

The teapot whistled, steam singing out of the nozzle as you carried it to the bath. Though it was a luxury to shower in hot water, it had rained these past couple of weeks, allowing for the rain tank to fill up and be put to good use.

Your body scorched against the porcelain tub as you stepped in, the muscles in your thighs kneading themselves into tight balls before the tension released. You used one of the several soap bars you had stored, scrubbing against your tender skin as you washed yourself. Your fingers trailed against the gash of a scar on your forearm, a reminder of the fence, a reminder of her.

You finished up, your body snug around a towel you had recently washed using an off-the-grid washing machine they kept stored in the basement. Thank God people lived like that before civilisation turned to shit, either that, or Amish. You weren’t complaining about either.

You changed into a pair of shorts, the weather slowly warming up as the winter passed, the celebration of spring approaching on your calendar. You fed yourself with an apple before approaching the barn, the key clicking against the door as you greeted the animals, feeding them with a mix of leftover animal food and vegetables. Sure, it wasn’t the best diet, but it fed them well enough to provide milk and eggs.

Your feet padded against the hay-covered floor, arms stroking the horse you were most fond of (that you called Nancy) before letting her out, straddling her waist with a saddle as you dragged her to the fenced paddock. You were quick to grab Cecil, the male of the pair. While he was now fond of you, your stomach had still not fully forgiven him for the brutal kick he gave you when you first met.

Once your legs grew, sore, staggering to continue directing the horse, you huddled inside, as you began to sew, using an old dress you found to create a shirt and a skirt. You hummed softly to yourself, the silence of the house speaking back to you, the distance sound of a chugging engine humming in as you stilled.

Like a statue, you froze before dropping expletives, your body slinking over to the window as you looked outside. Is that.. a truck? The soft hum of the engine grew closer as you rushed to grab your shotgun, before rushing outside, hands flailing around as you waited for the car to turn around.

“This is private property!” You yelled, your voice stern, “You need to leave.” Your face was vastly covered by the large gun you held, doing your best to intimidate whoever it was that drove on the land.

You heard the sound of doors opening, before four different doors closed. You lowered your gun, eyes squinting as you froze. You almost felt like your eyes were betraying you as you took in the group before you.

A man wearing a bucket hat, raised his arms slowly, slinking towards you as you stepped back. “Listen, we ain’t- we ain’t trying to scare you,” he spoke, his voice authoritative, “we didn’t think anyone would be out here.”

“Well, I am,” you snapped, lowering the gun slightly to look at him, “So fuck off, you and whoever is behind you isn’t welcome here.”

A man, the tallest of the group, stepped forward. He was intimidating, a black balaclava with a skull face situated on top covered his identity, his frame bricked with muscle as his chest puffed forward, “Listen-“ he began before the man with the hat cut him off.

“We ain’t here for issues, sweetheart, simply need a place to stay. We were in the military and we would greatly appreciate it.”

You furrowed your brows as you raised your gun again, “If you were in the military, why the fuck are you still here? Shouldn’t they have shipped you off somewhere safe?”

“We were on a mission, stuck in a safe house in the middle of nowhere. We assumed we had lost connection when no one could contact us. Took us a while to realise what had happened,” he spoke, arms over his chest, “I promise we ain’t here to hurt ya, at most we just want to eat and if you don’t want us here tomorrow, we’ll get out of your hair, a’right?”

You stilled, taking in their clothes, lined with badges and gear you would only seen on someone in the military. You lowered your gun before turning on your heel back to the house. You waited for a second, not moving, before you heard the sound of multiple feet against gravel before they walked into the house, soft sighs leaving their lips.

“Do you have supplies?” You quipped, tone harsh as you looked at them, placing the gun down yet keeping it in arms reach. Sure you had never shot one, but how hard could it be?

Another man nodded and you could finally take a look at him. Does he have a Mohawk? You couldn’t help but let out a dry laugh as you stared at him. “Got some bottled water in the boot, and some military meals we found at some shops along the way as well as some toiletries. It’s not a lot- but it’ll help,” he said, a thick Scottish accent causing you to scrunch your brows together in an attempt to understand him.

You nodded slowly, still not taking your eyes off of them before reaching into a cupboard and pulling out a labelled pot. The words stew stared back at you before you turned on the stove, letting it simmer. “The best I can feed you all with notice is left over deer stew. If you don’t want it, fend for yourself else where,” you snapped, rubbing between your eyebrows as you grabbed a spoon.

“That’s more than enough, thank you,” the hat man said, his arms resting on the table before he headed outside, to presumably grab the supplies in the boot.

“You been out here this whole time?” An unfamiliar voice spoke. You turned to him. He was handsome, with a boyish smile and soft features, his skin a complimenting shade of brown.

“Not the whole time, ended up here by mistake I suppose but I’m not complaining.”

“You survived this entire time by yourself?” The masked man gibed, looking you up and down as if you were useless. You shot him a nasty glare, your tone spiteful, “Yes, I have and now I have four dickwads at my door, begging to stay with me.”

The man silenced himself, eyes crinkling slightly as he turned around. “What’s your name?” The Scottish one asked, stepping closer to watch you heat the food as your body tensed.

“Y/N,” you said curtly.

“I’m Soap,” he announced, bouncing softly on his feet as he breathed in real food for a change.

“Hell kinda name is Soap?” You spat, staring at him.

“Military name, lass. Real names John,” he added, a small smile on his face before he turned to the others. “That’s Gaz, or Garrick,” he said, pointing to the handsome one, “and that’s Ghost, or-“

“Just Ghost,” the masked man grumbled. You rolled your eyes at his lack of manners, growing more frustrated by the second.

Soap strummed his fingers against the counter before clearing his throat. “The one outside is Price, names also John so it’s easier to just call us Price and Soap.”

The man you now knew as Price walked back in, hands clutching plastic containers filled with water bottles, items stacked on top as he placed them on the counter. “Thank you,” he said, gesturing towards the stew as you nodded.

“There are two spare bedrooms upstairs that you can rest in for the night, I’ll show you to them after we eat,” you say, grabbing a ladle and 5 China bowls.

As you sat down, you felt yourself relax slightly, trying to reassure yourself that if they wanted to hurt you, they would have done so already. Would others around the house be that bad? You shook your head, shaking the idea away.

They’re leaving first thing tomorrow.

[gogobootz1]

Dog Day Afternoon

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: New to town but oh-so sought after, a few stumbles might just lead you to love

Word Count: 3k

Dearest Gentle Reader,

Today, I write with news from the North. The reclusive Duke of Devonshire has come to London. It seems that after the death of his younger brother some time back, he is determined to find his eldest daughter, the new heir, a husband. The lady is supposedly very beautiful and will no doubt consume all of the attention of eligible young bachelors. I only bid good luck to her competition, as they will surely need it.

The fluffy tails of your two best friends could not keep still. The black Newfoundlands you had trained from puppyhood loved carriage rides, mostly because they loved meeting the horses before and after. You were sure they'd grow even more excited when you arrived at the park.

As the carriage slowed, you smiled, eager to get them some exercise. Your maid stepped out first, and you momentarily handed her both dogs' leads. Accepting a hand down from a footman, you turned to take them back when they broke free of her grasp entirely. Worse yet, they took off at a run.

You called after them, then whistled, but they were determined. Usually, they didn't give you any trouble with recall. Reaching for the dog whistle you kept on your person, you found nothing.

Without a second thought, you took off after them.

"My Lady!" Your maid called from behind you, panicked. You paid her little heed, anxious to have your babies back safe.

Park patrons stood as your dogs, followed by yourself, ran past. They gawked openly at the strange scene put on by an unknown young lady.

You were relieved when they slowed, but it didn't take long for them to sprint off again. They rounded a corner, quick as lighting. You kept after them, unable to see the obstacle around the bend.

Crashing right into someone's back, the two of you stumbled. The poor gentleman in front of you took the brunt of the impact, but you didn't have time to stay and make a formal apology. Staggering a bit, you resumed your chase.

"Sorry!" You yelled over your shoulder.

"Wait! Miss," the man called after you but gave up as you ran further away.

When your dogs ran off the path and into a clearing where people were picnicking, you grew really worried. Chasing after them on a trail was one thing, but ruining the outings of fellow nobility would be an altogether worse embarrassment.

You stopped in your tracks when you realized who the boys were scampering up to: your little sister. Abigail sat on a blanket with a girl who looked to be about her age. In her mouth was the dog whistle. You tended only to use that whistle when you took them out in the woods, and you'd trained them to run back to you at the sound of it. It gave you peace of mind knowing that you could call them back at any time if they went too far off in the forest or on one of your walks.

Abigail seemed pleased to see the two of them. A surprised grin graced her face as she patted them. They were even happier to see her, showering her in kisses. "Hoo-y? Moo? What are you doing here?" She giggled.

Her laughter stopped when she saw you stalking over. Thoroughly out of breath, you crossed your arms when you reached them. The three of them looked guiltily up at you. With a snap, your dogs came to sit on either side of you. Although your countenance was thoroughly enraged, scratching behind both dogs' ears decreased your intimidation factor.

"Why on Earth did you steal that?" You nodded toward your whistle.

"I think it makes for a chic necklace," Abigail said defensively. You stuck a hand out, and she reluctantly placed the whistle she'd put on a chain in it.

"And why on Earth were you using it?" You asked expectantly.

She held her hands up in surrender, "Miss Hyacinth was skeptical that the whistle could not be heard with human ears. I was simply showing her how it worked." Abigail was clever- you'd give her that. You could hardly scold her in front of her companion, and you wouldn't dream of scolding the other young girl for something so clearly not her fault. Using her as a human shield was a cowardly tactic by your sister, however. "And I thought you weren't arriving until later!"

