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hellinistical · 2 days

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fem! reader x rafayel. royal! au. sea horror! au. heavy angst. minor and major character death. slow burn. romance. fluff. explicit smut. trauma. religious themes. gore; hinted torture, cannibalism, decapitation, self-cannibalism. violence. wc: 4796 | status: on-going

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II: GOLD STRUCK

The wagon wheels were obviously wobbly, the axles needing immediate tightening, not that anyone would care to repair them, though. The rainy season was in full effect, and the roads were the sky’s first victim. A dog chased after a squirrel, it’s barking annoying the merchant nearby. He cursed the dog and his bloodline.

“To hell with Linkon! To hell with this damned town!” His broom thwacked at the wood sign on his stall. “When I catch you, you damned dog, why, you’ll be roasted with your litter!”

“Oh Mr. Heggins, relax! It’s just a dog!” “Just a dog? Why you- you let him out, didn’t you, Caleb? I should get you fired from the mines for this!”

Caleb laughed, crow's feet forming by his eyes as he smiled big. His hands held orchids. He had picked them from his mother's garden earlier that morning, meticulously picking the best ones without her knowing. In his pocket, a small box rested.

Mr. Heggins eyes note the flowers and the small lump in his pocket.

“Today's the day, eh?”

Caleb nodded, his cheeks tinging with red.

“Yes, sir. I plan to ask tonight.”

“Ah, before the king's carriages come? Bad timing, no?”

“No, sir.”

It's quiet for a moment before the old man speaks up.

“And out of everyone you could have, you chose the L/n's daughter.” He lets out a pitiful chuckle. “I won't question it, but to each their own.”

As the old man walked off, Caleb hummed, his hand going to his pocket, patting it affectionately as he walked on through the streets.

He grabbed some pumpkin bread, the honey, and roasted almonds on it making it smell heavenly.

He collected some gifts. A doll, a kite, perfumes, and a watch.

And then he headed off towards Linkon's hill village.

*** Hot water splashed onto the weathered wood floorboards, the basin full to the brim. Sprigs of lavender, rosemary, and orange slices floated on the water, and Mrs. L/n poured fresh milk into the tub.

“Is this really necessary?” Y/n huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m not getting in there- I won’t even be selected.” “Yes, you are. And I’m tired of you not listening to me.” “Mother- owowowowowowow!”

The older woman grabbed her ear, pinching it lightly as she pulled her daughter towards the tub. Y/n held onto the wall, protesting. “I’m not going in there you; put milk in there! It’ll feel weird!” “Take the damn bath, child! Eva! Call your sisters and come here!”

“Coming, Mother!”

In moments, Y/n’s sisters came into the room. Eva smiled cheekily. “Today’s the day~!” “Like hell it is.” She shot back, wriggling in her mother’s grip. “You all act like you want me to get picked! Does Gran even know what you’re doing? Ma?” Her mother looked away, her hands going to the clasp on the back of Y/n’s dress. She undid it quickly, and the fabric pooled at her feet, ignoring her question.

“Strip out of your garments- Gods, you reek- is this wool? Y/n! You messed with the sheep again!” “I did not! I was with the ram- hey!” She placed her hand on the back of her head, the sting from her mother’s popping strong.

Lucy laughed, her chubby hands taking the stripped clothes to the wash.

“You’ve all gone mad. I hope you know that.” It comes out as a grumble, but she goes into the tub. But as soon as she stepped in, she complained. “The water’s freezing!” “That’s what you get for talking so long.” Her mother quipped. Her face sours as an orange slice touches her knee.

Raising her leg, Eva takes it, scrubbing it down as her mother starts to work on her hair. She hisses, her scalp tender as it gets scrubbed as well.

“The weather is lovely, isn’t it?” “Just dandy.”

“What time is it?” “Half after 12, mother.” “Lord! We need to hurry then.” “Did you always have such a strawberry complexion, sister?” Y/n kicks water at her sister. “Quiet, you-”

She’s interrupted by her mother pouring a bucket of water over her head. Her hair gets thrown in her face, and she swallows some soapy, milky water, sputtering and coughing.

“Both of you, quiet. I’ll be damned if our good name is tarnished because you both decide to act like Neanderthals.

Y/n coughed out some more water. “I think calling me a Neanderthal isn’t fair- but Eva on the other hand- Oh my fucki- can you stop getting soap in my eyes?!”

“Language!”

***

Y/n shivers as she steps out of the basin, her arms crossed, knees turned, and locked.

Some of the rosemary was tangled in her hair, but she paid it no mind.

Wrapping a towel around her body, Eva grabbed a comb, getting to work on untangling the knots and rosemary in her hair.

“This is ridiculous.”

“You would still get picked if you were covered in cow shit, so cease your bitching,” her mother shot back, not missing a beat as she scrubbed her daughter’s hair with renewed vigor.

Y/n's mouth dropped open, and she groaned. “You’re impossible!”

But her mother only raised an eyebrow. “And yet, here you are, complaining like always.”

Lucy waddled into the room, her small arms bundled up with a light blue chemise gown, the fabric soft and worn from years of storage. The short sleeves were cuffed, and though the dress had once been elegant, it was now out of date- the gaudy stitching showing the era it was from. Y/n’s eyes widened in horror as she realized what Lucy was holding.

“You can’t seriously expect me to—” Y/n began, her voice rising in protest.

But before she could finish, her mother yanked the towel off her body with practiced efficiency. “Of course not,” Mrs. L/n replied, her tone calm and unwavering. “Not until you’ve been plucked.”

Eva stepped forward, smirking as she handed her mother a razor, her grin mischievous. Y/n stared at it, her lips parting in disbelief. “Oh, come on...”

Mrs. L/n motioned for the sisters to leave. Eva, Lucy, and the others filed out, whispering and giggling amongst themselves as they shut the door behind them, leaving the room unusually still. The bright daylight streaming through the window seemed too cheerful for what was about to happen.

Y/n sighed heavily and sat on the small stool, arms wrapped around herself in half-hearted defiance. Her mother wordlessly knelt beside her, taking the razor and beginning the task of smoothing over her skin with slow, deliberate strokes.

For a few moments, the only sound in the room was the quiet scrape of the blade against her skin, the soft splash of water, and the occasional sigh from Y/n. It was a silence filled with things left unsaid, the weight of what was coming pressing on both of them.

Y/n looked down at her hands, picking at a loose thread on the towel. "I still don't think this is going to work. They'll want someone else," she murmured, not meeting her mother's eyes.

Her mother didn't respond immediately, her hands steady as she worked. Finally, she spoke, her voice softer than before. "It’s not about what they want, Y/n. It’s about what you’re worth. Remember, the better you do, the better we all do."

“Why do you want me to get picked so badly?” Y/n asked quietly, her voice trembling despite her attempts to sound nonchalant. “You know I’ll mess up.”

Mrs. L/n paused mid-stroke, her hands hovering for a moment before continuing, the razor gently gliding over her daughter's skin. She didn't meet Y/n’s gaze, but her words were firm.

“I don’t want you to go. What gave you that idea?”

Y/n blinked, caught off guard by the blunt response. Her throat tightened, but she said nothing, the silence suddenly heavy between them.

Her mother’s eyes were fixed on her task, but the strain in her voice betrayed her emotions. “You think I want to see you paraded around like livestock? Gods know I don’t.” She set the razor aside for a moment, finally looking up at Y/n. “But if you’re chosen… at least you’ll be safe.”

Y/n swallowed hard, not knowing what to say. For once, she had no sharp retort.

"...They'll smell the farm on me," Y/n tried to joke, a small smirk tugging at her lips. "And it's not like the town doesn't have a reputation for me."

Mrs. L/n froze, her brow furrowing before she snapped, "Y/n M/n L/n. You will stop talking this instant!" She threw her hands up in exasperation, the razor clattering against the basin. “Ugh, by the Gods, you will jinx yourself, and no amount of rosemary will be able to fix it!”

Y/n bit her lip, stifling a laugh despite the tension in the air. She knew her mother meant well, but the whole situation still felt so surreal—so out of place for someone like her.

There was a knock on the door. Y/n's head snapped toward it, her brows knitting in confusion. Her father’s voice called through the wooden frame, calm and warm as always.

“The boy is here, my loves.”

Y/n frowned. "Caleb? What’s he doing here?"

Mrs. L/n didn’t answer, her focus entirely on finishing the task at hand. She ignored Y/n’s questioning gaze and continued to move the razor carefully, finishing her legs before working up to her cunt.

"Never mind that," her mother finally said, her tone clipped. "We need to finish."

She turned toward the door, calling out in her usual brisk, commanding voice, “There’s a roast in the oven! Check it for me, please!”

“Aye, I will,” her father replied, the sound of his footsteps retreating down the hall.

Y/n slouched slightly on the stool, still puzzled. “He does know today is the collection, right?” Y/n asked, a hint of uncertainty creeping into her voice.

“Perhaps he’s wishing to bid you good luck. But it will have to wait,” her mother replied, still focused on her work.

“Oh.”

Y/n sighed, the thought lingering in her mind. It made sense enough. They had talked about their plans—what they would do if she didn’t get picked. Caleb would take his father’s horse, and they’d ride out of Linkon together. A smile tugged at her lips as she recalled the silly memory of him telling her the same thing every year.

But she hadn’t seen him lately; he was always busy with family matters, tending to the farm, or preparing for whatever life awaited him.

Once Y/n was dressed, she stood stiffly, adjusting the light blue gown that felt foreign against her skin. “I can feel every stitch, Mama.”

“It’s because your skin’s bare. It’s a good feeling. A good thing,” her mother replied, a hint of pride in her voice.

“I’ll get cold easier.”

“Oh please. You weren’t even furry,” her mother teased.

Y/n let out an unexpected laugh, the tension breaking for just a moment. But then the door swung open, and her father stepped in, whistling a cheerful tune.

“There she is. My darlings!” He kissed his wife and then pressed a warm kiss to Y/n’s cheek. He pauses. “You smell like the farm.”

Y/n shot a look at her mother. “Told you so.”

“He's messing with you,” her mother said, rolling her eyes.

Just then, Caleb ducked his head under the doorframe, a bright smile on his face. “Good evening, Mrs. L/n. I’ve brought gifts.”

“Gifts? You shouldn’t have!” her mother exclaimed, a warm smile spreading across her face.

“I wanted to,” Caleb said, his tone sincere.

“Oh, you sweet boy. Come, let’s go talk.” Mrs. L/n took Caleb’s hand, pulling him out of the washroom.

As their eyes met, Caleb’s purple gaze sparkled with a kind of mischief that made Y/n’s heart race. She felt her cheeks heat up but managed to wave, a shy smile breaking through her earlier worries.

Once they left, Y/n found herself alone with her father in the warm, sunlit room. The air was thick with the lingering scents of lavender and rosemary, remnants of her mother’s frantic preparations. Mr. L/n glanced out the door, ensuring it was securely closed before turning to face her, his expression suddenly serious.

“Are you nervous, child?” he asked, his voice low and steady, a contrast to the bustling energy that had just filled the space.

“Nervous?” Y/n echoed, furrowing her brow in confusion. “About today?”

“Hm... no, can’t say I am.” She crossed her arms, trying to project confidence, but the truth was a tangle of emotions lay beneath her surface.

He studied her for a moment, the lines on his face deepening with concern. “You’re a horrible liar. That’s my fault. Should have taught you better.”

“Papa—”

“Listen. You’re no fool. You’ve got a good head on you,” he said, placing a hand on his chin, his thumb tracing the stubble there as he exhaled slowly, the weight of his thoughts pressing down like a storm cloud.

Y/n felt a knot tighten in her stomach, her heart racing as he continued. “That boy is going to propose. And you need to accept.”

Her eyes widened in shock, disbelief flashing across her face. “Huh?”

“That's how you don’t get picked,” he insisted, his tone firm yet gentle, as if trying to shield her from the harsh realities of their world.

“But—”

“Listen to me, child. You need to accept—today. Before it’s too late. Once you’re engaged, they can’t collect you.”

“To Caleb?” she asked, her voice trembling with a mix of hope and uncertainty. The idea danced in her mind like a flickering flame, both enticing and frightening. Would it truly save her?

“Yes!” he affirmed, leaning closer, his eyes locking onto hers with a fervent intensity. “You think we have luck when it comes to this sort of thing? We don’t,” Mr. L/n continued, his voice lowering even further as he leaned closer. “We should have married you to him months ago, but there was never an opportunity. We have the papers. You just need to have some witnesses—”

“You cheated the system?!” Y/n whisper-yelled, her eyes wide with a mix of disbelief and indignation.

“Of course I did!” he replied, a hint of pride breaking through his urgency. “I did it to protect you. You have no idea what they do to the girls they collect. We have to outsmart them.”

“I can’t marry Caleb! Are you crazy? I don’t even want to get married—” Y/n protested, her voice rising in disbelief.

“This isn’t about what you want! You love the boy; he loves you!” Mr. L/n countered, his frustration simmering beneath the surface.

“Yeah, but—” she started, her mind racing as she tried to find the right words.

“Listen to me,” he urged, his voice softening as he stepped closer. “This is about survival. The kingdom doesn’t care about your dreams or desires; they only see you as another name on a list. But if you’re engaged, they can’t touch you.”

Y/n took a deep breath, the reality of her situation weighing heavily on her chest. “What if Caleb doesn’t want this? What if he thinks I’m just using him?”

“Caleb knows—he's been helping orchestrate this!” Mr. L/n interjected, a mix of urgency and relief washing over him.

Y/n’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What do you mean he knows? How could you—?”

“I spoke to him. He understands the situation, Y/n. He’s been looking out for you, and he wants to keep you safe.” Her father’s voice softened, but the intensity of his words remained.

“Caleb is in on this?” she asked, her mind racing. The idea that Caleb had been part of this plan, that he had considered her fate alongside his own, sent her heart racing.

“Yes! He cares for you deeply, and he’s willing to do whatever it takes to protect you,” Mr. L/n explained, a hint of pride- and something else- in his voice.

She closed her eyes for a moment, envisioning Caleb’s kind smile and the playful banter they shared. Could he really be ready for something so serious? The thought of it both terrified and thrilled her.

***

Caleb sat in the dingy dining room of the L/n household, his hand absently resting in his pocket. The scent of roasted meat wafted through the air, mingling with the musty smell of the worn furniture. Truthfully, the L/n farmland was rich and fruitful, bursting with potential, but the home itself felt shabby and neglected.

“Once we’re married, I can fix this place up…” he mumbled to himself, envisioning the changes he could make. The walls painted fresh, new furniture, perhaps even a small garden where Y/n could grow flowers. His heart swelled at the thought.

In the corner of the room, her sisters and mother were clustered together, giggling and gushing over the gifts he had brought—colorful ribbons, handmade trinkets, and sweets. Their excitement filled the air, but Caleb was lost in his own thoughts, barely noticing their chatter.

It wasn’t until Y/n emerged from the washroom, her father beside her, that he realized she was near. His heart skipped a beat as she stepped into the room, her vibrant orange hair catching the light. She looked radiant, even in the simple gown she wore, and a smile spread across his face as their eyes met.

“Good evenin', Y/n,” he greeted, warmth flooding his voice. “You look lovely.”

Y/n’s cheeks flushed as she returned his smile, but there was an uncertainty in her gaze that made him wonder what was going through her mind. He wanted to ask about the selection ceremony, about her feelings, but for now, he simply stood there, hoping the moment would allow for the words to come.

“Er, hello, Caleb,” Y/n replied, her voice slightly shaky but warm.

He chuckled, a playful glint in his purple eyes. “You look like a strawberry.”

Eva snorted from the corner, unable to stifle her laughter. Y/n cleared her throat, determined to hold her ground. “Yes, well, thank you. They’re in season.”

“Are they now?” Caleb’s tone was teasing, and Y/n couldn’t help but smile despite the slight embarrassment. Strawberries weren’t in season, but he enjoyed the banter.

“They are,” she insisted, a spark lighting up her eyes.

“Then I trust you know where the ripe one is?” His gaze was warm, his smile contagious.

Y/n felt her cheeks flush deeper, but before she could respond, he gently took her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. The touch sent a pleasant shiver down her spine. Together, they walked out of the house, the chatter of her family fading behind them.

As they stepped into the sunlit yard, the gentle breeze carried the scent of the sea, mingling with the earthy aromas of the farm. Caleb turned to her, his expression shifting to something more serious. “I’ve been thinking about what’s happening today…”

Y/n’s heart raced. She knew this was the moment to speak up, to share her fears and her father’s plan. But for now, she let the warmth of his hand and the softness of the afternoon settle around them, hoping to find the right words as they moved further from the house and deeper into the lush fields.

“Listen... I wanna marry you—” Caleb began, his tone earnest.

“Yes,” Y/n interrupted, her heart racing.

“What?” His expression shifted, surprise flashing across his face.

“Yes! I’ll marry you,” she declared, her excitement bubbling over.

“Let me finish,” he said, his brow furrowing slightly.

Y/n looked at him, confusion evident in her eyes.

Caleb’s smile faded, replaced by a serious expression. “Y/n. Don’t get me wrong. You’re a beautiful woman. And we’re good friends. But really, it’d be more of an exchange. I’ll marry you. But I want your father’s farm.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

“I mean it,” he pressed, his voice steady but tinged with urgency. “If we’re going to make this work, we need to secure the land. The L/n farm is rich, and with your hand in marriage, I’d have both a partner and a stake in something that could thrive.”

Y/n felt her heart drop. The warmth of the moment had evaporated, replaced by a chill of realization. “You want to marry me for the farm?” she asked, hurt creeping into her voice.

Caleb’s expression hardened, his jaw set. “You thought this wouldn’t have an exchange? Marriage is a contract. I keep you safe, I get the land.”

“I can’t give you what isn’t mine,” Y/n shot back, her voice rising in disbelief.

“Look, you’re inheriting the farm. Your father is old. When I marry you, I inherit the farm instead. You’ll still have your sheep and goats, but I want you to stay in the gardens with the flowers.” He stepped closer, his eyes earnest. “Think about it. I’ll spruce the place up, combine our land. We can make a name for ourselves!”

Y/n stared at him, the weight of his words settling heavily on her shoulders. “You’re talking about my life as if it’s just an asset, Caleb! What if I don’t want to be tied to the farm? What if I want to travel, to explore beyond Linkon?”

He paused, the intensity in his eyes faltering. “But this is our home! This is where our lives are. We can make it better together.”

Caleb’s expression softened momentarily, but he quickly masked it with determination. “I’m not trying to control you! I just see potential—”

“Potential for what? For you to fulfill your dreams at the expense of mine?” Y/n felt anger bubbling inside her. “You’re reducing our relationship to a business deal!”

“I’m trying to think practically!” he insisted, frustration creeping into his voice. “We live in a harsh world, Y/n. If you get chosen today, it could be the end of everything for us. I just want to protect you!.... I care about you. But this isn’t just about us. It’s about doing what’ll be best.”

Silence hung between them, heavy with unspoken words and emotions. Y/n looked at him.

...Why did it feel scripted?

She ignores the brief thought, letting it slip just as quickly as it had arrived. “I need time to think,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

“You don’t have time to think,” Caleb said suddenly, pulling a small box from his pocket. He opened it to reveal a simple yet elegant ring. “I got the ring. Just wear it.”

“You’re kidding,” Y/n replied, disbelief flooding her voice.

“I’m not,” he insisted, his gaze steady.

“Caleb—” she started, but he interrupted her.

“That farm is precious, and your family doesn’t even see it. Just marry me and let me help you.”

Y/n’s heart raced as she stared at the ring. “You can’t just expect me to decide everything right now! This is my life we’re talking about!”

“I know it is! But we’re out of time. If you don’t make a choice before the selection, you could end up as one of those girls, the ones that don't get anything good!”

The gravity of his words settled in her chest like a stone. She thought of the stories her grandmother had told her, the dark legends woven through the village about the gathering and the sacrifices. The idea of becoming one of those girls made her stomach churn.

“Caleb, this isn’t the way,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t want to feel like I’m being sold off or bartered for land.”

“But you wouldn’t be! You’d be marrying someone who loves you, who wants to protect you!” He took a step closer, desperation flickering in his eyes. “Please, just wear the ring. We can figure everything else out together.”

Scripted. It felt so scripted. But why?

Y/n felt torn, her heart battling against her mind. The prospect of safety and partnership clashed with her desire for freedom and choice. “I… I need to think about it,” she said, her voice trembling.

“Look, if you’re not gonna marry me, I can wait for Eva. Or I’ll marry Lorraine—”

“Eva? Lorraine? Excuse me? Them of all people?” Y/n shot back, incredulous. The idea felt like a slap. Lorraine was the village gossip, always getting into trouble and never taking anything seriously. And her sister? Absolutely.

Caleb shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. “I’m just saying, she wouldn’t mind. If you don’t want me, someone else will step in.”

“Right, because that’s how love works,” Y/n snapped, her frustration boiling over. “You can’t just jump from one sister to another like we’re some kind of game to you!”

“It’s not a game!” he argued, stepping closer, the tension thickening the air between them. “This is about survival, Y/n! Don’t you see? You can either have me fighting for you or risk being taken away, offered to the sea. I don’t want to lose you!”

Y/n’s heart raced as she considered his words again, the weight of the impending selection pressing down on her. The fear of the Dark Sea loomed larger than ever. “But I don’t want to feel trapped,” she said, her voice quieter now, almost pleading.

Caleb softened, his expression earnest. “You won’t be trapped with me. We can make it work, and build a life together. Just think about it—before it’s too late.”

As she looked into his eyes, Y/n felt a swirl of emotions—fear, anger, and- disgust? But the thought of marrying him out of desperation gnawed at her conscience. “I need more time- stop saying we don't have it."

“Time is the one thing we don’t have,” he replied, frustration creeping back into his voice. “Please, just wear the ring. Show me you’ll consider this. I can’t bear the thought of you being chosen—”

“Y/n! Come on, we’re waiting for you!” Eva’s voice called from the house, pulling her back to reality.

Caleb took her hand, his grip firm but gentle, as he slid the ring onto her finger. “Insurance. Just in case,” he said, his voice steady despite the uncertainty swirling around them.

Y/n blinked, her heart racing, but before she could respond, laughter echoed from inside the house. Her family had gathered, and when they saw Caleb placing the ring on her finger, their cheers erupted like a sudden storm.

“Oh, look at that!” her mother exclaimed, beaming. “My darling Y/n is engaged!”

Y/n’s eyes widened in shock. “No! Wait!” But the joyous noise drowned out her protests. Eva clapped her hands, and Lucy jumped up and down, her chubby cheeks flushed with excitement.

“Caleb! You clever boy!” Eva gushed. “We knew you’d come through!”

“But you don’t understand—” Y/n started, but her voice was lost in the commotion.

“Come here, you two!” Mrs. L/n pulled Y/n into a tight embrace, tears of joy glimmering in her eyes. “I’m so proud of you, my sweet girl. You’re all grown up!”

Y/n felt the weight of her mother’s affection, but dread settled heavily in her chest. She glanced at Caleb, searching for a flicker of understanding, but he was caught up in the whirlwind of celebration, a victorious grin plastered across his face.

“Now we can start planning the wedding!” her mother continued, clapping her hands together. “This is wonderful news! The whole village will be thrilled!”

Y/n’s heart sank. The idea of a wedding felt like a chain, tightening around her, and the implications of her father’s words crashed over her again. Marrying Caleb was supposed to be a lifeline, a way to escape the selection—but something was off.

“Are you really happy about this?” she whispered to Caleb, who was now being congratulated by her father.

He turned, his expression earnest. “Of course I am. This is our chance. You’ll see.”

But Y/n could only nod, a forced smile on her lips, as the celebration continued around her.

And in the distance, carriages were coming, adorned with the rain clouds.

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 6 hours

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Freebie!!! With good vibes and cookies 🍪🌟

You ordered a spicy chicken wrap and some ice water with lemon, but he wasn't satisfied until you were actually eating. Once he was mollified, he let himself pay attention to his own meal. He had a million questions.

But- he had to tread carefully. It made him feel like he was trying to coax a feral cat. Or disarm a bomb. Two things he'd never been good at. Still, he knew two things now he didn't know before. The kid was healthy and the date of your next appointment.

And you hadn't sent him away. He'd also never seen you eat anything spicy before. Maybe the kid liked spicy food. Or maybe he just never paid attention. "What else are you doing today?" he asked.

"Thought I'd try and get some cleaning done. Try and get some writing done. Take Trigger to the dog park," you answer, pushing a stack of napkins at him when his burger starts to fall apart.

"Thanks- Figured you'd want to go shopping. Get some baby things," he ventured.

You shake your head, "I don't- next week," you tell him. "Had to pay mom's allowance early to keep her over there."

Logan felt himself frown reflexively, "Wade throw in his share?"

You shrug, "You know how it goes. It's not like being Marvel Jesus comes with steady pay. But I have some freelance money coming and- well. It doesn't really matter. It's not-" You break off and shake your head, "I'll figure it out. I always do."

"Y/N," he said, cringing when the growl in his voice made you pull back. "It's not just you that did-"

"You made it pretty clear you didn't want this, Logan," you murmur, looking out the window. "Before I even knew what was happening."

"And if I could, I'd-"

"But you can't," you tell him. "And how am I supposed to know you won't just-" You shake your head and slide out of the booth, leaving your half-finished plate on the table. Stalking back to the ladies room. Hoping he won't follow. Not right now.

Fuck. He scrubbed his hands over his face and gulped down his drink, signaling for another to show he wasn't leaving and followed you. If diplomacy wasn't doing it- if words were going to keep getting him in trouble- it was time to try something else. He was just glad the bar was dead.

_______________

He opened the door carefully and found you leaning on the sink. Griping the counter so hard your knuckles were white. And he spun you around, hefting you up as he reached behind him and locked the door.

