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pin-k-ink · 1 month

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hunt // miya osamu & miya atsumu

tw ⇢ dub-con, dom/sub themes, the twins are third years, threesome, mild violence, power imbalance, degradation/name calling, spit roasting, coercion, unprotected sex, objectification, throat bulge, face fucking, asphyxiation, daddy kink, fauxcest(?), spanking

wc ⇢ 6.4k

The first pale brushstrokes of dawn were just beginning to tint the horizon outside the high windows of the gymnasium when you arrived. The cavernous space was cloaked in deep indigo shadows, the air holding that crisp, still silence that always precedes the break of a new day.

You exhaled a wispy plume that dissipated rapidly as you moved across the hardwood court, footfalls echoing in the emptiness. Despite the early hour, a current of restless energy thrummed through your limbs, propelled by a mixture of pre-practice excitement and anticipation for the upcoming day's regimen.

Depositing your gym bag by the benches, you straightened and began your ritual of scanning the space - mentally mapping out adjustments to equipment positioning and other preparations for when the rest of the team began trickling in. Temporarily losing yourself in those pragmatic thoughts, you startled violently when a pair of strong arms materialized from behind to engulf your waist in an inescapably snug embrace.

"Mornin', beautiful," Atsumu's unmistakable timbre purred against the sensitive whorls of your ear with just the barest ghosting rasp of his lips. "You're here bright and early as always, I see."

You stiffened instinctively at the sudden intimate contact, pulse kicking up several rungs as his masculine warmth and clean, musky scent enveloped you. But the rigid tension swiftly transmuted into a full-body shiver that had your bones turning to blessed friction as Atsumu tugged your back flush against the solid wall of his chest and abdomen.

"A-Atsumu!" You managed in a higher register edged with uncertainty, head spinning slightly from the sheer overwhelming physicality of him pressing in on all sides. "You startled me. I didn't hear you coming."

His low chuckle vibrated straight through to your core in delicious reverberations, stirring something molten and unfurling in your depths despite your best efforts to tamp it down. Every instinct screamed at you to put space between your bodies for propriety's sake. Yet you remained rooted, unresisting, as he dipped his aristocratic nose to the juncture of your neck and shoulder on an indulgent inhale.

"Mmm, and I like the way you say my name," he rumbled in a tone somehow darker and more possessive than his usual playful candor. "All breathy and needy already...makes me wonder what other sweet sounds I could coax out of those pretty lips with just a bit of effort."

Heat blossomed beneath your skin at the suggestive undercurrent laced through his words. You parted your lips to offer protestation, but the syllables shriveled up stillborn as a new figure slowly materialized from the encroaching shadows in your peripheral vision.

Osamu prowled from the deeper recesses of the gym, broad shoulders set in a prowling line and every measured footfall reeking of tremendous coiled power barely restrained. His quicksilver gaze flickered over every inch of you with hypnotic, ineffable intensity —as if he could see straight through the thin barrier of your clothing to map every swell and plane hidden beneath. A wicked curve tugged at the corner of his sinful mouth as he lazily closed the remaining distance.

"Looks like somebody's keen on starting the day's...activities...a little early. And without me, for that matter." He tutted in a low rumble thrumming with dark undercurrents of untapped promise. "That's hardly fair to leave your favorite out in the cold like that now, is it, 'Tsumu?"

Atsumu issued a scoffing sound of feigned indignation. "Maybe if ya got your lazy ass outta bed at a decent hour once in a while..." But there was an edge of smoldering hunger flickering behind his dilated stare that stole the casual bite from his retort.

Osamu paid him no mind, attention rapidly narrowing down to your flushed, discomfited form instead. You swallowed hard as he crossed those final few agonizing paces to loom over you—near enough that the woodsy, petrichor-tinged musk of his skin set your senses reeling in visceral recognition. He radiated such intense, alpha virility in casual, unconscious waves that your instincts flailed between contradictory urges of fight-or-flight and something more primal, less defined.

Then he raised one large palm in a disarmingly tender gesture, tracing the whorled curves of your hair before tucking an errant strand behind your ear with exquisite tenderness. The calloused pads of his fingertips grazed your feverish cheek in the process, catalyzing a shuddering exhalation as fresh tingles ricocheted outwards from the point of contact.

"Well? Don't we at least get a good mornin' in return, gorgeous?" Osamu rumbled in dark, honeyed prompting raspy from the depths of his broad chest.

You swallowed convulsively, mouth suddenly bone dry despite the slick sheen of perspiration beading across your upper lip. Up close, you saw his pupils were blown wide, ringed in quicksilver shards of gunmetal and liquid mercury. That inscrutable yet smoldering perusal felt like physical gravity weighing you down into aching quiescence.

"G-Good morning, Osamu," you somehow managed in a reedy tone edging towards breathy submission. The hand not currently imprisoned against Atsumu's sculpted abdomen drifted upwards as if beyond your own volition until your fingers encountered the rugged jut of Osamu's stubbled jawline.

A muscle ticked in that sharply defined line of tendon and masculine ridges as he fought back a wolfish grin that would have revealed too much. Osamu exhaled a slow, measured breath, the barest perceptible shiver cascading down his powerfully corded frame. Then, just when you thought his mercurial focus would utterly unravel you into deconstructed fragments, his thumb traced the ripe-plum arc of your parted lips with devastating precision.

"Such a good girl," he husked in liquid smoke tones dripping darkly sensual implications. "So unfailingly polite, even under...duress. Tell me, darlin'...how much of that pretty manners would it take to make you come undone into a hot little mess for us?"

You could only gape at Osamu in stunned disbelief, mind struggling to process the blatant indecency threaded through his graveled words. A confused furrow etched your brow as you floundered for some semblance of rational grounding against the surging tides of unfurling yearning uncorking in your core.

"W-What do you mean?" The stammered rejoinder emerged in a tone just north of a strangled whisper—half plea and half entreaty for lucidity.

Rather than grant elaboration, Osamu's lush mouth only curved higher at the corners in a sinful facsimile of reassurance thoroughly undermined by the intensity blazing behind his frittered silver stare.

"Don't worry that gorgeous head of yours over the details, pretty girl." Atsumu's smoky rasp materialized against the wild flutter of your pulse point, every consonant seeming to skim callused fingertips of heated friction down your hyper-sensitized skin. The arm still anchoring you immobile against him constricted incrementally tighter. "We're just teasin' you a bit, that's all."

Despite the nonchalance professed in his words, the underlying message carried the unmistakable weight of something darker...heavier with unspoken promises sewn into the subvocal vibrations thrumming through your intertwined bodies where you pressed flush back-to-front.

The intimate knowledge that the twins encircling you could surely detect each minute shiver and microexpression telegraphing the muted shockwaves coruscating through your undefended form sent a fresh cyclone of mortified heat spiraling beneath your skin. You tried in vain to extricate yourself, twisting weakly against Atsumu's immovable restraint even as Osamu shifted to cage you further—one calloused palm settling at your hip to imprison you between their overheated, devastating proximities.

"What's your rush, babygirl?" The tendril of dark velvet snaked from Osamu's tongue to tangle insidiously against your senses. "Practice doesn't officially start for a little while yet. We've got plenty of time to get...acquainted first."

You registered the steady thrum of your pulse kicking up several staccato notches, senses rendered hyper-lucid from the neuropathic datastream of details flooding your frenzied awareness. The damp sweeping graze of Osamu's thumb inscribing needful arcs against the jut of your hipbone through the thin practice skirt's fabric. The branded heat scorching from Atsumu's palms where they anchored your ribs and solar plexus in an inexorable arc of possession from behind. The mingling, intoxicating musk of their purely masculine essences cloying the air you struggled to inhale in shallow, panicked sips.

"I...I should go set up the equipment," you managed in a withering tone edged with desperation as every instinct screamed at you to flee this rapidly overheating situation. "The rest of the team will be arriving any minute and—"

"Shhh, shhh." Atsumu clicked his tongue, somehow both languid and laced with authority in the subtlest undercurrent. "Always so focused on responsbilities, ain't ya, sweetheart? That's one of my favorite things about ya."

You felt your breath hitch despite your best efforts at control, spine stiffening infinitesimally as those final two syllables ricocheted around your rattled psyche with the resonance of an implosion detonating at your core. If Atsumu sensed your fracture, he allowed no outward indication beyond the barest constriction at the corners of his hooded cognac stare.

"One of the many things, that is..." Osamu's sibilant murmur filled the ringing void of suspension as he reclaimed your scattered focus once more. He continued studying you with a raptor's immutability, the cryptic leather-and-whiskey of his irises glittering like thunderclouds roiling with unreleased potential.

A hollow, pregnant pause stretched in the intimate keeper charged between the three of you. The hair prickling along your nape felt electrified as if by static cling. Realization began to slowly, ponderously blossom that some irrevocable line had been crossed beyond innocuous flirtatious norms into newer, more fraught territory.

Then, as abruptly as the suspended tension reached fever pitch, the twins eased back in an unhurried dilation of space around you once more. You instinctively swayed, robbed of the immovable anchors of their presences. Your lungs attempted to greedily gulp replenishing oxygen as though they had been deprived during your interment in their encompassing sphere.

"Well go on and handle your setup then, sweetheart," Atsumu purred, edged in indolent nonchalance yet subtly underscored with that same thrumming promise. The tip of his tongue flicked out to trace the pout of his lower lip ever so briefly, heated regard never wavering from your thunderstruck features. "We'll just be over here enjoying the view and biding our time."

A rasping, slightly garbled sound of confirmation attempted to spill from your constricted vocal cords, but all that emerged was a submissive whine slipping unbidden past your defenses before you could abort it. Heat blossomed in a scorching flare across your cheekbones and down your throat at the betraying display of responsiveness despite your internal lassitude.

That seemed to be all the twin's predatory instincts required to ignite their searing focus anew in that fleeting moment. When you finally managed to process putting one rubbery foot in front of the other towards the storage lockers, you could feel their piercing scrutiny track every faltering step in your wake like dual pinpoint lasers of atomic intensity.

Within the safety of the equipment room only partially shielded from their view, you finally managed to draw a full, steadying lungful of air purged of their singularly overwhelming masculine presence. You braced yourself against the cool metal of the lockers, squeezed your eyes shut, and fought to regain equilibrium through sheer stubborn force of will.

But that polished, rich baritone continued echoing through your synapses in an inescapable resounding loop:

"We'll be seein' ya real soon..."

The cool evening breeze carried the faint tang of honeysuckle and freshly turned earth as you walked between the twins, their solid forms engulfing you on either side. Atsumu's arm remained looped possessively around your shoulders, the sculpted muscles of his bicep brushing againstyour arm with each unhurried stride in a heated line of contact.

Osamu's palm scorched the small of your back through the thin cotton of your uniform, long fingers splaying wide in an unmistakable claim of possession. You could feel the thrumming warmth of his body resonating against you with each rolling step in time with your shared gait.

Despite the innocuous setting of darkening twilight shadows stretching long across the sleepy neighborhood streets, the very air surrounding the three of you seemed to subtly intensify and charge with pulsating tension. An intangible aura settled like an electrified static cling, catalyzing each tiny hair along your forearms and nape to prickle into alertness.

The twins' earlier behavior at the gym had already stoked banked embers of confusion and unwitting arousal flickering through your depths into smoldering life. But with every casual brush of their forms against yours, each lingering graze of fingertips and weighted look exchanged over your head, those embers swiftly blazed hotter and brighter.