"They were antsy. I figured I could abandon the harp in favor of allowing them some exercise," you explained, then glared at her, "This was not the type of exercise I had in mind."

"But Hoo-y and Moo love running free," she pouted at you.

"They are not allowed to run free in public spaces where I must chase after them!" You snapped at her. Crouching to get closer, you reached into your purse and gave both dogs a scrap of jerky. "Huginn and Muninn are both well-behaved gentlemen, and you may have tarnished their good names by causing this wild romp!"

"Huginn and Muninn? Does that make you Odin?" A deep voice called from behind you. You rose and turned to see a tall, handsome gentleman with dark hair.

His question took you by surprise. Most people did not understand their names. You blinked for a second before collecting yourself, "No." It was hardly a smart reply, but it was the most you could manage after chasing your dogs a few hundred meters. You shook your head a little, vaguely embarrassed by your answer, before turning back to the girls.

"Would you please excuse Lady Abigail, Miss Hyacinth?" The bright young lady nodded at you with a pleasant smile before you even finished speaking, "The least she can do after causing such trouble is help me walk the dogs." You directed the last part toward your sister, who reluctantly stood. Taking one of the leads from your hand, she bid goodbye to her companion before walking off. You nodded at the young lady and the handsome stranger before following after her.

Benedict watched you walk away from his sister's picnic spot, only slightly removed from the rest of the family's. He collapsed down next to Hyacinth and stole a grape from her plate, "Who was that?"

"My new friend, Abigail," she replied, smacking his wrist. He ate the grape anyway.

"And the older one?"

"Her sister," Hyacinth looked at him skeptically, "why do you ask?"

Benedict thought of how you'd practically pushed him to the ground in the middle of the walkway, then ran from the scene. "No reason," he shrugged.

——————————————

The first ball you'd be attending was later that evening, and you were incredibly nervous. Sat on the floor of the library, you brushed through Muninn's coat in an attempt to calm your nerves. Waiting for your father to finish changing was making you even more anxious, the dread just building up in your body.

"Why are you on the floor?" His voice finally came from the doorway.

"His coat needed brushing," you shrugged innocently. The Duke waved at you to come join him, and you stood, brushing some fur off yourself. Muninn stood, too, and closely followed as you joined your father.

"You're only lucky he didn't slobber on you," your father shook his head at you fondly, offering his arm.

Taking it, you made one last bid to skip the event, "Remind me why we are attending this?"

"A future Duchess needs a husband," he said simply.

"Does she really?" You asked wryly.

"No," your father answered seriously, causing you to stop. "Well, only if she should like a Duke or Duchess of her blood to follow in her footsteps," he tugged on your arm to keep you walking.

That only made you feel worse. While before you felt nervous, guilt was now in the mix. What if that didn't happen?

"If you never marry, I will not love you any less," he revealed. "I only ask that you try," your father asserted, "but if there is nary a man up to snuff, I would have you die a spinster." You laughed at that, feeling some pressure relieved. He joked with you for the duration of the carriage ride and up until you were announced at the ball.

"Now presenting; His Grace Daniel, Duke of Devonshire, and his daughter Lady-"

The entire company of the room turned to watch the two of you descend the stairs.

"What? Is there something on my face?" Your father whispered to you jokingly.

"Oh, only that awful mustache," you whispered back playfully. You caught the corner of his lip twitching as he tried not to laugh at the jab at his expense.

A few more seconds of staring had you whispering to him again, "I see now why you never leave the house." That earned a huff of a laugh from him.

"Let us thank our host, then visit the refreshments," he relayed the plan.

"Excellent idea," you replied quietly as he dragged you toward a finely dressed older woman.

"Lady Danbury," your father nodded at her in greeting.

"Lovely to see you again, Your Grace. It's been quite some time," she smiled at him knowingly.

"Indeed it has," he laughed, "may I present my daughter?" You smiled then, giving her a polite nod as well.

"My, how you've grown, my lady. The last time I saw you, you were far shorter than me," she chuckled, and you laughed politely with her. Unfortunately, you had no memory of that meeting. It must have been a long time ago, and she must have visited your home at Chatsworth House.

It was only a few more moments of small talk before your father excused the two of you, under the guise of not impeding her from talking to other guests.

He fixed you both a glass of lemonade at the refreshments table before he was pulled away. As much as he hated socializing, people loved him. He sent you an apologetic glance as he left. You only shook your head at him, smiling.

You took a brief glance around the room, noticing a few debutantes conversing near you. You sent them a smile, but they sneered in reply and closed ranks. Stunned at their response, you didn't quite know what to do.

"They can be rather mean," you turned to find a young red-headed woman beside you. "Not to mention jealous," she said helpfully.

"Jealous?" You were confused. They hadn't even met you. "Of me?"

"Oh, yes," she laughed a bit. "Haven't you read Lady Whistledown?"

You were embarrassed to have no idea of what she spoke, "I haven't met her. Is she in attendance?" That got an even greater laugh from your companion.

"Lady Whistledown is a gossip columnist and a rather popular one at that," she informed you, and you felt foolish for your last comment. "She wrote about you in her latest issue."

"Really?" You were stunned, as you'd only recently arrived in London.

"She predicted you'd steal the attentions of every available gentleman away from your fellow debutants," she nodded.

"No wonder they hate me," you sighed, sorry to have made a bad impression on the debutants before making their acquaintance. "Oh, I'm sorry, I still haven't introduced myself!" You were eager to make at least one good first impression.

"I'm Penelope Featherington," she said with a smile.

"I must admit, Miss Featherington," you shook your head, "I think Lady Whistledown's prediction will prove incorrect." She tilted her head and gestured for you to go on, "I've not been approached by a single gentleman."

Penelope took a quick look around the room, accidentally meeting a few pairs of eyes. Plenty of people had already been looking in your direction. She smiled a bit at your obliviousness, "I think perhaps they're just intimidated."

"Oh no," your eyes widened, "have I done something wrong?"

"Not at all," she assured you, "I think it's just... no one wants to take the first shot at a great stag and miss."

"I'm not sure I like being prey in this metaphor," you deadpanned, causing her to laugh once again.

It seemed one young gentleman mustered the courage to be the first to approach, and he really was young. "Good evening, ladies," he greeted you both, then offered you his hand, "would you care to dance?"

You placed your hand lightly in his but sent Penelope a look as he led you off. She giggled as you went. From there, you were off to the races. Dance after dance, gentleman after gentleman, you were exhausted.

"Please excuse me, sir, I'm feeling rather parched," you did not even recall this one's name.

"Oh no, please, my lady, I shall fetch a beverage for you," he nodded, "stay right there! Don't move!" He kept eye contact with you as he walked backward a few paces. You couldn't help but walk backward away from him, and you continued to do so even after he'd scurried off.

In fact, you retreated so far back that you retreated right into someone else's back. You both turned.

“You rather love bumping into me,” the gentleman you’d seen earlier said.

“Excuse me?” You certainly hadn’t seen him before this morning, so you had no idea what he meant by that smart comment. Your offense at his statement outweighed the sway of his good looks, unlike earlier.

“This makes twice,” he insisted, “once chasing after your ravens and once just now.”

It took you a second to catch up, “It was you I knocked over in the park earlier?!” Embarrassment rolled over you like a wave. “Oh God,” this was awful, “I am so incredibly sorry. Truly, I am mortified. And I would have apologized earlier, I-“

He only laughed a bit, “It’s quite alright. I got the sense you were in a rush.” His teasing tone brought a smile to your face.

“They’re usually so well-behaved,” you assured him, “I’m afraid my sister was behind the debacle.”

“Oh, yes, she was sitting with Hyacinth, was she not?”

“You know Miss Hyacinth?”

The gentleman grinned and bowed, “Benedict Bridgerton, her brother.”

“Very nice to meet you,” you smiled, “officially.”

“I’m not sure I caught your name,” right as he asked, you heard it being called.

“My lady?” You whipped around, and spotted the gentleman you’d abandoned searching for you. Wincing, you scuttled toward the closest pillar and ducked behind it. Benedict stayed put, but watched you run off with great amusement. After a moment, he chose to follow you.

“Are you hiding?” He teasingly asked.

You peered around the pillar, hoping the man had walked away. When you saw he hadn’t, you ducked away again, “yes!”

Benedict blinked at you, smiling, “Why?”

“My feet hurt,” you confessed, “I have danced every dance. I haven’t sat down in hours. Frankly, I’m surprised so many are interested after my jaunt through the park.”

“Perhaps they were impressed by your display of athleticism,” a crooked grin crossed his face. You leveled him with a look.

“There you are, my lady,” you jolted at the foreign voice, and Benedict had to clap a hand over his mouth to muffle his laughter. “I could not find you, so I’m afraid I drank your lemonade as well,” you could see Benedict’s shoulders shake with laughter, “Are you ready for our next dance?”

A look of pure horror must have crossed your face, because Benedict finally intervened, “I’m afraid she’s promised the next dance to me.” He pulled a pencil from a pocket in his jacket and outstretched one hand to you. You held out the arm your dance card was attached to, “In fact, I’ve very generously been granted all her remaining dances.” He winked at you as he filled in the four remaining spots. You fought off a grin.

“I see,” the man you interrupted you said sourly. He turned on his heel and marched away. Neither you nor Benedict could stop your laughter at his reaction.

“It is not my intention to further burden your feet,” he assured you after a moment, “I only hoped to dissuade him.”

“You did a fine job,” you grinned at him, “you have my gratitude.”

“I think I rather scandalized him,” Benedict chuckled, and you shook your head.

“It seems rather easy to scandalize this lot,” you said.

