#Burning in the bosom | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bunnylovesani · 5 months

Text

An Arrangement

Summary: You’re a princess taken from your home planet and forced to marry Darth Vader. Turns out life on the Death Star isn’t as bad as everyone makes out. Based on the prompt shared with @luminoustarlight !

Content warnings: p in v sex, degradation, sub dynamics, begging, some violence, slow burn smut

WC: 9.3k

You stare out the grand palatial window in the coronation room, passively observing the flames swallowing the city of your home planet Onderon. Unintelligible screams flood the background, soon mercilessly silenced by the thuds and cracks of brusquely operated laser guns.

So this is how you were to meet your end: powerless at the mercy of the imperial army. You’d been trained for such a scenario before and you always carried a vial of poison in the event of capture; you’d rather die than be made to serve the Empire’s twisted interests.

“Princess, you need to take cover, follow my men into the vault below!” Your faithful attendant, Silas called out in panic.

“No, Silas. I will not cower in the basement waiting for them to breach our walls. I will remain here and eagerly await them.”

“But Your Grace-!”

“Enough.” You bark back. “It’s over. You have been discharged from duty, run while you still can. Thank you for all your years of service, I pray that our paths might cross again in another life.” You turn from him, tears flowing down your stiffeningly cold cheeks.

“May the Maker keep and protect you, Princess. You are our only hope.” He replies solemnly, before fleeing through the stony back passage of the palace.

You chuckle mirthlessly at the futility of his words and reach into your bosom where the corset of your gown has a sewn-in compartment. You extract the compact glass ampule of viper venom, so toxic that one drop is enough to send you into an eternal sleep, and fiddle with the intricate bottle for a few moments. With a heavy sigh, you tuck it under your sleeve; you decided you wanted to gaze into the eyes of your captors before you bid farewell to life.

With a resounding crash, the barricaded gate before you falls and the imperial army- donning armour plastered in dust and foreign blood- swarm into the great hall of the palace. You force the knot in your throat down with a gulp and turn on your heel to face the brutes responsible for the massacre of your people.

“Ah Princess, excellent. We thought you’d be grovelling underground with your father but you’ve just made our job a whole lot easier.” A masked figure that you presume is the Commander of the battalion addresses you. “Grab her. But keep her alive, she’s got a special purpose to fulfil.”

Hearing the ominous plans they have in store for you, you rush to reach for the poison in your sleeve but are hindered by the stampede of soldiers hurtling at you, slapping the vial out of your hand and shattering it all over the nitid marble floor.

‘Ah, ah, ah. Don’t even think about it.” The unnaturally deep voice of the commander booms. “You’ve been specially requested at the behest of the Emperor.” Dread consumes you as you’re roughly cuffed and dragged out of the safety of your childhood home. The soldiers marching comes to a sudden halt and you’re made to turn around and stare at the palace, a deadly silence hanging in the air.

“Burn it.”

Triggered by the commander’s words, a roaring blaze fulminates, the building being crushed in an instant by the force of the explosion. All you can see is the reflection of smouldering flickers through the thick veil of tears filling your eyes.

The commander smugly trudges over to you, sharply inhaling. “Ah, there’s nothing better than the smell of a coward’s smouldering corpse.” He hisses, words dripping with venom. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

Your heart burned at the injustice, at the innocent civilians decimated- but you couldn’t fool yourself into pretending that scorn extended to your dearly departed father.

Refusing to reply to his provocation with anything other than an expectorated glob of spit aimed at his helmet, he takes the barrel of his gun and pummels it with brute force against your temple. You’re instantly rendered unconscious and your limp body is packed into the nearest starfighter, chained up and ready to make the journey from Onderon to the Death Star.

The first thing you do as you’re rudely awoken is cradle your aching head- a wave of nausea overtaking you and the electric pain behind your eyes knocking the air out of your lungs.

“Rise ’n shine, Onderon whore.” One of the soldiers grabbing you by the elbow spat and you stumbled to your feet like a newborn foal. After being dragged through a fortified steel tunnel, you were harshly thrown to the floor in a cold control room before two cloaked men, one of whom wore black combat boots- no doubt robust and heavy enough to crack open a skull. The light in the battle station glowed painfully bright and you lifted your head as best you could to observe the squabbling figures through squinted eyes.

“Here she is, my young Lord. I think she’ll do nicely, yes?” The ominously raspy voice croaked and you knew at once it was none other than Emperor Sheev Palpatine.

“She’s shivering.” The monotonous voice of the other cloaked figure stated callously and only then did you notice how your body was trembling- whether it was from the cold or the fear, you weren’t sure.

“You’ll have plenty of opportunity to warm her up on your wedding night.” He cackles wickedly but is met with silence from the man opposite him. The last thing you remember before it all went black was the light reflecting off of the quiet man’s helmet, and wondering what might be lurking underneath.

“Tskk poor thing, look at this cut on your head.” You flutter your eyes open to see a woman in a billowed white cloak tutting and fussing over you. “Good morning, princess.”

“Who are you?” You scowl, trying to get up and immediately being knocked back down by the overwhelming pain.

“Whoa, easy now! Nice ’n slow.” The woman puts her arm around your waist and helps you to sit up. “I’m Sabe, a royal handmaiden. Your handmaiden, to be exact.”

“Where am I?” You croak, uncertain you wanted to know.

“You’re on the Death Star, ma’am.”

Bile rises in your throat at the realisation that none of it was a dream- your recollection of the last 24 hours starts flooding in and your chest seizes in panic. The fire, the cloaked men, the people in the vault.

“You’re all right, just breathe. No harm is going to come to you. He’s made sure of that.” Sabe spouts and your head snaps at her.

“He?”

“Oh yes, Lord Vader gave orders for your protection. Under penalty of death. If you ask me, he just needs a woman’s touch to soften him up and he’d finally succeed in shaking that leech of an emperor off. Suppose that’s where you come in!”

“Me?” You screech, wondering when you’d say something not in the form of a question.

“Oh, you poor thing, you don’t know…the Emperor is arranging a wedding between his young protegee and a princess from a seized planet. The princess being you, if that’s not clear.” She continued chattering incessantly.

“Yes, I got that.” You snap. “And when is this supposed union meant to be taking place?”

“Tonight.”

You choose to remain quiet, rather than parroting back her last word in the form of yet another question.

After your handmaiden assists in bathing and dressing you in clean robes, you still can’t seem to escape the dull throbbing of the headache that permeates every cell of your body, leaving you in persistent agony. You beg Sabe to find something to help, knowing that you yourself weren’t allowed to leave the confines of the east wing. Stepping out onto the enclosed observatory space by your chambers, you stare out into the stars surrounding the vessel. You wished you could break beyond the thick glass enclave and just glide away, joining the stars and freeing yourself from the pain.

“Who hurt you?” A raspy voice questions and you turn around to the sight of Lord Vader, enveloped in his armour and mask.

“Uh, whoever the commander of the battalion was.” You reply, startled.

“He will be dealt with. Now come here.” He reaches his gloved hand out, signalling for you to grab it. With a great deal of uncertainty, you approached him, timidly giving him your hand. He takes it into his palm and holds it firmly to his chest. As if some force had siphoned the contusions and swelling out of you, you felt your agony slowly subside- until there was nothing at all in its wake.

“H-how did you do that?” You took a step back from him, holding your fingers up to your temple in disbelief. You’d heard of force healing before but assumed it was either a myth or a nearly lost practice only wielded by the most masterly of Jedi.

“Go back to your chambers and rest. You have a long ordeal ahead of you.” He leaves your question unanswered and marches out of the observatory as quickly as he entered it.

You’re compelled to follow his commands so you retreat to your chambers, forcing yourself to drink the healing tea Sabe concocted after having decided it was easier than explaining the bizarre experience you’d had. That was the dark Sith Lord that struck terror into the hearts of everyone who faced him? Ruthless, soulless, devoid of all human compassion- and channelling force healing to ease your headache? You spent all afternoon writhing in confusion, all the way up until a neatly packaged box was left on the doorstep of your assigned room. Upon closer inspection, the box contained an intricate white lace dress, paired with a beaded, scallop hemmed headpiece. A wedding outfit.

Standing at the forefront of the cold metallic arena, you twiddled with the sleeves on your dress- the material itching terribly and making your skin crawl. In a way, you were glad to have something occupy your mind beyond the impending prospect of marrying a Sith brute. You wondered why he wore that clunky helmet- is he so hideously deformed he has to hide behind it lest people faint at the sight?

A frightened-looking man you can only assume is the officiator of this sham of a wedding is escorted through the heavily guarded gates and takes his place before you, not daring to make eye contact. Your body fills with dread at the familiar sound of heavy boots dragging along the steel plates of the floor. He doesn’t spare you a passing glance for even a moment, despite your stubborn resolution to face him for the entirety of the ceremony- you wanted to look deep into the supposedly merciless eyes of your new husband. There aren’t any vows, there’s no exchange of rings, no kiss to celebrate the union- just some legal jargon and a couple of witnesses. Although you can’t see him, you can feel Palpatine’s snake eyes burning into you, no doubt observing from another room to ensure his mysterious plan came to fruition.

“Follow me.” A stormtrooper orders you and begins to head back in the direction of your chambers. Confused, you allow him to escort you out of the hall as you see a cloaked figure approach Lord Vader out of the corner of your eye. You just about hear the Emperor’s gravelly voice hiss out the word “consummate” before the doors shut behind you and you’re carried away to the bedroom. For some reason, the thought of sex hadn’t crossed your mind- you assumed villains like him had interests that surpassed such blunt mortal affairs - but now standing in front of your 4-poster bed, waiting for the sound of his heavy footsteps again, reality sunk in. You swallowed the thick lump in your throat and lay on the bed, removing the first layer of your dress and remaining in a white negligee. “Just lie back and think of Onderon.” You thought.

Your whole body tensed as you observed him enter your joint chambers, completely walking past you and going to the connecting bathroom, door left ajar.

“I’m ready, Lord Vader.” You stiffly announce, hoping to get it over with as soon as possible.

Hearing your words, he peers out of the doorway and although you can’t see his face, his body language seems perplexed.

“What are you doing?” He remarks accusingly.

“I-I’m…waiting for you to consummate our marriage. Like Palpatine wishes.” He scoffs at your comment- laughs even- and goes back into the bathroom.

“I will do nothing of the sort.” You hear him say.

Sitting up on the bed and dragging the covers over your exposed body, you’re bewildered.

“Oh, c-can Sith Lords not…?” You stutter, searching for an explanation.

“I assure you I’m perfectly capable.” He snaps back. “I just have no desire for the task.”

Although relief floods your body, you feel slightly offended at the presumption that lovemaking with you should be a task.

Just then, you hear a steamy hissing sound, followed by a loud thud. The figure emerges, back facing you without his layers of armour- donning a simple black shirt and black trousers. He wanders over to the window at the far end of the room, staring out into space.

“I’m sorry about your father.” He grunts after a while and you finally hear his voice- free from robotic static, with no menacing growl - just him, and it sounds beautiful.

“Don’t be.” You say sincerely, fixated on the back of his head. You notice he has dark blonde curls, gathering in tufts at the nape of his neck. “Come on, turn around.” You think, bracing yourself for what you might find.

“Alright, if you insist.” He remarks and you scowl in confusion- you didn’t say that out loud, did you?

He pivots round to face you and you feel as though someone has knocked the air from your lungs: he glares at you with mesmerising cobalt-blue eyes, embellished by abundantly thick lashes and even thicker eyebrows sitting atop his handsomely chiselled face. His cheekbones stand at attention, enhanced by his sculpted jawline, which works in perfect harmony with the rest of his body- even his collarbones are perfect. He’s full of sprightly vigour, he’s young even. You are floored and contemplate how anyone could hide such a face away in that clunky helmet.

“Not what you were expecting, huh?” He speaks, sensing the utter shock his appearance has inflicted on you.

“You…you’re-” You stutter.

“Not hideously deformed?”

“-beautiful.”

He raises his bushy eyebrows disapprovingly and you scold yourself for being so forthright. He may be devilishly handsome, but that doesn’t mean you can swoon over him. He’s a monster, remember? Sure, he has the most seductive pair of lips you’d ever seen on a man - all plump and the perfect shade of pink- and sure, he’s sparked a desire within you that you don’t think you’d ever felt before but…where were you going with this?

“I’m going to sleep in the adjoining room, you can take my chambers.” You’re snapped out of your dreamy haze by his velvety voice as he begins to walk away.

“Wait! Y-you don’t have to, I’m sure the bed is uncomfortable over there.”

“No, it’s perfectly fine.” He continues marching away.

“Wait! The bed here is more than big enough for the both of us, we wouldn’t even touch.” You stumble over your words, melting under the scrutiny of his gaze.

“Do you want me to sleep with you, Princess?” His movement comes to a halt and you’re rendered speechless. “Because that really would be something. Captured and brutalised after all that you hold dear is set alight, forced to marry a servant of evil- and then you request his company in your bed? That would be deranged. You’re not deranged now, are you Princess?”

Your mouth goes dry at the snarky way in which he’s talking to you- you admit it sounds mad out loud but the situation is more complicated than he thinks.

“N-no.” You mutter, barely above a whisper.

“Good, I wouldn’t want to find out I’ve married damaged goods.” He remarks impertinently. “I’m retiring for the evening- and I am not to be disturbed.” With that, he slams the door between you shut and you slide down your headboard, consumed by embarrassment, shame, desire. His dastardly good looks have really thrown a spanner into the works.

You barely managed to get any sleep that night, much like every night the week following the wedding. Your dreams were plagued by visions- of your father, of your captors, of your husband. Before your seizure, you already knew your future would hold a forced marriage; although an even less desirable one. Your father had plans to marry you off to your cousin, a brainless specimen by the name of Fester who was too dim-witted to even realise he was being used as a pawn in the family’s bloodline feud.

Despite your many attempts to plead and beg your way out of this union, your father dismissed you entirely- even going so far as to sanction you to the confines of your stuffy quarters, striking you remorselessly when you defied his orders.

You’d spent a lifetime dreamily peering out of your windows, waiting to be liberated by a saviour that never came- at least not in the way you thought.

Lord Vader was never present, aside from a very brief juncture in the evenings, when he would pass through your chambers on the way to his bedroom. You tried to make conversation but he either stared at you with dead, unamused eyes or flat-out ignored you. Asking him what he did during his working hours was not one of the things you tried to speak about- much preferring to stay in ignorant bliss- and he was more than happy to not be at the receiving end of your questions for once.

Growing increasingly tired of questioning your purpose on this wretched behemoth of a ship, you took the liberty of posting yourself outside his bedroom that night, waiting to block his exit until he at least acknowledged your existence. You’re ashamed to admit that you selected your nightwear especially for him- tonight choosing to wear the thinnest of slip dresses in the pathetic hopes that he might be drawn in by your pert chest.

As is routine, you hear the doors to your chambers swing open and are greeted with the welcome sight of the young Lord, who strides over to you intimidatingly. Removing his helmet and towering before you, you gulp at not just the height difference- but the sheer broadness of his shoulders compared to your slender ones.

“Move.” He states, glaring at you unaffectedly.

“No. I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me.” You stubbornly huff and you think you spot a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“You don’t give the orders around here, Princess.” He asserts as he lifts you up by the waist with ease and drops you out of his way like you were a meagre traffic obstruction. You’re filled with disbelief as he enters his room, shutting the door in your face. “At least he didn’t slam it tonight.” You ponder.

Slouching down the door defeatedly, you pout as you hear him undress, desperately in need of an explanation.

“Please.” You plead pitiably, not expecting him to hear you.

You almost fall to the floor as your backrest swings open, and you lift your head to see him, sighing above you.

“What is it?”

“I-I just wanna know some things.” You mutter, cradling your knees on the floor.

“Then talk.” He taps his foot impatiently.

“Well uh- for starters, why am I here?” You rise from the floor to face him. “Why did Palpatine want you to marry me?”

“He wants me to sire a son- to ensure his plans can be carried out should I be otherwise indisposed.” He looks away coldly.

“I don’t understa-“

“Palpatine will live into his 200s. I am only human. If I am killed, he wants another apprentice to bend to his will, one just as strong with the force.”

“So why haven’t you attempted to do any siring yet?” He looks at you with a look of intense shock, disgust even. Of all the things he’s said, you take issue with his lack of action in the bedroom.

“I refuse to participate in this charade. He’ll see that you’re barren after a while- and we’ll dispose of you accordingly.”

“But I’m not barren.” You interject, dismissing the latter part of his sentence.

“It would be in your best interests to pretend you are.” You’re beguiled by his smooth voice and find yourself yearning to hear it all night. “I’ve brought someone to keep you company, hopefully with them in attendance you’ll be less inclined to seek my attention.”

“Another handmaiden? Ah, spare me- the current one is more than irritating enough on her own.” You shudder at the thought of 2 Sabes, prattling in your ear all day.

“No, I’ve ordered for the capture of your former attendant. I believe you were quite fond of him- Silas, is it?”

Your heart seizes, he’s alive? More importantly, he’s being brought to you? You stare at the scowling face of your husband, who looks afraid you might try to do something overly affectionate.

“A purely self-indulgent measure. To prevent any future ambushes like the one tonight.” He backtracks, attempting to impose some distance but you disregard it entirely. “If that’s not enough to keep you occupied, you can also have access to my private library - Silas will be waiting for you there tomorrow.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” You whisper, throwing caution to the wind and wrapping your arms against his waist, face snugly pressed into his firm chest. You feel him tense up at the intrusion, but he relaxes ever so slightly with an exhale, hovering his arms above your own- careful not to let them touch lest he give you the impression he’s embracing you back.

“Call me Anakin.” He mumbles softly.

You wake up the next day, your chest feeling lighter than it has in years. Bounding out of bed, you instil deep confusion in Sabe, who enters your room with fresh clothes.

“Having a good morning?” She asks.

“I think actually, yes. Yes, I am.” You reply resolutely, allowing her to dress you without your usual complaints as she tightens your corset.

“Might this have anything to do with Lord Vader?” She raises an eyebrow, consumed with curiosity.

“Perhaps. Or perhaps I see that my new life might not be so bad after all. I believe I have someone waiting for me, you’re dismissed for now, Sabe.” You waltz out of your chambers to the library that Anakin mentioned you were granted entrance to.

You enter the room and stare in wonder at the rows upon rows of polished shelves, furnished with all kinds of large, leather-bound books. Among the volumes of publications is a tall, spindly man- standing with his back turned.

“Silas!” You cry out and dart towards him, colliding against him in a tight embrace.

“Princess! Let me look at you, are you hurt?” He grabs your face, inspecting it for any cuts or bruises.

“No, no I’m perfectly fine!” You smile.

“How could you possibly be fine? I heard about the wedding- it’s a scandal, it’s a disgrace! The intergalactic senate will hear about this- I promise I will get you out!“

“Silas, it’s okay, I’m being treated well here.” Your reply sends him into a stunned silence.

