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smuttysabina · 2 months

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Tropical Passions with Lisa

(Lisa x Male Reader, 5.3k Words) Tags: Incest with your older sister Lalisa; A conflicted sibling relationship; A forceful start to the sex; Makeup sex; Creampies; Virgin sex; Getting deflowered by your hot older sister is fun; Blowjob; Intimate sex; Technically some cucking going on; Written in one sitting; Step-sibling sex is for cowards, make them blood related; A wholesome and loving conclusion

You had always hated your older sister Lalisa. She had constantly hogged your parents' and peers' attention, gorging herself on their praise while your own achievements had been duly ignored; and of course, she had been an unrepentant slut. It was a rare night that your sleep had not been uninterrupted by the sounds of Lisa fucking some lover of any gender, her bed creaking so badly she required a new one every year, how she managed to remain unimpregnated was beyond you. Naturally, growing up with such a whore of a sister had caused you to follow the complete opposite path, so while she had ascended to sex-drenched idol-hood, you had instead quietly completed school and gotten yourself a pure and sweet girlfriend. Not that you had done anything yet. Sex before marriage? Appalling! Public displays of affection? Disgusting! Mutual Masturbation? Nauseating! Hand holding, fingers locked? Perverse! Only the chastest of kisses, and wholesome hugs were allowable, and it brought you no small amount of joy that she wholeheartedly agreed with you. So it infuriated you to no end that you were unable to bring her along with you on yet another family vacation to some tropical retreat, no doubt your parents were overly worried about how she would react to your harlot of a sister, but you looked forward to seeing her again. You just had to make it through dealing with whatever mindless debaucheries your big sister Lisa had cooked up for this trip...

Awareness comes slowly to you, reality slowly bleeding into your dreams as you gradually become aware of your surroundings, your nerves tingling as they lazily report upon the myriad sensations assaulting them. The exquisite softness of the sheets encasing you, the gentle cold air of the AC caressing your face, the burning sensitivity of your staggering erection digging into the mattress, and the strange patch of warmth in the bed beside you. You start, flinching away from the person curled up mere inches from you, scooting to the edge of the mattress as they groan softly in protest. Lisa blearily raises her head up from her pillow, squinting at you in confusion before collapsing back onto it and letting out an indignant whine, wriggling to find a comfortable position before falling back asleep. Your heart hammering, you slip carefully out of bed, doing your best not to disturb your sister, all the while cursing your parents for forcing you to share a room with her, this was certainly not helping you two bond. The fact that there was only bed was a further annoyance, it was a huge one to be sure, but Lisa seemed to unconsciously seek out heat in her sleep and latch onto her target like a leech, so in reality you ended up far closer together than you would have liked. Which made dealing with your morning wood all the more awkward, since you were loath to masturbate, your member tended towards truly spectacular erections come the dawn, urging you to give in to your vile thoughts and pleasure it. Ignoring your disgustingly drooling penis was difficult at the best of times, but with the scent of a woman in your nostrils, no matter that she was your sister, made resisting your wicked meat nearly unbearable. Every morning you would cover it in an ice-cold washcloth, but even then it would defiantly stand strong for many minutes before ungraciously retreating. Needless to say, your testicles were in constant agony.

After dealing with your unwanted visitor, you check your phone, lovingly responding to your girlfriend's messages before learning that your parents once again had skipped off on some early morning jaunt and would only be back by evening. So, yet another day you would have to spend solely in the company of your whore sister, wonderfully. Though, to be fair to Lisa, you had yet to see her engage in her usual wanton behaviour, you did not doubt for a moment that she had been busy messing around while you were not looking. With a resigned sigh you order breakfast, spend the next hour idly munching upon it, waiting for your sister to finally get her lazy ass out of bed. Eventually she stirs, and yawning a good morning she stumbles into the bathroom, not bothering to close the door as usual so you are forced to listen as she voids her bladder. Lisa plops down into the chair across from you with a smile, wearing little more than an overly large shirt and her underwear, an outfit which makes perfect sense considering the heated locale. Cheerfully devouring some fruit, she kindly asks if you had any ideas what you wanted to do today? After all, yesterday you two had such a great time at the aquarium, Lisa hadn't seen you that excited in years! In the face of such relentless enthusiasm you give in, and tentatively raise the idea of going snorkeling together? Beaming, your sister happily agrees.

You had always felt somewhat disgusted whenever your sister had worn something showy, a natural reaction for a sibling to have, but also one born out of disapproval of her loose living. Still, you grudgingly had to admit that Lisa looked absolutely stunning in her yellow bikini, no wonder so many men were desperately enthralled by her. Her tanned skin gorges upon the sunlight, the dappled reflection of the water only serving to enhance her beauty, even with the giant goggles and snorkel goofily attached to her face she still turned heads as you strode deeper into the surf together. She even held your hand as she guided you into the ocean, something you could barely tolerate, yet over the past few days, and against your better judgement, you had felt yourself warming up to your benighted sister, but just a little bit. You get a faceful of Lisa's ass as she smoothly switches from walking to swimming, and a slight tingling fills your groin; perhaps you should not grow too relaxed around this slut lest you be corrupted... But the next few hours pass in a delightfully wholesome fashion, the pair of you leisurely swimming along the reef and admiring the reefs and flourishing wildlife; it was almost enough to make you forget what a whore Lisa was.

It was only later that day though, that the old Lisa you knew so well started to shine through this charade she was putting on. You were relaxing in a small, shaded pool, secluded by shrubbery with your sister curled up intimately close to you, chatting idly about how the day had gone when she finally pops the question. Wearing the sly grin universal to older siblings everywhere, Lisa asks, "So, tell me about this girlfriend of yours, is she cute?" Blood rushes to your face immediately as you sputter at the sudden inquiry, which only makes your sister's smile grow ever more predatory. She squishes herself against your side, throwing an arm around your shoulder and cooing, "Don't be shy, show me a picture of her, c'mon!" Flustered, you haltingly pull up a picture of you beloved on your phone for Lisa to hem and haw at appreciatively, her eyes flicking all over the screen as she judges her in a thousand minute ways before nodding in approval, "She looks pretty enough, has she been treating you well?", Lisa gives you a knowing smirk, "How is she in bed?" A surge of outrage fills you as you angrily inform your dear sister that you and your girlfriend had not engaged in any such foul activities, nor would you be until you were happily! Lisa gawps at your outburst, cold fury crossing her face before giving way to worry, "Is it... not working for you two in bed," she places a hand on your thigh in support, mere inches away from a bulging pressure in your shorts, "Are you... unable to get it up with her?" You repay her honest concern with open scorn, grumbling angrily, you surge up out of the cozy pool and storm off back to your room, leaving Lisa yelling platitudes at your retreating back. Really, she really just did not understand!

Lisa watches her baby brother stomp away with hurt roiling in her stomach, what the fuck was wrong with him? Well, she partially knew, honestly how could she not feel more than a little guilty about being an awful older sister growing up? Being the village bicycle had satisfied her powerful sexual needs, but it had no doubt given her brother all sorts of unwanted pressure and attention. Of course, once she had become an idol, her sexual appetites had grown voracious, and no doubt embarrassing to her younger sibling back home, but she had always made sure to try and send gifts to cheer him up. Instead he seemed to loathe Lisa, and no matter how hard she tried to patch things up, things always fell apart, usually whenever he caught her slaking her desires with some new lover. But not on this trip! No, on this trip Lisa had been on her best behaviour, applying every ounce of her willpower to keep her lusts in check, engaging in only the most innocently enjoyable activities with her brother; displaying nary a glimpse of her usual sex life. In spite of that, he had been downright weird since he had gotten here, well, more so than usual. She had expected the customary puritanical song and dance, but with him having a girlfriend for a couple years now, she had hoped he would have opened up a little. But no, instead if anything he seemed even more repressed than normal, getting hard constantly and always on edge about everything. He was leaking so much at night Lisa could smell his precum staining the sheets in the morning, and she was honestly surprised his raging erection had not torn a hole in his boxers whenever he scrambled out of bed to use the restroom. Hell, he hadn't masturbated even once since they had gotten to this tropical paradise, most guys would have blown a few loads in the shower and dispelled the tension, if anything Lisa was not sure if he had cum even a week before the trip!

The constant reek of pent up semen in their room was starting to get to Lisa, she was already feeling twitchy, having deprived herself of sexual stimulation for so long, this was probably the most days she had gone without fucking in years. She really should take her own advice and at least masturbate, but the last thing she wanted was her brother sheepishly returning to apologize only to find her knuckle deep inside herself, so she endured. Still, something was obviously wrong in her little brother's relationship, and she was determined to fix it; after all, even as warped as she had become, she still felt responsible for him as his older sister. But first, Lisa needed some advice, and not from the other girls in Blackpink. Jisoo would give some well-meaning yet ultimately useless suggestions, Rose would offer up some complicated scheme that would really just be a front for sadism, and Jennie would simply message 'On my way', before showing up and traumatically fucking the life out of your brother in under half an hour after landing. No, Lisa needed to ask some of her more.... normal friends; well, relatively normal. Minutes later she was chatting avidly on the phone with Jihyo and Nayeon, both of whom were appalled by the situation their dear friend was in. Jihyo was apoplectic that Lisa's brother was not putting such potent loads to good use and impregnating his girlfriend, while Nayeon was practically drooling at the thought of being the first one to receive said load. But after a solid hour of intense conversation, the trio had produced a solution that would undoubtedly solve Lisa's darling brother's problems. It would merely require Lisa to break one of society's oldest taboos, but having broken so many already, what was one more?

You feel thoroughly wretched as you lay upon the massive king bed, your sister had been only showing you concern, and yet you had brutally rebuffed her kindness. Normally it was so easy to hate Lisa, you would only need to turn a corner while fetching ice and find her being publicly spitroasted by strangers like some sort of cheap whore, but this time at least there had been none of that. She had been the sweetest older sister a brother could ask for, constantly indulging him, taking him to see all the sights and lavishing him with love and attention; it made you uneasy. Surely Lisa was hiding something, some depraved scheme that she was enjoying while being outwardly wholesome, it had happened before, more than a few times actually. But this time she had seemed genuine, which only left you all the more conflicted, were you the one in the wrong this time? Your morose musings are halted only when Lisa enters the room, who quietly joins you on the bed, patting you reassuringly on the shoulder, "Hey, I'm sorry if I upset you earlier today, why don't we have an early night okay? I'm sure things will be better in the morning." Mulishly, you nod in assent, and slowly join her for a simple dinner at the small table, which passes by in awkward silence. Lisa only speaks up as you get into bed, "Leave your shirt off, I think something is wrong with the AC, it feels really stuffy in here..." She's right, so with reticence you take it off, and snuggle in under the covers as Lisa joins you in bed. She gives your forehead a kiss, "I love you baby brother," before flicking off the light. Perhaps the morning would heal your rift?

Once again you awaken with an inconveniently large erection impaling the mattress, with a now-familiar hot spot behind you. Groggily, you attempt to wriggle out of bed to douse your morning's embarrassment once more, but find your way barred by an arm thrown around your chest. Your confusion only grows as you realize the heat from your sleeping sister was not from her laying nearby you, but rather because she was pressed up against you, with two hard points supported by surprising softness pushing into your back. Unable to process this development, you attempt to escape Lisa's clutches, but her arm holds you tight against her warm body, and your struggles only serve to wake her up. Your big sister stretches languidly against you, which only serves to emphasize what exactly her supple form feels like as it slides against your skin; you were not the only one going shirtless it seems. You feel a perverse fascination with the sensation of Lisa's breasts, and are distracted enough that when she casually pushes onto your back and slips atop you, you offer little resistance. She gives you a sleepy smile, her face mere inches away from your own, and gives you a kiss, "Good morning baby brother, it's time to make things better..." Displeasure wells up within you once more, and you tartly ask for her to get off you, and to put some clothes on. Lisa laughs gently at this and sits up, allowing the sheets to cascade down her smooth body, revealing her perky tits, the lighter skin making the dark of her erect nipples stand out all the more; and further down... Further down the bare skin of her thick pussy lips squishes against your gargantuan hardon, the warmth of her sex burning against your shaft. You stare up in shock at your older sister's nude body, as she patiently allows you to drink in the sight of her, before sliding her hands up your chest, "Are you ready for it? Just relax, and let your big sister do all the work."

Belated realization finally hits your brain hard enough to dispel the fog of arousal filling it, and you snarl in denial at Lisa, get the fuck off of you! But your sibling ignores your demands, and when you try to push her away she catches your hands and pins you down with surprising strength; as she frowns in annoyance, "Fuck, calm down! I am sick and tired of your weird chastity bullshit, it's not normal, so I'm going to take some responsibility as your older sister and fix things," Moving your hands above your head so she can keep them down with one of hers, she smoothly reaches down and pulls out your filthy dick, which drools disgustingly in excitement. Running a finger through the bubbling precum, Lisa seductively licks it clean, before giving you a sharp look, "Wait, when was the last time you came? Just how pent up are you?" Flushing with impotent fury and embarrassment, you answer truthfully, it had been two weeks since your treacherous manhood had last filled your sheets while you slept. Your sister shakes her head incredulously, "Yeah, that is fucking weird, you have a cute girlfriend, use her you moron; or just masturbate like a normal guy!" Lisa sighs, "Okay, let's do this, time to get your cherry popped little brother!" Regaining her usual cheer, your sibling ignores your struggles as you writhe and buck beneath her, her panties shoved into your mouth to stifle your continuous screams of outrage, as she slowly lines herself up. Your older sister gives you the sweetest smile, "I love you," before taking your virginity.