"I'm a fucking idiot," he growled, claiming your mouth in a kiss that burned his lips as he pushed your knees apart to stand between your legs. "I panicked like a stupid kid," he said, pulling back and resting his forehead on yours, giving you space to tell him 'no'. "I thought it would be better for you if I walked away from you. And now every time I look at you I can't fuckin' breathe."

He can hear your heart. He can smell tears welling up. But your hands are fisted in his shirt. And he rests his forehead on yours. "Listenin' to you tell people this ain't my kid- that you don't know who their daddy is," he huffed a laugh. "Fuck. I know it doesn't hurt as bad as what I did but- it's a gut punch, Princess."

"I'm so fucking mad at you," you tell him, voice breaking. "And I'm so fucking scared."

"Hey," he breathed, cradling your face in his hands and wiping tears away with his thumbs, "shhh." He kissed you again, more gently this time, "I'm not goin' anywhere, baby. Okay? I'm gonna show you that. I just need you to give me one more chance."

#wolverine #wolverine x reader #ask answered #minors dni #reader insert #writer!reader

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itsnotbird · 1 day

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Orphic ~ File 6

Kalon (adj.) ; Possessing a beauty that is more than skin deep

Bucky!Barnes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of violence, trauma, Bucky slowly growing crazy, obsession, alcohol, tw

Previous Part

Masterlist

It’s a slight twitch, one that contorts your sleeping face. You spiral into a dream.

“Head Father won’t be happy.”

“He’s never happy.”

Fifteen is a strange age to be covered in blood, but here you are in the shower room, getting your hands scrubbed by 502. A deal gone wrong, that’s going to earn you three days in the pen.

You talk in hush whispers, if anyone finds you talking in English, you’ll be in bigger trouble.

“I’ll be in trouble when he returns from Siberia.” You exclaim, pulling the gun from the holster tucked into the back of your pants.

“We’ll be in our way to Miami before he returns, it’ll buy you some time. Listen to what Mikhaylov tells you, be obedient and maybe Father will go easy on you.”

She pulls your hair from the braid it was in, then points to one of the showers.

“I’ll stand guard.” She promises.

That was a moment of peace before agents were taking you to the lab.

“Hello, 505.”

You sit in the metal chair, completely silent, just staring at the badge on his dirty white coat.

Jon Petrov.

Your eyes open, staring at the window. Quickly before you forget, you throw the covers off of you and rush to your desk in the corner, pulling out a notepad and writing down every detail. Still in your pajamas, you rush out of your room, down the halls, searching for someone to show.

Your mouth opens, one single noise comes out as if you were to call upon someone, but then you remember they’re all gone.

They left for Vermont early in the morning.

They couldn’t have left you alone, could they?

You shut your eyes, seeing if you can locate an energy close by.

Dr. Banner is in the lab.

“Jesus, kid.” He states in shock as you stand in the doorway, completely silent. “It’s crazy weird how soft you walk.”

You give a sorry smile and hold your notes out. He takes them with a curious look, then looks them over.

“Did you just remember this?” He asks.

You nod your head.

“Good, I’ll send it over to the team, maybe it can help.”

You don’t stick around, you go back to wandering aimlessly, trying to decide if you actually want to get dressed.

Most would argue that today was a day that you make the rules.

Because today is your birthday, and you are alone.

You do get dressed, knee socks, skirt, top, nothing extremely interesting, but you glide around the halls effortlessly, entertaining yourself while the entire floor is empty for once. Pushing random buttons on the stereo until music plays, you recognize the song.

You and 503 were in a Los Angeles strip club for a mission three years ago, dancing to this song. She looked over at you with a grin, enjoying the exotic dancer life a little too much.

You shake your head, trying to get rid of the memory. Into the kitchen you go, and decide you could easily figure out how to make a birthday cake.

As awful as that place was, if you were good, those in charge of your division would bake you a cake and reward you with gifts- gifts they’d take away as soon as you slipped up.

And even though you have directions pulled up on your phone, the mixing of ingredients doesn’t exactly go smoothly. It takes probably double the time it would normally take to pour the batter into a cake tin and put it into the oven.

Then it occurs to you that you’ve never used an oven so it takes a moment to understand the entirely too high tech thing.

All these simple things, and yet you have no clue. You’re a trained assassin with altered abilities, you will not be defeated by things of a 1950’s housewife.

Now you aren’t exactly sure how you get here, licking a spoonful of frosting while standing on top of the grand island. Like a trance, you dance to the loud music, nursing the power coming from your finger tips, letting it mist around the room.

How free you feel.

The timer goes off and you pull the perfectly round cake from the oven, frosting it. There’s no candles laying around, so you use matches.

You smile to yourself, then blow out the flames. You eat a slice, then put it in the fridge with a note that says ‘Not poisoned, enjoy’, making sure the others know it’s trustworthy.

That might not be normal, but it’s always been a concern of yours when eating things.

Dancing into the living room, you lose yourself in the beat, not really concerned about anything else.

The team returns from the leads in Vermont with not much success, only a few things they can work with.

“Is that music?” Steve asks as they enter the living quarters. The doors open upon their arrival, letting them follow the beats in the air.

“Aren’t you supposed to have enhanced hearing? Yeah, it’s music.” Tony rolls his eyes.

It gets louder and louder, a trail that leads them to the show.

A bottle of champagne in one hand, you twirl around, hips swaying, good footwork, hair falling messy in your face. You look a little messy, eyeliner smudged, lips red from sucking straight from the bottle.

Bucky’s heart stops in his chest.

You’re gorgeous.

The team just stops and stares, frozen in shock.

You choke and sputter on your next drink, finally seeing the group watching you.

You immediately halt in your movement, then flick your hand in the direction of the stereo to turn it off.

They have no words, of course you don’t either.

Nat bites her amused laugh back, taking pleasure in seeing you so care free.

“This might not be the right terminology…” Steve starts. “But why are you…busting a move?”

Everyone groans.

They exclaim things like ‘Steve, really?’, ‘That’s so dumb to ask’, and ‘Okay, Grandpa’.

Mood deflated, you just turn and walk away.

“You pissed her off, good job, Steve.” Sam says, monotonously.

“Was that not what people say?” He asks in genuine confusion.

As the group argues, Bucky watches your retreating frame until you disappear entirely.

“She’s not needed for the debrief, let’s get a move on that.” Tony finally says, ending previous conversation. But as Wanda returns from the kitchen, holding your cake, she wears a frown.

“It’s her birthday…”

Everyone’s expressions fall.

- - - -

The water’s cold as you sit at the dock, feet in the lake, bottle in your lap.

The wind blows, sending a shiver through you. Your body temperature might drop significantly, but you choose to stay seated. Your lips make a pop noise as they come off the bottle, and behind you comes footsteps. You’ve learned how everyone’s feet sound as they strike the ground.

You also know his boots sound different than the others.

“Hello, James.” You say, not turning to look at him.

He smirks slightly to himself, feeling extremely special. He is still the only one you talk to, and that possessive part of him wants it to stay that way.

You didn’t need to speak to anyone, anything you needed, he’d do for you. He’d want you to save that pretty voice of yours for him and him only-

Stop.

No.

He shakes his head free of those thoughts.

“You don’t want to know how the mission went?” He asks, looking down at you.

“How did it go?”

“Dead end.”

You hum, then take another drink.

He sighs at your defeated face, then decides he has enough self control to sit by your side.

“Why didn’t you let anyone know it was your birthday?” He asks, feeling relieved when you don’t move away from him.

You shrug. “There are far more important things than my birthday.”

Bucky scoffs. “Well that’s a depressing attitude.”

No smile, he feels defeated.

“Happy birthday.” He says next. “What, you nineteen now?”

There it is, that smile.

“Twenty five.” You correct, lifting the bottle back to your lips, though some of it spills down your chin.

His eyes watch it, how the champagne slips down the skin of neck.

He swallows hard.

Quickly, he tries to come up with something clever to say so he can distract himself from the urge to lean forward and taste it on your skin.

Christ, Sam might be right, he might be obsessed with you.

“Twenty five…I don’t remember being twenty five.” He says, and he watches as you turn to him.

“You were still a sergeant.” You say. “…I guess you’ll always be a soldier though, right?”

His head cocks in question.

“I read your file.” You admit. “I’ve read it a few times.”

He stares at you, trying to read your expression. What did you mean you’ve read it? Did that mean you knew everything? …What do you think of him now?

You can feel his anxiety, that’s why you are quick to continue.

“You’ve been Steve’s best friend since day one, they declared you an expert sniper, they scratched out the label of potential threat and wrote in ‘handy to have’.”

The champagne was really getting to you now, or was it because he is looking at you so intensely?

“Did you study everyone or am I just special?” He says with sarcasm.

“I’ve read everyone’s file, figured I should since everyone’s read mine.”

“I haven’t.”

He’s quick to say it, but you know he means it.

His blue eyes are soft for a man so adapt to killing.

Your breath comes out of your parted lips. Suddenly, the bottle is pulled from your weak grasp.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be getting drunk.” He says, taking a drink for himself before setting it down away from you.

“I have free will now, more than I know what to do with.” You state, gazing deeply.

He feels like he’s been drugged, but really it’s just that you’re right beside him, shivering, smelling like vanilla and cherries. It makes him a little woozy.

You blame your forwardness on the sugar and alcohol in your system. Your fingers reach to run against the cool metal of his dog tags that have fallen over his shirt.

“I like these.” You say softly, like you don’t even know you’re saying it.

“Why?” He asks, hoping you can’t feel the way his heart is pumping way too hard.

“I like the idea of having a name.”

Fuck. That’s heartbreaking.

Bucky furrows his brows. “You had a name once…didn’t you?”

Your finger twists around the chain of the tags, completely absentmindedly. “I had a lot of things once…a name, a home, a mother…they were all erased from my brain when they chemically altered me.” You explain, pulling your hand back. “They took it all from me…all I got out of it was murderous talents and a brand in my skin like I’m cattle.”

Bucky stays silent for a moment, watching as you think back. A dry chuckle leaves your throat.

“убийца. That’s what they used to call me with a smile on their face, like it was a compliment. God, I want to end them so bad.” You say, nose sniffling as you look away from him.

“Killer.” He translates. “Yeah, I know something about that.”

The two of you sit there, staring out at the water that falling leaves are slowly landing on top of. Bucky can’t stand to watch you shiver anymore, and the fact you’re just enduring it honestly makes him annoyed, annoyed at you lack of self preservation.

“You’re freezing, maybe you should go find Steve, get warm?” He says, trying not to sound bitter or worse, jealous.

Without one single word, you shift closer in one fluid motion and lean your head on his shoulder.

“Steve isn’t the only one with blood that runs hot.” You say softly.

Pressed right into his side, you continue to look out into the distance. He doesn’t know about this ability, but you can feel how his heart beats hard, and you know that if you concentrate, you can slow it down. Not lethally, not in the way you always dis, not to kill. Just to ease.

- - - -

“Your 11 o’clock is already here for you.”

Dr. Raynor thanks the front desk assistant and lets confusion over take her.

What was he doing here early? He always puts the sessions off to the very last second.

“James-” She hardly makes it into the office before he’s urgently standing from the couch.

“I need drugs.”

“What? James-”

“I know I said no to whatever you offered me before- what was it? Zo- something? PhantomZo or something? It doesn’t matter what it is, a damn horse tranquilizer would do, but I need something.”

Raynor calmly sits behind her desk. “Let’s slow down, yeah? Sit down.”

Bucky obeys.

“Now, why do you want the prescription? Why now?” She asks, not realizing she’s just opened a can of worms.

“I need my mind to go blank, I’m tempted to chew on a power cord to make it happen. Shock therapy did the trick before.” He says in a dead serious tone, making the woman look at him unamused.

“Humor helps you cope, so I’m not gonna tell you why that statement is severely wrong, but how about you tell me why you need your mind blank?”

He groans, running his hands through his hair. “The damn thing won’t stop. It just goes lightening speed all the time, so I need to shoot the hamster up there that won’t stop running on the wheel.”

Raynor looks at him, puzzled and worried that he’s regressing. She pulls out her notes from their first sessions.

“What thoughts are you having? Violent ones? About harming yourself or others?” She asks.

“No, no.” He grunts. “It’s this- it’s not violent. But they’re so annoying, I can’t even sleep. Blue, she’s-she’s there, all the damn time! I shut my eyes and she’s- and I can’t even speak sometimes- am I having a stroke? The age is really catching up to me, huh?”

She could dissect all of that and spend an hour talking about each thing.

But her first question, the biggest question, is the one she persists with.

“Who’s Blue?”

Next part

#bucky barnes #marvel #bucky barnes x you #bucky barns x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james barnes #the avengers #the winter soldier #bucky barnes fanfiction #sebastian stan

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nomaishuttle · 1 year

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in case u guys r ever residents in a ursing home heres an etiquette lesson its considered rude to loudly talk shit about the housekeeping staff when theres one right next to you and its especially rude if when she passes by you say Thats her ive had her for 2 weeks (i have been cleaning this womans room for 2 months .)

#if you dont fucking tell me what im dojnh wrong i cannot. i literally ask her everytime i clean her room Any notes bc ik shes picky #like. wants you to get in your hands and knees to scrub the back of her toilet picky. ljke the part that touches the wall.#forgot 2 hit post whatever km home now and i get 2 finish this ice cream carton thats been in the freezer for ages #there isnt rly a lot so i dont feel toooo bad

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st4rbwrry · 4 months

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𝒜𝑀 𝐼 𝐵𝒜𝐵𝒴?

✧｡˚ a shy nympho camgirl seeks a partner to help her film content on a dating app. soon, meeting up with a handsome man who's willing to do anything for the pretty girl he chats with.

𝒲𝒜𝑅𝒩𝐼𝒩𝒢𝒮 𓇼 14k. pwp, lowercase intended, age gap ꒰ toji is 36, reader is 24 ꒱ submissive reader, pleasure!dom toji, bondage ꒰ belt ꒱, check ins, heavy praise, overstimulation, aftercare, unprotected, videography, oral ꒰ f + m ꒱ , squirting + kreaming, spanking, choking, hair pulling, mild degradation, intimacy on high, toji is intimidating, manhandling, masturbation, daddy kink srry not srry, pet names ꒰ baby, girl, pretty, sweetheart, angel ꒱ minors aren't welcomed! reblogs & comments are appreciated!

౨ৎ — ꒰ 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎’𝑠 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠 ꒱: this took me so long to finish y'all but im super proud of it. one of my favorite works so far so i hope y’all enjoy. ♡

you hold your notebook in your hands, a bright pink color with numerous doodles sketched onto its cover, your pen on the back of your ear as you slowly cross off a list of things you needed to buy while browsing on your laptop. your room is quiet aside from the soft sound of music playing from your stereo, beyoncé’s cowboy carter album playing from start to finish while you slumped into your soft pink duvet hiding beneath a white canopy slip. the air is crisp how you like, a fresh, chunky strawberry is chewed between teeth, and your skin is freshly scrubbed and moisturized, only covered in a matcha green two piece short and tank set. a laptop sits on your thighs as you cross your legs, twirling your left calf as you bury your back into your mountain of plushies.

this was frustrating. you never realized how hard this would be to find someone to fuck, let alone film content with. you’d made a profile on hinge a week prior to now, and most of the matches weren’t close to peaking your interest. most of the men seemed like creeps, some too old . . . giving very much grim reaper. and others, too young, freshly adults at that. you think you’ve made yourself appealing enough. cute profile with full faced pictures, personality traits, daily interests even . . . but it somehow didn’t attract those you truly wanted.

as your sticker covered macbook’s motherboard screamed for air, warm on your thighs and now sliding on your tummy the further you leaned back. . . you were growing tired. huffing and puffing from literal exhaustion. am i wasting my time? should i just go out and find people like in the movies? but this generation made it so hard to even physically connect anymore. what happened to people running into each other at a coffee shop, a book store, a park? sharing interests and going on dates. granted, what you were looking for was strictly work related. you wouldn’t dare stare a stranger in the eye you bumped into at the farmers market and ask, “hey, wanna fuck me for content?” it’d be tasteless. you have self respect. others may think differently considering your side quests to fund the unfathomable reality of adulthood on top of just being a girl.

“this fucking sucks,” you groan to yourself, thumb aching from how quickly you hit the big ‘x’ on the bottom left corner of your phone screen.

maybe it was time to call it a night. you had an early shift at the salon, about five clients to be exact, booking either re-twists, goddess braids, or a wig install. so you had to save your hand strength. sighing, you shut off your laptop and set it aside on your nightstand, disconnecting the music from your phone before getting up to cut off the light. your fluffy cat that laid on the edge of your bed shooting her head up in alarm, ready to follow at any adventure you pursued.

“relax, mommy’s not going anywhere,” you smile assuredly, knee dipping into the bed as you lean over to smooch her on her tiny head, pointy ears tickling your cheek as you watch her tail sway. “good night, sweet — oh, fuck! i forgot to feed you. i’m so sorry baby.”

the alert in your tone has the black cat stand in attention, cursing to yourself as you slip on your heart printed slippers and make your way towards the kitchen, your studio apartment being on one level making this task easier. you listen to her tiny paws thud on the floor after she jumps off the bed in a hurry, dashing in front of you, damn near tripping you.

“oh my god, you’re so extra,” you shake your head, but couldn’t help but laugh. she meows at you violently, as if you hadn’t fed her in two weeks. rolling your eyes, you reach for her bowl off the floor to clean before opening a fresh can of fancy feast, using one of her plastic spoons to arrange her dinner.

whilst she awaits, you can’t help but glare at the screen of your phone as it suddenly dings, forgetting to turn off your ringer. hovering over it to activate your face i.d, it immediately opens the hinge app, reloading the page to see a new match. the air you inhaled suddenly catches in your throat as you stare wide eyed at your screen, the man in your view is just what you’ve been waiting for.

“oh, holy fuck,” comprehension wasn’t on your radar seeming as you lost the ability of the cat food in your hand, dropping it to the floor and flinching from the mess your fur baby began chowing on. sucking your teeth, you mutter, “goddamit. no, no. stop it.”

flailing your hand gently to get her to stop, you snatch the can and dump the remainder in the deep oval ceramic bowl. you try to ignore the rapid pounding of your heartbeat, unsure why it went so astray. maybe it’s because you’ve never seen a man so fucking fine. deadly fine, foul almost. as if it was such a disrespect to all beings. she’d cleaned up her own mess, so you take the time to grab your phone and lean against the sink to observe this man further. he had matched with you, of course, otherwise you wouldn’t have been so depressed a few minutes ago . . . unless you were waiting for him to like you back.

toji. it’s his name. simple, nice. he only has about three pictures, one of them a huge black cane corso with a gorgeous silky coat. it made sense given the vibe he was giving. dark, intimidating, sexy. jet black hair, slender smoke gray eyes, sharp jaw and a fascinating scar on the side of his mouth. another thing you noticed was how big he was. most of the clothing he wears sticks to his skin like glue. molding the outline of his muscles, the thickness in his arms, the heaviness in his thighs, the brick trail of his abdomen.

a certain feeling burns in your chest, and between your legs as you scroll to see the last image. he’s sitting on a beach chair, thighs spread in black cargo pants, matching tee, a yuengling beer in his hand and a cross dangling around his neck as he takes a sip of his beverage with a hungry look into the camera. it’s cocky, possessive, dominant. the dark brows above his eyes lowered with attentiveness. his shirt is half risen above his abdomen, and you can easily see the dark trail of hair leading into his crotch. it’s full there, clear as day. so it’s easy to tell he carries something serious.

fuck. “fuck,” you feel yourself growing hot, blowing out a breath of air before making your way back to your comfy bed to stare at him more. what a fucking man. honestly, you’d never seen someone so of your standard. exactly your type. before messaging him, you check his profile a bit deeper to make sure you’re not mistaken of anything. find some flaws, though profiles only express so much.

thirty-six, that makes you moan. that’s a twelve year age difference. though that only makes him hotter. not too old, nor young. he’s a . . . gynecologist.

“so he’s good with pussy,” you giggle to yourself. he makes a decent amount of money. he’s into fitness, clearly. cars, politics, sports. seemed like a pretty laid back man to you.

without even realizing, he had already messaged you, your heart dropping to your toes at his first response.

toji

i’ve seen you before.

you blink, fingers typing quickly.

you

mhm, where?

he takes a moment to reply, so you fiddle with your necklace out of anxiousness, laying on your stomach and swaying your feet.

toji

sounds a little embarrassing, but an adult website.

you

sounds about right. does that bother you?

toji

i wouldn’t have matched with you if it had.

you

so you’re saying if i wasn’t a porn streamer you wouldn’t even look my way?

those three dots prolong longer than you wanted, only making you aware he didn’t know what to say.

toji

i matched with you because i find you attractive. whether you want me in that way or not is up to you. i want you.

he’s straightforward. you can’t help but bite the tip of your acrylic, smiling like a stupid teenager, kicking your feet in the air. the attraction being mutual boosting your ego.

“i want you, daddy,” you joke to yourself.

you

i’m assuming you’ve read my bio. i’m looking for someone to film content with! if you’re down for it, we can meet in person and talk about it! i’m not really looking for a relationship. . . right now at least. ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)

toji

of course, sweetheart. i’m free saturday’s and sunday’s. you don’t seem that far from me. let’s grab italian. my treat.

there’s something blunt and grown about him, you can practically feel his intimidation radiating through your fingertips. he seems just like the kind of man you knew would fuck you stupid. scream his name until the walls bled. until you’re trembling, and the sheets are off the bed, and his sweat is on your back so arched to the point where it’s painfully delicious. biting your lip, you had nothing else to lose. you needed his help, he’s offering lunch, you only live once.

you

you had me at italian. saturday at 2?

toji

saturday at 2. see you then, darling.

𓇼

the nostalgic scent of blue magic hair grease fills the air of the salon, your fingers working tirelessly to intricate detail into the woman’s scalp you worked on. your last client of the day in fact. you couldn’t wait to clock out and grab a bowl from chipotle, thinking about it your entire shift. fingers entwining artfully as braiding hair flicks from angle to angle, you finish up the final knotless braid with a hard working sigh. you tried to remain optimistic after she’d taken her seat, unfortunately arriving an hour late to her appointment. said she had ‘issues’ with her boyfriend, smelling like weed and partially slurring her words when she came in. but you could care less when you were on a time crunch.

you hated when people wouldn’t respect the clearly listed rules on your account. so, for that, she’d be paying a late fee. after you applied moose and rosemary oil to her scalp, she’d pay you through apple pay and be on her way. you thank her, and when she’s out the door, you instantly turn to your friend and roll your eyes.

“you’re too damn nice for doing her hair. i would’ve told her ass to kick rocks after showing up that damn late,” amethyst speaks, crosslegged and shaking her head as she digs her fork into her chinease platter, filled to the brim with shrimp fried rice and popcorn chicken. the smell alone makes your tummy growl. “did she even tip you?”

“not at all,” you brush off, not even wanting to think about it anymore. “still got my money at the end of the day.“

“hey, you’ve been off the whole day, everything alright?” amethyst proceeds to question, and your shoulders slump as you halt from sweeping up hair off the floor.

aside from tireless appointments, you couldn’t get toji out of your mind, super impatient, even anxious for saturday to come. it’s two days away until you finally meet him. you’ve texted here and there, shared a few updates on life or spoke of relating passions and wanting desires. you had told him your occupation outside of being a camgirl, and how dissatisfied with it you’ve become. this field wasn’t for you anymore. the passion for it is dying, the clients grow irritable, and you just wanted to breathe. you feel like you’ve been working your whole life. in conclusion, since fifteen. started from an early age dealing with responsibilities due to financial constraints within your family. your mother raised you on her own, along with four other children. and being cursed with the older daughter syndrome, you developed faster than you wanted to. barely having time to live your life until you moved out. even then, it’s been all about work. you needed an island getaway.

“this week just burnt me out. i’m just glad it’s almost over,” you reply, not having the energy for a full conversation. she was a sweet girl, albeit very nosey. you try to keep events in your life private, gossip to a minimum.

“awe, bookie,” she pouts. “what’s your plan for tomorrow? me and the girls were gonna check out that new club ‘sin.’”

shaking your head, you disagree. “now you know i’m not big on clubs. have an art piece to work on anyways before the weekend comes. so i’ll be busy.”

amethyst nods. “well, alright then. i guess i’ll just see you whenever you get booked again.”

you don’t know why that felt like a backhanded response. you’re only here three times out of the week, and most of those days you see about five to six clients. everyone else had a bigger following on social media, meaning more attention, more money. you believe because you aren’t so passionate for this major, your ability to promote and put effort only shows in your adult entertainment career. since it’s where most of your income comes from as of four months ago.