You shifted unconsciously, trying to alleviate the tension rapidly transmuting into a liquid, unfurling ache low in your belly. But any subtle attempt at increasing the infinitesimal space between your bodies was swiftly negated by Osamu's broad palm applying a deeper furrow of pressure against your spine. His actions were accompanied by a low, subvocal rumble of dark amusement that seemed to reverberate straight through to your core and set fresh ripples of contradiction shivering through you.

They were penning you in, separating you from any sense of personal space or autonomy by sheer inexorable degree—and somehow, you lacked the wherewithal to mount any objections beyond feeble token protests.

It wasn't until the trio of you had fully diverged from the main street onto a narrow side path cutting through a small copse of towering oaks that you found your voice again, throatiness undermining what pitiful scraps of composure you might've mastered.

"T-This isn't the way to my place..." The words emerged reedy and plaintive, drenched in naked bewilderment as you craned your neck to better take in your shadowed surroundings.

Tree boughs nudged by the lazy breeze creaked in spectral oscillations, filtering the winking corona of evening's first stars into ethereal dappling across the loamy footpath. A beat-up wrought iron gate practically consumed by clutching alabaster tendrils of resilient ivy stood askew just a few yards ahead marking what looked to be the entrance to...

"A park? But I thought you were taking me home," you pressed in rising confusion and...something darker, more viscous that you couldn't quite put a name to.

The weight of Atsumu's arm tightened infinitesimally with an implied air of coalescent possession. When he angled his head towards you, lips brushing the fragile whorls of your ear with lush friction, his deep baritone seemed to bottomlessly resonate with dark carnal promise.

"We are takin' you home, sweetheart... just a scenic slow-spin 'fore arrivin' at the final destination, that's all."

His lush mouth brushed the whorl of your ear in a sensual ellipsis contrasted by the rapacious weight of his words in a way that had you swaying dizzily on your feet. The bone-deep confusion stratified even as it transmuted into a molten unfurling low in your core that had nothing whatsoever to do with innocence.

"Seems our dear bunny could use a crash refresher in what exactly 'home' means for her pretty lil' self from now on," Osamu rumbled from your opposite side with dark promise.

His index finger traced a scorching path along the deliciously oversensitive topography of your nape, raising pearls of shivering friction before splaying wide to engulf the line of your throat with devastating possession. You couldn't restrain the tremulous whimper spilling past your lips as his palm constricted incrementally, effectively pinning you between two raging long smoldering bonfires.

The shrouded emerald of Osamu's regard trapped yours in an immobilizing tractor beam of simmering intensity barely leashed by restraint's fraying threads.

"So responsive already," he husked with a gravel-rough edge in his timber's darker registers that portended unspeakable profanities.

You sensed Atsumu's chin dipping in a subtle crowing nod despite being unable to break away from his twin's hypnotic scrutiny. Then both of them were crowding your personal space with covetous slow burning hunger radiating off them in palpable thermal waves catalyzing each atom of your loaded stillness into a bristling crest of profound awareness.

"Time to take our sweet lil' homemaker on a field trip," Osamu's parting grin delivered in a slantwise murmur reeked of unholy benediction as the twins began towing you along once more in their combined wake.

The twins didn't so much walk you further into the secluded park as simply propel you along in their combined wake, your sense of personal autonomy steadily dissolving like mist burning off beneath dawn's first blazing incursions.

You moved in a haze of prickling contradiction—every instinct screaming at you to resist being led so deeply astray, juxtaposed with those cloying tendrils of primal submission unfurling through your marrow at each scorching point of contact. It was as if their overwhelming presences exerted their own gravitational fields of influence that overrode independence of thought or mobility.

The rough gravel path crunched beneath your stumbling footfalls, interrupted only by occasional drafts of humid night wind gusting through the shadowed tree canopies overhead. Silhouettes of twisted oaks and looming hedgerows took on increasingly abstracted, dreamlike contours the further you ventured from the park's fringe dwellings.

At some point, Osamu relieved his twin of stewarding your docile form—his larger palm mapping intricate spirals along the dips and flares of your waist and hip through cotton layers in a blatant seal of ownership. Meanwhile, Atsumu assumed point, leading your small procession past a seemingly endless succession of looming oak sentinels and into near-total immersion within night's clutching vestry.

The pervasive gloom suited the enveloping metamorphosis occurring in the atmosphere around you. What had initially blossomed as playful, heated flirtation was now rapidly transmuting into something far more primal...darker and slipperier, etched in discordant minor keys of need and unvarnished id.

Somehow, you'd wandered into the heart of the park's tangled bower by the time both twins slowed to a predatory prowl, easing you to a halt before some kind of crumbling, vine-choked gazebo structure. The tang of humus and creeping must cloistered the air from the wreckage's interior as the scudding clouds overhead briefly parted to drench the scene in lurid moonlight.

"Seems like the perfect place for our lil' bunny's first lessons in her new place," Atsumu rumbled in a voice gone viscously, unhurriedly prurient.

Osamu simply grunted a baritone concurrence against the nape of your neck, the humid brand of his lips and tongue flickering out to tease your thundering pulsepoint into frantic pulsing arrhythmia. Fresh streaks of slick friction trailed scorching in his wake, his free palm shamelessly mapping your abdomen while yanking your hips back to grind your body flush against what could only be described as devastating evidence of his arousal.

"As much as I want to just take what's mine right here," he purred in a voice rendered somehow even more dangerously silken by its hungered gravel, "perhaps somewhere more...accommodatin' is in order for our lil' initiate's debasement."

The eroded gazebo groaned around you in winded rebuke of the lurid imaginings those words profaned into being. You distantly recognized the shrill peeping in your ears as thin streams of panicked panting slipping from your own constricted vocals.

But even the moss-choked pavilion surrounding you felt like the thin shroud of propriety was rapidly disintegrating between the twins' steadily intensifying thrall. Their hands and mouths issued obscene benedictions putting the ancient metaphysical principles required for unholy desecrations to shame.

"Mmm, awfully gallant of you 'Samu..." Atsumu chuckled with profane avuncularity against your nape while simultaneously cupping the underside of your jaw to angle you up and into the unyielding vice of his heated stare. "But you might be wastin' your sweet concerns over modesty or deflowerment. Pretty sure this lil' wildflower is already well on her way to bein' ruined for any but us."

The promise stitched into his rapacious tarryweavingwords hit you like a psychic hammer, jarring loose another plosive whimper from your constricted windpipe.

Then Osamu pivoted you in a scintillating blur, yanking your back flush against his chest which just allowed Atsumu's lush mouth to plunder the exquisite wreck of your swollen, panting lips while he nonchalantly aided his twin in stripping you of your obstinately clinging garments.

The twins moved with predatory precision, stripping you of your clothing with an almost ritualistic deliberation that allowed no space for objection or resistance. Their hands branded scorching paths over each newly exposed expanse of flesh, mapping your curves and valleys with ravenous entitlement.

Osamu's calloused palms shackled your wrists behind your back as he plastered his solid frame against you from behind, the uncompromising ridge of his cock grinding against the cleft of your ass through the barrier of his clothing. You trembled overtly, a piteous whine vibrating against Atsumu's marauding tongue as he thoroughly plundered the defenseless cavern of your mouth.

"Such a responsive little thing," Atsumu husked in approval once he finally allowed you a desperate gasp of air. His quicksilver stare glittered with unholy promise in the wash of pale moonlight as he leisurely took in your mostly-bared state with shameless appraisal. "Fuck, darlin', you have any idea how long we've been waiting to get you just like this? All trussed up and shakin' apart with sweet little need written across every tremblin' inch of you..."

You shook your head in a dizzying micro-motion, drowning beneath the roiling tsunami of their combined intensity. Osamu chuckled against the nape of your neck in rich wickedness, subtly rocking his hips to grind the brand of his cock deeper between your parted legs.

"'Course she hasn't the faintest idea," he rumbled in amusement, large palms sliding up to engulf the generous swells of your breasts in scalding possession. "Pretty lil' thing was too busy playing the wide-eyed innocent to notice the way her teasing glances and pretty lips were drivin' us half-mad with want."

Reflexively, your back arched into the rough exploration of his achingly dexterous hands working your tender nipples into stiffened points between finger and thumb. The resultant mewling cry spilled shamelessly from your parted lips, only to be swallowed by Atsumu capturing your mouth once more in a soul-searing brand of possession.

His tongue swept with conquistador's dominion, staking rapacious claim to every untried crevice and plane until you spiraled into boneless quiescence within their encompassing immensity. Rough denim rasped against your over-sensitized skin with each shift of their bodies, stoking subliminal friction into merciless sublimation.

"No more playin' coy now, babydoll," Atsumu growled against the slick, swollen want of your lips before winding his fingers into your hair to yank your head back with cruel precision. His stare pinned you immobile beneath its thrall as he allowed the broad crown of his cock to grind against your bared abdomen in a sensual ellipsis.

"You're ours now, sweetheart—body, soul, and any other part of your pretty lil' self that tries to pretend it can resist givin' us everything we crave."

Osamu rumbled in agreement, the graveled brand of his lips blackening tingling lasers of sweet unraveling along the side of your arched neck.

"Mm, think I hear our bunny pleading to sample just how thorough her new masters' attentions aim to be. Say the words, little dove...beg for what that delicious little body won't stop tremblin' in wanton cravings for. Beg Daddy and Uncle 'Tsumu to give it to you good..."

The twins seemed wholly unconcerned with decorum as they backed you further into the secluded gazebo, hands continuing to roam and caress in undisguised possession. Their nearness and intensity was utterly overwhelming, suffocating in its profane dominance over your senses.

"Look at you, pretty girl," Atsumu purred, the rumbling timbre of his voice laced with dark promise. "Flushed and breathless already just from our touch. You may have played the innocent before, but your body knows exactly what it craves from us."

Osamu chuckled, lips brushing the sensitive skin just below your ear. "She doesn't have to say a word, 'Tsumu. We can read every one of her wanton little needs written in the way she trembles for more."

You shuddered at their words, at the implication that they could so thoroughly unravel you with just the barest of contact. A whimpering sound slipped free, one you didn't quite recognize as your own amidst the thundering of your pulse.

The twins shared a loaded look over your form, a silent interaction heavy with meaning. Then, almost casually, Atsumu reached out and plucked at one of the few remaining scraps of fabric still clinging to your flushed skin. With a deft tug, he stripped it away entirely, leaving you bared before their insistent perusal.

A desperate keening built in your throat as you instinctively moved to cover yourself, a last vestige of modesty surfacing. But the twins were having none of it. Strong hands captured your wrists, holding them immobile at your sides as they drank in every quivering inch.

"No hiding now, bunny," Osamu rumbled, the endearment carrying a darker edge you'd never heard before. "You're ours, all ours to admire and fuck as we see fit. And we intend to admire every luscious curve until you're sobbing with need."

The words alone were enough to have you squirming helplessly between them, the very air itself seeming to throb with their smoldering possession. This was far beyond mere flirtation or teasing now. There would be no going back once you fully surrendered to the rapacious hunger written in every line of the twins' bodies.

But even as uncertainty flickered, a deeper, more primal part of you thrilled at the thought of belonging so completely to them. Of giving yourself over and letting them take everything they craved. You wanted it with a ferocity that terrified and excited you in equal measure.

So when Atsumu trailed a scorching path down your body, callused palm settling between your parted thighs, you didn't resist. A guttural moan tore free as he stroked over your slick pussy, eyes blazing like gemstone flames.

