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wri0thesley · 1 year

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canicular - yandere kaveh x fem!reader x yandere alhaitham (6.8k)

it's a tough lesson to learn.

cw: yandere. mentions of past dub-con, non-con (non-explicit), physical punishment. abuse. reader is referred to by feminine pronouns.

this was a commissioned work.

If there is one thing you are not short on, it is time.

Though Alhaitham provides what he thinks are stimulating ways to pass your existence, you do not often feel inclined to read the thick tomes of Sumeru history or ancient language studies that he leaves on the table for you. Nor do you have any inclination towards the other hobbies he has tried to get you to pick up, in order to keep your hands busy and your brain exercised - what desire have you to do a jigsaw puzzle or a book of word games when you feel like a caged tiger, pacing uselessly back and forth with no end in sight?

Kaveh, at least, tries to get you to occupy your long hours with things that are transporting. His own pencils and papers and paints (a sad smile on his face when he caresses your cheek and sighs and says ‘why don’t you try drawing where you would rather be?’). Alhaitham tries to improve you; to mould you into what he expects you to be and what he wants you to be and what he thinks you ought to be.

Kaveh, at least, sees you as something human, with human needs and human feelings and human wants. Wants that are not half an hour of cursory sunshine so you do not develop a Vitamin D deficiency, not a meal chosen entirely for nutritional properties and not how it might taste in your mouth (Alhaitham is not a cook - you always prefer Kaveh’s meals, though the Scribe clicks his tongue and says things about how there’s no health benefits to the nostalgic desserts that Kaveh tries to get Alhaitham to let him make for you).

Kaveh sees in you the human need for companionship and sympathy and something other than Alhaitham’s blank face when you rage at him and sob and pound on his chest and demand he let you go home. Something other than Alhaitham’s insistence that this is better for you; that he is a good master, that your life is simpler and more suitable now, that he is simply putting the world to rights by taking you as his-- his pet, his dog, his slave, his lover--

What are you truly, again? Other, of course, than his?

In lieu of being Alhaitham’s dog in need of training, when you can, you gravitate to the architect - who wouldn’t, when your other option is a man who watches you cry and replies only with: “And what are you hoping to gain from your tears, exactly?”? And Kaveh, in return, gives you his own sympathy and his sighs and a stroke of your hair that has no hidden meaning at all, you’re sure, but his desire to comfort.

If sometimes you let him take you, after all of the comfort - if you spread your legs for him and sigh and nose against his neck and murmur soft sweet appreciation - that is neither here nor there. You have such precious little opportunity to make decisions for yourself, so why should you not? You tell yourself fiercely, with your mouth wine-stained with Kaveh’s lips, that you would make the same decision were you not a prisoner. Kaveh is the kind of man you would have sought out for yourself, you decide. And he never takes advantage; never makes the first move, waits for your sniffles and hesitant kisses and shaking hand as it traces the elegant line of his collarbone.

But Kaveh is not always home. Kaveh goes into the desert, works for weeks on a project somewhere else in Sumeru wherever his architectural genius is summoned, and leaves you to the untender mercies of the man who caused all of the heartache in the first place.

Alhaitham is never later than ten minutes after work (and on those occasions, his normally calm face has a twitch of fury about it). He never forgets what time he has set your meals for, never forgives an order that has gone unfulfilled (and you have the marks over buttocks and thigh and back to prove that), never lets you answer back or skip out on one of his ordained rituals for your health. He is a constant; a knife that carves out your life, ever sharpened and ever ready.

You practically throw yourself at Kaveh when he returns, if you have been alone with Alhaitham too long. Bury your head in his neck and sigh about how you missed him the moment that you can get him alone, smile and thank him with earnest words when he produces some treasure he saw whilst he was out and about and gifts it to you (they are never lavish gifts; Kaveh does not have the Mora to spare. But a fresh Zaytun peach or a Sumeru Rose plucked from the wildest parts of your nation is a treasure to you nonetheless, when your life is a narrow square of home-and-garden you are not permitted to leave).

. . . It is easier to force yourself not to notice the way Kaveh’s golden eyes catch yours after the gift, as if he is waiting for and expecting the kiss that you press onto his lips as a thanks that never seems to end at just a kiss.

Kaveh’s comforts do not come often enough, in your opinion. Certainly their number does not match up to that of Alhaitham’s firm commands - his lips on yours, his hand on the top of your head forcing you to your knees, his insistent quizzing on the book he left for you today that you have not so much glanced at, his carefully marked schedules of when you should eat and when your period is due and all of the other minutiae of life you had never stopped too long to consider before.

In the past, you had not needed to dwell on these things. You had daydreamed some, of course, of some loving faceless significant other who might hand-feed you slices of Harra Fruit and write you poetry and curl against you until you felt like the two of you were one - but you had always had faith that this would come for you. Perhaps when you least expected it, a fanciful fairytale dropped from the sky into your waiting lap--

You had not reckoned on Alhaitham.

If nothing else, he has provided you with plenty of hours to daydream. An endless yawning, stretching chasm of a future that you try to fill with the paints Kaveh brings you, with constant machinations about an escape route. Sometimes when you imagine leaving, you are hand in hand with a blond man with a smile like a fresh flower blooming, feather haphazardly stuck in his hair, a promise to somehow find enough Mora to build a pretty little cottage in the middle of nowhere where one does not have to worry about stern silver-haired scholars.

You have the time.

Summer in Sumeru is difficult at the best of times. Under Alhaitham’s captivity (you never think of it as Alhaitham-and-Kaveh, so certain are you that the architect would free you if only Alhaitham were not in the picture), it is even worse. You can no longer open the door and stroll out into the Grand Bazaar, where the air is darker and cooler. You can no longer stop off at some merchant or another to buy a cool treat, take a dip in one of the lakes if you so feel like it - all you can do is try and find the shadiest spot in the locked house, lie upon your back and wish for a breeze or two.

“You shouldn’t stay there all day,” Alhaitham says, reproach evident in his voice, when he comes home at seven minutes past five in the afternoon like he always does. “Your muscles will atrophy.”

You sigh in response, long used to the fact that if you argue he will twist your words around until you’re sure of nothing - if you argue too much, you’ll lose some other privilege you hadn’t realised was a privilege until Alhaitham had taken it away.

(Once it had been hot water that you’d had removed, and Alhaitham had stood in the bathroom with you as cold water drenched your hair and your body and gooseflesh broke out along your skin, his face unmoving despite your nakedness. You know that he does, at least, hold some attraction to your naked form - the fact he had not let even a flicker of desire cross his face as you shivered and shuddered there was testament to his insistence you must learn your place. Actually, though, right now, you do not think a cold shower would be a punishment. It sounds rather nice, even if Alhaitham is there to watch you with calm inexpressive eyes.)

“It would be cruel,” you say instead, “to leave a dog in these conditions all day.”

He prefers this kind of reasoning; a debate, and not an argument. If you stay calm and even and you appeal to logic, you might have a chance of survival.

“There are some folding-fans in one of the drawers,” he says. “A present from one of the Inazuman clients Kaveh worked for, I think.”

“Surely they would just blow hot air back in my face?” You ask him. He considers for a moment, looking at you on the floor where you have not moved. You are in one of the loose robe-like garments you are permitted to wear around the house (far less chance of you trying to escape, Alhaitham reasons, if you feel indecent - he has not bargained on the fact that at this point you would run naked through Sumeru City if it means breaking out of his oppressive regime), thighs bare, neckline pulled as far apart as it can go so what little air there is can touch your sweat slicked skin.

“What would you prefer?” He asks, with a note of warning in his voice that most people would not pick up on. You must tread carefully.

“Leave the window open a crack,” you suggest. “Not enough for me to get out. Just . . . enough for a breeze. So that I don’t feel the air around me is pushing down on me until I suffocate.”

“Hyperbole,” he says. “You cannot suffocate on air.”

You bite your tongue. The request shimmers in the air for a few moments, a tangible thing - Alhaitham weighs up the pros and the cons.

“No,” he says, and the thread of hope you hadn’t realised you were holding snaps. “Not whilst I’m out. Not whilst nobody is here to watch you.”

Any response you might have made dies on your lips as a key clatters in the door and it opens, a long-limbed elegant body tumbling through in record time. Kaveh always enters like this; as if he is afraid that if he takes longer than a moment, shouts will rise up around Sumeru City and mock him and his secret will be splashed across every noticeboard in town. Kaveh pretends he does not live here, because he is an important man who should be doing better. You pretend you do not live there because you are still holding your own home in your heart - your own garden of flowers and fruits, your own shelf of books and your own hobbies and things strewn across surfaces.

Alhaitham does not pretend; he merely avoids speaking to anyone about his home life. You had been as surprised as him when Kaveh had unlocked his door and walked in to see what the thumping and muffled noises emanating from Alhaitham’s room were, and had come across you. Alhaitham had not mentioned a roommate to you even before your captivity, and Alhaitham had not mentioned a pet human to Kaveh at any point in time or given any indication this was the kind of thing he would do.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Kaveh had said, immediately upon seeing you, crouching down next to you, his hand hovering by the gag wedged into your mouth. “I . . . did Alhaitham do this to you?”

You’d nodded tearfully, and Kaveh’s eyebrows had knitted into sympathy. You recognised him only vaguely, but you did at least see the emotions flittering across his handsome, open face - so much more than you’d ever gotten from Alhaitham. Even when he’d unceremoniously locked you in his bedroom and you’d screamed yourself hoarse into a gag and rubbed your wrists sore on the rope, Alhaitham had done nothing more than raise an unimpressed eyebrow at you.

“I’m going to take the gag away,” Kaveh had said to you, at the time. “Please don’t scream.”

He had been so earnest in the request, and you had been so grateful to see somebody who was not Alhaitham and was clearly properly horrified by your predicament and was not treating it like it was perfectly normal, that you had nodded. Calm, clever fingers had worked beneath the wedge of cotton in your mouth and pried it spit-slicked from between your lips.

“Can you speak?” He’d asked, and when you’d tried and you had not managed to get out more than a wheeze he had fetched you a glass of water and held it to your parched lips.

“I can’t untie you,” he’d said, helplessly, his gold eyes flitting to where the ropes had rubbed you raw. “Alhaitham would be . . . unhappy with me. But maybe I could try and loosen them? Move them higher up, so I can take care of the blood?”

You had thought that he must be some other prisoner of Alhaitham’s, back then. As he’d given you more sips of water and you’d hiccuped and grated out some of the story that had lead you here, and he’d nodded and made soft little noises of horror and understanding, as he’d cleaned the wounds and commiserate with you over what a brute Alhaitham was, even to him, the Scribe’s senior. He’d knuckled your bruises away so gently that you’d cried more, and admitted to him that you feared you would never feel a tender touch again.

“You poor thing,” Kaveh had repeated, looking at you with those pools of molten gold. “Don’t worry. You and I are comrades in arms. We’ll take care of one another as best we can.”

You know now that Kaveh’s predicament is not quite the same as yours - partly based on Kaveh’s own stubbornness and pride, instead of the unmoving unrelenting coldness of Alhaitham instead. But that first night, he firmly positioned himself as an ally. Had argued with Alhaitham when the Scribe had come back about how he could not gag you, could not tie you so tightly, could not leave you waterless and foodless in his bedroom all day. A knight in shining armour, you had thought - and the first thing you had done when your bonds were finally loosened was wrap your arms about the surprised blond and thank him.