“Well, you’re right about that,” he nodded.

You sighed, “I think they’re all so concerned with presenting themselves as proper and important they forget to consider anyone else. Not one man I danced with asked me about myself.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Benedict shook his head, “I hope the rest of your evening is more relaxing.”

“Thank you,” you nodded at him, “at the very least, I know my dogs will listen to me when I return to them.”

Benedict laughed at that and slightly bowed towards you again, “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, my lady. I hope to bump into you again soon.”

Your eyes widened, “Maybe not bump.”

“Goodnight,” he smiled at you and nodded before leaving you free to go find somewhere to sit.

Soon enough, you father found you relaxing on a chaise lounge in a nearby study. He only shook his head, and offered you his arm to depart.

——————————————

The next morning brought with it house calls. You’d been hoping to spend a quiet morning working on a new piece for the harp, as you’d forgone practice the day before. But, much to your chagrin, you were forced to dress and be presentable within only ten minutes of your waking.

It didn’t take long for the sitting room to be bombarded with interested parties, though none were interested enough to truly speak with you. Each brought with him a new bouquet of flowers, and you soon grew worried you’d start sneezing uncontrollably. Eventually, you became so overwhelmed that you bribed poor Abigail to keep them occupied while you disappeared.

The only question she had for you was if you cared what she did to them. You’d given her free rein. With one look at her wicked grin, you fled the room.

Quickly turning the corner to another hallway, you quite nearly crashed into someone.

“That was almost three,” Benedict joked with you.

“Almost,” you highlighted, “but only a close call.”

“True,” he nodded.

"What brings you here?"

Benedict smiled, "I had hoped to call on you. Have I caught you at a bad time?"

"Not at all," you shook your head jovially.

"Excellent! I brought a gift," he produced a brown paper bag. You were slightly confused but glad for something other than flowers.

"Thank you," you reached for it, but he pulled it back.

"Not for you," he shook his head. You blinked back at him, wide-eyed. "Unless you have a proclivity for raw steak." Benedict laughed at the shock on your face, "I thought Huginn and Muninn might enjoy a treat."

A surprised smile eased onto your face. Your eyes sparkled as you looked at him, "I'm sure they'll appreciate it."

"Do you think they might also appreciate a walk in the park?" He asked, "A chance at redemption?"

"I think they'd like that," you grinned widely as Benedict smiled and offered you his arm.

---------------------------------------------------------

He didn't ask a single question! And he was wearing these- FUGLY jeans

Lol I've been toying with this idea since S3 part 1 came out, hope you liked it! I let her live in 2005 Mr. Darcy's luxurious mansion so you're welcome

(sorry for obscure norse mythology references)

[defire]

Manhandling--especially done in silence.

Content: manhandling, humiliation, beating

Slammed into the top of a desk with their arm twisted behind them

Whumpee wincing and freezing under whumper's weight as they realize they're trapped; if they move any more their wrist is going to break

whumpee crushing their lips in their teeth to hold back cries of pain that they'd be punished for

Guards shoving in a manacled, stumbling whumpee before the king, kicking him to his knees and forcing him to bow so low his forehead hits the flagstones

Fist in the hair to yank whumpees head up

Or fingernails bruising into the cheeks for the same goal

Whumpee frustrated to rage that they aren't being allowed to just walk straight, instead they have to throw them into walls and slam them down into seats

Looking up with a livid glare at main whumper when they get there

Whumpee starting to speak, "wait, just--" gets yanked so hard the words catch before he staggers forward

"I can walk." Whumpee growls next time they come for him. Snarky guard--"well, you're to be dragged."

When the whumpers step away from whumpee, now tied up and gagged on the floor, panting through his nose

Humiliating punishments like whipping while whumpee is tied up like this, whumpee floundering awkwardly away with a muffled shriek at every strike

Holding whumpee's arms so whumper can punch them over and over in the stomach

A lineup of prisoners, but whumpee is the only one that gets thrown and kicked into position

[heytheredelulu]

Anon request: “could you do something enemies/rivals where bucky accidentally finds out that you have a mirror kink during a training session?”

Yes, absofuckinglutely yes.

Watch Me

Rival!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count 2.4k

ALL OF MY WORK IS 18+

C/W: Language, fingering, size kink, mirror kink, choking, degradation (Bucky calls reader a slut once), hate sex (p-in-v unprotected), one lil spank, no aftercare and Bucky’s kind of an asshole.

“You’re distracted!” Bucky grunts, landing another painful blow to your gut, causing you to stumble backwards as he effectively knocks the wind out of you again.

“Just shut up, Barnes!” You snap back, resting your hands on your knees as you hunch over and work to catch your breath.

He wasn’t wrong, you were completely distracted. You couldn’t tear your gaze away from the wall of mirrors behind him and it only made it that much easier for him to land hit after fucking hit.

You may absolutely loathed the man but it didn’t change the fact that the way his muscles flexed in his back and biceps in the reflection of the mirror behind him as he pummeled you with his fists sent your mind reeling with thoughts of how those toned muscles would feel under your hands, your lips, your tongue.

Why couldn’t this man wear a goddamned shir-

He strikes you hard in the chest despite you being bent over and at rest and you stagger back in shock, the force of it having you struggling to maintain your balance and remain upright. Your temporary disorientation allows him the opportunity to wrap his right arm around your neck and pull you into a sleeper hold.

“Wanna tell me why you keep lookin’ in that mirror?” He breathes against your ear, his tone assuring you that there’s a smirk creeping across his stupid fucking face.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You pant through gritted teeth, jerking your shoulders against his arm, working to free yourself from his chokehold.

He shakes his head, a sardonic laugh rumbling up from his chest as his forearm tightens across your windpipe. “Tap out.” He orders. “You can’t fucking handle me, princess. You don’t belong in the field. You’re weak. It’s pathetic.” His voice is low and cruel as you continue to struggle. “You’re gonna get yourself killed, or worse- get one of us killed.”

Rage simmers in your belly at his comment but the shame you feel from the truth of it is evident in the crimson blush creeping across your face.

He was right again.

You were weak.

That’s exactly why Tony had scheduled you to spar with him. Had you not been explicitly instructed to have training sessions by Tony Stark himself, you wouldn’t be caught dead alone in a room Bucky fucking Barnes and his smug ass attitude. It was no secret that this man was the bane of your existence, taking every opportunity to pick a fight and belittle you in front of everyone regardless of the time, place or context.

Unfortunately when it came to hand to hand combat, he was the most skilled out of anyone else on the team. so it made sense to pair you with him for training despite how much you had protested the idea. As you spent the last hour getting taunted and insulted while simultaneously having your ass handed to you, you couldn’t help but feel like Tony was just putting you in a room with him for his own amusement.

The anger overtakes the shame and you grit your teeth, bringing your head forward before slamming it back into his face with all the strength you could muster, pain erupting across the crown of your head. Bucky releases you, stunned and furious, bringing his fingertips up to swipe away the trickle of blood that trailed from his nostril. He lifts his gaze to meet yours, his cerulean eyes narrowing.

“A fucking headbutt? Are you kidding me?” He shouts, advancing on you. “You’re supposed to grab onto your opponent’s arm, bend your knees, sidestep and roll me off your back! Have you paid attention to anything I’ve told you?” He asks, leaning over you with a menacing glare. “You could’ve given yourself a goddamn concussion, you idiot!”

You scoff, stepping up on your tiptoes in an attempt to to make yourself appear taller, more confident but you nearly shrink right back down when the scent of his cologne mingled with the musk of his sweat hits your nostrils.

Goddamnit, he smells like cedarwood and sin.

“I was paying attention! Do you really expect me to be able to roll your big ass over my back? That’s impossible!” You argue.

“Bullshit. You’re distracted. You’ve been distracted this entire time.” He growls, prodding a finger into your chest.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” You threaten, moving to swat his hand away but he’s quicker and snatches your wrist.

“Don’t touch you?”

Bucky leans down further and you stiffen at his sudden closeness.

“I think you like when I touch you.” He taunts, tightening his metal hand around your wrist and spinning you away from him to face the line of mirrors across the wall.

“Fuck you, Barnes.”

“You want to, don’t you?” He asks in a low voice as he leans in behind you, trailing his flesh hand up your abdomen and closing it around your throat. You don’t reply, unable to form a coherent thought when his body dwarfs yours, towering over you from behind. He closes in, pressing his bare, sweat slicked chest against your upper back, drawing a sharp breath from your lungs when the length of his hard cock in his gym shorts settles against the curve of your ass.

“I think you forget.” He whispers, the light stubble across his jaw brushing against the shell of your ear as he speaks.

“Super soldier. I’m enhanced. My senses are enhanced.”

His hand tightens around your throat, your pulse fluttering against his palm.

“I can hear your heartbeat, princess.” He taunts, his breathy chuckle fanning against your skin before he nips at your earlobe and goosebumps prickle across your skin.

“I can smell how badly your cunt is aching for me.”

Your eyes widen in response to his brazen statement and you make a move to step out of his hold but he splays his large hand across your stomach and tuts at you.

“Don’t try to deny it.” He whispers, his metal hand slowly working its way down your body. “You know, it’s funny. You say you hate me, but your body’s betraying you.” His cool fingers tease at the waistband of your leggings and your breath hitches, your eyes slipping shut.

“I bet if I were to just-“

Your hand catches his wrist before his fingers can trek any further and you shake your head. “No.” You mumble, opening your eyes and connecting your gaze with his in the mirror.

“Why?” He asks, brushing his lips against your neck. You tilt your chin up, granting him further access and he chuckles against your skin when you avoid answering his question.

“Because you don’t want to? Or because you hate me so much you don’t want me to be right?” He asks quietly.