"That's our girl," he growled in approval. "Gonna make you feel so good, kitten. Gonna show you exactly why you were made for us and us alone..."

With those words, he lowered his mouth to your breast, sucking and laving the hardened bud with devastating precision. It was as if a livewire connected between his hot, wet tongue and the sensitive bundle of nerves at your core. Every teasing flick and swirling suck sent a fresh wave of electricity shuddering through your veins, stoking the burning embers in your belly to molten life.

You arched against him, desperate for more, and Osamu's answering chuckle ghosted across the damp skin of your throat. "That's it, sweetheart, give in to the pleasure. We're going to show you just how good it can be when you let go and give in to what your body craves."

Atsumu's fingers continued their slow, maddening rhythm, and you writhed helplessly between them, a mewling, pleading mess. You felt him smirk against your skin, reveling in the power he held over you. "Mm, fuck, I love how you taste. I could eat you for hours, bunny. Make you come over and over again until you can't even remember your own name. Would you like that?"

Your response was a desperate, incoherent cry, hips bucking against his hand as you chased the white-hot peak of pleasure. Atsumu smirked, dark and wicked. "Oh, you'll be getting that and more, bunny. But first, I think you're ready to find out exactly why you're here."

With those words, he pulled away, leaving you shivering and bereft. You blinked up at him, uncomprehending, only to gasp as he and Osamu turned you around and bent you forward, your palms landing on the weathered wood of the gazebo's bench.

Your breath caught in your throat as Atsumu nudged your legs apart, baring your dripping heat to the night air. Behind you, Osamu's hand settled on the small of your back, a subtle yet unrelenting command. "Be a good girl and stay still, now."

You shivered as you felt Atsumu's calloused palms trail up the backs of your thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He kneaded the firm flesh, thumbs dipping tantalizingly close to where you wanted them most.

"Look at you," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "So wet and eager, just begging to be filled. And we're going to fill you so good, bunny, gonna stuff you so full you won't even remember anything but the feeling of our cocks stretching you open."

He punctuated his words with a light slap to your ass, the sudden sting making you jolt. Osamu's fingers dug in harder, a warning to hold still, and you whimpered, the anticipation nearly unbearable.

Then, finally, you felt the blunt head of Atsumu's cock press against your entrance, and you couldn't help but cry out as he sank inside, stretching you open with a delicious burn. Your fingers clenched around the bench, and you bowed your head, panting as he slowly worked his way deeper, each inch sending fresh waves of pleasure rippling through you.

By the time he was fully sheathed inside you, you were a trembling mess, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on your skin. He held still for a moment, letting you adjust to the sensation, and then he started to move, the slow, torturous slide of his cock pulling moans from deep within your throat.

Your fingers dug into the bench, and you hung your head, lost in the sensation of being fucked so thoroughly. Each thrust seemed to strike sparks deep within you, building the pressure until you were practically vibrating with need.

"Such a perfect little hole for my cock, so fucking tight," Atsumu murmured, his voice laced with lust. "We're going to use it so good, bunny, make you forget all about your old life and replace it with this. Just the feel of my cock pounding into your needy cunt, filling you up with my cum until it drips down your thighs."

He punctuated his words with sharp, stinging slaps to your ass, the pain sending a shockwave of pleasure straight to your core. You arched into him, desperate for more, and he obliged, setting a punishing pace as he pounded into you.

Osamu watched it all, his own cock hard and heavy in his pants, the sight of his brother claiming what was rightfully his sending a possessive thrill through his veins. He could feel the tension building, his twin's thrusts becoming more erratic, and he knew it wouldn't be long before he came.

He waited until the last possible moment, then yanked Atsumu back, his twin's cock sliding out of you with a lewd pop. You whined, desperate for more, and he smirked, a wicked glint in his eyes. "Don't worry, sweetheart, you're not done yet. Not until I've had a turn."

He ignored Atsumu’s protests as he pulled you up and spun you around, settling you on his lap as he sat down on the bench. You straddled his hips, the thick length of his cock nestled between your folds, and he reached up to cup your face, tilting it towards him. "Now be a good girl and show Daddy how grateful you are for his cock."

You hesitated for a moment, then obeyed, sinking down onto his length, the stretch nearly enough to make you see stars. You rocked your hips, taking him deeper, and Osamu's fingers tightened on your face, his gaze burning into yours. "That's it, sweetheart, take every inch. You were made for this, made for us to use and fill and pleasure. And you're going to learn just how good it can be when you're obedient and do as you're told."

You could only whimper, lost in the sensations as you rode him, each roll of your hips drawing fresh gasps and moans. Your fingers tangled in his hair, and you arched your back, grinding against him, chasing the elusive peak.

Osamu's fingers dug into your skin, his breath coming in harsh pants as he matched your pace, driving his cock deeper and deeper. You could feel the pressure building, coiling tighter and tighter, until finally, with a strangled cry, you tumbled over the edge, your whole body shaking with the force of your release.

Your nails raked across Osamu's skin, and he groaned, burying his face in your neck as his cock twitched inside you, pumping you full of his cum. The sensation drew out your climax, and you collapsed against him, the aftershocks rippling through you.

As you came down from the high, a bone-deep satisfaction settled over you, and you melted against him, spent and sated. He stroked your hair, murmuring soothing words as you caught your breath, and you closed your eyes, reveling in the moment.

In the silence, a low chuckle echoed, and you opened your eyes to see Atsumu watching you, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "Well, well, looks like our lil' bunny is a quick learner. I'd say she's more than earned a reward, don't ya think?"

Without waiting for a reply, he stepped forward, his gaze raking over you. "'Samu, bend her over, will ya? I wanna fuck he throat until she's droolin' with my cum."

Your eyes widened, and you opened your mouth to protest, but Osamu was already obeying, manhandling you until you were splayed along his thighs, your head hanging upside down as his fingers dug into your waist with the effort of holding you in that position. The new position put your face directly in line with Atsumu's cock, the thick shaft already glistening with precum.

He reached down, running a thumb along your lower lip, and you felt a surge of heat between your legs, unknowingly clenching around Osamu's still-hard cock. He groaned, his grip on your waist tightening, and Atsumu chuckled, his eyes dark with desire.

"I knew you'd enjoy bein' used like this, bunny. Now open wide and let me use that pretty little mouth."

Before you could reply, he pushed past your lips, his cock sliding deep into your throat, cutting off any sound. You gagged around him, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, and Osamu's grip tightened, grounding you.

"Relax, sweetheart, and let him use you. It feels good to be used, doesn't it? To know that your only purpose is to please us and be filled with our cum?"

The words were filthy and depraved, but you couldn't deny the truth of them. You were already growing wetter, and Atsumu's cock was hard and thick in your throat, cum-heavy balls pressed against your nose as he fucked your face. You could feel your throat bulging, and the obscene sight only fueled the fire burning within Atsumu.

"Fuck, 'Samu, look at that, she's takin' it so well, her lil' throat stuffed full of my cock." He pulled back, just enough to allow you a ragged gasp of air, and then he was plunging back in, watching as your throat stretched to accommodate him.

"This is all she's good for, being our lil' fucktoy to use and pleasure as we see fit." His fingers curled around your neck, feeling the outline of his cock through your skin, and his eyes blazed with lust.

"I can't wait to fill her up, to watch her belly swell with my cum. We'll breed her over and over until there's no doubt she's ours."

His words were like a physical touch, and you squirmed against Osamu, your pussy clenching around him as a wave of need washed over you. He was rocking into you, now, small movements that kept you stimulated without bringing you too close to the edge.

You moaned around Atsumu's cock, the vibrations causing him to hiss and jerk his hips. His eyes narrowed, and he reached down, gripping your throat and squeezing.

"Oh, bunny, are you gonna be a naughty girl and make me punish you?" He thrust hard, cutting off any response, and then he was coming, spilling down your throat as he groaned. You swallowed around him, the sensation sending him over the edge, and he pulled out, painting your face with the last of his cum.

"Fuck, you're so goddamn perfect, such a filthy little slut." He ran his thumb through the mess, rubbing it into your skin, and you moaned, the filthy degradation only serving to stoke your arousal higher.

Osamu's grip on you tightened, and you could feel his cock throbbing inside you, his rhythm stuttering as he neared his own release. You rocked your hips, grinding against him, and his breath hitched, a low growl escaping his throat.

"Are you gonna come for us, sweetheart? Come while you're stuffed full of Daddy's cock, and Uncle 'Tsumu's cum is drippin' down your chin?"

His words were a litany of filthy depravity, and you were helpless to resist, falling apart under their combined attentions. Your pussy spasmed, clenching around him as another orgasm ripped through you, sending sparks flying across your vision.

Osamu snarled, his fingers digging into your hips as he held you in place, slamming into you with animalistic force. You could feel his cock twitching, the sensation amplified by the aftershocks still rippling through your core. With a final, guttural cry, he buried himself inside you, his cock pulsing as he pumped you full of his cum for the second time that night.

The three of you stayed there for a moment, locked in carnal embrace, the only sound the harsh pants of your breaths as you struggled to recover. Finally, Atsumu spoke, his voice laced with smug satisfaction.

"Mm, what do ya say, 'Samu, d'ya think our lil' bunny is gonna get the hang of havin' two big cocks stuffin' her tight lil' holes soon enough?"

You could only whimper, the mere suggestion of another round already sending heat pooling low in your belly. Osamu chuckled, his fingers stroking idly along your spine. "Oh, I think she'll be a fast learner, 'Tsumu. But don't worry, we'll make sure she gets plenty of practice. After all, we can't have her disappointing her new owners now, can we?"

As he spoke, his hand slid down, dipping between your legs to circle your sensitive clit, and you shuddered, already aching for more. You could feel his cock, still buried deep inside you, growing hard once again, and Atsumu's fingers tangled in your hair, yanking your head back until your throat was bared.

"No, we can't," he agreed, his lips curving into a wicked smirk. "Now be a good girl and let Daddy and Uncle 'Tsumu show you what a real fuckin' is like..."

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tadpolesonalgae · 8 months

Text

Dark!Rhysand x reader: mine.[***]

A/N: Razzled, dazzled and frazzled my mind

(This isn’t dark dark, but just be wary!)

Warnings: dub-con, hate sex?, dark!Rhysand, CNC kink

Word Count: 5,297

“Where the hell were you last night?”

Blink wearily, attempting to locate the voice. Head is pounding, floor swaying ever so slightly. Gods, you should have watched how much you drank. Blearily stumble forward, clutching your purse tight to make sure you don’t misplace it again. Intricately detailed shoes peek into your vision, the dark leather neatly indented with swirls and dots. You look up; violet splashes across your world, head twinging at the startling colour. “Mother, Rhys. Your eyes.”

Hands press over your own, soothing their ache, providing pleasant reprieve from the bright vibrancy. He steadies you as you sway, roughly holding you straight by your hips. Hear as he scents you. “You drank too much again, didn’t you?” You groan at his protective nature, batting his hands away. “I’m fine, Rhys,” you snap, “I’m capable of looking after myself.” Squint up at him in time to catch a muscle feathering in his jaw. “Forgive me for doubting you, Lady.” He steps aside, gesturing with his arm for you to walk past. “I trust you’ll be perfectly capable of making it to your chambers?”

Scowl at his arrogant tone, warily eyeing the staircase. Pride won’t let you back down, though, so you put one heeled foot in front of the other, steadily marching away. Until the room tilts, and you stumble.