“Anyone would have done the same,” he’d said, as you’d sobbed into his shoulder and Alhaitham had watched, lip curled at the corner, face unreadable. “Anyone with a heart.”

He’d held the embrace just a little too long.

“You’re home,” you say to Kaveh, back in the present, and you smile at him, a trembling, wavering thing. Sweat is beading on your brow. The brief rush of cool air that Kaveh lets in is a welcome change, and Alhaitham sighs as he walks towards the window. You notice which drawer he goes into - the tiny key that he produces from one of Kaveh’s many cubby-holes on the architect’s desk. Amongst rulers and tiny screwdrivers and silver-flashing scissors. Alhaitham allows the window to open the smallest crack - the one that looks out only into the garden, so nobody passing by might hear voices they do not expect coming from a house they know belongs to Alhaitham.

“I am,” he says, with a smile. “I brought you a present.”

“You’re spoiling her,” Alhaitham says mildly, as you turn your head to Kaveh. You hear the drawer click; another key turn. It is never so simple as ‘get a key from a drawer’. Alhaitham is not so foolish. “What has she done to deserve a present?”

“You don’t have to do things,” Kaveh argues. “It’s nice to have nice things!” You see now that he is holding a small bowl, the kind that the food stalls give out with food bought to travel with - he walks towards you with a smile on his face and holds it out. Inside of the little pale brown half-moon of a bowl are three scoops of some kind of frozen treat, and your mouth waters. You finally move from your spot on the floor to reach out for it.

“Say ‘thank you’,” Alhaitham says sharply, before your hands can close around it. “Or I’ll have it myself. No doubt he paid for it on my tab.��

Kaveh glares at him from under his pale brows but does not argue - you, with your throat dry and hot, babble out thanks to Kaveh and reach out again. Alhaitham clicks his tongue once more.

“Wait,” he tells you, command in his voice. “You’re not even going to ask me if you can have it?”

“Alhaitham--”

“She has to learn,” his voice is final, a rough lightning strike through the room, a man who has never wavered in his convictions. “A disobedient animal is no better than a wild one.”

“Please,” you say to Alhaitham, sensing that arguments are brewing, that tension is crackling. “Please may I have it.”

Green eyes catch yours and leave you hanging desperately and wordlessly for a moment. You dare not move. You wonder if he’s going to bring up you asking about the window, and use that as an excuse - or perhaps what a waste you’ve made of the day, how you should have made yourself move from the cool floorboards like you’re supposed to. You cannot breathe.

Alhaitham gives a wordless nod as he turns on his heel.

“I’m going to get out of my work clothes,” he says. “Have a cold shower. Make sure you behave, and we’ll go into the garden at dusk when it’s cooler.”

Shoulders untense. Kaveh smiles at you and holds out the bowl again. Your mouth waters as you reach for it - you barely notice that Kaveh does not relinquish the hold of his long fingers upon it until you’ve kissed him on the cheek and let him kiss you softly on the mouth in return. It does not seem important.

His own mouth tastes like the dessert, too. He did not have to wait to be brought it by some kind, sympathetic soul. He could have had as many servings as he liked.

You savour every spoonful.

You know your way around the house. You have earnt freedoms to be allowed to wander it at will - if you want to, you can go into the kitchen and fetch yourself something to eat (Alhaitham encourages that, in fact - as long as it is that you’re eating one of his approved foods). You can choose from the many tomes that line the walls, can sit in the living room or the study or on Alhaitham’s desk chair if that’s where you wish to be.

You cannot leave, of course.

Golden locks mock you wherever you look; some intricate, some simple, but none with a key you possess. You’ve seen Alhaitham with two keys to the front door - a cruel joke, when you are not even permitted one. The keys to the windows, to Alhaitham’s desk itself, to all of the drawers and the places you are not allowed to look sit side by side on Alhaitham’s keyring like sentinels guarding you from freedom.

You think about the open window, when Alhaitham cracks it just a little when he comes home. Stand by it and try and get some breeze; strain to hear the voices that are very far away, wondering what’s going on in the life you have abandoned like a missing jigsaw puzzle piece. Has the mould you had been battling with, beneath your own bedroom window, finally beaten you? The spider that dwells in your darkest bathroom corner started a family? Has post piled up on your doormat - letters that will go unanswered for who knows how long?

You have only one hiding place. One loose floorboard, in the very corner of Alhaitham’s room - Kaveh doesn’t go in there often, or you’re certain the architect would have noticed it. You keep some trinkets in there - a dried flower Kaveh had once put in your hair, a necklace he had given you made of cheap beads that he’d bought from some do-gooder selling them for charity.

(Alhaitham had seen you wearing it and pursed his lip; later on that night, when he’d taken you into the shower to wash your hair, he had unclipped it and dropped it into the wastepaper bin.

“It doesn’t suit you,” he’d said. “It will just break and the beads will scatter everywhere. There’s no reason to be giving you any presents right now.”

Whilst you’re sure he meant all of those things too, there’d been something else running through the current of his words; I don’t want you to wear anything that I don’t pick out for you. You’re mine, and if anyone were to collar you . . . it would be me.)

And, your greatest treasures of all - loose Mora, left about the house by Alhaitham and Kaveh. Alhaitham is always complaining about Kaveh dusting and tidying and moving money and not telling him where it has gone - sighing over Kaveh not paying enough attention to things. The idea that you would take it does not cross his mind. He doesn’t know about your hiding spot, so in his mind you’d have nowhere to keep it--

But, too, there is this.

You stay in his home all day, a mostly well-behaved prisoner. He provides you with nutrition and food and clothes. He provides you with attention (whether you want it or not). You have nowhere to go, nothing to buy, and not a single reason to have even a coin to yourself. What would you do with Mora?

It is one of the places his rationality fails him.

In both small and large denominations, you have more than enough Mora to make it to Liyue, Mondstadt, and far away from Sumeru stashed away on a boat to the island nation of Inazuma, where even Alhaitham (you’re certain) could not drag you from your new life.

Kaveh is the one who gives you the opening, in the end. He and Alhaitham have an argument in the early morning - from your position wrapped in Alhaitham’s sheet, you half-listen. It’s about you. It often is. Kaveh is trying to argue with Alhaitham about how he should be allowed to take you out with him into the garden in the morning, that the one half-hour of sunlight is not enough and perhaps you and Kaveh could even cultivate a little flower-patch out there, to give you something to do--

It’s a well-worn argument, one that Alhaitham always wins. Kaveh is not responsible enough to be in sole charge of you outside, Alhaitham says. He spoils you too much. You smile into your pillow as you imagine that little cottage once more, of tending to a garden with Kaveh--

Kaveh slams the door on the way out. Alhaitham comes back to you to rouse you from bed, sighing over Kaveh, scolding you for not getting up yourself - he, too, is distracted by the argument, and that distraction does not ease. He is working from home today, he tells you, so the window can be cracked all day.

At seven in the evening, the window has still not been closed, and Alhaitham has pulled you onto his lap to read with you perched there. At eight in the evening, Alhaitham grits his teeth that Kaveh hasn’t come back yet and tells you he is going to the tavern to drag his ungrateful roommate home--

And he leaves with the window still cracked.

At quarter past eight, Kaveh is dragged into the room smelling of wine and Alhaitham follows him in, sullen as ever. He still does not notice the cracked open window, as he drags Kaveh into the bathroom and commands him to brush his teeth, to splash himself with cold water and pull himself together.

The window has not been seen to. The drawer that he had put the window key back into remains unlocked.

When Alhaitham returns to the main room, you pretend to be worried over him. You ask if there’s anything you can do, framing it as a kind of shaking fear the Scribe may take out his frustrations on you, and you let Alhaitham take you into his bedroom to work off the stress.

You stare into the empty space behind his shoulder while he’s inside of you and think about slipping through the open window and out into the world again.

The next morning, Alhaitham chances a gaze at the window and nods to himself when he sees it - for all intents and purposes, locked. You’d shimmied the frame up painstakingly slowly last night when you’d murmured about needing the bathroom, hoping he wouldn’t remember. He’d grumbled in his sleep but had not protested.

He leaves the same time he always does - Kaveh, slumped in his own bedroom from the hangover, stays where he is.

And you hold the unlocked window like a secret flame in the candle of your heart.

You still do not dare do anything until an hour after Alhaitham has left, terrified that he will return and you will be punished horribly for daring to think escape would be possible. But as time ticks on, and the sun rises higher in the sky, you begin to convince yourself that this is all going to be fine.

You go into the living room and to the window. It leads out into the garden, but that is fine; you can scale a fence. That is no difficult task after everything else you’ve been through. You test it, wiggling it open just a crack, and a light breeze hits your heated face as excitement begins to rise in your bones.

Back into Alhaitham’s rooms to go beneath the floorboards and take your little pouch of Mora, heavy in your hand as you tie it with cord around your waist. You do not have a bag, and your flimsy robe has no pockets - but those are things to be thought of later. Perhaps you will take some well-worn dress from a washing line, where it dries in the wind. Perhaps you can spare a few coins for something that does not show off the ample curves of your body so much. You can allow yourself, now, to think of those things.

Content, you open the window wider. You let yourself linger there in front of the window for longer, fresh air on your face and the promise of escape playing a siren’s melody. This time tomorrow, you will be free.

You look towards Kaveh’s bedroom and smile.

So will he.

All of those dreams you’ve had can be made reality; you will both find yourself out from beneath Alhaitham’s thumb with a future stretching ahead of you, together. You can repay Kaveh for his kindness - can sometimes be the one to bring him a gift of flowers or fruits or a beautiful leaf on the ground. You can walk hand in hand with him and this will be but a distant memory.

You rap softly on his door.

“Kaveh?” You call into the crack of the hinge. “Are you awake?”

Kaveh mumbles your name. Stirring from within his room, as he moves about it, a murmured response that he’ll be out as soon as he’s decent - you can barely wait. Unrestrained tension fizzes through all of your veins, excitement and pleasure and anticipation. You let yourself imagine him boosting you out of the window, both of you laughing as you tumble onto the grass beneath the windowsill--

His door opens and he stands there, dark shadows beneath his eyes and his hair more ruffled than usual but the kind smile that you have grown so fond of firmly on his face.

“I have something to show you,” you tell him, tugging his arm. “Come on, come with me!”

“Is it a new painting?” He asks, mildly, letting himself be dragged along with that smile still on his face. “Ah, have you found another lovely tale in one of those books you want to read to me? I do adore you, you know--”

You pull him into the living room and, with a bright, optimistic look on your face, motion to the wide-open window where the wispy white curtains are fluttering in the breeze.

Kaveh does not speak for a time.

He swallows.

You can see his thoughts racing behind his eyes and you mistake them for fear; trepidation of a life with nothing. But that’s alright; you have made provisions for such things!

You jingle the Mora, as those sharp golden eyes move from you to the window and back again.

You give him a hopeful smile, all bright eyes and idealism that you’ve always thought he’d share with you. Freedom calls; a life away from Alhaitham. “We can leave,” you say. “We can go out through the window! A whole future, Kaveh, together--!”

Kaveh is still not smiling back at you.

“I--I’ve thought of everything,” you say, falling over your words as Kaveh does not immediately fall upon your open escape route. “We can go to Inazuma, I have enough Mora, we can put as much distance between us as possible and you . . . architects are needed everywhere, we might have to sleep rough a while and I know you’re not that used to it and it might seem scary but we could get a little cottage together and a g-garden and . . .”