“You’ve been married to a Sith Lord. A princess of the purest blood made to intermingle with the lap dog of the Emperor. I don’t even want to think about what you’ve been forced to do here to survive.” He shudders.

“I haven’t been made to do anything. And Anakin really isn’t that bad once you get to know him a little.”

“Anakin?” Silas almost breaks out in hives at what he’s hearing.

“Yeah, that’s his real name. And oh, Silas, he’s so handsome!” You clamber on, reading the titles off a nearby bookshelf and digging for something that might take your fancy.

“I don’t believe this. One week under captivity and you’ve been brainwashed already.” He takes his head into his hands.

“I haven’t been brainwashed.” You chuckle. “Anakin is the one who brought you here. Just for me. And he lets me have the nicest quarters on the ship- and I’m allowed private access to the whole library!” You gush.

“So he’s built you a very pleasant cage. Fantastic. Just because your prison has a nice interior doesn’t make it your home.”

“Well, it’s no less of a prison than Onderon was. At least in this one, my marriage isn’t incestuous.” Silas’s eyes widen beyond measure at the boldness of your statement and he takes a seat before he collapses.

“He used the force to heal me when I was in pain.”

“And what caused you to be hurt in the first place?” He snaps back accusingly.

“Silas, listen to me.” You kneel beside him, taking his hand into your own. “I’ve spent too many years worrying about the fate of my future, cursing the Maker for how little control I had over my own destiny. No more. I can only take life as it comes in small waves- I have relinquished control. This is my new home now.”

With a heavy sigh, Silas nods- looking away as if unable to process your revelation.

“Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet.” You say, mischievous twinkle in your eye.

The remainder of the day is spent flicking through various books, amassing a pile of them in your bedroom so high that you could barely see Sabe’s head poking through when she entered.

“Um, m’lady? If you won’t be requiring anything else for the night, can I retire? Silas and I were thinking of wandering down to the observatory by my quarters…”

“Of course, Sabe, enjoy.” You chuckle as she meekly smiles and exits your room. You knew they’d hit it off, one perennial chatterbox with another. Flicking through the last page of the first edition volume of The Tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise, you hummed discontentedly. “What a terrible ending.” You thought as you inspected the piles on your floor for the second volume. You suspect you must’ve left it in the library when you were packing your books onto the trolley so you wrap a thin robe around yourself and march down the hall. You notice the lights already burning as you enter the library cautiously, peering your head through to see Anakin, sitting on an armchair and reading something out of a thick, metal-encased manual.

��What’s your book about?” You query as you approach him slowly.

“It’s a story about a very naughty princess who loves to go looking for trouble.” He sneers, lip curling up into the shadow of a smile.

“No, it’s not!” You titter as you pry over the bind, seeing various starfighter diagrams and mechanical cross-sections.

“What do you want now?” He shuts the book promptly.

“I just came to collect something I left behind.” You reply innocently.

“I trust you’re enjoying my collection, then.” He looks up at you for the first time and your breath catches in your throat at the sight of his dreamy eyes.

“Oh yes, it’s very impressive. I didn’t think Sith Lords read so much.”

“They don’t.” He gets up from his chair, sauntering over to a nearby shelf and picking out a specific book. “Try this, I think you’ll like it.” He throws the book in your direction and you catch it; observing the cover, you speculate it’s some kind of historical tale about a lost civilisation.

“Thank you, I’ll be sure to read it.” You tuck it under your arm. “Are you retiring for the night yet?”

“Yes, I’ll leave the library to you.” He gets up to leave but you stand in front of him.

“I was only here to get something, escort me back?” You ask and he looks you up and down before making a low grunting sound, something you can only assume is a sign of acceptance. He heads out the door and you follow, trailing behind him like a lost puppy.

“I never got to thank you.” You say as you enter your chambers, seizing the short moment you have to converse before he disappears into his bedroom.

“What could you possibly have to thank me for?” He rolls his eyes.

“For rescuing me.” You reach out to touch him by the arm but back down, courage failing you.

“You’ve lost your mind.”

“No, really. My circumstances back home were…less than ideal.” You stare down at your feet.

“I admit I find it peculiar that you don’t seem to be in mourning.” He notes, more intrigue in his tone than you’re used to.

“Would you be in mourning over a man who oppressed and rebuked you at every turn?”

“I see. I suppose that explains your…unorthodox behaviour.” For the very first time, he takes a seat on the chaise lounge by your bed- does he actually want to have this conversation with you?

“I guess you could say that. After he locked me up in the palace and forced me to accept my cousin’s betrothal, I abandoned all hope for the future and resigned myself to perpetual misery. And then you came along.” He squints his eyes, looking almost frustrated with your positivity.

“Are you sure you understand the situation you’ve found yourself in? You’re aware you’ve been abducted- forced to spend every day locked up here, never to see your planet or familiars again? Forced to play wife to me?” He gawks incredulously.

“You’re not as bad as you make out.” You smile at him. “And you’re certainly very easy on the eyes.” You look for changes in his demeanour but it remains unaffected. “Would you have preferred it if I was terrified and unwilling to go near you?”

“Terrified? Of course not, the thought of it sickened me. Unwilling to go near me? I’m not sure I’d mind.” He states and you wonder if that was his way of making a joke. “I regret that you’ve been ensnared into this. I wish it could’ve been different.”

“I don’t.” You pluck up the courage to sit beside him, placing your hand on his leg. “I can see there’s goodness within you. It’s almost tangible in the way you treat me.”

“Clearly I’ve given you the wrong impression.” He mutters gruffly, visibly uncomfortable. “And you can stop wearing those little dresses around me. All you’re going to succeed in doing is get frostbite.” He pushes your hand off him.

“Do you find me that repulsive?” You question sharply, tired of being made to feel undesirable. “I’ve been told my looks rival that of some of the fairest Princesses in the galaxy. Is a man like yourself so completely cold to the affections of women?”

“I fail to see how that is relevant.” He dismisses.

“It’s relevant because I’m tired of my bed being cold. You chose to marry me, now act like a husband!”

“What choice? I had no choice!” He shouts back and your blood runs cold when he stands towering over you.

“That makes two of us. But I fail to see what good can come from sulking about it.” You lower your tone.

“You’re that desperate, huh?” He sneers condescendingly.

“So what if I am?” You throw caution to the wind, fully aware of the way you’re debasing yourself right now; after the breadcrumbs of affection he’d been giving you, you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Fine.” He says, making his way over to the bed, ripping off his shirt.

“W-what are you doing?” You murmur as he undresses and positions himself in the middle of your stately bed.

“I’m ready, Princess.” He mocks, parroting what you’d said to him on your wedding night. “You wanted to fuck me, right? Well here I am. At your royal disposal.”

“N-not like this.” You mutter, trying not to stare at his firm pecs or chiselled abdomen.

“What’s the matter? You’ve been prancing around in those little dresses all week, practically begging me to give you a scrap of my attention and now I’m in our marital bed, you’re too scared?”

“I’m not scared, I just don’t want to feel like I’m forcing myself on you.” You mutter quietly, drained of all confidence.

“You’re worried about all the wrong things. Palpatine told me to brutalise you to within an inch of your life, you know that? To take all my anger out on you and make you pay for the sins of your family. And you’re worried about whether you’re taking advantage of me. I fear I have been too soft. You seem to forget who you’re speaking to.”

“But you didn’t.” You sniffle.

“What?”

“But you didn’t do those things. You’re a good man, Anakin.” Your voice softens and you climb up the bed to join him, allowing your gaze to linger on the small line of blonde curling hair starting from his belly button, travelling down to what lay underneath his underwear.

“No. I haven’t quite lost all my humanity.” He breathes heavily, seemingly noticing your staring.

“Let me show you my appreciation.” You bit your lip and bravely met his intense gaze. He doesn’t respond, the only noticeable reaction being his eyes wandering down to your breasts, thin material doing little to conceal your pert nipples.

“Do you wish to see me?” You ask, fingers toying with the straps as he huffs slightly, acting as though this were beneath him- but still remaining silent. You shrug the material off, revealing your round, perky breasts to him. You think you can see something twitching in his boxers but you can’t be sure.

“Can I?” You ask, gesturing to sit on his lap but he remains speechless. “Please, my Lord, I need to hear you-“

“Yes.”

A grin spreads across your face as you mount him, completely bare. Putting your hands on his chest, you move your hips a little to feel him. Not that you were expecting any less for a man of his stature, but you felt yourself getting soaked at his formidable size; he was surely 8 inches, and just as satisfyingly thick. Your eyes fall to his pretty face and you’re overcome with the urge to kiss him all over. Reaching down to plant small kisses over his temple and cheeks, you feel him stiffen even more.

“What are you doing?” He grumbles.

“Shut up and kiss me.” You pant as you capture his lips in a soft kiss, brushing them against each other. You can feel him almost fighting the urge to hold you so you take the initiative and grab him by the jaw, kissing him deeply and passionately. You think you hear a moan slip out of his mouth but when you pull away, he’s still got the same cold expression on his beautiful face- brows slightly furrowed and lips pursed in disaffection.

“If you’re waiting for me to make a move, it’s not going to happen.” He sighs, looking fatigued. A quiet rage simmers within you. You’ve had suitors lining up at the palace gates since you were a teenager and now this glorified servant is behaving as though he is the prize. You craved the chance to teach him not to underestimate you, to make him see you were special. “On another occasion, perhaps.” You thought. Tonight, you just wanted to make him writhe beneath you.

“If you’re going to be making snarky comments all evening, I’m going to stuff my panties in your mouth to silence you.”

“What panties? You didn’t wear any.” He grins and your chest sets alight. However brief it was, it’s the first time you’ve seen a genuine smile. His teeth were pearly and straight, and his smile broad enough to reach across his whole face in a bright, radiant flash. You felt like your day had gotten better just by being witness to it.

“Why do you always do that?” He breaks your trance.

“Huh, do what?”

“Disassociate. You stare right through me when you do it.”

“M’sorry. I can’t help it.” You feel a fierce shyness overcome you.

“You find me that handsome?”

“Yes.” You whisper. You have no idea why you’re admitting to it.

“Is that why you don’t mind being married to me?” He continues and you’re confused by the volume of questions coming your way- it’s more than he’s talked to you all week.

“Partly.” He smirks a little at the ego boost and places his hands on the back of his neck, arm muscles flexing as they’re extended. You trail a line from the centre of his chest down to his abdomen with the tip of your index finger, stopping as you reach the band of his boxers. You look up at him and he raises an eyebrow at you, almost daring you to go further. Toying with the band for a little while, you steel yourself and pull them down in one prompt motion. You have to hold in a wince as you take it in- in all its thick, veiny glory. With a shuddery breath, you savour the view before you: his strong, toned arms trailed down to his athletic torso, v-line achingly defined and sloping down to his large, pink-tipped member. “Even his dick is pretty.” You mentally cursed. His smirking, confident simper never faltered, not feeling a fragment of insecurity for even a moment.

Knowing you weren’t going to get any warming up from him, you lifted your hips and angled yourself up, tip kissing your entrance. Maintaining eye contact, you slowly sunk down on him, lowering yourself gradually until your bare skin brushed against the curls around the base of his cock. He shuts his eyes for a moment and exhales lightly, pretty lips forming into a small o shape. You try to subdue the overwhelming feeling of being filled so deeply, not wanting to stroke his ego even more than you already have. You begin to move, riding him very slowly and focusing on his chest as it rises and falls, eyes watering at the sensation of being stretched out. Worrying that he’s going to question why you’re going so slow, you begin to speed up even though it aches.

“Slow down.” He speaks softly. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“As if you care.” You huff.

“Don’t get on my bad side, Princess.” He shoots you a deadly glance and you slow back down, knowing better than to disobey him. It takes you a good while to accommodate to his size, oo’s and aa’s escaping your mouth every time you straighten up and sink down on his cock a little too deeply- but after the adjustment period, you start to ride him confidently. Your tits bounce with a hypnotising jiggle as you smack the flesh of your ass against his thighs, wetness drenching you both. Noticing how his arms lay by his side, you grab him by the wrist and lay them on your hips. He grips onto them slightly for a moment, but quickly releases and lets them fall back down to his sides. You whine a little, starved of affection. You were bouncing on his cock yet you still felt like you weren’t close.

“Please?” You moan.

“You wanted this, not me. I said I’m not participating, didn’t I?” His voice rings out, completely unaffected while you were a panting mess.

“Don’t pretend like you’re not- ah- enjoying it. F-feels good, doesn’t it?” You stutter, feeling his tip prodding that spongy spot within you that threatens to be your undoing.

“It’s fine.” He replies, still refusing to engage in any meaningful way.

“Oh come on, Anakin! Give me something.” You feel like you’re one snarky comment away from resorting to begging.

“I’ve given you my cock. What more do you want out of me?”

“I want you to talk to me, I want you to touch me. To be present!”

“And I want for my wife to not be such a whore.” Your mouth gapes open at his harsh words, but you continue bouncing, getting too close to stop now. “I mean seriously, you’re being held hostage and all you can think about is getting fucked? There’s nothing in that little brain of yours other than visions of me fucking you, is there? I’ve seen them.”

You moan at his degrading words- if you weren’t so cock drunk, you might be ashamed of the way you’re allowing him to speak to you.

“Oh my God, are you gonna cum from me talking down to you? Does me calling you a stupid whore get you off?” He rambles and you can’t stop yourself from turning into a whimpering mess, moans spilling out at every turn and unintelligible groans flooding the room as you bounce on his cock.

He reaches up towards you and you think he might be pulling you in for a kiss but instead, he hooks his fingers into the corners of your mouth, stretching it out. You babble out disjointed syllables, too overwhelmed to establish a rhythm that isn’t completely sloppy.

“The fuck are you even saying right now?” He laughs and oh god, there’s that smile again- if his cock wasn��t enough, now his grin is making your legs feel like jelly.

“What are these dumb little sounds you’re spluttering out? You sound like an idiot.” The lewd squelching noises increase in intensity as you fall apart on top of him in a sudden climax- pleasure hitting you like a truck and nearly knocking you out. You pant on top of him, trying to catch your breath with your head resting on his chest. He clears his throat after a minute and you shuffle off him, laying your head on the nearby pillow instead.

“Wow. That was…did you not cum?” It occurs to you that you’d just used him for your own pleasure.

“Of course not.” He gruffly responds, legs still spread and cock exposed, glistening with your arousal. “I have self control.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask and he turns to face you.

“You’re like a bitch in heat. It’s not very princess-like of you.”

“Well, I’m not a princess anymore. I’m a Sith Lord’s wife.” You counter.

“Wives don’t ride like that.” You know he didn’t mean it as a compliment but you chose to take it as one anyway.

“Aren’t you going to cover up?” You point at his exposed body while you clutch the crisp white sheets around yourself.

“Why should I?” He snaps back and you’re taken aback by his show of confidence. And you certainly weren’t complaining.

“Yeah, I bet you aren’t.”

“Okay, you’ve got to stop doing that! It’s unnatural.” You complain.

“I don’t ordinarily pay such close attention to these things but your mind is so dirty.”

“Oh yeah? What have I been thinking about in the last couple minutes then?”

“You’ve been wondering how I’m both a shower and a grower, how you’ve never been so wet before - oh, and how you want to fuck me again.” Your cheeks redden at his painfully accurate observations- and you feel his vulgarity plant a renewed desire within you.

“Really, you want another round? Fine. Hop on.” He sighs, tapping his thigh. You stare at him affectionately with a smile as if to say “really?” and you clamber over him again. You only have to press your dripping body against him once and he quickly hardens again, tip oozing with precum. You waste no time impaling yourself, pussy swallowing him greedily- slightly sore but still stretched out enough to take him with ease.

“Anakin, please.” You mumble, reaching for his hands- needing to feel them on your skin.

“What do you want?” He replies breathily.

“Please, touch me.” You slide up and down his shaft, body racked with delirious pleasure. “Pleasepleaseplease - please Anakin!” He scoffs smilingly at how you’ve been reduced to a needy mess before he’s even put an ounce of effort in. “Do you want me to beg? I’ll get on my knees and beg- please, touch me just a little, please Ani-“

“Alright, alright, enough!” He stops you and you wince at his harsh tone, wishing that just for once, he’d be gentle with you.

“I’m sorry, it’s okay. I’m right here.” He reaches out and wraps his hands around your dainty waist, right arm gradually trailing up your body. His knuckles brush against your cheek tenderly before he wraps his strong hand around your jaw and pulls you in for a kiss. You squeak in shock at the unexpected affection as your breasts press against his chest, one hand squishing your soft flesh and the other wrapped up in your hair.

“Mmm, Ani.” You hum, your deepest craving finally quelled.

“No one’s called me that in a really long time.” He mumbles into the kiss, sliding both hands down to your ass cheeks and gripping them firmly.

“Is this what you wanted?” He asks as he slides you on and off him, commanding your movements with his strong grasp.

“Oh God yes, fuck Ani- ah.” You gasped as he began lifting his hips and fucking his cock into you, fingernails digging into your hips. “‘m not gonna last much longer if you keep go -oh, just like th- aah.”

“You don’t need to.” He whines, finally allowing himself to utter his own sweet sounds.

“Nuh uh, I-I want you to cum with me.” You whimper in his ear as you wrap your arms around his neck. Cradling you, he wraps one arm around your back and rests his other hand on the back of your head while drilling you with such vigour you almost black out.

“Shh, baby, shh- ’s okay.” He moans and your walls flutter at the heavenly sound. Try as you may, you can’t stop the drool that streams out of your mouth, fucked so dumb that you’re losing control over your senses.

“You’re close, can feel you gripping me.” He sputters, barely audible over the sound of your squeals. “You want the whole ship to hear you, huh?”

“I want them all to know who I belong to.” You manage to get out clearly, trying to get a handle on your faculties. Rising up from being tucked into his neck, you start bouncing on him with the excitement of a little bunny, so desperate to bring him to his release. You look down at him, eyes screwed shut, gnawing on his bottom lip and you feel how furiously his eager cock throbs inside you.

“Want you to fill me up.” You warble, dropping your hands to lay on either side of his face, soft locks brushing against your wrists. “I wanna be yours.” You stare into his eyes, which have just fluttered open, eyebrows knitted close together.

“You’re already mine.” He whispers, grabbing you by the waist and turning you over in one swift motion, your back hitting the plumpness of the bed. Before you can take a breath, he slams into you again and your back arches from the overstimulation.

Hooking his arms around your thighs and pulling you deeper into him, he roughly pounds against you, cock gliding into your sensitive core. You try to focus yourself, gnawing on your lip and mentally repeating: “You can’t cum this quickly again.”

“Oh yes, you can.” He asserts mischievously, speeding up his sloppy strokes until your eyes roll to the back of your head. You grip the sheets around you, trying desperately to hold on for just a few seconds longer.

“Don’t you dare.” He growls, slapping against you roughly. Beads of sweat trickle down his defined pecs, down to the creamy mess where your bodies meet. With one final gloopy thrust, you scream out his name and collapse entirely, body convulsing with pleasure as he moans at the sight, burying his face into your thigh.