“guess i’ll see you.”

after packing your ballerina pink telfar bag with all of your tools, you wave goodbye to everyone before making your way to your white honda civic, interior a vast splash of pink matching the two-piece skims set you wore. shorts since the weather is about seventy-five degrees today. buckling yourself in, your only agenda is to head to chipotle and then home. ordering your delectable signature bowl of barbacoa, fajita veggies, guacamole, pico de gallo, corn, sour cream, cheese, lettuce, and refusing to eat the bowl without their vinaigrette and a side of chips.

it’s around 9pm when you’re finally cleaned off from a hot shower, curly hair pushed back from your face with a hello kitty headband as you finish your skincare, sitting at your vanity while scandal plays in the background. you’d already eaten your food about an hour ago, even taking a thirty minute nap to regenerate for this art piece you needed to finish. in total, you had about three jobs; hair stylist, camgirl, ceramicist. you had an etsy profile where people bought cute little things of yours you liked to sculpt. tea pots, coquette flower pots, plates, heart cake jewelry boxes . . you name it. you had a few orders for mini miffy trinkets you had to ship out by saturday.

saturday. the warmth in your gut swarms at the thought of seeing that man. quite frankly, you’ve been unable to relieve your mind of him. he’s like a poison, hard to get rid of, but desperate to stay bonded with you. and you wanted nothing more than to be buried in his embrace; small and fucked out. since he’s been busy with work, and so have you, there hasn’t been much time to even call and chat. then again, you wanted to wait to see him in person. to feel that magnetism stronger than it already was. two days away and you’re anxious to even hear a hello.

while patting your toner into your face, you gaze through your mirror to see a scene playing from your show where fitz and olivia fight before they fuck for the hundredth time. the way he grabs her, speaks to her, caresses her and worships her. it has you thinking of toji instantly. the burn for him aching more than normal. practically feeling his eyes on you the way he stared into the camera in that one photo, long fingers clasped around the glass bottle, craving for that lock around your throat. wondering how tight he’d make it. would you be able to breathe? would he kiss air into your mouth to help you? tell you it’s okay, to feel it all, to take it all, to cum on his dick till you're milking him dry?

your thighs squeeze together from your imagination, staring at your reflection . . . and it’s all in your eyes. deep arousal, and the harsh clench you currently held your moisturizer in, close to grinding in your seat to ease the buzz of your clit. there’s only one solution for this, and you might as well make money off it. standing to your feet, you think not a second more before retrieving your laptop from your closet, setting it on your vanity desk and logging into the domain of prettyfuckbunnies.com. it seemed to be the main site for growth, given your eight thousand dedicated subscribers. you check yourself in the mirror once more before going live, rolling your chair back a few inches so they could see your entire frame. dressed in nothing but a small red slip dress.

angelbwrry is live!

your subscribers were notified well before others, hundreds of them swarming the chat within seconds. you were a new favorite, a prized star of the platform. admiration from both women and men. people who tipped you just for being pretty. others here for the obvious. applying gloss to your lips, you stare intensely into the camera, the character you play going into affect.

“hi,” you mutter quietly, slowly titling your head to the side as you bite your lip and sink lower into your seat, back arching. “i’m so fucking horny, and i just need someone to watch me fuck myself.”

the black kuromi chair you sat in begins to sway as you gently swing yourself side to side, eyes trained on the chat to witness them praise you, some comments degrading off the rip that you chose to ignore, others demanding you get on with it. for the most part, you tend to be discreet with sharing much about yourself. technically, you weren’t hiding much, your face easily accessible and probably even less hard to track. you’d always pray that there wasn’t a psycho willing to go that far just to find you. role playing was your forte. writing ideas for new personas to please them. and you had fun doing it. you’d never do something you weren’t in to for the satisfaction of others. never took private calls, or meets ups for obvious reasons.

but, you had to talk about him.

“i met this guy i can’t get outta my head,” the softness in your tone making dicks go erect and clits beat, the chat asking questions and growing fond of your way of interaction. “well, maybe not met. we’ve texted, and i meet him in a few days. possibly someone you’ll see on the channel. and . . .”

the tenseness in toji’s neck bothers him as he groans and leans back into his office’s chair, fork in one hand as he chews on his salad from sweetgreen a coworker grabbed for him, reading through emails his secretary confirmed appointments of, needing to add it into his schedule to be aware of what he can fit between. needing to run a few errands this weekend. the white doctors coat clings to his body, one foot raised to rest on the front of his desk, manspreading and jaw shifting as he finishes his food tiredly, knowing he wouldn’t eat a thing once he got home.

“goodnight doctor fushiguro! get some rest tonight, yeah?” a body comes to view of his secretary; a woman with glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose, a chunky face and beautiful red hair. she waves enthusiastically.

toji smiles, the older woman trying her best not to swoon. he’s young enough to be her son. “good night, miss thorn. thank you for today. you get home safe and enjoy your trip. i wanna hear all about it when you’re back.”

“you know you’re the first person i’m running to tell!” she chirps, toji chuckling. “i left my keys on the main desk. don’t forget or else you’ll have to break open the drawer for your patients files.”

“i’ll be sure to remember.”

twenty minutes pass and toji’s cutting off lights to his small facility and locking up. twirling the keys on his long finger, starting up the sleek black maserati ghibli gt sitting in the parking lot from his key. a black patent leather messenger bag hanging from his shoulder, doctors coat discarded and now attired in his usual black tee with matching slacks. setting it beside him in the passengers seat, he gets a ding! from his cellphone, resting his shoulders in his seat before checking what it was, perhaps it was miss thorn, she tends to leave things behind.

angelbwrry is going live!

toji raises a brow from the notification, checking the sapphire bulova watch on his wrist for the time. 9:54pm. why were you up so late? forgetting people have other schedules, he’s so used to being asleep around this time, much more having to be done today the only reason he was still in the office way past the hour it closed. part of him grows inquisitive, wondering if he should invade your privacy or what not. though, he’s not new to your escapades. he’s seen every inch of your body, memorizing it quite literally. he’s not ashamed to say you’ve gotten him off a few times these past months. he feels like he knows you on a deeper level now, so itching for that perverted behavior would be indecent to both of you. especially if he’s seeing you in two days . . . for a conversation about what you do and his potential participation.

nothing wrong with just watching, right?

as the engine to his car hums, toji finds himself in a devious act, clicking onto your feed and finding you displayed in your feminine bedroom. the videos on mute momentarily before he’s going full screen and turning his phone sideways. there you were, small and standing tall as the slip that barely clung to your body arose the more you moved. hips wide, thighs full, nipples taut and tits defying gravity. the strap on your right shoulder falls elegantly, your hair hoisted up by a claw clip and your brown skin radiating glow. the man openly groans from the sight, knowing you smelt so good.

“wait, i have an idea!” the cute tone of your voice blares through his phone, a smirk painting his stern features as he watches you scramble for something in your room, your slip riding up your ass. the hourglass shape of your body, to the pudge of your tummy . . he’s enamored.

he, and a thousand other people watch curiously as you lift the seven foot mirror that previously leaned against your closet door and position it on the floor at the edge of your bed. then, you’re digging into your bottom drawer for something else, toji catching a brief glance at the chat raving and thirsting from the view of your perky ass peaking out, a tiny birth mark under the left one. the cellulite in your legs that squish together from size, the stretch marks leading from beneath your ass cheeks down to the backs of your knees. so fucking soft.

“ta-da!” you wave the object in your hand courageously, an evil grin on your face as you show the crowd your confetti designed dildo, the brow on toji’s face raising. he almost wants to chuckle. you’re so silly, he thinks. watching you dance your way back towards the mirror where you hum a tune to yourself, swaying your ass in the air for dramatics before plunging your toy onto the center of the mirror so it sticks, watching it spring for attention.

“gonna pretend this is him, ‘till then. can’t wait any longer,” your hands slowly drift up your thighs to show your audience your bare pussy, hiding between those luscious thighs of yours. he wanted to suffocate his face there badly. what you say almost goes over his head. pretend who’s what?

toji ignores the flow of comments filling the chat, degrading you to some degree which he briefly clenches his jaw from, feeling somewhat protective. others praising you, acting like your cash pigs. pathetic, he thinks. he sees one comment in particular that makes the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

prinxxxspeach

aren’t you seeing him saturday? call him now to come help you girl!!

don’t fucking call me, angel. i’ll nut in my pants right now if i hear you say my name. he’s slightly amused that you spoke of him. is that why you went live so late? thinking about him? so pent up, and impatient, you had to just fuck it out your system? he’d fuck you a lot better than that lousy toy you had, that’s for sure.

you giggle from the comment, contacts still in your sockets so you can read what people are saying from afar.

“he can wait for me. he’s making me wait,” it’s like an old film camera flipping to the next scene, or maybe his mind had gone blank from your response because now, now you’re sinking your tiny pussy onto your toy after coating it with lube, the reflection of your cunt for all to see in the mirror. watching as this toy splits you apart, pretty folds swallowing it deep as you balance yourself on the tips of your toes. fully sitting and rolling your hips to adjust, your mouth falls wide and a whimper escapes.

“nng, s’so deep,” that voice of yours is going to get you in trouble. the broken moans you release as you lift your hips to grind and bounce, face falling forward to look at yourself, seeing someone other than yourself. your imagination begins to run wild, and you forget a cameras watching you, dainty fingers caressing the mirror before laying your palm flat, as if you’re choking him. biting your lip, you occupy your other hand by molding at your chest.

you uphold your balance well, clapping your ass down against the mirror now coated with your slick, pussy squelching ridiculously loud aside from your weak moans and desperate whimpers.

“fuuck,” your breath hikes, sounds broken and almost pleading, eyes rolling back as you collapse to your knees and lazily rock back on your idea of a dick. by this point, toji’s eyes are malicious, and his dick is hard in his slacks. shifting in his seat uncomfortably from what you’ve done.

“lemme see your face,” toji whispers in the air, the heat rushing to his cheeks. the things you do to him truly fascinating.

“g’na cuum, mmph daddy!” a high pitched squeal you let out stuns him, your hips shifting back and forth hurriedly. the flesh of your ass moving like water, and he’s in a trance. daddy? what the fuck are you doing to him? he wonders if you knew he was going to purposely join your live. already talking about him gave it away.

“c’mon, angel. show me,” the blood swells in his cock rapidly, tip damn near dripping with precum, unable to help but palm his heavy hand with it, humming and widening his legs.

“too-jii,” it’s faint the words you falter, a pathetic whimper followed by drool covered lips and a cute squeak. your body trembles from the depth of your orgasm, riding out your high and giggling cutely to yourself. to others, the words were inaudible. but to him, he knew exactly what the fuck you said.

the way you smile at yourself in the mirror, as if you’re looking at his fucked out face, you slowly upturn your head to bring it back to the livestream, a drunken, and dangerous grin on your face. never in his years of life had a woman made him gulp. to fear for what you’d do to him. how bad you’d break him, make him go fucking crazy. yearn for your pussy on his mouth.

you were fucking ethereal.

𓇼

of-fucking-course you’d be running late. you were supposed to meet toji at two and it’s two thirty. the location of c’est moi exactly twenty five minutes away from where you lived. you were close to the downtown area, not fond of parking down there but you’d drive faster than an uber can. you made sure to make toji aware of your lateness so he’s not getting the idea that you stood him up. never. not after the other day. you don’t know what happened, but your mind took over your body and you couldn’t help yourself. you only pray he didn’t see it, not expecting him to. it’s embarrassing now that you think back on it.

you manage to make it out of the house twenty minutes after, throwing on a simple white pleated cami dress with a ruffled hem, ruched bust, and pairing of olive green sandals that had tea rose shaded orchids clipped onto the forefront. a teri cherry printed coach bag tight on your shoulder after you sped sixty miles per hour towards the restaurant, finding parking and hurriedly making your way inside.

“hi, reservations for fushiguro. i’m extremely late,” as you approach the host, you make out the sight of the man you were here to see outside instantly. sitting alone sipping a cup of coffee. his side profile all you can see, that deep scar carved into the side of his mouth, his veiny hands big as he clutches the mug . . and your throat clogs up.

he’s fucking . . . big. fuck being nervous before, this made you want to run and hide and never show your face. he’s practically hunching over the table, making it appear smaller than it actually is. his hair is midnight black, his broad shoulders and muscles suffocating the sleek gucci button up he wore, a few undone, eyes studying his cellphone, awaiting your call. one thing about being a doctor, he’s learned to be patient. understanding your alarm forgot to go off, or rather you slept through it . . seemingly growing to become impatient. he needed to see your face now.

“right this way.”

your feet follow blindly behind the hostess, trying your best not to trip over your own feet, heart beating drastically against your ribcage. your palms are sweaty, feeling the warm breeze of spring air hit your skin as the hostess leads you outside to the table where toji resides. he sees you before you see him, the sun beaming on your skin not nearly as hot as your cheeks suddenly became when finally making eye contact. your right hand picks at the ends of your dress anxiously, toji taking a stand to welcome you like a gentleman. it’s like slow fucking motion the closer you approach him, and when you’re inches apart, you can see the stillness on his face. he doesn’t smile, his face is almost unreadable. not sure if he’s upset with you for being late, or he’s just not one for emotions.

“hi,” the hairs on your skin stand from the deep baritone of his voice, visibly swallowing as you stare up at him, height difference making you dizzy.

“hi,” you blink like an innocent doe. he’s hovering over you and the waiter whom sets the menu down on the table, his chest almost touching you as he comes around to pull your chair out for you to sit, finally getting so close to the point where he could breathe in your sweet perfume, the peony and white musk scent has him forcing down a groan. he’s staring intently at your backside, dark hair going to the middle of your back in wild curls, a bit frizzy due to the humidity outside.

“can i get you anything to drink, miss?” the waiter addresses you, politely waiting for toji to move out the way.

why is your entire body on fire? no man has ever had this affect on you. his aura exudes something sinister, overtly masculine even. “u-um, yes please. can i just have a frozen sangria?”

“of course, i’ll be back with that while you decide on your meal.”

“thanks,” you smile sweetly, trying your very best to avoid complete eye contact. once the two of you are alone, you build up the courage to look at him again. he’s seated once more, leaning back into his chair with a left arm resting over the back of the chair with his legs comfortably spread. he liked to do that a lot. his eyes are low, head adjusted somewhat to the left as he observes you.

“good to finally see you,” he’s the first to speak, again. that fucking voice of his; raspy and dominant. how are you supposed to carry out a conversation without folding?

“y-yeah,” you clear your throat, sitting up straight after shyly clamping your hands between your legs and trying to hide like a porcupine. “i want to apologize again for running late. out of all days my phone decides to not ring my alarm. i rushed here as soon as possible. i hope you weren’t waiting too long.”

his lips began to rise into a soft smile, and that eases your nerves. no one would notice you’d rush to get ready. so naturally pretty with your face glowing from rose water and petroleum jelly, hair brushed out, lashes only curled with mascara, lips lined with black liner and smothered with gloss while your prescription glasses sit on the bridge of your nose. too cute.

“sweetheart, no need for the sorry’s. i understand.”

he’s not mad, thank fuck. “kay,” you smile back, tucking pieces of flown hair behind your ear. “did you order yet?”

“was waiting on you,” he replied. “though i kind of lost my appetite. i’m craving something . . . else. so, order anything you’d like.”

that was surely a double meaning. now, you’re not so sure if you had an appetite anymore. you couldn’t bare to eat in front of this man right now. when the waiter came back with your drink, you downed half of it, toji chuckling from your anxiousness. you needed the liquid courage before uttering another word towards the man who watched you with motive, intention. the intimidation brewing from his body is corrupting you. you order a simple caesar salad, nothing too fancy.

“oh! i printed out the document we have to go over.”

toji’s eyes trail to your hands that reach for your purse, acrylic nails painted a peony pink pulling out your notebook stuffed with an arrangement of papers as well as a pen. “guess we can call it like an nda, affidavit . . whatever. i’m sure you’re aware of the obvious on why. um, we can discuss boundaries within the bedroom . . . things we will or will not condone. a safe word is a must. if you don’t feel comfortable showing your face i’d blur it out, but given i do livestreams most of the time that’ll be impossible. so i’d suggest a mask, which i’m actually in to so if that’s something you’re willing to do . . “

toji nods as you continue to ramble, carefully analyzing everything you say, though, his mind begins to drift elsewhere. he still couldn’t get that damn livestream out of his mind. killing himself these past two days just thinking about how fucked out he needed you to be, buried deep and crying underneath him. the cute expressions on your face when you moaned his name so publicly, as if you dared him to see. how desperately you fucked yourself on that pathetic toy of yours from the very thought of him. your whines, the illicit way you stared at your reflection in the mirror beneath your sculpture of a body you rolled seductively. he shifts in his seat, attempting to conceal the stirring of hunger within him as you continue to talk. he doesn’t need a fucking contract. he’d fuck you good and wouldn’t tell a soul.

his expression is firm yet tinged with a hint of something different this time . . anticipation. “why do you film content?”

the unwavering intensity in his gaze causes you to cut your sentence short, mouth forming an ‘o’ as you ponder on his question. was he even listening? “wha—what do you mean?”

toji chuckles. “i mean, why do you film? is it your main source of income? do you enjoy submitting to hundreds of people? does it make you feel confident, make you feel good? why?”

that should’ve been something you prepared yourself to answer. most of the guys you filmed content with didn’t have personal answers to ask, nor did they care. they were simply there to have a good time and go about their lives. you came into this situation thinking that’s what toji wanted as well. now you’re getting a gut feeling it’s more than that. or maybe you’re just an over-thinker. the whole point of making an account on hinge was to find better people to connect with for work, but most of them never got the job done, and you were tired of faking an orgasm and boosting a man’s ego. something about this one though, you can feel that he’s willing to worship you.

“well, i actually have three jobs. hairstylist during the day, which i’m growing to lose passion for. i’m good with pottery so i make little things and sell them. and then as for filming content . . . it’s fast money. the economy is shit right now. minimum wage jobs aren’t cutting it. rent prices are horrifying. i want to fund a new life for myself. to travel more, and just be a girl.”

toji smiles, admiring you.

“bali has been on my mind as a place to reside. it’s always been a dream of mine to be somewhere tropical. less breathing in polluted air and eating foods they pump full of hormones. mexico and puerto rico are also on the list. i really need to dip my feet in some sand or something. i don’t know. it’s also kind of sexually liberating to be in my own bubble and enjoy myself in that way. i do it for no one but myself.”

toji sits up in his seat, taking a piece of ciabatta and smearing softened butter onto the breadpicked up a slice of bread and smeared some butter onto it. “i think that moving to a place like that is a good idea. there’s a lot of bullshit in the world that’s hard to run away from. if you feel like it’s what’s best for your mental and emotional being, then go for it. you seem like you’ve worked real hard your entire life. you deserve a break.”

the heat in your cheeks rise as he leans himself closer, guiding the bread to your lips, waiting for you to take a bite. you smile softly, sitting up a bit in your chair before taking a bite. toji watches intensely as you moan from the taste.

“isn’t it much better when it’s given by someone else?”

“yeah, it’s good. real good,” you swallow, licking your lips to rid the breadcrumbs, reaching for your glass of wine to take another sip. “i have most of my savings in tact, so my plan is to be out of here by next year.”

the unadulterated pull between the two of you threatens to consume him as he stares at you, his body almost painfully yearning for your touch, your taste, your everything. toji can no longer resist. he reaches out and gently cups your chin, his fingers gently yet firmly tilting your face up to meet his smoldering gaze when you dared to look away. “how ‘bout you take me with you.“

the entire scene switches, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, filled with a raw mixture of lust and vulnerability makes you fall shamelessly into his trance. you feel your heart patter against your chest, scanning his entire face with small indications of panic, and excitement. you’ve been dying for his touch all week. you pray he’s as good as he looks.

“what’s the catch?” you breathe inordinately.

toji smirks. “we get fake married or something and change our identities.”

you shake your head at his joke. “i need to see a ring first, mister.”

“mhm, you look like a marquise kinda girl,” he tongues his cheek, in deep thought. “go to bali. i pay, you enjoy life.”

pairs of lips are mere inches away, toji ghosting his softly amongst your own, yours parting to follow. you feel like you’re in space, the feeling extraterrestrial. surrounded by depths of nothingness with only the two of you existing.

“i. . no, i can’t let you do that,” you shake your head dismissively.

“you deserve it.”

“you don’t know me.”

“good. that’ll be the perfect occasion for us to spend more time together,” he concludes, softly pecking your lips to coax you into giving him what he needed. you’re stunned, unsure what to say, or to think. so, he doesn’t make you think.

“fuckin’ kiss me,” his voice drops to a husky whisper, filled with a raw mixture of desire and vulnerability, eyes flickering from the plumpness of your lips to your eyes. “can’t wait any fucking longer.”

the heat of his breath mingles with yours as his lips brush against your own in a hungry, fiery kiss. his mouth devours yours with an intensity that borders on primal, each movement filled with a desperate need to taste and consume everything you have to offer. his tongue slips past your parted lips, eagerly exploring the depths of your mouth as if seeking to memorize every inch of you.

you were drawn in fully now and you didn’t think you’d be able to pull away even if you wanted.

within the moment of your passionate kiss, as toji’s rough hand trailed to grasp your throat, your waiter begins to approach with your salad, eyes widening as he noticed how deeply, and somewhat aggressively your make out session was. practically swallowing each others faces. deciding to mind his business and turn the other way. he’d come back in a few minutes. toji breaks the kiss abruptly, his eyes gleaming with a hint of reluctance.

“damn this table,” he mutters, his gaze shifting towards the barrier separating the two of you. his breathing is ragged, body practically trembling with pent-up need. even so, he manages to pull himself together enough to maintain some semblance of composure.

he’s left you breathless, feeling something in your chest you’d never felt before, this attraction for him otherworldly. your lips are pouted, hands bawled into little fists levitating in front of your chest, as if you were begging for him to come back. when he begins to rise to his feet, you wonder where he’s going, eyes coming into immediate contact at the bulge growing tight in his jeans. you swallow, shifting your gaze up to the tall man that hovers over you possessively.

“go home, send me the address. i gotta handle a few business calls then i’ll be there at eleven.”

you hadn’t noticed the way your teeth sunk into your lower lip as you give him those damn puppy eyes, as if you’re so fascinated by him, almost scared of him to leave right now. toji grabs the pen resting between your little pink book, signing his signature on the indicated line on the bottom of the page for your gratification. after, he’s fishing for the brown leather wallet in his pocket to place down a hundred dollar bill on the table to cover the tab and the waiters tip. then, he leans down, lips gently brushing against your forehead in a tender kiss that sends a shiver down your spine. he lingers just a moment longer, as if reluctant to let go.

“see you later, angel.”

finally, and with that, he steps back, his eyes lingering on your form for a moment before he turns and walks away, the sound of his heavy footsteps echoes in your ears, leaving you alone with your thoughts and a lingering sense of anticipation for the evening to come. starstruck entirely.

𓇼

a rush of arousal burned within you like wildfire as you lay in your empty bed, yearning for the man who's been gone for only a few hours now. caressing your collarbone while chewing on your lip, your phone rests in your palm, excitement brewing for twenty minutes now ever since he texted you to let you know he was on the way. a black baby doll is adorned on your soft skin. ruffle lace details at the neckline and hem with a satin waistband tie at the back into a cute bow. matching mesh g-string panty, and floral patterns along the bust and hip area.

you took the time to curl your hair, reminding yourself to actually put your contacts in this time. also keeping makeup to a minimum with just mascara, a bit of blush, and some strawberry chapstick. skin moisturized in baby oil and spritzed with miss dior. . . waiting. the camera’s set up across from your bed, trying to distract yourself by engaging in conversation with your viewers. the comments were raging about how impatient they were to see something, but how did they think you felt? you could barely walk out of that restaurant without feeling your legs shake.

he intimidated you beyond measure, and god knows what he’s going to do to you when he gets here. it’s a fear and form of greed you’d never felt before.

“my fucking hands are shaking,” you giggle anxiously, smiling to yourself and shaking your hands before dramatically breathing out.

as you waited, you did little things to keep your buyers entertained, showing your ass every now and then as you cleaned your room like a cute maid. call it foreplay. sitting on your knees now become uncomfortable, so you aim for lowering to your tummy and stretching your arms ahead of you, ass raised up. as soon as you get comfortable, your head pops up from the sound of heavy footsteps surrounding the small area of your home. it’s him. you’d hope, leaving the door unlocked so it’d be easier for him to enter.

“oh, fuck—y’all,” the anxiety is even worse now, mentally preparing yourself with steady breaths and shoving your face into the bed to scream happily. the emotions are bipolar. “he’s coming up.”

toji steps closer to your slightly cracked open door, pushing it open wide to see you. his demeanor nothing short of serious when he gets a good look at you, hearing you yap at your camcorder with his hands stuffed into his jean pockets. he rests his right shoulder against the frame of the door, staring at you, admiring. his boots hit along the floor the closer he gets to you, and that cute ass you had perched up. the lights in your room are dimly lit, citrus candles spread around and led lights from your vanity illuminating the area. the vibe is nice, he likes it. like he likes you.

you continue to speak to your livestream and pretend he wasn’t there, trying to ignore your heartbeat picking up. the tension is in the air. you tried to steady your breathing as you continue to ramble about nonsense; animal crossing, sims you wanted to recreate and purposely wicked whim them. anything to distract yourself from the sparks shivering through your body. you prod the inside of your cheek trying to bite back a grin when you finally feel his hands on your hips, eyes watching the chat go wild from the brooding man behind you. what makes it all the more hot is that he hasn’t spoken a word, feeling like an intruder. stalking, waiting.

“so yeah, i’m thinking about dying my hair red. i feel like my face is kinda full to have a silk press so i’ll look . . off? maybe p-pin ‘urls,” a wave of pleasure shocks through you when you feel him press the outline of his dick against your cunt, dragging you back to air-fuck you once or twice. a few times. for the tease of it. his fingertips lightly flowing along the curves and contours of your body, your hips being the most sensitive. gasping and twitching from the feel, the thong you wore barely shielding how wet you were.

your breath became heavier, and you found it harder to continue speaking. you felt like moans would slip out of if you continued to react to his touch, the heat between you two rising. you were drawn fully into him. the reaction from him gave you a confidence boost, a slick smile showing on your face. while his body speaks of his own growing need, he remains a silent observer, his intense gaze watching as you maintain, or try, your playful conversation with the camera.

“i gotta admit something,” you smile into your hair that falls angelically around the frame of your face. his form, silhouetted behind you, takes on an ominous yet seductive presence. even though he remains hidden from view, his yearn is palpable, eyes locked on you as if he could consume you with a single glance.

“i fucked myself thinking of him,” a jolt of electricity runs down toji’s spine as he recollects the image. a low, involuntary groan escapes his throat as his grip on you tightens. “those of you who don’t remember. it was really, really good.”

that’s the final trigger. in seconds, a rough palm strikes the flesh of your ass, causing the cutest squeak to emit from you. toji’s wrapping his other fist around the softness of your hair and pulling you back to his hard chest. his cologne is strong, enrapturing even. your hand reaches beside you to catch his wrist in your grip, feeling the coldness of his expensive watch while he’s busy locking your jaw still and pressing his lips beneath your ear.