His scent engulfs you, firm warmth wrapping around your middle, large hands gripping your waist, keeping you upright. You regain your balance, then push out of his hold. “Seriously, I’m fine,” you snap again, embarrassment warming your features. He scoffs, still holding you to his warmth, “you were about to shatter your nose on the marble.”

“I was not!” You insist. He stares at you hard, pinning you to the floor with that sharp, violet gaze of his. Dips his head once, and releases you.

Your legs give out, making you yelp as you drop to the floor, knees surely going to bruise from the impact. Spine hurting, too, from how you landed on it. Curse at him under your breath, then glare upward. “You’re a dick, Rhys.”

“You’re irresponsible, and clearly unable to handle your alcohol,” he growls softly, violet taking on an icy hue. “Do you even remember any of last night? Anything you did? Where you went?”

Brow narrows; lips purse. You look away from him.

Jaw tightens. “I thought not.”

Glare up at him, getting to your wobbly feet. “That’s my choice, Rhys. Quit being so controlling. I can do what I want, so stay the hell out of it.”

His temper flares in response, hands gripping your hips, hard. Pulls you tight against his chest. Releases the damper on his power, pressure weighing on your bones as your knees again turn weak, relying on his strength to keep you upright. Grip shakily onto his arms, steadying yourself as your heartbeat spikes.

“Prove you’re capable of being responsible for yourself, for once, and I’ll stop,” he snarls, gaze turning indigo. “But as it stands, any number of things could have happened to you, and you don’t even seem to care.”

“It’s not your business to care,” you manage, voice straining beneath him. He snarls roughly, fingers biting into you, putting bruises into your hips. Suck in a sharp hiss at the sting, flattening your palms over his chest, attempting to push away from him. He grips harder; you whimper.

Muscle stiffens at the sound, sharp arousal piercing his mind, watching from an elevated view how you squirm in his hold, how you fit against him. So clearly made for him. Why can’t you see that? Why can’t you feel how well you mould against his body?

“What if some other male had you like this, huh?” He growls, softly. “There’s nothing you could do. Do you not understand that?” His own heart spikes at the idea alone. If you were somehow subjected to even a fraction of what he went through Under The Mountain… Rage pounds in his heart, fury ripping at his insides. That will never happen to you. Never.

You tip your head upward, craning your neck to peer at him. “You’re the most powerful High Lord in Prythian’s history. That’s hardly a fair example,” you snap weakly, having a hard time resisting his pull. His upper lip curls back, showcasing sharp, gleaming canines. How would they feel on your skin? “There are many other males out there. Certainly nowhere near as powerful as I am, but strong enough to take you if they wanted. And yet you insist on putting yourself at their mercy.”

A snarl rips from your throat. “So it’s my fault they’re like that? Fuck off, Rhys. You’re better than that.” His grip tightens further, your hands flying to his, attempting to push him off you. Tears blur from the pain, but anger surges quick behind. “Get off me. You’re hurting me,” you manage, glaring up into darkened violet, pupils dilating before your eyes.

He can feel the heat from your body, feel the supple press of your stomach as you writhe against him, how you’re inadvertently rubbing over him. Cock twitching behind the seam of his fitted trousers. “What would you do?” He repeats, staring down at you as you squirm, chest rising and falling lightly. “What could you do?”

Breath pants softly from your lips, the swell of your breasts pushing against the crisp dark linen of his neatly pressed shirt. Mouth parted invitingly, your own eyes dipping briefly to his own, flicking over curiously—absently. Something flits through your gaze, resistance draining from your form, almost melting against him. At last.

His heartbeat spikes, temperature raising as your hands raise from his chest to his shoulders. Almost inquisitively, hesitant of what’s happening. Push up onto your tiptoes, eyes again flicking down to his mouth. His head quietens, memories of what you were talking about vanishing, zeroing on the offer you’re laying out before him. How your eyes are clouding, and you’re…

A snarl rips from his throat as you slam your heel on his toe, landing a brutal kick to his shin. Darting out of his hold, stumbling backward. “I could do that, for starters,” you huff, breathing heavily as you regain your sense now that his power isn’t utterly overwhelming you. He could expand it to reach you, though. “I’m not as helpless as you might think, Rhys. So piss off.”

Fury clouds his vision, darkness wrapping around his mind.

Sharp, glittering talons breech your mind, keeping you frozen to the floor. Back turned on your High Lord. Can’t even swallow, rooted to the spot.

“And what about now?” He growls, softly. Shoes tap lightly along the marble floor, leisurely and refined. A beast who knows his prey is trapped. “What would you do against another with my set of gifts, hm? Your mental walls are as strong as tissue when you’re drunk.” Mind is pulsing, awareness prickling your skin as those talons scrape menacingly against your walls, cupping your conscious in the palm of his hand. As if those claws encapsulate your entire body, skin littered with goose-pimples.

“Rhys…” Your voice is strained, dragging against the rawness of your throat. Heat radiates into your back, powerful arms snaking around your middle, keeping you tight to his chest. Hips pressing into your ass. Spine curves subconsciously, pushing into him. “Why do you insist on making me worry so much?” He whispers beside your ear, one hand gliding up over your front, brushing up the line between your breasts. Cupping your throat; holding, lightly. Tipping your head back so it’s resting against his shoulder. “Do you enjoy seeing me like this? Enjoy these arguments, hm?”

A shiver licks its way down your spine at the softly-spoken roughness of his words. “I don’t…” Swallow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Fingers are trembling with indecision. You should pull him off you, shouldn’t allow this type of touching. Blatant and unrestricted. Burning through your clothes.

“No?”

Heart spikes at the lilt. Swallow again beneath his palm, wrapping around to the base of your neck. “It’s my choice is I want to go out…” you manage, breathing heavier. Head spinning from how his scent is overpowering you, power thrumming in the air, buzzing beneath your skin. Zapping at your clit, making you ache. “It’s my body, Rhys…”

“I don’t think it’s truly yours right now is it, little lynx?”

Awareness prickles at your skin, nipples peaking beneath your dress—there’s no way he could miss it. Neither that nor the stiffening of your body as you try to regain some control over yourself. Try to find those lethally sharp talons, and push them from your mind, one at a time. “That’s not fair… Let me go,” you manage steadily, hands overlapping his own, fingers settling between his own, attempting to weakly tug him away.

His lips part in a smile, brushing against your cheek, the weight of his piercing gaze heating your features. “Do you really want that?” He asks, hand tightening around your throat, possessive ownership. Like a collar. Your temperature spikes at the low implication—how could he possibly know… “Rhys…” you warn. Try to. It sounds a little too close to a whine for your tastes. He hums against your back, something turning to molten liquid between your thighs.

Grit your teeth, pulling harder at him, attempting to squirm away. Shifting in his tight hold, one arm still wrapped flush over your abdomen, pressing you back into him. “Rhys, let go of me.”

Quiet stretches between you, then his hold tightens almost imperceptibly, giving you a suggestive squeeze. Like he won’t let you go, like your demand means nothing to him, because he doesn’t need to listen to you. You’re already his, he knows you completely and utterly; he knows you don’t want him to listen to you.

But then he releases his hold on you, and cold rushes your back. Steps in front, towering over you. “I may have let you run free, but I doubt you would have enjoyed being held captive by another male,” he drawls lowly, hands sliding into his pockets, the portrait of lethal grace. Pulls back, standing to his full height, marking how the breath puffs from your parted lips, peering up at him hungrily. Do you even know how you’re looking at him?

Takes a step back, then turns on his feet, prowling off deeper into his home. Aiming for his office, if you remember correctly. Peers at you from over his shoulder, lips twisted into a feline grin, “you know you’re always welcome to spend a night in. I’m sure the alcohol in the cellar will be of a much finer quality.”

Then he’s disappearing off through a doorway, leaving you staring after him. Body unnaturally flushed, despite the lack of wine in your system.

————

It’s long past midnight and you’re long past sober.

Not enough to be blackout but rationality has long since left your body.

A droplet of wine trickles from the corner of your mouth and you hastily lower the bottle to feel as it drips down to your chest, seeping into the fabric of your night robe. Quickly dry the wet spot, disliking the way the material stuck to you. Wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, gripping the neck of the wine bottle, wondering what havoc you could wreak.

You could go out into the night…nose scrunches at the idea. You’re all cozy and tucked away in here, no way you’re going to change into a tiny dress and heels that make being out and drunk even more dangerous. You could go to bed…but that’s boring, and you’re wide awake. Slightly hungry, too. Lick your lips as an idea springs to mind, grabbing another bottle as you go. Mouth quirks upward as you imagine the chaos you’ll get to inflict upon your unsuspecting High Lord.

————

Push the door wide without knocking and saunter in, drunkenly wobbling on bare feet.

“Morning, Rhys,” you greet, violet eyes flicking up to meet your own the second you were in view. He switches his attention to the antique clock ticking on a wall, checking the time. You are, unfortunately, correct. It is, technically, morning. “Good morning,” he drawls, sitting upright, attention skating to the tops of your thighs, the hem of your silky night top barely swaying over the skin. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

You’re already at his desk by the time he’s finished his question, pushing the bottle over. “How well can you handle your liquor, High Lord?” You ask mischievously, challenge gleaming in your gaze. Violet dips to how your hand is wrapped around the neck of your own bottle, raising it to your lips; drinking deeply. “Better than you, at the very least,” he replies, noting the patch of damp fabric around your neck.

A scowl creases your brows as you glare at him, taking another sip before you do anything rash. “You’re being disagreeable,” you snap, drying the edges of your mouth with your thumb. Enjoying how intently he’s watching. He quirks a neatly groomed brow, challenge lighting his violet eyes. “I am?”

“Just drink the damned thing,” you mutter, folding your arms over your chest stubbornly. “Shouldn’t you be leaping for joy that I’m not ‘putting myself at some other male’s mercy’,” you mimic, lowering you voice in a poor attempts to match his own.

Lips quirk as the stopper vanishes from the bottleneck, leaning back in his chair, taking a decadent drink of the lovely wine. Heat pools between your thighs at the roll of his throat. Then he’s lowering it to his desk, setting it down on the mahogany. “So you’ve decided to put yourself at mine instead?” Nose wrinkles at how he’s phrasing it. “I should have poisoned yours.” Violet eyes gleam with mischief. “It’s not too late,” he hums, attention flicking to the wine before him.

Roll your eyes, muttering under your breath, taking another gulp…and you’re out. Scowl deepens as you glare. It was practically full five minutes ago. Grumble to yourself, on the brink of turning to return to the cellar, when he winnows to be at your back. Arm is again pressed over your abdomen, except this time his hand is splayed lightly. Breath catches in your throat as he keeps you tight to his chest.

“Where do you think you’re going, little lynx?” He asks beside you ear, breath feathering over your skin. Brow narrows, head instinctively tipping back to rest against his shoulder, trying to peer up at him. “I’m getting another,” you respond, practically jumping at the opportunity to lean back against him; relieve the weight from your tired feet. Lips quirk, feeling you sink into him. Magic zips across your skin, then he’s raising something to your mouth.

Eyes flick down, spotting how he’s called over his own bottle, gently putting it against your lips. Encouraging you to drink. And maybe— No, you definitely flick your tongue out over the head, guessing at the kind of reaction it will evoke from the male. Hand tightens over your abdomen, but other than that, he merely tilts the bottle higher, watching as the liquid pours into your mouth. Raises it higher, greedily marking how a drop or two trickles down the corner of your lips.