The sordid heat of Lisa's cunt engulfs your sensitive member, its soft folds slobbering all over your shaft as it devours every inch of you until her lower lips kiss your crotch. You groan in despair as your innocence is lost, you had intended that your first time be with your beloved on the night of your marriage, but instead your slut of a- Your body abruptly silences your internal raging as it floods your brain with pleasure, responding to the overwhelming and novel stimulation coming from your cock, it reacts naturally. You groan as your hips slam treacherously upwards, and the fattest load of your life explodes into your sister, richly rewarding her pussy for taking your virginity. Lisa lets out a soft gasp as you creampie her, she had barely even sat on your dick and you were already cumming in her; she smirks, virgins always finished so quickly. She opens her mouth to congratulate you, then pauses and glances down, where your balls continue to pulse; slowly, she slides herself back up your shaft as you gradually fill her pussy with your seed. Post-coital bliss wrestles with horrid guilt, as the catastrophic euphoria of your orgasm fades, remorse stabbing at you for so enjoying being forcibly assaulted by your own sister. Lisa meanwhile is ogling as she tentatively pokes at her sloppy holes, even filled to the brim she was barely leaking, "Fuck, just how much did you cum in me? If this was your girlfriend, she would be knocked up for sure; shit, this might be enough to be risky even for me!" She reaches down to pat your cheek affectionately, "But see, that wasn't so hard was it, didn't it feel so nice just letting it all out? So now that you're nice and drained we..." your older sister trails off as she glances down at your still rock-hard erection, "Oh."

Lisa lets out an astonished giggle as she teases you, "Wow, just how badly do you want to fuck your sister?" Then she stops, and gives you a quizzical look, "Wait, is that it? Is that why you've been so moody around me all this time?" You growl angrily up at her, and she winces as she remembers your gag, once removed however, you fervently deny her claims, while a creeping horror fills you as a little voice in your head agrees with her. But no matter what lies your mouth might say, your cock was entirely truthful as it lets out another leak of precum, beyond eager to be inside of your sister once more. An awkward silence falls as you both stare at your engorged manhood, before looking at one another for a time. Lisa's face crumples as she sobbingly embraces you, holding you tight as ugly tears course down her face, "Oh, you silly idiot, you should have told me! You've spent all these years watching everyone else have their turn with your big sister, but never you! Fuck, I should have known you would be jealous! I'm so sorry for being such a failure of a big sister!" Tentatively, you delicately bring you arms around Lisa, torn between shoving her off of you, or accepting that she may very well be right. Were you so violently against any hint of sexuality because you felt that your sister had spurned your unnoticeable advances while growing up; was that why you loathed her, out of fury at being denied? Your doubts shrink as Lisa kisses you once more, the wetness from her tears anointing your cheeks as her tongue pushes deep into your mouth, sloppily making out with you before pulling back. She gives you a loving smile, "Don't worry, your big sister will take responsibility for this, I'll fix things I promise!"

Beaming, your older sister sits on your cock once more, but this time Lisa was intent on not stopping until you were fully satisfied. You both moan as your member pushes through the goopy remains of your last load, and you share a knowing look; this well and truly was incest now, and it felt so right. Your sibling holds your hands as she rides you, eschewing her more showy techniques for a more primal slamming; your wildly bucking hips would have ruined any complex movements. Semen sprays everywhere as your ferocious sex expels it from Lisa's pussy, making an absolute mess as it drizzles over your skin. Your sister groans, "Fuck, no wonder you were pumping the sheets full of precum every morning, it must have been torture for you to be so close to me yet unable to relieve yourself," she gives you a wicked grin, "But now you can pump your sister full every morning instead!" The perverse thought of fucking your own sister for the rest of your trip fills you with excitement, and you swiftly grasp her petite waist to hold her steady as you pound away at her sopping cunt. Lisa's eyes roll back as she lets you have your way with her, her pussy spasming in anticipation of your next load, her hands hurriedly putting her hair into a messy bun to get it out of her face. Grunting, you creampie your older sister once more, slathering her folds with thick semen as she climaxes from the sordid pleasure of getting pumped full of cum by her baby brother. Shuddering, the pair of you makeout as your cock softens, but it is quick to surge back into full rigidity as Lisa idly rocks back and forth atop you, "Again?" she asks with a perceptive smirk.

You pump between Lisa's supple thighs with virginal passion as your sister simply lays back and takes it. Her legs wrap tightly around your waist as her hands roam your back and chest, spurring you on as you slam deep inside of her, "Oh fuck yes baby," Lisa gasps "It's your turn now, you've watched everyone else take their turn with your big sister, but she's all yours now!" You kiss her fiercely in response, as you unceasingly plow a furrow in your own sibling, your balls drenched with your congealed sexual fluids. Lisa shudders as she climaxes once more, her folds greedily massaging your shaft as you continue to fuck through her orgasm. You bite and suckle upon her neck as she holds you close, urging you on, "God, don't stop little brother, just keep fucking me until your drained! I don't care how nasty you want it, your big sister will do anything to satisfy you, I promise!" You take her up on that, as you feel your next load churning through your balls you abruptly pull out of the warm confines of your sister's pussy, before hurriedly scooting forward to shove your leaking cock into her face. Lisa knows exactly what to do, and opens her mouth in invitation as locks eyes with you, nodding encouragingly as you furiously stroke the cum out of your cock. Groaning, you jizz on your sister's face, the same face that was plastered on billboards and advertisements around the world, was now getting painted with fat ropes of your semen. Lisa doesn't blink, even when your salty load splashes against her eye, lovingly staring up at you as you cover her million-dollar face with your seed.

Lisa stops you from retreating, and with affectionate care cleans your cock off with her mouth, diligently sucking the dregs of your load out of you; before simply sucking on you for the fun of it. You quiver as your older sister gives you your first blowjob, her tongue skillfully caressing the underside of your member, as her naughty lips wrap tightly around your shaft. The sensation left you giddy, and Lisa's eye's narrow with satisfaction as she notes your obvious pleasure as she slurps up and down your length. But like any boy, you wanted to go deeper, and your sister was more than happy to oblige you. You moan loudly as Lisa deepthroats you, holding onto her bobbing head for support as you struggle to stay upright; gasping her name as she skillfully works your next load out of you. The pressure becomes unbearable, and you nearly collapse as you fill your older sister's mouth with your cum, streamers of semen even spewing directly into her stomach as she takes your spasming cock to the hilt; her salacious tongue hard at work coaxing your balls. Lisa doesn't even bother to wipe off the jizz drying on her face after you finish clogging her mouth with sperm, she can tell how much it arouses you.

You would have thought you would be satisfied by all that, but your bulging erection said otherwise. Giggling, Lisa merrily allows you to bend her over, hoisting her ass into the air and arching and spreading her cheeks to reveal your sloppy seconds leaking out of her gaping lower lips. Perverse pride permeates through you at the sight of your sister's cunt crammed full of your seed, how often had you seen someone else's load drooling out of your sister? But now she was yours, you had placed your own claim on her pussy, and you were eager to continue doing so. You shiver with barely controlled excitement as you grab her surprisingly curvy hips, you realized now how much your sister's perky ass aroused you, your cock head already glistens with precum when you push into the sloppy mess inside of Lisa. Who smirks as she feels you enter her, she can feel how eager you were to fuck her from behind just from how you penetrated her, and she knows exactly what her little brother wants, "Mhmm that's it, I bet you've been waiting to fuck me doggy this whole time, every guy does," her smile grows smug as she feels your dick stiffen, "I just love showing it off, I'm sure all your friends were blasting fat loads to my ass all the time..." she abruptly twists backwards and lovingly touches your cheek, "But now it's your turn to give your sister a good pounding, so don't hold back, okay? Lisa blows you a kiss, and moments later you are fervently fucking your older sister as if your life depended on it, who obligingly curls back down into her sharp arch to better pleasure her little brother's cock. You plow Lisa's perky butt, her cheeks slapping loudly against your skin as you work out yet another urge that had festered in your heart for years; this time, Lisa's ass was yours. Lust burns through you as you jackhammer your slut of a sister, the sheer eroticism of finally fulfilling your darkest fantasies driving you to orgasm faster than you anticipated. Howling your sister's name, your balls exert themselves once more and douse your sibling's cunt with sperm, who squeals in delight as she revels in the sensation of being filled, "Fuck yes! Fill your big sister up, cum in me, breed me!"

It was that last phrase that had you thrusting away again even before you had finished recovering from your climax, gritting your teeth as you force your tiring cock to rise to the occasion once more. Lisa looks back at you in bemusement, curious as to your sudden second wind, until she realizes, "Oh... does breeding me excite you that much," she giggles in delight, "You dirty pervert, it isn't enough to just fuck your older sister, you want to impregnate me as well?" Your increased pace is all the answer she needs, and Lisa ponders it for a moment before giving you an enormous and degenerate smile, "Why not? If you manage to knock me up, I'll keep it, it's the least your big sister can do... wait did you just cum in me again? Lisa laughs as she feels your cock spasming inside of her, "Fuck, you really want to put a baby in my belly don't you? At this rate even an idol like me might get fertilized!" Perversely, you feel yourself getting hard once more, your older sister was right, the thought of knocking her up aroused you immeasurably; but she stops you before you can continue fucking her, "Hey! Let it settle in me, how is the sperm supposed to reach me if you keep fucking it out of me? Why don't we switch holes for a little bit," Lisa smirks as she feels your manhood become nearly as stiff as it had been at the start, "Yes baby brother, you can use my asshole as much as you like!" You groan as urgently mount your older sister's tight asshole, you fucking love your sister, Lalisa!

Lisa purrs contently as she strokes her younger brother's hair as he sleeps soundly upon her tender breasts, his semen drying inside both of her holes. The familiar ache of her over-used body soothes her, she hadn't expected her sibling to have as voracious a sexual appetite as her, but she had certainly enjoyed it. But as his big sister, she still had some work to do while her dear boy peacefully slumbered, so humming quietly to herself, she gets to work. First she informs her friends of her success, Jihyo is already enthusiastically hoping her egg gets fertilized, while Nayeon is frothing at the mouth with jealousy for such a spectacular deflowering. Next she uses her brother's phone to send his girlfriend some select clips from the recording she had made of their coupling (Her brother could be so oblivious sometimes, how did he not notice her phone pointing at them the entire time!), cheerfully informing her what happened as well as telling her that she expected at least five nieces and nephews to spoil rotten. An hour later, his phone pings, and she enjoys a minute-long video of the "pure and innocent" girl squirting wildly to the sight of her boyfriend fucking his sister; no doubt she would be getting pumped full of cum within an hour of the couple reuniting. Finally, Lisa muses upon the enormity of what she had just done, she had forced herself upon her own brother, and engaged in depravedly incestous sex with him, oh and there was a very slight chance she might be carrying his baby as well. She was sopping wet at the thought of doing it again and again for the next week.

Lisa was looking forward to not leaving their room for the rest of the trip...

#smut #kpop smut #blackpink smut #lisa smut #Lalisa smut #Lisa fanfic

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charliemwrites · 8 months

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Part 5 of Nikto’s Commandments

Content: Mentions of Past Torture/Injury, Declarations of Love, Codependency, Protective Behavior

Nikto is familiar with torture. So, so intimately familiar with it. When he knew nothing else, he knew pain. He knew flayed skin and cracked bone and burnt flesh. He knew screams tangled up in chipped teeth and pulpy tongue. Agony became a filter through which all the world’s color bled.

He didn’t know how sweet torture could be.

He didn’t know he could crave the blade of a kind word. That he could relish the bone-deep ache of a gentle touch. He longs to be drowned in your soap and burned on your skin, wishes every brush would scar as badly as acid. Somehow, he remains intact.

You are a torture he could languish in for eternity. Would gladly be hung with a braid of your hair.

But you, blessed thing, don’t even realize what you do to him. The exquisite suffering that’s remaking him. Or maybe if you do, you’re too merciful to take it from him.

“Nikto…” you croon. You’re flushed and giggly, all but in his lap. “Is this three or four?”

“Four.” He’s been counting, but he won’t stop you from having more.

You wanted to go out with the rest of the KorTac team you two have been sent with. Ever generous, you asked if he’d rather stay in, but Nikto just nudged you out the door and sunk into your shadow like always.

“One more?” you ask.

He grunts in agreement. If you wanted to stay out till sunrise, he would escort you over sunbeams.

Aksel stands to get the next round and you cuddle in against Nikto’s side again. Don’t seem to mind the Kevlar under his shirt, or the knife pressed against your thigh.

“You sure you don’t want to play another round?” Roze goads, smirking, as she shuffles the deck.

You grin, wide and pretty and so blindingly happy. “You just want to cheat me at cards.”

“I could never with your guard dog on duty,” she purrs.

You scrunch your nose this time. “He’s not.”

“A guard dog or on duty?”

“Either! Both!”

Nikto clicks his tongue and slides your half-finished water closer. You agreeably accept the distraction, dutifully sipping another quarter of it under his watchful gaze.

“I am just teasing,” Roze soothes when you set the glass down again. “Nikto just takes care of you. It is good.”

You hum, apparently pleased with her roundabout apology. “It is good.”

You thank Aksel as he sets another glass in front of you, wiping at the side with an already-soggy napkin.

“Courtesy of a man at the bar,” he adds, winking and pointing.

Nikto whips around instantly, makes cold, deadly eye contact with a normal weak unbroken stupid man at the bar. He shifts when he realizes that it’s not your attention he’s getting and awkwardly turns away.

“It’s not drugged, right?” you ask. When Nikto turns back, there’s a frown on your face. He clenches the hand farthest from you, creak of leather lost in the noisy bar.

“No, I kept a close eye,” Aksel assures. “He just tossed some cash down to ‘pay,’ that’s all.”

You snort, shrug. “Whatever.”

Nikto settles again as you continue watching the card game, seemingly content just to be in the company of others. You sip at your last drink of the night, cheering Aksel on as the underdog of the table. Nikto tucks you close and counts cards.

It’s not long before you make an uncomfortable noise and pat at Nikto’s thigh. “Restroom, please!”

He slides out of the booth and silently helps you after him, a shriveled but mending part of him endeared by the wobbly way you cling.

“Okay I think I’ve got it from here,” you assure him, patting his arm.

“You want company?” Roze asks, frowning.

“Only if you need to go too,” you reply, “but it’s right there. I’ll be okay.”

She hums and pushes another few peanuts into the center of the table with the rest of the “pot”. Nikto hesitates, but you point out the door, clearly within eyesight.

“It’ll only be a minute,” you promise, stretching up on your toes to kiss his cheek over the mask. You toddle off before he can do more than freeze.