“Goddamn…” You hear him mutter as he continues using your body like a toy, dragging you onto him in a way that you don’t even notice in your cock drunk stupor. You hear a glorious groan escape his lips as he pulls out, painting your body with his creamy white cum.

“Why’d you pull out?” You whine, completely spent and feeling woefully empty now that your bodies weren’t connected anymore.

“You know why.” He exhales as his head hits the pillow beside you. “I refuse to let a child come into this.” You huff a little but feel too exhausted to argue.

Shuffling over, you test his boundaries by leaning your head against his shoulder. When he noticeably stiffens and backs away a little, you sit up hastily to face him.

“Really, Anakin? You’re still not comfortable around me?”

“I’m as comfortable as I need to be.” He murmurs and you let out a fussy whine.

“I’ve just given myself to you entirely and you can’t even hold me after? Please, Ani, you’re making me feel really-“

“Fine! If it’ll get you to be quiet.” He pulls you in swiftly, his strong arm wrapped around you protectively and you let out a satisfied hum while he shakes his head- no doubt wondering how he got stuck with such a petulant child.

The days that followed were full of you waltzing around the ship, lost in your daydreams. Anakin had been dispatched to a different system for a mission and much to your displeasure, wouldn’t return for several days yet; you never knew exactly how long his journeys would last, you only knew they were doubtlessly too long. You missed him dearly - and if the way he hugged you back before he left was any indication- you were growing on him too.

After enthusiastically getting through the book Anakin recommended, he told you that he’d left a stack out by his desk in the library- a personally hand-picked selection that he believed you’d enjoy. Your heart fluttered at the thought and you felt yourself keenly gliding over to it. You reminisced fondly about the way his soft hair felt when it brushed through your hands, how his dreamy eyes made you weak at the knees- how he had the prettiest cock you’d ever seen. You didn’t realise it was possible for someone to be so perfect- so what if he had an unsavoury pastime? It was a flaw you were willing to overlook if it meant you got to wake up next to that face.

Entering the library, you hum a chirpy song and float over to the desk where you find a neat pile of books in varying colours and sizes. Just as you were about to pick the first one out of the stack, Silas rushes in- scruffy and disorganised, looking over his shoulder.

“Princess! Princess, you must hurry. They’re here- they’re finally here.” He sputters, grabbing onto your wrist like a madman and leading you out.

“Slow down! What’s going on?” You question, wondering why you were running along with him.

“Oh but we must be quick, the stormtroopers can only be held off for so long! Sabe is leading the distraction-“

“What are you talking about?”

“Word finally reached them, they’re finally here!”

“Who? Who’s here?” You shout back, brain spinning in confusion.

“The Senate has sent an army - a rescue team for you!” Silas stares at you with crazed eyes, sweating with anxiety. “We can finally go home!”

“W-what?” You stutter, allowing him to lead you out to the docking bay where you can see a battleship undoubtedly belonging to the Galactic Republic- suspended midair awaiting boarding.

“Wait, wait, no.” You backtrack but the grip Silas has around your wrist is too strong to easily break from.

“You don’t mean to tell me you wish to stay here with that brute?” He glances back at you, face painted with disgust as he pushes on for the last few metres left until you reach the ship. “He doesn’t care about you.”

“That’s not true!” You shout, propellers buzzing over you with a furious intensity.

“Is that so? Then why isn’t he putting up a fight right now?” He gestures behind you and you turn around to where the observatory window is. There he is, standing behind the glass, looking at you calmly.

“Do you see? He doesn’t even care enough to stop you!” Silas digs his fingernails into your wrist as you reach the ship, doors unloading with a steamy hiss. “Get in!” He yells, pushing you forward with all his might.

He’s letting you go. He’s letting you leave.

“No!” You fight back, striking Silas across the face and sprinting out of his reach as soon as his grasp on you loosens.

“You idiot! Stay here and rot with those Sith devils!” He curses, clambering up the stairs and smacking the handle, signalling for them to shut. Tears course roughly down your face as you stand back and see the ship ascending before darting off into the distance in a beaming flash. Turning around, you run as fast as your feet will carry you, scrambling up to the observatory to the man you’d just abandoned life as you knew it for.

Throwing the doors open, you see him: mouth parted, eyebrows raised and a singular tear rolling down his cheekbone. You jump into his arms, colliding and entangling yourself with him.

“Why did you do that, huh?!” He grabs your face with both hands, kissing you desperately. “Why would you do something so stupid?” You break out into a sob as he mumbles against your lips. “I would’ve let you go, you could’ve left.”

“I know, that’s why I stayed.” You wrap your hands around his own, still in a firm grip around your face. “I love you, Ani.” You gaze up at him with such adoration he feels his cold heart bursting.

“I love you too.”

As soon as the words leave his beautiful lips, you leap to kiss them- trying desperately to memorise every detail and every sensation that belonged to this moment.

“I-I thought you would’ve surely left if you could.” He murmurs, struggling to break away from your lips. “Thought you were jus’ making the most out of a bad situation.”

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” You say sincerely, hoping he could feel the love you have for him pouring out of you.

“I don’t believe my eyes.” A dreaded raspy voice resonates across the room. “The Princess has fallen in love with my apprentice. And he seems to love her back? Now this is just precious.” Anakin stands in front of you protectively, pushing you back.

“She will prove to be useful in the future.” The Emperor hisses, glaring at you with an empty hunger in his eyes. “Now that she has demonstrated her loyalty.”

“It’s the last show of loyalty you’ll ever see.” Anakin spits as he draws his lightsaber from the left belt hook on his robes and strikes Palpatine, beheading him in one swift motion before he can even register what’s struck him.

“He always taught me that even the most powerful of enemies can be defeated-“ He turns to face you, retracting his glowing lightsaber. “with the element of surprise.”

A twisted grin creeps up on your face as he swoops you up like a true bride- lifting you with a firm hold and carrying you out of the room while you wrap your arms around his neck, planting kisses all over.

“I think it’s high time me and my wife got some privacy, don’t you think?” He gestures at the incoming stormtroopers, who confusedly back away after spotting Palpatine’s decapitated body. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

You giggle as he carries you to your chambers, throwing you onto the bed and peering out of the large doors one last time before shutting them with a loud clamber- ah, free from disturbance at last.

@erinkeifer @crazy4men @mortalheartache @arzua10

#hayden christensen #star wars fanfiction #darth vader #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker smut #anakin x reader #anakin fanfiction #anakin x you #star wars smut #sam monroe #life as a house #anakin x reader smut #anakin fluff #sw anakin #star wars anakin #darth vader smut

2K notes · View notes

meowzfordayz · 3 months

Text

hashira accidentally touch your chest

Author’s Note: pls and ty enjoy this tidbit of crack-fluff. 😆💖

hashira accidentally touch your chest

Hashira x Reader

Word Count: ~1,600

CW: explicit language, Fem!Reader, mild sexual content

Suggestion Fulfilled: Can we get all hashira accidently touch y/n's breast

~faqs~

Fyi, “chest” means boob. I was just worried Tumblr would block this post from tags if I included “boob” in the title lmao. 😉

Shocked 😳😖

“I apologize, [y/n]-san, it won’t happen again!”

Gyomei’s nearly in tears, he feels so terribly 😞

“These things happen!” you promptly assure him, “Besides, you technically won the bout.”

No need to mention that he always wins when training together 🥲

“I cannot accept such a tainted victory.”

“Himejima-san, though I appreciate your concern and respect, there’s truly no issue.”

Meanwhile, Gyomei’s rethinking his entire Breathing Style to ensure he never accidentally touches anyone’s boob(s) again 💀

In cold disbelief 😐😐😐

If you don’t say anything, then he won’t say anything

Alternatively, if you do say something, then Obanai will immediately curl up into a ball and die

Spends the rest of his day recalling the fleeting warmth of your breast

He swears his hand doesn’t even get cold, so affected by the heat of your bosom

Your boob must be ✨magical✨

“Iguro-san,” you call out gently, noting his dazed stare, his dinner untouched while he sits crossed legged, “Is something on your mind?”

“No.” 😐😐😐

Well okay then 🙃

“About what happened earlier…”

🫨🫨🫨 <— Obanai is FREAKING OUT

“… Iguro-san, I didn’t mind.”

And then you stand up, take your dishes, and leave

WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT EVEN MEEEAAAN?!?!?!

Good luck finding Obanai tomorrow 🫡 (the poor man’s been pleasantly overwhelmed)

He’ll avoid you for eternity now 😌 (not really, but at least until he can breathe around you again)

She giggles 🤭

Lol

“Oh my! [y/n]-san, I didn’t mean to touch you so intimately!” 😅

“No worries, it happens.”

Your face may or may not be burning up a storm, but that’s okay!

Mitsuri’s blushing too

A lot 😳

“I hope I didn’t hurt you?!”

Because like, What if I gripped too hard?! 😭

She’s well aware of her own strength

“You barely brushed me, Kanroji-san. I promise!”

Phew!

She grins, relief evident as she bumps her elbow against yours

“Don’t tell anyone, okay? I would be so embarrassed!!!”

“Kanroji-san, our secret is safe with me.”

I wish it would happen again… <— lowkey both of you thinking the same thing 🤪

As a medical personnel (among other roles), Shinobu accidentally (or even on purpose, depending on where you’re wounded) touching your boob isn’t entirely unreasonable nor unrealistic

Obviously it would be nicer if she was caressing you out of love and affection 😔

And not methodically cleansing then bandaging claw marks that just so happened to cross over your chest 😒

“You should make a full recovery,” she’s all business, “The demon avoided your nipple and didn’t puncture deep enough to affect the functionality of your breast,” fortunately, you’re too exhausted to be embarrassed by her bluntness, “It has a nice shape. I’m glad you survived.”

EXCUSE ME WHAT?!?!?! 😃🫠

Now you’re kinda embarrassed

More so preening, really 🤭

It’s like when a doctor randomly compliments the rhythm of your heart or some other characteristic from a mainly professional POV, but you’re still caught off guard because who tf compliments someone’s kidneys or bowels movements or?????

In your pain hazed delusion, you briefly contemplate somehow getting your other boob injured too… gotta make sure you’re matching in (nice) shape, y’know? 😌

Kyojuro can be discreet, albeit more so for your sake than his

“I APOLOGIZE! I DID NOT MEAN TO TOUCH YOUR BREAST!” <— how he could react 💀

“Pardon my slip, are you okay?” <— how he actually reacts, because he isn’t entirely lacking in social awareness and decorum 😆

“Oh,” you don’t mean to squeak, but it can’t be helped when the most handsome man you’ve ever known just casually grazed your boob, “I’m fine! Totally fine! Haha!” 🫨😵‍💫🫠

You’ve gotta be more convincing than that, or Kyojuro will never forgive himself 😕

He’s a lil oblivious when it comes to physical attraction

Not like, infantly so, but given this particular circumstance?

He doesn’t realize you’re flustered; he assumes you’re mortified 😖

“You sound decidedly less than fine.”

He’s softer now, worried about startling you 🥺

“I was surprised! But don’t worry! I’m not worried!”

Okaaay, but he’s worried 🥲

“Is there any way I could make amends for my indiscretion?”

Not only is he handsome, but he is such a gentleman 😭😍

“Rengoku-san, there are no amends to be made, I promise. I’m not mad, nor do I feel unhappy or unsafe. I forgive you.”

Your regaining of the ability to speak in complete sentences greatly reassures him 😮‍💨😁

“Ah. Well. I am grateful for your kindness and understanding. It will not happen again.”

…

Hold up 🧐

Why does she seem… she seems… disappointed? Should I have said it will happen again??

You’ve suddenly given Kyojuro something quite pleasant to ponder 🤔

After all, he isn’t entirely oblivious 😉

“Are you going to apologize?” Sanemi demands

“For what?” you screech

“For touching my hand with your boob!”

Your eyes roll, “Oh fuck off!”

“I didn’t ask to touch you,” he grunts

“I wouldn’t have given you permission anyway,” you retort 😒

Arms crossing over his bare chest, Sanemi scoffs, “Well I didn’t give mine either!”

“You’re ridiculous. It was an accident.”

You seem genuinely pissed 😬

Sanemi rethinks his approach

“You know I’m joking, right?” 😅

“Nooo,” your sarcasm cuts deep, “I thought you were flirting.” 😐

Uh 😀

Well 😃

Shit 😄

“Fuck you!”

When in doubt, curse ‘em out 💀

You scowl, confusion lingering as your blood boils, “Fuck you!”

“I said it first.” 🙄

You stalk away, fed up with his antics

#man child #sort of #romantically inept is more like it

As tends to happen with epiphanies, yours doesn’t hit until you’re almost asleep

“WAS THAT MOTHERFUCKER FLIRTING WITH ME???!” 😳🥴😭

Best believe Shinazugawa Sanemi is about to have a Lesson 101 in flirting asap 😤😎

(assuming you’re older, like, mentor age to Muichiro)

Neither of you make a fuss about it

It’s like accidentally calling your teacher mom 😬

Or grabbing a random person’s hand in the supermarket thinking they’re your parent 🫣

Embarrassing, but not a huge deal — unless you make it one

There’re those three seconds of slow motion Uhh and What just happened and Oops 🫠

And then time speeds up to normal again, you have a quick conversation with your eyes (gosh forbid you speak and bring the unspoken into reality 💀), and it’s over

^^ Alternatively, if Muichiro initiates a conversation to clear the air, then you’re able to have a mature and concise chat that is respectfully and patiently resolved

Embarrassing/accidental encounters are part of growing up

As long as they can be navigated ~safely, there shouldn’t be any lasting harm

⚠️I also want to emphasize that I am talking solely on inarguably accidental/one time incidences⚠️

Hehehe

Giyuu’s hand is stuck 🫣

Only for like, a fleeting second

But omg 😭

He was already embarrassed, and now he’s triply embarrassed 🫠🫠🫠

“... Tomioka-san?”

You won’t lie; you aren’t especially bothered 🤭

But it is a compromising position to be caught in; Giyuu lowkey crushing you, one of his palms clearly cupping your boob 😬

#wrestling #or something #so maybe this isn’t super realistic #forgive me

You’re about to repeat his name when he finally springs to life, immediately rolling off you, standing abruptly, about to literally sprint away

And then he remembers his manners 🙃

He offers you a hand

His other hand; his boob hand is currently tucked away in his haori

He’s never washing it again

#closet perv

“Thanks,” you smile faintly, accepting his assistance as you lift yourself from the ground

You hope he can’t hear your heartbeat 💓

He definitely can 😶

But can you hear his?

“I don’t think we should train together anymore.”

Giyuu is swift and harsh with his solutions

“Why?”

Your question comes out stiffer than intended

He hesitates, unable to interpret the fear in your tone — the longing

“I always beat you,” he explains lamely, “Don’t you get tired of losing?”

You scoff cheerfully, grinning now as you squeeze his hand

Fuck, we were still holding hands?! <— Giyuu is in shambles 😳

“I could never lose!” you declare, feelings brimming in your throat, spilling onto your tongue, “Not when I’m with you.”

Then we should absolutely stop training together would be the responsible reaction

Attachments are the most dangerous game for a Hashira to play 😕

Instead, Giyuu’s rendered speechless, unable to shake his hand from yours

“Well alright then,” he mutters, stomach churning as he narrowly avoids the warmth in your gaze

In fact, you swear he squeezes back 💓

“EXCUSE ME! I HAVE A WIFE!” 😤😤😤

“You have three wives.” 🙄

Sputtering, Tengen shrieks, “I already have plenty of breasts to touch!”

“Tengen,” you glare, not one to back down as you jab a finger into his own chest, “You touched my boob.” 😒

“AND I’M SORRY!” 😭

Much better 😌

“I don’t know what they see in you,” you scoff (you’re also lying, you can see plenty🤭), “They’re gorgeous… and you freak out when you accidentally touch a boob.” 💀

Tengen is 100% pouting now

“I don’t freak out when I touch their boobs,” he huffs

“Well aren’t they lucky.” 😐

“You could be lucky too!”

…

Tengen starts running

You give chase

“DID YOU TALK TO THEM ABOUT THIS?”

Tengen runs faster

“TENGEN!!!!!”

Tengen runs faster and faster

You give up

*insert gasping for air here*

“DO YOUR WIVES KNOW THEY’RE MARRIED TO A COWARD???!!!”

Oh well, you’ll have to visit their estate sometime this week 🙃

You’re sure to get an answer from Hina, Makio, and Suma ☺️

And you can’t wait to see more of Tengen 😏😋

Sorry, sometimes the horny just happens 🥴

#hashira x reader #headcanons #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #gyomei x reader #obanai x reader #mitsuri x reader #shinobu x reader #kyojuro x reader #sanemi x reader #muichiro x reader #giyuu x reader #tengen x reader

957 notes · View notes

cuthalions · 8 months

Text

Maedhros answered: ‘But how shall our voices reach to Ilúvatar beyond the Circles of the World? And by Ilúvatar we swore in our madness, and called the Everlasting Darkness upon us, if we kept not our word. Who shall release us?’ ‘If none can release us,’ said Maglor, ‘then indeed the Everlasting Darkness shall be our lot, whether we keep our oath or break it; but less evil shall we do in the breaking.’ Yet he yielded at last to the will of Maedhros, and they took counsel together how they should lay hands on the Silmarils. [...] But the jewel burned the hand of Maedhros in pain unbearable; and he perceived that it was as Eönwë had said, and that his right thereto had become void, and that the oath was vain. And being in anguish and despair he cast himself into a gaping chasm filled with fire, and so ended; and the Silmaril that he bore was taken into the bosom of the Earth. And it is told of Maglor that he could not endure the pain with which the Silmaril tormented him; and he cast it at last into the Sea, and thereafter he wandered ever upon the shores, singing in pain and regret beside the waves.

— THE SILMARILLION, CH. 24: OF THE VOYAGE OF EÄRENDIL AND THE WAR OF WRATH (insp. by middle-earth-mythopoeia)

#silmedit #tolkienedit #tolkiensource #silmarillion #maglor #maedhros #mgifs*#sons of fëanor #tolkien

856 notes · View notes

barbieaemond · 5 months

Text

A snake in the bosom

Moodboard by the queen herself @zae5

PAIRING: Prince Regent Aemond x Lady!reader

WARNINGS: dark Aemond, angst, public humiliation, semi public sex, p in v, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), religious kink, knife kink if you squint, overstimulation, light choking.

WORD COUNT: 5.3k

Author’s note: House Peake were green loyalists during the Dance. Shout out to @zae5 who helped me brain storming this filth 🫶

taglist: @zae5 @multyfangirl @chompchompluke

The skies rumble as they always do when preluding a storm. But it’s different this time. The thunder echoes in your chest, sliding through your ribs and then rattling them to break free.

A warning, the Gods’ way to seal what cannot be undone. They greet this new day, this new order, with blinding lightning. The Wood seems bathed by the early morning light, and yet the owls will soon resume their sentry task on the branches of these ancient trees.