You tail off as Kaveh’s gaze stays trained on you, pitying, sympathetic. He should be delighted. He should be pleased. He’s looking at you the way that Alhaitham looks at him, when Kaveh gets started on one of his talks about how everyone in the world is good at their core. You have always agreed with him - mostly.

(“Present company excluded,” Kaveh had said once, waving a hand, wine glass in his grasp, at Alhaitham. You had laughed, and Alhaitham had made you bend over his knee and spanked you hard upon your rear ten times as Kaveh silently watched).

“Stay calm,” Kaveh says softly. “Step away from the window, darling. Let’s talk about this instead.”

Dawning comprehension settles about you like the hot summer air.

It seems a foolish thing not to have realised before all of this - you suppose, in Kaveh’s sweet soft smiles and cooing gentle voice and his whirlwind way of coming and going, you have never stopped to think about it. Your voice comes out dry as old paper.

“You’ve had a key the whole time.”

“I live here,” he says. “Surely you realised I’d have to let myself in and out--”

“You could have let me go any time.” Your tone is flat. Kaveh looks at you, anguished, and a thousand thoughts flit into your mind - a thousand times he could have just unlocked the door and held your hand and the two of you could have walked out of the house and you could have walked right out of Alhaitham’s grasp. Instead, he had given you fruits and trinkets like you were supposed to be grateful and taken the reward of your gratitude in hungry kisses and the press of his body upon yours--

“No, darling,” he’s trying to soothe you. “I couldn’t have - you know what Alhaitham has over me, you know that he could ruin my life - I’m just as much a prisoner as you, really--”

The earnestness in his voice could almost make you forgive him. It has, in the past - when he’s knitted his brow and said of course he can’t let you out of the cage, but he’ll make it up to you when Alhaitham lets you out. You’ve written off things like that before.

No longer. Not with the window fully open, not with escape beckoning you.

“Then leave with me,” you repeat, shaking. “Come out of the window. We’ll get out of Sumeru, we’ll go somewhere nobody even cares about the Akademiya, somewhere he won’t reach--”

The bag full of stolen Mora tied about your waist feels heavy, jingling on your hip. Your throat is dry. The robe you are permitted to wear suddenly feels all the flimsier, all the more embarrassing to be seen in, full thighs on display and the curve of your chest far too revealed.

“Don’t,” he says, softly, moving towards you. He places his hands up, palms facing you, like soothing a wild animal likely to flee. “You know that wouldn’t work. You know he’d find you.”

(You, he says. Not ‘us’.)

“Kaveh!” Dreams of that little cottage and a little life slip through your fingers like grains of sand. “Don’t-- don’t you care about me? Do you want me to die here?”

“Of course I do.” He’s closer now. Your shoulders shake, lip trembling. He reaches out for you, fingers brushing your cheek. “Of course I don’t. We take good care of you. Better care than you might have gotten, before. Have I ever hurt you?”

You want to scream. You’re hurting me now!

“Alhaitham has,” you whisper. “And you . . . you’ve never stopped him.”

You’re crying, you realise, as Kaveh’s face turns into concern and he wipes a tear away.

“I can’t,” he says, with a soft little sigh like he is the injured party. “If he threw me out . . .”

“You don’t want to leave.” You try to keep your voice flat, but it cracks on the ‘want’. You want, you want, you want - and from Kaveh’s kisses, from his murmurs and his gifts and his indulgence of ‘draw the place you wish you could be’, you had always thought that he wanted too.

“I have a reputation,” he replies, steadfast. “My architecture, my name, all of the things I worked hard on--”

He doesn’t say anything about your achievements. He’d smiled at your little drawings and said how talented you were, he’d sighed over how pretty you were and how much of an inspiration you were, looked at you with such warmth in his eyes as he’d listened to you talk about your dreams and all of those little romantic fantasies you kept cherished in your heart and had thought that, perhaps, he would understand--

But now? He says nothing. As if you do not exist outside of this prison.

He thinks himself far more important than you.

“I just want some freedom,” you whisper, your face wet, your throat dry, your body feeling pulled in all ways at once. You had never envisioned that Kaveh would be like this - in all of your daydreams, he had gone willingly with you. You chide yourself now, for your own foolish romanticism - but you cannot let go of nights spent in this house with only Kaveh for comfort. “I just want a life.”

“We take care of you,” Kaveh says in a voice that sounds like a beg. “Alhaitham’s right, you’d never have lasted alone out there--”

“I was d-doing just fine.” Tears clog up your throat like ice.

“Were you?” He asks, quietly. His hand on your face feels like a brand, as he rubs his thumb over your lip and sighs, as he pulls back with a strand of your hair twirled around his finger. “Darling. The world chews up and spits out people like us, sometimes. I just want you to be safe--”

“I’m nothing like you,” you say to him, trying to be strong and failing miserably with every tremulous syllable. “We’re nothing alike, Kaveh. I would have been out of this window the moment it was opened, if we were in one another’s shoes.”

“No,” he says, and his voice is still disgustingly tender. “No, you wouldn’t. You’d see that you’re too fragile, too romantic and too lovely and too idealistic to survive for much longer. You’d see that this is the best option for you.”

“Alhaitham says you’re an idealist,” you whisper bitterly. “A romanticist. Just like me.”

Kaveh sighs.

“This could have been you,” you continue, stubbornly, bitterly, wildly grasping for something to say that could hurt even a fraction of how your heart has shattered. “In another world, you’d be where I am, and you wouldn’t be saying those things to yourself--”

Kaveh looks at you and seems to understand a kind word will not fix this; a stroke of your hair, a hidden treat. He heaves a sigh and shakes his head, instead.

“I’m going to close the window.”

You don’t reply. You stand like a statue, silent, as Kaveh walks to the window, reaches for the frame to pull it back up into position. Your future trickles out of your fingers like sand through an hourglass. The cottage is reduced to rubble by lightning storms, the flower garden does not grow, and the blond man beside you in your dreams becomes as grasping and hungry and monstrous as any nightmare has ever been.

The door clicks open once again. A voice calls out;

“I forgot to bring anything for lunch,”

And then Alhaitham walks in.

His eyes quickly take in the scene before him - you, and Kaveh, and the window that has not yet been closed.

“You forgot to close it last night,” Kaveh says, without turning around. “She wants me to leave with her.”

“And so? What will you do now, Kaveh?” Alhaitham’s voice is clipped. The question hovers in mid-air. Kaveh lets out a huff of breath through his nose, and for one horrible, glorious moment you think he is about to break and come back to your side--

“Close the window,” Kaveh replies instead. “Lock it.”

You stare at Alhaitham - as the Scribe’s lips press together and curve, in a satisfied smile. You wonder if the shattering of your heart is an audible thing, or if it simply sounds that loud in your head. The window lock clicks with a finality that makes you want to throw up.

“Good,” he says. And then he turns his attention back to you, as Kaveh moves across the room to stand just to one side of him. Kaveh’s golden eyes are apologetic - but it is not enough. Your heart has been pulled out of you and trampled upon and there is no coming back from this - no number of peaches or soft kisses or reassurances whispered into your hair that will make you ever think of him as a reprieve.

Perhaps he’s worse. At least Alhaitham does not try and hide behind anything.

You have no friends here. Just two men who, in the end, want the same thing from you.

“You understand I’m going to have to punish you?” Alhaitham asks, and his tone is reassuring in its sharpness. “Trying to run . . . when all I’m doing is giving you the best life you could possibly get?”

“I understand,” you say, exhausted. Kaveh tilts his head to one side and puts on the face that you now know is a mask; concern and worry and pity. You see your future laid bare before you like one of Kaveh’s blueprints. The summer heat seems a visible thing once more - or perhaps that’s your own anger, coalescing, at the fact Kaveh has the nerve to look compassionate.

Later on that evening, when the welts on the back of your thighs sting and you’ve been divested of even the flimsiest garment, when Alhaitham has retired to bed with his door wide open and you curl on the thin blanket of the cage that Alhaitham only uses for the very worst infractions, you slip into fitful nightmares of keys clicking in locks and lion keychains and golden-eyed masks that only lie. The summer night is no cooler. You wake up in the early morning light, golden shafts with dust motes dancing, and you see that in the night the architect has brought you a peace offering.

A small bowl sits beside the cage. The bars are just wide enough for you to reach a hand out (how many nights, in the past, has Kaveh curled his littlest finger around yours whilst you sobbed over the indignity of it?). You could take the spoon sticking out of the bowl and bring mouthfuls of the frozen dessert to your lips, letting it soften and thaw on your tongue, savouring the refreshing coldness of the treat.

You do not.

Instead, you simply sit there, caged, and you watch it melt into liquid drop by drop by drop.

#writing #commissioned work #yandere alhaitham #yandere kaveh #yandere genshin impact #dub con cw #non con cw #yandere cw

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soberpluto · 1 year

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Astrology of Personality: Planets in 1st House

Brainstorm on the influence of planets in your 1st house!

Sun: You are outgoing, warm, gentle. People see you as bright and bubbly, a natural leader. But you can seem overly proud or arrogant at times. You are transparent and very coherent with how you present yourself to the world. What you see is what you get. You lead with example. You inspire others from your core. A lot of vitality and vigor. You are in charge of your own life. A lot of self-love and self-esteem as you grow older. You are brave, loyal and generous. Image reflects your amazing will-power and authenticity. Can have a nice and chiseled upper back and strikingly beautiful hair.

Moon: Can't hide your emotions. High intuition, even psychic abilities. Others can see the depth of your feelings, like it or not. Your presence is soothing, compassionate, kind and nurturing. Your physical may go through a lot of changes, as your body is tightly connected to your feelings. Your inner world may be overwhelming, and it can stir your life out of control. Sensitive and healing to others. May be an empath, someone who can read your surroundings and be affected by them profoundly. A very loving and feminine presence, no matter your gender. Can give large breasts (if female obviously) or a curvy or plump body type.

Mercury: Others see you as talkative, witty and interesting to be around. They consider you highly smart, a smooth communicator. May need to travel or move constantly and change continuously to feel alive. You engage life through your brains. Leadership comes from your mind. You conduct yourself through thought, logic and reason. A very curious and restless persona. You can be easily distracted, be hyperactive and eager for endless stimulation. You may be passionate about learning. Can be very popular and have a wide range of friends and acquaintances. Mercury here usually gifts high intelligence, an attractive smile and slender limbs.

Venus: A very charming and gentle personality. You are quite pleasing to be around. Physical beauty is given almost by rule. You attract others so easily. Can be way too compliant, with people-pleasing tendencies, however. Others are eager to help you or be around you. You may be very appealing to and popular with the opposite sex. Likes to draw attention through aesthetics, fashion and makeup. Your presence is very soothing and enjoyable. You may get judged on your appearance a lot. Can be subject to envies and jealousy more easily than other people. You can have a very sultry or charming voice. Your body can be that of a sex icon. Very creative and self-expressive too. Relationship oriented. Music and art will be of special importance.

Mars: Go getter. Sex is on your face. You are someone who has an inexhaustible amount of energy. Military, exercise and sports definitely will catch your attention. May be a bit of a bully too. A dominant and masculine aura. You appear as very energetic, adventurous, assertive and sometimes aggressive. You may suffer from cuts and burns. You are competitive by nature. Very vigorous health and long-lasting stamina. You engage the world through instincts and desire. Can be quite confrontational and irritable. You have a pioneer spirit and will hardly back down from fights. Super independent. Red is your best color.