“really?” the tone is condescending, and as you nod frantically, pushing your ass back to feel him more, all you can hear is the unraveling of his belt. slowly removing it, the sound of the leather rubbing against the buckle and his pants. the anticipation fills you at an alarming pace. “i knew that, angel.”

how? wait, did he fucking watch the live you made that night? your legs nearly go weak at the possibility, sheer embarrassment consuming you. he wasn’t meant to see that. yeah, you told him about it. but him seeing that, then having lunch with you like nothing happened is crazy work. he noticed you’re frozen, chuckling darkly behind you.

“relax, doll. i can pretend i didn’t, ‘n you can show me all over again.”

he grabs your wrists, pining them behind your back with a rush of power fueling him, crossed hands sitting on your ass.

“this okay, baby?” he scans the side of your face for approval, using the smooth leather to bond them together. you hum, lips bitten and nodding obediently.

the look on your face in the camera is so worth the thousands of views from people who were just as desperate as he was to see you submit. your hands wriggle to touch him, laying your head on his shoulder and biting your lip as his teeth graze from your shoulder, to your collarbone, and your neck. your body’s completely on fire, and he makes it worse when he gently shoves you forward to fall on your face, back arched and ass high for his view, and theirs.

toji stared down at you as you remained there, fully surrendering yourself for the taking. his larger body leans over yours, fingers grabbing your chin to force your mouth to open. toji brushes his lips along yours, your desperate mouth sinking into him, feeling that same spark you felt earlier during lunch in your chest. he deepened the kiss to give you what you wanted, easily reading you, his tongue ravaging your mouth with his waist grinding into the shape of your ass. the kiss is so wet it has you mewling like a cat in heat, losing your breath.

“give me a safe word, hm?” toji sucks on his lower lip, the arousal in his eyes ruining you. a heavy hand rubs circles on your ass before hitting it again, another cute sound leaving that pretty mouth you had.

brushing your cheek along your bed set, dark curls dancing around your face and a pout on your lips, you whimper, “strawberry.”

“mhm,” your stomach flips when you felt his hand drift between your inner thigh, toji’s tongue skidding over your lips the same time his fingers apply pressure to your clit, rubbing in circles after he pulls your panties to the side, your babydoll resting pretty on top of the rolls on your back. your fists are balled tightly in your restraints, widening your mouth to suck on his tongue before giving him a deep kiss. the image on your face is pure dizziness. acting like your fucked dumb while barely being fucked. he couldn’t wait to see you crumble.

you squirm under his touch, breath growing short and shaky, toji maintaining eye contact with you dangerously. he’s big on it, and it makes you shy, yet brave enough to endure it.

“you hear yourself, girl?” toji hisses, pecking your lips hard, his fingers coated with your slick the more he rubbed. you whine, arching your ass even closer to his hand. “you’re so needy for me, it’s cute.”

it’s ridiculous that you can’t even speak, him turning you into nothing but a whiny, whimpering sub. “you’re desperate for my touch, for my tongue.” he whispered, his voice growing even rougher as his own need grew.

“mmm, yes. need it so bad,” you pout, mouth gaping after he spanks your clit lightly. “fuck, please eat it, baby.”

“i will good girl.”

he didn’t hesitate for another second, sliding behind you with one knee pressed into the bed and his big hands holding you still, spreading your cheeks further apart and cussing under his breath from how fucking cute your pussy was. fat, and glistening in your juices, clit hiding between your folds giving him something to search for. “g’na fuckin’ kill me, angel. pretty fuckin’ pussy you got.”

you scoot up as much as you can, hands still bound behind your back, wanting to cry from the inability to move, but loving that he had you at his mercy. his hair covers his eyes and he’s submerged into you, pressing his mouth to your pussy in a sweet kiss, like he’s knocking politely, before running his thick, long tongue over you slowly. a groan resounded devilishly, toji lapping at your dripping clit, tongue hot and your toes can do nothing but curl.

he’s slow and deliberate, enjoying the sounds and reactions he was getting out of you as you writhed and quivered under his ministrations. your pussy and his mouth makes up the loudest voice in the room, so fucking sweet and wet he’s salivating over you. spanking you, taking his time to devour you as he swallows your cunt whole, tongue gliding from your clit all the way to your hole. occasionally dipping his tongue into you to fuck you like that. your eyes cross, a broken cry making him lose it.

“keep bouncing that ass back, baby. fuck, fuck my face, angel,” he’s hitting you again, and you can’t take it, shifting your thighs to roll your ass back onto his gorgeous face. you’re panting like an animal, jaw dropping as he keeps his mouth on your clit, sucking it hard and groaning into your cunt, the vibrations traveling up your spine.

“oh . . god, oooh god,” the gasp in your throat became high pitched, toji licking you faster when he sees you giving your utmost effort. continuing his onslaught on your sensitive clit, swollen and satiating his taste buds. his fingers dug into your thighs, lowering himself completely to sit on his knees before you, rocking you back on his face as he eats it, unrelenting. sucking, licking, slurping, drowning his tongue inside of you . . . damn, it’s fucking good.

“c-cumming,” he can barely hear you as you stuff your face into the bed, toji’s head bouncing as you settle your feet on his shoulders and rock back on his face even quicker, groaning. “don’t stop, don’t s-stop, babyyy.”

“mhm hmm,” he’s moaning into your pussy, kissing and tonguing you down until you finally burst, your hands in their constraint balling into fists, getting the chance to latch onto his black hair once he pushes you flat on your stomach to bury his face completely between your ass and thighs. “let it out, baby.”

his chin glistened from your juices, toji groaning the rougher you tugged at his scalp, dick jumping in his jeans he needed to unravel soon. when you cum, you do this thing where you squeal and gasp at once, and he swears it’s the cutest thing he’s ever fucking heard. lifting his face, he licks his lips proudly, wiping his chin and patting your ass to watch it shake in his palm. you were a lovely display beneath him, and he couldn’t help but feel a sense of ownership over you.

he reached down and traced a finger along the length of your trembling leg, his dominant presence still overwhelming. he brings his hand to the back of your neck which you arched into his touch, his eyes darkening at your silent plea. “you want more?”

“nn, yea,” a breathless giggle falls from you, toji dragging you to sit at your knees by the grip on your neck and around your chest with his forearm, back hitting his chest again, and your eyes come into contact with the camera, almost forgetting it was there.

“show them what i did to your pussy, angel. let them see how perfect you are,” toji whispers, tapping at your knees to help you sit on your behind.

“okay,” the words are small again, because that’s how he makes you feel. once you sit, you raise your knees to your chest, toji lifting your babydoll to show your soft tummy and the pink lights from your vanity mirror glowing on the angles and curves of your body. you look like the finest art.

it’s liberating seeing yourself like this, a sense of relief washing over you when he begins to unloose the belt, humming elatedly and arching into him, your periwinkle painted toes twinkling in the air playfully. toji laughs at you, your hand coming to your cunt to cover it out of fake shyness, rolling to lay on your side and giggling to yourself. you really did know how to play a role, or maybe you’re just naturally silly.

toji unfastened his button before drifting his zipper down, thick thighs spread and arms bulky as he kept them in fists into the bed, tilting his head in your direction as he sat beside you, body taking up half the bed. you sit on your knees next to him, your hands running across his stomach and lifting up his shirt, toji licking his lips when your nails delicately scratch at his hips. you moan when his hand comes into contact with your hair, your nails digging into the broadness of his thigh.

as he guided your head down, you could feel the heat coming off of his body. you could smell the unique scent of masculinity wafting off of him. the feeling of his fingers running through your hair sent tingles down your spine, his touch tender and affectionate despite his dominating demeanor. your chest fluttered when his thumb touched your lower lip, your breath stuttering and your body quivering, a heat rising in your core all over. you felt the need for him grow stronger, pulling your lip downward. he shifted his fingers and tilted your chin up further, exposing your throat and neck to him. then he leans over, his free hand coming up to cup the back of your head as his mouth latches onto your neck. pressing light kisses along the sensitive skin, his tongue grazing out and your skin pricks with fire.

“can’t stop tasting you,” he grunts, his lips and tongue on your throat licking hard, driving you insane with need. his hand holding the back of your neck in a possessive manner, keeping you in place as his mouth explored your sensitive skin.

“toji. .” your voice is weak, feeling your inner thighs drown in a puddle of your arousal. “wanna suck it.”

“i’m sorry, what was that?” he hums.

“don’t tease,” you roll your eyes and pout.

“mhm,” he lets out a little grunt as his eyes rake over you, his breath catching slightly as he stares at you. he runs his hand down to your waist, gripping fervently. “so pretty,” he murmurs.

“thank you,” you whisper, feeling a strong rush of affection for him. “you’re so handsome,” you say, your voice low and tender.

“g’na give it a good kiss, baby? real good?” he hisses, your hand pulling at his jeans to sit lower on his sharp hips, letting his dick free and watching it with a watered mouth as it sat against his tummy. heavy, thick, two veins protruding on either side. you fucking knew he was big. bless your intuition.

“yes, want it,” you plead.

a low growl escaped his throat. “show me you want it then,” he purrs, his eyes growing darker with desire and his grip on your hip tightening.

the salivation in your mouth gave you just what you needed to do the job, widening your mouth to accommodate his size, drooling over his dick as you pull him in as deep as you could to start. half of him enclosed by the warmth of your mouth and instantly toji moans from the feel, your cheek sucking in while you guide your head up and down, keeping your hands to yourself, one on his thigh for balance. your eyes are closed to focus, humming and dragging your mouth slow to make him feel it all. toji catches himself knocking his head back, pulling the sheets between his fingertips and scrunching his brows together, stomach caving in.

he can hear you slurp and suck at him needily, moaning around him and riding the air with your ass, spit gliding down to the base of his dick as your tongue sticks out to drag along the under of his shaft, bobbing your head and licking at him. something about giving him head in specific felt intoxicating. maybe it’s the sounds he makes; guttural yet whiny. the desperation begs to tug at his throat, shifting his hips blindly and cussing under his breath. eventually, his fingers find their way back to your scalp, toji sitting up and entangling both hands into your hair, face curated in pleasure with eyes wired shut and a gaped jaw.

“shit, ꒰♡꒱. that’s fuckin’ good, doll,” toji grunts, your moans around him encompassing him to briefly detangle a hand to spank against your ass in clear indulgence. “damn.”

your hand couldn’t help but travel to touch him, wrapping your hand around the base of his dick to stroke your hand according to the pace your mouth drags. that gravitational wave in his abdomen hit, a deep ‘your suckin’ it so good’ fleeing from his mouth followed by another harsh spank and a steady tug at your scalp to push you down only enough to follow your rhythm. when he hits the back of your throat, you force yourself to hold him there for a few seconds, purposely constricting your throat to hear him moan for you again, and again. his sounds addicting.

toji chuckles from how good you’re doing, raising your head to breathe before swallowing only the tip while stroking the remainder, your salvia being enough lubricant to quickly move your wrist. twisting and tugging while keeping it mostly on the head of his cock, the sensitive spot your toy to play with as you give teasing kitty licks, two hands covering him now.

picking your head up momentarily, you stare into his eyes with your siren ones, low and dangerous. pulling at his dick while you bite your lips before kissing him, mewling when he shoves his tongue into your mouth, pulling your body closer by your ass, the other grabbing the side of your face he practically swallowed into his own. the kiss is feverish, something straight out of a movie. he’s highly infatuated with you, tasting himself off of you with the mixture of yourself. toji sucks on your lower lip, and you find yourself positioning your thigh over his to sit and grind on his leg. you had enough of the foreplay, you needed him to fuck you.

“fuck me,” a whimper escapes, pressing your body down harder onto him, hand still stroking at him, that fucking voice of yours driving him mad. he doesn’t think he’ll last if you keep it up. “toji. . . toji.”

“stop begging,” he shuts it down quickly, the sound of his boots hitting the floor as he kicks them off exciting you. of course you couldn’t hide the smile, feening innocence as you pet at his jeans to help him remove them.

he's only in his black shirt now, your eyes following how his muscles swallowed the material, showcasing every sharp cut of his upper body. he made you dizzy, truly. that slit on the side of his mouth curving with his mouth as he smirks at you for getting lost in your cute little dream land.

“focus, love,” toji reels you back in, his hand on your lower back to arch your chest into his, dragging you to straddle him. if he could see the blush on your face he’d see that you were red as a tomato, his dick sitting right beneath you and you can’t help but shudder. “need you to lift your hips, help daddy out.”

“kay,” you nod like a damn bobble head, laying your hands on his shoulders and balancing yourself on your tippy toes, wrapping your arms around his neck for extra security. toji’s large arm his thrown around your waist to keep you locked to him, both of your body heat scorching.

he catches a hold of his dick, pumping it twice before he’s rubbing the fat tip against your drenched opening, collecting your flow before a soft gasp emits past your lips when you feel him gently enter, sinking you down carefully, little by little. the sensation from the stretch is . . like a fantasy. your foreheads are touching, breaths mingling as he removes his hand to balance the two of you on the bed, leaning back somewhat for your comfortability.

when you think he’s fully apart of you, that thought is knocked down the minute he utters, “c‘mon, girl. you gotta lot more to take.”

“oh my god,” the shock is out of, well, shock. he feels really good already, it’s gonna be hell if you handle any more. embedding your nails into his clothing, chin resting between the crook of his neck while you ground your ass back to make it easier for him to slip completely in. the two of you groan in sync, toji’s arm tightening around your waist from how tight you felt.

the more you rock, slow, steady, it fucks the both of you up. holding tightly onto one another while toji lets you take your time, the heavy breathing and hearts beating rapidly is fucking poetic. one might call this act making love. once you drop your ass entirely, that pressure in your sweet spot causes you to scream out softly, losing balance and sitting on your knees, holding onto him with an unexpected whine.

“shit, baby, you alright?” he’s immediately checking in on you, bringing you up and make eye contact, hands holding either side of your face and scanning for signs. pushing away the fact that you’re convulsing around his dick and trying his best not to fuck you hard. yet, at least.

again, you can’t even speak. your mouth is wide open, nodding and breathing heavily, shifting your hips and grind onto him, flexing your ass when you arch your back deeper before lifting halfway and slamming yourself down. toji chokes, face copying yours as he grips onto the sheets and places his arm back around you, helping you lift yourself.

“you feel . . really good, baby. stuffing me full,” you moan, toji grunting and yanking you up and down faster, losing his patience now. it blew out the fucking window the minute he slipped inside you. he fixates on the sound of your pussy sliding and swallowing his dick, the slick making his tongue water for the taste all over. you’re so fucking sweet it’s insane.

“yeah?” he lets out a low, guttural groan and grips your hips even harder, his breaths coming out in deep gasps. “fuck me like you fucked that toy, thinking of me.”

that makes you smile, that insecurity of him seeing that video earlier disappearing as you take both of your small hands and wrap them around his throat, using your weight to push his body so he falls onto his back, his hands cupping the curves under your ass cheeks. toji usually isn’t one for submission, but he’s been thinking for a while about trying new shit, and a pretty girl like you choking and fucking him was only the start. you see the look in his eyes, and you feel heat sweltering inside of you even more, relishing the fact that you are the one in control, applying more pressure to his neck, loving the way his breath hitches.

“you want me to fuck you just like that?” you lick your lips and grind teasingly, the dangerous swirl of your hips making his head sink further into the bed.

“want you to fuck me like that, angel. gimme a show.”

and you won’t deny his wish. positioning yourself back on the tips of your toes, his hands are smoothing underneath your thighs, clutching on either sides as you with his eyes going dark, his hips bucking. he can barely string a thought together, his mind completely consumed by the sensations you’re sending through him. your pussy takes it all while you pounce your body above him, rolling your waist each time you dip your ass down and meet his thighs.

“fuck, you feel so good,” he grunts, his voice thick with pleasure, eyes never leaving yours before his voice rasps out, “keep going. fuck me for real. like you want it. it’s yours.”

you let out a strangled gasp, body jerking and mind almost slipping away, the pleasure he’s giving you overwhelming and consuming you completely. his hands on your body clench harder, the warmth from his body on yours killing you.

“just like that,” his hands move at their own possession now, slamming down on your ass repeatedly to bruise your skin, the hits vibrating straight to your clit and it’s making you drunk. your eyes scroll back into your skull, his appraisal driving you to work for it faster.

“t-toji, i’m so wet for you,” you gasp in shock from the slickness between you two. “look what you did to me. you slide in and out so easily.”

“f-fuck, doll. you’re killing me talkin’ like that,” he lets out a strangled gasp at your words, voice ragged and eyes filled with need. “you like it that much, baby?”

“y-yes!” a squeal sounds from you, bouncing heavier than before, your voice getting caught in your throat from the impact. you clutch any part of his skin you can grab, losing yourself in the way he fills you. “i love your dick, baby. makes me feel prettier.”

hazy eyes filled with pleasure admire your features, fucked out already when he still has so much he wanted to do to you. give you what you deserve. a smirk tugs at his lips, sitting up and leaning in close, missing the skin contact. his voice low and rough as he says, “you look prettier when you’re sitting on my dick.”

“yeah,” you drunkenly nod. “s’mine.”

toji raises a brow with amusement. “it can be yours. when you cum on it real hard.”

wanting him even closer to you, you keep only one hand around his neck, placing the other on his forearm and pressing your chest to his entirely as you gyrate your hips and tease his neck, hovering over his skin with your mouth and teeth before you leave little love-bites on his skin. toji guides your hips in a circular motion, the simple switch up making you gasp and whine into his ear, hitting that spot repeatedly.

“god, baby,” you feel his guidance, his grip on your hips firm as he moves you. you ride against him, the friction on your clit making you whimper weakly, his deep voice in your ear making your body shake, feeling another orgasm develop. “i love it. s’fucking me so good.”

“see you movin’ just like you did for me on that mirror,” he wraps his hand around your neck, squeezing firmly. your eyes lock, yours clouded by arousal, his with an agenda. “fuckin’ yourself like that . . ima fuck you real bad for that,” toji hissed, swiping his tongue across his lower lip before aggressively smacking your ass. “i feel that fuckin’ pussy squeezing me tighter. if you’re g’na cum then do it on me. gush all on it.”

the more your body reacts to his praise, and sprinkles of degradation, the faster your orgasm approaches you, washing over you hard as your body spasmes from the intensity of it. your teeth sink into his shoulder as you scream, riding out your high, squeezing hard on his arms. toji kisses your temple, keeping you close as he falls back and lays on his side while turning you to face your camera you’d both forgotten about, still did.

“you did so well,” the kisses continue around your face while your brains on autopilot, his hand clasping around your neck as he presses his hot chest against your back. his kisses are so aggressive it makes you feel small and wanting to obey. you jump when he spanks you, moaning weakly into your shoulder with your arms halfway hanging off the bed.

toji goes lift your right leg to adjust himself behind you, dick achingly hard and covered in your juices, slipping back inside of you fully before angling your knee towards your tummy, keeping a hand locked under the bend of your knee, your skin smooth to the touch. you smell good too. everything about you besotted him. your hand touches his face, tugging it closer to the point where his nose smushed against your cheek, dark hair clouding your eyesight as his big frame overtakes yours.

“you’re gonna kill me,” you whisper, eyes focused on each other, a giggle creeping up.

“not you,” he whispered back, rolling his waist back and forth, grinding deeper into you. the plush of your ass molding against his sharp hips. his lips brush on your neck as he kisses and nibbles at your sensitive skin. your hands roam over your body, touching and exploring every inch of yourself as his lips trail down your collarbone, darkly watching as your hand presses on your clit. “her.”

as he possessively holds you in place, he’s prepared you enough before he’s fucking you hard, knocking the wind from your throat completely. a hard gasp falls past your lips as toji slams his hips against your ass, knitting his brows together, squeezing his eyes shut while his mouth falls open. the utter silence both of your voices held at the moment was more powerful than the rough interaction of your skin. your eyes a ghost white as he pounds his dick into you hard. when a noise is made, it’s from equal parts, syncing your eager moans.

“ooh, fuck baby. you’re taking it,” he huskily whispers into your ear, his words punctuated by the way he continues to move into you. “sucking me so deep. m’not going nowhere.”

“to-ji,” his name is broken down by the harsh pounds he fucks you with, whining and moaning in his entrapment. your vision gone. “i love the way you fuck me. you fuck me so good.”

he fucks like he’s not letting up, his body pushing you deeper into the mattress, the grip around your neck remains tight, the feeling of his ownership only growing more intense. his body is hovering over yours now, digging deep as he can to fuck you real good, to make himself feel it all. your body remains to the side, only half twisted as he drops your leg and pushes his weight into you so your stomach is close to grazing the bed.

“s’too much, fuck . . i, i—” the words are caught in your throat from the overstimulation. breathing heavy, tears begin to fill your sockets, whining his name loudly in his face like you’d lost your mind for good this time. this pleasure was something you hadn’t felt in a long time. it’s everything you needed and more.

toji shushes you, kissing your nose as he grips your face, big hand almost covering it whole. “you like when daddy takes control? you like when he tells you what to do?”

toji will admit, you’ve got him fucking spent. it’s been a long time since he’s had a woman submit and cry under him, and you do all those things well. the gorgeous image on your face, to the salacious movement of your body. the softness of your skin and the equal relation of your voice. capturing and captivating him. you’d think he was on drugs the way he was talking. high off his ass from your pussy. his lips gently brush over your ear. your eyes flutter, his voice attacking your clit, and you swear it makes it gush even more, soaking the sheets underneath your ass. “when he makes you his? you like being my good girl, pretty?”

he knows you can’t speak anymore, but you’re still interactive with your body language. the slur of your nonexistent words to the way you try to roll your ass back to fuck him back . . but he’s got you trapped. even the tears falling down your face from overwhelming pleasure. he knows you’re okay, asking for a safe word prior for your protection. you’re a big girl, he knows you can handle it.

“nnng,” you can’t stop trembling, gasping for air and sobbing in his face. toji places his forehead on yours, looking into your eyes and nodding, cooing. you are fucked dumbed. toji hisses, hitting your ass and pausing momentarily to look between where you two collide, an ‘oh my god’ faltering out. he’s as gone as you are.

“you so fuckin’ creamy, girl,” toji drags out a frustrated hum, getting annoyed by how good your pussy is. you’re going to become a problem.

“please,” you don’t even know what you’re saying it for. do you need him to stop, do you want more, or are you just completely fucked out you’re saying anything that’s coming to your head? that butterfly feeling is back in your stomach, as well as a foreign one near your clit, knowing exactly what’s going to happen. “toji, m’ g’na c-cummm. oh my god, babyy.”

your hiccups and sobs only urge him to fuck you even harder, loving how the breath literally jumps out of your throat in shock.

“cryin’ on this dick. fuck, you got me going crazy,” he really doesn’t want to cum yet, he needed to fuck you in every way imaginable. but he knows you need a break, to breathe for sure. he wanted to edge himself so that when he finally came, it’d be the best fucking orgasm of his life. your moans are clawing at his soul, so filthy and dulcet. you’re making it really fucking difficult to obtain that.

toji finds himself slamming his palm over your mouth to bury them in a way, but you’re so damn loud it’s getting to him. ‘fuck fuck fuck’ he’s cussing repeatedly in a whispered hush as he fucks you as hard he possibly can. his hand doesn’t even work, because you’re consuming him wholly and the minute he feels that build up, he pulls out to cum and you’ve drenched the sheets as you squirt. an almost blood curdling scream surrounds the room, your body rapidly trembling as your mouth falls open in utter shock, gasping, whining, whimpering, moaning his fucking name while he moaned yours. toji nutting up the entire side of your body, wrist twisting as he holds you body still, mouth drawn open.

his hand reaches over to unclamp your legs, heavy hand rubbing your pussy to stimulate you further, your back arching and head sinking into your pillow, crying out. he watches your hand flail to grip his wrist as your wetness continues to spurt out of you like water.

“strawberry!” toji listens to you weep, choking on your cries and pleads. finally having enough.

“holy s-shit,” you’re laughing while also trying to catch your breath, not believing that just happened. he can tell by the shock in your face that you’ve never had it happen before, or that much.

“damn,” he laughs along with you, smacking your outer thigh before smashing his lips to yours in a deep kiss, gliding your tongues together while his hands massaged every part of your body after allowing you to lay on your back. caressing and soothing you to calm you down. “gonna grab a rag.”

you pout when he goes to stand, already missing the disconnect as you lay empty on your . . messy bed. absolutely disgusting you two, hawk puth! one things for sure, you can’t keep that wide ass smile off your face. he comes back into the room, one of your pink towels wrapped around his midsection covering up that demon of a dick he carried. toji smirks down at you, grabbing your ankle and tugging you down to the edge of the bed before he’s taking a warm rag that smelt of your dove beauty bar to wipe what he painted on you. you swallow your lower lip into your mouth, watching with hooded eyes as he drags the rag sensually along ever part of your skin. you flinch when it comes to contact with your cunt, toji kissing your inner thigh with a ‘sorry’. he admires the curves of your body even more, kissing your ankle adorned with a silver anklet after he finishes.

“how you feeling?” he asks.

“i’m more than perfect.”

he hums. “you’re something else.”

“i was good?” you ask seriously, batting your lashes shyly.

toji stares at you as if you’re deadass. “don’t do that. you know you were. you didn’t hear me? i fuck you deaf?”

that makes you roll your eyes, but not before giggling. “hate you.”

“you won’t after i tell you i got chinese in the kitchen,” he winks, the light in your eyes making his heart swell. “c’mon, sexy.”

you sit up, gasping. “i knew i fucking smelt that shit when you came in. i thought it was outside!”

“nah, i realized i didn’t eat shit at the restaurant earlier so i decided to get us both something. did you even eat your salad?”

“i did, had to after you dropped a whole hundred,” you shake your head. “how’d you know i liked chinese?”

toji blinks. “baby, we literally talked half of this week. for hours. i have good memory.”

that slip of a nickname outside of sex warmed your chest, burying your face in your hair to hide your shyness. “you’re right.”

“don’t hide now, i’ve seen it all,” he chuckles, tickling the bottom of your foot.