A new flash forces you to look up and you think you can see them, the Seven, leaning out from their perches, pointing a finger at a woman like any other, with her bowed head devoted to obedience and her tight corset to choke to death any desire inside her heart.

And you did.

You stopped going to the library, you kept your eyes faithfully down, weeding out the need to caress the silver through your gaze, to feel the cold alabaster carved into angles so precise and sharp as to be exhausting.

You stopped lingering on the delicacy of long white fingers turning pages, on white knuckles around the sword, rippling with veins, blue and green as snakes crawling underneath.

Not looking didn't do much good.

It's all burned into your eyelids, and the more you don't look the more your mind betrays you like a stab in the back, evoking slender hands and an arched mouth that lazily pulls itself up into an omniscient smirk.

It happens so often that you've come to terms with it. Desire is a shadow that follows you step by step, crawls into your bed as you lie with your husband, makes you close your eyes as you peak and in the darkness that shadow is finally flesh, pulsing and weighing on you, but it is not.

It shouldn’t and it will never.

The lightning tells you can no longer hide, there is no way to stall now, no way to trick the King about the allegiance of your family. It is easy to fool a fool, more so when he’s willing to make himself one in front of a woman. But the King is burned. His cries of pain can be heard outside Maegor’s Holdfast, until the Maesters are merciful enough to give him milk of the poppy.

The throne is empty, the Kingdom has no ruler. But the Gods are snickering with thrill and dread.

Not for long.

“My lady, there’s a storm coming.”

You turn and see your maid clutching a cloak to her chest to shelter from the wind. "Please, you should go back inside.”

You nod tiredly, walking on the thick grass, dragging yourself back within these walls in which days seem to pass following two different times.

There’s the real, urgent one, a military up and down of whispers and promises, pawns moving and ravens coming and going, breaking or forging alliances as easy and quick as their wings flapping. And then there’s your time, dilated, obscenely slow, like molasses. It sticks to your fingers, prevents you from picking up ink and parchment and write, cheat, whisper what you have easily spilled from the worn out lungs of your husband.

“Men sing like parrots in their final throes, remember that. They’d tell you anything when they think with their cock.”

Samantha had been right. But your sister is playing her game in Oldtown and Old Town is not the Red Keep. There are no eyes on the walls there, or ears behind the portraits. There’s no shadow trailing on her path, clouding her mind enough to look away from the game. A game of life and death, your father reminded you in his last letter, the scolding clear in the way the feather had pierced the parchment in some points. The answer was nowhere but in your head, and you were too ashamed to even confess it to a Septa, let alone put it on paper. There’s a snake crawling in your garden of lies and instead of chasing it away, you’re nursing it in your bosom.

You slow your steps upon glimpsing your husband. He’s striding towards you along the corridor. There’s a slight furrow between his brows, one that you have been able to recognize on the faces of many within this fortress. But it's more severe now, or maybe it's just that shadow that makes you see a new man, a stranger.

Has his hair always been that dull and mousy? Has his posture always been so unassuming?

They have since that night in the library, the sin whispers.

“Husband.”

“I’ve been looking for you. We have been summoned to the throne room.”

“Is something the matter? Is the King—"

"The King lives. But the Maesters believe it is best to confine him to bed. Come, Prince Aemond is waiting for us." he grabs your arm and you walk with him, glad that he can’t see the shadow falling on your face at the mention of the King’s brother.

The throne room is so dark that servants are hurrying themselves to light more candles. Every now and then a new lightning flashes from the large windows, making the Iron Throne an eerie sight at the center of the Hall.

There are a few Lords of the court with their ladies, and they seem just as lost as you as they see you and your husband halting before the ancient seat.

Whereas not more than a moon ago, Lords and Ladies would have had to wait hours to be received by Aegon, the new ruler is not long in coming.

The huge doors open and Aemond Targaryen stalks the room carrying the same storm breaking outside. He makes a striking figure, ominous; the lighting pours on his long silver hair making them look like moon rays.

A dreamy picture, were it not for the conqueror's crown on his head and the sapphire in plain sight.

It is the first time you see him without the eyepatch, the first time anyone has seen him without it. They said he wore it so as not to frighten the ladies, but the one-eyed Prince is done hiding. And if fear is all he can muster, so be it. It serves him well for what will come.

He halts before the Iron Throne and takes a good look at the little gathering. You can’t help but trail your eyes on his lean and tall figure, wearing a dark green doublet made of velvet. But it’s the sapphire that catches your eye, and the long scar marring his marbled face.

You remember that one. You remember it shamefully clear while disappearing along with his head beneath your gown.

“My lords” he starts lacing his hands behind his back “As you may know, my brother is in no condition to rule. Thus, according to the law, in case of physical or mental incapacity of the sovereign, the younger brother must bear the weight of the crown.”

There is a shy, almost uneasy passing of glances between those present, but Aemond ignores them altogether. “I will not style myself as King. You will address me as Prince Regent and Protector of the Realm."

Silence falls upon the huge Hall until a loud thunder seem to awaken one of the lords who hurriedly bends his knee before the Prince. "My Prince, I renew my absolute loyalty to you and your—“

"Get up, my Lord, I did not summon you to hear you pledge your loyalty.” He says in a bored tone, darting his eye at the man “Rest assured, if I had any doubt about it, Vhagar would be feasting on your corpse as we speak.”

Silence falls once more and Aemond revels in it. He can smell fear, just like the creature he rides. “But you did raise an interesting subject.” he tilts his head and looks at Lord Peake, your husband, with a benevolent expression stretching on his face. “Lord Peake, if I asked you to pledge your loyalty to me and my family, would you do it?”

You dare not to raise your head, keeping your eyes glued to the ground, but you can sense your husband’s uneasiness, the sound close to one being insulted as he addresses the Prince. “Prince Aemond, my loyalty to your Grandsire and the Dowager Queen has never wavered and it never shall.”

The Prince nods slowly, seemingly pleased by the answer, and keeps his gaze down for a few moments before casting a sharp glance at you. You can’t see it but you can feel it.

“That is very noble of you, Lord Peake. But I can’t help but wonder, is your lady wife of the same mind as you?”

Lord Peake looks puzzled, shifting the weight on his feet “My Prince, my wife is—”

“No.” Aemond cuts him off, darting a single look at the Lord before returning on you “Let her speak.”

With a deep breath, you look up, shrinking under his violet eye and the sapphire ominously glinting of his own light. “My prince, I am saddened that your Grace would think I’m nothing but loyal to your brother, the one and only heir to the Seven Kingdoms. Every day, I pray the Gods to heal him from his burns and give him strength to—”

“Hush.” He says, raising a hand to stop you. “That’s enough.”

You shut your mouth nervously, tensing all the more as he looks at you, unblinking, for a long moment before his lips stretch into a slow, cunning smirk.

“You know, I spoke to your distant cousin once, Lord…something Tyrell. He said something very interesting to me.”

You keep a blank face even when dread starts to run down your spine. Despite the distant kinship, there’s always been bad blood between Tarlys and Tyrells.

“He said to be very careful with Tarly women. Pretty vapid things, he said, hiding a viper’s bite.”

“I am neither my prince.” you state calmly “I’m just a woman like any other, serving my husband, my house, my King.”

“Hmm.” He ponders, the smile lingering still. Then, he picks something form his pocket and asks “What is this then?”

Despite the darkness, you could recognize that seal with eyes closed. And that seal, now, in this room, clutched by Prince Aemond’s fingers, is a death sentence.

“This is not the seal of House Peake.” he rightly says.

You look down, mustering your courage, and say “No, your Grace. That is just a silly token of love between two sisters. I use it to send ravens to my sister in Oldtown.”

“I see. And why do you hide it?”

“I do not, your Grace.”

“Lying to the King may cost your head, my Lady. You’d do well to remember that.”

“Wife…” your husband takes your arm, searches your face with an anxious stare “What is going on?”

“The White cloaks found it.” The Prince informs him “when I made them search your rooms.” He looks back at you and raises an eyebrow “For a token you’re supposed to be so fond of, I may suggest placing it somewhere else than the bottom of an old trunk.”

“Am I on trial for sending letters to my sister?”

“Yes. Considering the circumstances under which these ravens were sent. Ladies give letters to their maids, they do not go personally to the rookery, more so in the hour of the bat.”

Courage leaves you like a gust of wind. You thought you had been clever, careful. Why would anyone take notice of a court lady simply taking a walk in the early hours? And even if they had, they would have dismissed the thought at the first distraction. But not him.

“You think I would not notice? I may be half blind but I can assure you, my lady, I see everything.” He throws the seal on the ground and resumes his soldier-like posture, standing tall and domineering with his arms laced back. “What did you tell your sister? Knowledge about our war plans? Are you secretly siding with the Blacks? I’d advise you to choose your words carefully. From them depends whether you’ll see the next dawn or not.”

Your shoulders slump a little, like a doomed creature sticking its head in the noose.

“My father asked me to spy on my husband to gather knowledge about the green army at Rook’s Rest. But I did not send any raven. I stopped since—"

“Since what? Do continue, my lady, I think your Lord husband is keen to know why his wife stopped playing him like a fool.” He leans his head forward, like someone desperately willing to hear a big secret, but your tongue is a dead thing in your mouth.

“No?” he inquires as silence stretches “Fine, I’ll tell you. You see, Lord Peake, recently your Lady wife seemed to have developed a sudden interest in the library.” the prince says with a little grin “I’m aware of this because I am myself an avid reader. In fact, your lady wife and I have been keeping each other company lately. A rather…intimate company.”

Some of the ladies start to whisper at your back, and you know what kind of words they’re labeling you.

“Wife.” Your husband calls, and this time his voice is steel “What is the meaning of this?”

You open and close your mouth, unsure whether it is worse to tell your husband how you’ve played him or to confess your sin.

“Come, don't deny it now.” the Prince goads you “All the hours you've spent, all those late nights did bear fruit, did they not? You've betrayed your house and the Crown, yet what sweetness it was to have gotten a taste, I'm sure your husband would agree.”

Lord Peaks looks utterly bewildered, shifting his gaze between you and the Prince like a dead fish.

“Oh, so he hasn't after all.” Aemond laughs “A pity, for your treacherous essence reeks of the most bittersweet nectar. Tart, but delicious.”

Your husband’s face is whiter than a sheet for a moment, followed by a red veil of anger and shame. The latter is in plain sight in the way you keep your head down; the Gods have stopped pointing their finger at you and left you in the claws of a much crueler creature. Namely, your own desire.

“Search her.” Aemond orders returning to a stern face “And search her thoroughly.”

“My prince?” asks one of the guards.

“Women can be sneaky with all those veils and layers. Lose the corset.”

The cloaks look at him puzzled, just as you and your husband and anyone else in the room, but the guards know better than to disobey the King.

One of them goes to stand behind you and starts pulling the laces of your dress, another is busying himself with lowering your sleeves.

Your eyes bore to the ground with the purest humiliation as your chest gradually grows exposed. You could raise your hands to hide your breast, but you have nothing to hide, not anymore.

You know it and Aemond knows too. He’s not doing this because he thinks you’re hiding something. He’s doing so for his own pleasure—to see you bare, to finally make you come out of your den and stop hiding from him.

You dare not look at him but you can feel his eye lingering on you, on your body; you can sense the ghost of a delighted smirk on that wicked mouth.

He takes an unreasonably long time before he gives a short nod to the guards, at last satisfied with your public humiliation. What drives your husband to move is not regard for you, but for his own dignity. What are women if not property of men? And however ruined you are now, Lord Peake will not have talk of his wife standing with her breasts out in the Throne Room.

But just as he leans down to you, the Prince speaks “You may go, Lord Peake. All of you.”

The Lord stalls, looking lost at his Prince.

“You can wait outside. She stays.” Aemond commands.

His eye is boring into you as he walks down the few steps with leisure, lingering on the sole of his boot before resting it on the ground. “She needs to learn the price of her disobedience.”

Your husband hesitates, looks at you with lingering disdain and a veil of fear that keeps his eyes wide open, but he can only bow his head.

When you’re left alone the Prince, save for the guards on the four sides of the hall, you dare to look up and see his eye blazing, a cunning edge to it.

He starts circling around you, and what’s left of your dignity makes your hands fly up to cover your chest.

“You said you stopped writing to your sister. And you stopped coming to the library.” he starts with a collected and calm voice. “Why?”

“You know why.” you mutter.

“You better drop this condescending tone if you want to leave this room with your head on your shoulders.”

“Apologies, my Prince. I did not mean to offend you. But I dim you wise enough to understand why I thought it was best to keep my distance from you.”

He stops his circling for a moment “Enlighten me.” and then he’s pacing again.

You swallow, smelling ashes and smoke on his trail. “It was a sin.”

“Hmm. Which one?” He asks somewhere behind you. Out the corner of your eye, you see him slightly leaning towards you, silver rolling past his shoulder as he cocks his head to one side “Your betrayal or the fact that you let me feast on your cunt like a common whore?”

You swallow again. Shame is still coiling in your belly, but there’s also something else on hearing those words coming from his mouth, recalling that night. This man has just humiliated you in front of the court and yet you crave for him to get closer.

“Both.”

“Both?”

“I did not want to.” You say and it’s true. And this, this is the last chance you might have to avoid the pike, or worse, Vhagar’s fangs. “My father forced me.” You say turning your head left and right as he resumes his pacing behind you “I don’t know which kind of deal he has struck with Prince Daemon but I swear it, my Prince, I said nothing about Rook’s Rest, I—“

The word dies on your tongue along with your breath as you feel the coldness of a sharp blade against your throat.

“I should slit your throat here and now.” He whispers dangerously, you can hear his teeth gritting. His arm is pressing on your chest, keeping you locked against him. “What else Lord Tarly ordered you in all his great wisdom? Mh? To seduce me? To play me like a fool, like you played my brother and your husband to gather knowledge about our armies and report it to my uncle and his whore?”

“No, I—" you try to say, but he presses the blade firmer and you choke a gasp, unconsciously grabbing his arm.

“You will speak when I say so.” He seethes, pulling your arm back with his other hand, painfully twisting your bone until a moan of pain escapes your mouth.

It awakens something inside him, something savage that makes him collide his body against yours “Hmm.” He coos darkly in your ear “This brings me back to that night.”

He swiftly twirls the dagger, sheathing the Valyrian steel, but his hand is quick to resume his caging, sliding on your half-covered breast, looking down your shoulders at your bare chest.

His fingers are cold as they slowly travel up, but they lick flames on your skin, making your nipples harden. “Do you remember, little snake? I do.” he runs the tip of his finger on the hard sensitive skin and you whimper softly “It was hard to forget the sounds you made.” He speaks to your neck, his breath scorching “I could hear them when I fucked my hand at night. You made me sin so many times. Was that part of the plan too? Did your father force you to moan my name while you peaked on my tongue?”

“Please…” you sob quietly, feeling fire nestling in your belly at the sound of his voice and the feeling of his bulge against your lower back.

“Do you moan like that when your husband fucks you? Mh?”

He wants an answer, and he pinches one of your nipples when you don’t please him.

“No…”

“No? I thought so.”

Your body reacts on his own, clenching for how his voice in your ear pools like liquid fire below your stomach. You can see his delighted smirk out of the corner of your eye. “You better speak now, little one. Not even the Gods can save you from the spike. Why would they? They turn their backs on traitors and sinners. And you dared to sin with a Kinslayer. You have only me to beg for mercy.”

“You don’t want to kill me.” You choke when his hand laces around your throat.

He would’ve done it already. He might still do it, but his pressing hardness on your back tells you otherwise.

“No. I have a better use for you.” he says squeezing your neck “I will make an example out of your treacherous mouth. They will look at you and be reminded of the mercy of my crown.”

He steps back and you have little time to catch your breath as he sits on the Iron Throne with the confidence of a God on his perch. The candles mix with lightnings, making the blue of the sapphire and the obsidian of the crown shimmer in a disturbing way.

He rests his arms along the forged swords, his long legs almost sprawled out on the ground. “Come and pledge your loyalty, my lady.”

Your heart hammers in your throat as you swallow. This is a game of life or death, but not now. Your two times have merged into a perpetual dizziness and you’re sinking into the claws of your desire like quicksand.

“No.” he admonishes with a voice like honey when you dare a step closer “On your knees. Like the sinner you are.”

You sink to the ground and his eye goes down with you, smirking with something savage flashing on his face. “Go ahead.” He says spreading his legs around you. “Take your blessing.”

You raise your hands slowly, close to his belt but when you start unbuckling it you find there’s no tremor in your fingers. And he’s too quick to notice. “You wanted this, do you?” he asks “Did you close your eyes and pretend to suck my cock instead of your husband’s?”

The buckles clink together as you finish the unbuckling but he suddenly leans over you, gripping your cheeks with a hold of iron.

“Answer me.”

“Yes.” You quickly, shamefully say.

The left edge of his mouth pulls up tiredly, omnisciently. “How? Like this?” In a blink his long fingers breach your mouth, hitting the back of your throat until you choke on them. He pulls them back just slightly, grazing your tongue, and he looks at you with a lustful blaze in his eye.

“Suck.” he orders, and you oblige, keeping your eyes on him as your mouth close around his two fingers, sucking gently and twirling your tongue around the skin.

“Hmm.” He croons with pleasure, leaving your mouth abruptly to lean back against the throne, sliding a little on the ancient seat to push his crotch before you. He makes haste of pulling his cock out, giving it a few tugs while he keeps looking at you, at the longing darkening your eyes and wetting your gowns.

You take hold of his hard hot length, all veiny and leaking from the tip and it’s only natural for you to close your lips around it. You have obscenely dreamed of this.

He lets out a loud gasp, gripping the throne with his hands as your head goes down, taking him all in. It hits the back of your throat with a lewd choking sound; you breathe through your nose, resuming your holy punishment once you have adjusted to length and girth, sucking hard and fast.

"Greedy little thing.” He praises with his eye growing heavy with pleasure “Easy. Easy, now.” he goads you to slow down, and you do, looking up to see him watching you closely, his lips parted, his breath slow and puffed.

“Fuck—” he curses, titling his head back but keeping his eye fixed on you. “See? This is the only good use for your cheating mouth. And you look so pretty.”

The ache between your legs is unbearable, you’re swollen and wet, you can feel your undergown dampening.

“Are you soaked for me, hmm? I bet you’re dripping all over the Conqueror’s swords.”

You have no way to answer as you keep bobbing your head up and down, a sinner worshipping her own sin.

“Open your mouth—wide” he orders and you do, drooling all over him as he starts to thrust harshly in your mouth.

“Yes. Like this, yes—fuck” He pumps in and out, bucking his hips, hitting your throat on and on while he moans helplessly and loudly, as only a King on his throne can.

“Hollow your cheeks.” And when you do it, something snaps inside him. He grabs your hair, pulling at the roots painfully while he keeps fucking your mouth frantically, choking your breath. But you don’t mind. This could be your last day, your last hour breathing. The snake is sucking at your bones and you welcome the poison.

“Enough.” he croaks when he was starting to breathe too fast, too close to the end. “Get up.”