Jupiter: A humorous and candid person. You are recognized by your sense of justice, ethics and high morals. Can be disorganized with or unbothered by physical appearance. You are seen as good-willed and kind. Can have issues with gaining weight. Can suffer from health ailments due to lack of limits. You hate restriction and need to expand, travel and find your own truth. You love learning and others see you as a teacher, a guru. Your vibe is altruistic and charitable. You may have really aesthetic feet, buttocks and/or legs. You love comfortable clothes. You are pulled to other cultures.

Saturn: Firm and resistant body. You are seen as serious, diplomatic and very mature. You are the adult in the room even when being a child. Maturity comes much easier to you. You are responsible and dedicated to hard work. Others may see you as detached and cold at times, even unemotional. You can be shorter than average, but with elegant facial features. Your teeth may be really attractive, which gives you a great smile. High cheekbones. You may feel life is tougher on you than on others, but with time, you succeed because of your patience and constancy. You like sober, solid and/or traditional looks.

Uranus: You are often misunderstood because you are ahead of your time. People see you as disruptive and unpredictable. You need a lot of stimulation, change and independence to feel happy. Others see you as a rebel, someone who's not afraid to speak their truth and do as they please. Very stubborn and liberal. You can strike others as a genius, a very brilliant person. However, you can also appear as unstable and unable to root. Your outfits or makeup can be really quirky, unique and eccentric. You may become bored quite easily. You may wish to live abroad or be subject to wanderlust.

Neptune: You have a gentle and spiritual presence. Psychic capacity. You absorb your environment like a sponge. You are a chameleon. Nobody actually understands you. You may feel lonely or alienated at times. Others project fantasies unto you and feel you have deceived them once they realize that's not who you are. Very empathetic and sensitive by nature. Your sixth sense is very lively. You dream for the perfect physique. It may be hard for you to have realistic expectations about yourself. You are seen as an enigma. Your aura is otherworldly and magical. People may complement your eyes a lot because they have a dreamy spark. Can have the ability to "see" things beyond the physical realm.

Pluto: A powerhouse. Super sexual. You are very threatening or magnetizing to others, even if you don't intend that. You appear as overly secretive, mysterious and intriguing. You move cautiously and don't give too much information about yourself. You are so passionate, to the point of being obsessive. You are very resilient and recover from crisis much quicker than others. Your strength and courage are your trademark. You may be subject to power struggles. You command a room with your presence. Can have scars or birth marks in the face. Others may think you are darker or more dangerous than you truly are. You discover everyone's secrets. Others want to know you but they are afraid of you. You destroy or extra-limit your body to become a new version of yourself. Addicted to physical changes or interventions. Your eyes say it all. Your gaze is powerful and heavy. Extremely resistant health.

*No single placement in astrology can determine your overall profile and life tendencies, but the first house is a good starting place to understand what you are made up, as its the house of appearance, self-image and projected personality.

Hope you liked it and thanks for reading! 🥰🪐🌟

#astrology #astrology observations #astrology community #astrology notes #birth chart #astrology signs #planets in 1st house #ascendant #1st house

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eatmangoesnekkid · 3 months

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My attention is almost always focused on and directed towards what I desire to bring into the 3D reality, whatever brings incredible levels of lubrication, expansion, liberation, discomfort, purpose, or fun, and rarely, if ever, am I focused on what I don't. I live cognitively and somatically in abundance in my thinking and feeling, and generally believe that whatever I desire is possible, no template or carved out path needed. There is not one person on Earth who I have spent significant time around that hasn't heard me moan, sing, yell, and scream. I command life through my Sounds . I decree through my voice. I energize through my deep throat (chakra). A vagus-nerve-tending life, as I call it, is a life of relaxation, deliberate creation, and play, that requires us to normalize using our sounds, to tend to our throats, to ‘will’ life in the direction we really desire through our vocals, and to deeply listen for next step instructions. I was told to connect to the water element to access sacred flow states, surrendering to the current and affirming out loud that the universe had a plan, and all I needed to do was relax at the water, pray and wave at the boats passing by. In other words, I became obedient to the universe, therefore I did not have to become exhausted and worn down because I was trying to force something to happen as learned. Instead, I allowed myself to feel safe being helped and supported by something (mostly) invisible and eternal.

My consciousness has drastically increased since publishing my first book "You Look Like Something Blooming" to crafting a new series of books, "The Melody of Love." Speaking with an upgraded consciousness required me to open up my crown through a purification process of slow deep circular breathing, eating real food mostly prepared by me, and channeling my "life energy" or sexual vitality with my heart in order to be able to receive higher messages and downloads. Through some combination of meditation, breathwork, chanting, sacred bathing, kundalini yoga, female sexual alchemy exercises, eating mostly organic, wild, or fermented foods, and/or spending quiet time alone or in nature, especially in warm sunny regions, permitted my 3rd eye to open therefore I could process the higher intelligence I was receiving without having an inflammatory response. And my throat chakra had to evolve to allow me to communicate the advanced messages I was receiving and processing in the simplest, down-to-earth fashion as possible to readers. But none of that would have been possible if feminine expression had not been grounded into my body over the years through root posterior chain work, calve work, and feet work that gave me strength and softness to be able to hold a greater capacity of energy and allow it to pulse through my body and psyche, you see. When your soul lives in a human body, this is the only true way "ascension" happens, from the bottom up. But I am also very grown AF. Not a day that goes by that I don't connect to my throat (pussy, or breasts) and feel the profound peace of the present moment. Like open my mouth and massage my back teeth and throat with coconut oil which also massages my pelvic floor and reproductive organs because the throat, pussy, and pelvis are all energetically and physically connected. What you do to one is done to all parts. Because one thing I know about women is that we live too closed. Our legs need to be open. Our breasts/hearts need to be open. Our spines need to be open. Our minds need to be open. Our hips need to be open. Our toes need to be open. Our buttocks need to be open. And of course our throats need to be open. It’s like women learn to be talk and talk all the time but we do not learn to open up our throats so that energy can properly flow into our eyes, inner eye, and brain, which means that we can finally ‘see,’ ‘feel’, ‘hear’ and interpret at the subtlest layers of reality again. The lack of real circulation is harming our bodies of their greater capacities. That's why the average woman has not touched the tip of what's possible in her body, life, and intimacies. The chronic negative thoughts have carved calcification imprints in her creative portals, made them hard and full of scar tissue. "The Melody of Love" books and school share how to dearmour the female body and unleash the raw multidimensional creative potential for every female body, the hidden, the regenerative, and the uncommon. I created my soft life (the real kind) because I learned how to live tuned in and tapped on in my body and mind, and I want to teach more women and other female-bodied people everything I know. Because when I do look out into world I see that this world needs us. More embodied women. High Priestesses. -India Ame'ye, Author

Only posted for 48 hours.....

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ekadouble · 4 months

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Here is his story / Voici son histoire : 1: Ryan était un homme sportif et son corps le montrait. Il faisait du sport tous les jours et cela depuis son adolescence. Mais un jour, après avoir gagner une grande course de marathon, il décida de fêter cela en mangeant la bouffe qu'il s'interdisait mais qu'il aimait tant, la malbouffe. Il se mit dans une tenue confortable et commença son festin. /Ryan was an athletic man and his body showed it. He was doing sports every day since he was a teenager. But one day, after winning a big marathon race, he decides to celebrate by eating the food he forbade but loved so much, junk food. He changed into comfortable clothing and began his feast.

2: Cependant, le lendemain, il se sentit quelque peu plus paresseux et décida de prendre du repos et de ne pas faire du sport ce jour-là. C'est ce qu'il continua de faire les deux semaines suivantes. Il perdit de sa masse musculaire et devint plus gras ; mais il ne s'en rendait pas compte. Il préférait se prélasser devant la télé, et critiquer les différents sportifs sur leur niveau qui était selon lui déplorable. / However, the next day he felt somewhat lazier and decided to take some rest and not exercise that day. This is what he continued to do for the next two weeks. And he became softer ; but he didn't realize his body changed. He preferred to relax in front of the TV, and criticize the various athletes on their level which was, according to him, deplorable.

3: Cela faisait cinq mois qu'il avait pris sa "pause". Et il avait continué de grossir. Il continuait à dévorer une quantité toujours plus importante de malbouffe ; il passait ses journées sur son canapé à se prélasser dans son corps désormais bien gras, à regarder la télé et à jouer à des jeux vidéos. Pour lui, sa vie était devenu paradis. Et quand le matin, il se levait et qu'il passait devant le miroir dans le couloir de sa maison ; et qu'il constatait ce ventre bien gras qui tremblait à chacun de ses pas, ces poignées d'amour, ces jambes plus potelées et ses fesses plus énormes que jamais et qui dévoilaient, avec grâce, toute leur grasse splendeur lorsqu'il s'abaissait. Il se rendit compte que tout cela était sien et il caressait alors son corps graisseux et se disait qu'il était devenu plus beau gosse que jamais. / It had been five months since he took some “rest”. And he continued to gain weight. He continued to devour an ever-increasing amount of junk food; he spent his days on his couch lounging in his now chubby body, watching TV and playing video games. For him, his life had become paradise. And when, in the morning, he got up and walked past the mirror in the hallway of his house; and that he noticed this very fat belly which trembled with each of his steps, these love handles, these legs chubbier and his buttocks more enormous than ever and which revealed all their fatty splendor when he was lowering. He realized that it was all his and he then caressed his fat body and said to himself that he had become more handsome than ever.

4: Les semaines et les mois passèrent, et il n'en finissait de s'engraisser, il dut même refaire sa garde-robes pour l'adapter à sa nouvelle grosseur. Il devenait pour lui de plus en plus pénible de se déplacer ; même changer de position sur le canapé et prendre sa sainte nourriture sur la table lui semblaient pénibles. Pourtant, il aimait tout de même cela, sentir son gras rouler et toucher les autres partir de son corps l'exciter. Il aimait par ailleurs jouer avec son ventre et ses pectoraux semblables désormais à des seins, sentir son gras se mouvoir sur lui était d'une véritable extase. Il admirait son ventre, ses poignées d'amour, ses bras et ses jambes devenir toujours plus gras alors qu'il se goinfrait. Certains soirs, il s'endormait sur son canapé, gras comme un porc et entouré d'emballages de pizzas ; le matin lorsqu'il se réveillait, son ventre débordant de ses vêtements, il ne pensait qu'à une chose, manger. Alors, il caressait son corps bien en forme, se demandant s'il voulait vraiment ; mais l'appel de la faim et du gras finissait toujours par l'emporter, et il devenait toujours plus gros. Et d'autres soirs encore, alors qu'il dormait, c'était l'appel d'une fringale nocturne qui le réveillait ; ainsi il se levait, et marcher faisant bouger son corps de toute sa grosseur vers le frigo, et il prit tout ce qu'il trouvait ; pots XXL de nutella, donuts, beignet, gâteau à la crème, caramel ou encore au chocolat rien ne lui résistait. Il devenait encore plus gros que jamais, son gras débordait de partout et ses vêtement devenaient trop serrés à nouveau. Il se sentait perdre le contrôle. / The weeks and months passed, and he continued to gain weight, he even had to redo his wardrobe to adapt it to his new size. It was becoming more and more difficult for him to move around; even changing positions on the sofa and taking his holy food from the table seemed painful to him. Yet he still loved it, feeling his fat rolling and touching others from his body excited him. He also loved playing with his stomach and his pectorals, which were now like breasts; feeling his fat moving on him was truly ecstatic. He admired his belly, his love handles, his arms and legs growing ever fatter as he stuffed himself. Some evenings, he fell asleep on his couch, as fat as a pig and surrounded by pizza wrappers; In the morning when he woke up, his stomach overflowing with his clothes, he only thought of one thing, eating. So he stroked her fit body, wondering if he really wanted to; but the call of hunger and fat always won out in the end, and he always got fatter. And still other evenings, while he was sleeping, it was the call of a nocturnal craving that woke him up; so he got up, and walked, moving his whole body towards the fridge, and he took everything he found; XXL pots of nutella, donuts, donuts, cream cake, caramel or even chocolate nothing could resist him. He was getting even bigger than ever, his fat was overflowing everywhere and his clothes were becoming too tight again. He felt himself losing control.