“oh, whatever!” you chuck one of your plushies at him, half of them had fallen to the floor. toji gets up to grab your robe he saw hanging on the bathroom door, draping it around you as you stood.

he kisses your forehead and you walk ahead of him into the kitchen, screeching when he hit and gripped your ass, the two of you forgetting about the livestream altogether as you warmed up the food, poured a glass of wine and reminisced about what just happened.

angelbwrry live : 1M viewers.

#𝜗ৎ ˚⋅ 𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖜𝖇𝖊𝖗𝖗𝖞 𝖈𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖓 𝖔𝖋 𝖉𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖒𝖘.#jjk #toji x you #toji x reader #toji x black reader #toji smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro x you #toji x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji fushigro x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk x black reader

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starkeyisthelastname · 3 months

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dealer!rafe x reader when he gets out of jail😵‍💫

get ready to get pounded 😜

Rafe had been in an out of jail many times, it wasn’t anything new to him. Drug trafficking, burglary charges, assault with a deadly weapon, attempted murder. Yet somehow him being Rafe Cameron, he got away with everything. His daddy was rich and powerful and so was he. He had the best lawyers and Ward may or may not have done some shady arrangements to always get Rafe’s charges cleared.

It was new for you though, and the last three weeks without him was starting to make you wonder if he was going to get out. You had only gotten to visit him once, wanting to cry at having to see your boyfriend wearing orange. He did make it look good though, white wife beater hung tightly against his broad chest and orange scrub pants that read Kildare County Jail in faded black letters, hugged his toned hips. He reassured you that he was fine and people knew better than to fuck with him in there.

After working some kind deal out with the DA, Rafe was a freeman again, and oh was he showing you just how much he missed you. Laid back against the king size bed, you were getting the best dick down a girl could ask for. He had had your legs bent back, knees nearly touching your chest as he pounded into you. Your head fell back, eyes fluttering closed as the pleasure was almost too much to handle. Almost 4 weeks without sex for the both of you, and the two you had a lot of making up to do.

“Daddy…” You mewled, a kitten like whine leaving your sparkly lips as your baby pink nails dug into the expensive sheets. He felt so fucking good, quite literally fucking you numb as he fucked the built up tension after being locked in a cell surrounded by men for the last few weeks.

You felt his hand grab your chin, forcing you to bring your eyes back to him all while his thrusts continued to abuse your wanting hole. “Keep those eyes on me ma, daddy wants to see your pretty face while he fucks you.” He breathed out.

Your long lashes fluttered back open, focusing on your man. He looked too good with the pricy chain back around his neck, toned abs flexing with each thrust, his cheeks pink from the building heat he was feeling in his gut. You couldn’t help but reach out to touch him, your acrylic nails running over his muscular arms as he held your curvy hips firmly. “Missed you… missed daddy’s dick.” You mumbled, earning a small laugh above you.

Rafe looked down, watching your pretty soaked hole creaming on his dick as he slid in and out. He had never had a girl to come home to after jail, always settling for some random hook up to get his nut in. But you were his princess, the same one that had the house cleaned, fresh clothes picked out for him, a meal cooked knowing he had only been eating shitty jail food for almost a month. Here you were making love to a thug, taking his pipe like a good girl not asking him shit about what he did or the kind of person he really was. He planned on making you his wife, you just didn’t know it yet.

“What the fuck have you done to me, baby girl.” He whispered, a low groan coming from his throat as he felt you clench down onto him.

#rafe cameron #dealer!rafe #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron blurb #rafe concepts #rafe smut #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey smut #obx #obx smut #outer banks

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cozage · 1 year

Note

congrats on 2k!! for the event, I was wondering for option one, with Sanji, zoro Luffy and laws reaction to their s/o covering their face with kisses, leaving lipstick marks?

Characters: gn reader x Sanji, Zoro, Luffy, Law Total word count: 730

Lipstick Stains

Sanji

Oh you already know this man is inches within his life. Nothing gets him so weak in the knees like physical touch and affection.

He relishes in your kisses during the moment, letting you go on as long as you want. You can never give him too many kisses, really.

After the fact, any time he passes by a mirror, he stops to admire your love and your handiwork. He just stares at all the marks you left on him for a few minutes, his hands lightly passing over each one.

Some of the crewmates (Zoro and Usopp) make fun of him, but he just smirks and says “What, boys? Jealous?”

He struggles to wash it off. He’s a very clean person, but he hates to wash his face after you’ve marked it all up. You can very often find light traces of your lipstick still across his face the next day because he scrubbed so gently while bathing.

Zoro

Whenever you cover his face with kisses, Zoro…tolerates it. He doesn’t love it, but he doesn’t hate it either.

Unfortunately for him, he doesn’t look at himself in the mirror much, so he doesn’t notice the red-stained marks you had left all over his face in the process.

A few things tipped him off when he went down to dinner, though. Sanji is stifling a laugh at him, which isn’t uncommon. But Robin is also giving him a cheeky grin. Usopp and Luffy are both looking anywhere but at him, trying not to burst into laughter.

And you…your cheeks are flushed red with embarrassment. He rushes to the bathroom and looks at himself in horror. It took him a minute to realize exactly what was all over his face, and he let out a small string of curses as he grabbed a towel and desperately scrubbed at them.

He comes back to dinner, his face beet red (from embarrassment and excessive scrubbing), and sits down next to you, pretending like nothing happened.

After that, he always ALWAYS checks himself in the mirror after you come visit him.

Luffy

Luffy loves to battle with you on who can give the other person more kisses. Everything is always a game with him.

He wears your kisses around without even knowing it for a while, until Nami says something about it.

At her words, he rushes to the mirror and looks, admiring his face and all the proof of your love. He’s kind of jealous that you can mark your kisses so easily.

That’s when he gets an idea. The next time you two have a kissing war, he offers to put on lipstick as well, that way you can tell for sure who won.

And that way, you get to see proof of his love too.

The two of you parade around the ship with your faces covered in shades of red and pink, showing off your new designs and laughing the entire time.

Law

Law is not a man who enjoys physical touch. But if you’re alone…he’ll allow it. Sometimes, he might even enjoy it.

Especially if he’s in his study and you come in and curl up in his lap, softly kissing his face to try and get him to come to bed. You can be very persuasive.

“Go on to bed,” he finally says, shutting his book. “I’m going to get some water and I’ll be in a minute.”

He doesn’t pass by a mirror, or else he would’ve noticed the new addition. Instead, Shachi, Penguin, and Bepo see it as he grabs water from the kitchen.

“Love the new look, Captain!” Shachi teases, a mischievous smile plastered on his face. “You should keep it like that!”

Law reaches up to inspect his cheeks, but he can’t feel anything. He looks at Bepo, confused.

“It’s kind of…everywhere,” Bepo says, trying his best not to crack a smile.

Law quickly rushes to a mirror and finds his face covered in lip marks. He races out of the room without another word and back to you.

“Y/N,” he says, trying not to get angry. “Next time, please inform me when you’ve…redecorated.”

You giggle and pull him into bed, adding another kiss mark to his forehead. Scrubbing it all off can be a problem for tomorrow.

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tojipie · 11 months

Text

welcome home <3

he’s unboxed ! who cheered. by far one of my most requested fics of all time. started this series 6 months ago and it remains one of my favs :,) this is by no means the end though ! i haven’t been writing any of the additions to this series in “order” and i am still 100% open to writing about his life inside/after prison lol. thank u to all the lovely ppl that have been showing love to these since april mwah mwah mwah mwah

as always, prison bf toji series linked here <3

content: (incarceration, fem reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, p in v smut, pining, road head, swallowing, creampie, dirty talk, multiple rounds)

“just step through here and—yep,” the guard waves his security want across your outstretched arms, clearing you to take your belongings from the conveyor belt.

you’d done this dance a hundred times over the past seven years, driving up to the district penitentiary twice a week to see your boyfriend—now fiancé.

toji told you he didn’t have it in him to wait, popping the question during a conjugal visit a month ago.

the man had known he’d wanted to marry you even before he got locked up. the feeling was mutual, but unspoken, always hanging in the air between the two of you.

you on the other hand had known you wanted to marry toji the moment he whispered his first “i love you,” said to you through the crackly speaker of a burner phone on a night when neither of you knew if he’d be coming home or not.

you make a beeline for the release wing, breaking into a subtle jog without drawing too much attention to yourself. the bouquet of green flowers you’d bought at the grocery store jostles in your purse, leaving a breadcrumb trail of stray petals.

there, around a bend and down the corridor stands the man of your dreams, flanked by officers and personnel at the front desk.

metal cuffs clack together as the man reaches to accept a clipboard from the release agent, skillfully uncapping the pen with his teeth to fill out the means for his freedom.

he looks up a split second before you speak, dropping the clipboard with an audible clatter. toji tears down the corridor with a look that speaks of relief beyond words.

“toji!” you yell, sprinting to the inmate with outstretched arms. you nearly trip over your own feet with how quick you barrel towards him.

warm bodies clash together at last, squeezing, cradling, and caressing every inch of each other at last. his law enforcement entourage watches from afar, some smiling, others annoyed.

you’re lifted clean off the ground as strong, tattooed arms slip over your head and around your body. thick fingers work their way into your hair, cradling your head to his shoulder.

actions speak louder than words, you know that much from how quickly he buckles, dropping to his knees with your body still wrapped around his.

toji smells different every time you come to visit. there were days when the tang of blood stuck to his skin no matter how hard he scrubbed, a telling sign of his short temper.

other days he’d smell like the earth, soil from the rec field permeating his already brown garments after his morning run.

once in a while, you’d catch hints of industrial paint and car exhaust, a smell built up from hours of making license plates for pocket change from the state. “pennies,” he’d tell you, “that’s all we fucking get in here.”

today, toji smells like himself. like the man you fell in love with 7 years ago in the passenger seat of a BMW, gazing into green eyes while gentle hands brushed the hair from your face.

you almost think he’s laughing until warm tears trickle through the porous fabric of your shirt.

strong shoulders quiver as quiet sobs rack his body, you rub his back in small circles, unable to pull away with how tight he’s holding you against his chest.

“i love you,” the inmate whimpers, wiping hot tears with his sleeve. he pulls back to press your lips together, mumbling nonsense in between kisses.

“pretty girl—m’ sorry— missed you,” his hands shake as they curl into the fabric at your waist.

you’d seen him cry exactly twice in his life. the first being the night he’d opened up to you in full for the first time, quietly relaying stories of neglect and abuse from his childhood while you kissed tears from his cheeks.

the second was well, the day he went away.

to see him break down like this so openly was devastating. he hated being emotional, told you it was humiliating. you’re sure he felt more than vulnerable, the leader of the city’s biggest drug ring, crumpled on the floor of a prison hallway

“it’s okay baby,” you tell him, still rubbing circles into his skin.

to touch him like this, at last, was unlike anything the two of you had been allowed to experience for the past 7 years. this wasn’t your two legally allowed hugs at the beginning and end of your visits, or a quick fuck in a storage closet.

this was love. to hold and be held in front of law enforcement personnel without threat of being reprimanded. this was the first time you had been allowed to feel him under the tips of your fingers with an audience, publicly declaring your claim on each other without fear.

you never blamed toji for what had happened, as angry as you were that first year. he blamed himself enough for the both of you really.

you’d come to learn over the years that it had already been too late for him to get out of his line of work way before you’d found each other, a cycle he couldn’t break.

prison was always a possibility, inevitable even. that’s just how it was.

you slowly gather your purse off the ground, cellophane-wrapped flowers coming into view.

“for me?” he laughs, slightly embarrassed. dark green carnations, just like his eyes.

“who else?” you tease, watching the distress melt from his face.

you share a look briefly, yours saying you’re safe with me. his saying i know.

the soft clicks of black work boots pull you from your thoughts, a female officer in tow.

“you guys ready to get started?” she asks softly, shooting you a sympathetic look.

toji stands with a chuckle, not letting you respond. silver cuffs dig into the meat of your thighs as you’re carried back to the group.

˚ ✧ ───────────

half an hour of paperwork for his freedom. that’s what you give the prison in exchange for his belongings and dignity.

the waiting room is quiet, sterile air filtering through dated vents. calloused fingers rub over your ankle, legs propped up in his lap.

“feels like a hospital in here,” he mumbles, trying to cut through the silence.

the cuffs are gone, thank god. though you’re more than unhappy with the marks they left on his wrists. toji doesn’t seem to mind, used to almost a decade of this treatment.

the release desk worker slides you two a yellow bag under the glass divider once you finish your task, pointing you in the direction of the bathrooms in case toji wanted to change.

the inmate—no, ex-inmate you remind yourself— hands you the bag with a disinterested look.

he doesn’t want to remember, you realize. too scared to wear the suit he had on the day the world took you from him. you quickly trash the old clothes and hold out your shoulder bag to him, fresh clothes neatly folded inside.

“always prepared huh?” toji smiles, grateful at the gesture. “haven’t changed a bit.”

you wait a couple of minutes outside the single-stall bathroom, physically picking your jaw up off the floor when he emerges.

to say that his old shirt fit would be... egregiously wrong. blasphemous even.

toji’s shirt doesn’t just “not fit”, it’s bursting at the seams as it struggles to accommodate his hulking form, stretching over plains of corded muscle like a rubber band pulled too tight.

seeing him so often had likely gotten your brain used to the change, preventing you from realizing how fucking big your fiancé had gotten. truly.

the black garment is so tight against his body that it’s practically a second skin. you make note of the way it molds into the dips and curves of his abs, mentally reminding yourself to get him to wear it for you later.

you suppose the change makes sense. if toji wasn’t with you on a day visit he was always in his cell, sticking to a strict workout regimen to take his mind off things. still, you rack your brain trying to pinpoint how and when such a massive transformation slipped your mind.

a tattooed hand snaps you out of your trance, cradling your cheek.

“you focused?” your fiancé teases, rubbing circles into your jaw with his thumb.

“i think that thing’s gonna explode if you move,” you swat his hand away.

“would you rather i take it off to be safe?” he asks, jutting a thumb behind him at the waiting room desk.

the workers make no attempt to hide their oggling, faces pressed against the glass barrier separating your party from theirs.

“no— god keep it on,” you mutter, shooting them a nasty look.

“you and your girlfriend ready to go fushiguro?” an officer says, holding the door open for the both of you. toji squats down momentarily to get a grip on your thighs, folding you over his shoulder to carry you fireman style.

“wife,” he corrects, shouldering past the guard and trudging down the corridor with calculated steps.

the coos that ring out from the help desk are humiliating.

waxed tile fades into worn concrete as the two of you pass the threshold into the prison parking lot, your soon-to-be-husband muttering a curt “go fuck yourselves” to the officers who’d wished him good luck on his way out the door.

you’re proud of him for holding his tongue, in a way. knowing toji and his temper there were a hundred more creative and undoubtedly gruesome things he could have said to the personnel who’d kept him locked up for the better half of a decade.

the world flips right side up again as you’re gently placed on your feet in front of the car.

toji raises his head to the sky, basking in the warmth of the afternoon sun.

“s’ nice,” he mumbles, reaching to intertwine your hands. “felt the sun during rev time but.. not like this.”

you hum, rubbing your thumb over tattooed knuckles.

“get ready to experience a lot more sun then,” you giggle. “wanna have a look at the car?” the question is more of a rhetorical one at this point considering he’s already running his hand over the hood with a whistle.

“haven’t seen this baby in a while,” he smiles, internally gushing at your choice to welcome him to the world in the car he used to drive you home the night you met. your fiancé doesn’t have to say thank you, you know how grateful he is from his smile alone.

he falters for a bit, looking like a newborn fawn with how careful his steps are as he circles the vehicle. you figure wearing proper shoes instead of rubber slides must feel at least a little abnormal after 7 long years.

“alright,” toji states, rolling his shoulders in his too-tight top. “fuck are we waiting for, i wanna go home.”

˚ ✧ ───────────

you pay no mind to toji the first time he turns to look at you, opening his mouth to say something before slumping back into his seat with a frustrated sigh.

the fourth time it happens, you speak up.

“what are you doing?” you laugh, eyeing him from the driver's seat

“getting rubbed to death by my fucking zipper,” he mutters, repositioning his lower half to take the pressure off his cock. his frustration isn’t aimed at you in the slightest, all blame placed on his bottoms.

oh.. oh.

the whirlwind of emotions toji had gone through in the past 3 hours alone had taken a toll on his mind and body. but tasting the first morsels of freedom with you, alone in a car that smelled like you? you’d be worried if he wasn’t hard.

you had no problem helping his little problem go away, the question was how soon.

the idea that piques on you is absolutely shameful, you’re not even sure where it came from but you don’t have it in you to care.

you know this road, you’ve used it a thousand times to make the trip up to the penitentiary. judging by how long you’d been driving you’d say there was about 10 minutes left before ruler-straight tar merged into the twists and turns of the suburbs.

“when did your license expire?” you ask, cautiously peering in the rearview mirror. good, no cars.

“3 years ago,” he laughs, “why?”

fuck it, you think.

“you still remember how to steer?”

“course i d— oh.”

it finally dawns on him. you smile, shooting him a look that says “want to?”

you’re sure you have your answer judging by how quick he shucks his jeans and boxers down, freeing his cock from its confines.

“oh fuck,” he groans, struggling to keep his eyes open as your mouth presses against his base.

your fiancé steers while your head bobs just beneath the dash, one hand on the wheel and the other placed firmly at the crown of your head, guiding you up and down the shaft.

your throat flexes around the intrusion, fighting the hulking feeling of his length mercilessly fucking into your mouth.

“fuck, perfect girl— my girl,” he shudders, hips moving to buck into your slick throat.

“gonna cum, gonna— shit,”

fingers kissed in dark ink massage your throat softly, urging you to swallow the hot load coating every inch of your mouth. you flutter around his length, pulling back to clean him off with your tongue.

“fucks gotten into you, pretty girl?” he whispers, so out of breath you barely hear him.

˚ ✧ ───────────

you barely make it up the steps of the house before you’re shoved against the door, tattooed hands groping up and down your body with fervor.

“keys,” he says against your lips, “keys—fuck, now,” his voice is hoarser this time, desperation clear.

you whip around to jam the item into the lock, not unaware of the rock-hard dick grinding into your jean-clad ass from behind.

you’re being carried to the couch before you even step off the doormat, a stray throw blanket cushioning your fall as you’re pressed into squeaky leather.

“won’t be gentle,” toji groans, ripping your jeans and panties down in one fluid motion.” can’t right now.”

“don’t be.” you say, rucking his shirt off his body surprisingly quick. “wouldn’t want you to.”

you needed him, needed toji to have his way with you. to christen your home round after round until you couldn’t feel where his body and yours ended.

when it came down to it, you suppose

he smiles at the crude admission, rubbing the head of his cock up and down your drenched folds.

“filthy,” he mutters, said almost lovingly. toji grips his base and sinks to the hilt with a sharp groan, shuddering at the heat of your walls.

the stretch is delicious, filling you from every angle and pressing right against that special spot. you’re surprised at how easily he slams in, though you’re embarrassed to admit it was entirely because of how soaked you were.

toji immediately pulls back with a flick of his hips, pistoning into you like his life depends on it.

he hasn’t changed, you think. still so incredibly in tune with your body, skills that would put a pornstar to shame.

this was better than some quick closeted fuck under the cover of night after slipping a guard a rubber band of cash. this was primal, filthy. two bodies writhing against each other, the only goal being complete and utter pleasure.

toji makes no effort to shush you like he would if you were sneaking around, basking in your sighs and whines like water from a stream.

“missed this,” he says, licking a long, wet stripe from your sternum to your pulse. “missed you, missed having you every day.”

“you’ll have me forever,” you moan, sucking a purple bruise into the tattooed skin of his throat.

thick fingers thread into your hair to hold you to his neck, silently commanding you to bite down.

and so you do. you bite down hard on the junction of his neck and shoulder, licking over pink teeth marks as his thrusts reach their maximum speed.

the pleasure you feel is blinding. stars explode behind your vision while the curve of his cock hits that heavenly spot in you just right. over, and over, and over.

your climax sneaks up on you before you can think, ripping a wail from the depths of your chest. toji’s thrusts falter to a halt as you lock down on him, pleasantly caught off guard by the vice grip you have around him.

“oh my g— holy shit,” he groans, mouth hanging open. dark brows furrow it to a look of pure pleasure, emerald eyes squeezing tight.

“keep going,” you mumble, scratching rivets down the skin of his back. “just keep fucking me please don’t stop please pl—”

“yeah? keep going?” he teases, groping at the swell of your breast. “greedy huh?”

you did want more, that was the thing. you just came the hardest you ever had in years but you’d be damned if he didn’t keep giving it to you.

brutal thrusts shake the frame of the couch. your bodies meld like they were made for each other, sharing pleasure in the comfort that came with the knowledge that the both of you intended to fuck until you physically couldn’t anymore.

“gonna come,” your fiancé pants, mouthing at the curve of one of your breasts. blunt teeth brush over the bud of your nipple, sending shockwaves down your spine

“inside, fuck—please,” you’re practically shaking.

“inside?” he repeats, the word rolling off his tongue like gold. “you want my seed? huh?”

you nod, clutching to his naked back as he ruts into you, deeper than ever. strong hands grip the back of your thighs practically folding you in half, opening you up in ways you thought to be impossible.

hot release fills you up for the second time that day, shrouding your lower half in a blanket of warmth.

you sigh, low and satiated at the feeling inside of you, pulling toji to your chest when he collapses on top of you.

“we should probably..” toji trails off, completely out of breath. “should probably head upstairs.” he heaves, chest swelling with deep gulps of air.

“or we could go another round?” you mumble, throwing the question out there.

“shit, yeah.. probably should right?” he chuckles

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luveline · 11 months

Note

hiiii jade!!!! could i please request something with peter with reader who’s maybe put on some weight recently and is insecure about it?? (totally not self indulgent at all) i totally get it if you’re not comfortable writing that stuff though so no pressure

hi lovely! ty for requesting. fem, 1k

cw for negative weight talk/ weight gain

Everybody gains weight during the holidays, you think, tracing your figure in the mirror. Though it's not strictly holiday season yet, it's edging toward the end of the year. Maybe my new year's resolution should be losing a few pounds.

There's a thunk of the bedroom window being yanked open and footsteps across the floor. You tense until your hear Peter panting for breath, likely having swung to you at high speed, or fresh from a fight with an usurped criminal.

You rush back into your t-shirt, knowing exactly what path he'll walk. He barrels into the bathroom, sees you at the mirror and smiles so wide his cheeks look fit to burst. "Hey," he says, peeling the suit off and exposing his boxers to you without shame, "hey hey hey. Can I persuade you in with me?" He nods toward the shower.

"Not this time, Pete."

"Too bad," he laments.

You look away as he strips out of his underwear. The shower turns on and he takes you by the hips to move you out of his way with a murmured apology, near lost to the drum of the spray. Peter has moments where he doesn't know his own strength, but the majority of the time he treats you like you're something precious.

"Stay in here!" he demands as he pulls the curtain shut.

"I'm not going anywhere." You close the toilet and sit on the lid. "Tough day protecting the people?"

"Apart from tripping into a deceptively large pothole, it was fine. Why won't you come in here with me? I wanna rub your shoulders."

"You want me to wash your hair."

"Exactly. So get naked and get in here. Don't make me beg."

You really don't want to, and you're not going to, but it's not a big problem. Peter doesn't truly mind, he just loves you. "What do you mean, deceptively big? Like, knee height? Higher?"

"Mid thigh, I'd say. The people of New York are never gonna let me live it down. One guy was recording me and said he was gonna put it on YouTube for the ad money."

"Anything else?"

He gives you the rundown, describing what perps he faced and an older man he helped use an ATM machine. You hum distractedly, pinching at the fat where it spreads on your thigh, sitting down as you are.

He sticks his face through the curtain gap, hair slicked to his cheeks. "What're you doing?"

"You told me to stay, so I'm staying."

He's nervous for a split second, glancing back into the shower as though there's an answer there waiting for him before angling himself toward you fully, his naked chest dripping and shining in the bathroom light. "Okay, fine, we need to talk about something. But I want you to know that you forced my hand here. Okay?"

"Okay." You nibble the inside of your lip, used to his theatrics. "What have I done?"

"It's not something you've done. It's something you are. I can't even say it. I," —he pulls the curtain in front of his face, moves it aside again– "just need to tell you. Lately it's like you don't even realise how beautiful you are and I'm tired of it. You're radiant. Like, glowing."

Your recent internal debate must show on your face, that doubt, because he gives you a steadying smile. "Really, really beautiful," he says more seriously.

It's easy to smile at him. "Thank you, Pete." You scoop his suit off of the floor. "I'll go scrub the tetanus out of this in the kitchen sink."

"Wait–"

He can't just get out with suds in his hair, giving you the perfect escape plan. You have ten minutes to yourself filling the sink with soapy water and steeping the fabric before he's out of the bedroom in pyjamas, trousers tucked into his socks and hair damp from ferocious towel scrubbing. "You're such a– such a– thing," he decides. "I'm telling you you're beautiful and you walk off so you don't have to hear it? What's wrong with you?" His voice slips into a kinder register. "You do know you're pretty, right? I'm not just saying it to say it."

"I'm just feeling icky," you confide.

"About what?"

You want to tell him, you find. "You know how I've gained weight?"

He doesn't need any more explanation. Peter knows you've gained weight, you've mentioned it to him, and it's visual, and he can likely tell whenever he decides to flex his strength. "What, and you think that makes you less pretty?" He puts a damp hand behind your neck to bring you forward. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, a little."

He kisses you. His nose bumps your nose, his lips crushed to your as he holds you in place. Despite this, it isn't an overly rough connection. It's definitely not shy. "You're beautiful," he says in the space between your lips.

"It doesn't suit me–"

"It does. It really fucking suits you. Have you seen yourself? You couldn't look better."

"Even when I was thinner?"