The whole team is snickering, grinning, or shooting him knowing looks when he haltingly turns back. If he wouldn’t take their hands for it, he’s sure at least one of them would be patting him on the back. But they know better than to try to make conversation, especially without you present, and return to their game. (He thinks this is what you would call “social interaction” and it’s tolerable, for now.)

Nikto counts exactly sixty seconds before turning to watch the hallway to the bathroom. Just in time to see the man that bought you the drink stand and saunter that way. He doesn’t enter the men’s bathroom, only hovers at the edge of the hallway. Waiting.

Nikto stands and crosses the bar with a speed usually reserved for those who don’t know they’re dead yet.

The man sees him coming, wavers between pride and the smart choice. Survival instinct wins out to make the smart choice and he slinks off before Nikto is even within arm’s reach. Not a word is exchanged.

Thirteen seconds later, you stroll from the restroom and instantly catch sight of him.

“Miss me?” you tease, coming right to him.

He hums because you’ll realize he’s being honest if he says yes. But you’re a little too tipsy to do more than grab his hand as he leads you back to the table. Seem amused as he ushers you back into your safe spot in the interior.

Another blissful half hour passes before you lean into him, big eyes peering up through your lashes.

“Ready to go home?” you ask in slow, imperfect Russian.

He’s hasn��t touched a drop of alcohol and his head swims like he’s drunk. You make a surprised noise as he grabs your cheeks in one massive hand, gives a little squeeze.

“Again.”

You blink, a little cross-eyed from how he leans in. “Ready to go home?” you repeat, only slightly less stuttering this time.

It’s obscene how quickly he fills out his pants.

“Yes,” he responds in kind. Your eyes light up.

He tosses some money on the table to cover your drinks and then maneuvers you out. You happily follow along, fingers curled in the edge of his glove.

He bundles you into the separate car you insisted the two of you take, knowing he’s not one for socializing or public. Only goes to the driver’s side once you’re comfortable and buckled in.

“You have been learning Russian,” he asks. It comes out flat, but you know him well enough to just sense the inflection in his voice.

“A little bit,” you admit, beaming. “I’m not good at it. I haven’t had a lot of time to learn.”

He shakes his head. Where did you find the time? And how did he not notice sooner?

“Say something,” he commands, too fascinated to remember who he’s speaking to.

“Ummmmm oh! I love you, Nikto!”

You squeal as he hits the breaks and jerks the wheel, taking the car to the side of the road. Parks there and twists to look at you.

“Say again.”

“I love you, Nikto.”

He narrows his eyes. Leans in. “Do you know what you are saying?”

You must not. How could you of all blessed creatures say something so—

“Yes.” You tilt your head, brows furrowing. “Unless I’m pronouncing it wrong?”

“You are not.”

You are but not so badly that he doesn’t understand - on a surface level at least. He can’t fathom those words coming from your mouth. Directed at him.

His hands convulse on the steering wheel. Wanting to reach for you but unsure why. What he’ll do. He’d never hurt you, that’s the furthest thing from his mind, but he doesn’t trust himself with you either. Not right now.

And then you say something else.

A handful of sounds. A name he hasn’t heard in years. A name he barely remembers but jerks him like a leash. What he was before Nikto.

“I love you,” you repeat once more in English. “Didn’t you know that?”

On his best day words are difficult. Right now, he can’t fathom what combination of syllables would explain to you the jumbled chaos in his head.

That you can’t love him, because he is a Thing of blood and bone and agony. That even if you could love him, he would be undeserving of it. Your voice rings in his head, church bells for a broken soul.

“No,” is all he rasps out.

You make a sad face. He feels like the lowest scum.

Then you’re scrambling out of your seatbelt, out of your seat. Climbing over the center console and into his lap. He doesn’t even feel it when your knee clips his ribs or the toe of your shoe hits his thigh. It’s nothing compared to the warm lapful of you he’s got peering down at him now.

“You know how I always remind you that you’re a person?” you ask.

He hesitates, then jerks his head in a nod. You mirror him, face so serious.

“Well you’re not just a person, you’re my person,” you explain. As if it’s so simple as spelling it out. “And I love you.”

“I do not…”

You wait for him to finish, but he can’t. He just squeezes his hands into helpless fists, unable to let himself touch you.

“Don’t what?” you murmur softly. “Don’t deserve it? That’s not your choice. Don’t love me back? I don’t care. I don’t love you to get something in return. Don’t understand? You don’t have to. I just do. It wasn’t a choice I made.”

You gently tug the topmost layer of his face coverings aside, drop a kiss to the tiniest sliver of skin visible beneath his eye.

“You’re my person and I’m your person,” you finish.

“Is that… what love is?” his voice is barely more than a scraped whisper. What little he remembers of people who used the word “love” towards him in the past made it seem like the blackest curse.

“That’s what our love is,” you answer easily. “Or can be, I suppose. You’re not required to feel the same way.”

He doesn’t think he does; what he feels for you is beyond that. Beyond, he suspects, what you might even have a word for.

“Again.”

Your face breaks out into a huge smile, lighting up the dark interior of the car.

“I love you, Nikto.” You press your palm to his heart and breathe softly in awe when you feel how his heart trips over itself for you. “Will you teach me to say it right?”

He leans his head back against the seat to take in the whole of you. Warm and comfortable and unafraid. Safe. (His…)

“Da. Repeat after me.”

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Masterlist

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #nikto x reader #cod nikto #Nikto’s commandments #commandments au

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sorceresssundries · 4 months

Note

Imagine: post-game Gale and Tav out somewhere with some dude RELENTLESSLY hitting on Tav. Gale can take people hitting on tav, it happens all the time and he's not insecure in the slightest. But this guy is being obnoxious and obviously making tav uncomfortable. How does Gale react and also what if they fucked afterwards

You're unhinged and I respect and love you for it.

Here you go friend. Some pure, mindless smut for you!

Pairing: Gale x female Tav - NSFW

Warnings: SMUT!!!! Public sex, blow job, probably the smuttiest smut i've smutted thus far. You have been warned. This is not regency-esque euphemistic smut. Gang, this is straight up pornography.

Word Count: 1.7k

Gale could hardly believe the brazen audacity of the merchants. His shopping trip had started off pleasantly, with Tav swishing around the market stalls in all her bare-legged, off-shoulder glory, the hem of silk dress flirting with her knees and billowing as she moved. She was exquisite, obviously, and she knew exactly what she was doing. She always managed to bring home produce at far lower prices than he could ever haggle for. He enjoyed watching her play the minx, but he did not enjoy the merchants taking liberties.

Leaning against a nearby wall, pretending to read a book, he watched as she flitted between the stalls, appraising fruit and laughing with the sellers. They couldn’t help but stare at the constellations of freckles adorning her exposed shoulders and collarbones. Gale was focused solely on her—imagining her tanned, strong calves draped over his shoulders, his hand tight in the loose braid that swung across her back as he kissed the plush skin of her breasts. He thought pushing up her skirt and running his tongue all the way up the inside of her leg until..

His thoughts halted and he snapped his book shut as soon as he realised something was wrong. The squat, bearded merchant she had been bargaining with suddenly had his hand in the crook of her arm and he was leant in close enough for her to look uncomfortable. The way she was leant back and gently tugging herself away showed she was trying to politely remove herself, with little luck. Gale felt his fists ball at his side, he wouldn’t jump in yet, he knew she could handle herself…

Then with his other hand, the merchant reached forward to move a strand of hair away from her face. It made Gale see red.

In an instant, he was there. Hot with anger.

“Touch her again and there'll be naught left of you but a pitiful pile of dust upon scorched earth” Gale said quietly in the man’s ear, the grip on his arm a closing vice.

He put his arm round Tav’s waist and began to lead her away from the market and back to their home. He didn’t want to embarrass her by making a scene, and he knew better than anyone how capable she was of defending herself. But, for his own benefit, he felt he needed to intervene, before another person put their hands on his wife.

“Wouldn’t want her anyway, the slutty little..” the merchant murmured as they walked away. Gale turned sharply with palms crackling full of fury-hot weave. Before the necessary words could be spat from his lips, Tav pushed past him and with effortless strength punched the merchant so hard that blood splattered from his nose like burst fruit, and he crumpled into a heap on the floor.

“No one dare give him a healing potion.” She snapped loudly to the other merchants as he rolled in agony on the ground. “When I come back tomorrow, I want to see skin as bruised as his pathetic little ego.” The market was now quiet apart from a few whispers bouncing between the patrons. She grabbed her husband by his arm, the basket of shopping abandoned, and left quickly. Gale was suddenly very aware of how hard he was.

Just round the corner, barely any distance from where Tav’s display had taken place, she pulled them both into a dark and narrow alley, barely wide enough for two people to pass each other without turning sideways. The walls of the surrounding buildings, tall and oppressive, cast deep shadows that almost entirely blocked out the sunlight, but not completely.

Tav was pressed against him instantly, pinning him back against the cool bricks and running her hand slowly down his chest until she eventually rested her palm against the hard bulge in his trousers.

“The thrills of combat still do it for you then?” She purred against him, the scent of the sun and the sea-breeze settled and heavy on her exposed skin as he left tongued kisses on her shoulders, her throat, her jaw.

“Just you.” He said, breathless “Always you.”

As they tangled together, pushing against each other with such desperation that a passerby might mistake them for a single shadow, Gale realised they weren’t completely hidden. People still wandered past, busy with errands or chattering absently with friends. Gale could hear their voices clearly, which meant he and Tav would be heard too. And if anyone stopped to look closely enough, they would definitely see Gale of Waterdeep fucking his wife senseless against the brickwork.

“Gods.” His voice was cracked with lust. “Someone will hear us.”

“Well you’ll just have to be quiet when you come down my throat then, won’t you? my brave hero” Her golden eyes were lidded, and voice dripping with wanton desire.

Her words sparked him. His hands were suddenly all over her, pushing up her skirt and gripping the soft flesh of her backside, stroking up her spine until gripping the nape of her neck to hold her head still as he kissed her with wild urgency.

The sounds she made were beautiful, but risky. He had to put his hand over her mouth to keep her quiet and their dirty little tryst a secret. His eyes burned into hers as he kept his hand there, and her muscles stilled completely as he moved his other up her thigh and to where she was slick and desperate for him.

“No underwear, Mrs.Dekarios?” Gale tutted at her as he began to draw light, slow circles over her clit. All Tav could do was moan against his hand, and Gale could feel the spit from her mouth against his palm.

Tav was rarely quiet, in or out of the bedroom, and she was finding it very difficult not to cry out with peals of ecstasy under his touch. They had done this enough times now for him to make her come apart with barely any effort. He knew how she liked it slow and soft as he whispered words of encouragement in her ear. How she liked his hand on her throat, firm enough so he could feel her moans against his palm and soft enough for him to stroke her parted lips with the pad of his thumb. She liked it when his eyes burned into her, and all trace of his softness had blazed into rough, heated need.

“That’s it.” He said, quiet and forceful in the swirl of her ear “Don’t let them hear you” There was a lilt of playful amusement in his voice, a cockinesss which pushed Tav further towards her undoing. She couldn’t help but moan as his fingers increased their pressure slightly, now slick with her arousal.

She came in hot silence, him holding her steady as she bucked under his touch. He continued to stroke her through the waves of warm pleasure that crashed against his fingers. After she had settled, he kissed her slow and attentively. Mimicking what he would like to do against her warm cunt when he got her back home.

Tav had other ideas.

She dropped to her knees in front of him and frantically started to unbuckle his belt. “Tav” he groaned as she pulled down his trousers. “Maybe this isn’t…” Any thoughts of gentlemanlike manners disappeared into white oblivion as she licked hard along his erection.

“Gods” he groaned, his fingers tracing over her lips. "You look so good taking me like this”

Tav’s head spun at his words, her mind bubbling with white-hot thoughts of lust and debauchery.

She would do this quickly now, take him in desperation while her legs were still weak from coming against his fingers. And then when they got home she would take her time doing this all over again, letting him think she would do it the same way, at the same pace, but she would draw it out in the private sanctum of their home until his wrung-out voice echoed throughout the rafters of the tower. She would delight in pulling from him noises which even he had never heard himself make before. But for now, she would settle for whimpers and groans as his hand tightened in her hair and he spilled into her mouth.

The moans that left his chest were visceral. He loved to watch her like this, lips swollen as she moved him in and out of her mouth, the rose pink flash of lipstick smeared over her chin and his cock. Eyeliner smudged, tendrils of sweat-slick hair stuck to her neck. He could come just from looking at her. He knew that after this she would want to tidy herself up, but like fuck would he let her. He wanted to walk home with her on his arm, looking well-fucked and messy.

Tav could feel him trying to keep his hips still, so as not to push himself too far against the back of her throat, but she encouraged him forward by placing his hand in her hair so he could tangle his fingers in it as he fucked her mouth.

He had to bite down on his other hand as he came, but it still didn’t stop the sinful sounds that spilled from his lips as his hips stuttered and he fell apart completely.

They stayed there for a few moments, his head leant back against the wall and hers against his thigh. Both breathless and spent.

“Do you need to go back to the market, my love?” he panted, as he pulled her up and began to press soft, lazy kisses against anywhere he could reach. “I’d be happy to get into a fight with anyone else, man, woman or child, if this is the reaction it sparks.”

Tav laughed as they left their little hideaway in total disarray, smug in the subtlety of their tryst. They were completely unaware of just how many people had heard the sounds of Mr. and Mrs. Dekarios ravishing each other in public. Tomorrow, the market would be buzzing with gossip about the black-eyed merchant and the subsequent public escapades of the respectable wizards. But, fortunately, Gale and Tav would remain blissfully ignorant of it all. Tomorrow, they planned to spend the entire day in bed, making love and living off whatever food they could scrounge from their empty cupboards.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #gale dekarios #bg3 gale #gale fanfic

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stararch4ngelqueen · 11 months

Note

cute bath with jason, candles and bubbles and light music playing and he’s sitting behind you and giving you kisses as you just talk about eachothers days

—

Time Written - 10:50 p.m

—

“I saw somewhere that they sell these trays that hang on the tub, like hooking on the edges. You can use it to read your book inside. With a glass of wine or tea, or scotch too.”