5: Plus de neufs mois avaient passé depuis son changement de vie. Il rigolait en pensant que son bébé ne devrait plus tarder. Thanksgiving, et le mois de décembre étaient passés et cela se remarqué sur son corps toujours plus gras. Lors des fêtes, il avait ignorer tous les commentaires désobligeants que ses proches lui eussent faites sur son nouveau physique ; il s'en contrefichait, il se sentait bien dans son corps c'était ce qui comptait le plus. Il savait qu'il pouvait avoir des complications de santé, mais il préférait s'y croire immuniser, et se concentrer sur le buffet. Maintenant, les soirs il n'allait plus se coucher dans son lit, il préfère le canapé, cela lui demandait moins d'effort. Maintenant, lorsqu'il devait se lever c'était pour aller chercher la nourriture qu'il venait de commander. Ce qu'il mangeait au début de son nouveau régime en une journée, est maintenant ce qu'il consomme en un repas, l'un de ses neuf repas de la journée. Toujours plus énorme, il sentait ses vêtements le serrer de nouveau, mais il avait la flemme d'en commander de nouveaux. Ce n'est que quand ses joggings se déchirèrent laissant apparent l'énormité de ses jambes et que ses hauts trop petits et trop moulants, laissaient visible son ventre si gras et rond qu'il rivaliserait avec la grosseur des plus gros sumos ; qu'il décida finalement à se commander de nouveaux vêtements en même que cinq gâteaux à cinq étages. / More than nine months had passed since his change of life. He laughed, thinking that his baby shouldn't be long. Thanksgiving and December had passed and it was noticeable on his ever fatter body. During the parties, he had ignored all the derogatory comments that those close to him had made to him about his new physique; he didn't care, he felt good in his body that was what mattered the most. He knew he could have health complications, but he preferred to believe he was immune to them, and concentrate on the buffet. Now, in the evenings he no longer goes to bed in his bed, he prefers the sofa, it required less effort. Now, when he had to get up it was to go get the food he had just ordered. What he ate at the start of his new diet in a day is now what he consumes in a meal, one of his nine meals a day. Ever more enormous, he felt his clothes tightening again, but he was too lazy to order new ones. It was only when his jogging pants were torn, revealing the enormity of his legs and his tops, which were too small and too tight, left visible his belly, so fat and round that it would rival the size of the largest sumo wrestlers; that he finally decided to order new clothes as well as five five-tier cakes.

6: Ryan était vraiment obèse, il ne savait s'il voulait en venir là. Tout lui semblait plus compliquer et il ne savait plus trop s'il aimait son corps qui était devenu vraiment énorme. Ce qu'il savait néanmoins, ce qu'il n'arriverait pas à faire machine arrière, il n'en aurait pas la force. Il se condamnait ainsi à devnir toujours plus gros, et à se goinfrer, mais ça il aimait se goinfrer. / Ryan was really obese, he didn't know if he wanted to come to that. Everything seemed more complicated to him and he no longer really knew if he liked his body which had become truly enormous. What he knew, however, was that he would not be able to turn back, he would not have the strength. He thus condemned himself to becoming ever fatter, and to stuffing himself, but he liked to stuff himself.

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makeyoumine69 · 2 years

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I Wanna Feel You in My Bones

◥ PAIRING: Sugar Daddy!Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

◥ SUMMARY: Patrick decided to show you how to train more effectively, but he didn't tell you that it would involve sex.

◥ WARNINGS: NSFW │porn with feelings, oral (both receiving), clothes ripping kink, vaginal sex, creampie, fingering, nipple play, body worship, teasing, heavy Daddy kink, mild degradation kink, spanking, overstimulation, dirty talk, pet names, sensual baby Patrick himself.

◥ WORDCOUNT: 2.5k

◥ A/N: I kept this in my drafts for too long! Many thanks to the amazing anon who sent me this request, and my dear @thesirenrealm for the gif set she made for me!💞 Hope you like it! *hugs*

◥ SONG REC: Tame Impala - New Person, Same Old Mistakes🔥

◥ LINKS: [Sweet like a Cupcake Masterlist] [Main Masterlist]

Your heavy breathing bounced around Bateman's fashionable living room as you tried your best to finish the damn stomach crunches he asked you to do.

"No, no, Cupcake," Patrick scolded, standing near his audio system and watching you from above. "That doesn't count!"

Huffing, you glowered at him, small droplets of sweat running down your aching abs. "W-what? Why?!"”

“You are slacking off…a lot.” Smirking, he got closer and leaned down to touch your belly.

"Well," you stammered as his cold finger caressed your skin, painting invisible lines across it. "I'm not as physically fit as you."

"That's why you need to work harder," Patrick said, pressing his palm against your stomach and licking his lips briefly as his tantalizing gaze roamed shamelessly over your tense body. "'C'mon, baby. Move!"

Desperately, you let out an exhausted whine before you obeyed and did a few more crunches, feeling your muscles tighten like a string.

"Good girl," Bateman crooned, holding your bent legs to keep you in place. "Keep going, you're almost there."

“You’re not helping!” You muffled as you seemed to reach your limit.

"Really?" A small chuckle echoed in your ears. Shaking his head, Patrick knelt beside you and lifted your hips up to smack your juicy ass. "Next time I won't hold your legs. No one helps me when I work out, you know."

You wriggled in his grip, trying to slip out, but that only encouraged him to drag you closer. And then his powerful arms were already pulling your leggings off, tickling your bare skin a bit.

"Patrick..." you gave him an innocent look, pressing a finger to your half-open lips. "I'm too tired."

Sneering, Patrick exposed your butt, squeezing it with his both hands. “You don’t need to do anything, silly. Not now.”

You gasped as his large palms were still playing with your buttocks, sending shivers down your spine. “G-God…you're incorrigible, m-mhm…”

No matter how weary you were, this man was evoking something primal inside your gut, something that could force your blood to rush in your veins, melting your body like a candle.

Possessively, Bateman cupped your heated pussy, not surprising how wet you already were. “Did watching me exercising aroused you that much, my slutty girl?”

Without resistance, he pushed your panties aside and rubbed your swollen lower lips to taste your sweet flavor.

“Ah, Daddy…” You mewled, watching him suckling off his fingers and touching his hard groin.

Trembling, you could definitely see the outline of his huge dick thanks to the tight gray pants he was wearing. With a quiet growl, Patrick pulled on your leggings way too harshly for just removing them and then, you heard a distinctive sound of ripping fabric.

"W-what are you..." before you could say that, Bateman's muscular hands were already working on tearing your underwear apart, not even paying attention to your angry protests. "Stop! That was my favorite!"

"Leggins or panties?" He laughed in a mocking way, tossing hunks of fabric to the floor and lifting your bottom.

“Both!”

"What a shame," his devilish smile was brighter than the sun, even his slightly sweaty locks couldn't hide it. “But don’t worry, Daddy will get you new ones.”

"But-" an electric shock coursed through your body as his heated mouth touched the delicate skin of your inner thigh, forcing your words to stick like a lump in your throat. "Aa-ahh, Patrick..."

Shyly, you covered your face with the palm of your hand, feeling the growing tension as he approached your mound. Panting with excitement, Patrick whispered: "Damn, I love the way you get embarrassed," he purred, leaving tiny hickeys wherever he could. "My delicate...mmm-little Cupcake."

After saying that, he greedily moved your hips closer, raising them higher and resting your legs on his broad shoulders, and then he couldn't wait any longer to bury his face between your legs as he began to eat your sleek pussy.

Right away you arched your back from the sharp spasm in your womb, his wet tongue swirling around your blushing clit so perfectly, so masterfully. And of course Bateman knew how good he was making you feel when he heard your sweet, innocent moans that made his cock twitch from how fucking hard it was.

“Pull up your top and play around with your nipples, I wanna watch,” he didn’t ask you–he insisted. “You’re shaking already, how pathetic.”

Sobbing, you did what he wanted and now you were balancing yourself on the edge of pure bliss, rolling your taut peaks between your fingers while his experienced mouth was sucking out all of your sweet juices.

"A-aww," you almost screamed as Patrick gripped your ass and lifted your lower body even higher, not letting you move and looking at you from above while lapping at your dripping cunt. “Oh, G-God…” that was certainly a big mistake, to stare at him back, as your inner walls were about to clench into a spiral from the eye contact you made. “Pat-Patrick, please…Take m-me…”

"Take you? What do you mean?" Teasingly, he tugged on your sore clit with a squelch, his chin glistening in the daylight with your slickness.

What an asshole.

“Stop pretending!” you hissed as he kept doing nothing, but waiting for your answer. “You know exactly what I mean.”

“Maybe I do…but I want you to say that,” with a sassy smirk, Bateman made one flat lick across your sensitive folds. “Cupcake, if you want I can lean over…and you will whisper it into my ear.”

Rolling your eyes, you felt him moving along your body. Oh shit, was he really serious?

“So?” He climbed on top of you before he bit your lower lip, pressing you down with his massive muscles.

“Mmhm,” you shrugged and whimpered beneath his solid frame as he brushed his hips against yours, to make sure you knew how stony his dick was. “Fuck me…D-Daddy.”

“And how do you want me to do this?” Bateman whispered near your cheek, and then he playfully licked your earlobe, coaxing all of your insides to cramp almost painfully. “Tell me more, baby…”

“Fuck me… just the way you like it, Daddy.”

“Really?” he continued to rub himself against you, grinning sparkly from how your hands were nervously tracing against the floor. “You must be really desperate…”

You exhaled noisily, when Patrick came back to his previous position, resting on his knees in front of your opened wide legs. Smoothly, he put off his sweaty white T-shirt, letting you admire his perfect torso–you couldn't take your eyes off of the small drops of sweat that were running down his small trail of hair and damn, that vein under his navel.

And of course, Patrick couldn't miss your foggy gaze which was hungrily tracing all around his firm frame. Arrogantly, he drew close to your neck to leave a noticeable wet mark on it before he kissed your mouth really hard, pushing his strong tongue inside as far as he could. Closing your eyes, you nearly choked, frantically clawing at his broad back, feeling his strong muscles tense under your touch.

Eventually, Bateman broke away from your lips to tease your hard nipple a bit, as he couldn't leave his favorite tits without his attention. Licking and sucking on your tip, he was literally tormenting your strained mind when he suddenly grabbed both of your hands and pressed them against his beefy tiddies, sliding them down over his abdomen to his pubis.

Panting sharply, you almost froze in place, glancing at him from under your lashes, but he only smiled at you as he got closer to your face, caressing it and tracing his long finger across your lips to make you know what he wanted. Taking a deep breath, you slowly pulled down his gray pants, exposing his glistening tip, and then you gave it a few kitten licks, causing his palms clenched into fists.

“Babydoll…” he groaned, nearly audible as you took his full length inside your mouth. Gritting his teeth, Patrick tilted his head down to see your plump lips latched around his thick shaft. “So needy…so slutty, ah-fuck…”

Soon, his pounding became more and more persistent, you even had to lean on his hips to slow him down a bit. But then, Bateman pulled his dick out from your mouth as suddenly as he pushed it in, leaving behind a thin trail of your saliva.