"You look just as perfect then as you did now." His intensity fades and he encourages you back enough to see your face, his thumb rubbing a short line into your neck. His brows are furrowed, dark eyes darker for it. "Weight isn't a factor."

"No, but you have to say that."

"I don't. Not really. I'm sure there are a thousand shitty guys who'd tell you something different, but I'm not– I love you, the whole you. I like you like this." He grins. "Which should be obvious."

You tsk at him, to his delight, his laughter boyish as he buries his face in your neck with a hug, kissing a messy circle up and into the soft line of your jaw. You trap him there without thinking, chin hooked down, squirming as he blows hot air into your skin.

"I've been putting it on too," he says. "It's happy weight."

"It's not happy weight for you, Pete, it's just more muscle."

"It makes you happy, doesn't it?" he jokes, smiling and kissing and hugging you all at once. "Just like it does on you for me."

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adayumantium · 1 month

Text

Should I Stay Or Should I Go?

Logan Howlett x fem! Reader smut

a/n: insp by the song by The Clash & graphic by @moosgraphics :)

Summary: Logan Howlett's annoying ass consumes your waking days. You're friends, you're not, you're arguing, you're not...whats the deal? How can such a pain in your ass make you feel so much better?

W/C: 1.6k+ my bad

tags/warnings: ENEMIES TO LOVERS YAHHHHHHHH, implied age gap (but like bc he’s 200,,,), terms of endearment (doll, princess, kid, baby), friendly combat, cursing, MDNI 18+ IM SO SERIOUS, kitchen hate sex WOOOO, vaginal fingering, unprotected piv (WRAP IT GUYS)

Your foot connects with Logan’s chest, pushing him back with a swift kick. He grunts, heels dragging as he struggles to regain his footing. Sweat rolls off his temple, making its way down his neck.

“Can’t keep up, old man?” you smirk, returning to a guarding stance. There were few things as exhilarating as a good sparring match, especially with Logan. You liked the physical challenge of someone bigger and more experienced than you. Not to mention the banter. You would never admit it, but even the most bitter of his words shot electricity between your thighs.

“Is that mouth capable of anything that doesn’t give me a headache?” he huffs, lurching forward and throwing his own punches.

“Oh, sweetheart, you wish,” you beckon him with a motion of your fingers.

Maybe too cocky, you dodge once, twice, before Logan lands a blow that knocks you to the ground.

“Shit,” you groan, laying your head back on the cool training mat.

“Had enough, princess?” Logan straddles your hips, towering over you. God, something about him. You consider your options. Against anyone else, a buck of the hips might send them flying, but Logan was maybe 400 pounds of metal and muscle. You were exhausted, sore, and just a bit distracted by the way Logan’s perspiration made his white tank cling to his sculpted muscles. You sighed, tapping the floor twice.

“Whatever,” you huffed, and Logan grinned before getting back to his feet. He held a hand out to help you up, and as your fingers graced his much larger ones, you felt the contact shiver up your arm. You swallowed silently, trying to ignore the tension in your neck and shoulders.

“Y’know, you’re gettin’ better out there, doll. Maybe one day, you’ll be able to handle me,” Logan nodded.

“Shut up,” you scowl.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, kid. It was a compliment,” Logan rolls his eyes, leaving before you could conjure up a decent comeback. Ugh. As you make your way back to your own room, you can’t shake the interaction. Really, every interaction you’ve ever had with him. It was always teasing, always belittling one another, but you craved every inkling of it. You hated to admit it, but the idea of beating Logan made you want to be better and train harder. You loved having him on his knees, at your mercy.

Stepping into the shower, you work to scrub the feeling of him off your skin. The feeling of him towering over you on the mat and the way it made your throat feel tight. The smell of tobacco and leather so far up your nose you can taste it.

How could something so frustrating feel so good?

Crawling into bed that night was no better. You stare at the ceiling for hours, restless as you replay your conversations with Logan in your mind. He was so infuriating, the way he pins your wrists during drills or threatens to wipe a sly smile off your face. Why are you so desperate to have him be present in your everyday life? Maybe, after all this time, you just have to get it out in the open. It’s late, though; no one can think clearly at this time of night. You eventually drift to sleep, and your subconscious betrays you with dreams of the Wolverine.

An early morning jog is always exactly what you need. The rising sun and singing birds are waking up, and it reminds you how nice life in the mansion actually is. Peace and quiet is a virtue in a life as chaotic as yours. Sometimes, life happens too quickly. Short of breath, you fumble back inside, gracious for cool air and endorphins keeping you upright.

Your stomach growling grounds you. You stand on your toes, pulling cereal down from the cabinets. Opening the fridge, you frown. Who drank the last of the milk? You sigh, a creek in the floor putting your senses on edge. Asked and answered. You whip around to see Logan leaning against the counter nursing his own bowl of cereal.

“Take a picture, huh? It’ll last longer,” he mutters, bringing the bowl to his mouth and taking an obnoxious slurp.

“Of course you took the last of it, kitty,” you cooed, knowing his disdain for it.

“Watch your mouth, doll,” Logan grunts, going to rinse his bowl without further acknowledging your physical proximity.

“Or what?” you challenge, eyes squinting. The calm you felt melts away, replaced by that irritating itch Logan always spiked in your body. Your chest rose with rage, though you were mindful of your sleeping housemates at the early hour. In the loudest whisper you can muster, you let Logan have a piece of your mind.

“Seriously, what’s your problem, Logan? All you ever do is antagonize me, and I’m sick of it!” you clench your fists, meeting the man’s eyes.

“You're playing a dangerous game, darlin',” he turns off the water, placing the bowl in the drying rack. You were fairly certain he was only doing this to piss you off and ignore you further; you’d never seen him do a dish. “Now, shut your mouth,” he growls. Your heart pounds so loudly, you could hear it in your ears.

“Make me,” the whisper escapes your lips before you could think anything of it, and the world stops turning.

Logan whips around, using his hips to pin yours to the counter as he greedily presses his lips to yours. Despite your surprise, you couldn’t help but find your hands tangling themselves around Logan’s neck, pulling him closer eagerly. In the chaos and hunger, you bite his lip, briefly making him bleed before it heals itself. Logan slips his tongue into your mouth, making you dizzy as he flicks it over yours. Fuck. You can taste his breakfast, the cereal you never got, and something about it makes you crazier. You run your fingers through his hair, engulfing every inch of him he lets you have.

“Mmm, oh,” you whisper.

“Antagonizing you.” he mocks you in a whisper, sucking on your neck. “Do you have any idea how batshit crazy you drive me?” Logan scoffs. “Always runnin’ that pretty mouth, always flaunting that perfect body,” he huffs, slipping his hands around your ass and down your thighs as he lifts you onto the countertop with ease. “Probably just to get my attention, too,” Logan shakes his head, playing with the waistband of your shorts. The heat starts to gather in your belly as his fingers brush against your stomach. You tilt your head back, giving him more space for his tongue to explore your neck as he dips his hand into your panties.

“W-why would I want your attention?” you roll your eyes; in pleasure or annoyance, neither of you can tell as he makes his way to your pussy.

“Shut up, y/n,” Logan kisses you again, sucking on your bottom lip as his fingers work your clit. You whimper, legs spreading to meet him. “Oh, there you are. Gooooood girl,” he nods. “Finally, ya listen,” he purrs. “See what listenin’ gets you?” he mumbles into your lips, and you can’t help but whimper at his touch. If your fighting was passionate, this was intoxicating.

“You want me to fill you, princess?” Logan asked, fingers playing with you. “You’re soaked for me,” he chuckled. You nod slowly.

“What, shy all of a sudden?” he bites his lip with a chuckle, slipping two fingers into your entrance. “Where’s all that bark, baby? I know you’ve got quite a bite on you, too,” he nods, pumping his fingers into you as he runs a thumb along your clit.

“Lo- fuck,” you hiss, adjusting to the size of his hands inside you. The way he felt made your face flush and your breath hitch, and fuck, fuck, fuck, you wanted more.

“Just like that, I’ve gotcha,” Logan leans forward, letting you wrap your legs around his back. “You got it,” he comforts. “Cum for me, darlin’?” he insists as you jut your hips forward onto him. Chasing the high, you start to feel the knot come undone, and your breath becomes frantic. Logan holds you, no signs of slowing as you whimper on his fingers.

Unadulterated pleasure ripples through you, and only then does Logan remove himself from you. As if he couldn’t get any hotter, you watch, drunk with pleasure, as he sucks your juices off of his fingers.

You take the opportunity to fumble with his belt, eager to know the rest of him. “Christ,” he mutters, working to help you free his aching cock from his jeans.

Logan’s erection springs free, obviously just as eager to know you. Touching his forehead to yours, Logan pulls your hips closer, teasing your entrance. Fuck, he was big.

“Please,” you begged, and sure as hell he was going to give it to you. Logan buried himself into you, covering your mouth as you gasped.

“What did I say about shutting up, doll,” he tsked, pulling you down onto his hips again and again. “Geez, you’re so fuckin’ tight,” Logan whispered, thrusts becoming frantic. For the player he was known to be, Logan was awfully smitten with you. “Doll, I- fuck,” he moaned softly, pounding your pussy. “I’m gonna-”

“Cum in me,” you nod eagerly, wanting to feel his warmth.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, y/n, fuck-” Logan grunted, face dissolving into pleasure as he filled you. Relief coursed through both of you, panting, unable to look one another in the face as the world continued on its axis. “Didn’t think you had it in you, princess,” Logan mumbled, burying his head into your shoulder. “...You don’t think we could do that again sometime, do ya?”

You smiled. “I told you I could handle you,” you whispered, kissing the top of his head

#logan howlett xmen #logan 2017 #logan howlett x reader #logan xmen #logan howlett x you #logan howlett #xmen origins #x men #x men movies #the wolverine 2013 #wolverine x you #wolverine x reader #deadpool and wolverine #the wolverine #wolverine #hugh jackman #zoe writes #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x reader smut

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lokis-army-77 · 1 year

Text

A Text Away

Modern!Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word Count: 1.7k

You've been horny all day and Eddie is at band practice... but you know a way to get him home.

Warning: 18 +. face sitting/riding, breeding kink, multiple orgasms, p in v, unprotected sex.

And thank you to @strangerxperv for the absolutly fabulous idea 💗

Masterlist

After a long day at work, there were two things you wanted. One, a nice hot shower, and two, your boyfriend to fuck you into next week.

It wasn’t Eddie’s fault that watching him get dressed to go work at the local record store made you horny. He couldn’t help the fact that every time you saw the little trail of hair dipping past the waist of his pants, your legs clenched, and your body grew warmer.

You dealt with your racing thoughts all through your own shift at the bookshop, imagining your return home and how good he would feel against you.

Only, he wasn’t home when you unlocked your apartment door.

Sighing in disappointment you trudge to the bathroom to start warming the water. As you wait, you text Eddie.

Where are you? I need you.. like really bad.

Your phone dings a few minutes later while you are in the middle of scrubbing shampoo in your hair.

Wiping your hand off on the towel, you reach for your phone, lying on the small shelf above the towel rack.

Eddie had responded.

In a bit baby. I'm at practice.

You pout as you read the text only to smile mischievously. You message him as fast as you can with one dry hand.

But Eddie.. if you come home I'll sit on your face. And I mean really sit on your face.

There is no ding of a notification once you set your phone back down and continue your shower routine.

Twenty minutes later, you've given up on Eddie answering you, have put on your comfiest pajamas, and are now snuggled up in bed.

You're startled when the front door slams open and you hear thick boots pacing in your direction.

"Take your fucking pants off right now," Eddie commands as he bursts into your shared bedroom.

You're sat up, back against the headboard, staring at him, bewildered as he practically flops backward onto the bed.

When he hadn’t texted you back you assumed he just wasn't interested at the moment, you never could have imagined this.

You start to giggle when he starts making grabby hands at you. "Pussy on my mouth, now."

When the words leave his mouth, you practically choke on a laugh.

"Babe, quit laughing and get up here. Set on my fucking face like you promised." He grumps.

You have no choice but to obey as you say, "Okay okay, patient much?"

It's only fair that you tease him a little. So you slowly emerge from under the covers, fingers delicately pulling at the waist of your pajama pants.

Eddie watches with a hunger in his dark brown eyes. His tongue flicks out to wet his lips when you begin to tug your pants down. Slowly but surely you are exposed to him and he almost dies when he realizes you weren't wearing panties.

Before you can even get to your knees, Eddie is gripping your ankle and pulling your body down the bed to him with a strength acquired from years of hauling heavy amps and other musical equipment from place to place.

"Eddie!" You squeal, more laughter leaving you when your head falls, bouncing on the mattress.

"You're going too slow, baby." He cries, letting his hold up but hands never leaving you.

You shake your head, a knowing smirk playing on your lips. Finally, you get to your knees and straddle him. He is impatiently pulling you up his body, only stopping when you are hovering over his face.

Your eyes meet his as you stare down between your legs. He'd got a big, goofy grin plastered on his face.

"Fuck." He sighs. "I've died and gone to heaven." His large hands wrap around your legs and right before he pulls you flush to his mouth he says, "Don't hold back."

When his hot mouth makes contact with your waiting pussy, you gasp. The need you had been feeling all day long now has an outlet.

Eddie's tongue swipes through your folds, lapping up the arousal that had already started to seep from your cunt. His nose rubs against your clit, pulling a strangled moan from you.

A hand shoots down to tangle in his hair when his tongue plays at the rim of your cunt, flicking ever so slightly in and out of you.

He's like a man starved as he devours all that is given to him. You feel his fingers moving up to your hips. There's a slight pressure as he pushes you and in a flush of worry, you pull off of him.

The desperate whine that falls past his already swollen lips makes your heart flutter.

"Why'd you move away?"

"You were pushing me.. are you okay? I thought you couldn't breathe." I exasperate.

"No, I was trying to get you to ride me. Hump my face sweetheart." He doesn't say another word, he just grips onto you once more and pulls you down.

You understand what he wants now, so you lean back, hands resting on the tops of his things behind you, and you canter your hips. Slow and steady you used him for your own pleasure.

"Eddie-" you sigh breathlessly, head falling back between your shoulders.

He hums in response. The vibrations travel up through your core and into your body. Shivers accompany them as you feel a knot forming in your stomach.

"Eddie please-" Your knees and arms are burning as you continue to grind yourself against him. "I'm gonna- shit I'm gonna cum."

Your lungs are struggling to fill with air as you get closer and closer to release. Eddie's hands are wrapped over your thighs, fingers searching for your clit.

When he finds it, you double over. The knot pulls tighter and you feel a sheen of sweat cover your body.

Quickly, your first orgasm comes to light. There's a blazing fire erupting within you and it takes all you have not to fall flat on your face. Long, drawn-out moans flow from you and Eddie does not stop. His tongue pushed into you, tasting your release.

His fingers now grip the fat of your ass harshly. He keeps you on top of him and he moves his face from side to side as best he can with you practically smothering him with your pussy.

This time he does actually push you up off him. He takes a deep breath and groans. "Fuck baby, taste so good." He turns his head, kissing the inside of your thigh and then he bites you. His teeth sink into the soft skin in the crease where your inner thigh meets with your body.

In a series of fluid movements, Eddie has you on your back in an instant. He unzips his pants and pulls himself out of them, tugging on his hardness before getting into position. Your legs are being pushed back by his hands holding you at the bend of the knee.

"You're so pretty like this… pussy all wet and needy for me." His voice is muffled by the loud beating of your heart in your ears. "Mmm gonna fuck you full."

You whimper as you feel his hard length run through your glistening folds, his hips jutting against the backs of your thighs.

"Yeah, you like that? Want me to fill you with my cum?"

You nod, crying out when his cock finally pressed through the tight threshold of your cunt. "Need it, please, I need it."

"Just my little cum baby aren't you?" He asks, fully sheathing himself in you.

Your back arches off the bed and you groan. Fingernails scratching at Eddie’s forearms.

He pulls back and slams into you. "Aren't you?"

"Yes!" You cry out. His cock reaches into the very depths of you, the tip hitting in just the right place to make you scream. "Yes! I am, I am, Eddie!"

"Mmm, good. Gonna give it all to you, sweetheart. Gonna breed this pretty fuckin' pussy." His fingers adjust themselves as his grip slips and then he's pounding into you at such a brutal pace. Back and forth, in and out, he is fucking you raw.

Your walls clamp around him, the drag of his cock stimulates you more and you clench harder.

Skin on skin, the noises that they make are obscene. The squelch of him entering you has your face burning, not in embarrassment but desire. His gruff growls and fucked out moans accompany those other sounds and all they do is make you even more horny.

Eddie fucks into you with reckless abandon, mind full of images of your belling swollen with his child. How much he would love for you to sit on his face like that, all pretty and pregnant.

Your toes curl when Eddie flips your t-shirt up to expose your breasts. A strong, calloused hand reaching out for the mound of flesh. He kneads it and pulls on your nipple before swiping a gentle thumb over the hardened bud.

The way he fucks you is savage. Hips snapping at a speed you couldn't imagine, his fingers squeeze your skin so hard you are sure you will have brushes in the shape of his hands all over you.

The knot pulls tighter once more and your body begins to lock up in anticipation. Your eyes flutter before rolling to the back of your head. Your hands reach for his, interlocking your fingers, hoping he will keep you down on Earth.

As your orgasm hits once more, you wail. A long, monotone cry bursts from your lungs, whole unattractive but who cares when you feel so so so good?

"That's it. That's fucking it." Eddie gasps. Your cunt is practical milking him. He's trying to hold off but it's all just too much. A shiver runs up his spine and his balls pull taut. He's lost his rhythm, hips now bucking unevenly and with desperation.

All it takes is another whimper from you and he's a gunner. With one last hard thrust, he keeps himself buried to the hilt. Your walls are spasming around him, your release gushing out along with his own sticky, milky white cum.

"Yes, fuck yes. That's it, baby, take all my fucking cum."

He falls forward, letting go of your knees. His forehead rests in the crook of your neck and his lips press softly into your skin. He kisses you, a needed juxtaposition from mere seconds ago.

His breath is warm on your salt-slicked skin as he speaks again. "Such a good little cum baby, taking all that. S'what you wanted, hum?"

You close your eyes, tired. "Yeah," you whisper. "Just what I wanted."

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #female reader

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artinvain · 4 months

Note

Toxic bff Abby that denies she is in love with you but is extremely possessive over you and basically treats you like her gf, but still fucks other girls imagining you; getting jealous seeing ANYONE else come near you. NEED IT PLS

toxic!bff!abby x reader

Abby’s so insecure and she lets it rule everything she does. she can't seem to get it right -- more plot and angst than i intended. lesbian smut under the cut - men and minors dni

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it happens every time. abby gets drunk when you have a fight and does something stupid to forget about you. she could see you dancing up against her from the rival basketball team. and although abby would usually rip you from their arms and dance with you herself — feel your ass grind up against her crotch, let you control where her hands went as you dance — she can’t do that tonight.

abby had seen you at the bar for the pre-party, the girl you’re with buying you drinks, resting her hand on your thigh, inching ever so close to your face and leaning in for a kiss, and abby seethed with every brush of your lips. finally seeing red when you get down from your bar stool to stand between her legs.

abby could see the girl you were with now and it coloured her vision crimson. ellie fucking williams. of all people you could flirt with. abby had to think you were being vindictive — trying to get back at her for when she ditched you to get with tammy instead of take you to an art gallery like she’d promised for weeks.

It wasn’t completely her fault although abby could come up with a million excuses to absolve herself but the prevailing one would always be that she was a fucking coward. it felt too much like a date. a real date that she wants to take you on — not as her friend. but abby couldn't stand the thought of you rejecting her.

she could see it so vividly in her head -- you turning away from her, your face contorted in distaste "but abby, we're just friends." you would say "i could never see you like that." and abby would understand. because you were too good for her -- too smart, funny, kind, you gave her too many chances because your heart is so big. abby didn't deserve someone who could colour the world and scrub out the black and white monotony of every day life.

abby didn't realise she was gripping your arm so tight it could be bruising, she'd been glowering down at ellie, seething and her mouth practically foamed with her hard ragged breaths. "the fuck is wrong with you anderson?" ellie snarls, abby twists her mouth and "you, are all over my best friend,"

"and you're best friend -- who is right here -- is fine with it," you snatch your arm from abby's grip. you couldn't even fight her at this point. she was colder to you recently, she sold you excuses for her distance, came to your apartment still dewy and smelling like someone else. she'd been rubbing it in your face that she wanted nothing to do with you. you ignored that she didn't reply when you'd casually told her you loved her after she dropped you off at home last week. but you couldn't keep walking into apartment as other women walked out past you, a drunken smile plastered on their faces. she did this every few weeks and you were sick of it, but this time was worse than usual.

"go hang out with tammy or whoever," you back into ellie rubbing your arm and abby swallowed, her eyes catching yours -- hollow as they'd never been when looking at her. but just last week you had told her you loved her. could that change so quickly? had she gone too far? abby's fists clenched, bouncing on her weak knees.

"I- we need to talk," abby says without thinking and she immediately wanted to punch herself.

'talk about what?' abby thought to herself, she could never tell you that she loved you back, that more than that she worshipped you. she could neve tell you that every time she looked at you -- she fought not to let her face heat up. abby couldn't tell you that her chest puffed up with pride that she could call you -- something so precious hers. her best friend. you are the only person she ever wanted to be around really.

"I'm leaving," you say with a deep breath as ellie puts a few paper bills on the bar counter, one in the tip jar and slides her hand onto the small of your back. "get yourself together. i'll see you later maybe."

now abby had to watch you dance with ellie, smiling with your arms draped over should shoulders while ellie whispered in your ear. she downed her shot and then decided not to beat ellie up because she didn't want to be benched the entire season. so, instead she put her jacket on and approached you with her head hanging low.

your movements halt as abby stands near the both of you, "can we talk?" abby asks, her watery blue eyes slowly rising to meet yours. you sigh and turn to kiss ellie's cheek goodnight before leading abby out of the house and down the street.

"I'm really sorry," abby says as you walk slow into the crisp autumn evening.

"for what abby?"

"everything," she shrugs and tries a chuckle but coughs awkwardly when you glare at her. "so, you don't have anyone to take home tonight?" you question and abby sighs, running her hands over her face. "come on, don't be like that," abby says and stops in front of her truck opening the passenger door for you.

"I'm not getting in unless you tell me what you're sorry for."

abby groans, clenching her jaw and resting her hands against her bumper, leaning on it and ducking her head.

"I'm sorry I've been such a sloppy asshole this week. I'm sorry i tried to make you jealous and I'm sorry that I didn't reply when you said it. because I should have."

you know what abby is talking about but god, she can't even say it. it fucking wrecks you because she doesn't value you enough to even tell you what you mean to her, if you mean anything at all. you start to walk past her, "hey wait, oh my god -- I love you!"

abby yells, her mouth parts but no other words come to her. she swallows thickly when you turn around, the tears on your face matching hers.

"I'm sorry I'm a fucking idiot and I didn't tell you sooner but i don't love you like a friend. I am in love with you, okay? and - and I'm a shitty person and I don't wanna mess us up,"

abby can't stand your silence but when she looks up, there you are. standing so close to her she can feel your warm breath on her cheeks.

"do you promise to at least give us a chance?"

abby, cups the back of your neck and presses a soft kiss to your mouth as her answer, pulls your body flush to her so she can lean over you and lick into your mouth. moan as you suck on her tongue.

"m'sorry, so sorry sweetheart," abby whispers in between kisses as she feels your tears on her cheeks, "let me make it up to you."

abby drives you not far down the road to her place, her hand on your all the time, pressing kisses to your knuckles until she shuts the door behind you and kisses you again, this time her hands going down to your ass, gripping and squeezing, her mouth beginning to pepper kisses up and down your neck.

you whine when abby backs you into the hallway of her loft, behind the kitchen wall ands falls on top of you on her bed. "i swear to god, everything will be different," abby moans, as you grip her hand and bring it to your breast, where she takes the liberty to start pressing kisses to your chest, removing your clothes feverishly. you whine as she pulls away from you, catching her breath.

"do you not?" you ask shakily and abby cups your cheek.

"i do, i do. i just wanted it to be different. I didn't want to be fighting with you." abby whimpers when you grip her and pull her close so she's laying on top of you. "then, show me it'll be different."

abby takes her time lathering you chest when she removes your bra, kissing your tits and moaning as she sucks your nipples into her mouth, her hips starting to falter against you thigh. no matter how many women she'd been with. she never could get off. she didn't feel much of anything unless she thought of you, played your three words over and over again in her mind. but now, now she had the real thing and she's too desperate stop herself.

she flicks her fingers over your wet nipples, "so fucking pretty," she whines against you, massaging your tits and sucking marks between your chest as she pulls them close to her chest, moaning and grinding down on your hips going again to suck and swap nipples to wet and play with while your hips started to buck against hers.

"shit fuck, m'gonna cum, fuck i'm so sorry," she's utterly embarrassed, hides her face in your neck and she whines loudly, her fingers still playing with your nipples as she cums. you gasp and chuckle, unbelievably wetter at watching her cum just from sucking on your tits.

"i'm so fucking sorry-" "for what? for feeling good?" you mumble and press a kiss to her mouth, guiding her hand between the two of you so she can feel how wet she's making you, "always been a mess f'me," she groans, her fingers starting to circle your clit, hearing you moan she ducks her head into your neck again to kiss and mark you.

"i love you," abby moans as her fingers dig into your panties and start to slide into you, your gummy, wet walls inviting her in. "christ, you're so wet," she moans and she kisses down your torso and removes your shorts and panties, her mouth latching to your clit and she starts moaning, licking and twist her head so she's making circles on your clit while her fingers curl and fuck into you.

"fuck, abby! yes, yes please more," you yelp, your legs falling open and abby pulls them over her shoulders licking the wetness around her fingers in your cunt and groaning as she does so at your taste, another finger twisting into your sweet pussy she can't help but grin against you, licking and lapping at your clit, as you cum, her thumb coming to circle it instead.