Your knees ache as you pull yourself up but he’s so quick in lifting up your skirts and grabbing your waist to make you turn and sit on his lap, facing the Throne Room. The Guards are exactly where they’re supposed to be, blind and deaf to what they can perfectly see and hear.

“Let me give you my blessing, now.” Aemond says spreading your legs on the throne, making you wince as you feel his hot fingertips on your wet aching folds. “You’re soaked.” he states proudly, smiling with victory next to your ear.

He draws lazy circles on your bundle, sliding down your dripping lips, slowly, too slowly. You buck your hips against his hand and his chuckle travels up and down inside you, rattling your bones like thunder.

“Please…” you cry when his fingers brush your swollen lips once more.

“I should summon back your husband. So he’d see how his pretty wife begs to be fucked by her Prince like a whore. Shall I?”

You grab his hand, pressing it to your core and he dips a finger inside, spilling a loud moan from you that makes him bite your ear as he feels your hot walls clenching around him.

“Fine. We shall let him hear it.”

He brings his soaked fingers to your mouth, sticking them inside to make you taste yourself, and then he takes your wrist, trapping it on your stomach with his hand. He easily slides his cock inside you, moaning along with you into the haunting silence of the hall. His thrusts are deep and quick, desire has consumed him too, for too long. The sounds of flesh slapping against flesh are only barely muffled by your frantic gasps. Your eyes are closed in a painful bliss, his hot labored breath dampens your neck as he fills you to the hilt.

Your throat is sore with lack of air as you turn your head and he slams his mouth against yours, filling your mouth with his scorching tongue, biting your lip and sucking until it’s swollen. All of this while relentlessly rutting into you, giving you violent bursts of pleasure that make your moans high-pitched and loud, so loud that everyone outside these walls can hear them. Your husband will hear them, the guards are definitely doing so.

“Fucking Gods, you feel so good” He pants in your mouth “You really wanted this. Your cunt is squeezing my cock like a vice. That husband of yours never fucked you this good, did he?”

“Gods—” you whine, squeezing your eyes shut but he grabs your chin with his free hand, forcing you to turn your head. “The Gods cannot hear you now. They’re deaf to the pleas of sinners.” with his free hand he clutches your bundle and he starts to torture you, drawing fast circles, while his length keeps rutting harshly. “Lucky for you I’m more merciful than the Gods.”

The tension in your belly is unbearable, it makes you cry obscenely and the sound only pushes him to go harder, faster.

“Please—I—I can’t—Gods—”

“You can’t what? Mh?” he nothing but growls, thrusting once more and then again. “This is your retribution.” He says baring his teeth “You failed your family for this. You lied and cheated. Now fucking—take—it” his last words punctuated with three deeper thrusts that make you whimper and roll your eyes back.

It doesn’t take much longer for you to reach your peak, letting out a long moan matched with sloppy shakes of your body against his. But he doesn’t stop, chasing his own pleasure as you whimper and sob with overstimulation. His hand keeps moving on your apex, all sticky with your pleasure and you grip his arm, trying to stop him. “Please—I can’t take it anymore—please my Prince—"

“You can and you will.” He promises “Give me one more. Come on, little traitor, just one more.”

You’re not late in granting his wish, trembling all over him and curling your toes with spasms in your muscles.

He groans loudly beneath you, teeth clamping down your shoulder and he stills completely, coming inside you with a choked sound of relief vibrating from his throat.

You whimper softly, feeling him pulsing inside you, but he grabs your waist and forces you to stand up. You waver on your weak feet, his hand is around your arm but only to firmly push you away from him. Falling on the ground, you look up to see him fixing his breeches, hair all disheveled and a sheen of sweat on his forehead.

“Guards.” He says hoarsely, catching his breath, and two white cloaks stand at attention, their faces blank, pretending to be oblivious to what they have just witnessed. “Take her to my chambers and have the maid give her moon tea.”

Then he looks down at you, his face is wild and yet viciously focused. “We’re going to find a way to send your husband back to Starpike.” He says grazing your lips with his long fingers. “You’re not leaving my chambers anytime soon. In the time being,” his hand grips your mouth harshly, his voice eerily calm “You will write to Oldtown in your own hand, and ask my uncle to send me the head of Samantha Tarly.”

You widen your eyes with terror and he smiles, sweet and poisonous. “And remember, little snake. If I find you near the rookery at odd hours again, I will cut your throat in your sleep. Such a waste it would be. I’d rather have you choking on my cock than your own blood.”

He leaves without another word and you’re left on the ground. You can’t beg mercy to the Gods now, you will have to beg for his and his alone.

thank you so much for reading!! 💕

810 notes · View notes

thegnomelord · 2 months

Note

If you're up to it, I would like to request FtM reader x dragon Price, reader can be dom or sub I just need more FtM things in life besides myself😞😞 -🐆

Sure, I wasn't in the mood for porn so have some fluff. fair warning I'm not all that confident writing FTM reader so ya'll tell me if this sucks lol

CW: SFW, gender dysphoria, fluff, non sexual nudity, cuddling, scar kissing

Most day are good for you. Most days you're able to get out of bed and go about your day to day duties with confidence.

Not today.

You wake before your alarm with an unpleasant feeling in your gut, tossing and turning for an hour in hopes of falling asleep but it's useless. The morning chill only amplifies the horrid sensation — your skin doesn't feel like your own, your body doesn't feel your own. It's like roaches are crawling beneath your skin, thousands of toothpicks stabbing your nerves every time the cotton of your boxers brushes against your flawed flesh. Old words of people you once considered friends ring in your head like church bells: You're not a real man, you'll never be.

All you are, is a badly made replica in the approximation of what you want to be.

Your bones feel like they're lined with lead, every cell in your body begging you to stay under the covers in the darkness of your room for however long it takes for this feeling to go away. But the sharp ringing of the alarm forces you to rise against your wishes. You don't look at yourself when you shower, but the small glimpse of skin you catch in the mirror makes bile burn the back of your throat. Usually you're proud of your torso and the muscles you've built, but all you can think now as you put on the tight fitting army shirt is how wrong it looks on you. You try to pull on the front a couple of times in an attempt to make it baggier around your chest, before just putting on a jacket regardless that it's the middle of summer.

Recruit duty makes a bad day even worse, adding a headache alongside the discomfort and anxiety that straddle your brain. You hate how snappy and agitated you are with them, running them through grueling drills until they regret being born and have probably called you every name under the sun in their heads. The all collapse when you're finally finished with them, stepping away from them. The day's heat made you sweat like a pig, another round of bile burning the back of your throat at how your clothes stick to you.

You flinch back when a hand grabs your shoulder, quickly whirling around to look who it is with a sharp retort burning on your tongue, only to fizzle out when you're met with Price's face.

Your name sounds so right when he says it, the scent of tobacco curling in your nose as he steps closer to you, wing stretching out to subtly hang over you. "What's going on lad?" Price asks, his voice low, like taking a sip of cool water.

The question makes you hesitate, unable to meet his gaze so you fixate on counting the little chips in the concrete floor. "Just one of those days." You grunt, your voice hoarse and scratchy from belting orders all day.

Price hums in thought and then you feel his wing bump against your back, "Follow me soldier." The deep timber of his voice silences some of the dark thoughts crooning in your ears, and you're helpless to do anything but follow after him like a lost lamb. He leads you back to his room (that you haunt most nights), the place blessedly cool and dark compared to the heat outside.

The second the door closes and locks he pulls you in close, wrapping his steady arms around you and pushing your face into the pillowy bosom of his pecs. You struggle for a moment out of pure instinct, but a single call of your name makes you stop like a puppet on cut strings. He repeats your name like a caress, rolling every syllable on his tongue as his chest rumbles with a deep purr.

You melt into him, nuzzling your nose into the deep valley of his pecs and breathing in his smell. He's more intoxicating than any drug you know; beneath the scents of tobacco, dark coffee, and manly musk there's always something that your mind associates with freshly cut grass and rain on dry gravel — Comfort.

"You're so smart and clever." He croons, resting his chin on top of yours, one hand tracing the curve of your back. "But by god are you a dumb muppet." There's no edge to his words, you don't even think of fighting his admonishments. "How many times have I told you to come to me if you feel like this?"

Too many times, to be honest. You're stubborn if nothing else, you always think you can handle this on your own, you don't want to burden him whenever your mind decides to be a dick to you. "I'm sorry." You mumble into his shirt, your hands slowly wrapping around his thick waist. It always does your head in how your fingers can't quite meet in the middle of his back with how broad he is, muscle and fat shifting beneath your hands.

"Sure you are." He tuts, evidently not believing you for a second. But he doesn't pull away, tail loosely wrapping around your leg and his scent and heat enveloping you, his chest vibrating against your face. "Going to let me take care of my boy, aren't you?" The way he phrases it makes it sound like a statement, and you're unable to resist it.

Your mouth goes dry, your body stuck between wanting more and abhorring any more physical contact. But you nod your head, grumbling something probably nonsensical. And any other day you'd laugh your ass off about the fact you're practically motorboating him, but not today. Today you barely have any energy left to think.

"That's my boy." He purrs, clawed fingers gently scratching your scalp. "Shower?" He asks.

You pause, trying to string together a tangible thought. You doubt you could handle that, not with how dark and heavy your head feels. "No." You croak and nuzzle further into his chest in an attempt to hide.

"S'alright, I'm proud of you." He hums, still holding you close as he shuffles across the room with you blindly following him. "Let's get you out of those sweaty clothes, yeah?" Getting a single nod from you, he starts to slowly take off your clothes, pulling back just enough to distract you with sweet kisses. You try to help in taking his clothes off, but you feel about as useful as a small child helping his parents cook, getting a few chuckles from him.

You wind up gently pushed down on your back, spread across his bed that smells just like him and naked as the day you were born. Before the discomfort can make you shy away and try to cover yourself, he's settling down next to you, claws scraping against your jaw as he pulls you into a slow kiss. You swear you can always taste a bit of eternity every time he kisses you, so unhurried like you'll last as long as him.

"Look at you." He hums as you part, his hands sliding down your shoulders and arms to your hips. "My handsome boy." He tilts his head to kiss all over your face, trailing his lips from your brows to your eyelids, cheeks, nose, chin to wherever else he can reach. His beard is soft against your skin, evidently he'd used that beard care product you'd given him. "So strong and capable. My strong knight."

That gets the first vestige of a chuckle out of you. "Does that mean I get to lay the dragon?" You ask, your lips tugging into a small smirk. You've made that joke god knows how many times, but despite his gripes, Price loves it.

"Cheeky wanker." He huffs, his cool clawed fingers trailing along the curve of your muscles up your torso. "Later, if you're good."

A low sound escapes you when his thumbs brush the even scars beneath your pecs. "Good?" He asks, waiting for you to nod before tilting his head down, horns gently poking your skin for a second before he starts kissing along your scars. His touch is gentle like you're a precious treasure in his hoard, his lips velvet soft against the rough scar tissue. Every brush of his lips makes your skin tingle like a live wire, fire simmering in the place he kisses as he trails from one side to the other, laying equal attention on every inch of your scars.

It's pleasant. Beyond pleasant. It leaves your chest feeling so warm and full like your heart will burst through your ribcage.

You feel like a melted puddle of goo by the time he pulls away to kiss you on the lips again. You don't struggle as he lays down on his side and pulls you to him. A pleased sigh escapes you as you feel his wing drape over you like a blanket, tail curling around one of your legs and arms wrapping around your waist; like he's making sure you can't escape (not that you'd want to.)

Dragons are strange, the scales cool against your skin but his core is hot like a furnace, the duality of it calming your mind. "How are you feeling lad?" He asks, the low timber of his voice vibrating his chest.

You hum and nuzzle into his pecs, the ample chest hair tickling your face. "Better." You grunt, blindly kissing what inch of flesh you can reach. You can't keep your hands from wandering, petting the dark hair of his happy trail as your other hand traces the scales on his side. "Could feel better with a bit more attention though."

A snort leaves him, his breath ghosting over your ear. "You're insatiable." His words would be a lot more insulting if his chest didn't vibrate with a continuous purr, his tail tightening for a second before relaxing.

"You're to blame." You feel better as the words leave you, your chest light as a feather as you get to share a small laugh with him.

"Get some rest, my boy," You hum, your eyelids already starting to feel heavy as you feel him nuzzle his cheek into your hair. You don't doubt the whole base will be able to smell him on you tomorrow. "We'll see about laying dragons later."

"I love you." You murmur into his flesh, his pecs becoming the world's best pillow as you nuzzle closer. You stay awake just long enough to hear him murmur his love for you in your ear.

#gnome's tea break #🐆anon #gnome correspondence #cod mw2 #x reader #male reader #captain john price #trinkets from the hoard #captain john price x male reader #captain john price x reader #ftm reader #john price x male reader #cod modern warfare #cod x male reader #x male reader #x sub male reader

328 notes · View notes

lyneira · 1 year

Text

♡ mwah! ♡

-> how would the twst boys react if you gave them a peck on the lips out of nowhere?

slightly suggestive at a certain part, otherwise, it's mostly fluff as usual!

Asks why

Vil, Jack, Jade, Lilia, Epel

They're not upset or anything, they're simply curious. What's up? Did you want something? What's with the sudden affection? Are you looking for attention? If so, why didn't you say so? He'd gladly give it. There will be some differences behind the nature of their questions though.

Some of them might be genuinely curious and would like to know what's earning them such affection from you (This would apply to Jack and Epel)

The others will use it as a way to tease you. They'll cheekily ask, "aw, does my sweet y/n want attention? come here", and they'll either give you more smooches or make you work for it, all depending on their mood 😌 (This would apply to Vil, Jade, and Lilia)

Gives you MANY kisses

LEONA, Malleus, FLOYD, Jamil, Che'nya

If you give him a kiss and expect to easily leave without a word, you're terribly wrong. You think you can do something like that and try to escape? Tsk tsk.

Before you can try to retreat, he'll pull you onto his lap and begin kissing you all over, muttering things like "if you're gonna kiss me, do it right". He's 'upset' that you think one small peck was gonna satisfy him, especially since you've interrupted him to do so. Now you have to deal with the consequences. You'll be given the most passionate kisses everywhere and anywhere 😏😘

*.exe has stopped working*

Deuce, IDIA, Silver

Congrats! You've broken them!

You know how the prince had woken up Sleeping Beauty with a kiss? Well you have successfully done the opposite because now these boys can't move a muscle! Their burning cheeks and bewildered stare at you is enough to tell you how much they're freaking out inside.

'WHYDIDTHEYDOTHAT? OHMYGOSHTHEIRLIPS WERESOSOFT Y/N,AREYOUTRYINGTOKILLME?!?'

It's not like you two haven't kissed before, but bear with them, they're just not used to sudden gestures of affection. The best they can do is hug you and hide their flushed face in the softness of your bosom. Pet their head, hold em tight, and they'll melt even further, mumbling a soft,"I love you"

Calls you adorable and gives you a big kiss

Kalim, Ruggie, Cater, Neige, Trey, Rook

These guys will feel the warmth you've put into that kiss and will give it right back. He finds it extremely endearing of you to be so affectionate!

In general, there would almost be a competition of affection between you two. You'll do something sweet and in turn, he'll do something sweet right back. Whether it's through more spontaneous kisses, hugs, or encouraging words, he's not going to allow you to upstage him, he loves you too much

"What was that for?! ...please do it again"

Azul, Riddle, Sebek, Ace, Rollo

Will get flustered once you catch him off guard by bestowing your lips upon his. He'll complain at first like, "I'm busy" or "don't distract me". However, you'll notice that even after a couple of minutes, his blush still hasn't left his cheeks and then he'll finally turn to you, revealing the pleading look in his eyes, "y/n...please do it again". Of course you oblige. How can you resist? He rarely showed this side of him after all.

You can also take this opportunity to tease him a little, but don't overdo it! (or else you'll never be seeing this adorable side of him again) And ensure to make up for your teasing by giving him all the smooches and love he deserves afterwards!

2K notes · View notes

toms-cherry-trees · 6 months

Text

"Lessons" || Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: When your husband's attempts at tutoring you fail, he is forced to seek less orthodox ways

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI. Innuendo, teasing, edging and denial, thigh riding, overstimulation, ass slapping, titty slapping, titty succin, fingering, p in v sex, degradation, breeding kink if you squint, bad teaching techniques

Author’s note: No excuses here. Credits to Sarah @aemondsbabe for the HORN and massive thanks to Miranda @solisarium for the beta read! Requested tag: @marthawrites

Header by the beautiful lovely @ewanmitchellcrumbs

Your desperate whimpers and heavy gasps disrupt the silence of the chamber, mixed with the crackling of the logs in the hearth and the rhythmic drumming of your husband’s fingers against the armrest of his seat. He looks so smug and relaxed, leaning back on the chair, his feet well planted on the floor; a heavy, leather bound tome rests on the table beside him, open in the same page it has been for over a fortnight now.

His index taps three times on the book, pointing at a fairly simple written word, but in your brain it reads like the most complex of riddles. Endless hours your husband has devoted to educate you in the beauty and magic of the Valyrian tongue. There would be no greater pride for him than to have his perfect little wife speak the words of his forefathers, to hear the ancient language roll effortlessly out of her beautiful mouth and whisper before others words only for her to comprehend. Yet you quickly proved to be as thick as you are beautiful, and no effort nor technique could get you past the most basics of vocables. This forced him to seek new methods of instruction, which he implemented with utmost enthusiasm and methodic dedication.

You currently are the perfect image of depravity. Your smallclothes lay in a careless heap at his feet, hair free of the intricate style and flowing freely, flyaway strands sticking to your damp forehead and temple. Your robe hangs loosely from your shoulders, giving you a weak resemblance of modesty. The skirt of the nightgown is rucked above your hips, allowing Aemond a prime view as you drag your soaked folds along his clothed thigh, desperately seeking a climax he knows all too well you cannot achieve like that. He knows your thighs tire too soon, he knows you can’t ever get the angle right. But this is the only touch you are allowed until you learn your lessons.

His questions don’t make it to your ears, unable to hear anything above your own broken moans. The first days you tried to comply and learn, to give in your best to please him in that way. But your best efforts melted into naught when he teased you night after night, trailing touches along your skin that ignited fire in your lower belly, only to cruelly deny you while he sought his release in the warmth of your mouth instead of where you needed him the most.

The motion of your hips stutters as your thighs begin to burn from exertion. Your fingers dig on the flesh of his arms for support, legs shifting just enough to seek a new angle, to find the right pressure you need. But you cannot fool yourself; you need his help.

“Please. Husband, I need you.” Your words are pleading, desire and desperation lacing your tone; your eyes wide and innocent, batting your eyelashes. But your helplessness only amuses Aemond, the corner of his mouth raised on a half smirk. Warm and calloused hands slip the robe off your shoulders and the nightgown away from your frame, leaving you bare before his heated gaze.