You open your mouth to reply but the only sound that slips out is a moan when he proceeds to dip his fingers beneath your waist band, ghosting a finger across your slick folds.

“That’s what I thought.” He whispers, gathering your arousal on your fingers and tracing them along your clit in slow, deliberate circles.

“Jesus, Princess. You’re so fucking wet.”

You groan, trying desperately to remind yourself just how much you loathe this man but every brush of his fingers against your clit pulls you further and further away from logic.

Fuck it.

You arch your back against him and hook your thumbs in your waistband, tugging your leggings and panties down and kicking them aside in a hurry. Your eyes are completely fixed on the mirror, staring at his hand cupping your cunt and you place your hand atop his, guiding his metal fingers towards your entrance.

“Oh, is that right?” He teases, his finger poised at your weeping hole but denying you of what you so desperately want.

“I had a hunch when you couldn’t take your eyes off my reflection earlier but now I know for sure.”

You grit your teeth in frustration, exhaling sharply through your nose. “I hate you.” You whisper harshly, grinding your backside against his erection.

“I know.”

He sinks a single metal finger into your wet heat and you gasp at the sensation, keeping your eyes locked on your reflection as he pumps into you, his breath growing heavy against your neck as he adds a second finger, letting out a low groan when he’s met with resistance.

“You’re so fucking tight.” He murmurs, grazing his teeth along the tender flesh of your neck.

“I'm gonna have to open you up, princess.”

You whimper, your head falling back to rest against his shoulder as he scissors his fingers inside your cunt, massaging your inner walls and working to add a third finger. A cry escapes your throat at the intrusion, your hand flying up and carding in his hair to steady yourself.

“I’m gonna bury my cock in this tight little cunt.” He purrs, rocking his fingers into you, his palm grinding against your clit and your impending orgasm causing your pussy to flutter around his fingers. He grips your jaw and roughly tilts your head back down to look in the mirror. “You're gonna watch me when I make you come.” He growls, fucking his fingers into you at a steady pace, your arousal creating an obscene squelch with every pump of his hand.

Your eyes trail up the reflection of your body as it writhes in pleasure under his touch and your eyes connect with his. Your mouth falls open, a broken cry falling from your lips as your walls clench around his fingers and you break under the gaze of his blue, lust-blown eyes. He hums, his grip on your jaw loosening and he turns your head, capturing your mouth in a deep and passionate kiss as he withdraws his fingers from inside you. “Take my cock out.” He murmurs against your lips, his low voice carrying demand while grasping your wrist and guiding your hand to palm the aching erection tented in his gym shorts.

You don’t hesitate to follow his instruction, reaching under his waistband and curling your hand around him, letting out whine when you realize you can’t close your hand completely around his girth.

“I told you.” He whispers, peppering kisses across your jaw. “I needed to open you up for me.”

You release a shuddered breath and he pushes down on the small of your back to urge you to lean forward, his metal fingers tracing along your shoulder and down your arm to settle atop your hand. He brings it to the mirror, interlocking your fingers with his and pressing it against the glass.

“I’m not gonna be gentle. You know that, right?” He asks in a low voice, dragging the head of his cock along your slick folds. You catch your bottom lip between your teeth and choke back a moan as he releases your hand and widens his stance.

You watch as his eyes drop to your ass, his large palm resting flat against it to hold you steady while he grasps the base of his cock and presses himself against your entrance. You raise your other hand to the mirror, leaning forward with a bowed head and brace yourself against it as the sweet sting of him stretching you steals the air from your lungs.

“I don’t want you to be.” You breathe out, lifting your head weakly and connecting your gaze with his as he settles his hands on your waist.

No sooner than the words leave your mouth, he’s drawing his hips back, withdrawing almost completely before he slams back into you with bruising force. You let out a strangled cry, your eyes rolling back as he thrusts into you at a merciless pace.

A harsh slap to your ass directs your attention back up to his reflection where his hungry eyes are still fixated on you.

“I thought I told you to watch me when I make you come.” He grunts, pulling a sharp breath from you as he snaps his hips forward and kisses your cervix with the tip of his weeping cock. He slides his hand down across your pubic bone and slips it down between your folds to tease your throbbing clit. His fingers work quick, tight circles across your sensitive bud, igniting a fire low in your belly and spreading heat under your skin.

“You like that, huh?” He taunts, his voice low and husky as he fucks into you with unrelenting tempo. “You like to watch yourself when you’re getting fucked, don’t you? Kinky little slut.”

“Bucky, I-”

You lose your words in a choked sob, arching your back as your cunt spasms and contracts around his cock, your knees threatening to buckle under the wave of euphoria crashing over your body.

“That’s right Princess, come all over my cock.” He moans, his hips stuttering as he trails his fingers away from your swollen clit.

He digs his fingers into the soft flesh of your waist, chasing his orgasm in deep, brutal thrusts, his heavy sack slick with your release, slapping against your skin with every jerk of his hips.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come.” He grunts, his rhythm growing sloppy and erratic as his muscles tense.

He pulls out abruptly and you lock eyes in the mirror one last time, his brows knitting and his lips parting as he curses your name, frantically fucking his fist and painting your ass with thick ropes of cum.

You press your forehead against the cool glass before you as you work to catch your breath and it’s silent for several long, uncomfortable minutes before you hear the faint rustle of him tugging up his shorts.

You straighten up and turn around to see him moving towards you with his gym bag slung over his shoulder and his t-shirt in his hand.

“Good session.” He says flatly, tossing his t-shirt at you and you catch it, your brows furrowing in confusion. The corners of his mouth twitch up into a smug smirk and he gestures towards your sticky ass.

“I hate you.” You mutter, shame rising up your cheeks in a deep blush as you wipe yourself angrily with his t-shirt.

“I know.” He replies, not bothering to hide the amusement in his voice while he turns to leave.

“Same time tomorrow!” He shouts over his shoulder, leaving you alone, ashamed and naked in the gym.

Goddamnit, you fucking hate him.

Taglist (Taglist is open):

@littleone2001 @suz7days @truthfulliarr @lilacka @writtingrose @samsgoddess @loveisallyouneed1125 @vicmc624 @millercontracting @wildernessflora @mydorkyboys @blackhawkfanatic @honestlywork @ladyvenera @cavity-exe @ihavetwoholesforareason @km-ffluv @22rhianna2006 @fanfictionreaderfan @misshale21 @wintrsoldrluvr

A/N: Thank you anon for this request, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

💋Sj

[neopuppy]

Gooner (M)

pairing. Jisung x female reader ft Jeno

genre. fubu AU(alternatively ‘I was half a virgin when I met you!’ AU), Jisung as Jeno’s younger brother/Jeno’s not the best sibling, M/F, filth.. yay👹

warnings. profanity, eavesdropping, incel vibes, y/n’s a bit mean, smut warnings under cut. minors DNI.

wc. 6.5k+

now playing. treat me like a slut//Kim Petras

smut warnings. masturbation, Jisung’s addicted to porn, switching, oral, hair pulling, choking, overstimulation, rough sex, unprotected sex

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

Sweet high-pitched moans resonate through the walls, loud enough to cancel out the ones emitting from overpriced computer speakers.

So loud. So God damn loud.

Jisung sighs, he’d heard your flirty giggles about an hour ago before his brother dragged you through the hallway and into his bedroom across from his. You’ve been here 3? 4 times? This week alone already. He tries to tune out the cracked whine in your tone, raise the volume on the video he’s been watching for five minutes, not really paying attention to what’s happening. How can he when you scream like your lifes being ripped from your body, crying out louder than a woman being chased to her death. 

He blinks to focus his gaze on the computer screen, reaching for the energy drink sat on his desk to sip at. This used to be more enjoyable, time to relax and unwind after school or work. That was before Jeno started hooking up with you. You’re just around all the damn time, always sprawled out on the couch, coming out of their shared bathroom with wet hair and one of his brothers oversized t-shirts. He doesn’t make an effort to talk to you at all, never has tried to get to know any of the random girls that come in and out of his brother's revolving bedroom door. 

Not that you make that easy, always greeting him when you run into each other, smiling and waving, even pinching his cheek when you stumbled out of his brother's room inebriated. You called him cute, a baby, a cute giant baby. It makes his skin crawl to think about it, softly petting his cheek with the back of his hand where you had tugged on his cheek roughly. He spent the rest of the day locked up in his room scouring the internet for videos showcasing girls that looked somewhat like you, your hair or lips, any minuscule feature close enough to yours to stroke himself to.

‘Look at you Sungie, you’re growing up right before my eyes.’ You said drunkenly, staggering back and forth on your feet as you trapped him in the hallway on his way to the bathroom. He didn’t know what to do or say, flinching away from your touch too slowly, he had to stand there gulping thick wads of saliva while you tugged on his cheek and reached up to smack the other side of his face. ‘What a cute giant baby.’

The fantasies brewing in his mind for the last few weeks spilled over as you tiptoed closer and blinked up at him blearily, a flirty smile pulling at your lips. 

He wanted to grip your wrists until they hurt, leave his fingerprints permanently etched on your daint limbs. One of his favorite videos came to mind, wishing to throw you down on all fours and shove the oversized band shirt up to unveil your bare ass, knowing damn well you walk around without bothering to cover yourself up after Jeno fucks your brain dry. He’s so lucky, always manages to pull girls like you, shameless easy sluts desperate to cry on his cock. 

That could be him if he had the balls to even look you in the eye and act out the various ways he imagines plowing through you. He was ready to say something, barely parting his lips open until Jeno blew his chances and dragged you back to his bedroom.