"you look so pretty all fucked out f'me," she moans, pressing a hand down on your belly and fucking her fingers deeper, moaning at the way your mouth falls open, and your legs start to shake, "i love you, i fucking love you baby," she whines and you're spurting against her hand, licking up over your clit and sucking it, your taste filling her mouth.

"swear i'm gonna be better, i promise," abby says as she gently caresses you, cupping your cheek and rubbing her hands over your body. abby silently presses a sticky kiss to your temple and disappears as you catch your breath.

"haven't used it with anyone else," abby assures you when you look at her strap on quizzical and yet biting your lip as she clambers over you. "you're everything to me, i'm so sorry for everything," abby says as she lines herself up with you, her strap already covered in lube. you nod when abby hovers over you and she sighs when she finally sinks into you, your eyes crossing at the way it curls perfectly into your gspot, the ridged cock stimulating every part of your pussy.

"was saving this for you- fuck," she whimpers as the strap starts to vibrate against her and you whine loudly as it tremors inside you. "wanted to feel this good with you and you only" she moans gasping into your mouth as you press her close when abby starts to fucking into you.

you're both so overstimulated it doesn't take much of her deep, wet thrusts until you're crying against her shoulder, biting into it as you both cum again. you push abby out at the pain of the overstimulation and she rips the strap off of her in the same manner, turning it off.

after abby rocks you both to sleep, she's woken by her phone ringing, at reading the caller ID she moves into her bathroom, pressing a kiss to your shoulder and whispering into the phone.

"i fucking told you not to call," abby whispers, turning over to look at your sleeping form under her sheets.

"no, tammy -- enough. I'm done fucking around," she groans and near hangs up until tammy whispers something over the line, something you can't quite make out, all you can hear is.

"jesus christ, okay, I'll be over soon."

"where are you going?" you ask as abby gets dressed, "tammy-" "are you fucking serious?" you chuckle in disbelief pulling your clothes on in a hurry.

"no, you don't understand -- wait!" abby calls as you pick your jacket up from off the floor and shuffle your shoes on.

"I'm done waiting for you abby. you couldn't even last a day."

"please, stay -- i just, you don't understand," abby pleads, holding onto your forearm.

"then explain,"

abby fumbles for something, anything. you weren't supposed to hear anything, you were supposed to stay asleep. abby just needed to be gone a few hours, she just needed to take care of things with tammy one last time and then she was yours. she just wanted to make sure.

"so, you're not sure you love me?" you roll your eyes as abby rubs her face in her hands.

"if i stay, abby, what does that say about me?" you sniffle and snatch your arm from her grip for the last time today.

"i hope you get what you're looking for anderson," you nod and pull your phone out of your pocket, texting ellie to pick you up if she was still awake.

ellie: be there in 2 mins.

"see you around," you purse your lips and close the door behind you, your ears rushing with blood so loudly you can't hear abby breaking into sobs behind the door.

tags: @lesbian-useless @sexysapphicshopowner @iamaboringrattat @sapphicsgirl @bimboprincezz

#lesbian #lesbian smut #abby tlou smut #abby tlou #abby anderson smut #nsft lesbian #abby tlou x reader smut #tlou smut #tlou x reader smut #abby anderson x reader smut

989 notes · View notes

goodeapple · 2 months

Text

words on the page (aemond t. sex pollen pwp o.s.)

pairing : Aemond x Ysilla (Rhaenyra'sDaughter!OC)

warnings : PWP, dubcon- this is sex pollen (obvi) they are technically not fully consenting. might be hatesex but it also might not, uncle/niece incest, a ridiculous amount of orgasms, squirting, restraint, spanking & slapping, and a slighttt breeding kink (srry i couldn't help myself)

word count : 10,000+

note : hope everyone enjoys. ty for all the love, always. likes, reblogs, comments, anything is gas in my tank xx

“This library is big enough for the both of us, Uncle. You stay on your side, and I, on mine.” Ysilla offers, already working on tuning out the One-Eyed Prince’s mutterings as she gets lost in the sprawling shelves.

“What if I want a book that’s on your side?” Aemond’s voice echoes up to the grand ceilings from where he must be several rows over, his annoyance clearer than the windows in the Sept.

Ysilla rolls her eyes so hard she fears they might stick. “Do you not understand the concept of my side and your side?”

“These are all my sides. I grew up in between these stacks- I’m sure the texts at Dragonstone are missing you terribly. Why don't you go back and see if I’m right.”

That retort stabs at her, the mourning for her home still living on in the thick ball of grief that resides heavily in her heart. It’s been a year since her mother took her rightful place on the Iron Throne, a year since the King had passed, and a year where all members of the Targaryen family had to learn how to live amongst one another once more. Nobody was enjoying it. And there were more days than not that the Princess fantasized of stealing borrowing a boat and sailing back to her beloved pile of rocks.

“Shouldn’t you be out, oh, I don’t know, swinging a sword or ducking under one? You know, what men do.” It’s childish but Ysilla doesn’t mind stooping lower than her years. Her brothers keep her young and nimble, each one bringing with him a fresh battle of wits and stubbornness.

He goes silent, blessedly, and she resumes her stroll, picking and plucking titles off the shelves that join the burgeoning pile cradled tight in her arms. Her mind wanders, the endless catalogues of writings whispering their words, lulling her further and further into the scriptural maze.

Ysilla spots a peculiar text on a shelf taller than her, the aphotic ruby binding and woven gold stitching calling her name. She reaches up, tiptoeing until her feet creak and attempts to hook her finger under the edge of the spine. The old book sticks in place, judging her with a faceless scowl. She grunts, wobbling slightly, pushing forward again and gives it a good strong tug. Too strong, as it flies freely through the air and Ysilla yelps, jumping to the side to dodge it. Everything goes topsy turvy, her balance lost to her and the rest of her assembled collection clatters to the ground.

She curses, deaf to the sound of approaching footsteps as she drops to her knees and starts to gather the fallen books. She’s considerate of the older ones, stacking them carefully off to the side of the walkway. The causer of the chaos had landed face down, the text split open as if the ground itself was interested in its contents. Ysilla grasps it gently and turns it over, causing a plume of dust to shift off the pages and billow directly into her face.

She coughs, sputtering for a breath that isn’t made up of ancient soot. She scrubs at her nose, sniffling and groaning in discomfort as her sinuses burn and her throat grows parched. Her eyelids wrench shut, tears already hot and clumping in her lashes.

A vice grip in the form of strong fingers finds her arm, and she latches onto them desperately. She’s pulled to her feet, and a downy cloth is pressed tightly into her hand. She pats her face with it, drying her tears and spittle, its perfume of oranges and smoke chasing away the moldered stink clinging to every sense she has.

“You alright?” Aemond asks cautiously, still holding her elbow steady. Ysilla blinks blearily at him, her nose red at the tip. She nods after a pause, coughing softly into his handkerchief.

“Couldn’t breathe there for a moment.” She croaks, chuckling weakly before she gently pulls her elbow away. Aemond drops his hold, clasping his arms behind him and taking a step backwards.

“The library is all yours- I’m going to go lie down.”

She offers his hanky back, feeling a bit dumb as she does and more than a little embarrassed. Her uncle waves her off, and she skirts around him, careful not to intrude into his space.

“Niece,” Ysilla turns. Concern is not a look she’s accustomed to seeing on his face, and certainly not when it’s directed at her, but the sight of it sends little tingles through her tummy. “Do you need me to escort you to your room?”

She smiles dimly, self-conscious in all the ways that turn her cheeks peachy.

“I think I can manage… thank you, Aemond.” Ysilla curtsies in a silly show of thanks, but he can tell her sentiment is genuine.

Aemond swallows thickly, bowing his head in acknowledgment, watching her keenly as she shuffles out the doors that lead to the rest of the castle. She never calls him by his name. Always Uncle, and even sometimes My Prince, but the mocking lilt of that one is not lost on him. Aemond though… it’s like he’s hearing a brand new word.

Shrugging off his worriment, he sighs, squatting down to collect the strewn about books. He inspects them as he does, less so judging and more so learning about his niece’s interests through her chosen reading materials. There’s a collection of songs- one for Drowned Men and one for Northmen that he’s read before. Another about the Lion King, Tommen II Lannister and his adventures in Volantis and, most provocatively, the remaining charred pages of Dragons, Wyrms, and Wyverns: Their Unnatural History. Aemond holds onto it for longer than the others; she must’ve searched long and hard for it, he’s never even once stumbled across it in here. He tucks it carefully onto a shelf he’ll remember, and thinks of letting Ysilla know where she can find it later.

Lastly, he comes to the one that sent her into a coughing fit and he regards it carefully. It isn’t smart, but even so, Aemond draws his dagger and nudges at it, angling up the flap so that he can read the title: Potions of Old Valyria. He lifts it too high, trying to see better in the dreary light of dusk and loses his leverage, the cover falling closed and puffing out a small cloud of dust in his direction. He snaps backwards but he’s not fast enough, the grit already coating the slick press of his lips. Aemond spits, growling, scrubbing at his mouth with the back of his hand. He winces as his nose stings, the watering in his eye blurring his vision.

He shoots to his feet, gathering up the massive stack of books and tossing them onto an empty writing desk, kicking away the potion book in juvenile anger. He stalks out of the library, cursing blindly as he retreats to his room.

The Prince does not read the page of which the dust had danced off of. But if he had, mayhaps he would have rethought the course of his actions that night.

“Pollen of the flower Turnera diffusa- a specimen of which is contained in this very page- has a curious effect on the indulger. Found growing along the creeks of Honeyholt, symptoms noted are as follows: fever, delirium, lightheadedness, and most notably, a heightened state of arousal. The affected should take caution to whom they keep in their company while under the spell of this love plant.”

Aemond shucks off his jerkin, sending it flying across the room carelessly.

It's still there- the rabid itch under his collar. He stalks to his mirror, tearing up his shirt to check his skin, looking for a bite, a scratch, anything to explain the scorching sting engulfing him in full. Nothing, not even a blemish, mars his pale chest.

He curses, spinning on his heel and going for his table, seizing the wine pitcher so roughly the lit candles nearby shudder from his haste. He pours a full goblet, the deep burgundy trickle causing his mouth to flood with anticipation. He downs it in several gulps, gasping as he rips the cup away and lets it teeter on the table until it spins out, toppling over emptily. He might as well’ve drank from the Great Sand Sea, his tongue heavy in his mouth. He clutches at his stomach, a sharp shooting pain ripping up his insides. He groans, taking a knee as his legs wobble beneath his weight.

Fuck, he wonders if it was the book, the dust he breathed in. If Ysilla is as bad off as he is.

Ysilla. Worry spears through him, bringing with it a healthy dose of clarity. She breathed in more than he did, he’s sure of it. He needs to get her to a maester, lest she’s already staggered out of her own room in search of aid.

He stumbles to his wall, finding the familiar crease in the stone and pushing. The path into the tunnels is one he knows well and he’s lucky he does, his mind fogging over and his pulse thumping in his temples. He’s never entered her chamber this way of course, so he can’t be sure when he comes to an unknown stone archway that he’s where he needs to be.

He pushes until he feels the door give way, a slice of light pouring out through the crack. He edges it forward a little more, until he can see enough of the room to confirm it’s not a servant’s quarters.

“Niece?” Aemond coughs, his tone gruffer than what he’s used to. His throat is arid, greedy for a nectar to soothe it. No one answers, but as he strains his hearing, shuffling feet and rustling bottles comes forth, confirming that someone is inside.

“Ysilla?” He calls out. Another jolt of agony flares through him and he gasps, startling forward, catching himself on the door and accidentally making it swing open. Aemond stumbles through, colliding with an overstuffed armchair and making it screech terribly across the floor. His head shoots up, and he catches sight of his niece across the room.

Ysilla wouldn’tve noticed if Vhagar herself trampled through the door.

She’s… much more undone than she was before. Her curly raven locks, once pinned up and out of her face, spring madly from her head, cloaking her face in a dark flowing curtain. She scurries around the room, mouselike, pressing a wet rag to her throat and then to her forehead, and back again. Twenty or so books are open and strewn about on the long table, looking as if they were caught in a sweeping wind. Long gone are her slippers, and the sleeved pink gown she donned before is abandoned in a silky puddle by the door.

Her chemise, a pale yellow thing with capped sleeves, has gone transparent from the perspiration that has broken out all over her body. It clings to every dip, every curve, shadowing her in a gauzy golden haze. Her bronze nipples tent through the delicate fabric and the thatch of hair over her womanhood matches in color-

Aemond snaps his gaze away, cheeks flaming.

“Ysilla.” He nearly shouts, stare finding his boots and staying there.

The woman in question spins around, catching sight of her uncle in the corner of her room, the hidden door she had never had enough courage to use ajar behind him.

“Aemond… you need to leave.” Her words rumble out of her, like there’s a beast in her belly, roaring through her skin and rattling her bones. “Leave!”

He doesn’t move and Ysilla hurls the rag in his direction.

“Did you not hear me? I said go!”

Annoyance chips away at Aemond’s embarrassment. He’s trying to help her, insufferable brat. “You don’t command me, Niece.” He responds, still refusing to look at her.

She scoffs, happy to channel her discomfort into a much more satisfying emotion. “You sneak into my room, catch me in the middle of undress, and still, you act put out.” Ysilla spits, her temper raising with her temperature.

Gods, she’s miserable. The moment she stepped foot in her bedchamber, her dressings were off, and she drank down water until she felt the urge to spew. It’s as if she can’t catch her breath- she’s so dizzy and her uncle’s sudden company has somehow made it worse. Her belly cramps, and she crosses her legs tightly in search of relief. She cries out, the budding sultriness in her flower springing to life, and wetness coats her thighs in a rush. Gasping, she nearly trips as she collides with her bed’s edge.

“Ysilla, breathe.” Aemond commands harshly.

His voice is so nice. Has it always been that nice? That soothing? Her snatch gives a happy thrum, her clit fluttering at the memory of his strong grip upon her arm. How he had held her steady in her dizziness, how he had towered over her, so imposing, so encapsulating, making sure she was well. Ysilla gasps, stunned at her body’s wanton reaction.

“You don’t understand. Please, go.” He’s her uncle- her uncle that doesn’t even like her. This cannot- will not happen.

“I need to get you to a maester. If you’re feeling what I’m feeling, if you’re feeling it worse, fuck, Ysilla, I need to get you help.”

He needs to stop saying her name like that, in that breathy, strained tone of his. He sounds exerted. He sounds exhausted. He sounds like he’s on the cusp of falling apart. It stokes the fire in her blood.

“The things I want to do to you… the things I want you to do to me.” She whines quietly, terrified that he’ll hear her.

A subtle knock-knock at her chamber door quiets them both, and they hold their breath. Again, a knock-knock echoes through, and Ysilla curses the diligence of her ladies. Aemond goes for it, stalking across the room in his usual strutting gait.

Ysilla panics and rushes forward, latching onto his arm and pulling him to a stop.

“Aemond, Uncle, please, send them away. I don’t want them to see me like this.” She begs, pleading with him through a glistening gaze.

Aemond readies his denial, sharp and bitter on his tongue but he loses his voice as he looks at her. He keeps his eye on her face, hyper aware of the press of her nearly naked figure against his side. Her heart shaped face is drawn in a frantic frown, terror rich and vast in her eyes. She smells of the Essos oils in her hair and the coconut oil on her skin, and it all makes his head go a bit fuzzy.

She squeezes his arm, again, a final silent plea. He nods his assent. Ysilla dashes behind him, slipping deeper into the room, blowing out candles until the bedchamber dims into darkness. She voices a small, urging hum, and Aemond takes his cue and yanks the door open. The visitor, a girl no older than three-and-ten, blinks at him in surprise.

“My Prince,” she curtsies hurriedly and Aemond nods his acceptance, but his face must spell out his impatience because she speaks so fast, her words stumble over one another. “I thought I heard the Princess in distress. I was coming to check on her, to make sure she’s alright.”

Her eyes dart over his shoulder, her head bobbing to the side as if she were trying to peek in. Aemond moves with her, raising his arm so that it rests above him in the doorway, pulling the door nearly closed behind him. The maid swallows, dropping her eyes in apology.

“The Princess isn’t well- very sick. Keep the other maids away, guards too. She wishes for solitude.” He’s a pushover and he hates it. One look of Ysilla’s beseeching gaze and Aemond gave like a straw bridge.

“Should I send a maester?” The maid asks worriedly, making to exit down the hall and find help.

“No!” The young girl jolts to a stop, her eyes wide with alarm. Aemond curses himself, and he speaks softer through gritted teeth. “No, she just needs rest. I’ll see to her, since I’ve already been exposed. I’ll call upon you if I change my mind.”

The maid eyes him cautiously, but she finally relents, dropping into a curtsy before hurrying down the wall.

On the other side of the door, Ysilla feels as if she’s going fucking mental.

She’s balled up her bedsheet, and wedged it between her quivering thighs. The fabric pressed so intimately against her cunt is unforgiving, soaking up her syrupy slick and giving little in return. But the friction along her clit makes her gasp, and it urges on her rutting in dreams of a release so sweet, she could cry.

The low droll of Aemond’s voice slithers into her ears from across the room, her mind warping the words until he’s whispering to her. What a good girl she is, how desperate she is to find her pleasure, how angry he is that she’s fucking her bed and not him. Ysilla’s eyes shoot open as she hears the squeak of her door, her hopes crashing as she realizes he’s pulling it shut while he’s behind it, not in front of it.

She collapses forward onto all fours, fisting the furs blanketing her duvet, smothering a broken moan into the softness. Her eyes peel open, her glassy gaze landing on her bedside table. Aemond’s handkerchief is still there- right where she’d left it- the emerald hue of it glowing midnight green in the candlelight. Suddenly, it’s in her grasp, even though she cannot recall moving for it. She presses it to her nose and draws in a shaky breath.

Oh, oh, it smells of him. Citrus and smoke and she’s drooling for it, mouth watering so quickly she has to swallow it down so she doesn’t slobber. She swings her hips forward before rolling backwards, dredging the sodden sheet through her sex. It’s so wet now, the smoothness almost feels like skin. And that’s too much for Ysilla- she can hear him, smell him, but the thought of Aemond in between her legs?- it sends her plummeting off the cliff of desire, her core pulsing vibrantly, pleasure buzzing through her whole body.

A phantom hand finds the same spot where Aemond had handled her earlier, and rips her upwards. She’s pulled to her knees, still atop the bed, as someone presses up behind her. Ysilla peers over her shoulder, the handsome face of her uncle a welcome sight. He is an apparition appearing from her thoughts alone. He doesn’t even seem real.

Her thoughts are askew with an edge of delirium, her insides purring at his sudden return. Ghoul or not, she will not squander such a golden opportunity. She fists the front of his shirt and drags him in, their mouths joining together harshly. Aemond would be lying if he said he didn’t kiss her back at once. It gets intense. Fast.

Ysilla melts into his chest, whimpering into his mouth while his grip goes from her elbow to sliding around her, dragging her in closer by her waist. His tongue finds her teeth and she opens up slowly, letting him feel the threat of them, as he slithers in and their tongues touch-

Aemond tears himself away, stumbling backwards, heaving for air and looking at her with a wide eye. Ysilla whimpers, her fantasy failing her, and she slips off the side of the bed to settle on wobbly legs. Her palm goes to press at her abdomen, hoping that the pressure will relieve the burrowing ache.

They stare at one another, wild animals on alert, a standoff that neither Prince nor Princess can bear to lose.

Ysilla’s gaze falls to his lips, and Aemond’s to hers. She bites her lip, sucking the meat into her wet, warm mouth before releasing it with a lurid pop. Aemond groans, an audible surrender.

To Hell with it all.

They crash into each other like lightning, hands mapping anywhere they can reach. Her body blooms for him, like a flower under the summer sky. He steers them back towards her bed, Ysilla blindly clamoring atop to sit while he stands tall. His touch on her skin has her thighs spreading, opening up and offering herself for his taking.

“I can’t stop, I can't stop.” He presses kiss after kiss to her mouth, her closeness doing nothing to extinguish the burning in his blood. If anything, she makes it worse, the inferno raging deeper and into his very soul.

“I don’t want you to stop.” She whines, snaking their legs together and threading her fingers through that beautiful hair of his.

She’ll enjoy this- him. Every inch of Aemond belongs to her tonight. She thinks of drawing the blade from his hip, and carving her name into his chest. Mark him up nice and neat, streak his pale powdery skin red with her desire. Whatever is happening to her- to them- summons something animalistic, something primitive out of the dark parts of their hearts. All tender fantasies of her future husband treating her with such a tame touch are cleaved in half and fed to the hounds. In their place, filthy, feral desires fester and warp her mind until one lone ambition remains: him inside of her, for the rest of their days.

“We don’t even like each other.” Aemond growls between their parting lips. Ysilla slides her way into his mouth, flirting with the sharpness of his teeth, suckling the sweetness out of his tongue.

“We can’t stand each other.” She affirms, breaking their lips apart, her hands already under his tunic, letting her palms drink in the ridges and rises of his impressive physique. She kisses along the strong edge of his jaw, curling her fingers into clenched claws and rips her way down his chest. Not a blade, but he bloodys all the same. Aemond snarls, catching her by the throat so brutally her teeth clack. His eye pierces through her like a blade, and Ysilla relishes in the pain, his touch upon her skin soothing away her ache.

“Bitch.” He hisses, what little familial respect they harbor for each other crushed under lust and loathing.

“Prick.” She bites back, grazing at his lip to send her point home. Gods, he’s so close but not close enough.

Ysilla pulls his hand between her legs- the one not choking her out- and Aemond cups her sex readily. Her heat damn near blisters him, and he grinds his palm into her slick folds, coating his hand in her arousal.

“Yessss…” She hisses in sated victory, her blood pumping thick as her body finally gets a taste of what it's been craving. Even one finger of his is nearly too much as he slips it in, the stretch a tepid burn that only gives way as her body adjusts.

“You need to be able to take more than that if you want to take my cock, Princess.” He whispers at her lips, already imagining how tight she’ll be around him. He won’t insult her by asking- he knows he’ll be her first. And the thought of that… of taking her maidenhead for his own, being the first man to be inside of her, searing himself into her memory that even time won’t take away… Aemond has to fucking focus.

“I can take it.” She assures him, head nodding wildly, her thighs splitting open even further. His grip has loosened around her throat, and he strokes where it’s sure to bruise, trying to not grow hot at the vision of his mark marring her body. He hums his approval, letting his middle finger glide forward, her essence enough to ease the way into her hole.

He scissors them, back and forth, working her pure channel open gently, basking in the silky tensing of her walls. The pained scrunch in her brow has disappeared, giving way to the pleasured furrow of her forehead, her hips beginning to roll up and meet his digits. She grabs ahold of his wrist, stopping his motions, and she pins him in place with a lavender leer.

“Take off your clothes.” It’s a command, no matter if it is spoken in her soft honeyed voice.

Aemond loses his shirt and unlatches his belt, tossing it and his sword onto the bench at the foot of her bed. His breeches slide off with Ysilla’s help, her eager fingers untying his laces. He kicks off his boots, not realizing how confined he felt with so many layers hindering him until his skin is bared. She moves backwards, further up her bed and he crawls after her, prowling like a wildcat, covetous sight trained on her.

The little minx yanks on his elbow, and he crashes into the mattress and suddenly, he’s the one on his back. Aemond lets Ysilla pin his wrists on either side of him, her victorious smile just as comely as the rest of her. Her breasts pillow against his chest, and dammit, she needs to hover above him so he can catch one in his mouth. But she denies him that treat, squeezing his wrists to focus his attention.

“Don’t move. That’s an order.” His cock twitches from where it’s pressed to her thigh and her lips twitch at his reaction. She kisses his throat, right at the base where his collar bones meet, and her whisper vibrates through to his heart. “Good boy.”

Ysilla takes her time, voyaging down his body, a traveler on a sought after journey. Her tongue flicks out over each of his nipples, teasing the perked flesh with little swipes of her slick pink muscle. She traces her nose over the jutting contour of his rib cage, counts his muscled abdominals until there’s numbers on both hands, and kisses the scar on his hip, long healed from a tumble off of Vhagar’s saddle when he was just a boy. The fine silver hair trailing down his groin is wispy and it tickles her chin.

Aemond’s cock is intimidating, even more so as she takes a lick from root to tip. The journey is longer than first guessed, and she thinks he grows even bigger after the swipe of her tongue, the jut of him swaying in the air as more blood thickens him out. The fact that all of that will be stuffed inside of her makes Ysilla shiver, her cunt yearning for the press of his long fingers.

Fervently, she swallows him down until he greets the back of her throat. The salt of him is jarring but not unwelcome- nothing can be unwelcome about this as Aemond sucks in a ragged breath and fists the sheets. The muscles in his arms strain and bulge, a sight that only incentivises her to keep sucking.

He’s a thick, velvety weight on her tongue, her mouth full even with inches still to spare. Her drool dribbles down his staff, and her hand wraps around what she cannot swallow. She glides her lips over his length rhythmically, jacking her fist over the rest of him, retreating with a pop to spit on his tip for more lubrication.

Ysilla has always been one for sweets but this? This is a taste she can find herself hankering for. She suckles on the head, dipping her tongue into his slit, shivering at the sharp burst of his spunk on her taste buds. She dives forward again, gagging around him, the intrusion into her throat a strange feeling she forces herself to adjust to.

Aemond keeps her hair pushed behind her ears, his thumbs stroking her temples as he fights to not thrust down her throat until she chokes. A familiar tightening in his sack has him voicing the exact opposite of what he wants her to do.

“Silla, pull off.” She’s on her fucking knees for him, he doesn’t need to defile her like this. Doesn’t need to treat her like a common whore and make her stomach his load.

She ignores him and he says her name again, more firmly, but she’s such a rebel, swallowing around him once more, letting him feel the constricting vice of her throat. He can’t take it- he gives her what she wishes.