Scowl at him when he steps away, moving to wipe away the dampness before it can splash down onto your night robe. But he spins you around, violet eyes commanding you not to do a thing. Damn him.

Instead, he grips your chin, tipping you upward. Feeling at the droplet cascades down to the hollow of your throat, reaching your collar bones— “Rhys!”

Muscles tense as he attaches his mouth over the bare skin, lightly sucking away the alcohol. Swallow as his tongue flicks out, softly, with slow, gentle strokes. Lapping up the warm path. Hands tremble at your sides, caught between shoving him away and tugging him closer. “Rhys…” you mumble, voice fragile in the quiet. Travels up your neck, flicking out beneath your jaw, tasting your skin, licking the corner of your mouth. Pulls away with hunger in his eyes. Knees feel weak, trembling at the thrumming intensity about him.

You swallow heavily, heartbeat spiking at that male look. “What…?” Peer up at him, spine tingling with anticipation, fingers trembling with uncertainty. His tongue again flicks out over his lip, heat flaring between your thighs, observing cautiously. Clear your throat, trying desperately to pull out from his hold. “Bold move.”

The High Lord raises a single brow, violet sparkling in his gaze. “It was nothing of the sort,” he counters smoothly. You frown up at him, “do you do that with all you lady friends, Rhysand?” Stars glitter in his eyes, mirth dancing, “male friends, too.”

You scoff, batting his chest once, “I’m being serious.” A low chuckle drags from his throat, his hands settling on your hips softly, touch like a brand. “Are you interested in seeing a truly bold move?”

Lips part at the blatant invitation, staring at him. Eyes flick away temporarily, considering. Return to his after a second of contemplation. Shrug your shoulders nonchalantly. “How bad could it be?”

A feline smile graces his hellish mouth, then he’s pushing you backward, walking you until his desk digs into backs of your thighs. One hand steadies yourself on the surface, the other landing high on his upper arm, over the swell of well-earned muscle. Quirk your brow in competition. “My, my, Rhysand. How brazen you are—”

His mouth attaches to the sensitive skin of your neck, sealing over a point between your shoulder and throat, sucking and nipping.

Mouth parts in surprise, back arching into him. One of his own hands winding around your waist, making your spine curve as his hips press against your own. Fingers press into him at the abrupt move forward, the way he’s pinning you to his desk as he laps over your skin. Taking what he wants.

“Rhys…” you murmur, breathing a little faster than you were a few moments ago. He doesn’t pull away, switching to a spot lower down, bringing his canines out this time. Gasp as they prickle at your throat, scraping across your skin. “Rhys, stop,” you mumble, pushing lightly at his shoulder.

He doesn’t budge.

Heart picks up a beat as he bites harder, making you hiss. Legs turning weak as he keeps you still, hips pressing tight into your own while he occupies himself with your taste. “Cut it out,” you hiss, temperature rising as you push harder. “I know you’re not that drunk, Rhys. You’ve barely had anything, so—”

You get a little dizzy as his hand slides down the curve of your ass, settling over top with male propriety. Squeezing with interest. Back arches, arms twisting up over his broad shoulders. He growls softly against your throat, nosing at the bruises he’s already begun painting onto you. Nips at a space beneath your jaw. Breath catches in your throat as he pulls away, standing up to his full height. “Bold enough for you?”

Heart picks up speed again, uncontrollable heat pooling between your legs, surely dense enough he’ll be able to scent it by now. Blatant want.

Raise your hand before you can think twice, smacking him square across the jaw.

Violet eyes widen, staring at you. Gingerly raises his fingers to feel the sting of the skin. Watches you, features unreadable.

“I told you to stop,” you grit out, pulling your hands to your chest, shielding yourself. “What’s wrong with you? You’ve been acting off since this morning.”

A low snarl drags from his throat then, hands gripping your hips tighter, pressing into the earlier formed bruises. “So you’re back to acting like this, huh?” You swallow at the tone, the rough drag of the letters as they leave his tongue. Straighten your spine. “Like what?” You snap, attempting to edge away as much as you can, shifting your weight more onto the desk. Legs parting a little in the process.

It’s space he quickly takes advantage of, stepping to be closer between your thighs, pushing you back so you’re almost seated atop the surface. “Pretending,” he growls. “Teasing.” Hands settle around your waist. “Taunting.”

Lip curls back from your teeth, “you aren’t entitled to my affections, High Lord.” He laughs, roughly, palms splaying flat against your skin. An arrogant presumption. Shifts you so you’re fully on his desk, allowing him to press between your thighs. “How much wetter did you get from having my title on your tongue?”

Arousal turns molten in the pit of your belly, hands flatten against the mahogany, steadying yourself as he presses in. “That’s none of your business,” you breathe, shifting backwards. “Even in your position, you keep your nose out of my life, Rhysand.” He hums, the sound rumbling in his chest, peering down at your from his vantage point. “Weren’t you the one to come drunkenly stumbling into my office?” He drawls, mouth so close to your own you can practically feel its softness. “Barely dressed, at that. What sort of message do you think that sends?”

Brow narrows, attempting to glare up at him. “I think it shows that I expect basic decency from you, and that I don’t think I’ll get taken advantage of for respecting your request to be a little more careful where I drink.”

“Maybe I should listen to what you’re saying,” he growls softly, peering down at you. “But I don’t think that would be the right way to bed you.”

A wave of arousal crests over you, washing over your body, ravishing it with heat. Thighs part wider for him, speechless from the brazen answer. “That’s a hell of a lot of assuming you’re doing,” you manage weakly, on the verge of succumbing to him entirely. Mouth quirks into a distinctly Rhys-like grin, “tell me I’m wrong.”

The challenges ripples across your skin, prickling beneath the intensity of his gaze. As though he’s stripping you naked, inch by inch. Swallow around the pressure that’s contracting your throat, violet tracing its roll. “I…” Heart kicks up, heat bubbling between your thighs, anticipation thick enough to be cut with a knife. Swallow again.

“I thought not.” Then his mouth is forcefully crushing against your own, hands roughly gripping your waist; your hips. Dragging you to be tight against him, thighs pushed so ankles lock at his back. Tongue pries your lips apart, stroking over your own, gathering, tasting you. Groans roughly into the hot, open-mouthed kiss, holding you flush to his chest. The swell of your breasts rises and falls with the hurried pants, temperature spiking as he invades and conquers, waging war on your body. Taking it for his own.

Eyes flutter shut, and he’s shoving you back onto his desk, ink pots spilling, papers scattering, shooting up before raining to the floor. Mouth detaches from your own, only to reattach to that— “fuck…” He targets it mercilessly, scraping the sharp point of his canines over the sensitive patch, biting roughly, marking. Spine arches upward, legs locking firmly around his hips as he thumbs away the straps of your night gown. Pushing them off your shoulders, practically tearing the material away to make room for his tongue; his teeth.

The High Lord leaves a path of bruises in his wake, nipping and kissing his way to your breasts. Gasp when his licks over a peaked nipple, fingers threading in his hair, nails scraping. “Rhys…” you pant, hips winding, bucking against his own, feeling the prominency of his own arousal. How big he is. Good Gods.

Pulls away, chest rising and falling slightly, staring down at you with dilated pupils. A beast taking in his catch for the night. Staring down at his meal. It makes heat swarm your body, breathing quickening. “What are you waiting for?” You pant, staring up at him, trying not to think about how ink is almost certainly staining the soft fabric of your night shift.

Teeth flash in a vicious smile. “I thought you didn’t want this?” Brow narrows, lip pulls back from your own teeth. Move to shove away from him, but his palm presses down over your sternum, pinning you effortlessly to his desk. “I don’t,” you snap weakly, the pressure from his hand keeping your voice soft. He hums in response, then your legs are being forcefully unhooked from his hips. Fingertips bite into the underside of your thighs, and then they’re pushed back, positioned close to your sides, bent at the knee.

“Rhysand!” You snarl.

Palm smacks over your mouth as he licks up your centre. Hissing at the pleasurable violation.

He pulls back, grinning arrogantly from between your thighs, lips glistening. “You taste like you want it.”

“Well. I don’t,” you manage to grit out, hands clenching into fists. His brow quirks, seeing through your lies, but makes to retract from your aching cunt. You hiss softly, ankles locking as your legs hook over the broad width of his shoulders. “You’ll damn well finish what you started, High Lord.”

Rhys chuckles roughly, sending fire licking between your thighs, more wetness pooling as he drags it out. “So demanding,” he taunts, “and here I was, thinking about giving it to you for free.” He stands up to his full height, pulse spiking as his dexterous finger drop to the ties of his leathers, slowly pulling them loose. “But I suppose if I’m going to give you something, it’s fair to get something, in return.”

Throat dries out as he pushes away the constriction, large hand wrapping around his cock, allowing it to rest heavily over your cunt. “Don’t you dare,” you hiss, attempting to push up from his desk. Sharp talons pierce through your foggy mental walls, forcing you back down. Laughs cruelly, heat pounding between your thighs. Almost begging for him to slide home. To slam in to the hilt. The idea alone nearly makes your eyes roll form pleasure.

His grin widens as if he’s read your mind, arousal wrapping around your senses, filtering into your body through your lungs. Your own personal aphrodisiac.

“Don’t I dare what?” He taunts. Lethally quietly. Marks the roll of your throat.

“You know what I’m talking about,” you manage shakily, fingers gripping the edge of the desk, thighs subconsciously parting. His hips pull back, tip catching on your clit as he goes, making you flinch. Presses himself to the soft, wet dip. Positioning himself at your entrance. “I don’t think I do,” he murmurs back, leaning over your body, caging you in, hands wrapping around your wrists. “Tell me. Tell me what you don’t want me to do.”

Need pulses in your veins, short-circuiting your already hazy mind.

“Fuck me,” you manage, eyes glued to his lips, close enough to brush your own should you rise from the surface. “Don’t fuck me,” you breathe, struggling to keep your lids from fluttering shut. He offers a non-committal hum, violet dancing with mirth, lips quirking into a smirk. “What a shame.”

He slams in to the hilt.

A long moan drags from your lips, involuntarily tightening around him, hips pressing flush to the backs of your thighs. Spine bows from the furniture, eyes squeezing shut to keep in the tears of pleasure. You can only imagine how he would crow with cockiness if he saw how good you’re feeling. Breathe out shakily, and immediately suck another down. Open your mouth to speak, but he draws back, and slams in.

Air is shoved from your lungs, needing to make room for him, to accompany his size. Head tips back, eyes squeezed shut, fingers grasping at something to hold on to. His large hands grip your hips, pressing against the painful bruises, setting a brutal pace, pounding into you again and again. Pleasure blinds your vision, wildly grappling for something to hold onto, to keep you steady, ink wetting the pads of your fingertips.

He doesn’t allow you time to rest, not even a second. Slamming into you, touching those spots that make you sob, tears cascading back into your hair. He curses, low and vicious, attention glued to how you’re taking him. Wet squelches ring through the office, shallow pants and rough groans accompanying in the background.

Manage to crack your eyes open, peering up at him: flushed skin, colour tinting his cheeks, dark, inky swirls peeking from beneath the slightly unbuttoned shirt. Hands using your hips to slam you back against him, making certain he gets everywhere you need him. Thumb brushes over your clit, and you gasp. Nails pierce the wood, crying out in pleasure as he completely overwhelms you. Mind goes dumb, narrowing in on the feel of him, how he’s pressing against every delicious place. You don’t stand a single hope of lasting.