‘Your little brother’s so cute.’ You teased, poking at the olders chest. He scoffed and glared at you, slowly dragging his gaze over to Jisung standing frozen in the hallway before slamming his door shut.

‘Probably made his week talking to you, loser never leaves his room.’ 

Jeno’s such an asshole. He’s not wrong, but he doesn’t have to tell you shit about his younger brother’s life. He does leave his room, he has to eat, meet up with his friends every once in a while.

That’s not the worst part, the worst part is that you seem curious about him. Always subtly mentioning him when he’s in the living room or kitchen. His brother scoffs and mutters under his breath usually, snapping at you to quit asking about that virgin.

He’s not a fucking virgin.. technically. 

It doesn’t matter anyway, you’d probably never give him a chance. Not that he wants a chance, he’s just horny, just needs to actually leave his room and interact with real women like Jeno always says. 

But why would he do that when a few clicks can numb his brain without any hassle, without any effort or convincing. Why would he do that when he can mute the video, get up to press his ear against the door and watch a point of view shot of some whore getting her back blown out while listening to you beg for more.

Harder. Faster. More more more. 

You sound like such a slut, such a cock hungry eager slut. It’s easy to picture your face getting wrecked, he knows how rough Jeno can get after years of listening to the squeals and cries coming out of his room. Girls limping their way out with shame written across their face, they never lasted long, got their fill and moved on to the next. You stuck around, further cementing what a whore you must really be..

Jisung sighs, head dropping back against his door, sliding down to his knees to shove his hand past the waistband of his shorts. He hasn’t left his room today, only once to act like he needed to use the bathroom. He wanted to see you, wanted to catch a glimpse of your outfit and makeup before Jeno ruined everything. The amount of shirts and sweaters you’ve probably stolen by now must be taking up space in your closet. 

You’d look good in some of his clothes too, better than you look in his brothers. You’d look better naked though, laid out on his bed with your legs spread open. He’s been hard from the moment he caught a hint of your signature perfume in the air on his way to the bathroom, it’s enough to make his dick twitch. Enough to lick at his lips and imagine what your skin must taste like. He hates perfume, but you always smell so clean, so feminine and fresh..

“Fuck.” Lotion, he needs lotion. His palm feels extra rough today, calloused up from beating his meat relentlessly over the last few weeks. He can’t keep track anymore, losing count of how many times he’s tugged on his cock everyday, drowning out any hint of guilt that tells him that this is wrong. Besides, how wrong can it be when he cums within minutes picturing your face turning to look back at him as he pulls out to make a mess all over your ass.

“Hey, dipshit!” A loud bang against his door has him choking on his spit, coughing and yanking his hand out of his pants as if he’s been burnt. “Mom called, said to buy dinner.”

Jeno knocks again, throwing out another rude name until he gets up and races to turn off his computer, flustered as he wipes his sweaty palms on his shirt and opens the door. 

You’re standing behind him of course, slouching on his brother's back, peering over his bicep when the door opens. “What'dya want?”

His brother always looks annoyed, he can’t understand why, they’re not that different. 

“Pizza.” You whisper, dragging out your request cutely, fingernails running up and down Jeno’s sides. “Pizzzzzzzzzza.”

He chuckles, grabbing your hands to loop your fingers together and tighten your hold around him. “I could go for some pizza.”

Jisung nods, ducking his head to avoid the way you bat your eyes at him behind Jeno’s back. It’s probably all in his head anyway, the small things you do when his brother can’t see you..

“Alright, I have a package coming in soon. Make yourself useful and bring it in for me before someone snatches it, will you?” Jeno says, shoving at his shoulder before turning away with you still attached to his back. “Told you he was probably jerking off.”

The way you laugh at that comment makes his chest tingle, lifting his gaze to steal one more look at you before shutting his door. To his surprise, you’re already looking back, the corners of your mouth lifting up slightly before you step out of view and the front door shuts.

Whatever. He really isn’t hungry, not for food anyway, not when he can still pick up the lingering scent of your body wash permeating off your warm damp skin. He shoves that thought aside before pulling on some sweats, gingerly placing his length between the elastic waistband and his stomach. 

The door rings not even 5 minutes after the two of you have left, groaning as he opens it and finds a large box that looks too heavy to carry to Jeno’s bedroom. “Asshole.” He knew damn well Jisung wouldn’t want to lift this shit, and he told him to anyway. Fuming for a minute, he rolls his eyes and squats to hoist the package up against one of his thighs, grunting as he kicks the door shut and drops it haphazardly to kick down the hall. That’s what Jeno would do with his deliveries, he’s sure.

He contemplates for a moment on whether or not to leave the box outside of his brother's door, shifting back and noticing he didn’t close it all the way. Probably wants him to leave it inside of his room like some lacky, better he assumes that and does it to avoid hearing shit later. Pointing his toes, he nudges the door open lightly, kicking the box inside only to pause when the warm air touches his face. It still reeks of sex inside of here, it still reeks of you. It’s strong, hot, thick on his tongue. 

Jeno’s room faces the street, catching most of the sunlights heat while Jisung’s window has towering trees to keep that out. He glances to his brother’s bed, it’s still messy, the top blanket wrinkled in places you must have been fisting, damp streaks where your lower half must have been resting. 

He shouldn’t itch to touch, to get a closer look, to lower his face and drag his tongue across the wet patch, but he has to. This—this is what he’s been missing out on, this is what his videos can’t replicate. The smell of your arousal, the warmth rolling off your feverish flesh, the taste of your cunt pouring down his lips. 

Jeno would fucking kill him if he found out about this, he thinks, grazing the tips of his fingers over the bundled up chunks of fabric, dragging over a damp spot between. He probably had you on all fours, face down ass up. Jisung salivates picturing it, the exact way he always imagines you looking back at him over your shoulder as he mercilessly slams inside of you. The blanket pinched between your teeth, cunt dripping out past his plummeting length making a sloppy mess all over his bed. 

This is why you sound so muffled sometimes, making his ears strain to hear all of your sweet begging. He bets you look unreal in this light, always imagining you illuminated under the low blue and purple lights in his room, hair tousled on his black sheets. 

He has to drag his nose against the topper, has to clench it between his fist as he lowers to the spot that undoubtedly rivered down from between your thighs. It’s so raw, so real, instantly bolting electric nerves through his length as his lips lightly meet the half-dried area. There’s still too many hints of Jeno’s deeper musk entwined in the other areas, but this is all you. This is all your fucked open pussy, jerking his hips against the edge of his brother’s bed the more he wraps his lips around the material. Fuck, what he’d give to sit between your thighs for a day like a pathetic dog with his mouth hung open pleading for a taste.

He should stop, get out of here before he gets too worked up, circling his hips faster as his chest tightens and his breath comes out faster. He ruts harder, pulling at the blanket and burying his face in deeper. How wet must you get to leave a mess like this behind? Can you squirt? Do your legs shake when you cum? Each drag of his tongue opens up a new possibility, reinventing the ways he’s dreamt of fucking you. He really shouldn’t have done this, now he’ll never be able to stop his mind from running wild.

“Fuck, does that feel good? Pussy so damn tight for me.” He repeats the same shit he hears Jeno spewing while fucking you. The envy he feels nearly outweighs how pathetic he feels. It’d be harder to swallow if he wasn’t so God damn bricked up at the mere thought of you.

“All that bullshit about men being the worst—“ Jeno’s voice echoes down the hall, the front door slamming shut. “When you’re worse than me.”

Giggles play out loud, only halted by lips smacking together. Jisung sits up in a panic, pushing the blanket back to cover most of the mattress. Cursing under his breath he peers around fast, losing his balance as steps ascend down the hall heading his direction.

Shitshitshit, what the fuck! He can’t move fast enough, stumbling to the floor with his painfully erect cock aching as he drags across. 

“It’s your fault, can’t keep your hands to yourself for a minute!” You squeal, thumping against the bedroom door setting him off in a scurry toward the closet. Jeno will chew his head off if he finds him in here, he doesn’t even want to think about it. Why the fuck would the two of you come back in here so soon?! What about the food?!

“You like it.” Jeno murmurs, pushing open the door to his bedroom right as Jisung manages to shut the closet door as quietly as possible. It’s a mess in here, clothes thrown around everywhere. He has to crawl back on his knees slowly to make sure he doesn’t make a sound, taking long quiet breaths to not be heard.

There’s no way he’ll get caught in here, you’ll have to leave eventually, right? The shutter door does nothing to help his confidence, scooting back into what he hopes is too dark to be visible from the other side if either of you were to look over for some reason(like him breathing too loud). Of course you fall to your knees in front of the closet, his brother’s hand shoving you down by your shoulder as his other works to unbutton his jeans. 

“You look best on your knees.” He says, probably smirking judging off the way you smile up at him and reach for the tops of his thighs. “Let’s make this quick though, don’t want the food to get cold.”

“Pftt, I don’t have to suck your dick.” You bite back, digging your fingers into his jeans. “I’m sure your little brother wouldn’t give a fuck about eating if he had me like this.”

Jisung gulps, willing himself to look away when you reach inside of Jeno’s pants to draw his length free. He doesn’t want to see that, well, he does want to. He doesn’t want to watch you touch his brother though. Doesn’t want to ruin the fantasy world he’s built in his head with the harsh reality.

“You seriously wanna fuck him, don’t you?” Jeno sneers, fisting your hair as you begin to glide the tip of his length across your lips. “You never shut up about him, he wouldn’t even know what to do with you.”

Jisung wishes he could tell him off, glaring between the shutters at him. His lips twitch annoyed, fisting at the dirty pile of clothes under his ass. He’d know what to do with you, all he does is think about it, if only you’d let him practice..