“Say it like I taught you, ābrazȳrītsos, and I may consider giving you a little reward.” His thumb brushes across the peaks of your breasts, nipples stiffening immediately at the gentle stimulation. Your nerves are frayed and every gesture pushes you closer to the edge. He rolls the hardened buds between index and thumb, drawing another mewl from your sweet lips, back arching to offer more of your bosom to his touch. Your core throbs in sync with your heart, arousal coating your inner thighs and having left a damp patch in the fabric of his breeches. You rack your brain to find the words he wishes to hear, but it seems your head has been emptied of all thought and logic, leaving only raw and primal desire, an almost animalistic instinct to sate your hunger.

Aemond is quick to pick up the almost dazed look in your eyes, chuckling in delight at your inability to form a coherent thought, all because of him. He brushes his thumb alongside the plushness of your bottom lip, pushing inside your mouth just enough for you to wrap your lips around it and suck dutifully, swirling your tongue around like you had his manhood in you.

“My pretty little wife, so needy for her husband's cock she can't even answer one simple question. Humping and sucking like a wanton whore.”

You whimper around his digit, his words fanning the fire between your legs into a raging inferno. He withdraws his thumb from your mouth, slowly sliding it down your body, leaving behind a shining trail of your saliva. His hand halts just above your mound, darkened eye watching in satisfaction the slight and involuntary buck of your hips, seeking his touch anywhere you can get it. A light swat to your thigh makes you yelp, but the sting is easily forgotten as Aemond’s lips trace the line of your collarbone, settling on the juncture between shoulder and neck and gently sucking at the skin.

With unsurprising ease, Aemond shifts your body until your knees rest on both sides of his legs, your drenched cunt hovering above the tight bulge straining his breeches, almost feeling the heat radiating from it. You swallow thickly, whining loudly as he undoes the lacings and frees his thick cock from the confines of the garments. Fingers wrapped around his girth, he teases the head through your slick folds a few times. Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth, entire body tense and trembling with the effort to not grind against him. You know better than to test your luck when he is being so generous.

“Ñuhus litses ābrazȳrītsos, so wanton and needy for aōhe valzȳrys. Can’t get that beautiful head of yours to work until I fix that problem between your delicious thighs.”

His free hand sneaks between your legs, tracing agonisingly slow circles around your throbbing pearl, making you shudder. You see how much your easily triggered reactions entertain him, the fair lilac of his eye darkened to a purple hue. You are desperate for him, but he is equally delirious for you, that much you can tell when he brings his fingers to his mouth to taste your arousal, his cock twitching in response. You can only hope his need is enough to give in to you.

Two fingers shallowly breach your entrance up to the first knuckle, his thumb pressing down firmly on your pearl while he gauges your reaction. Your eyes squeeze shut and your head falls back, nails digging in your palms, lips parting to elicit a breathy moan. Another question comes to you, but the words never register, and incoherent babbling is all you can gather as a reply. The sharp smack delivered against the supple flesh of your arse snaps you back to your senses, feeling the light sting spread across your skin.

“Eyes on me, kēlītsos. Until I get what I want from those pretty lips of yours, you do as I say. You don’t get to escape me.”

He pelts you with question after question you cannot answer, each failure punished with sharp slaps on your ass, breasts and thighs; some gentle like a caress, others strong enough to make you hiss through your teeth. In between smacks he continues the sweet torture, his touch on you so tender and featherlight it feels like it is just in your imagination. Every time he senses you getting too worked up, he pinches your clit tightly, pulling sharp cries from you intertwined with pleas for mercy.

“Please, husband, please. I can’t hold it anymore. Please,,” You sob, your fingers digging into his shoulders to emphasise your words, and you make a tentative roll of your hips against his hand, hoping he will take pity on your pathetic current state.

He clicks his tongue, the back of his hand dabbing at some tears you hadn’t noticed pooling at the corners of your eyes. Large hands cup your cheeks, thumbs caressing your cheekbones; you lean into his touch instinctively, eyes fluttering close as you take slow breaths to try and regain some control over yourself.

“Dumb little lady you are. So beautiful and so silly. Your head is filled with nothing but flowers and filth.” The slight degradation should sting and wound your pride, but all it does is send a fresh wave of arousal straight to your cunt. “Can’t write Valyrian, can’t read it, not even say the simplest of words without getting all tongue tied. All you are good for is to take Valyrian seed deep in your womb and help spread my bloodline. You would like that, ilībītsos, having my seed take root inside you and grow round and heavy with my children, your breasts full of milk for my heirs. All you know how to do, no?”

You can’t help it, you nod eagerly at his words, hoping this means he will finally relent and allow you release. And it seems all your prayers will be answered when you feel him line the tip of his cock with your awaiting entrance, meeting no resistance as he sinks into you, stopping halfway and delivering yet another smack upon your arse to spur you on like a stubborn mare.

“Ride me.”

You swallow at the command. Your legs are aching still and your energies are weaning, but the promise of putting an end to this most delicious misery is enough to fuel you. You do nothing to stifle your moans as you rock your hips, feeling in you will not last. The hot coil tightens in your belly at a dizzying speed, so taut you feel ready to snap. Wet sounds fill the chamber and your walls flutter around him, breaths coming in short pants. It is so close you can taste it, the one thing you have been so cruelly denied and so ravenously crave. His hand caresses the length of your spine, from the curve of your ass up to between your shoulders. He cradles the back of your neck and pushes your head forward so your forehead rests on his shoulder and his lips are against your ear.

“Stop.”

Aemond’s voice cuts through you like a sword, eyes shooting open and a broken sob coming from your lips. Every nerve urges you to ignore his command and chase your climax, but you don’t. You do as you’re told, letting your body rest in his lap. He questions you again, but you don’t even try to find an answer. You only shake your head, tears beading in your eyelashes while you press tender kisses on the skin of his collarbone. He waits until he feels your body relax, your grip on him loosening.

“Continue.”

Again you try your best, ignoring the cramps of your muscles and the dull pain of your knees against the chair. And once more, Aemond commands you to stop every time he feels you clenching around him. Each time it is harder to stop, but you do it nevertheless. Not once he tries to restrain you himself, because he knows his good girl does as she is told. Even as the tears run freely down your cheeks and pitiful sobs are the only sound you are capable of.

“Please.” The quiet, barely audible plea is muffled against his neck, your face burrowed there as exhaustion threatens to overcome you. Your body feels tense like a bowstring, waiting for the smallest of gestures to let go. Your cunt throbs around him, his length and your thighs coated in warm slick. You remain denied yet your pearl is so overworked it feels almost painful to the touch. All ruined for him, without having been allowed a single peak.

“Daor.” He purrs against your neck, nibbling at the skin as he takes hold of your hips, thrusting into you tantalisingly slowly, burying himself to the hilt in your warm heat and withdrawing until only the head remains, making you feel every inch of him. He steadily picks up the pace, alternating between long strokes and shallow thrust, fast and then slow again. He roams your body, kneading your thighs and squeezing your ass, fingertips tracing the dip of your waist and the curve of the hips. His lips capture a nipple, rolling it between his teeth and sucking with gentle pressure, lapping at the pebbled nub.

You are absolutely overwhelmed, losing control of your bearings as the pleasure comes and goes in powerful waves, barely letting you catch breath before threatening to drown you again, never taking you to one extreme or the other. For moments you want it to stop, but you are sure to die if it does. You no longer remember what brought you to this moment. But amidst the fog clouding your mind you manage to scramble out a single word.

“Kostilus.”

His movements come to a halt, and you can practically feel the wicked smirk against the flesh of your breast. He takes his time to leave a trail of open mouthed kisses round your breast and up your chest, trailing the line of your collarbone to your neck, finally settling on your ear. Aemond gives the earlobe a quick nip, while one hand slowly snakes between your conjoined bodies to circle your pearl once more.

“Sȳz riña.”

Your body slackens against him as he picks up speed, already teetering on the edge. It takes no more than a couple powerful thrusts for you to peak, sinking your teeth into his flesh as you scream your release into him, whole body spasming as the waves of blinding pleasure wash over you, filling your veins with a fuzzy feeling you cannot explain, but is as if your soul has elevated to the heavens and left your body behind. It seems you black out for a moment, for when you regain your surroundings once more Aemond has you cradled against his chest, your robe thrown over you to keep you warm. He caresses your back, the soothing motion lulling you back to sleep. Through the grogginess you hear him whisper in your ear

“This is but the first lesson.”

ābrazȳrītsos - little wife

Ñuhus litses ābrazȳrītsos - my pretty little wife

aōhe valzȳrys - your husband

kēlītsos - little kitten

ilibitsos - little slut

daor - no

kostilus - please

Syz riña - good girl

#aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen one shot #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x wife #aemond one eye #aemond kinslayer #house of the dragon #aemond stannies #marsie writes

753 notes · View notes

historiaxvanserra · 1 year

Text

Reverence

Pairing: Azriel x female!reader

Description: Azriel’s love had always been rough-edged but in the soft light of morning his love is reverent, devout, almost holy.

Word count: 2.8K

Warnings: 18+ only! this wasn’t a request it’s just shameless smut without plot (dirty talk, unprotected sex, oral sex, etc).

This is the sequel to Ruin but they can be read separately. Part II here.

Tossed from the bosom of dreams and into the arms of a pastel morning you wake with a jolt.

The sun perforates through the thin satin of the curtains and fractured light illuminates the room in golden shadows. It’s a myriad of dancing light, like a broken kaleidoscope, sparkling and shattered– but beautiful still. The sun soaks your dewy skin with her burning kisses, searing white hot into naked flesh and the smell of sleep and sex lingers in the air. You lie cocooned between creased sheets, and recount the night before; his rough touches, and the feeling of his calloused palms as they gripped your hips, his chest and how it tasted of salt, his lips and the curses that fell from them like prayers as pleasure washed over you both.

Your fingers ghost over the bruises that he has left. They bloom like roses on the expanses of exposed skin. The stirring of the body next to you, pulls your from the thoughts of last nights tryst. Rolling onto your side you’re greeted with Azriel’s sleeping figure; his hair falls in messy strands onto his face, the longer hairs sticking to his forehead that is coated in a thin veil of sweat, his long eyelashes press against the tops of his fine high cheekbones and the dull crescent moons under his eyes are hardly visible, his mouth parts slightly, soft snores erupting from him. You watch closely as the rise and fall of his chest lulls you into a hazy state wakefulness. He looks at peace in this light, the shadowed sunbeams ribboning onto his sleeping form casting him in a heaven-yellow light.

Lost in introspective thoughts you don’t realise that he has woken from his slumber. His eyes flutter open, hazel irises illuminated in the daylight, flecks of gold and amber that melt into leafy green. Your eyes bore into his and the ghost of a smile forms on your face as he rubs the remnants of sleep from his eyes.

Still half-dreaming Azriel snakes his arms around you, pulling you closer to him, feeling the heat of his body and the beating of his heart in his chest that rises and falls in a steady rhythm. His mouth runs blazing trails of messy kisses down your neck and along your collarbones, nipping at the sunkissed skin of your shoulders and whispering words of adoration into perfumed skin. The memories of not so distant fever dreams, passion still hot in his veins only this morning in the soft, pale light his love is gentle, careful, almost holy.

You relish in his tight embrace and the heat of his skin thaws the cold morning chill away. Him and the sun; burning and ardent. You sigh contently as the gentle kisses he places at the base of your neck become more urgent, breathing him in as he runs his fingers through your hair, you are reminded what heaven smells like; icy air and cedar. Brushing a stray hair from his forehead you stretch in his hold and you bruise like fruit flesh in his tender grip.

Azriel shifts in his position, rolling onto his forearms and his hands settle between your shoulders and your head, sweeping your hair which has fallen in haphazard curls away from your face. Your body curls into him, fitting together like it was always supposed to be this way-- you and him in the pale morning light.

Swallowed by his height and the expanses of his broad shoulders you run your hands over the taut muscles beneath his skin. As your body, still flirting with sleep, melts into him, you snake your arms around his neck, one hand stroking the loose strands of chestnut at the nape of his neck and the other tracing the inky patterns along his right shoulder blade. Your lips meet his slowly, breathing him in with ardour and adoration, deepening the kiss, your swollen lips pressing into his harder this time. Azriel’s hands come to either side of your face, cradling you in his palms, the calloused pad of his thumb tracing soft circles onto the skin of your cheek, running along your cheekbones, temple and jaw. His lips move slow against yours as you melt into each other. He sighs into your mouth, taking you into him, clinging to you, his breaths synchronising with yours and lulling you into a state of bliss.

The way he touches you is full of devotion and something akin to worship. He looks at you more reverently than he does any divine being or High-Fae. He doesn’t know if he believes in a The Mother but looking at you all sleepy, and sunkissed and ethereal, wrapped up in divine light he believes in something. He’s been searching for too long for a place to worship and you, whispering his name like sin against his skin and your hands scorching his flesh, seem the closest to the next world that he will ever get.

He rocks gently into you, his lips dragging across the skin of your neck, brushing his knuckles over the soft, exposed planes of skin at your ribcage, only stopping to whisper in a language you can’t understand, words comparable to prayer.

In those fleeting moments, doused in pale light as he moves over you, it’s clear that the need for each other outweighs all else. Yearning for release, longing for him makes everything more intoxicating. Your breathing grows laboured and heavy with a serene bliss, your senses blur, drunk on his touch and the heat of his skin on yours. His calloused hands, once covered in blood, kiss hymns up your sides, scars grazing over yours, skin whispering and limbs, like heavenly bodies caress your supple skin as they curled into each other, entwining two bodies and becoming one.

His breath hitches in his throat, coming out in breathy rasps as he comes to rest upon your hip, you push your bare hips into his. His cock hardens, silken and cool marble beneath your touch as you press against him in an unyielding rhythm. He groans, his eyes darkening and boring into yours, lips parting and eyes drifting shut so beautifully that your walls tighten at the sight of him. You stroke your hand up and down his length, growing harder under the delicate touch of your hand– the hand of the Gods he thinks to himself.

Azriel pulls your hand from him and entwined his fingers with your own, kissing you, he sucks your lower lip lightly, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. He begins to kiss down your jaw, the crook of your neck, the base of your throat and collarbones, the peaks of his knuckles ghosting the skin of your hips and thighs. Dipping his head into the valley of your breasts, his nose and beard grazing the silken skin as he hums against you, taking a hardening nipple in his mouth while he massages the other. He has committed the maps of your body to memory; always able to find a home in you, returning to those sweet spots he knows make you weak. Giving yourself over to him you exhale, arching your back into him, his one hand holding you, where your back curves away from the bed and into him.Your lips parting with a gasp as his tongue runs light circles over your nipples, flicking them slowly, the grain of his stubble rough against your softness.

Sinking slowly down the curves of your body, savouring you in the light of the rising sun, Azriel prays to you, his words and his touch like velvet over your skin and into your ears. Whispers of worship and the sound of his lips on your skin, marking you as his. You thread your fingers through the tresses of his head when his head settles between your parted thighs kissing odes into the skin there.

You cry out softly, gentle rasps, like hymns when his tongue begins to circle your clit. Sliding his strong arm over your hips so he can hold you still, his muscles, taut and contracting beneath the skin, he holds you down with ease. You’re painted in a blush the colour of the dawn sky as he runs his tongue up your folds, watching your hips struggle to roll in his hold, his pupils dilating and sharpening, a look of devout adoration glinting in his hazel eyes.

Azriel’s tongue sends waves of pleasure rippling through you, heat that creeps up your spine and pools in the pit of your stomach. Your mouth falls agape, a string of curses and praises falling from your pink lips. A soft furrow of your brows in an effort to stop yourself coming undone. Your pleasure and heavenly moans only make him grow more ravenous, he hums deeply as his tongue, inside of you, causes your hips to roll in protest. Sliding his hands around your hips he holds you to him, continuing his assault against you until you’re begging to come undone, begging for him. He draws his lips away from your core, only obliging you by pressing two fingers into your tightness, your walls fluttering around him. His lips fall open, laboured breaths falling from his lips in curses.

You fist at the sheets, needing him close as your body begins to writhe under him, the slow, hypnotic movements of his fingers making you ache. He returns to you, kissing you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue before pressing his forehead to yours and watching you as he thrusts his finger inside of you; a thin veil of sweat on his brow, lips parted and through his eyes darkened in lust you swear you see his soul.

“Come on, baby,” he whispers, silencing your gasps with kisses, “I’ve got you.”

Your walls begin to clench around his fingers and Azriel’s breath catches in his throat, his eyes leave yours, that search for heaven behind his, to watch himself once more, his fingers curling into your sweet spot, swearing before your permit him to put his lips upon yours again.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he murmurs, “Come for me.”

Unravelling, coming undone is easy with his words in your ears and his arms sheltering you, cradling you against his chest as your body quakes with the rippling waves of your orgasm as you come, your cries quiet against Azriel’s lips.

Gentle and unyielding, he doesn’t give you time to recover, sitting up and pulling you into his lap, your ankles digging into the base of his spine and the length of his cock, like marble smooth and hard at your entrance. Adjusting to his size you hold Azriel’s face and look down to his parted lips, drinking in his breathless sighs and whispers of reverence as you roll your hips against the thickness of his cock. Swearing sharply, he arches himself into you filling you. His knuckles grazing the knots in your spine, he holds his lips against your forehead as his thumb traced the outline of your swollen lips, smiling against you when your kiss the calloused pad of his thumb.

“you okay, pretty baby?” Azriel murmurs, voice soft and soothing against your skin, nodding in response to your hum of agreement. “Always so good for me.”

Slowly at first, he fucks into you, gradually gaining momentum as your tightness yields to him. You’re left unable to answer his question, moaning into the crook of his neck, trying to muffle your cries. He combs the messy strands of hair that has fallen into your face with his fingers, curling them away from your face while your name, like some ancient prayer, falls from his parted lips. His hands roam your body, touching with delicate caresses the curves and contours of your body, his arm resting on the bottom of your spine, his hand splayed across the small of your back as he thrusts into you, your hips rolling to meet his movements.

“Don’t stop,” you say airily, tugging on the dark hair that rests at the nape of his neck.

His head falls back, eyes closed and lips parted as he draws closer to his own orgasm. Azriel’s head falls to rest in the crook of your neck, his forehead settling onto your skin marked with the ghosts of his adoration. Unable to find the words, he only growls vows into your skin as his hand on your back pulls you further into him.

With your bliss encroaching the world seems to blur at its edges, bursts of colour and white light momentarily blinding as he fucks into you at an unforgiving pace, his thrusts rough and sporadic as he teeters on the edge of heaven.

Azriel moves you upon his cock and it brings a blush to your skin, pink staining the exposed flesh of your chest. Your moans now little more than whispers as he brings you to the brink of paradise, your body wrapped around his as he lays you back down, pressing your into the bed. Azriel pulls away admiring the glow of your skin in the morning light as the sun peeks over the horizon; the pink and gold sun beams falling in technicolour ribbons and becoming tangled between the waves of your hair. As he comes back to you, pressing his lips roughly to yours his hips begin to snap into yours at a faster pace than before, desperate for release. His lips never leave yours, holding your face in his hands again, thumb rubbing circles into your skin. He groans against you, your ankles crossed against the small of his back, holding him in place.