“Rhys…!” You whimper, teeth biting down into your lower lip.

Violet latches onto you, pinning you beneath him. “Close?” He smirks, thumb gently circling your clit, just adding that delicious edge for you to ride on. Cocky bastard. You would tell him as much if you had any capacity left for speech. “I thought you didn’t want me to fuck you?” He mocks, the lilt of his voice causing you to tighten around him. “I thought you would have hated this. Are you going to cum while hating me, too?”

Leans closer, the angle of his cock shifting within you. Tilting your hips upward a little.

Lips part as your orgasm lights your entire body, waves of pulsing heat and pleasure rolling through. Toes curl, eyes roll, spine bows. Arcing toward him like he’s pulling at your waist. Dear God above me… His violet eyes weight down on you, practically able to feel as they rove across your body, taking in your pleasure as it crashes into him.

Hips stutter, throwing you off, sending fresh, stronger waves coursing through your thighs. Hot cum spills into you, feeling how it fills you up, putting himself inside of you. Marking his territory. You’re his. His to pleasure, his to fuck, his to own. Utterly submitted.

Teeth bite into your throat as he rides out the aftershocks of his orgasm, tugging your head to one side to give him clear access. Stamping his ownership into every available point on your body. There’s no way he’ll allow you to cover those. He’d only create more, in increasingly obvious spaces, until his bruises are scrawled across every inch of skin. Scent infused with your own.

Rhys’ mouth finds yours, lips parting, tongue flicking over the roof of your mouth. It’s slower than before, a more leisurely exploration. There’s no hurry now. He’s taken you for himself. Can have you whenever he pleases in his mind. You moan softly, worn out from the strain of withstanding such intensity.

He pulls away, hand tangling in your hair, raising from the surface. “I suppose you positively despise me now?” He asks, tone lilting with mocking grace. Eyes gleaming with mirth. You scowl, inky fingers threading in the soft, silky locks. “I fucking hate you,” you snap in response, tugging his mouth back over your own.

Rhys laughs into the kiss, hips pressing back against your thighs, keeping his cum deep inside. Reminding you of the power he now has over you. Legs tighten, encouraging him to use it. To take advantage of it again.

Stars dance in violet eyes, a dark promise conveyed with a single look.

He’ll make you cum again and again until you’re begging for reprieve. And even then he’ll force one after the other, until you’re turning limp in his arms.

It’s not something you fear.

General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022

Rhys Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger

#October #Rhys #Rhysand #Rhys x reader #Rhysand x reader #Dark!rhysand #dark!rhysand x reader #Rhysand smut #dark!Rhysand smut

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bugsbia · 9 months

Text

Scaramouche x fem reader

ʚ getting drunk with a man you just met probably wasn’t the smartest idea.

ʚ BEFORE READING: reader works at a casino, scara is just a normal casino goer. I apologise for any mistakes!

ʚ WARNINGS: alcohol, dub-con ish since reader gets drunk, praising (good girl), degrading (slut, whore), fingering, pussy slap, a little orgasm denial

You’re just an average wait staff at a fancy-ish casino not too far from your house, most nights consist of nothing more than bringing people drinks and helping customers whenever they need assistance, and tonight wasn’t much different at first. Until a certain customer kept hanging around you, simply following you around and trying to catch you despite the fact you were obviously trying to work.

The tipsy man leaned against the counter and spoke to you as you wiped it down “What's your name? I’m Scaramouche” he said with a smirk, eyeing you up and down, taking in your details. “You’re far too pretty to be working here” he added as he leaned in closer.

Looking up at the clock you took note of the time, your shift ended in 15 minutes and this man was quite your type. You hesitated for a moment before turning back to him, telling him your name “My shift ends in about 15 minutes, hang around and maybe we can have a drink together” you added.

He happily agreed and went back to sitting by himself, slowly enjoying the drink he’d ordered previously while he waited for you to clock out, taking small glances at you everytime he could, admiring the way you looked in your work clothes.

Some 15-20 minutes later you finally clocked off of work and headed out, looking for where Scaramouche may be seated if he decided to stay and wait for you. For a moment you worried he’d just up and left, but you quickly saw him in the corner of your eye, watching and waiting for you to finally join him.

As you approached him you noticed the way his neutral expression turned to a smirk, the way he seemed to eye you up and down, taking in every little detail of your body. As you sat down across from him he eagerly ordered two shots, sliding one to you, “So, you worked here for long?” he asked casually as you downed your shot.

“Hm.. only a few months at this point, 6 or so I think.” you responded after thinking for a moment, for some reason being so honest with this stranger you just met, perhaps his almost unrealistic beauty just had you in a trance.

The two of you continued chatting for some time, buying drinks for one another and slowly downing them one by one till both of you were tipsy. You were nearly drunk at this point but Scaramouche made sure to keep himself at least a little sober so he could take advantage of this great opportunity.

He stood up and took your hand “You’re awfully drunk, how about you come home with me?” he suggested, you quickly agreed in your drunken state, and that was exactly what he wanted. It was pathetic how easy you were when he got some drinks in your system, but he also found it almost cute.

Scaramouche helped you back to his house, unlocking the door and ushering you in as quick as he could, silently thanking god that he didn’t live far from the club with how you kept stumbling. As soon as you both stepped into his house he pushed you up against the wall and began desperately making out with you, the taste of alcohol lingering on your tongues.

You didn’t stop him as you wrapped arms around him and tangled your fingers into his dark indigo locks, maybe because you couldn’t due to your drunkenness or maybe because you didn’t want to. His hands wandered over your body hungrily as you deepened the kiss, groping at your ass and tits as much as he could.

As you both passionately make out he lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as his hands rest on your ass as he carries you towards his bedroom, not breaking the kiss as his tongue explores your mouth with desperation. You could feel the way his bulge pressed against your clothed pussy with the way he held you, the warmth of his body making you feel hot and so very bothered.

He carried you into his bedroom, laying you back on his bed as he finally broke the kiss and hovered over you, looking over your lying form beneath him. He couldn’t hold back any longer as he began prying at your clothes, you too began prying at his. Desperately stripping each other of your clothes as you chase after what you both desire so deeply, within seconds you were both naked.

Slowly he peppered kisses down your neck, taking in the scent and warmth of your skin as his tongue and lips began exploring your body. His lips traveled lower and lower till they met your breasts, to which he took your nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it while pinching at the other. Small whimpers of pleasure escaped your lips at his ministrations, the desire within you slowly becoming overbearing as you rubbed your thighs together for any sort of friction.

“No. You do what I say” he commanded harshly as he released your nipples, earring a small whine from you as he sat up and spreading your thighs to stop you from pleasuring yourself. He wants to torment you, break you down and build you up again until he’s all you want, until he is the only one who can satisfy you.

Looking down at your form he silently admired the sight of you pussy, already so wet and eager for him, oh it was truly a sight for sore eyes. He trailed a finger up your fold, to which you instinctively tried to grind into for any sort of relief from your growing arousal. Your attempts were wet with a harsh slap on your pussy.

“Behave yourself, slut.” Scaramouche spoke in a harsh and dark tone, one that sent shivers down your spine and made you immediately obey his commands as you nodded. He went back to teasing your leaky cunt, slowly circling your clit at an almost excruciating pace, making you so desperate for any sort of pleasure.

A whine fell from your lips “please, need more” you cried out while remaining still as to not disobey the orders he’d previously given. It was almost pathetic, the way you drunkenly begged for more, it only made him want to torment you more. How he'd love to see tears trail down your cheeks as you beg for his cock.

At your desperate plea he indulged, but only a little as he shoved two fingers inside of you without warning. The little gasp of surprise you made sent him reeling, he wanted more, no he NEEDED more. He began fingering you slowly, watching as you bit your lip. He leaned in close, whispering into your ear “Beg like a good girl If you want more.”

“Please, Scaramouche… need more- please” you begged, and he had to give in. How could he not when you begged so prettily for him? When you sounded so fucking perfect calling his name like that.

“Good girl” he murmured as he increased the pace, his fingers slamming into your greedy cunt at a fastened pace, eliciting pretty little moans from you. He enjoyed every second of it as he leaned it and began trailing hickeys down your neck, you were all his now. Moaning like a whore on his fingers while he marked you up, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

At his quickened pace you steadily approached your orgasm, that knot in your stomach growing tighter and tighter by the second, but as it almost snapped he pulled away. “Wait- don’t stop, I was about to cum!” You whined out, a mixture of desperation and annoyance at how he ruined your orgasm.

He sat up and watched your expression closely as he eagerly licked your slick off of his own fingers, a small groan falling from his lips as his fingers left his mouth. “You taste so fucking good” he murmured as he moved between your legs, positioning his cock at your soaking wet hole, “and I bet you’ll feel even better” he said with a smirk as he entered you with one quick thrust.

You moaned out in both pleasure and pain as he thrusted in, your tight walls slowly adjusting to his size as he remained still for a short moment, but that moment was incredibly short. He took it slow, taking his time to reach the deepest parts of your pussy and feel the way your wet warmth envelopes him.

His slow and deep thrusts slowly became faster, turning almost animalistic as he pounded into you. “You feel so fucking good” he moaned out, losing all semblances of paintence and care as he drove himself deeper into, your moans drivinf him absolutely wild with need.

“I’m going to fucking ruin you” he said in such a dark yet lustful voice as he grabbed you by the thighs and folded you in half, wrapping his arms around you and trapping your thighs against your chest, thrusting into you with absolute abandon as he chased his release.

“Scara- scara!” You cried out as his quickened pace made you dizzy, seeing stars every time his tip hit that one spot inside you, each thrust driving you wild with pleasure. He took it a step further, snaking one hand between your bodies and teasing your clit while still holding you tight with the other arm.

Pure ecstasy is what you felt, your ruined orgasm finally catching up to you as you came undone. Your walls fluttered and throbbed around his cock as you moaned his name in an almost pornographic way. Back arching while your hands dug into the bedsheet tightly.

“Fuck! That’s it” he called out, the way your tight walls throbbed around him sent him over the edge, his thrusts growing sloppy as he came. Shooting ropes of thick hot cum deep inside your womb and pussy, groaning in utter delight at how hard you made him cum.

He pulled out of you and loosened his grip around you, letting your legs finally relax as he sat up and looked down at you. Drunk and utterly fucked out, he adored the sight more than words could describe. He almost went for a second round when his cum started dripping from your messy hole, the sight was almost too erotic for him, but he decided to let you rest now. Maybe you’d continue wanting to see him once you sobered up, or maybe you wouldn’t remember.

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primaviva · 8 months

Text

PERSONAL HEATER

PAIRING: gwen stacy x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: it’s getting a little cold in queens, and gwen doesn’t mind being your personal heater. even tho her methods are… unique.

WARNINGS: soft makeout, rambling about gwens hands part ??? pretty much just fluff so enjoy.

the weather was transitioning into fall, bringing a noticeable chill to the air. you and gwen found yourselves perched atop a building, observing the sky as it transformed from a warm orange hue to a deep indigo during the sunset. the past week had been marked by relentless rain, causing flash floods and heavy downpours throughout the city. everyone was equipped with boots and oversized umbrellas, their clothes drenched from the constant showers.

don’t get it twisted, you love this type of weather. watching the rain out the window, getting comfy and cozy under a blanket watching a fall movie, and so on. but it did have its cons.

like for one, how cold it is.

but that didn’t stop you from enjoying the weather, and gwen knew that. and so, she sent you a text, telling you to be ready and that she was coming over. what you didn’t expect was for ghost-spider to be outside your window with a hand out for you.

and that’s how you ended up where you are now. gwen had taken you to one of her favorite high places in queens— a place she also knew you enjoyed which is why she loved to take you so many times. especially, during times like this where the weather was breathtaking in its own beautiful way.

as a gentle breeze sent shivers down your spine, goosebumps formed on your arms, causing your skin to grow cold. you instinctively rubbed your arms in an attempt to generate some warmth, catching gwen's attention.