“Silla, qrugh.” Cursing, he keeps her head still as he empties his balls and fills her belly. He hooks his thumb into her mouth, breathless, breaking the suction and pulls out of her throat. Ysilla coughs, gulping down air and saliva before she gifts him a shiny smile. Aemond scoffs. Unbelievable.

“You’re a nasty little thing.” He pants out, a compliment he means wholeheartedly.

She chuckles hoarsely, and her lips are still gooey with his seed.

“You love it.”

The urge to fuck her returns tenfold and he sits up, hand at the back of her neck to wrench her up to his mouth. She whimpers, swapping his cum between their tongues. It’s sticky and vulgar and overwhelmingly erotic.

Ysilla stumbles to her feet, pulling Aemond with her, leading him to the lounge area in front of her hearth. Their mouths remain intertwined, unwilling to part even for a moment. She pushes him into an armchair, the old velvet soft beneath him before following him down, and settling swiftly in his lap.

“Off.” He demands but he can’t help but be an active partner in his niece’s undressing. Her hands dash to the hem of her shift, gathering up the skirt hurriedly. His hands glide up her body, caressing the naked skin that is revealed to him as she pulls it up and over her head. She’s so sleek with sweat she looks polished- an apple ready to eat, something to be devoured.

“What do you want me to do?” Aemond asks, not for lack of knowledge but to see how far she wishes to take this.

Ysilla grins, ducking down and drawing him into an eager kiss. “Whatever you want to do. Just make me feel good.”

Loyal as a hound, Aemond’s mouth goes to her breast, her posture perfectly presenting her chest to him. He takes in as much as he can, greedily sucking and licking until her tender flesh blushes a bright sticky red. He rolls her pert nipple between his teeth, tugging just enough to make Ysilla gasp. She makes pretty sounds- he can’t wait to hear what she’ll sound like as he fucks her stupid. He switches to her other breast, feasting on her supple bosom like he’ll never eat again. His cock bobs upright, his body needing no time to rest, ready and racing to experience the delicacy of her cunt.

The Princess whines, combing through his tousled hair, tugging on it like she would horse reins. Such a commanding queen she’ll be.

“Need it, need you.” She whines, swinging her hips lower, searching for the weeping start of his prick.

“Easy, Ysilla.” He warns, even as his thoughts scream to grip her hips and teach her how to ride him, but she’s such a stubborn little dragon and her thoughts may be just as commanding as his. She leans back, reaching between her thighs until she brushes at the head of his cock and steadies him. Lining herself up, she sinks torturously slow, downdowndown every inch until she sits upon his thighs.

“Oh, fuck.”

“Oh… my.”

They both breathe out, blinking away black stars that dance in their vision, the pollen tapping every nerve ending in each of them until they sputter and fizz uncontrollably.

The discomfort fades for her faster than she’d thought, transforming into a pleasant fullness that she can feel heavily behind her stomach. Ysilla searches for what feels the best, moving faster and faster on Aemond’s lap as each new shift in position guides her further towards the liquid heat in her loins. She settles on swiveling up before dropping back down onto him, riding him like she’s saddled. Hot streaks of exhilaration engulf her insides, every pass of his cock adding to the ecstasy swirling inside of her. The stretch of him, not just from length but from width as well, itches the scratch left behind after the library disaster. Even as she tried to bring herself to pleasure earlier, there was something missing from her peak. Something that’s building, stacking, soaring fast in her belly. That final crest of a wave, ready to crash and drown anything that’s not pure, hot ecstasy-

Before it collapses back into a tidepool. The pitted feeling of falling through the air as you miss a step in the dark settles over her lust, and she jerks. Ysilla’s eyes snap open, her pupils blown so wide Aemond can barely see a ring of amethyst around them. She whines, bouncing on his cock faster, chasing a release she’s not sure she can find.

“Qybor, kostilus. I can’t cum like this.” Almost to make her point, she circles her hips up, leaving only the head of him kissed by her tight hole before dropping down and taking every inch of him at once. Aemond holds strong to his stamina, refusing to empty inside of his niece so quickly.

A shame though, he was so enjoying the view. He winds his arms around her hips, keeping her nice and close as he slips them off of the chair and onto the floor. Several furs keep them cushioned from the chilly stones below and he drags a pillow off the loveseat to ease her up on.

“Turn for me, sweetling.” He maneuvers her onto her belly, his grip finding her hips and shepherding her into position onto her hands and knees.

Aemond stands corrected- this view is nice. The burnished copper of Ysilla’s coloring clashes deliciously with his own pale complexion. Her backside is plush and hefty, budding from her shape in a way that invites his attention.

Whatever you want to do. Aemond slaps her right cheek, reveling in her sharp gasp, and the way a perfect red welt appears on the smooth skin. He lands another, on the opposite globe, hypnotized by the jiggle of the flesh. He strikes her again because he can, not ignorant to the way his rough treatment has her absolutely dripping down her thighs. Another for good measure, satisfied in the brilliant bruising he’s left behind.

Just make me feel good. He strokes his cock, still slick from her spit and her honey, and lines his head up at her opening. She arches up, dipping down onto her arms, raising her bottom to prop against him. The angle is too good not to take advantage of. Aemond spits, his foamy white saliva dripping viscously into her tight hole and he pushes it inside of her as he strokes forward.

Ysilla voices her approval of the new position, wiggling back against him as he goes as deep as she’ll take him. He builds a tempo, in out in out, finding a pace that makes her clench impossibly tighter. His sack slaps intensely at her clit, drawing punchy little gasps out of her that he wants to devour. He digs his fingertips into her hips, thumbs fanning out to stroke the luscious bounce of her bottom. He goes to pause, planning on switching his angle so that some strain can be relieved from her spine.

“No! Aemond, stay there, right there, yessss.” Ysilla flails her hand behind her blindly, not stopping her begging until she smacks into his naked torso. Aemond stares down at his niece in confusion, catching sight of her profile, her eyes trained intently on something that is certainly not him.

He looks up, and catches his reflection staring back at him from across the room. The giant wardrobe mirror is tucked into the corner, and the Gods are good because they're directly in its path, their coupling on display for their viewing pleasure.

Aemond drops down, blanketing Ysilla with his body, watching his Other do the same. “Oh, I see.” He chuckles, driving into her slowly.

It’s almost as if they’re watching someone else- surely the couple in the reflection cannot be them. No poise, no manners, not even an ounce of trepidation to be seen. In place, disheveled, howling, rutting animals grind against each other, naked and insouciant in search of their gratification. Aemond enjoys the portrait they make, admiring it so much that he stalls in his thrusting and stills completely inside of Ysilla.

“Aemond, come on.” She whines, moving impatiently against him. “Nākostōbā taoba, making me do all the work.” She mewls, riding down and humping his cock.

Aemond’s trance snaps, and he secures a fistful of her hair, forcing his niece into a backbend. He ignores her yelp, smacking her thigh to halt her gyrations. His lips go to her ear, and this close to her throat, he can hear the lifeblood rushing through her arteries.

“What was that?”

“I just thought, unhhh… just thought you would be a bit more… involved in this.” She giggles, fucking laughs even as her bones creak for mercy. It’s harder to breathe this way, and the lightheadedness spurs on her mouth. “Thought you wanted this as badly as I did.”

Little fucking brat. He laughs too, because it’s funny. Funny because of how right she is- he should be more involved in this, a bit more committed. Ysilla stills at the sound, the audible swallow of her gulping nervously has his cock jumping in interest. Her fear is just as tasty as her willingness.

He crosses both arms over her chest, his forearms thick bars over her throat and he forces her up, so he can fuck his cock into her belly and watch her tits bounce as he does so. Ysilla’s face contorts into a euphoric mask, her eyes rolling back into her head and her pouty mouth hanging open in slack-jawed pleasure as he pounds her ruthlessly.

“Something on your mind, Princess?” She doesn’t respond, her brain being fucked straight out of her head.

Aemond slaps her face, the sharp crack bringing her back to the present, and back to Aemond fucking her like he owns her. She moans again, her pussy spouting a wash of arousal around his bullying cock. He catches her by the jaw, digging his thumb into the bone and rubbing at the struck flesh of her cheek. His lips are wet at her ear, and she watches him through glossy eyes as he smirks, and bites down on her ear lobe.

“Answer me, Ysilla.” His niece shouts but Aemond has no sympathy for her. If she can dish it out, she can take it. “You did want this? Or you do want this?”

He’s searching for the willpower to pull out of her, and put her over his knee to send home his message when she babbles out her acquiescence.

“I want this! Bisa, bisa, bisa, fuck, gaoman gaoman. I want you, Gods, nyke jaelagon ao!” Valyrian braids through her words without forethought, her focus aimed on Aemond’s cockhead tapping at her womb.

“Sȳz riña.” She preens at the endearment, throwing her hips back against him frantically. A beautiful toothy smile has broken brightly over her face, Aemond catching sight of it in the mirror before he shatters the grin, nailing a spongy spot inside of her that makes her eyes cross.

“Sooo good, so fucking big, feel you right here.” She tries to gesture to her throat but she ends up digging her nails into the arms caging her in, hanging off of him desperately. Her poor battered cunny is still somehow famished for more, the squelch of his cock moving in and out of her a licentious lyric that lulls both lover’s into a trance. Aemond pulls her even tighter to his front, however possible that may be, and plunges repeatedly into her snug cunt, beating the walls of her swollen so she won’t be able to walk without thinking of him first.

As if they miss each other, Aemond’s and Ysilla’s eyes meet in the mirror, violent violet and silver steel clashing and melding into one harmonious color.

Their stares fall lower, where they meet over and over and over again so brutally. Her thighs glisten in the candlelight, her flesh rippling with every thwack of Aemond’s hips. It’s so dirty, so primal, so right. He’s going so deep, he could put a babe in her belly. Just a whisper of that fantasy, of her giving him a child, letting him have such a claim on her breaks her apart.

She screams, Aemond’s palm smacking over her mouth as her thighs give out, and she sags to the floor. He follows her down, draping himself over her back, still fucking her in earnest, chasing his own blissful breaking point. He finds it, after three more punishing thrusts. But even as his balls release and he feels Ysilla grow slicker as his seed coats her insides until it leaks a white ring from where they’re joined, his cock is still hard and heaving from his body.

He pulls out and Ysilla sobs at the loss, scrambling on the furs, but her cries disintegrate as she’s flipped onto her back. Aemond slings both of her legs into the crooks of his elbows, yanking her forward so he’s flush to her thighs, her pussy a pretty little jewel winking up at him. His seed oozes a pearl stream from her fluttering hole and he swipes it up with his cock, and it’s as slippery as oil as he bottoms out inside of her.

Fucking Seven, she’s unreal. “Taking every inch of me… like you were made for this, ñuha pretty līve.”

“Made for you, I think.” Ysilla gasps, ripping at the furs, trying to anchor herself down so she doesn’t burst apart.

Aemond nips at her chin, doing nothing to quell the smug smile on his niece’s lips. “Careful.”

Careful for what? She wants to question so badly. Careful on what she voices aloud, even as they speak it in both of their minds? Careful on implying that her cunt will not weep for him anytime he passes by her? Careful to claim that the only place he should be after tonight is right where he is now?

But it is not the time for words of the heart, so she digs her nails into Aemond’s broad shoulders in a gnaw and throws her head back.

“I’m right there. Yes, Aemond, yes!”

Oh, is she now? Aemond grins, slowing his thrusts to purposefully watch her eyes shoot open incredulously.

“Don’t stop! Fuck, why are you stopping?” Ysilla growls, circling her hips up against him, doing her best to fuck him herself. So desperate, so full of unadulterated desire, she cannot find it within herself to be appalled at her own salaciousness.

“I thought you couldn’t cum like this?” Aemond mocks and oh, it’s fun to play with her.

Her decorum deserting her, Ysilla lets anger lead her movements and her hand flies at his face to strike him. He catches her easily, still smiling that infuriatingly sexy smirk, and drops a modest kiss on the heel of her palm. She melts, her love bitten lips pouting dramatically.

“Aemond, ñuha zaldrīzes, please.” He likes when she begs- she can see it in the way his jaw ticks, how his skin flushes, as if his body alights in her prayers to him. Aemond won’t acknowledge it, but somewhere deep in his chest, she’s already wormed her way in. He splits her in half, leaning over her until he can rest his palms by her shoulders, her legs still draped over each of his arms.

He drags himself out, inch after inch, agonizingly slow before he lurches forward, making her pussy swallow his entire cock. He groans, finding himself burrowed in the valley of her breasts, letting his hips pummel her in an amorous hammering.

“Scream for me, love.”

She doesn’t need to be told twice- her lungs finding the air to blurt out,

“Aemond, fucking hell!”

Ysilla goes limp, her thighs butterflying open, giving him full reign to dictate her pleasure. She squirts, a wet spray soaking his abdomen that puddles beneath them. Her whole body heaves, appearing almost pained in euphoria. She’s a holy vision.

Fuck, he’s losing his mind. “Do that again.” He demands.

He cups the back of her neck, propping her up until they’re eye to eye. Ysilla’s are lidded, exhaustion heavy weights upon them, but she manages a tiny nod and curves herself upwards for his continued onslaught.

Completely at his mercy, his to control, Aemond takes full advantage. Dragging her down by the back of her neck, he plunges himself brutally inside of her cunt over and over, again and again. She lies there and takes it like a good girl, witnessing her uncle destroy her in the name of desire until he grants her mercy, and he strokes her pearl with the sharp edge of his thumbnail and she blacks out.

He chokes, sparks shimmering in and out of his vision as she convulses around his cock. He pulls out of her, spurting striping streaks of white onto her belly. He cums so hard, it splashes over her tits and even pools in the hollow of her throat.

Ysilla moans, coming to, rubbing her fingers over the soiled skin of her stomach, blending their releases together in a filthy film that coats her fingers. She pops one in her mouth, and relishes in the blossoming light brightening once more in Aemond’s lone eye.

And just as quickly as their relief had come, the satisfaction fizzles out and ravenous blood boiling need takes root once more.

They groan, barely taking time to catch their breath before they’re on each other again. Their mouths are sloppy, leaving trails of saliva down to their chins and along their throats. Ysilla finds a spot she likes over his pulse point and suckles, her left leg wound tight over his hip, rubbing herself off along the unyielding ridge of the bone. Aemond kneads her arse, an apology for his abuse, rolling the voluptuous flesh in his calloused grip all the while dipping his fingertips in and out of her weeping slit.

They tangle in each other’s webs, so caught up in salt and sin that they don’t realize they’re off the rugs and across the floor until the frigid chill rushes through them.

It’s uncomfortable- their knees will be bruised by the morrow, scrapes along their backs will sting while in the bath, and a crick won’t leave Ysilla’s neck for half a moon. But the stone cools their overheated skin and together is where they still want to be, so all else falls to the wayside.

Their mouths have drawn back to each other, Ysilla’s tongue dancing over his back teeth and the roof of his mouth, mapping a place she can only dream of revisiting after tonight. Aemond pulls away and Ysilla’s teeth in his bottom lip scold him for his interruption. He smirks, giving her a departing peck to soothe her sour mood.

“I need to meet her properly, Princess.” He says with an uncharacteristic amount of mirth, leaning her back as he dips down to her lower body.

Ysilla is bone-weary and dehydrated, but even she knows that doesn’t make any sense. She cocks her head in confusion, watching him as he settles on his front, his face so close to her center, the hot damp of his breath makes her quiver.

“Who is her- oh! Oh, Seven Hells, Aemond, fucking please-”

Aemond eats her with a fervor she’s never known, a man starved before being offered the bounty between her legs. Shrill gasps and pitched moans are sounds she thought herself incapable of making, but they sing aloud, her walls stowing them in their stones.

Her thighs are tight around his head, but the cushioned flesh does nothing to block out her calls of ecstasy. Music to his fucking ears, he slurps, undignified and ravenous, the parched dryness in his throat at last quenched as he swallows down Ysilla’s honey. No wine, no water could ever satisfy him like she does.

She thrashes about on the unforgiving stone, her nails clawing at the ground so harshly that they chip. He’s sending her into madness, unrelenting in his licking even as she kicks at his sides. She’s too sensitive, it’s too much.

And then, the realization that he is not only lapping up her arousal but his as well, zings up her spine and has her gushing all over his tongue.

She can’t control herself anymore. Her worries have faded into nothingness as the night has gone on, as she had bounced on Aemond’s cock and came into his mouth and he into hers, and they’ve drank down one another’s spit and sweat and sex. She’s whimpering and whining, squeaky sounds with no words, only what her voice is capable of making. The pathetic, needy gasps draw Aemond’s attention immediately. He rises, hovering over her, pulling up her knees to frame his hips. He slides himself home, not being able to breathe until he bottoms out, fully planted inside of her.

She whimpers louder as he faces her, the effects of the potion hitting their last peak.

“Let me see you. Let me see you.” Ysilla begs, distraught that there’s still something keeping them apart. They should be bare- exposed and raw and free. They’ve already come this far- it’s all or nothing.

Even with her few words, Aemond understands her completely. He doesn’t give himself time to think, time to let self-consciousness tear and twist him up as he rips off his eyepatch.

Ysilla sees him- truly sees him- his scar, the jagged split of his brow, the brilliant blue sapphire twinkling a wink at her as it glitters in the low light.

“You’re so handsome.” And then she cries- big, fat, bulbous tears that spill from the corner of her eyes and streak over her cheeks.

Aemond wants to comfort her, shush her and stroke her hair. Do all the things he should do with a lover that’s not only a lover, but his kin as well. A sweet girl he remembers always drawing for him on his nameday, sketching pictures of fearsome dragons. And as the years dragged on, they continued to evolve, growing fiercer and more detailed and she would always say the same thing when she gifted it to him: “this year, Uncle, this year you’ll find your match, I know it.” And here he is now, the Queen of the Skies his dragon, as if Ysilla herself had manifested it to life.

But that was so long ago now that it seems a different lifetime, and Aemond realizes he doesn’t really know his niece. He doesn’t know what she likes and what she doesn’t, and that worries him more than he’s comfortable with.

“Can’t... take… much… more.” She gulps down a breath after each word. Aemond’s thrusts push so deeply into her guts, that there now seems to be no room for her lungs. He hums, the vibration tickling where they’re pressed chest-to-chest.

“Yes you can, jorrāelagon. You’ve done so well, taken everything I’ve given you. You’ve made me so proud, sweet girl.” He may not know how to soothe her, but Aemond has a knack for telling someone just what they need to hear. Only with Ysilla, he speaks no falsehoods. He whispers his admiration in her ear, keeping her close by a hand cupping her jaw, forcing her to listen to all of his praises, all the while snaking his hand down between them to pinch at her pearl.

Small hiccuping gasps couple with her agonized moans; the pride, the pleasure, the pain, all of it an elixir he drinks down his throat as she connects their lips once more, a soft tremble in hers that he soothes with his tongue. They cum together, less intense than their lasts, but still just as satisfying. Aemond spills inside of her, her silken walls milking him for every drop in his fucked out cock. He moans, long and loud into her neck and she peppers his cheek with kisses, her breathing heavy. He collapses, further down on her body so he doesn’t constrict her chest.

The evening tempo of her breathing beneath his cheek has Aemond focusing on his own, and the two spent lovers take a much needed break to collect themselves.

Tremors still shake her thighs, the creamy fawn flesh jumping from overstimulation. Aemond presses a kiss to the inside of her knee, a sweet assurance of relief hopefully not far behind their releases. She pets his hair, no energy left to even raise her head. He rises back up to look upon her face, wiping away a stray tear from her lash. She nuzzles into his hand and it all finally feels like enough.

Until it isn’t. Until the lust fills them up once more, water in a pail, and it overflows and sloshes thickly in their bellies until they’re sick with it.

Ysilla sobs brokenly, exhausted and at her wits end. Aemond shudders for breath, the pain in his stones throbbing incessantly for relief. They’ll lose their minds if they keep going- chasing an endgame that is unattainable.

Aemond digs deep, attempting to collect himself and become the man Ysilla needs him to be. He tucks her legs around his hips, crossing her ankles behind him, and rises up to his feet with her draped around him.

He carries them both on shaky legs, drifting along the wall for support until he rounds the corner to her privy. The golden casted tub is filled halfway with what was once steaming, boiled water but has now grown cool. He swings a leg over the edge, trying not to collapse, Ysilla still wrapped around him like a second skin and settles them both into the pool.

The Princess crumbles, falling to pieces as they’re engulfed by the water. Her heartbeat still thrums from between her legs, her nipples scraping at Aemond’s chest for attention, as if he had not lauded them with his tongue until they were bruised and sore. The undying urge to mate is at her throat, its teeth gnashing at her veins and claws piercing her hips, ushering her to fucklicksuckfuck again and again and again until her brain would be lost to the lust.

But her body is done- every muscle expended, every limb weighted, every bone crushed to nothing but dust. All she can manage to do is whimper softly from where she’s pressed into her lover’s chest.

Aemond cups her face, raising her up so that he can look upon her. She’s a sculpture of desire: lips puffy and rubbed red, cheeks flushed, eyes teared and heavy. He did this to her.

“One more, love. One more and then we’ll stop.” He promises, the need too heavy in his cock, thickening his member until it lies straight up against her stomach.

She nods stiffly, spreading her thighs until they mirror his hips. He taps the head of himself at her entrance, a gentleman waiting for the lady to make the first move. He doesn’t have to wait long, Ysilla pushing forward and taking his cock in full until their bellies rest flat against each other. She’s as tight as the first time, and the stretch is not lost on her either, her groan equal parts pained and pleased.

Aemond’s hands are worshiping as he trails down the elegant column of her neck, the slope of her shoulder, the bloom of her breast, until he finds the small of her back and hugs her tight. They just dance, slow and steady, rolling their hips together, the water shifting with their union. They rest their foreheads against one another, eyes closed and noses brushing.

Aemond isn’t sure who leans in first- he thinks it may have been him but Ysilla will say the opposite. Their mouths slot together, innocent and vestal and it’s so much less eager than the times before, but it makes it all the more intimate. He moans weakly and she coos, her hands coming to cradle his face, the breaths they share one in the same. Somehow, it’s as if this exposes them more to each other than being joined so sensuously. A simple press of their lips, doing more for them than a thousand slippery tongues or nimble fingers.

A gentle wash of pleasure, one that raises goosebumps along their arms and makes their breaths hitch is all that they get and then suddenly, finally, the call for gratification quiets and all prince and princess are left with is the drip of water off the edge of the tub. Ysilla sighs heavily, sounding every bit thankful and spent. Aemond takes a breath that feels like his first, and he sags against the resistance at his back.

Everything is still, weariness seeping into them like ink to parchment. Aemond thinks he could doze off right here, Ysilla a comforting weight atop of him, his manhood still nestled in her center.

Her palm is gentle on his cheek, her thumb rubbing back and forth in a tender sweep that stirs his eyelid to open. She’s beautiful, even in her enervation and he lets himself savor this moment. The world has paused for them, and it will not go on unless they will it to.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” She whispers, afraid to shatter the silence. A final brush of her thumb over his bottom lip, softer than a feather, is her parting gift. She unseats herself from him, and even if she’s the one who wants to leave, her cunt does not agree. Her walls grasp at every ridge and vein of his prick, a caress goodbye until at last they part. Ysilla floats backwards, away from him, and the fact that he has an urge to catch her wrist and pull her back until she’s closer than skin terrifies him.

She curls into a ball at the other side of the tub, an ocean away, and brings her knees to tuck under her chin. She stares at him unflinchingly and he stares back, tiredness glazing over them both.

Aemond sighs deeply. One of them has to be the first to depart and since his quarters are on the other side of the castle, he begrudges that it is him who will have to make an exit.

“I should go.”

Ysilla’s face is serene, every drop of willpower left in her battling the urge to slip beneath the water and fade away. She nods, a wooden lift and fall of her head.

“I think that’s best… I’m sure the whole castle knows what we’ve been up to.”

Why her response stings, he won’t let himself dwell over. Nothing’s changed (everything has changed), they will soon return to their routines and carry on with their lives (neither one of them will be able to think of anything else but each other for the better part of a year). He rises from the water, stepping out and over the tub, reaching for a linen to at least try and make himself decent.

It is she who catches his wrist in reality, her thin fingers looping over the bones until she surrounds him like shackles.

“But… maybe…” Her eyes traverse their way down his body, revisiting the spots she had tasted, had bitten, had sucked. Her tongue snakes out, wetting her swollen flesh and he has to think of the night he lost his eye, the stench of manure, anything to keep the blood from rushing to his spent cock.

“Gods, Aemond, what’s one more bad decision tonight?” She’s not looking for an answer, not out loud, looking deep into his eye instead. Searching for an understanding she’s not sure is there.

“Stay? With me?” Even after all the carnal ways they’ve explored each other, it’s those three pleading words that send Ysilla’s heart galloping in her chest as she voices them.

He stares at her, unanswering and still, and dread creeps up her neck in a cold chill.

“Your chamber is a mess. We both need to eat and drink something other than wine. Not to mention sleep.” Aemond states stonily. Ysilla swallows passed the knot in her throat, sinking deeper into the water. Her fingers release him and she drifts away, in both body and mind.

Aemond catches her fingers, and he threads his through hers like they’re meant to be there. He rubs small, soothing circles about her knuckles, and he brings them to his mouth on pure instinct, and presses a chaste kiss to the bones.

“So I best bring you to my room then, to make sure all of that happens, no?”

Aemond smiles first before Ysilla returns it widely. Hers is the sun appearing from behind a cloud, warmth bathing him, and welcoming him home.

qrugh . shit

Qybor, kostilus . Uncle, please

Nākostōbā taoba . Weak boy

(I want this!) Bisa, bisa, bisa, fuck, gaoman gaoman. I want you, Gods, nyke jaelagon ao! . This, this, this, fuck, I do I do. I want you, Gods, I want you!

Sȳz riña . Good girl

ñuha pretty līve . my pretty whore

ñuha zaldrīzes . my dragon

Jorrāelagon . love

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