Rough fingers along your back rolled any remaining knots in your muscles, calloused hands gently stroking along the junction of our shoulder and neck.

“Scotch?” Jason huffs in amusement. “C’mon, y’know I’m not a scotch guy.”

“Whiskey, bourbon. Whatever,” you giggle, leaning your head forward as you swipe along any stray wet hair, only to feel his fingers completely halt.

“You forgot my tastes??” Jason expressed with complete shock at this horrifying discovery. “Baby, I’m hurt.”

Any further giggling was unavoidable as you see his face; twisted into mock pain, his lips formed into a tragic quiver as he gives his version of puppy dog eyes.

“An’ here I was, so very very proud of myself to drive all across town to that lush store you like so much, All for the bath salts!” Vocally expressing his pain, he clutched his chest in one hand, dramatically swooping his damp curls back to dress his palm over his forehead.

“Oh my god, Jason!”

“And they weren’t even on sale!” Jason continues on, leaning his head back further with feigned agony. “I spent good money on my woman, an’ she forgets that I’m a bourbon man!”

“Jason stop it!” You turn yourself just a little more, both hands coming out of the milky waters to settle along his upper arms.

“I got you that bottle of Four Roses earlier, I know what my man loves.”

Jason smirks whilst withdrawing his hands from their prior positions. He can’t help but laugh a little himself, lowering one of his hands under water to rest along your hip.

“What I love is that pretty look on your face, Doll.” He pinches your chin with feather-like softness before kissing you.

Coming home to this everyday; you, was a gift.

Getting to spend every minute in your intoxicating presence. What drug or alcohol could be possibly infect himself with when his brain provided such ecstasy with one look at you?

The lights were dimmed, the water still clung to its toasty warmth. The milky waters seeping with sweet soap, pearlescent powders, crushed oats and herbal oils.

An exquisite tastes of both lavender and honey soothing elegance, bodies dripping in glittering gold.

In some cases, you didn’t wanna do anything sexual when Jason came home. This bath, for example, both of you were naked yes, but it was possible to not think such thoughts in a precarious state.

Your one and only was home safe and sound, You loved nothing more.

Jason was more than okay with that.

If you weren’t up to it, neither was he. Vice versa.

A perfect, consensual balance.

This was much better than a book, even better than a drink. The sleep he always got after these baths were heavenly, nearly slumbering like a baby each time.

“After the day I’ve had, I prefer this right here instead of a drink.” Jason re-swipes his soaking wet hair back along his head, growing slightly irritated from his dipping curls dripping onto his face.

“What a way with words, handsome.” You smile as you turn your body slightly, letting your upper half settle more comfortably against his. His hand settles along your back, running soothing circles against your glistening skin.

“Jason.”

“Hm?”

“If I did buy you that bath tray, would this mean you’d read to me in here?”

“Probably,” he replies, pondering over which book exactly. Also if he believes he could be comfortable enough with literature in the tub.

“Might as well do some skincare too,” you ponder over the idea, to Jason’s confusion.

“Like, some eye masks or something. Make it a spa day.”

Jason remained… intrigued, adamant. Only eye masks he’s seen you use were those glittery jelly ones you put under your eyes. He’s tried them once, per your request. They weren’t bad, but he didn’t understand the uses to this day.

“You’re just giving Dick more things to talk about.” Jason chuckles, his eyes closing as your hand readjusts his sopping wet, snowy curl out of his face.

“As if he needs to know what we do. This is our time, remember?”

“Mhm.” He leans close, pressing a kiss along your cheek before leaning just a little lower, leaving a softer peck underneath your ear.

“Our time.” He murmurs, feeling your head lean against his touches.

“The day I can dress you in a bright pink robe—“

“Babe no.” Oh boy. “C’mon—“

“-With feather lining and fuzzy slippers. You’d look adorable!” Your purposefully cheery accent had him groaning your name in false irritancy against your neck, rolling his eyes.

“There’s no deal you can make with me for that to happen, Princess.”

“I can be very persuasive, Mister Todd,” your tone drops from its cheerful tease into a more slow, much familiar tune he was well accustomed to.

His chest rumbles with amusement, teal eyes narrowing with interest in your statement. You’re really eager for him to do such? Now you piqued his interest.

“I’d like to see you try, pretty girl.”

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x fem!reader #dc jason todd #jason todd x y/n #my heart did flips #I liked this too much it’s too cute

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absolutebl · 6 months

Text

Top 10 Great BLs That Are REALLY hard to find (but worth tracking down)

You may want to go hunting anyway!

Seven Days

Seven Days: Monday-Thursday

Seven Days: Friday-Sunday

Japan 2015

Never doubt my ability to recommend this show. One of the best live action yaois ever made, with perfectly structured angst, fantastic characters and acting, and no problematic tropes (rare in Japanese BL). The leads have excellent chemistry although it’s low heat there’s still some really cute mutual kisses.

Cherry Magic AKA 30-sai made Dotei Da to Mahotsukai ni Nareru rashii

Japan 2020

The sweetest fluffiest magical realism BL, packaged as a pinning office romance, very low heat (practically chaste) but the cutest. It’s truly great.

Cherry Magic Thailand

Thai 2024

A soft charming warm hug of a show about crushes and mind reading and self worth, with no-fuss execution from a consummate team and an OG lead pair proving why they remain eternal and deserve to grow up. Look, here’s the thing, Cherry Magic is a great Thai BL in its own right not comparing it to any other iteration. But even when I do compare (and I've seen all the Cherries and read the manga) it still stands. I personally like it slightly better than the Japanese live action, but I think that’s because I just really like Thai BL and I LOVE TayNew. Also all the kissing was both present and better than any other iteration. As it should be from Thailand.

I Feel You Linger in the Air

Thai 2023

IFYLITA is an exquisite BL, from filming techniques to narrative framework (much like Until We Meet Again). Steeped in history and family drama it edges into lakorn (but no as much as To Sir With Love and with way less scenery chewing). This is an elegant and classy BL... from Thailand which normally doesn't even try for classy. The main couple (both as a pair and individuals) were excellent, particularly Bright (Yai) whose eye-work acting style is a personal favorite of mine. Pity about the ending. Oh it wasn’t that sad but it wasn’t good either. This show could easily have earned a 10/10 from me except that it fumbled the… erm… balls in the final quarter. Argh. Whatever.

All about the ecstasy and the agony here.

Restart After Come Back Home AKA Risutato wa tadaima no ato de

Japan 2020

Atmospheric study in rural Japan meets complex family dynamics built on a romance framework of city boy meets country boy, grumpy/sunshine. It’s beautiful and icy sweet. Slow moving in places but ultimately worth the patience, low heat, low angst, and stunning.

Given

Japan 2021

Boy joins band, falls in love with other boy. The singing is terrible, fast forward through that but with the possible exception of the hair styles, this BL could have been made in 2015 and no one would be surprised. As such, it wasn’t ground breaking, but it didn’t disappoint either.

Make a Wish

Thai 2023

A doctor who can see the dead strikes a bargain with a wish-granting irreverent tree angel - naturally they fall in love (from Sammon: Manner of Death & Triage). Stars Fluke Natouch opposite not-Ohm, but who tf cares because Fluke has chemistry with everybody. Once again the Thai afterlife is incredibly bureaucratic but I enjoyed the premise and the unfolding of the story (it’s not predictable but still satisfying and with nice little twist). I like that the doctor is just gay AF - fag hag bestie and all the swagger. The cast is excellent even if the comedic stylings are a bit overblown and tonally off. It had sad parts and did make me cry but is ultimately happy with a great sex scene, good smiley kisses, and all the agency. Definitely recommended.

2 Moons The Ambassador AKA 2 Moons 3

Thai 2022

A Thai pulp that felt like it came out 5 yrs prior, with many of the flaws inherent to that time and studio system, including manufactured angst and convoluted plot, but an ultimately sweet main couple that (as a pairing) feels a bit more modern and satisfying to watch than they started out. This will probably go down in history as one of the few BLs where I genuinely didn’t care about any of the side couples. All that said, I find this show oddly appealing and rewatchable and I have no excuses for that except, I enjoyed it probably more than it deserved. Nostalgia & d**k, it's what's for dinner.

I Want to See Only You AKA Kimi no Koto Dake Mite Itai

Japan 2022

This is a beautiful well acted piece of cinema, about two boys who are opposite personalities and grew up together. Gifted and serious Sakura pines after outgoing eccentric manic pixie dream boy, Yuma. It is very pretty and this is the kind of atmospheric elegantly performed BL that only really comes from Japan (complete with dead fish kisses - what you though Korea invented them? oh no). If you want something stylish, this is it.

Triage

Thai 2022

BL does Groundhog Day featuring a doctor stuck in a time loop who must save a poor little rich boy from death by seducing the stuffing out of him, then PLOT TWIST, poor little rich boy must do the same for the doctor! Unfortunately... stuffing keeps leaking. I thought the plot was engaging if a little redundant and occasionally exhausting. The pairs were all well done, low heat but with decent chemistry and the support characters were likable (or unlikable, as required). If anything, the romance arc detracted and distracted from the main plot, but that doesn't stop this from being a genuinely good show.

HONORABLE MENTION

Great Men Academy

Thai 2019

Bodyswap involving unicorns turning a teenage girl into a boy makes this questionable as a BL (because, ya know, gender). But the fact remains that James is killer in the lead, and I (who do not like bodyswap) loved this damn show. Look, there is actual plot, hotties at boarding school, "bully the one you love" trope, some weird VR shit, very bad CGI, and yes, the boys end up together... whether they boys or not, so to speak.

Some of these shows may appear on a smaller streaming service, like WeTV, or they may be on a legal platform in your territory. I hope it goes without saying you should check there first.

(source)

This list updated Spring 2024, not responsible for cool stuff that went missing (or was added to a platform) after that date.

It's it last in a series the rest of which are:

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withoutyouimsaskia · 6 months

Text

Sometimes It's Fated (Sandman Short Story Part 4)

GIF: Originally posted by @teenwolf-theoriginals

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

Summary: Reader Self-Insert. After restoring the Dreaming and locating the missing dreams and nightmares, Morpheus turns his attention to finding you, the human he believes fate has chosen for him. (Title inspired by Placebo's "This Picture".)

Warnings: Minors DNI. Dark!Morpheus. Soulmates. Angst. Obsessive and possessive behaviour. Tension. Threat. Dubious/non consent. Groping. Language. Kissing. Nudity. First time. AFAB receiving oral/manual sex. Fingering. Mentions of overstimulation.

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: Hello there my lovelies! I come bearing a new chapter and this time it is pure smut. It's probably the darkest, filthiest thing I have ever written so brace yourselves. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated. In other news, I watched All of Us Strangers on Friday and it broke me in half. Hope you are all doing well. All my love, Saskia xx

Sandman Masterlist

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

The first thing that registers upon returning to your physical body is the touch of Morpheus' hands and mouth.

Warmth blooms at every point of contact and counteracts the biting winter weather.

Both hands have gone under the hem of your shirt to explore the skin of your back. The top three buttons have been undone to give access to your throat. Morpheus nuzzles there, pressing possessive kisses to the sensitive skin.

Navigating through the lingering brain fog, you realise that this was the source of the ghostly grazes you had felt during your meeting with the Fates.

Even when your mind was disembodied from your physical form, he was still able to affect you.

The connection between your souls is strong.

His sense of curiosity is strong too as he creeps a hand round and upwards to cup the flesh of your left breast. Your mind fully snaps back into your body and you make a squeaking noise, overcome with the intimacy.

He removes the exploring hand and pulls back from the crook of your neck, speaking your name eagerly.

Gentle fingertips stroke from your temple to your jaw bone. The world undulates when you try to open your eyes, and you sway on the spot.

He takes the weight of your body until your strength returns. Your eyelids flutter as you try to blink away the excess moisture that has accumulated there.

"That's it, come back to me," he murmurs.

You see the ocean blue of his eyes first, and then pan out to take in his whole face. Once again, you are wonderstruck by his exquisite beauty. Have you ever seen a bone structure combination as exemplary? No. Absolutely not. No one ever has.

The angles are balanced perfectly with his pouty lips, all pink and swollen from use; the sight of them urge you to replicate the same activity with each passing second.

There is no chance allowed for Morpheus disrupts your objectification. "Did you gain some clarity on the situation?"

You pull your coat closer to protect your décolleté from the weather, and take time to thoroughly contemplate his inquiry. There was much to unpack and while you had no inclination to do so standing out in the winter-washed street, you believe that for now Morpheus at least deserves an abridged version.

"Yes. And no. I may have more questions than before I spoke to them..."

"I see." He swallows visibly, hinting at trepidation. "You need not tell me of the specifics of which you conversed. All I need to know is that they have not changed their minds. That you are still mine."

You are smiling reassuringly before he has even finished the sentence. Your intuition tells you it was agony for him the entire time you were gone and you cannot leave him lingering in that state any longer.

"I am yours," you say ardently as a blissful, expanding feeling blossoms in your chest. "My soulmate."

You brush your knuckles over his cheekbone and cup his face with the gentlest of touches. "My Morpheus."

Saying his name in front of him for the first time has a considerable effect on him. His pupils dilate, lending him a feline air and he groans lowly and quietly in the back of his throat. Hips then roll forwards to give further evidence to his arousal.

You reflect this lustfulness by putting both hands on the back of his neck to pull his face down to yours. He goes willingly, of course, laying claim to your lips like he is an addict and you his vice.

The previous kisses you had shared had been led by Morpheus. You had participated with enthusiasm but he was clearly the one conducting the order of events. Now it was a duet.

Your confidence is shown in your touches. The placement of your hands on his nape and the small of his back, gripping tightly to maintain his closeness. Peppering in open-mouthed kisses in an attempt to get him to open his mouth in return. You want to taste inside him with your own tongue.

He lets you.