"feeling cold?" gwen asked sweetly, noticing your discomfort. she gracefully slid her toned arm around your waist, pulling you closer to her. her hands began to rub your arms in a comforting motion, enveloping you in her soothing warmth. "you're freezing," she whispered against your skin, planting a tender kiss on your cheek. the touch of her lips sent a delightful tingling sensation through your body, contrasting with the chill in the air. "you shouldn't have dressed up in just a skirt and that sad excuse of a sweater."

your eyebrows furrowed, annoyance flickering in your gaze as you shot her a playful glare in response to her comment about your outfit.

"hey!" you quipped, turning your head to face her, ready to offer a witty retort. however, the raised eyebrow she flashed at you caused your irritation to melt away, replacing it with a giggle. "i wore this skirt for you, so i’m not tryna hear it," you playfully declared, turning your gaze forward and playfully tugging at your skirt. "but now, i'm starting to regret it. my legs feel like those icicles hanging from car mirrors."

as you leaned against gwen, you could feel the steady rhythm of her heartbeat against your back, her body pressed intimately against yours. the breeze outside was chilly but gwen's body was anything but.

a mischievous glint danced in gwen's eyes as she pulled you even closer, burying her face in your shoulder. "for me?" she asked, her voice laced with playfulness. "why would you even regret wearing that skirt? you look so pretty in it."

blushing, you instinctively covered your cheeks in an attempt to hide your flustered state.

"i know," you replied, a hint of newfound confidence in your voice, though your veins pulsed with nervous energy at her compliment. "but it doesn't make my legs any less cold."

gwen smiled to herself without offering a direct response. instead, she reached for the end of her white gloves, seamlessly blending with her spider suit, and pulled them down to the edge of her fingertips. you watched in awe as her hands, slightly larger than yours, were unveiled. you couldn't deny that her hands were a mesmerizing sight. the contrast in size between your hands due to your height difference fascinated you. you also found yourself captivated by the delicate web of visible veins and the gentle calluses on her fingers, which added a touch of personality and undeniable attractiveness. especially considering you were the girlfriend of a drummer.

"maybe i should warm them up," gwen winked, her gaze filled with a playful suggestion. she placed her hands on your legs, and your eyes widened as you felt the warmth of her palms against your skin. you were beginning to feel like a melting popsicle.

gwen's hands glided up and down your legs, generating heat through the gentle friction of her touch. each slow and tender stroke sent shivers down your spine, making it difficult to focus on anything other than the sensation of her calloused fingertips and the delightful stirrings they made you feel.

"that's... that's actually working," you mumbled, your gaze fixated on her hands as they caressed your thighs, leaving a trail of penetrating warmth with each stroke. "feels nice."

"it does?" gwen asked, genuine surprise evident in her voice. she made no effort to conceal her pleased demeanor as she continued to stroke your thighs. each movement was deliberate and firm, her fingers teasing the sensitive flesh of your skin with every caress. unable to resist, you tilted your head to the side, leaning against her to draw closer.

you lifted your head, meeting gwen's gaze in surprise. her eyes locked onto yours as she continued lazily rubbing your thighs, taking in your beauty with an appreciative gaze. her hair cascaded in a messy yet enchanting manner, the short strands framing her face and making her watercolor eyes glow as they delved into your soul. a smile graced your lips, followed by an exhale that formed a white mist in the freezing weather.

gwen's gaze intensified, her eyes fixed on your full lips, captivated by your bottom lip gently pushed out. slowly, she leaned in, her warm hands gradually shifting away from your cold thighs as your bodies drew closer together.

with only centimeters between your lips, gwen's breath danced teasingly against yours, contrasting with the cold air that brushed against your exposed arms. as her attention shifted from your thighs to your lips, you held your breath, anticipation coursing through your veins, eager to discover her next move.

her hair cascaded over her shoulders as she smiled warmly, a mischievous smirk stretching across her face.

"don't worry," gwen assured you, her voice filled with confidence. "i've got an idea."

with boldness, she leaned forward, placing a hand behind your head, drawing your faces closer together. closing the remaining short distance, her lips gently met yours, initiating a tender yet passionate kiss.

gwen skillfully parted your lips with her tongue, delicately exploring your cold mouth, savoring the sweet yet familiar taste of your lips. her grip on the nape of your neck tightened, pulling you closer as she sensually sucked on your lower lip, causing a surge of warmth and desire to rush through your veins. her breath, warm against the chilled sensation inside your mouth, created an intoxicating contrast, yet you still instinctively rocked your body against hers.

the moment felt surreal, almost dream-like, as gwen's warmth enveloped you, sending waves of relief coursing through every fiber of your being. your heart raced within your chest, your breath quickened with each passing second, as you savored every exquisite second of gwen's soft lips against yours. your hands tenderly ran through her hair, taking in her beauty.

she continued to kiss you, pulling you even closer, melding you two together. the heat emanating from her body warmed you from head to toe, your heart pounding in your chest, and your breath quickening with each passing moment.

gwen released a satisfied sigh against your lips, causing the goosebumps on your legs to dissolve into a thrilling warmth. it felt as though you were melting under her touch. from your ankles to your thighs, and all the way up to your chest, a surge of heat and fire coursed through your wintry skin, extinguishing the chill.

reluctantly, gwen pulled away, leaving a faint imprint of her lips on yours. "better?" she asked you, her voice barely above a whisper.

"sooo much better," you managed to utter, your hands instinctively holding the sides of her face. your own face blazed with heat, contrasting with the cold breeze that brushed against your skin.

gwen tilted her head, her gaze fixed on your flushed cheeks, a slight blush gracing her own face. she felt a sense of pride for her bold actions, knowing the courage it took to lean in and initiate the whole thing.

"glad to be of service," she sighed, her eyes sparkling with joy. moving closer, she pressed your head against her chest, her fingers running through your hair.

there was something primal about her touch, something that made you feel safe and secure as she enveloped you. her warm skin pressed against your cold frame, leaving a trail of sultriness wherever her hands roamed. your lips curled into a smile as you looked up at her, appreciative of how observant and gentle she is with you.

"maybe we should head inside now?" gwen suggested, rubbing her hands together.

you scoffed, noticing that she, too, was affected by the cold. "yeah, it's getting late, and i'm not tryna die of hypothermia," you muttered.

gwen giggled before wrapping her arms around you, rubbing them against your body to generate as much heat as possible.

she then pulled back, slipping her white gloves back on. your eyes followed her movements as she adjusted her web slinger on her wrist, her long and slender fingers working meticulously. the blonde shot you a look, raising an eyebrow and tilting her mouth to the side, giving you the feeling she was about to do something you wouldn’t like too much.

"what?" you mouthed, a small laugh escaping your lips as you observed her mischievous expression.

however, gwen remained silent, her actions speaking louder than words. she scooped you up in her arms, holding you in a bridal embrace, and you gasped in surprise. pausing to gaze down at your face, a blush tinted her cheeks as she admired your beauty.

"i can't let my beautiful girlfriend freeze to death," she whispered in response, jokingly.

"i can't stand you," you mumbled playfully, hiding your face behind your hands.

"oh, really?" she teased, a playful glimmer in her eyes.

with a sly smirk, she wiggled her eyebrows and leaned down, her lips hovering near your ear.

"and just in case you get cold again," she murmured, her warm breath sending shivers down your spine, "i don't mind being your personal heater."

god, she was going to be the death of you.

with effortless strength, she held you with one hand while the other pulled down her mask. shooting a web towards the nearest building, she initiated the familiar routine. you clung to her tightly, burying your head in the crook of her neck, holding on for dear life.

if gwen hadn't already melted your heart with her soft touch and her warm smile, then she definitely had now.

DO NOT STEAL, COPY, OR TRANSLATE MY WORK. ALL WRITING IS @PRIMAVIVA.

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merakiui · 2 years

Text

thinking about yandere!scaramouche & somnophilia.

(cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, somnophilia, non-con)

it starts small at first. feeling your heart through the soft cloth of your clothes. tracing your pulse through your wrist or your neck. sometimes you’ll stir under his careful touch, and he’ll draw back briefly, wondering if you’d be unnerved to see him looming over you in the dark, indigo irises glinting. but then you’ll resign yourself to deep slumber once again and he’s free to continue counting your heartbeats. he does this every night (or he tries to do it every night). the nights in which you travel are often restless. you’ll stay up late tending to the fire, assembling resources you gathered throughout the day, drying your clothes if you happened to get caught in a rainstorm and couldn’t get to shelter quick enough. scaramouche’s favorite nights are the ones spent in the serenitea pot because there are no outside interruptions. it’s just you and him inside this comfortable slice of space.

at some point, feeling your heartbeat and knowing of when your dreams are good and bad isn’t enough. he’s heard many stories while traveling alongside you, passing through bustling cities, quaint villages, lively ports, where he happens to eavesdrop on bits and pieces of scattered conversations. he overhears stories of marriage, stories of the miracle that is childbirth, and the grousings of weary sailors, fishermen, and merchants. perhaps these glimpses of human life are what make him think of the future and what such a thing looks like with you by his side.

scaramouche browses the many books a merchant has to offer and opens one to a random page. it details a mystical kiss that woke someone from eternal slumber. it’s a childish notion—the mere idea that a kiss could hold such power is unbelievably foolish. still, scaramouche finds himself purchasing the book with you in mind. he admires the pretty cover while you haggle prices with a fruit vendor. he’d like to try kissing.

and when he’s certain you’ve fallen asleep and he checks your even heartbeat, he leans in to press his lips against yours. the first few times are merely experimental. you don’t wake like the character in the novel. in fact, you hardly stir. scaramouche feels incredibly let down. the book lied and raised his hopes for nothing. so he kisses your cheek and then your forehead, but neither have the same effect. nothing feels as intimate as lip-on-lip connection. so he kisses you again, awkwardly, sloppily, and when you stir he retreats so fast he kicks himself for acting so silly.

the next night he kisses you it’s with more confidence. your lips are always so soft and warm. you look so peaceful when he studies your sleeping expression. sometimes your lips are parted; sometimes you drool. sometimes you lay sprawled. sometimes you’re hugging a pillow. despite the many positions you assume, despite whatever you look like while sleeping, he still manages to kiss you.

and at some point he finds himself growing bolder, falling into a risky habit. he wants to see how far he can go before you wake. so his lips trail down to your neck next, and he presses the softest, sweetest kisses along your pulse, feeling it thrum under his mouth. sometimes his teeth graze your flesh and he considers biting hard enough to leave a lasting mark, but he knows that would certainly wake you. so he rewards your sleeping form with plenty of gentle kisses. he’d never do such a thing if you were awake. you’d certainly think he’s grown soft around you, which is most certainly not true (a grand lie he tells himself, mind you).

scaramouche wants to kiss your heart next. his fingers work deftly to slide your shirt up, cold hands holding your hips down, and he places his ear against that special space where your heart is enclosed, and he listens to your steady heartbeat. he’ll kiss that place a dozen times, cherishing every beat under a single kiss. and sometimes, without realizing it, his hand will entwine with yours and he’ll spend an hour above you, kissing nearly every inch of you: your heart, your throat, your shoulder, the space between your ribs.

scaramouche learns rather quickly that your body reacts pleasantly to his lingering touches. and when he learns that your heart rate picks up when his hands wander and his kisses become more intimate and he slides his tongue along the softest spots on your body, he realizes your heart does more than simply pump blood and give life. it provides answers to unspoken questions.

the next time he kisses you it’s on your most private area, and he bullies this area the most with kisses and licks, his hands holding your thighs apart, while he listens to you whimper and whine softly in your sleep. he’s certain your dreams will always be pleasant if he’s constantly touching you every night. scaramouche loves every inch of you, down to the very heart that beats for him. only him. after all, there’s no one else who could possibly elicit such sweet sounds from your pretty, kissable lips. not that there would ever be anyone who could do such things to you. scaramouche won’t allow it.

the next time he kisses you, your eyes flutter open. scaramouche has finally mastered the kiss that will wake his sleeping sweetheart.