“It’s cute, he always looks away when I catch him staring.” You tease, flicking your tongue out. “Never fucked brother’s before, bet it’d be fun.”

A gasp nearly gets sucked out of his throat, tightening his fist around the piles as a tremor runs up his spine. There’s no way you’re serious, right? Probably just messing with Jeno to piss him off. It works too, because he’s telling you to ‘shut the fuck up’ within the next second, probbing his dick past your lips until you’re forced to take it. 

You hardly even gag, making a quiet little sound as his cock disappears. Jisung can feel his thighs shaking before he realizes his hands are too, his bottom lip quivering. The way your lips stretch, the eye contact you manage to maintain despite his brother’s huge thick size struggling to fill your throat. It’s better than watching porn, you are better than watching porn. You’re the nasty perverse wet dream that’s made him wake up with sticky cum coated boxers come to life. 

He knows this is despicable, down right humiliating to watch you blow his older brother off and enjoy it, but between the cuts of vision he can pretend Jeno’s not there. Your lips are pulled back on his size, only he’d cup the back of your head and make you really gag, make your eyes well up with tears. He’d make sure to ruin your throat, have you raspy for days, making excuses for your scratchy voice. Nothing would please him more than knowing his cock punching your tonsils repeatedly had you sounding sick, clearing your throat and coughing. 

Instinctively his hand reaches for the prominent bulge tenting out from his groin. The tip of his cock wet enough to leak through his boxers making him grateful that he threw on sweats before leaving his room. Watching is one thing, but rubbing his cock to this would be too much, wouldn’t it? Does he even care at this point? 

The groans Jeno’s letting out are loud and throaty as usual, thick cock muffling your wet moans vibrating around his length. Jisung reaches inside of his underwear to stroke the precum pouring from his slit up and down his shaft. He curses under his breath, gripping the base tight as a moan rises up his chest.

With a wet pop you pull off, lips plump and debauched already, turning your gaze up as you take a firm hold on his length and expertly fist him. Jisung bites down on his tongue, pulling the small fabric tangled in his fingers up with his mouth to bite down on. A choked gasp breaks when he sees it, lacey red panties still stained along the seat with a creamy white film.

Fuck, these have to be yours. You’re the only girl that’s been around lately. They have to be the ones you had on today too. 

This couldn’t possibly get any nastier, not the typical scenario he imagines. Jeno’s never involved in those, it usually started in the hallway after you’ve showered. Dropping your towel with a sultry gaze locked on him, that’s how he knows this has to be real. You’re still dressed in one of his brother's shirts, and the panties he immediately shoves to his nose still smell ripe. Couldn’t have been stripped off your body longer than two hours ago. Between the wet sloppy sounds emitting from your throat and his hand stroking faster to match the pace, he takes deeper inhales. It’s stupid, envisioning a field covered in your used dirty underwear, falling from the sky even. 

“That’s it, get my balls too.” Jeno grunts, finally grabbing onto your head the way he would. He holds you in place and fucks against your pretty face, bursting tears out of your eyes that are working overtime to stay open. He’s full on fucking your face now, making Jisung’s hand sting from the burn of his slimey palm dragging against his throbbing cock again. He can’t cum like this, that would be mortifying. Especially because he never wants to forget this.

“Fuck, ah shit, swallow it.” Jeno demands, spilling down your throat and reaching down to pinch your nose. Make you choke and gag like a pro. He won’t cum from this, he’s seen this happen so many times, beat his cock to compilations, but it’s the lewd gargled moan you let out. It’s the way his brother rips his cock free from your lips and wads of spit soar out, painting your chin with the most disgusting vile mixture of thick nut and drool.

“Fuck!” Jisung shouts, wrapping your panties around his length as he tugs himself to completion.

“What the fuck?!” The closet doors flying open before he can even finish climaxing, furrowing his eyebrows and grabbing at another piece of clothing to cover his groin. “What the hell are you doing in here?!”

“Oh my God!” You squeak, scurrying to stand up and clean off your face. “You were in there the whole time!”

“Were you seriously fucking jerking off?!” Jeno shrieks, grabbing the younger by his arm to drag him out of the closet. “The hell is your problem pervert?!”

��N-no! I wasn’t!” Jisung panics, lifting his hands to defend himself.

“My panties!” You screech, bending over to snatch them away from his crotch, accidentally brushing his still sensitive twitching length.

“Ahh!” His hips chase your fleeting touch, face burning up as you scream again and drop your freshly soiled underwear.

“Oh my God, he came in them!”

“Ugh, told you he’s a fucking virgin that wouldn’t know what to do with you.” Jeno sneers annoyed, motioning at the younger. “Stand up man! You’re embarrassing me!”

“I’m not a virgin!” Jisung snaps, face on fire the longer he stays on his knees listening to this with two sets of judging eyes on him. 

“You came after only putting in the tip dude! That doesn’t count!” Jeno shouts, groaning and grabbing him to get up. “Why can’t you be normal!”

“You’re a virgin?” You interrupt, seeming intrigued, shyly lifting your thumb to your mouth to bite on.

“No!” He corrects, shoving at the older. 

“Don’t lie.” Jeno shoves him back. They go back and forth for a minute, Jisung frustratedly balling up his fists and standing straight.

“Fine! I’m like—half a virgin.” He says regretfully, lowering his gaze.

“He jerks off too much that’s why.” Jeno announces, spilling all his business. “Can’t hold his shit inside a real pussy, horny bastard.”

“Dude!”

“I’ve never been with a virgin.” You add, bouncing on your tiptoes. 

“He couldn’t handle you, I’ve already told you.” Jeno repeats, flicking your chin. “He doesn’t deserve a pity fuck from you anyway.”

Jisung wants to disagree, ready to grovel for a pity fuck if you’re really down for that. Keeping his gaze lowered, he tries to ignore the way his dick still reacts to the idea. He’d perform magic to erase that almost first time from his memory if it meant he’d have an actual chance to be inside of you.

“Wouldn’t be a pity fuck.” You mumble demurely, tucking your chin to your chest. “He’s cute.”

Jeno throws his hands up, breaking into a laugh. “He won’t last more than 3 minutes inside of you, you’re still tight even after I fuck you.”

Jisung swallows hard, gnawing at his bottom lip anxiously. “Bet I could..”

“Yeah!” You agree, smacking Jeno’s chest. “How much do you want to bet?”

Jeno laughs sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “Just say you wanna fuck him, we don’t need to bet shit.”

“Fine.” You respond, shrugging, trailing your gaze from Jeno to Jisung. He stares back wide-eyed in disbelief.. now this has to be a dream.

“Pittttttttty fuck.” Jeno sings, slapping your ass as he passes you on the way out. “Don’t forget who fucks you right just because you’re into this helpless loser shit my brother has going on.”

He shouts something about eating all of the pizza if the two of you take too long, leaving you to stand awkwardly shuffling across from Jisung. Clearing his throat, he nods and motions for you to exit the room. “Are you sure about this?”

“Are you not? I mean, you ruined my panties, I think you owe me one..” you say coyly, bumping into his side making red hues rise up the back of his neck. Jisung nods much too fast, leading you to his bedroom which is much different from Jeno’s. A lot more cluttered, dark, less of an inviting scent.

He scrambles to light a candle, spraying a bit of cologne when you step in and suck a long breath in through your nose. “Smells like..”

You trail off, dragging your fingers down his computer desk and eyeing the small trash can full of tissues underneath. “Fresh cum.”

Jisung pretends to laugh, shaking his head and waving his hands ‘no’, adding a few more sprays. “I guess it’s true, I mean you are always alone whenever I come over..”

Eyeing him suspiciously, you sit down on his bed, adjusting the shirt you borrowed from Jeno to cover your upper thighs. “But you like me, right?”

He wants to fall to his knees, grovel and perch his chin on your knee and beg you to stop making this even more humiliating for him. “Y-yes..”

“I know Sungie, you’re not good at hiding it..” you grin, leaning back and patting the space beside you. “Come here.”

Jisung listens, sitting down stiffly next to you. His nerves feel insane, burning through his veins, face on fire. He can’t even look at you, can’t even think about having to touch you.

“Look at me.”

You say that like it’s so easy, as if it’s simple enough to turn his face a centimeter to face you. He gulps, scratching at the cotton material stretched over his thighs, mentally pepping himself up to turn. “Ji, I said look at me.” 

And he has to now, with your fingers pinching his chin, sitting closer to him until your lips are only a breath away from his. The same mouth he just watched suck cock like a professional whore, lips still swollen from taking Jeno’s monstrous size. “You seem nervous.”

Shaking his head, he reaches for your throat, that’s usually how it goes in porn. Those girls always liked to be choked, get manhandled and fucked into the floor. Judging by the way you let Jeno treat you, he doubts you’re any different. His hand can practically wrap around your neck, surging a rush a thrill through his gut as he pushes you down on his bed and traps you with his fingers stretched around choking you. “Not nervous.” He grits, kicking your thighs open with his knees to mount you. 

“Are y-you sure—“ you struggle to ask, tugging on his wrist. 

“Shut the fuck up.” His brother had been stern with you before, you seemed to like it. Even now with wide surprised eyes he leans in and nips at your upper lip, hands beginning to tremble. “I should use a condom with an easy slut like you..” he whispers, pouty pink lips dragging against yours. “You let anyone fuck you.”

Confidence, he has to stay confident. Has to steer the control his way, make sure you know that he’s the one in charge here. His cocks thrumming incessantly, screaming to be set free, begging him to finally fuck something other than his poor useless hand. 

Gripping onto your jaw, he licks across your lips, digging his knee higher to prod your bare middle. Fuck, you’re soaking through the cotton material of his sweats. He knew it, you really are the most erotic dream, ripped straight from the most lust crazed filled thoughts. “You need to beg.”