You both moan as you trace the inside of his upper lip with your tongue. The taste is just like before; a heady and delicious mixture that blinkers and exposes you in equal parts. You open your mouth further, intending to go deeper when he suddenly delves into your mouth too.

You kiss and kiss and kiss, all the while becoming aware of a trembling heat just above your sternum that carves a path straight and true down to your core.

The hands that were at your sides disappear and the wind begins to pick up. There are gritty specks hitting your bare skin, but you are too overcome with pleasure to wonder why. Morpheus takes hold of your hands and squeezes tightly.

Your head begins to swirl. Is it due to a lack of oxygen? You breathe in through your nose. The adrift feeling persists. The grip Morpheus has on your hands is causing them to go numb.

There's a pressure in your ears similar to that created by the ascent of an aircraft. You feel it straining against your eardrums and spreading across your sinuses. All sound then disappears, as does the floor beneath your feet. Your heartbeat thuds frantically in the back of your throat, pulsating with red flashes behind your closed eyelids. You don't stop kissing him though. He is the only thing that has sense and stability in the disorientation.

The spinning ceases and the pressure fades as your feet find solid ground again. The chill factor has reduced to an ambient temperature. Morpheus extricates himself from your mouth slowly and unwillingly.

There's a sleepy dust-like substance in your eyelashes; you dislodge and wipe it away and open your eyes.

Your location has changed.

The puddle strewn pavements are now white marble. The stinging light emanating from the lamp post replaced by a peaceful mixture of moonlight and starlight through vast windows.

It is extremely familiar. You are trying to figure out why when your focus falls on the statues.

The niggling thought that you put on the back burner is suddenly set free from its cage.

The King of Dreams and Nightmares. That was what the Fates had called him.

You had visited this gallery as you slept and touched yourself in front of a ethereal man.

You vocalise the end of your train of thought as mortification clenches in your gut.

"You were in my dream last night."

"Yes." There's a tiny movement of his lips that suggests pride at your comprehension. "I've been in your dreams for many nights now."

"In the crowds, and that room?"

"Yes."

It all made sense now. It was him you had been waiting for in the blank room and after then, he was the one you had been able to feel watching you from afar. That was why he seemed so familiar. He'd been with you for weeks.

"I can't believe I did that in front of you."

The predatory gaze is back as he surveys your flustered form.

"Hmm," he purrs, "You were quite the spectacle."

"Did you make me do it?"

"I set up the parameters of the dream. Your actions within it were your own."

"I don't remember choosing," you comment in a small voice.

You feel his hands about your waist. "Perhaps you were guided by instinct, rather than conscious thought."

It sounds very plausible for instinct had undoubtedly been in the driver's seat since he touched you for the first time.

You decide to change the subject from your exhibitionism. "So this is your realm?"

"We are at the heart of it, within the palace. Few are able to come here when they sleep. Even fewer are permitted to see it with a cognisant mind."

You look down as a bashful blush stains your cheeks. It is truly moving that he let you into his inner most sanctum, even before he had divulged your connection.

A strong thumb and forefinger find purchase on your chin and tilt your head up so he can assess your countenance. "What are you thinking of?"

"I'm just... all of this. What's happened tonight, it's beyond anything I could -"

"Dream?" He offers with a quirked eyebrow.

You laugh. "I was going to say imagine, but dream works just as well."

He brings you in for another passionate kiss, one that goes from lips to earlobe to neck, designed to make your head loll back and knees go weak, and you do both with a sigh.

"I would like to take you to my chambers now," he whispers against your pulse point.

That delicious vibration in your sternum shifts up a gear and you let loose a faint groan in lieu of a reply.

He speaks your name.

The inflection of his voice as he says it is so beguiling that you would probably do anything he suggested.

You are nodding, hazily repeating the word yes a few times even though Morpheus hasn't technically asked you a question.

The pressure you felt before in your ears returns for the briefest of moments and in the time it takes for you to blink, your surroundings have changed once more.

The first thing you notice is the bed, the lone piece of furniture in the room. The frame is an ornately carved pale stone, it twists and turns with gorgeous fluidity. The silk sheets upon it are a stark contrast; black with an iridescent quality that looks like the wings of a corvid. Its presence carries a raft of expectations with it and sets forth a barrage of nervous energy. You ignore the bed for now and look to your soulmate who has moved a few steps away from you.

He looks correct here, you note with intrigue. It's not as if he was out of place outside the function hall, for he has a humanoid form, but the grandeur of this private place is casting him in a different light. Here, with the omniscient gaze, assured tilt of his chin, graceful poise; he looks like the King he is.

And through a funny quirk of fate, he is all yours.

Your chest begins to ache, you raise a hand to it and frown in confusion. It's like your soul is pining, calling out for help.

Morpheus is by your side in an instant.

"I need to touch your bare skin again."

You waste no time in permitting this, shrugging out of your coat and letting it fall onto the black marble floor. Next to be shed are your heeled boots and socks. The height difference between you is lengthened by a couple of inches as you relax the tendons in your feet. You're left in your underwear after you take off your button-up blouse and trousers.

Morpheus' lips part as he observes your body. His eyes dart up and down and you can see the hunger within the darkening irises. His long fingers skim liberally and indiscriminately across your skin, diligently taking away the pain and cataloguing the sensitivity of your body at the same time.

The fingers of his right hand then twitch and his all-black ensemble dissolves into nothing, leaving him completely naked.

Your flush must be fuchsia as you notice his size, and twitches that traverse the length. You look to your own pile of clothes that took you several minutes to remove, hoping that a change of focus will steady your stomach's ever burgeoning butterflies. "That was efficient."

"Once you are dressing in garments created in the Dreaming, I will be able to disrobe you just the same."

You're not entirely sure how you feel about that. It's risky yet also kind of sexy.

"As long as you don't ever do it in front of people by accident," you assert playfully.

"You need not worry, I would never do such a thing to taint your honour."

You nod and close the gap between you.

To say you are astounded by his nude form would be an understatement. Whispers of sinew cord through slender limbs and across his torso, and for each angular peak proffered by bone there is a counteracting swathe of soft, flawless skin that covers it.

You yearn to touch him.

Morpheus' stares are intense as you place your palm over his heart. He hums out a sound of pleasure at the warmth this new skin-on-skin contact has created.

He draws you closer and suddenly lifts you off the ground, knocking the breath out of your lungs. You feel safe in the strength he possesses yet you cling to him with all four limbs regardless, pressing against his bare chest. Having so much of his skin against yours is creating a heat that is close to burning in the most wonderful way.

He lays you onto the bed and watches you with unwavering focus.

"Are you going to perform for me again, or would you like me to take control?"

The notion of that kind of pleasure being administered by him causes your reply to be breathless, "Touch me again, please."

The mattress dips slowly as he gracefully joins you on the bed, straddling himself on top of you.

He starts with your face, caressing you with adoration. Next, pressing kisses to your neck and shoulders before reaching down your body. One hand fondles your breasts while the other cups between your legs. You sigh, relishing in the warmth and how slowly he is taking things.

Deft fingers then dip below the waistband of your underwear.

You jolt and moan, simultaneously thrilled and taken off guard.

"Good," he says with dark delight. "You respond well to me."

He teases at your entrance and you are all at once very overwhelmed.

"I look forward to seeing how you react when I push inside you."

It truly does sound like something you want him to do - you've longed for a physical relationship for years however there's a detail that you know your soulmate should be privy to before you try. How it will be received, you cannot begin to guess, but you need to be upfront.

"I've never been with anyone in that way," your words sounding even more vulnerable than you feel.

Morpheus stops his attentions immediately and for a handful of heartbeats, you are admonishing yourself for the bluntness of your admission.

He moves back up your body and his eyes find yours. His expression is gentle and devoid of judgement, the following sentence backing up what your optic nerves are perceiving.

"Then I will teach you."

He presses a single chaste kiss to your lips; an act that seals his promise. Your apprehension melts away. You run your hands through his hair as you bask in the sweetness of the moment. The Fates were right: Morpheus really is perfect for you.

"I am going to worship you now."

He's ridding you of your bra and underwear immediately after you consent. The second he sees you fully bared, his eyes turn black.

You wonder what you've just agreed to.

He kneels on the floor at the foot of the bed, grabs your ankles and pulls you towards him until your legs hang off the edge.

You've seen depictions of oral sex in media however you have always reasoned that they are likely to be unrealistic; fantasies created in controlled environments and you would be naïve to hope that it could be like that for you, when it happened. Until now. Morpheus is the expert in dreams after all. Maybe you are allowed to get your hopes up.

His lips tease your inner thighs as he settles himself closer and closer to your throbbing, wet core until you feel the tickling of his breath.

He observes you for a moment, parts your folds with a single finger, grasps your hips and then goes down on you like you are an enticing, delectable treat that must be devoured.

Your lips falls open as his own closes around your clit. The heat that is brought from this touch is an inferno. You moan, and look at him, at this otherworldly being smothering you so adeptly, and how his intense eyes dance with pleasure of their own. He is enjoying this. It makes you gush.

Morpheus, taking advantage of this, very quickly collects the slick on both his index fingers and reaches up to lubricate your hardened nipples with it.

You groan from this additional stimulation and throw your head back with abandon, getting a good view of the vaulted ceiling above you and the seemingly literal constellations that float glimmering and glowing in the rafters.

Soon you are writhing on the cool silk of the sheets and he is forced to resume holding your hips to keep you still.

He then switches to a two-fronted approach. Two fingers sink into your cunt, the thumb of the same hand curling up to press on your clit. It's quite the step - letting another person inside your most intimate place and his reverent groans at feeling your tightness envelop his digits shows that he acknowledges this too. All it takes is a few deep, well angled pumps and then you are granted a mind-shattering orgasm.

His hand presses into the softness of your lower abdomen and the ecstasy becomes ten fold. You repeatedly moan his name as vibrant colours explode behind your eyelids, like the green and purple phosphenes that form if you rub your eyes too hard.

"Was that to your satisfaction?" He asks once your body has gone limp.

You look at Morpheus through the pulsing haze of aftershocks; his cheek resting against your inner thigh as his skin gleams with the same divinely beautiful quality as the stars above you.

"It was more than that," you declare emotionally.

What he's just given you is beyond your highest hopes of what intimacy could be. You had let another person see you at your most vulnerable, and reaped the rewards of that trust. Now, you must show your devotion to him.

"Your turn."

He stands and shakes his head. "No."

You are crestfallen but catch on when he begins to spread pre-cum over the length of his erection.

"Oh, um, Morpheus, I'm sorry. I don't think I can take you right now."

The notion of any kind of touching so soon after climaxing would be the guarantor of pain.

He ignores you, his movements calculated as he adjusts your position; arranging you in the centre of the mattress and splaying your trembling legs.

"Morpheus. I appreciate that I'm inexperienced but I know my body. I can't -"

His tone is dangerous as he interrupts you, "You are my soulmate. You have been made for me and as such, you will be able to take me."

You sit up. "I want to do things for you too."

He climbs on top of you, takes your wrists in his long-fingered hands and leverages you back towards horizontal.

You still don't concede. "Morpheus, tell me what you want."

His voice rumbles with authority, "I want to fuck you without delay. Pour myself into you. Possess you. Merge with you and have us become one."

He ups the persuasive tactics, leaning in close so all you can see are dark eyelashes framing even darker eyes. The heat under your skin is stifling.

"This is the final stage in your awakening. Don't you want to know what will happen when it's done? Allow me to guide you there. Be your first and only, make you feel exquisite with my touch."

He places a palm onto your chest and smiles a twisted smile when a luscious shuddering in that spot above your sternum makes you whimper and squirm.

"Submit to fate," he whispers. "Let me tie our souls together."

He is so eloquent and compelling and he delivers the killer blow as he lines his thick, long cock up at your entrance.

"Will you surrender yourself to me, Y/N?"

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

Tag list: @herfantasyworldd @kpopgirlbtssvt @littleblackcatinwonderland @1950schick @lollipopsandlandmines

"In the middle of the night in my dreams, you should see the things we do. In the middle of the night in my dreams, I know I'm going to be with you so I take my time. Are you ready for it?"

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zablife · 1 month

Text

Long Distance

Johnny Davis x reader

Johnny Davis Masterlist

Summary: Johnny calls from the road to check in on you. He can tell from the sound of your voice, you're desperate for him so he decides to help you...but only if you're a very good girl.

A/N: Sorry for all the requests I have piling up in my inbox! I will get to them soon. This was giving me brain rot tho. 18+ MDNI, guided masturbation, use of the term "daddy"

The phone trills once, then twice as you scramble to reach it, knocking the heavy receiver from its cradle in your eagerness. "J-johnny?" you falter softly.

"Hey, babydoll," he hums. If he closes his eyes, he can almost picture you in a pastel nightgown, brushing your hair in front of the television set as you do every night.

"Waited for your call," you simper, despite your drooping eyelids. "I needed to hear your voice tonight."

"You waited for me, huh?" he asks, a smirk audible in his voice as he realizes the need present in your voice.

"Course I did," you coo back at him and he can envision that look in your doe eyes, large and glossy as you listen to his every word with pure adoration.

"That's right, cause you're my sweet girl. So good for me," he praises, knowing how wet that makes you.

"I am," you nod obediently as though he might be watching.

"You ready for me?" he asks, even though he knows the answer to the question before he asks it.

"Want you so much," you murmur, hips rocking against the sofa involuntarily, a vain attempt to gain some kind of friction.

"Oh, sweetheart...you don't sound so good," he can't help but tease, knowing you haven't had a release in over a week. "Tell daddy what's wrong?"

You want to touch, fingers sliding down your abdomen and stopping at the band of your underwear. However, you freeze as you remind yourself it isn't allowed when Johnny's not home. The more you try to talk yourself out of it, the worse the torture becomes. The fire burning beneath your skin simply won't abate so you decide to beg. "The tingles are too bad tonight," you whine pathetically. "Please let me touch, daddy."

Johnny hums for a moment as he considers it, relishing the power he holds and then his mind is made up. "Only if you listen to my voice very carefully, little one."

Your heart leaps at his permission, chin nodding against your chest vigorously before you've even heard his terms. "Yes, yes, yes," you pant, tracing your hand along the gusset of your panties in expectation. It draws a tell tale whimper from your lips which doesn't go unnoticed.