Your orgasm stirs in your stomach like a raging tempest, whispers of pleasurel dissolves into profanity. Stroking your cheeks, running his thumb over your jaw and up your neck, and whispering in your ear those words that only he knows, he sanctifies your body, bringing a hand to your clit, rubbing slow circles and coaxing your orgasm closer still, so you give yourself over to him and sacrifice never felt so unholy.

Azriel’s name once fierce on your tongue dissolves like sugar, like prayer– you whisper it. Unholy against rose petal lips. It catches in your throat like confessional and he fucks you like a God. Thrusting deeply into you, as his lips leave blazing kissed along your collar bones, his thrusts don’t slow even as the heat of him spills inside you.

There’s no scripture that ever foretold you of such sweet agony; his hands in yours, or his lips that atone a mass across your heaving chest, or the blasphemy he rasps when he spills into you. His fingers bruise like sin into the cradle of your hips. When he’s buried so deeply inside of you until the only word you know– his name– falls from your lips. You wonder if other angels fell so sweet.

Laying you back down on the bed he sits back, pulling out of you watching his orgasm spill from you with a lustful gaze. He rubs comforting circles into your hip with his thumb, his head tilts slightly as he watches you; the rise and fall of your chest beginning to even out, his skin on yours grounding you to this earth. Your skin sheened with a thin veil of sweat, pallid in the divine light of high summer.

Crawling to him, kissing his damp chest that tastes of salt and sweat, and taking his softening cock in your hand, his moans are gospel against your bare chest. Azriel groans softly, his eyes closing as your hand on his skin is a familiar paradise.

You lean your forehead against his and graze the tip of your nose with his, as your lips moved to meet him halfway. Before he kisses you, those amber eyes lock with yours and linger there, as if to convey what your words could not. The harsh edges of your narrow eyes soften. He looks at you in a way that assures you it will be this way, always. All you can do is kiss him, inhaling slowly as you press your lips to his. A warmth settles in your chest when his eyes catch yours again. Laying on his chest, melting into him again, you breathe him in and he hums gently. The heat of the sun and the comforting silence lulls you into a misty wakefulness.

Your finger ghosts his tattoos where the sharp blade of his shoulder meets inky black shadow and your legs entangle themselves in his as he murmurs vows of reverence in a foreign tongue against your dewy skin. The sun finally breaks over the horizon, the veins of amber, topaz and molten gold illuminate the sky.

It’s then he realises that not all angels are made of flesh and feather, milk and honey, molten gold and stardust; some are made of scars and sin, sleep and sweat, flesh and blood and in the heaven yellow light you look holy to absolve him

#acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar smut #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #azriel headcanons #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x female!reader #azriel x you

2K notes · View notes

lovelyunholyc · 1 year

Text

starving, darling

!!nsfw, minors and blank/ageless blogs dni - will be blocked :)!!

fem!reader, names (sweetheart, baby, darling, my love, reader calls him good boy). praise, spitting, oral (f! receiving), cum eating, creampie, unprotected sex. gratuitous descriptions of making out...bc who doesn't want to eat choso whole.... ',:|

you have no measure of the power you hold.

to bring a strong, towering curse to its knees, to make him feel something he had never felt before, had been missing for a millenia, an eternity, it seems, sometimes. choso himself cannot fathom the power you hold over him, cannot seem to comprehend why he so willingly lays himself at your feet - you, a delightful little beauty, a simple little human.

choso likes to be held like this, you had learned quickly. in quiet moments, in the safety of your bed, he buries his face in your bosom, arms secure around your waist, and you brush through the tangles of his hair with your fingers, soothing his scalp; just that morning you'd helped him brush them into those unruly buns he likes, that endear him to you so much. his weight across your bottom half is comforting, his warmth seeping into you.

he's still a little shy to ask for what he wants, but already you've learned him and can glean from the tired droop of his eyes (though they shine just a bit when he sees you), the pout pulling at his lips, and you open your arms and pull him into you.

he'd known he loved you when he watched you dress his brother's wounds that first time. your touches were tender, yet firm and sure, unwavering.

and then you had turned to him, that adorable pinch of concern to your brow, giving him a once over to ensure he was unharmed, before wrapping him in a bone crushing embrace. he'd laughed at the contrast of your gentleness with yuuji to the strength you displayed when you squeezed him.

you're full of contradictions: soft yet hard, tender yet tough, loving yet - when necessary, ruthless. he wants to unravel every single one of them until he has you figured out completely, and then memorize every aspect of you until he can think of nothing else.

he still hasn't had the courage to tell you.

when you hold him like this, so soft and warm and adoring, soothing the aches in his muscles, the cloudiness in his mind, he thinks he doesn't have to.

choso looks up just to be able to admire your beauty, cheek to your chest, ear pressed to the steady thrum of your heartbeat, and you pause stroking his hair to smile softly down at him. "hi, handsome," you purr.

heat rises to his face; he'll never get used to your praise, would rather sing yours instead. still, it makes his heart flutter every time, makes a giddy feeling take over his chest.

he hides his face back in the fabric of your shirt, suddenly shy. it was bad enough for his heart that he'd found you lounging in bed in nothing but one of his undershirts and your underwear, warm and smelling fresh and faintly like your favorite perfume.

you giggle, a sound so lovely that he swears he could listen to it forever, and revels in how it vibrates through your chest and seeps into him. "choso," you call so sweetly, he has no choice but to turn to you once more, cheeks burning. "can i kiss you, sweetheart?"

the nickname makes him blush even harder, though a zip of pleasure buzzes through his body at the confident way you address him, knowing he wouldn't ever refuse.

choso just nods, raises himself up gently to meet your lips.

though you're below him, you dominate the kiss. with a soft nibble to his bottom lip, he parts them easily, lets you slip your tongue into his mouth to coax his out for you to suck on. you lick at his lips, slow and purposeful with your movements, intent on getting him to moan sweetly against you (which he does quickly), on making the back of his neck prickle with pleasure, his fingers to twitch at your sides.

he loves the way you taste, how quickly you can make him fall apart on your tongue. the way you tug lightly at his hair to maneuver his head the way you like, to delve even deeper and take over his mouth. he loves letting you take control of him, his pleasure; you take such good care of him, let his thoughts and worries fade away and allow him to just (feel).

when you pull back, you leave him breathless, panting lightly but smiling because you continue to trail your lips up the line of his jaw, across his cheek and over the bridge of his nose to follow the inky black line bisecting his face. he closes his eyes and revels in your careful attention, your soothing touch. he hums in satisfaction, like a cat purring low and lovely, and the sound makes you giggle softly against his skin.

you touch your noses together and grin, kissing him once more before beckoning him to lie next to you. you sling your arm around his neck and lean over him, your faces still barely a breath apart, basking in the closeness, the comfort.

"how are you today, baby?" your words are simple, soft against his skin as they brush along the strong line of his jaw, but they make his chest warm.

before you, who else outside of his brothers had cared enough about him to know?

choso takes comfort in the warm weight of you settling across his chest, soft hands cradling his face, the pads of your thumbs smoothing absently over his cheeks, and the intensity of the day that had worn away at him so forcefully, instantly dulls and melts away beneath your touch. he relaxes completely in your hold, a bliss he'd never known and from now on would never let go to the best of his ability.

"fine," is all he says, though watching his expression change, knowing all his tells, you know he means much more. "i missed you." and that, you know he means tenfold by the emotion in his voice, the tender hold of his hands on your hips, long fingers drifting up along your lower back beneath the hem of your top, chasing the warmth of your skin.

for someone so skilled in blood manipulation, he never seemed to be warm enough without touching you.

the constant little reminders he gives you that in his overabundance of time on earth, you're something completely new to him, entirely different and extraordinary, somehow - it never fails to make your heart race.

"mm, missed you, too, my love."

you grin almost sheepishly when you say it, though he knows that doesn't take any sincerity away from the sentiment, especially when it brings heat to your cheeks, makes your smile so lovely.

my love. your love. his love.

choso can't help but smile with you, tilting up almost imperceptibly in search of your pretty lips again, yet you indulge him so easily, as if on instinct, as if you can read his mind as naturally as breathing.

you kiss him soft and slow, savoring the taste of him, the feel of him, as if you were memorizing his mouth all over again. the quiet moan he lets out, that you swallow up without hesitation, coaxing out more, more, more, makes you shiver inexplicably. you only let him go for mere fractions of a second to breathe, and neither of you could be happier to drown in each other, in the deep, passionate movements of your lips, your tongues, sharing breaths until you're lightheaded.

it's dizzying, how much he wants you. now, more than ever, but always. now, most, because it's the present - later he knows he'll want you even more than he ever has.

when you pull away a final time you're grinning devilishly, cheeks full with it and a shade darker with the rush of blood, lips wet and bitten an irresistible red that makes his mouth water even more. you've somehow migrated into his lap, legs on either side of him, fingers woven into his soft hair, his own hands caressing your back beneath your shirt and squeezing appreciatively at the thick of your thighs.

you see the lovesick look in his pretty eyes, clouded with desire and syrupy sweet, and can't help but chuckle quietly to yourself, though you must know you're not much better off.

"what do you want, darling?" you ask from mere centimeters away, tracing his plump bottom lip with your thumb, leaning in to kitten lick at it and swipe your combined spit away from the smooth skin.

choso nearly whimpers, his tongue darting out on instinct to follow the trace of where yours had been, his eyes glazing over even further. you know, of course you know.

you pull back a bit further, sitting up on his hips, hands propping you up on his chest. you had felt his cock stir a long, breathless moment before, and it ached now, hard and heavy against the heat of your center, confined beneath both your layers of clothing, twitching and throbbing for attention.

"you look like you want something, sweetheart," you purr, teasing, and the difference in your tone presently from when you'd first spoken, the dangerous gleam in your eyes now, is enough to make his head spin.

choso wets his lips again, desperation coating every syllable. "i want you."

you smile wide, satisfied, reward him with a slow roll of your hips that makes his jaw drop just a little. "yeah?"

"yes, i-" he cuts himself off with a gasp when you do it again, "-i want to make you feel good."

the sincerity, the wholeheartedness that floods his voice and the look in his eyes, how eager he always is to please you, always makes your heart melt. you pause, leaning back down to kiss him again, short and sweet, a small reminder of your overwhelming affection.

"you will, choso," you murmur against his lips, feel his whole body tremor with excitement and anticipation beneath you. "as long as it's you."

when you pull away again, he follows you, holds you close to his chest with big arms winding across your back, fingertips traversing over the smooth expanse of your skin. you smile when you capture his lips again, reluctant to part until he finally asks, "may i pleasure you?"

you can't help but giggle quietly at his politeness, charmed as you always are by how earnest he is in everything he does, a sort of genuine innocence in his actions and the way he carries himself that opposes his physicality and age. it never fails to send you reeling, heat blooming in your gut.

you nod easily, kiss him as if in answer. you nip at his perfectly petal-soft lips, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth before releasing it with a satisfied hum, grazing your teeth along the skin just to make him shiver. your fingers drift back up to his jaw, caress at the edges of it as you shift carefully up his body, straddling his stomach instead so you can stare down at him from a higher angle with a wanton smile.

"can i give you something first, darling?"

the hazy lust gleaming in his eyes intensifies as he blinks slowly, eyelids heavy under your own hungry gaze. he's breathing heavy from your kisses and the anticipation, chest heaving beneath one of your palms.

"please," choso breathes, ever so polite, the movement of his lips tickling the pad of your thumb when you trace over them again, hand gliding down to pinch his chin gently between your thumb and forefinger. there is no pressure behind your touch, merely a guide - support, because his body knows instinctively what to do, poised and ready.

your grin is nothing short of wicked. you can't help but lean down for a moment to peck at his lips again, before rising back up and pursing your own.

choso clutches at your waist with lightly trembling fingers, pretty lips parting so nicely as he opens up for you, tongue resting dutifully on his bottom lip. you splay your fingers out across his throat in a loose grip as he bares it just for you, thumb tracing over the edge of his jaw. the hand on his chest moves to tangle through his soft, soft hair, like silk between your fingers, and he looks up at you expectantly, eagerly, eyes shining with the thrill of it, the silent plea for you to take care of him.

it doesn't take you long to gather enough saliva. you watch him carefully, releasing it slowly to drip like syrup down onto his waiting tongue, stroking lovingly at his jaw with your thumb.

"good boy," you whisper sweetly when he swallows you down like it's nectar, and you feel his adam's apple bob beneath your palm. he shivers at the praise, tilts his chin up in that way again, hearts in his eyes and all across those pretty lips, slick with your spit and his own, searching for more of you, so you giggle softly and shift again to kiss him deeply.

when you render him breathless again, he speaks through soft pants. "i want you to-" -there's that hesitation, the pause before he can say what he truly wants, encouraged to continue when you peck lovingly at his pretty face- "-can you cum on my face?"

and who are you to deny him?

you nudge your nose against his fondly, already shoving at the flimsy waistband of your panties, giddy at his promise. "of course, darling," you breathe against his lips, swallow down his low groan as he helps you wriggle out of your underwear and slides his fingers up between your folds.

you're soaked - his long, elegant fingers glide easily along your slit, his thumb practically slipping over your clit and making you jolt.

choso doesn't bother much more after the initial touch - he's impatient, and feeling your sweetness on his hand isn't nearly enough to satiate him and only further delays what he really wants. you huff a little when he grabs at your thighs and hoists you up to nudge your pussy closer to his face, laughing softly at his eagerness and petting at his hair before positioning yourself properly, his head below you and between your knees.

before you can ask if he's even ready, choso pulls you down, kissing at the crease between your inner thigh before diving into your sweet, dripping cunt.

he groans appreciatively, deep and guttural, after giving your slit one long, slow lick, from your hole to your clit, punctuating it with a swirl of the tip of his tongue at the swollen bud, wrapping his lips around it to flick at it until you're whining and trying to squirm out of his hold from the intensity. choso holds you firm with those strong fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs, a smile playing at his lips when he finally releases your clit to lap up your sweet nectar instead.

he takes his time, savoring you, sliding his tongue smoothly along your folds and relishing how you mewl for him, at each gush of arousal he coaxes out only to lick up and moan with satisfaction. the vibrations of his deep voice against where you're most sensitive leaves you reeling, clutching at the headboard and his soft hair below you, back arching when he delves his tongue deeper, dipping into your entrance as far as he can go, his nose nudging at your clit in tandem.

"oh, fuck, baby," you whimper when he thrusts his tongue into you, shameless in his open enjoyment, whining along with you as you spout random praise, and bucking his hips into the air inadvertently.

he snakes one hand down to relieve some of the ache, squeezing desperately at his straining cock, your breathy cries of his name and the obscene, wet sound of him lapping up your slick like music to his ears. he could swear he sees heaven when you tug at his hair, when he withdraws his hand from himself in favor of urging you to start grinding on his face, two of his fingers slipping easily into your entrance.

your hips stutter first in uncertainty, concerned about him, like always, but choso doesn't loosen his hold, one hand clutching at your bottom and pushing you forward onto his flattened tongue. soon enough, with his fingers pumping in rhythm, it feels too good for you to resist, and you lose yourself on his hunger to taste you, to take from you until he's satisfied. your hips are moving wildly, chasing the sweet friction of his smooth tongue, the tip of his nose, the tremor his voice elicits when he moans so deeply, pleased at what he can do for you, how much pure pleasure only he can give you.

he knows your body so well, he can tell instantly when you're close - the choked up gasps, your muscles beginning to tense - he sucks ruefully on your clit once more, curling his fingers in just the right way to press into that sensitive spot inside you. he doesn't relent even when you throw your head back with a sharp cry of his name, hips shoving down on him and undoubtedly complicating his ability to breathe - no, instead, he doubles down, pulls his fingers back and forces his tongue as deep into your fluttering hole as he's able, just so he can feel your walls spasm around his tongue and greedily swallow down everything you gush out as you orgasm, completely lost in his brand of euphoria.

choso loses himself too, forgets about his own aching cock begging for release still confined in his pants - he could care less about breathing properly either - he licks into you with vigor, mesmerized by your sweet, pretty little pussy, until you're wriggling away from sensitivity, thighs quivering, weakly pushing at his fingers still gripping tightly at your cheeks (where he's surely left bruises in the shape of his fingertips, and the thought makes him shiver in delight).

when he finally lets you go, you collapse into bed beside him, rolling on your side to sling a shaking leg possessively over his waist, grinning gleefully up at him; the sight of his face, reddened with exertion, tainted all across with a mix of your arousal and his spit, hair mussed and sticking to his dampened forehead - gives you a whole new rush of giddiness. you're both breathing heavy, but despite that, you bring him closer with a hand on the nape of his neck. you run your tongue along the seam of his wet, red lips, shades darker and swollen with use, moaning softly at the taste of yourself, before licking into his mouth, sucking that capable, lovely tongue into your own mouth.

"oh, you're so sweet to me, aren't you?" you coo when you pull back, laughing breathlessly and swiping at the mess on his face with your fingers. "so lovely." you pepper kisses across his cheeks and nose as you go, nosing at his heated skin and delighting at his soft smile and the gooey look shining in his eyes, clearly lovestruck.

choso preens under your attention and praise, fingers twitching on the small of your back when you trail yours down the solid plane of his abdomen. "my love," you continue quietly with your nose pressed to his cheek, your tone so gentle yet palpable, your breath tickling his skin, making him shiver, "you're so good to me, so handsome too." he closes his eyes and can't help but whine helplessly when your hand slides under his waistband and fists his cock.

you thumb at the glistening head before pulling it out fully, glancing down just to catch a glimpse of how pretty you know it to be, thick and heavy in your hand, throbbing with need and already so wet with his excitement. you squeeze tighter at the base then, cooing at him once more when his whole body jolts at the sweet pressure. "oh, my poor baby." you kiss him again, pumping his cock simultaneously, eager to swallow up all the pleased little sounds he makes. "i'll take care of you, too, okay?"

choso just nods vigorously, eyebrows scrunching up adorably as you swirl your thumb over the tip of his cock again, flicking at the frenulum and toying with his sensitivity. he gasps out your name when you twist your hand on your downstroke, and you nip at his jaw playfully, so charmed by his reactions.

"you wanna cum inside me, baby?" you're back at his lips, biting lightly at them as you wait for him to compose himself enough to answer between heavy breaths, his fingers kneading restlessly at your waist. "i want you, choso, want you to fill me up nice and deep, like only you can."

he bucks up into your hand at that involuntarily, and it takes all his strength not to keep going lest he spill into your fist before he can even get between your legs again. "y-yes, please," he nearly whimpers, spurred on by another passionate kiss you grace him with, to switch positions and hover above you, on his knees between yours.

you pull at his top until he tugs it off and tosses it away carelessly, your fingers immediately tracing over the ridges of muscle along his chest, his abdomen, nearly purring with satisfaction when they flex and jump beneath your touch as he moves. you trace along his scars, too, etched into his otherwise smooth skin, cruel imperfections that you've already memorized, continuing your trail even when he bends to get closer to you, capturing your lips again like he can't bear to be even that far from you.

he moans so deliciously into your mouth when you find his dick again, wasting no time and pressing him against your pussy to coat him in your slick. he ruts against your folds, he can't help it, you're so warm and wet and heavenly, and he didn't know he could be so impatient.