“Gosh, Patrick…” you muffled, hungerly catching the air. “You’re insane.”

“Yes, (Y/N),” he mused husky, prodding his leaking cock against your wet little hole. “I am.”

A loud, uncontrolled moan escaped your lips before you realized it as he fucked you slowly but deeply, his solid hips meeting yours in perfect synchrony; his languid breathing was all that mattered to you now, even your own gasping was nothing compared to his, especially when he towered over you, demanding in a stern tone: “Let it out, Cupcake.” Gently, Patrick placed his arms under your shoulder blades, hugging you tightly to keep you closer and never stopping to thrust into your spasming pussy.

Shuddering with every push he made, you submitted to his will, again. “Please… k-kiss me…”

Domineeringly, Bateman clasped your chin to open your lips even wider as your wet tongues slipped against each other in a sensual dance of pure lust. God, you were so close, the way he drilled into your tight inner channel was almost brutal, yet so delightful, his ferocity and almost affectionate caresses making you sink into emotions you never knew you could feel.

“Pat…Patrick…” You cried out, as you couldn't take it any longer.

“I know, dear,” growling, Patrick looked into your hazy eyes before pushing himself as deep as he could, his heavy balls hitting your ass made you almost squirm. “Mm-mhh…wrap your legs around my back…I need to feel you closer.”

His sudden words took your breath away because he sounded so sentimental and desperate - he was already fucking you so hard and it was still not enough. There was no more thinking as you hooked your hips around his loin, crossed them and then let yourself go. The next second you were cupping his firm ass and Bateman couldn't resist sneering in ecstasy, even with his messy hair he looked so perfect.

Everything about him seemed to be perfect, the way he treated your body was not an exception. Seizing the moment, when your legs only started to shake, Bateman pulled out of you abruptly and went down on you again, swiping your clit with his hot tongue.

“Aa-ahh, Daddy…Aa-www…” Your voice waved as you climaxed so intensively, you had to grab on the mat beneath your quivering body.

“Mmm…” Patrick moaned against your cunt, tightly holding your legs to prevent them from closing, his fierce mouth never stopped devouring your tender flesh.

“A-awww, f-fuck…ah!” Still trembling, you yelped with how his thin curling fingers were suddenly stimulating your G-spot, prolonging your orgasm and forcing you to gush like a fucking whore.

"Well, well, well... look who just cummed so hard," Bateman rejoined, stuffing his fingers into you to the knuckles, your sleek flavor almost floating on his Rolex, which he always wore, but he didn't care. "Jesus, are you going to flood my apartment?"

His mocking words only urged your inner muscles to clench tighter around his fingers, you thought you were going to faint as you felt yourself so light-headed and completely devastated. But yet, you managed to lean on your elbows to see him licking off his fingers and lazily stroking his soaked cock.

“What about you, Daddy?”

Patrick brushed his sweaty hair away, unable to stop a broad smile from appearing on his tense face as his wild nature craved a sweet release – it yearned for you. "Oh, you're so lovely, Cupcake," he beckoned with his finger, and you followed him as if hypnotized. "Do you want to take care of me, honey? Make Daddy feel so good?"

You nodded, barely breathing, but the tantalizing sight of his twitching cock gave you no chance as you let the longing heat in your body take over, forgetting everything, there was only you and him and your ravenous need to meld together.

Without saying a word, you allowed him to sit you on his firm knees and ring your legs around his back, and then you shrugged when he bottomed out, because you were already so worked up that it even hurt.

"Mmm, Patrick..." you huffed into his ear, keeping up the pace and riding him more deeply. "You're so b-big...Gosh...Ahhh, please...fill me with your seed!"

"Ahh, you want my cum?" He squeezed your waist, controlling your movements and helping you a little as he fucked you from below.

"A-aawhh...yes!" you bounced on his beefy shaft, desperately hugging his strong shoulders as you let him wreck you like a toy. "I want it all...till the last d-drop...p-please."

With a guttural sound, Bateman grabbed your ass, rammed deep but sloppily into you, and the next moment you felt his hot liquid pumping you from inside, painting the walls of your womb white; his fingers digging almost painfully into your soft skin as his orgasm hit him hard.

A little while later, you were both still writhing in pleasure, his strong arms wrapped around you like ropes, as if he was afraid you would disappear like a mirage. Panting, you looked down at him, pulling away his brown tresses to see his peaceful face, now so flushed from the heat. Mesmerized, you didn't even realize that you were literally admiring his perfect features, tracing a finger along his cheekbone while his eyes were tightly shut. But when he suddenly opened them, your blurry gazes met and you felt as if you had been caught doing something wrong. But was it really that wrong or was it just in your head?

"Cupcake..." Bateman let out a sharp breath before leaning in to kiss you on the lips, wiping away all thoughts, leaving nothing but the illusive sensation that this man belonged to you, completely and irrevocably.

Afterwards, Patrick pressed his forehead against yours and you were so afraid of ruining the moment that you stayed still in his embrace, listening to his rapid heartbeat.

Unfortunately, that did not last long as he got up and left you on the mat while he removed his pants completely. Huffing, you watched him stroll around his living room completely naked, and holy hell... he was still so hard. You gasped when you heard him talking with his casual, arrogant intonation:

"When you remember how to walk, join me in the shower," he said as he headed toward the bathroom, his solid hips swinging with each step. "But don't make me wait too long."

The last vestiges of his vulnerability faded with him as the sound of the door closing echoed in your ears. Still, it helped you wake up from your naive reflection on his candor.

You wished you could just stop thinking, you wished you were free, you wished you never met him.

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader

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madison--ava--jones · 5 months

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"The nameless girl spread her legs under the sheets. A policeman can watch any way he wants, he’s already overcome all the risks of the gaze. What I mean is, the drawer holds fear and photographs and men who can never be found, as well as papers. So the cop turned out the light and unzipped his fly. The girl closed her eyes when he turned her face down. She felt his pants against her buttocks and the metallic cold of the belt buckle. “There was once a word”… (Coughs)… “A word for all this”… “Now all I can say is: don’t be afraid”… Images forced up by the piston. His fingers burrowed between her cheeks and she didn’t say a thing, didn’t even sigh. He was on his side, but she still had her head buried in the sheets. His index and middle finger probed her ass, massaged her sphincter, and she opened her mouth without a sound. (I dreamed of a corridor full of people without mouths, he said, and the old man replied: don’t be afraid.) He pushed his fingers all the way in, the girl moaned and raised her haunches...The girl moaned hoarsely. The phrase “the nameless girl was lost in the metro” came to mind and he pulled his fingers out to the first joint. Then he sank them in again and with his free hand he touched the girl’s forehead. He worked his fingers in and out. As he squeezed the girl’s temples, he thought that the fingers went in and out with no adornment, no literary rhetoric to give them any other sense than a couple of thick fingers buried in the ass of a nameless girl. The words came to a stop in the middle of a metro station. There was no one there. The policeman blinked. I guess the risk of the gaze was partly overcome by the exercise of his profession. The girl was sweating profusely and moved her legs with great care. Her ass was wet and occasionally quivered."

-Roberto Bolano, Antwerp

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chubbycelebs · 1 year

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The Factory of Fatties (Part 4)

The only boy left on tour now was original fat boy Charlie. He had resisted all the temptations that the other boys had fallen victim to but still enjoyed his trip to the factory. Even though he didn't turn into huge fat blueberries or got so fat he ripped out of his clothes or turned into a fat cream making machine, his body still reflected his enjoyable day. His belly was still full from all the sweet treats he'd eaten throughout the day and his tight shirt pulled tight across his big bloated gut, threatening to reveal his belly button if he were to eat anymore. As he followed Wonka down the hallway he couldn't help but think how sad it was now that the tour was coming to an end. He loved his time here and didn't want to leave.

Wonka and Charlie got to the end of the hallway where a big grand door stood. It was a rich wooden colour with swirly engravings on it making it look quite mystical. Wonka bent down and unlocked the door and pushed it open. Inside it was like any ordinary office but was full of colour. Wonka came in and put his hat on the table and leaned on the table facing Charlie. Charlie stood facing Wonka and for the first time started to take in what he looked like. He had very strong facial features which in combination worked well together on his face. His suit was tailored perfectly for his rather slim body and his hands whilst large were strong and dominating.

"Well then Charlie. It's just me and you now. All those other boys couldn't resist their temptations and will be here working for me forever now, not that it's against their will. They all seemed very pleased to be here now." Wonka placed his hand in between his legs almost rubbing past his crotch, like the idea of those fat men made him excited. Charlie's heart began to pump faster, not due to some random exercise or panic or anxiety but rather excitement. "I suppose I should get round to you then my dear boy." Wonka stood up and walked slowly around his desk, undoing his bow and unbuttoning his shirt. "You are the winner of the tour, much to everyone's surprise I mean we can see you've got a big appetite," he pointed to Charlie's belly "and they all thought that that belly would get you in trouble." Wonka pulled off his suit jacket, followed by his shirt. This revealed Wonka's rather surprisingly strong body. He had a strong chest a defined stomach all coated in a light layer of dark hair. "But I knew that I wanted that belly. Knew it would be rather suited in my hands rather then any others." Wonka started to make his way towards Charlie now with his shoes off and him unbuckling his belt. Charlie's heart started to race. Seeing Wonka like that was so sexy and exciting. "I knew that you could be a great help to me Charlie. That gut of yours" he placed a hand on his under belly, sneaking under his tight top, "its so stimulating. Its been driving me crazy from the moment I saw you this morning." Wonka pulled his trousers down, revealing he had no underwear on this whole tour. Charlie looked down and saw Wonka's big long and very hard member stood at full attention. Wonka was coming closer to Charlie until the tip pushed against Charlie's lower belly. Wonka grabbed Charlie's shirt and pulled it off. Wonka then started to lower him self, feeling every inch of Charlie's thick middle. When Wonka got to his knees, he pulled Charlie's trousers off and his tight pink underwear. He grabbed Charlie's much smaller but very hard dick. Charlie moaned almost instantly as Wonka began to rub his cock and grab his large buttocks. Wonka stood right up again. "Bend over my desk you big boy" he demanded giving his fatty cheeks a squeeze. Charlie did as he was told instantly. Wonka walked around to the front of the desk and pulled out a cake from a drawer. He placed it in front of the fat naked boy. "You are to eat this entire cake whilst I fuck you piggy. You are to eat the whole thing, only then will I finish. Then I have another treat whilst I finish you off." Wonka walked back around the desk and placed his body right behind Charlie's. Wonka leaned against Charlies soft body and slowly inserted his thick hard cock into Charlie's chubby hole. Charlie moaned so loud before Wonka pushed his head into the chocolate cake. Wonka was slowly speeding up pounding Charlie's chubby cheeks, his whole body rippling from the motion. Charlie was eating the cake as fast as he could mouthful after mouthful he was gulping down the rich moist cake. He could feel his already stuffed belly getting fuller and fuller. What he didn't realise was that he was getting fatter and fatter. The chocolate was so thick it filled his body with fat, taking his already 220 lbs body to around 250 lbs and growing. Wonka pumped harder hearing Charlie moan and groan as he stuffed his self full of Wonkas cake. As Charlie licked the plate clean, Wonka could feel Charlie's body come to a halt with its growth. Charlie, now around 300 lbs, was jiggling all over, his belly spilled over the desk, his moobs now even bigger, drooped over the desk too. His backside had doubled in size and Wonka was taking full advantage of it. He pumped harder and harder until he couldn't hold it in anymore. Wonka exploded inside his huge partner filling him further with his sweet cum. Charlie moaned as he felt his belly push even further out.