"You're breakin' the rules, darlin'," he warns in a low growl, making you gulp and jerk your hands from your body, head turning to see if he might be peeking through the curtains.

Then you hear a good natured chuckle rumble from his chest followed by honey coated words of praise, "Just joking, sugar, want my girl to feel good all the time. But you gotta let me show you how, okay?"

You sink back into the sofa with a sigh, eyelids half closed as Johnny gives you the okay to slide your panties from your legs.

"Pull your nightie up and let it sit high on your waist now," he instructs in a thick whisper. "Spread your legs so you feel that nice, cool breeze on your pussy....But don't touch her yet."

You pant into the receiver and hear him laugh at you. "Johnny, don't!" you scold him as your crimson nails dig into the cushions, head tossed back in agony.

"Sorry, angel," he corrects himself. "Can't help but imagine you spread wide, dripping on the couch cushions," he defends himself. "My lonely little baby making a mess just cause she misses her daddy."

You bite your lip, his filthy words making you warmer by the minute. "Pl-please," you whimper.

"Oh, angel..."Johnny breathes down the line and you can practically hear him palming himself to your frantic panting. "Go on and touch. Tell me how wet you are f'me."

You trill in exquisite delight as your hand slides between parted lips, your slick coating your eager fingertips. "So wet," you echo back to him.

"Wish I could have a taste'," he murmurs in appreciation and you can vaguely hear a smacking sound in the distance. "You go on and taste for daddy like a good girl, won't ya?" he asks with a deep sigh.

"Uh-huh," you slur out in promise.

"Slow now, leave a trail up that perfect body before you suck those fingers. Got two in your mouth now?" he asks.

"Mmmmm," you confirm, pursing your lips and licking your juices.

"You taste sweet or salty tonight?" he prods, wanting to know every detail.

"Sweet," you taunt, middle finger popping from your pouty lips audibly.

"Then you're ovulatin' darlin'. Gotta get back to ya soon," he grits out, the wet sounds on his end growing louder. The idea of breeding you always a turn on for him.

"Daddy?" you whine.

"What is it, honey? What you want?" he begs to know.

"I ache," you remind him.

"Gonna take care of that right now, sugar," he promises lowly. "Rub for me like you I taught ya."

Your hand slides to your clit, fingers tracing circles feverishly now that you've been given permission. A wanton moan escapes and Johnny knows you've complied.

"Feelin' good?" he asks.

"S-soo good," you slur as your back arches off the sofa to meet your own hand.

"I know, playin' with that pussy feels like heaven, don't it?" he reminisces to himself, thinking of your soft, warmth clutching his fingers and milking his cock. "Can make you feel drunk," he adds with a sigh.

You nod in agreement, fingers fumbling against your swollen bud in satisfaction until he adds soberly, "But that's why you gotta stop when you can't think straight. Stop and count to ten."

"Wh-what?" you mutter, feeling your pulse throb in your clit painfully the moment you cease movement.

"I said, hands off," he instructs sternly. "Start countin."

You nearly cry as you begin in slow uneven breaths, Johnny humming his approval and hushing the tears he knows are threatening to spill over your beautiful lashes.

When you come to the end, he soothes you, "Good girl, I know that was hard. Wish I could see that pretty pussy clenching for me, I do," he sympathizes in the softest voice you've ever heard. Yet somehow you still want to hit him, claw at him for keeping you from your release.

"Johnny, please..." you whimper. "N-need it," you beg.

"Smack it first," he answers. As your knuckles tighten against a cushion without verbal reply, he coaxes, "S'okay, little one, didn't say I was gonna ruin it, did I? You're gonna cum hard for me in a minute. Hang on, now."

And you know he wants to hear the sounds of your palm meeting your wetness, giving you just enough stimulation to keep you on edge. Brow furrowed as your hand raises in the air, you whine against the sting, his chuckle your only answer to the question if he's satisfied.

After a long pause he sighs deeply over the line, imagining the jaw dropping sight of your red, puffy lips. "Go on, slide your fingers in," he tells you breathlessly, wishing he could feel the heat against his own hand. "You deserve it, angel baby."

"Thank you, thank you," you mutter to him as you pump your digits into your throbbing cunt, needing something, anything to help you peak.

But it isn't enough and your frustrated grunts soon prove it. Johnny knows it before you can express the thought and he whispers a solution in your ear like a savior. "Hairbrush, darlin'. Use the handle to fuck yourself," he offers.

The relief is instant, reaching further than your small hand ever could and you're a whimpering mess, dropping the receiver from your shoulder before you realize you're cumming hard.

That doesn't matter to Johnny though. He's listening to every harmonious sound over the static filled line, spilling over his hand just as you seem to crest. "My perfect babydoll," he grunts in complete satisfaction.

When you recover, you find the phone and place it to your ear. "J-johnny?" you repeat much like the beginning of your conversation.

"Did daddy make it better, darlin'?" he asks with a smug grin on his face.

"So much better," you huff out, still experiencing aftershocks as your hands trace over trembling thighs.

"Sleep tight. I'm comin' home tomorrow and I want you well rested," he reminds you, thoughts of everything he wants to do to you in the forefront of his mind.

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

Tag List:

@potter-solomons

@mollybegger-blog

@gardens-light

@mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler

@buttercupsandboys

@dreamlandcreations

@kmc1989

@mayfieldss

@semperamans

@frnchgirls

@anqeliclust

@stvr-dust

@maisie-rebloging-blog

@filmtv2022

@leenieweenie12

@lyralu91

@alfiestreacle

@hecatemoon87

@darklydeliciousdesires

#the bikeriders #the bikeriders fanfiction #Johnny Davis x reader #Johnny Davis fanfiction #Johnny Davis x you #Johnny Davis #Tom Hardy

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pmamtraveller · 4 months

Text

ECSTASY OF SAINT TERESA | 1645-52 | by GIAN LORENZO BERNINI

The sculpture portrays SAINT TERESA in a state of divine ecstasy as she receives a vision from an angel, described in her autobiography as a seraph piercing her heart with a flaming arrow. BERNINI captures this moment with exquisite detail and dynamism.

The composition has a sense of movement and drama. SAINT TERESA reclines on a cloud, her body twisted and contorted in ecstasy. The angel hovers above her, poised to strike with the arrow of divine love. The theatricality of the scene draws the viewer into the moment of mystical rapture.

BERNINI excels in conveying intense emotion through his sculptural forms. SAINT TERESA'S face is a mix of ecstasy and agony, her eyes closed in blissful surrender. The angel's expression is one of divine intensity, as if channeling the power of heaven itself.

The sculpture is rich in intricate details, from the delicate folds of SAINT TERESA'S robes to the feathers of the angel's wings. BERNINI'S mastery of anatomy is evident in the naturalistic rendering of the human form, imbuing the figures with a sense of lifelike vitality.

The sculpture is laden with symbolic meaning, reflecting the spiritual themes of SAINT TERESA'S writings. The arrow piercing her heart symbolizes the divine love that consumes her soul, while the cloud represents the ethereal realm of heavenly visions.

The sculpture generated some controversy due to BERNINI'S artistic choices, such as portraying SAINT TERESA as younger and in a suggestive pose. However, it remains a significant work in art history, showcasing BERNINI'S mastery in fusing sculpture, architecture, and theatrical scenography into a single, captivating piece of art.

#ecstasy of saint teresa #gian lorenzo bernini #baroque style #baroque #baroque sculpture

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muiitoloko · 4 months

Text

Your husband, Your captor.

Summary: After all, you and even Turpin are trapped by his desires.

Pairing: Judge Turpin × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Cruelty, Smut and Dubious Consent.

Author's Notes: This is a story that was lost in my drafts. I never posted it because I didn't like it, but since I've been inactive for a few days, I decided to post it. I didn't proofread it, so there may be some spelling errors.

Turpin returns home after another grueling day at court, his thoughts weighed down by the responsibilities he carries and the desires he harbors. As his servants assist him in shedding his hat and coat, he dismisses Beadle with a terse nod before heading purposefully towards the locked bedroom.

With practiced precision, Turpin retrieves the key from his pocket and unlocks the door, his heart racing with anticipation at the scene that awaits him. There, bound and silenced on the bed, lies his exquisite wife, your wrists twitching in fear as you gazes at him through her restraints.

Turpin's gaze lingers on her vulnerable form, his eyes tracing the contours of her body and the tension in her exposed skin. Despite the coldness of the room, where snowflakes dance outside, a fervent heat of desire consumes him, fueled by the sight of her submissive surrender.

With deliberate slowness, he began to undress, his movements calculated to prolong the agony of anticipation. He shrugged off his jacket and vest, revealing the expanse of his chest and the taut muscles beneath his shirt. His fingers deftly unbuttoned his trousers, allowing them to fall to the floor with a soft thud as he stepped out of them with predatory grace.

Standing before your in nothing but his undergarments, Turpin exuded an aura of power and dominance that left his wife trembling with a mixture of fear and arousal. He prowled towards your like a predator stalking its prey, his gaze never leaving your as he closed the distance between them with purposeful strides.

Reaching out, Turpin traced a finger along the curve of his wife's jaw, relishing the way you flinched at his touch. "You've been a naughty girl, my dear," he purred, his voice dripping with malice. "But fear not, for I am here to teach you obedience."

With a swift motion, he ripped the gag from his wife's mouth, reveling in the way you gasped for breath as the cool air hit your flushed skin. "Please, Richard," You pleaded, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and desperation. "Have mercy on me. I'll do anything you ask, just please let me go."

But Turpin only laughed in response, the sound cold and devoid of warmth as he leaned in close to whisper in your ear. "Oh, my dear, you misunderstand," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "I have no intention of letting you go. You are mine to do with as I please, and tonight, I intend to show you just how much I enjoy having you at my mercy."

With that, Turpin grabbed his wife roughly by the hair, pulling your head back to expose your vulnerable neck to his hungry gaze. He leaned in to claim your lips in a bruising kiss, his tongue delving deep to taste your fear and submission as he reveled in the power he held over your.

As he explored your mouth with relentless fervor, Turpin's hands roamed over your body possessively, tracing every curve and contour with hungry reverence. He relished the feel of your soft skin beneath his fingers, the way you arched into his touch despite your protests, your body betraying your desire even as your mind resisted.

With a growl of need, Turpin tore himself away from his wife's lips, his eyes dark with desire as he gazed down at your with undisguised lust. "Prepare yourself, my dear," he commanded, his voice a low, rumbling growl that sent shivers down your spine. "Tonight, you will learn what it means to truly belong to me."

Turpin discarded his underwear and climbed on top of you, his naked body pressing against yours with relentless force. You begged your lord husband to let go of your wrists, tears streaming down your cheeks as the pain of being restrained for hours threatened to overwhelm you.

"Please, Richard," you pleaded, your voice raw with desperation. "I can't take it anymore. It hurts so much."

But Turpin paid no heed to your cries, his eyes fixed on your hot, well-trained pussy with predatory intensity. He teased you with his fingers, tormenting you with every touch as he reveled in your agony.

"You'll take whatever I give you, my dear," Turpin growled, his voice dripping with malice as he continued to torture you with his caresses. "You belong to me, body and soul, and tonight, I intend to claim every inch of you."

You instinctively tried to close your legs, but Turpin's wrath descended upon you, his hand hitting your thigh with brutal force. You screamed in pain as he grabbed your legs, forcibly pulling them apart with a force that bordered on cruelty, almost tearing you apart in his relentless pursuit of pleasure.

"Fuck, yes, that's it," Turpin hissed, his eyes gleaming with sadistic delight as he gazed down at your exposed body. "You look so fucking beautiful like this, all spread out for me. I could spend hours just admiring the way you squirm beneath me, begging for mercy that will never come."

With a wicked grin, Turpin lowered his head between your legs, his tongue tracing lazy circles around your sensitive folds. He relished the taste of your arousal, the way you quivered beneath him as he teased you with slow, deliberate strokes.

"You like that, don't you, my dear?" Turpin taunted, his voice a low, husky murmur that sent shivers down your spine. "You're such a filthy little whore, getting wet for your lord husband like this. But don't worry, I'll make sure you're properly taken care of."

As Turpin continued to torment you with his tongue, you could feel yourself teetering on the edge of oblivion, your body aching with need as it yearned for release. But Turpin had other plans in mind, his fingers dancing tantalizingly close to your throbbing clit as he denied you the satisfaction you craved.

"Please, Richard," you begged, your voice a desperate plea for mercy. "I need you, please, just let me come."

But Turpin only laughed in response, his dark eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure as he continued to toy with you mercilessly. "Not yet, my dear," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "You'll come when I say you can come, and not a moment sooner. Now, be a good little slut and hold still while I fuck you senseless."

As Turpin stood up and positioned himself between your legs, a glint of anger flashed in his eyes, adding an unsettling intensity to his usual demeanor. With a swift motion, he pulled one of your ankles over his shoulder, his grip firm and unyielding as he entered you with a force that bordered on brutality.

You gasped in surprise at the sudden intrusion, your body tensing instinctively as Turpin filled you completely. But there was no time for hesitation as he began to thrust into you with a relentless fervor, his movements rough and unyielding as he claimed you as his own.

And as he charged at you with dogged determination, his words filled the air with a chilling sense of authority. Your husband spoke of the cases he presided over in court, the fools he sentenced to hang, and the measures he took to keep the city free of undesirables.

"You see, my dear," Turpin growled, his voice dripping with malice as he continued to fuck you without mercy. "It's my duty to uphold the law and maintain order in this city. And if that means disposing of a few nuisances along the way, then so be it. They deserve whatever fate awaits them for defying my authority."

With each word, Turpin's anger seemed to intensify, his thrusts becoming more forceful and erratic as he vented his frustrations on your helpless body. You could feel the weight of his rage pressing down on you, threatening to crush you beneath its oppressive weight as he used you to satisfy his own twisted desires.