#meraki thirsts #yandere scaramouche #tw: somnophilia #tw: noncon #n/sfw

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is-the-snake-video-cute · 10 months

Note

fellow snake enthusiast here! i’m considering getting an eastern indigo snake in the near future (literally my childhood dream) and i’m weighing the pros and cons. just wondering your two cents on indigos? would you personally own one?

thanks!

Oh, I would just adore an eastern indigo. I'd have one in a heartbeat. I've only gotten to work with indigoes in a limited capacity, but they've been a delight every time, and I have more experience with other cribos and they're similarly wonderful. I used to have a blacktail cribo who was one of the best snakes I've ever known, I miss him every day.

Pros and cons -

They're super expensive. Eastern indigoes are endangered and their trade is (rightfully) highly limited to prevent the poaching of wild snakes. All of them are going to be captive-bred, but they're hard to find and you will need to pay a lot - plan on a couple thousand dollars unless you get very lucky.

Be sure to check your local laws. Indigo snakes are not legal to own in some areas, especially in their native range.

They are big, active snakes, and they are messy. Plan on a 5-7 foot long adult. You will need a huge enclosure and you'll need to clean it a lot! My old cribo used to, like, literally paint the walls with poop. It was easily the worst thing about him.

They are smart, and this can be both a pro and a con. They're easy to train and engaging to work with, but they also need some mental stimulation and lots of enrichment or they can get restless and grouchy.

Their care is not demanding, as long as they have moderate humidity and relatively low basking temperatures, they're fine. Might be a bit tricky for beginner keepers but if you're experienced their care is easy. They're also phenomenal eaters!

I can't overstate how fun they are to work with. They're sweet, engaging snakes to handle and are just an absolute blast to hang out with!

Like I said, I'd have an indigo in a heartbeat, and the only thing keeping me from owning one is cost and availability. Aside from that, it's also worth noting that you'll need to dedicate a lot of time to their enrichment and cleaning, even after setting up a large (and likely very costly) enclosure for them.

Indigoes and other cribos are awesome, but there are reasons they're not more popular pets.

#not a rating #pet snake advice #indigo snakes #cribos

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historiaxvanserra · 11 months

Note

hate fuck with Eris x reader pls!

HATE FUCK | ERIS VANSERRA

18+ please bitches. It's porn with minimal plot.

Warnings: enemies (ish) to lovers, established relationship, sort of dub-con (not really).

also i know the prompt was hate fuck but for some reason it came out more like two idiots in love but no one wants to admit it. don't judge me.

Sapphire skies melt into a darkening indigo as the last rays of sun sink below the backdrop of The Forest House and the sound of gentle orchestral music is a symphony in the crisp Autumn air.

The sea of dancing bodies inside the main hall glitter like a jewel toned wave as the chandeliers light kisses the Ladies' tiaras and dresses adorned in crystals.

From the outside looking in, this is a world away from the home you had grown up in. The Windhaven camp had not been kind to you, a half-breed woman of low birth.

Had Rhysand's mother not taken pity on you, this life would have been little more than a fever dream; the opulent dresses, and expensive wines, decadent parties and indulgent companions.

It may be beautiful but there is no denying the ostentation of it all. All of this grandeur and ceremony when the common folk still want.

Still suffer and starve while the aristocracy live in a world where hedonism is revered and indulgence is praised.

You imagine none of these people have ever known what it truly is to want.

Before you are able to abandon yourself to the thought your attention falls onto the figure emerging from the main doors.

They're swathed in shadow and from your place against the fountain you can just about make out that it is a Male who descends the steps with an otherworldly grace. He's tall and broad. And the strands of his unbound hair billow in the wind behind him in a silken drape.

As the figure stalks through the grounds and rounds the corner at the fountain he is bathed in the golden-hued faelight from the patio.

Eris Vanserra.

He walks with purpose towards you and as he falls into view you can't help but admire the way his skin shines like opal in the moonlight, or the way his face, half-shadowed, seems to hold some dark and ancient knowledge.

He's beautiful in a way that reminds you of old Gods, long forgotten. It's a strange and harsh type of beauty. And you hate him for it.

He has the kind of face that could bring cities to their knees and he knows it.

Eris Vanserra carries his beauty like a burden; he's all arrogance and self-loathing. A tempting oxymoron. And you hate him for it.

"Did no one tell you it's in poor taste to abscond from a party before your hosts?" The Autumn Prince sneers, furrowing his brow as he takes you in.

You hate him.

"Clearly you people know very little of good taste," You retort, digging you heel into the dirt beneath your barefeet and tilting your chin in defiance.

Eris eyes you carefully, a small smirk ghosting his face. His painfully beautiful face.

Why does he have to be so damned ethereal? And fierce. It's perverse and wholly confusing.

"And what is that supposed to mean, love?" he asks in feigned courtesy as he inclines his head towards you.

You hate him.

"Do you know that for one of those pretty dresses," You say pointing through the large window into the ballroom that glitters ruby and topaz, "you could afford to feed an entire village?.

Eris' broad shoulders visibly stiffen at the venom in your tone as you turn your gaze back onto him.

"I didn't know that," he swallows thickly. Perhaps learning to finally swallow some of his pride.

"Of course you didn't," you laugh bitterly, "you have never known what it is to go without."

"To be left wanting."

The laugh your words tear from him lights a fire in you, that signature louche quality he has to him. Total indifference. Tainted with something else. Something dark and base. It burns you in the most masochistic sort of way.

You hate him.

"Believe me, little girl," he spits, taking one long stride towards you so that his chest is inches from yours, "I know what it is to want."

He's half-breathless as he turns his darkening amber eyes upon you.

Gods, he looks like divine in this light. Like some sort of fallen angel. Ephemeral and cruel.

"And what do you want, Eris?" You eye him carefully, the rise and fall of his chest and the sheen of sweat that coats the exposed planes of skin under his shirt.

The way he looks at you then is enough to bring you to your knees. He moves like a predator, silent and resolute and his eyes glint against the black. Wild and dark.

"I want," He rasps as he cages you between strong arms, "You." his breath is hot as it fans your face.

Heat coils in your stomach and spreads through you like a wildfire.

"I hate you." You remind him.

Eris chuckles darkly, taking your chin between his thumb and index finger and forcing you to look at him.

The air is laden with the smell of him. Sandalwood and birch. Stained darker by the scent of his arousal.

"and yet," He whispers against the shell of your ear, like it is a secret shared between two lovers.

"You want me too."

His kiss is harsh and just a little painful, all teeth and tongue as he fights for dominance. His hands rest on your hips, fingers brusing the tender flesh beneath.

He wants to mark you. Wants to leave behind the remnants of his desire. To remind you of who you belong to. Belong with.

Your hands find purchase on his shoulders and as he deepens the kiss they become entangled in his long auburn hair.

The sound that leaves him is something akin to a growl. It's dark and animalistic. Claiming.

He tears his mouth from yours and you're left breathless and aching for him.

The way his teeth come to graze your neck feels like sin. And you find yourself begging. For release. For him. You're not entirely sure.

You had sworn you hated him but when his large hands come to rest on the exposed skin of your thigh you're not entirely sure where the line between love and hate began to blur.

Eris' laugh is cruel and taunting as his hands play with the hem of your pretty dress.

It shines like quartz every time the clouds clear and the crystal refracts in the moonlight.

"I wonder how many villages I could feed with this, hm?". Eris whispers to you as one hand continues his ascent up your exposed thigh and the other begins to pull at the restricting fabric.

For a moment he suffices to bunch the fabric at your waist but when the tight material reaches the apex of your thighs you find it constricting and unhelpful.

The tearing of fabric fills the night air followed by a sharp inhale of breath as Eris lifts you from the ground, your back slamming into the stone wall with an uncomfortable pressure.

"You ripped my favourite dress!" You complain, your hand flying to steady yourself against Eris' solid form as he holds you in his bruising grip.

"I'll buy you a hundred more," He promises against your lips, his teeth nipping at the sulk of your lower lip, "and for every one, I'll feed a hundred villages."

His promises are not empty ones. This you know. You and Eris have been doing this dance for longer than you care to admit.

You learned early on that there is a fine line between love and hate and with Eris that line is one crossed frequently. With reckless abandon. It is a line you crossed willingly, and you would do so again, in an instant because--

"Just let me have you." Eris' urgent hands finally hit their mark at the apex of your thighs, rubbing slow circles through the thin material of your panties.

"You have me," You remind him drawing him into a kiss, much more ardent and longing than the previous biting "so take me."

Wordlessly Eris lifts you against the wall once more, the gritty surface a cruel juxtaposition against the smooth expanse of your back.

Angling your hips as he frees his aching cock from his riding pants you moan into his mouth as he pulls gently at your lower lip.

His hot breath against your face, the heat building in your stomach from the ministrations of his deft fingers is of little consequence when you feel the thick tip of him pressing against your entrance.

"Fuck, love." Eris voice is a low growl in your ear as he sinks into you, your walls fluttering around him like a velvet vice when you feel him pressing against that sweet spot deep inside of you.

"So good for me," he coos as he thrusts harshly into you. His hips digging into yours with such force that causes your whole body to shake as he resumes those slow, torturous circles on your clit.

"I hate you," You remind him. You remind yourself.

"I hate you too," The way he says it is loaded with something else, something hidden. All the words you could not say.

Eris sets a brutal pace as he fucks into you, his breaths coming in sporadic succession as he nears his own release.

You feel your own imminent orgasm as it begins to wash over you. Eris brushes a stray hair away from your face as he holds your weight in his strong arms as he continues his assault on your aching cunt.

"That's it pretty love," He whispers, his words simple yet filled with something akin to adoration and much too far from the usual menace that marks his words, "cum on my cock."

Eris' encouragement is all the permission you need as you give into the wave of euphoria that washes over you like a tidal wave. The world blurs at its edges as Eris fucks you through your orgasm, chasing his own release.

"I hate you," You say airily, biting into the skin of his neck in a futile attempt to muffle the sounds of your pleasure as it breaks apart in your mouth.

Eris comes with a thunderous moan that pulls at your heart in a way that terrifies you. The feeling of his seed spilling out of your pulls you back to reality.

Eris laughs once more bringing you into another burning kiss. Only this time he is more deliberate and tender with you.

"I hate you too."

#eris vanserra #acotar x reader #acotar #eris x you #eris x reader #eris vanserra x you #eris acotar #eris headcanons #eris vanserra x reader

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