His knee rubs against your core to emphasize his request, cupping your jaw and chin firmly to assault your mouth further. It’s all too good, stirring his aroused heat into a rapid inescapable fire. Every inch of his skin burns, desperate to remove his clothes and draw you into the depths of hell with him. He can’t stop licking between your lips, can’t stop nibbling on your juicy pout long enough to take anything off.

“Ji—s-slow down,” you whine, gripping his narrow hips to drag your cunt up his thigh. “You’re g-getting too worked u-up.”

He should listen, this is exactly what happened last time. Kissing felt too good to stop, dragging his free hand over your perky breasts shot off too many sparks of electricity throughout his system to slow down. The warmth spreading over his thigh just too damn good to do anything other than pull his length out quickly.

“C-can’t.” He mumbles breathily, wrapping around your neck again for leverage. Pushing your thigh open to direct the tip of his aching cock inside of you. He looks devastated, anguished by the pain visibly throbbing his size. He’s so hard, the tip of his length so red and ready to burst. Biting down on his lip he practically lets out a scream as his cockhead finally drags between your sticky wet folds. “A-ahh!”

“D-don’t!” You cough, slapping his hips. “D-don’t you d-dare cum!”

Fuck. Just listening to you angrily reprimand him makes his balls tighten up even more if possible. Tip not even penetrating your tight hole yet, he takes a few deep breaths, head hung between his shoulders watching his length dangle above your pussy. There’s no way he can let go this easily, too scared to even plunge an inch inside of you the more he psyches himself out and stares between your lower halves drunkenly. 

“‘Mm sorry, s-sorry.” He curses, jerking his hips lower until the fat cockhead gets sucked inside of your warm cunt. Chubbed velvety folds wrap around him as if to draw more in, twitching violently where he struggles to not move and keep control of this moment.

“N-no! You can’t, not y-yet!” You exclaim, reaching a hand up to ball up a chunk of his hair up and pull his head back. “Pull out! D-don’t you dare cum!” 

With all the force you can find, you push his hips hard enough to make him slip out, earning a loud guttural shout as he falls out to the side. Even the two inches he managed to get in leave your hole open, hungrily clenching to be fed again. “G-god.” Whining, you sit up and rip off Jeno’s shirt, stradling Jisung’s sturdy thighs.

“You seriously have to be beating off 10 times a day to be cumming from that.” You half-joke, pushing his shirt up to scratch your nails down his chest and slowly bring him back down. His cheeks light up in flames, ruddy bright even in the dark of his bedroom.

“S-sorry, I really wanted to.. make it good for you.” He says pathetically, sniffling and hiding his face in his shoulder.

“It’ll be good for me if you last longer than a minute baby.” You jeer lightly, scooting back to remove his sweats and get a real good look at the size of his long lean figure. Surprisingly fit for someone who hardly ever leaves his bedroom. “Forget all that shit you watch in porn for a second. Just focus on me, okay?”

It’s evident by the state of his trembling figure and sad wet eyes how badly he wants this. How badly he needs this. Slowly lowering your middle down on his hips, you gently position his girthy length between your wet folds, hands smoothing up his trim waist to his chest to hold on to. “S-slow, like this.”

The small amount of willpower you have helps you ease up and down his length to coat him in your wet slick. Jisung bares his teeth, reaching to circle your waist with his big hands, anything to feel your smooth skin. He has to shut his eyes for now, especially when he first looks up and sees your chest bouncing up and down almost like slow-motion.

This- this is better than porn. God, this is better than anything, the smell of desire clinging to the roof of his mouth, your sweaty bodies rubbing together. How the fuck is he not supposed to cum like this? How the fuck does he stop himself from the humiliation of premature ejaculation? He can go for hours falling down a hole of pornographic content, abusing his fleshlight until the batteries run dry. But this is too much, too good to squeeze the fleshy meat lining your hips, too fucking good to drag his hands back up and follow the shape leading up to your tight waist and heavy breasts.

“You’re doing so good.” You manage to say, losing yourself to the pleasure with each passing rub of your clit grinding against the lifted ridge of his cockhead. “Can you take more?”

Jisung nods rapidly, screaming for more, digging his fingers into your hips for more. He can’t, he really can’t, but he wants to so fucking bad. He wants to be inside of you already, wants to feel the tight clamp of your cunt gripping around him until he’s near death.

“Yes yes, p-please.” He has no idea how obscene he looks begging from your point of view above him, thick lips parting open dribbling saliva from the corners. He’s even prettier like this, helpless and powerless to your word.

“Stay put.” You say sternly, lifting your hips to wrap around the middle of his cock. “Let me move slow, okay?”

He can do nothing besides nod again, eyes blinking open needing to watch as you rub the tip against your hole and bite down to suppress a cry. He’s just as thick as Jeno, you think, maybe a little less, still long enough to leave your cervix bruised. “F-fuck you’re.. big.”

It’s the hardest test of strength to not slam his hips upward, to stay in place the way you told him to. His teeth clench as the last inch of his size disappears inside of you, the heat from your inner walls gripped around him makes his lower back arch, tears well up in his eyes.

You try to move slowly, try to circle your hips and stretch yourself open on his length. 

“F-fuck I’m—I can’t do it.” He cries, scratching your hips and upper thighs roughly. “Too wet, too warm.”

“You c-can baby,” linking your fingers through his, you move his hands to his chest and roll your hips faster. Keeping your hands held together as you build up speed and lift up and down a little faster until a burn scorches up your thighs. “You’re doing so good.”

“Ahh, p-please!” He begs, eyes and nose scrunching up the faster you ride his length. “N-need to!” 

“Do it,” encouraging him, you grab onto his neck firmly with both hands, forcing his face to look at you. “Fuck me.”

Jisung’s chest rises steadily, shoulders stiffening as his teeth grit and he reaches for your waist to toss you down on his bed. Without sliding out more than a few inches he thrusts erratically to chase after the release that’s been begging to be let out from the second he got an inch inside of you. Hard thrust rock your back up higher, still clawing at his neck and shoulders even as his weight drops down on you faster and faster. The entire floor feels like it’s shaking with each powerful collision of his hips clapping against the back of your thighs and ass.

“Y-yes yes!” You moan prettily, the same moans that have gotten him through 5 rounds of fisting his cock like no tomorrow. The same moans he wished would be for him finally singing from your lips for him, only him.

“My n-name,” he stutters, face red and sweaty, lips covered with spit. “P-please say m-my name.”

“Jisung,” you whine, that seductive sweet whine that can make him lose his mind. High-pitched and shattered, sending his hips into a furious pace the more you continue to repeat it. “Sungie, Jisung.. p-please don’t, d-don’t stop! Jisung!”

“Ahh f-fuckkk!” He can barely control his hips as he pulls out with the wettest pop, dripping wet cock slapping down on your stomach. It already hurts too much to even bother with stroking himself to finish, hips writhing forward leaving a slimy path of your own arousal lined up the middle of your stomach.

“Jisu—“ your palms swipes up from the base of his size, cock still fat and long even beneath your stretched fingers. It’s enough to empty his balls until they literally ache. Having to hunch forward and whimper through it. Forcing himself to tear his eyes away from the sight of your abdomen painted in the milky white cream jumping in rivulets out of his twitching dick.

“Holy shit..” you sigh out, catching your breath under the sticky weight of warm cum beginning to dry on your skin. “That’s— you came so much..”

“S-sorry..” he murmurs, moving to your side to lie down, head spinning too much as he blinks at the ceiling. “For all of that.”

“Why? It’s cute..” you say shyly, somehow pulling that soft shy tone out of some hidden bag of tricks you must have after all that. “Never a bad thing to like fucking that much..”

“Think I just like you that much.” He admits, eyes shifting to the side to gauge your reaction. He shouldn’t say that, given the reason you’re even here to begin with, but how can he not?

“I can tell,” you smirk, dragging two fingers through the mess painted on your stomach. “I’m sure we can figure something out.. I know how to work your brother if you haven’t noticed.”

Jisung hums, sitting up feeling strung out and exhausted. “I should clean you, right?”

“That’d be nice.” You nod, watching him get up to find a clean towel.

“How was it? I mean, like, how did I do?” He asks, sitting down and lightly dragging a small towel from your chest to your stomach.

A sneaky smile pulls at your lips, sighing and relaxing. “Not bad for a gooner.”

Jisung blows out a breath nervously, scratching his cheek and shrugging. “I don’t know you’re talking about.”

Sitting up, you reach for his right hand, lifting it up to your face to trace over all the rough calluses lined up and down his palm. “By the time I’m through with you, you’ll forget how your hand even felt.”

“What?”

“Jeno’s not my only fuck buddy.” You wink, shoving his hand away. “Let’s get dressed before he eats through everything.”

Jisung helps you get up, not wanting to further question what you mean by that. Instead he finds a clean shirt to hand you, confirming that he’s right, you do look better in his clothes.

“You’re not getting this shirt back by the way.” You say, pinching his cheek exactly the same way you had weeks ago. “Cutie.”

Dabbing at his blushing cheeks he watches you head out before following after you. Needing to calm himself for a minute. 

You can keep it.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

[falling-endlessly]

Boomerang (part 2)

Vox x Female!Ex!Overlord!Reader

Summary: After being faced with a dilemma, Vox tries a new approach to get you back. All hell breaks loose.

<—Part 1 Chapter Index Part 3—>

"You're shitting me right now," Velvette's eye twitched as she stared at the snoring TV demon sprawled across your bed. "For fuck's sake, what am I? A babysitter?"