But even as Turpin ranted and raved, you couldn't help but feel a perverse thrill coursing through your veins. Despite the pain and humiliation of being used in such a manner, there was a part of you that reveled in the sheer power and dominance he exuded, the raw intensity of his passion igniting a fire within you that burned brighter with each passing moment.

As Turpin continued to fuck you with ruthless abandon, you found yourself moaning in a mixture of pleasure and pain, your cries mingling with his in a symphony of depravity. Each thrust sent shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through your body, building to an unbearable crescendo that threatened to consume you completely.

"Ohh" you groaned, your voice a desperate plea for more as Turpin drove you to the brink of ecstasy. "Fuck me, Richard. Fuck me hard, you filthy bastard."

As Turpin calmed above you, his relentless thrusts coming to a sudden halt, frustration gnawed at the edges of your consciousness. You were so close, teetering on the precipice of ecstasy, only to have it cruelly snatched away from you at the last moment.

"Damn you, Turpin," you spat, your voice laced with anger and desperation as you glared up at him with tear-filled eyes. "You cruel bastard!"

But before you could utter another word, the sting of his palm against your cheek silenced you, sending shockwaves of pain reverberating through your skull. You cried out in agony, the force of the blow leaving your head spinning as tears welled up in your eyes.

Turpin stood above you, his gaze dark with a mixture of awe and contempt as he surveyed the aftermath of his actions. It never ceased to amaze him how your defiant spirit persisted, no matter how hard he tried to break you, to bend you to his will.

"You insolent little bitch," Turpin growled, his voice dripping with disdain as he reached out to caress the cheek he had just struck. But you recoiled from his touch, turning your face away in a futile attempt to escape his cruel ministrations.

"Don't touch me, you bastard," you hissed, your voice trembling with anger and resentment. "Let me go. I've been tied up here all day, in the cold, without food or water. I'm fucking hungry!"

But Turpin only laughed in response, a cold, humorless sound that sent shivers down your spine. "Hungry, are you?" he taunted, his eyes gleaming with sadistic delight. "Well, my dear, hunger is a powerful motivator. Perhaps it will teach you to be more obedient in the future."

The bitterness of his words cut through you like a knife, leaving you feeling raw and exposed beneath his merciless gaze. This wasn't what you had imagined when you agreed to marry him, to become his wife and bear his children. You had thought he would be different, kinder, but now you saw the truth for what it was: Turpin was a cruel, heartless bastard, and you were nothing more than a possession to him.

"Turpin, please," you pleaded, your voice cracking with emotion as you struggled against your restraints. "Let me go. I'll do anything you ask, just please, let me go."

Turpin scoffed at the notion, a derisive sneer twisting his lips as he regarded you with contempt. "Let you go?" he repeated incredulously, his voice dripping with disdain. "And why would I do that, my dear, when I've spent thousands of pounds for you? Your father sold you to me, like a horse, and I paid a good price for you. I intend to make it worth every penny."

Your heart sank at his callous words, the weight of his cruelty pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. Was this all you were to him? An object to be bought and sold at his whim, a possession to be used and discarded as he pleased?

Tears welled up in your eyes as you struggled to comprehend the depth of his indifference, the realization of your own insignificance cutting through you like a knife. Was this what it meant to be married to Judge Turpin, to live your life at the mercy of a man who saw you as nothing more than a means to an end?

Turpin paid no heed to your silent anguish, his gaze fixed on you with a cold intensity that sent shivers down your spine. He seemed eager to hit you again, to inflict more pain upon you as punishment for your perceived transgressions.

But as he reached out to soothe the cheek he had just struck, his hand froze in midair, his gaze locked with yours in a silent battle of wills. There was something in your eyes, a glimmer of defiance amidst the tears, that gave him pause, causing him to reconsider his next move.

"What is it, my dear?" Turpin finally spoke, his voice low and measured as he searched your face for answers. "What do you want from me?"

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat threatening to choke you as you struggled to find the words to express the tumult of emotions raging within you. "I... I wanted to love you, Richard," you whispered, your voice trembling with vulnerability. "I wanted to believe that you were kind, loving, and intelligent. I built an idea of you in my mind, an idea where we would be happy together. But I didn't expect the truth to be so... painful."

Turpin's expression softened imperceptibly, a flicker of regret flashing in his dark eyes as he listened to your confession. For a moment, it seemed as though he might relent, might acknowledge the pain he had caused you and seek to make amends.

But then, as if on cue, his features hardened once more, his resolve strengthening as he fortified himself against the memories of past betrayals. "Women," he spat, his voice laced with bitterness. "Damned seducers who manipulate and use men for their own ends. I will never allow myself to fall for their charms again."

Your heart sank at his words, the crushing weight of his indifference pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. It was clear now that Turpin had no intention of changing, no desire to be the man you had hoped he would be.

"And what of my feelings, Richard?" you choked out, your voice trembling with anguish. "Do they mean nothing to you?"

Turpin's gaze hardened, his eyes blazing with a fierce intensity as he regarded you with cold detachment. "Your feelings are of no consequence to me, my dear," he declared, his voice devoid of emotion. "All I require from you is your submission, and rest assured, I will have it, whether you want it or not."

With that, Turpin went back to fucking you, his movements relentless and unforgiving as he drove himself deeper into your trembling body. You could feel the pressure building within you, the ache of unfulfilled desire threatening to consume you whole as he claimed you as his own once more.

With one hand pressed firmly against your mouth to stifle your cries, Turpin gripped your thigh with his other hand, pulling your leg around his waist to gain a better angle. His thrusts grew more urgent, more desperate, as he sought to quench the fire that burned within him, a fire fueled by his insatiable lust for you.

"Why did you have to be so good?" Turpin growled, his voice a low, guttural moan that sent shivers down your spine. "Why did you have to make me want you so much? You're nothing but a common whore, yet I can't seem to get enough of you."

You could feel the heat of his anger radiating off him in waves, mingling with the intoxicating scent of sweat and sex that hung heavy in the air. Despite the pain and humiliation of being used in such a manner, there was a part of you that reveled in the sheer power and dominance he exuded, the raw intensity of his passion igniting a fire within you that burned brighter with each passing moment.

"Why do you make me want you so much?" Turpin demanded, his voice thick with frustration as he continued to pound into you with relentless force. "Why can't you just be like the others, content to satisfy my needs without question? Why do you have to challenge me at every turn, defying me at every opportunity?"

But even as he ranted and raved, you could sense the underlying desperation in his voice, the desperate longing for something he could never truly possess. For all his power and authority, Judge Turpin was a man haunted by his own demons, trapped in a cycle of self-loathing and resentment that threatened to consume him whole.

As Turpin's thrusts grew more erratic, more desperate, you could feel yourself teetering on the brink of oblivion, your body wracked with pleasure as he drove you ever closer to the edge. And as he reached his own climax, his release washing over you in a tidal wave of ecstasy, you couldn't help but feel a sense of bittersweet satisfaction wash over you, a fleeting moment of connection amidst the chaos and despair.

Cumming deep inside you, Turpin collapsed on top of you, his head buried between your breasts as he listened to the rhythm of your heartbeat. In that moment, with your bodies entwined in a tangle of sweat and desperation, it was as if time stood still, the world falling away around you as you clung to each other in silent communion.

But even as you lay there, your breaths mingling in the stillness of the night, you knew that this moment was fleeting, a mere respite from the storm that raged within you both. Turpin may have sated his desires for now, but the demons that haunted him would always linger, lurking in the shadows, waiting to drag him back into the darkness from which he came.

And as he lay there, lost in his own thoughts, you couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the man who had become your husband, your captor, your tormentor. For in the end, Judge Turpin was just as much a prisoner of his own desires as you were, trapped in a cycle of pain and despair that neither of you could ever hope to escape.

#alan rickman #judge turpin #judge turpin x reader #sweeney todd #alan rickman x reader

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dark-and-kawaii · 8 months

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༺ 𝒮𝓉𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝑅𝑒𝓁𝒾𝑒𝒻 ༻

Hiromi Higuruma

🎀 Summary: You visit Hiromi’s office so he can relieve some stress.

🎀 Notes: @multi-fandom-imagine has me acting a damn fool

⋆˙⟡♡ NSFW - Choking - Desk Sex ♡⟡˙⋆

Hiromi wrapped his tie around your delicate neck, constricting your breathing as he thrust his cock deep inside your core. The rough fabric of his suit scraped against your exposed flesh, adding a tantalizing sensation to the overwhelming pleasure. Your fingertips desperately clawed at his desk, the pain from his tie and your breasts pushed against the wood only intensified the experience. As your oxygen supply diminished, your mind swirled with a heady mix of fear and pleasure as your tongue lolled out.

Struggling to form words, you managed to gasp out Hiromi's name, “Hi-Hiromi-“ a plea for mercy, but he remained relentless. His voice filled with dominance, “Not until you cum for me.” Hiromi demanded your submission like a docile pet. His hot breath tickling your earlobe, his lips and teeth teasing and tormenting you with every grunt. The scent of his cologne enveloped your senses, driving you to the brink of madness. His rigid shaft claimed every inch of you, stretching and filling you completely, the pleasure bordering on exquisite agony.

Hiromi’s thrusts became more forceful, driving his swollen cock deeper into your slickness with each movement causing the desk to creak beneath your weight. As Hiromi's lips trailed along the sensitive curve of your ear, his tongue flicking against your lobe, you moan his name.

The sensation of being both restrained and penetrated by him made you surrender completely to Hiromi's will. Your body quivering as you near your release. The raw power of his dominance pushing you closer and closer with each tug and thrust.

In this moment, nothing else mattered except pleasing your Hiromi. He deserved it, and you knew your body was always the perfect way for him to relieve some stress.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk hiromi #higuruma hiromi #hiromi x reader #hiromi higuruma #hiromi higuruma x reader #jjk smut #jjk higuruma #Higuruma

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once-delight · 3 months

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Imagine being a vampire movie buff *cough* Armand *cough cough* and watching a great movie in the twenties, being reminded of it decades later, only to discover that it’s completely lost to the world.

(Many movies from the silent film era are considered lost media, either going up in flames due to their volatile film stock, or people not bothering to preserve them.)

Early movies are a pretty unique art form in that so many of them are considered completely lost, with the only remains being studio stills and promotions. Some are not documented at all.

Imagine this specific vampiric agony, remembering the particular emotions an exquisitely acted movie scene invoked with you, how it said something about life and love, that you don’t have the artistic skills to expresss to someone else.

You desperately want someone else to understand, because that movie has become a part of yourself now (if we are on this site, we can relate to having media be foundational to the formation of our self.)

You try to explain it, but they don’t understand, because you don’t have the words. It must have been experienced. But it’s impossible for them to do so.

(You’re just an impression of an impression).

They don’t get the reference.

#armand #iwtv #interview with the vampire #the vampire armand #amc iwtv #vampire #vampire meta

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runningmunson · 2 years

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My Fierce Lady - Part 2

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader Word Count: 1.7k Summary: After the events of your attack, you felt helpless. You asked Aemond to teach you to fight so you can gain some control back into your life and finally feel brave. Part 2 of My Fierce Lady. Warnings: traumatized reader, mentions of previous attack, use of a sword, slight angst, fluff, soft Aemond

Masterlist

Agony. You were in agony. Everything had been so different since you were attacked and forced to take a man’s life. Anyone would change if it had happened to them, you believed. Aemond reminded you daily that you are strong and brave, that you and your children were still alive and breathing, and that the man was in the ground where he belonged because of you. Yet you still lived in fear every day, terrified that someone would strike again, but you wouldn’t be so lucky.

That’s not to say that your husband and his family didn't try to make you feel safe. Your personal guards had been doubled. You were seldom left alone. You wouldn't step into your chambers, so they allowed you to move rooms. They exhausted resources to find whoever plotted to attack the Targaryen household. However, their attempts were futile. They never found who did it, and no matter what they did, you never truly felt safe.

Nightmares often plagued you. Too many nights you dreamed of Maelehra being murdered. You soon followed, only to be woken screaming and crying in the arms of Aemond as he tried to calm you. Your stress and anxiety were so severe that the maester put you on bed rest until the birth of your son.

You thought things would be better after you brought your son, Rhaegar, into the world, basking in the joys of a newborn, a male heir for your husband. You were sorely mistaken. The maester chalked it up to melancholy as your body adjusted to a new state of motherhood. The royal family tried to keep it hidden. Everything was always kept in the family, never wanted to reveal their personal weaknesses to outsiders. But it was hard to ignore the whispers around the Red Keep with rumors of you going crazy and behaving worse than your sister-in-law, Helaena.

You spent a lot of time with Helaena in her chambers, doing needlework as your children played on the floor together with the nannies. Rhaegar was usually fast asleep in his cradle. You had a feeling your mother-in-law, the Queen, had something to do with your time spent behind closed doors, not that you minded too much. You dearly loved Helaena and preferred her company over the other ladies in court.

—

For once, you were having a good day. Your anxiety was at bay and manageable. The children were behaving excellently. You knew everyone was safe, and you finally settled in once you checked several times that there were two guards outside the door.

“That looks quite lovely, sister! You stitch our sigil far better than I could,” Helaena’s eyes were wide as she smiled brightly, complimenting your work. You were working on embroidering the Targaryen sigil on a new dress for Mae.

“That is very kind of you to say. Your spider looks exquisite,” you smiled back at her. You genuinely meant it. While you did not share the same affinity for insects, you were always enthusiastic about her interests and ready to learn.

“Thank you, it’s a zebra spider. We have these in our garden,” she replied, then returned to her work.

It was relatively quiet in the room, with an occasional sound coming from the children. All your focus was on the dress until your concentration was broken. The door opened without anyone knocking, and an unknown man stepped inside the room.

You immediately stood up, a scream slipped from your lips. It startled your son awake, and he started crying. Your heart was racing, and you felt as if you could be sick. No, you thought, this cannot be happening again. As quick as you stood, you backed into a corner. You sat down with your hands over your ears and eyes tightly squeezed shut.

Helaena shooed the man out of the room and told the nannies to remove the children. She slowly approached you, afraid to disturb you even more. You could see her mouth moving but heard no sound. The only thing you could hear was ringing. Tears welled up in your eyes. She turned to the guards and demanded they go get her brother at once.