Wonka pushed everything off his desk and pushed Charlie onto it, still recovering from the intense fucking and fattening he'd just endured. Charlie sat on the table panting when Wonka pulled out a tube from the ceiling. He pushed it into Charlie's mouth and pressed a button. "You be a good piggy and guzzle this down for me wont you. The more you drink the better this will feel." Just then a sweet thick liquid came rushing down the pipe, filling Charlie's mouth. He began to gulp it down mouthful after mouthful. Wonka got to his knees again and put his mouth around Charlie's shrinking dick. He started playing with the tip with his tongue and then sucking on it gently. Charlie moaned as the liquid filled his belly pushing it out further and further to the point he could barely see Wonka going to town his cock. Wonka worked faster and faster on Charlie's cock feeling the mounting pressure build. He could also feel Charlie's belly grow bigger and bigger pushing against his head. His thighs also grew making it harder to reach his already small dick. As Charlie took one big gulp of the liquid and his belly surged forwards, he couldn't hold it in anymore and burst into Wonka's mouth. Wonka was taken aback by the amount of sweet cum that Charlie had produced but Wonka gulped back every drop. To Wonka's confusion he felt his belly fill up too with Charlie's cum. As Wonka stood up and Charlie started coming back around, now panting, Wonka noticed that Charlie's cum had given him a bit of a belly. Nothing like the whale that was sweating on his desks belly, but a round soft starter belly had formed. He poked it and rubbed his chest too, feeling the fat below his skin. Charlie, still sweating and out of breath, noticed this change in Wonka's body too. Charlie stood up and poked Wonka's belly.

"It wont be long until you join the rest of us fatties will it chubs" Charlie teased pushing his huge gut against Wonkas soft middle. Wonka looked at Charlie with a grin on his face.

"I've been waiting for someone all these years that make me feel comfortable and relaxed. It looks like I finally found the one." Wonka pulled Charlie closer and the two made out passionately for hours. They went between feeding each other and kissing each other both expanding accordingly.

Across the factory each boy had found exactly what they needed from the factory. The first boy Sam, now at least 1000 lbs had struck a deal with a worker. For every day he stuffs him self with food that he tastes tests, the worker will fuck him hard and wank him off. He began to enjoy his bigger size now, no longer worrying about his academics, he could just eat and fuck all he wants growing bigger without a worry.

The two berry boys Matt and Will were also enjoying their blue fat bodies. They both found out that they had a crush on each other and found the other very sexy. Whilst it took some time to get used to their new juicy round bodies, they quickly began to explore each others in great detail. They would fuck suck and cum all over each others bodies. Of course they were still filled with juice so every time they fucked they would begin to expand to the 10 foot blueberry fatties they once were, but they enjoyed playing with their huge expanded bodies, juicing each other and filling each other up. These two huge fat blue love birds had a long life of blueberry sex ahead of them and they couldn't wait.

Our milky friend Henry had gotten the life of his dreams. Now producing enough cream for the factory that no other cows were required, he had made many of the workers very proud. He had found success in his life, even if it was as a massively fat hairy milky man. He was proud of his body and the workers enjoyed it too (even a few of the workers indulged in his cream making them just as fat and creaming, giving Henry some company and some others to play with).

And this leaves our winner of the factory, Charlie. He now enjoyed a life with his growing boyfriend and owner of the Factory Mr Wonka. The two, both now growing bigger by the day, enjoyed looking after the other boys and making sure the factory was up and running. They also enjoyed their alone time, filled with stuffing and eating until they both can barely move. Charlie was a big boy entering the factory but now he had accepted his life as Mr Wonkas obese boyfriend. Mr Wonka had started this tour was a slim man without love, but through this tour had learned to let go and to love Charlie. He also learned how to let go of his slim body, now resembling a fat man who had a diet of chocolate and sweets. These two fat boys would enjoy their new bigger life together in the factory, and who knows, maybe they will open their doors again for a new batch of boys to explore and expand?

This is part 4 and the final part of this story. I hope you guys enjoyed these stories, I loved writing them for you. If anyone has suggestions for other stories you would like I would love to hear them. Thank you so much for the support on these stories its been amazing I have never had so much attention from a story before.

#fat #fat belly #fat men #fatty #male weight gain #men getting fatter #cute belly #full belly #fit to fat #fatboy

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fitnessmantram · 1 year

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Exercises to Tone Hips and Buttocks || Best Exercise For Curvy Hips and ...

#youtube #exercises to tone hips and buttocks #how to tone hips and buttocks #exercises to tone hips thighs and bum #exercises to tone hips #workout to tone hips thighs and buttocks #exercises for hips buttocks and thighs #exercise to tone your thighs and buttocks #exercise to tone buttocks and thighs #how to tone bum and thighs #tone leg and bum exercises #exercises for bum and thighs #exercise for hips bums and thighs #exercises to tone thighs and buttocks #exercises to tone buttocks and thighs

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johnbrand · 14 hours

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Do You Want to Pump, Bro?

It was a simple question, one that should have been sufficed by a simple “yes” or “no” response. And yet Dylan had no idea how to respond. He had just been opening up Snapchat for the simple maneuvers: run through all the pictures, spam his responses back. The habit took a max of 30 seconds and then he was done for the day, but when he landed on his friend’s snap, prompting the question at hand, Dylan had no response.

It was strange how captivating the picture was. It was still displayed on Dylan’s phone, the picture of his friend all jocked up. Dylan could have sworn his friend had been a gay little nerd just like himself, nothing but a runt that the rest of their colleagues could pick on. But the boy, no, man Snapchat had presented him with was certainly his friend. The brutally masculine, dominating alpha Dylan had known all his life. There was no filter, no added touches, Dylan’s friend was simply the epitome of young manhood. Tanned, muscular, and rightfully superior.

This left Dylan to begin considering what his friend had meant by the question. Maybe his friend was referring to working out, using “pump” in the sense of stretching and exercising one’s muscles. But what did Dylan have to pump? With his scrawny features he was certainly better fit for intellectual over manual labor. His hands were meant to be glued to the keyboard, their features perfect for typing.

Well, not perfect. Dylan’s hands could be a bit clumsy. Being that they were so big, so meaty, his sausage fingers often had a hard time hitting the right keys. It did not help that his arms would often get in the way, so bulky that they would rub up against anything they touched. His sides, other people, Dylan even struggled to get through older doorways. Veiny forearms leading into bulging biceps and triceps, which only expanded his shoulders to accommodate. Dylan was just a wider guy.

And it was not only the fault of Dylan’s arms, to be clear. His torso too was quite the menace. That previously mentioned wide set of shoulders stretched out Dylan’s entire upper chest, structuring a powerful collarbone to perfectly align two plump pectorals. Yes, those were perfect. So firm and pronounced that they sometimes obstructed Dylan’s view if he looked down, which being 6’6 was a considerably long distance. “Perfect” was often also used to describe Dylan’s abdominals, the eight cobblestones stacked sharply beside each other as if they were metal batteries fueling his core.

So what was his friend referring to? Something about the question was catching Dylan’s eye. The swirls within the letters of the font were soothing, absorbing. Maybe his legs? Although Dylan had to admit they were already pretty jacked. Yeah, his quads were carved, his muscles expertly sharp and prominent and never covered by any shorts longer than five inches. Leading past his knees into diamond-shaped calves, admired by other gym-goers constantly. Not only was he tall, but Dylan was built. He had worked hard since high school to prevent his massive legs from becoming stick-like.

Sure, sometimes he had prioritized getting in a sick workout over anything else, like spending time with the bros or in class, but it had worked out in the end. Without that extra effort, Dylan would not have been able to brag about his entire figure. From the giant-sized feet to the perfect lantern jaw. There it was again, that word, perfect. Dylan smirked to himself as he mentally listed other things about him that were perfect. His perfectly musky pits, his perfectly sultry baritone. People loved Dylan’s perfectly sculpted locks, and his perfectly sculpted buttocks. And the lucky ones got to love his perfect giant balls and cock.

Dylan felt his mighty python grow hard at that idea. Yeah, maybe that was what his bro was referring to. Maybe his bro wanted to pump his cock. But with that thought, Dylan’s boner faltered. No, his bro wanted to find some chicks to pump their cocks. Nothing gay or anything, just two bros getting laid together. Dylan’s cocky sneer grew wider as he began to palm himself. Yeah, his babymaker could use some attention. But, to be fair, it could always use some attention. Especially from some busty, airheaded bimbos.

Finally closing the picture from his bro, Dylan adjusted himself and casually flexed before snapping his reply shot. His massive fingers typed out the question on their own, filling out the preordered prompt before pressing the send button. Dylan did not realize though that instead of just replying to his bro, he had sent it to all his Snapchat contacts. But he did not care, he had better things to worry about. Like pumping his muscles, and getting some babes to pump his cock.

#gay to straight #male tf #male transformation #dumbification #jock tf #breeder tf #fratification

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thebawdybaldurian · 8 months

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TavHalStarion Drabbles: The Pregnancy Announcement

More drabbles from my four days without heat or power. As always, these will get incorporated into Tale of the Tadpoles at some point. Several others have already been posted.

Quick Background: Tav (Clataedre to Halsin) and Astarion were planning to be child-free when fate and Tav's bad executive function decided to intervene. They've sent a bird to Halsin, telling him they need to talk urgently.

Content: Allusion to abortion, Oral sex, face sitting, anal sex, PIV sex, cum talk, pregnancy kink stuff.

Halsin arrived at mid-afternoon two days later, as Tav was napping on one of the couches, a plate of chicken bones resting on her chest. “Clataedre? Astarion? I came as soon as I could,” the druid called into the cottage after he’d unlocked the front door. Tav woke up groggily from her deep trance, now needing several per day. “Halsin!” Tav smiled sleepily at him, climbing off the couch slowly.

“My heart,” he strode over quickly and embraced her with a deep kiss. “What is the emergency?”

“Halsin!” Astarion called from the loft, beginning to come down the ladder. He’d been reading a book on proper pregnancy nutrition and exercises by the fire. Halsin kept one arm around Tav and embraced Astarion with the other when he’d come down.

“Let’s sit,” Tav let out a deep sigh, pulling them both towards the couch she’d been napping on. She moved the plate from her mid-day snack to the side table and sat down with her lovers on either side of her. “So, I might as well just say it simply. I am pregnant,” Tav looked at Halsin, who had barely taken his eyes from her. Something had changed about her and he’d been trying to figure out what before she’d blurted out the news.

It was as much of a shock to him as it had been to the couple, days earlier. He’d been alive for more than 300 years and had never managed to impregnate one of his lovers. It was an uncommon occurrence among elves and despite his generous amount of love making, had consigned himself to be the last of his line. “You…think I am the father?” He asked tentatively, unsure if vampire spawn could sire children. “What of your tincture?” He knew her thoughts on having children and that she took something to prevent pregnancy entirely.

“It seems in last month’s chaos, I forgot to take my last bottle and then you came to town and…” she blushed, already feeling a bit amorous from his presence and her hormones. “We spent all those days in bed together.”