"At least he's knocked out," you crossed your arms, raising a brow. "You won't have to listen him try and tell you that he lost his hat, only to realize it was on his head the whole time, and then start crying because he forgot he owned such a cool hat."

Velvette smacked her forehead audibly, dragging the hand down her face. "Jesus Christ," she hissed under her breath, before glaring at you in irritation. "You know, none of this would have happened if you hadn't left, right?"

"Vel," you said tiredly, rubbing your temples.

"Do you know how fucking annoying it is to hear him bitch all goddamn day about you?" She growled, waving her hands around aggressively. "I'm this close," she held her fingers a millimeter apart. "To pouring water all over his monitors. This. Close."

"Vel—"

"And then there's Valentino, who's also in a fucking mood. You know what? Forget about the water. I'm going to shoot both of them in the—"

"Velvette!" You raised your voice, making her grit her teeth. "I'm not coming back. He made his choice," you glanced at the demon in question, currently drooling all over your pillow. "It's not my problem anymore."

"Is that what you think?" She snapped, crossing her arms. "That you can just, what, leave your shit in a mess and walk out? Sorry to burst your bubble bitch, but you aren't fucking Cinderella. Things aren't just going to magically work out if you hide from them."

"I'm not hiding—"

"Bullshit!" She growled.

Your jaw set tightly as you both stood in a tense silence, glaring at each other.

After a few seconds, you sighed, shaking your head. "He already knows what he has to do if he wants to fix this," you said firmly. "I'm not going to change my mind."

Velvette pressed her lips together, before letting out an irritated breath. "Always fucking cleaning up everyone else's messes," she muttered angrily under her breath as she roughly hoisted Vox's limp body over her shoulder. "I'm going to kill him. Pathetic piece of shit—keep up a good image my ass."

She was almost out of the window when you called out, "Vel."

Velvette turned to give you an annoyed what now look over her shoulder, scowling impatiently.

"Thanks," you said sincerely.

She didn't answer you, instead turning and vaulting herself out of the window, disappearing from sight.

****

Vox woke up feeling like his screen was being forcibly bent in half. "What the ungodly fuck?" he whimpered, grabbing fistfuls of his sweaty bed sheets as he tried to control his breathing.

His stomach roiled ominously, making him gag. "Nope, nope. Not here," he stumbled out of bed, staggering to his attached bathroom like a desperate zombie and nearly running face first into the wall.

Vox dropped to his knees, flipping open the toilet lid and shooting out an unholy amount of chunks.

"What the—ugh, holy shit!" Velvette coughed from the doorway, shielding her face. "God, that smells worse than that skit when Angel got shat on."

Fuck you, he wanted to say. What the fuck are you doing in my bathroom?

But instead what came out was: "FUghhhuckk!"

Velvette watched him, unimpressed and disgusted. "You're an idiot."

"Not. Helping." Vox growled miserably, screen flickering as he gripped the edges of the toilet bowl.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Velvette jeered unsympathetically. "Who dragged your pathetic drunk ass back here last night? Oh, that's right!" She snapped her fingers in a mock eureka! moment. "I did. How about a little gratitude?"

Vox lifted a weak, trembling hand and flipped her off.

Velvette rolled her eyes. "Ungrateful bitch," she muttered under her breath.

Vox heaved loudly into the toilet, making her cringe. Gross. She grabbed the hand towel off of the rack, before throwing it at his head. It landed on the top of his monitor, hanging off the corner, before he grabbed it and sluggishly wiped his mouth. "I th-think I'm sh-short circuiting," he groaned, gripping his head in pain.

"You'll be fine," Velvette closed her eyes in frustration, but internally her thoughts took a different turn. She hadn't seen Vox this fucked up in ages. Val maybe. But not Vox. He cared way too much about his public image. This erratic behavior was very, very unlike him, and it was starting to become...concerning.

"What happened?" Vox coughed, leaning his monitor weakly against his forearms. The last thing he remembered was the fight with Val, and then—a garden...? The hell?

"Well, apparently, your dumbass thought it was a good idea to pay Y/n a visit—" Vox froze at the sound of your name "—to personally deliver her flowers at three in the morning. Then you cried about your stupid hat, passed out in her room, and she called me to pick you up like an incompetent child. The end."

By the end of her rant, Vox's expression looked even more pained, if that was even possible. "Shitttt," he moaned, curling in on himself. "Fuck. Shit. Fuck."

He looked so pathetic and distraught that Velvette almost felt bad for him. Almost.

For a long moment, the only sounds in the room were Vox's labored breaths and Velvette's judgmental stare. The silence was starting to border on stifling when Vox finally broke it.

"Did she like it?" He asked quietly.

"What?" Velvette scowled, crossing her arms.

"The roses," he continued, making her raise a brow. So he did remember buying the flowers then, she never told him what kind they were. "Did she like them?"

She was about to dismiss it when a sudden memory struck her, making her pause. "She kept them. In a vase on her night stand."

Vox slowly lifted his head, a warmth (not bile this time) blooming in his chest. You kept them. Even though he'd made a fool out of himself and probably ruined your night. And you didn't kick him out, either.

You still care, he realized, with a fragile, growing hope.

And that meant—he had a chance. Not baseless hope this time, an actual, legitimate chance to win you back. A slow, goofy grin started to climb his face.

"What—what the fuck? What's with the idiotic look on your face?" Velvette cringed away, disturbed. Then realization hit her as her eyes rolled skyward. "You're going to do something incredibly stupid, aren't you?"

"Maybe," he grinned, before another bout of nausea hit him, making him retch violently into the bowl.

"Idiot," Velvette reiterated.

****

"Oh, hell no," you heard Vaggie say, making you glance up. The moth demon looked incredibly hostile, spear pointed at whoever was at the door.

Concerned, you lifted from the lounge chair you were seated in, taking a few steps towards them, only for a firm hand to land on your shoulder.

"Toots," Angel Dust laughed nervously, moving to block the scene with his body. "Maybe you should let the others sort this one out, yeah?"

"Angel, I know I don't look like much, but I'm an overlord," you raised a brow, peeling his hand off of your shoulder with ease. "I can probably help."

"Shit! Wait, you're not going to like this," Angel groaned under his breath, but it was too late. You'd already seen him.

Vox caught your eye, a charming smile quirking his mouth. "Hey, doll."

Your fists curled by your sides, eyes flashing dangerously as you started to dematerialize, glowing green code dancing along your skin. You glitched out, growing substantially in stature as your mouth distended horrifically.

"Ohhh shit," Angel cursed, taking cover behind the bar counter.

"What's wrong?" Charlie's confused voice came from the stairwell, only to gasp at your demonic form, glitching horribly as your voice raged like gravelly static. It almost sounded like there was another, deeper voice speaking in tandem with yours.

"Woah!" She bolted to the scene, catching sight of a pale Vox, shocked Vaggie, and gaping Niffty. Husk, Pentious and Angel had done the smart thing and taken cover behind the bar.

"Y/n," she smiled placatingly, raising her hands in a show of non-aggression. "What's going on?"

"Gonna kill him," you spat, making everyone wince. "Can't have one goddamn moment to myself without this fucker appearing like a fucking genital wart—"

 "Hey," Vox laughed nervously. "I'm not here for any of that, I promise. Just—sweetheart—could you maybe not hover over me like that—"

"O-kay Y/n," Charlie stepped between the two of you. "Maybe just calm down, take a few deep breaths, and let's hear him out."

"Charlie, he blew up the hotel two days ago," Vaggie hissed through gritted teeth.

"Yeah, well, so did Pentious," Charlie raised a brow, wincing at said demon's faint protest.

"Pentious blew a hole in the wall," Vaggie argued. "This guy blew up half of the building!"

"Charlie!" Angel yelled, voice strained. "Do something before we all die!"

"Alastor's going to kill him," Niffty said cheerfully.

"I'll kill him first."

"Guys—" Charlie pleaded.

"I'm here for redemption!" Vox's voice cut through the air, making everyone freeze. It even shocked you out of your demonic form, the glowing code disappearing as you shrunk to normal proportions.

"You what?" you snapped.

"I want to...make things right," he glanced at you, making you grit your teeth and turn away. "I'm not here to cause trouble I swear—"

The door slammed in his face, cutting him off.

"Charlie," Alastor grinned, finally pulled from wherever the hell he'd fucked off to in his free time. "Tell me you're not thinking of letting this mongrel stay, are you?"

"What is this?" Vaggie hissed, dropping her head in her hands. "Overlord central?"

Charlie looked down, pursing her lips. "Well, it would be wrong of us to refuse anyone. It is open to everyone, after all."

"Think of Y/n!" Alastor said desperately, smile twitching as he clasped his hands on your shoulders, holding you out like some sort of charity case. You gave him an unimpressed look. "It's obvious he's only here to harass her!"

"And what were you here for again?" Charlie raised a brow. "To see demons trip and tumble down into the fiery pit of failure," she deepened her voice to imitate his, making him let out a screech of radio feedback.

"Look, I appreciate the concern, but I can take care of myself," you said, disgruntled as you shrugged off Alastor's uncomfortably tightening grip. "Charlie, do what you want. But I can't promise I won't kill him."

You were starting to accept the fact that there was nowhere in hell you could possibly go to escape your ex if he didn't wish it. That didn’t mean you wouldn’t put up a fight, though.

"Oh fuck," Angel dragged a hand down in face. He already knew what Charlie was going to decide. "Shoulda fuckin' stayed over with Cherri."

Charlie took a deep breath, and despite everyone's silent pleas, reached for the door handle and twisted it open. Vox perked up, turning towards her attentively.

"Welcome to Hazbin Hotel!" She attempted an awkward, welcoming smile.

****

<—Part 1 Chapter Index Part 3—>

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