Aemond made his way to his sister’s chambers in record time. “I am so sorry, Aemond. It was a new servant, he didn't knock first.”

“It’s fine, Helaena.” He looked at you, seeing you in a catatonic-like state. Your hands had not moved from their spot on your head, but your eyes were now wide open, blankly staring at the wall. It made him angry to see you as a shell of what you once were, no longer the carefree and lively woman he fell in love with. He turned to his sister, “May you give us some space please?”

Helaena left the room, and Aemond made his way to you. He crouched down, blocking your vision of the wall. Your eyes finally focused when you saw your husband in front of you and not another stranger coming to kill you. He reached up to take your hands off your face, noticing the scratch marks your nails left behind. With your hands in his, he gently kissed the back of both.

“I’m here now, love. I got you. You are safe. Nothing is going to hurt you,” he spoke in a soft, calming voice- one reserved for only you and your children. The words he spoke were familiar as he often said these like a mantra in the dark of your room after your nightmares. You threw yourself in his arms, catching him off guard as he almost fell. He steadied himself and pulled you in close, once more repeating those words.

When your heart was steady and mind clear, he pulled you up to the ground and led you to the comforts of your own chamber. As soon as the door was shut, you turned to him.

“I cannot do this any longer,” you said to him, voice cracking in desperation.

“Do what, my dear?” he questioned.

“Live in fear, no longer feeling safe in my own home. I wish to be free of this anguish! I want to feel as brave as you say I am. I want you to teach me how to fight,” you said to him. It was something you had thought about for some time but too afraid to address until now.

“I don’t know,” he said hesitantly.

You knew it was unbecoming of a lady such as yourself to fight, but you were at a complete loss at what to do. It wasn’t as if Aemond thought that of you though. He always believed you could do anything you wanted. He never tried to control you or put you in your place unlike the other men of the court. Fighting could be dangerous, and he just wanted to protect you.

“Please, Aemond. I need this. If you love me, you will grant me this wish,” you begged him, grabbing his hands and looking into his eye. You needed nothing more than to gain back some control of your life.

He nodded his head, “Then I will do just that, I promise you.”

—

Aemond led you to an empty room in the castle. You were adorned in pants and a tunic, your hair in a single braid falling down your back. He was finally going to teach you how to fight with a sword.

When you made your way into the room, he shut the door behind you for privacy. You noticed a few weapons were already laid on a table. There was a dummy filled with sand in the middle of the room as well.

“Now, today we will learn the basics of defense, just a simple thrust and slice. Let’s go pick you a sword,” he walked over to the table. and you followed. You knew how heavy swords could be, having handled Aemond’s sword once to see what it was like and almost dropped it in the process.

He handed you several, having you do a few mock swings to see which one felt best in your hands. You picked a lighter sword, the blade a typical silver color with a black and red hilt. The pommel housed a blue jewel. How fitting, you thought when you noticed it was similar in color to the sapphire where your husband’s eye once was.

When you were satisfied with your choice, you made your way to the middle of the room where Aemond was waiting. With the sword placed tightly in your hand, he led you into the proper stance. He used his leg to move your feet where he wanted them. His back found its way flush against yours. One arm wrapped around your waist to straighten you out. The other helped you hold your sword to the correct height, pointing to where you needed to strike. Whiffs of your scent flooded his nose as he held you close. You were disappointed when he pulled away.

“Alright, keep that stance. This should be an easy one. Draw your arm back and simply thrust it forward,” he said, his hands placed firmly behind your back. He was intensely watching your every move, making you a bit nervous. You drew back the sword and plunged it into the chest of the dummy. When you removed the sword, sand spilled on the ground.

“Good, you have just defended yourself. Now put yourself back into the same position, and I’ll show you how to slice,” he explained the movements once more and let you do your thing.

You stood the way he told you, doing a spin to gain momentum before slicing either side of the dummy. Once more, sand flowed from the cuts. Aemond started clapping. You turned to smile at him, finally starting to feel a small amount of control for the first time since your attack.

“My, oh my. Who knew the Gods blessed me with a wife who is a natural in the art of the sword,” he smiled, looking proud.

You laughed, “ Well, I have watched you practice in the courtyard often, my dear husband. Maybe I can be as good as you one day.”

“I’ll make a fighter out of you in no time, my fierce lady.”

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond x reader #hotd imagine #house of the dragon x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen fluff

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green-eyedfirework · 4 months

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Bruce is out of town, Tim’s with the Titans, and Gotham belongs to Nightwing for the night. He soars through familiar skies, breathes the familiar smog, and fights the all-too familiar foes.

It would be Ivy, on a night when there’s no one back at the Manor, no one to help him through the burning cold stealing over him. He pushes it down, manages to restrain Ivy, sees her taken away, and gets up to an isolated rooftop.

Icy prickles are flooding across his skin, an ache settling into his core, and his body is trembling. He should get to his motorcycle, or call the car, but—he collapses to his knees on the privacy of the rooftop, just for a moment. He’s done for the night, and no one is waiting for him, so he can just—take a moment. Breathe in through the pain, through the longing, a physical manifestation of an emotional need. Convince himself he can get through this alone.

When there’s a soft impact on the far side of the roof, he flings his head up, suddenly aware of the tears forming beneath the mask.

Orange and black, giant sword, mask with one eye.

Deathstroke.

Of fucking course. What else would make this night more perfect?

Slade is studying him, silently, and Dick should absolutely get off his knees, should stand up and make a quip. He can’t afford to be weak. Not in front of Deathstroke. He wills himself to stand as another tremor goes through him, but his body won’t respond.

The last time he saw Slade, Dick told him they were through; he couldn’t keep sleeping with someone who was willing to kill innocent people for money. Dick hated himself every time they were done, the afterglow ruined by the inescapable knowledge of who exactly he’d just let fuck him. Slade didn’t argue, didn’t try to defend himself, just steadily watched as Dick gathered up his things and left.

Dick hasn’t seen him since, not in six months, not until tonight. And now he’s here, while Dick is almost helpless. The wanting is—it’s consuming him, filling him with agony, and—

“Why are you here?” Dick bites out, wishing like hell he could get to his feet and make a show of strength, but keeping his voice almost-level takes every last bit of effort he has left.

“Finished a contract,” Slade says, and Dick closes his eyes for a heartbeat, because he knows that means someone died. While he was playing with Ivy, Deathstroke came into Gotham and someone died and—“Heard about your fight with Ivy.”

Heard about? Or engineered. A chill goes down his spine, dread settling into his stomach, distinct from the searing cold of the pollen. It’s not a coincidence that Deathstroke’s in Gotham when its usual protectors are away. This is the first time Dick has been isolated since he told Slade they couldn’t sleep together anymore.

“I handled it,” Dick says, as though it finishes the conversation, as though he isn’t suddenly aware that Slade is likely here to extract some kind of vengeance for Dick daring to judge him. And it’s not that Dick ever thought Slade was a good person, but he trusted Slade enough to be vulnerable with him, to be intimate and almost-soft, and—and he’s acutely aware that that trust is absolutely shattered. That Dick shattered that trust, and Slade has no reason to be merciful.

“Did you handle it?” Slade asks softly, and takes a step towards him. A spasm of longing, terrifyingly intense, goes through Dick, and he can’t stop the shudder.

If Slade gets near him—Dick can already feel how the heat from his body would drive away the cold, how the cessation of pain would be addictively sweet, how being close to another person would soothe the emotional void, and he can’t—this is Deathstroke, not his father or brother, not a teammate he can be vulnerable with.

“Yes,” Dick says, but his voice cracks and he shudders again. He’s abruptly aware he can’t get back to the Cave, unable to fight through this longing, this need, this exquisite desire-slash-pain, and he needs Slade to leave before Dick can’t fight anymore.

He trusted Slade before with his wants, but soothing the relentless, agonizing cold has become a need and while a rejection of a sexual escapade would have been easily shrugged off—if Dick dares to ask for help with this, and gets rejected—

And why wouldn’t Slade refuse to help him, unless Dick was willing to rekindle their old relationship.

It’s getting harder to think clearly, and Dick isn’t sure if it’s a higher dosage, or a new strain, or he’s just never gotten hit without a teammate, but it hurts, fuck, it hurts more than he can remember, and it’s all he can think about.

When Slade takes a step towards him, another spasm of longing runs through Dick and he spits out, “Stay away!” It’s hopeless, Slade won’t stop, doesn’t care, made sure Dick would eventually want this but, he can’t stop trying.

Slade does stop, on the other side of the rooftop, silently watching again. Dick closes his eyes behind his mask, needles sinking into his skin, one after another, each one a firebrand, and ice spreads further and further with every breath. The tips of his fingers have already gone numb. But he’s facing Slade, facing Deathstroke, only it’s not really facing him when Dick is trembling on his knees, looking up at someone who has a hundred reasons to want to hurt him.

“You don’t look too good, kid,” Slade says, and Dick would laugh, if doing so wouldn’t shatter him. He wishes he were going fully numb, but instead he has painful tingling throughout his body, rising and falling agony he can’t seem to push away, and his entire being is focused on the only way to get rid of this pain, standing on the other side of this rooftop.

“Go away,” Dick says, voice hoarse, desperately trying not to give Slade what he wants. ��All Dick wants is the warmth of another person, but Slade was never a cuddler on the best of days, and he’s not going to do so now, not without something in it for him. Getting Dick hit with pollen was a brilliant way to let Slade pretend at consent.

And Slade just stands there, a beacon of warmth, relaxation, a siren call to the absence of this searing, oversensitive agony, just a short walk away—but Dick can’t walk. He’s wavering on his knees, hands curled into fists on his side, and if he just leans—but he can’t fall further, he can’t.

This is Deathstroke the Terminator. Dick can’t rely on his goodwill, or trust him, or even let him—this man has more blood on his hands than any human alive, and the only reason he deigns to let Dick live is because Dick has pleased him in the past.

And Dick isn’t, he isn’t willing to give in, offer himself up again, not even for the promise of warmth and relief of the burning cold.

Slade isn’t leaving, but also isn’t saying anything, just standing there. Dick cannot see his expression behind the mask, and every breath is an eternity of loneliness yawning wide, ice stabbing deeper and deeper, sharp and burning, and Dick—

“Leave,” Dick tries one last time, his voice almost cracking, but—but it’s too late. His desperation is evident, there’s no way Slade’s leaving now. Dick curls his fists against loose gravel, trying to find some kind of anchor, but tiny rocks shift in his grip, and there’s nothing to hold. Nothing to clutch against the deep, slicing agony in his soul.

He’s alone. He’s so, so alone—the sickening thud of bodies hitting the ground, a grieving, furious growl—he’s alone, he’s alone and he can’t bear it, he’s curling up and screaming without a sound because no human being was ever intended to live like this, like loneliness is a physical sensation that’s crushing him under its weight.

He moves. Forward, though he hates himself, though he tries with all his might to stop it. Forward, in the direction Slade is, in the direction warmth is, knowing exactly what it will mean for him. Every fiber of his body is screaming at him to move faster and his mind is shrieking at him to stop, now, stop.

Dick thinks he can hear Slade saying something, but it’s just ringing, fading in and out, and he only stops when he sees boots in his blurred vision. He can’t get off the ground, can’t even try, and he nearly collapses back as he cranes his neck to look up at the smear of orange and black.

He’s gasping for breath, heavy and shallow, his skin feels like it’s being peeled off in sections, there is ice at the very center of his being, and he will do anything to feel warm.

He raises a violently shaking hand, and manages to get it high enough to land on Slade’s thigh, curling against his belt.

Slade shifts, like he’s going to step back, and Dick leans forward to half-collapse against his leg, forcing out a desperate, “Please.”

Even that touch, through several layers of kevlar, feels like brushes of flames, and Dick has no energy left. He’s trembling like he’s been dunked into Gotham Bay in the middle of January, and if Slade walks away, Dick won’t be able to lift his head, much less get off the roof.

He should’ve gotten back to the Cave immediately, no other pollen has hit this fast and this hard, and Slade can surely see the tears on his face now. Dick squeezes his eyes shut and waits.

He wants—he needs to be closer, but he doesn’t have the strength, a five year old could break the weak grip he has on Slade’s belt. Slade moves, and there’s more ringing, the world tilting oddly around him, and it takes him way too long to realize that Slade’s crouched down, the orange-and-black mask at eye level.

The hands on his shoulders feel like firebrands, and Dick can’t stop himself from leaning in.

“Kid,” Slade says, his tone flat like it’s not the first time he’s said it. “You need to call the Bats.” Dick almost wants to laugh, because does Slade think he would be shivering alone on this rooftop, at Slade’s mercy, if his family was in Gotham? “I’m not leaving you alone like this.”

One part of Dick quails. The other part rejoices, because if Slade lifts his hands, Dick will start screaming.

“They’re n-not in t-town,” Dick admits, shivering. Slade curses. Dick is torn between begging Slade to stay and pleading for him to leave.

If Slade leaves, Dick will drown in agonizing loneliness, wracked by oversensitivity and a burning chill.

If Slade stays, Dick is at the mercy of the world’s deadliest mercenary, helpless and vulnerable.

Slade solves this dilemma by straightening, and yanking Dick up with him. Dick gasps at the dull blast of heat as Slade hoists him up, holding him in place with one arm around his waist before Dick does his job for him and practically plasters himself to Slade, locking his arms around Slade’s neck and hugging him like Dick is a koala.

The stinging is paradoxically worse and better—like the ice needles are melting, but slowly. The heat isn’t quite enough, not with the Nightwing suit and Deathstroke armor in the way, but Dick can’t let go, it feels like his arms have been glued in place as he tucks his face next to the mask.

“Where’s your closest safehouse?” Slade asks, and Dick doesn’t even hesitate before answering.

Something in the back of his mind is shrieking. Is begging to take over to stop him, to stop this—but the pollen has firm control, a torture designed specifically to attack Dick.

He can’t let go of Slade.

He’ll do anything for Slade to not let go of him.

And dread sits heavy in his stomach.

#my snippets #sladick #cuddle pollen

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