“I remember it fondly,” he smiled, looking her over with his own hunger. She was as beautiful as ever, a little more luster to her skin, a little more musk to her scent, and a slightly swollen bosom. He was ready to put more of his seed inside her, but had one question to ask her. “Do…do you intend to keep it?” He asked quietly. He would never expect her to carry an unwanted child just for his sake, no matter how rare the chance.

“That’s why we called you here,” Tav squeezed Astarion’s hand. “You know neither of us wants to raise a child…but do you…would you?”

“Of course I would. I would love it with all my heart,” he squeezed her other hand. “You would…carry it and then…”

“The child would be all yours to raise how you wished.”

“You’re sure?” He asked her again, unable to hide the smile from his face. She’d had a few doubts about it, but his smile had erased those.

“I’m sure,” she squeezed his hand back in reassurance.

“Oh praise the Oak Father on this day,” his voice changed an octave from joy. He got up, pulling her with him and hugged her tightly, lifting her off her feet. He laughed happily, swinging her legs slightly as he gripped her buttocks. She giggled a little as he swung her around. “I have never been more in love with you,” he looked down at her, his face beaming. He kissed her deeply, his cock already beginning to stir for her.

Astarion sat smiling on the couch, happy to see his lover so joyful, but still wondering if it might be his child. It would not make a difference in their decisions, but the thought still lingered. Halsin’s attention to the pair returned and he set her down gently. “Astarion, I…was this a joint decision? I would not lay claim on the child if…”

“Yes, we both discussed this and decided it was the best option. We are married, but you still have a piece of her heart. Both of our hearts,” he smiled and got up, pressing his body against Tav’s. He nuzzled her neck, reaching his hands up to caress the Druid’s skin. It seemed the sympathy symptoms that he was sharing with Tav included her libido.

“Should we spend another few days in bed?” Tav purred, teasing her ass against Astarion’s cock, having already felt Halsin’s excitement. “Before I get too round?”

“Mmmm,” Halsin grinned. “I’ll be checking your belly everyday, anticipating the changes,” he kissed her again, pulling them both towards the hallway.

“You’re going to be staying the entire time?” She asked, following him and pulling Astarion with her.

“If neither of you mind. I want to be here to support you for the duration.”

“The bed is certainly big enough,” Astarion grinned.

They made their way to the aforementioned bed, carefully undressing each other. Halsin kissed every inch of her body, noticing every subtle change. “Your breasts are already getting fuller,” he put one between his teeth, sucking gently on her nipple.

“Her ass too,” Astarion purred, his mouth currently exploring it.

“Oh you two,” she moaned, one of her hands on each of them. “Are you going to compare notes on how my body has changed already?” She joked.

“You’ve got to taste her too,” Astarion took a tongue full of her. “She’s even sweeter.”

Halsin made a pleased growl in his throat, letting his mouth move down, joining Astarion on his knees. He parted her legs a little more, sampling her and meeting tongues with Astarion between her legs. They kissed for a moment before returning their attentions to Tav. Halsin stood up again, pulling them towards the bed. “Would you sit on my face for a moment?” He asked, lying across the bed. “I need to drink every drop of your honey.”

She happily complied, climbing onto the bed and mounting his face backwards so she could also attend to her husband. Astarion straddled Halsin’s thighs, their cocks bouncing slightly against one another. He let his hand slide along both, leaning forward to kiss Tav. He reached up for her sex, rubbing her clit and coating his fingers as Halsin licked her vigorously. He spread the slick fluid along both their cocks as Halsin reached up to attend to her pearl now. “Do you want my cock or my ass?” Halsin quivered as Astarion rubbed their lengths together, sliding along with her honey. Astarion was frequently on the receiving end, but had begun to explore being on top.

“What do you think, love?” He asked Tav, kissing her again.

“Mmm, tough choice,” she grinned, her tongue teasing his lips. “I want you both all over me. How about you fuck his cock until he comes all over me and then I fuck yours until you do?”

“My little cum slut,” he grinned, letting one of his hands move to his asshole, warming himself up with his fingers before tackling the thick Druid.

“That’s how this all started,” She purred, extending her hand down after circling it around her wet clit, joining with Astarion’s hand as they stroked both cocks together. She loved taking their seed in her and on her, relishing their fluids of satisfaction anywhere on her body.

Astarion mounted Halsin’s cock when he’d been properly warmed, both men letting out a quiet groan as Astarion eased him into his asshole. “He feels so good, doesn’t he?” Tav moaned, Halsin’s tongue nearly putting her at climax already.

“He does,” Astarion smiled, moving atop Halsin’s cock as she took full control of his, stroking him gently.

“I love you both, so much…fuck…” Tav cried, grinding her cunt on Halsin’s face as she came, the Druid gripping her legs tightly, while also enjoying the tightness of Astarion’s asshole.

“I love you both as well,” Halsin breathed heavy as she moved off his face, lifting her hips up so she could kiss Astarion deeper. “Thank you for sharing this with me, all of it…Oh Gods. Don’t stop Astarion,” he begged, ready to come in his ass.

Astarion grunted, his cock vibrating in between his and Tav’s hands. “I love you both…I need you both,” he looked at Tav, desperate for her cunt.

“Fuck her on top of me,” Halsin moaned. “I want both your weights on me.”

She shuffled down Halsin’s frame, moving supine to lay against the Druid, as Astarion leaned forward to fuck her. She pressed her hips up towards him and he pressed down on her, guiding his cock into her as Halsin’s slid out of his ass a little. Halsin bear hugged them both as they became fully joined to one another, moving in a wondrous rhythm. They didn’t need to communicate anymore, their joined bodies and minds did the rest. Halsin came in Astarion’s ass with one last thrust, his seed dripping down as his cock slipped out. Astarion pressed harder onto them both, ready to spill his own seed inside her. They gasped and groaned together, the high elves sharing their climax atop the already satisfied wood elf. They lay stacked atop one another, their breaths rising and falling in a cascade up and down their bodies. Theirs was a perfect union of three souls, so attuned and so loved by one another. They rolled together onto their sides so Halsin didn’t have to bear all of the weight anymore, not that he minded. “Gods, that was amazing,” Tav sighed happily, already in need of another nap, nestled between the two men. “If I wasn’t pregnant before, I surely would be now.”

They all chuckled a little, as Halsin opened his eyes and stroked Tav’s belly and Astarion’s scalp with each of his hands. “Regardless of who the father is, whether we ever know for sure, it will make no difference to me. I will love all three of you for the rest of my days. Unless we might hope for twins,” he nestled against Tav as Astarion smiled back at him.

“Absolutely not,” Tav huffed, adjusting herself between the two men.

They both dozed as Tav went into another deep trance, the two men both waking before she did. Halsin got up first, his joy returning after being tempered by his lust. He covered the pair with a thick blanket and got dressed. He threw away Tav’s plate of chicken bones and tidied up a bit while he looked for a scrap of paper to leave them a note. He wanted to visit the markets before they closed. He’d just begun scribbling a note when Astarion strode into the kitchen nude, going straight for the icebox. “Hungry, dear?” Halsin asked as Astarion looked through it.

“I should have something in here to drink,” he replied as he moved bottles aside. Tav’s new craving had been bone broth and there were bottles from several different species that she’d prepared a few days ago.

“I know Clataedre feeds you quite frequently, but she will obviously need to keep her strength up. I would be more than happy to offer myself as a substitute,” he kissed Astarion on the shoulder, shutting the icebox door for him. “Come here.”

He pulled Astarion towards the couch, since he wouldn’t be able to reach his neck otherwise. “You’re sure?” Astarion smiled. The Druid had never offered before, which he’d never minded since Tav was always there with open thighs.

“I’m sure I am much less flavorful than our beautiful rose, but…” he pulled Astarion into his lap. They kissed, exploring each other’s mouths with their tongues, before Astarion’s mouth drifted down his neck. Astarion hadn’t fed on anyone other than Tav since before the Netherbrain. The few times he’d tried, he’d hated it. There was something too intimate about it to do with strangers. He’d drink donated blood when they could get it, but never directly from the body. He nuzzled against Halsin’s neck, as he did with Tav, before taking a tentative bite.

There was a similar richness to Tav’s, though the druid’s was sharper, almost woody. It was also slightly warmer, filling him with heat and vigor. His cock began to stir as the heat filled him, making him want more. He pulled away before it became too overwhelming. “Sorry,” he apologized, his rock hard cock pressing into Halsin’s stomach. “It happens with Tav a lot too. I get too…excited.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Halsin grinned, gripping Astarion’s ass so his cock pressed even harder against him. “Now I can suck you in return.” He kissed Astarion again, tasting a hint of his own blood on his tongue. Astarion climbed off his lap, his cock wobbling happily. Whatever animal lust inhabited the Druid’s blood was in him now. Halsin leaned forward, engulfing him instantly and fully in his mouth. “Fuck,” Astarion moaned. “I forget how much bigger your mouth is.”

“I lack Clataedre’s perfect rhythm however,” Halsin teased his tongue around the head, a generous trail of pre-cum on it.

“She’s amazing at sucking cock,” Astarion smiled happily as his cock was again engulfed in Halsin’s mouth and throat.

Halsin hummed in agreement. Both men enjoyed giving and receiving, with great skill, but Tav was an expert at it. It was like a song to her, that finished them off in three minutes or less. Still, Astarion found great pleasure in Halsin’s mouth, his wide tongue tickling his shaft as he slid in and out. He came quickly in a long trail of cum down Halsin’s throat. “Thank you,” Astarion gasped, pulling out of his mouth. “For both.”

“I missed you both a great deal,” Halsin leaned back on the couch with a smile. “I was already hoping to visit soon when the bird arrived. I’m greatly looking forward to these next few months.”

“I think we all are,” Astarion smiled. “Well, maybe not Tav. She’s been getting randomly sick in between her rabid snacking. Though I have too,” he patted his stomach, wondering if he might keep down some of her bone broth. He was still having his random cravings for food as well.

“Sympathy pregnancy,” Halsin smiled. “I have heard of this.”

“Really?” Astarion mused as he went to the fridge, pulling out the bottle of beef bone broth. He lit the wood stove and poured the rest of the bottle into a pot, guessing Tav would be hungry when she awoke.

“Your bond is strong enough,” Halsin got off the couch, his trip to the market only slightly delayed. “I was just planning to go to the market to grab a few things Clataedre should be eating, but is there anything particular she or you have been craving?”

“Anything that she is,” Astarion smiled. “I just get to taste it and spit it out, unless I want to retch with her.”

“I’ll see about some ginger or something to settle her stomach,” he gave Astarion one kiss before heading out.

Tav woke shortly after, wandering to the kitchen in a robe. “Do I smell beef?” She smiled happily, patting her stomach.

“Heating up some of your broth for you, and I might have a taste as well,” he kissed her.

“Hmm blood too?” She could taste the lingering essence of it on his tongue.

“Halsin fed me before he slipped out to the market.”

“Oh?” she smiled, knowing Astarion had always been curious about how the druid tasted, but never wanting to ask directly. “How was it?”

“Woody,” Astarion grinned. “In more ways than one.”

“Oh…” she grinned, looking down at his bare cock. “I thought only my blood made you hard.”

“His has made me…beastly,” Astarion smiled, already full of lust against. He pushed her up against the counter, pulling her robe open. He sunk down on his knees, licking her once again.

“Oh Gods,” she moaned, taking a handful of his curls. “Is this going to be one of those ten orgasm days?”

“Should we try for twenty?” He looked up at her with a devilish grin, teasing his tongue along her clit.

#astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #daddy astarion #daddy halsin #tav x astarion x halsin

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