"inside, baby," you murmur against his lips, breaking him out of his trance only to put him in another spell when you guide him to your entrance.

your back arches as he pushes into you, agonizingly slow despite how wet and wanting you already are, your muscles barely offering any sort of resistance. choso splits you open in every way, you think, his forehead pressed to yours, breathing you in just as deeply as he feeds into you, stretching you wide on the swollen crown of his dick and pinning you in place, hands fisting the sheets beside your head, his elbows locked behind your knees. you're taking him so nicely it's like your cunt is sucking him in, walls clutching so sweetly at his cock, as if you're made perfectly for him.

you sigh happily when he pulls back just a bit to thrust back in to the hilt, when he finally fills you so completely you think you can feel him lodged in your throat, throbbing with desire for you and hot, hot, hot. your eyelids droop with pleasure, watery with your blissful little smile as he pauses right there where you can feel the most of him, just to hold you even closer until you're sure there's not any possible space between you.

and there's nowhere else you'd rather be.

"feels good, love?" your words are heavy, thick with emotion and the overwhelming pleasure you're feeling, nearly slurred together with your adoration for him.

choso nods again, kisses at your cheeks and nose, nips at your pretty lips. when he looks at you again, you think his eyes hold stars in them for you, sparkling in his irises and falling across his cheeks. "s'good, darling, so good." he sounds just as intoxicated as you, raw and vulnerable, and you giggle softly and bring him back to your lips then, swiping tenderly at the skin just below those pretty eyes, at the tiny droplets of diamonds that escape them, at the stark black mark across his face.

"you're so beautiful, choso," you whisper, and his cheeks burn so furiously you wonder how your palms haven't been scorched by them, laughing quietly to yourself at the thought. it seems silly, but you can't be bothered to believe it is, not when he feels so good inside you, so snug and warm and lovely, and he's enveloping you so wholly in his embrace, and his heart beating erratically against your own feels all too much like you're home. safe, blissful.

choso wants to hold you forever. he wants to mold you to himself so that he never has to let you go, doesn't care in the least how irrational it may be, he loves how you feel, how you make him feel, just by being this close. he wants to tell you you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, he'll ever see all his life, and if he were to live another millennia, that your eyes may just hold all the answers in the universe - but he chokes on his words when your walls flutter around him, when you claw at his back and wordlessly urge him to start moving.

instead, he whispers, too, a broken, breathless confession, dripping with emotion, "i- i love you."

you gasp, whether from his revelation or the slow roll of his hips he isn't sure, but he is sure you heard him and know how sincere he is, breathing out a stuttered response just as ardently.

choso thinks he loses himself again, in the sweet clasp of your pussy, in your low moans and how your body moves for him, only pulling him closer, until he all but drowns in you, happily.

his pace is unhurried but undeniably deep, balls squishing up against your ass, savoring the tight heat of your walls around him, the sharp, fleeting pain of your nails raking across his back - he loves the sting, is too lost to wonder whether it seems wrong to. the wet sound as he pounds into you, so deep it takes your breath every time, nearly drives him into a frenzy, makes him want to make a bigger mess of the both of you.

he doesn't stray too long from your face, he loves your sultry, blissed out expressions just as much, loves every little reaction you give when he nips and pinches lightly at where he knows you're most sensitive, when the head of his cock hits undeniably deeper, teasing at that spot that drives you wild. he doesn't even pull back far enough to remove the shirt you're still wearing, instead rucking the hem up with rough fingers just so he can lick and suck at your nipples and make your back arch off the mattress.

"so pretty," he murmurs into your skin, almost to himself, but the deep cadence of his voice against you gives him away, makes you shiver. "my love, my love." he repeats it like he can't help himself, carves into you like he's trying to shape your perfect cunt to his dick, like he wants to forget how it feels so he can keep doing it for the first time again and again and again. you all but squeak when his pelvis grinds up against your swollen clit on every downstroke, breath caught in your throat when he licks at your pulse, squeezes at your thighs. he's everywhere, devouring every part of you, it seems, and you couldn't be happier to let him, to trust him so thoroughly with the softest, most vulnerable parts of you.

choso groans so deeply, it vibrates through your entire body, makes you shudder pleasantly. he finds your lips again, swivels his hips a little quicker, and you're panting lightly into his mouth, that little smirk shining through.

"close, baby?" you lick at his lips, fingers tugging at his hair. his pupils are blown charmingly wide, eyelids heavy as he only grunts in response, hips stuttering, cock twitching inside you - you laugh lightly, nibble at his bottom lip. "cum for me, handsome, i wanna feel you."

his next moan is so resonant, it shakes through him - and you by extension. he pulls out until only the flared head of his cock stays inside you, shifts a little higher on the bed, gravity stretching your legs even wider, hips lifting up along with his. when he plunges back in all the way in one smooth thrust, you nearly scream. the angle somehow makes him hit even deeper, the tip of his cock nudging at your cervix. you're mewling, grasping desperately at his shoulders, his biceps flexing with you trapped between them as he drives his cock deep into the sweet clutch of your cunt.

you're rendered speechless by the force of his thrusts, your whole body jostled by it, your insides undoubtedly battered.

the reminder of his silent strength makes you whine a little higher, like wordless praise spilling from your lips.

choso whispers out your name like it pains him, over and over as he chases his high, his dick spasming inside you within just a few more heavy, gut-wrenching thrusts. you reach up to weave your fingers into the roots of his soft hair and tug, back arching, and he gasps, pretty eyes rolling back in his head. in one startlingly deep stroke he's spilling inside you, pumping you full just as he'd promised, wave after wave pulsing into you, the feel of it making your walls clench and squeeze in turn. you whine along with him, hold him as close to you as you can, choso clutching onto you just as desperately, almost as if he's melting into you, until you're molded into one.

he ruts into you lazily until it's too much for him, until he feels raw with oversensitivity. he comes down panting heavily into your sweat-dampened skin, just as you start to languidly chase the sweet grind of the base of his cock against your swollen clit.

you're still stroking his hair, praising him softly, "good boy, so sweet to me," trailing gentle fingers across the planes of his back, almost as if in apology for where your nails had dug bright red lines into.

choso shivers blissfully with the aftershocks of pleasure, with the soft tickle of your fingers on his skin, and he feels insatiable. he presses wet lips onto wherever he can reach, up the line of your neck, your jaw, your pretty lips, and pulls back just for a moment to look at you. just as dazed as he feels, warm and rosy with love, eyes droopy and shiny with it, fluttering along your lashes and in the playful little smile on your lips.

oh, how he adores you.

he kisses you again, licking at your lips and sucking on your pretty pink tongue before drifting back down the way he came, dropping kisses all along your body with reverence. he spends precious time at your chest, finally sliding your shirt off and kneading at your breasts and sucking and nipping at each pert nipple until he's satisfied, until your voice catches in your throat from moaning.

when he has to pull out to continue down further where he truly wants to be, he bites his lip in displeasure at the loss of your warmth. but he's immediately appeased by the view before him, by the lewdness of his seed spilling forth from your hole, the way it leaks out and catches on your folds, the inside of your thighs.

choso almost instinctively slides his fingers through your pussy, scooping up what he can and pushing it back into you, plunging his fingers into your entrance in a futile attempt to keep it in. your fingers tighten almost painfully where they're woven in his hair, and wordlessly, he continues his trail of kisses down your stomach. he's handsome even in the mess of you, in the wreck you've both left of each other, and especially when he's down between your legs.

he presses his lips against your hip, nips at the supple flesh of your thighs.

"darling?" you question breathlessly, but he's so thoroughly lost in you he barely registers it as he suddenly laps at your swollen clit, his fingers still plugged up in the sweet clutch of your cunt.

your reaction is immediate, back arching and voice breaking on his name as he kisses and licks at your sweet pussy. his tongue flicks at your sensitive bud, teeth grazing at the hood of it before his lips wrap around it and he sucks, and you nearly scream his name. your hips start to buck up against his face, and he holds you down with a strong hand splayed across your hip, the other still occupied, fingers now pumping into you.

choso takes his time. his lips are laden with worship, his tongue reverent, gratuitous. he eats you out like he'd rather be doing nothing else for the rest of his life (he thinks that's true), like nothing makes him happier than feeling your walls hug at him, sucking him in so sweetly, your sweet nectar leaking out just for him to swallow up and savor. he licks his release clean from you just to mess you up again, just to make you whine and cry from pure pleasure, tears dripping from your eyes because your body can barely comprehend so much of it.

he hardly realizes it when he's rutting against the bed, hard once more just from eating you out again, his fingers now replaced with his tongue because he wants to taste from you directly, wants to feel it on his tongue when you clench up and cum just because of him.

and he hardly realizes when he cums too, almost instantly after you do, until his vision goes white and he whines against your pussy just as your velvet walls pulse and squeeze around his tongue, your release spilling into his greedy mouth, lips smacking lewdly as he laps it all up through both of your orgasms, filling him just as he'd filled you with his seed.

he loves giving to you, receiving from you. he's so tired of taking, weary of seeing destruction at his own hands.

when he sees the wreck he's made of you, your entire body trembling with the force of what only he can give you, he thinks he's found the measure of his own power.

and when you still reach out for him, kissing him like nothing else matters to you, he knows you have much more of it than he.

1K notes · View notes

gorejo · 2 years

Text

𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅

≡ gojo satoru. toji fushiguro. ryomen sukuna. noritoshi kamo. geto suguru. naoya zenin x f!reader

↳ no sophisticated way to say... mirror sex. each to their own, and how they like to hit it in front of a mirror. (not really most to least, but they all wouldn't miss the chance to)

tw/cw: unedited — legit wrote this without looking through it because i was so tired.... but smut. explicit language. unprotected, penetrative sex. degradative naoya's. sukuna has four arms and two cocks. double penetration with sukuna. toji calls himself daddy and puts his cum coated finger into your mouth. nipple pinching. teasing. blow job. gojo briefly blindfolds. you. fingering. cervix kissing but not really. naoya is tied up. reader called princess, angel, baby, babe, bitch (in naoya's), love, pretty, good girl. creampie. naoya gets fucked lmao.

✉ : hello !! first, ty nonnie for sending this. omg i contemplated so hard between geto and naoya, but i decided to just add them both in... so six guys yay!! i had so much fun writing this silly piece (˶ᵔᴗᵔ˶) but i hope you all can enjoy !!

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

Legs embracing his waist, ass flexed with each pulsing of his length into your caverns, the gush of your fluttering walls hypnotizing his conscious causing him to act beyond his normal reserve — unhinged and feral, his simple carnal lust that motivated his every move.

Blindfolded, your senses blared louder than normal — his touch, his kisses, his thrusts, his movements, his breathing, and his words sirened loud in your ears — every connection of your body with his felt like a burning flame across your skin.

“I want to s-see you,” you croaked out, the tremble of your lips easily mistaken for fear, but Gojo knew otherwise.

“Thought you liked being folded like this?” He choked out, tongue swiping against your collar bones, sweat dripping down his temple as he made his way up to your lips, hips thrusting harshly causing your breasts to move in its repetitive motion as he breathed out through his nose, groaning into your mouth with his cock deeply pressed inside of you, “but whatever you want baby,” he murmured.

“Shit because no matter,” grunting as he lifted you up, switching positions to have you kneeled in front of him, being careful to not disconnect with you, “how many fucking times,” his length shoved suddenly deeper, the lower portion of his abdomen hitting the plush of your ass, “you still manage to be so damn tight,” he growled into your ear, his hot breath steaming your face as his lips loosely bit your lobes, “I dont care what position, I’ll still fuck you good.”

“Satoru…” moaning out his name as he slowly moved his hips in upward motions, the tip of his cock hitting at your sweet spot, his lips softly kissing the back of your neck, “just like that…’toru ”

“Yea, this feels good?” Chuckling as his thickly padded palms groped your bosom, lightly pinching your swollen nipples as he molded your fat, “but it’s not enough right?” he teased, his thrusts still slow and agonizing.

“No no n-no! ngh…” You stammered, hands immediately reaching to grip his wrist, but your strength couldn’t compare, nor were you actually wanting any of this to end.

The thickness of his shaft further stretches you out as his fingers circle around your swollen clit while his cock continually probes inside. The warmth of your juices coating his long digits, giving him greater leverage to further press into your walls — pushing just to kiss centimeters away from your cervix, inches deep inside your pussy.

The tender kisses of his lips on your sweaty cheeks, making love with every fiber of your being as he held you in his arms, Satoru slowly untied your — his — blindfold, just enough to give you a tease of your reflection in front of you — caressed and loved.

“You wanted to see, baby,” he whispered in between kisses, his voice shackling your body in goosebumps as electricity ran through your veins, shooting straight to your core to flame your knot. With his hands squeezed between your closed thighs, arms flexed to show every crevice of his toned muscles on his forearm and biceps, indenting in at his triceps wherever his fingers circled around your hardened bud. Body thrusted forward from the force of his hips, with your lover staring straight into the mirror, his hollow cheeks placed next yours, his cerulean eyes faintly shielded by the fine edges of his soft white hair, whispering closely as he tightened his grip,

“Look carefully angel,” suddenly pushing you down, face falling flat onto the pillow he secretly placed before, his thick hands locking your arms behind your back as he gave a heavy push causing shockwaves to pulse through your body, stifling any sort of reaction,

“this is how you look, when I fuck you, pretty huh?”

𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

“Princess, you’re fucking drooling,” Toji’s chuckle resounded over the squelching splatters that radiated the room whenever his cock was shoved into your cunt. Purposefully spreading out your buttocks as he pushed himself inside of you, one leg propped to the side giving him more leverage to fuck you deeper, stronger as he watched your pulsing hole absorb his length as he stretched you full, harshly groaning as he felt you tremble underneath him, clenching tight on his cock as his cum trailed down your thigh, pooling in the sheets with the splatters of your juices against his balls.

A slight tremor leaves his body when you harshly clamp down on his thick cock, knocking the wind out of his lungs as he pulls forward, hovering over your smaller body. His hands automatically shooting to your abused pussy, drawing circles as he generously covers his two fingers with your slick, his calloused hand slowly trailing up to grip onto your breasts, pinching your hardened nipple to hear your pretty mewls, “hah fucking god… you like daddy’s cock that much, baby?”

“I-it’s too much! S-so full!” you screamed out, yet your voice was muffled into the pillow — face flat into the fabric, yet ass prettily perked up for him to pistol in his cock, perfectly creating surface area for his balls to slap against your clit.

Chuckling at himself as he looked forward, your heated body shamelessly withholding his force, breasts drooping low as it bounced to the tempo of his rabid thrusts. Your arms trembling as your fingers clenched onto the sheets, sweat covering your body as his hips met perfectly at the entrance to your pussy, “princess, look,” he ordered.

Incoherent, and simply dazed from being too fucked, his words fell flat to your ears as you moaned out his name, “Toji… n-no more.”

Wrong. You could.

Slamming his body on top of you, “ngh I- I can’t breathe!” you cried out as his body weight pulled you down into the mattress. His hips slapping against your body causing your ass to jiggle as you felt his cock venturing even further lengths, his ass clenching while his feet drove him deeper into your pulsing cunt. His tongue leveling up the back of your throat, lowly chuckling into your ear as you felt his two thick fingers — slimmy and rusty in flavor — suddenly play with your tongue, pulling your face up to have you watch yourself get fucked — couple inches shy from the mirror — absolutely drooling with your eyes faded in exhaustion, hands gripping onto his wrists, as your body pulsated forward with every heavy thrust he made,

“Look at how daddy fucks his baby girl, so cute huh?” Giving you a sloppy kiss to your cheek, his hot breath tickling your nostrils, his heavy body suffocating you of air, “now, watch yourself cum on daddy’s cock.”

𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀

“Fuck… gonna fill you all the way,” Sukuna groaned into your skin, lips feverishly pressed against the lining of your sweaty neck as one of your arms automatically shot back to grasp a hold of his fine hair, gripping tightly to pull on his scalp, while the other grasped onto his wrist, trembling as your fingers bore crescents into his inked skin, “s-slow down… p-please.”

Chuckling as he put his fingers into your mouth, swirling his digits against your hot tongue, his sharp nails careful to not cut your tender flesh, as he pulsed his cock into your cunt, “cute,” his voice was almost threatening, his red eyes glazed and strong, resembling that of a blazing fire just about to enlighten in flames with the right trigger.

With his fingers making their way down past your aching pussy, you felt the knot in your stomach — the burning and twirling of your inner organs — as you felt the familiar probing of his long, thick fingers into your other lonesome hole, clenching tight as he slowly entered one, two, three digits consecutively in. Massaging your inner ribbed walls, stretching you out fully while his cock pushed deeper into your womb, just centimeters close to hitting your cervix.

“Ah n-ngh!” No coherent words leaving your dry lips. You squirmed in his reign, hips moving in their own accord as he fingered your anus and fucked full, the slick of your prior cum dripping down his heavy balls and down his thighs.

“Open your eyes princess, let me show you something,” his voice suddenly sweet and eerily comforting as he brushed soft kisses to your neck and up to the base of your jaw.

Opening your eyes, heavily blinking to drain your lachrymose eyes of its tears, lips spread open in a delicate ‘O’ as you watched your helpless reflection being overwhelmed by the man — certainly a beast — behind you.

“Good girl,” he loosely chuckled into your cheeks, his chin pressed against your shoulder as he lowly groaned to reach below, coating his hand with your slick as he rubbed it against his length, slowly circling the rim of your pulsing hole, only to slowly penetrate through as he held you even tighter.

Your cries mixed in with his heavy groans, “too much!” you pleaded as he continually pushed you down on his length, only to receive a response back as you trembled in his arms, absorbing all of him inside of you — two cocks in — feeling every rivature and curve of his length twitching inside,

“No, it’s not too much princess.”

Picking up your helpless body to slam it right back into his cocks, breasts helplessly bouncing as your mouth gaped open, “not until I fill up every hole inside of you.”

𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎

It wasn’t usual for your boyfriend to prefer such a place to have sex, usually keeping it within the bedroom, mostly within the house — in the car if absolutely urgent. And in such desperate times, when his drive to fuck you raw, have you scream out his name as he tended to your needs, thighs lacing over his thin waist as he held you close, his lips brushing against your cheeks as he whispered repeatedly, “I love you, I fucking love you,” while his cock situated inside your fluttering walls… those were the times when he liked to fuck in front of a mirror — to grasp, to memorize, to contain all of you. To see in third perspective of the glory of sex, and the intimacy of what comes with being one; Kamo Noritoshi was a slave — a fucking slave in pleasing you.

“Shh… baby, don’t cry,” Kamo cooed into your ear, kissing your tears as his cock pushed deeper in, ass clenching and stomach flexing. Maybe he was a pervert, though he wouldn’t want to think of such. Maybe it was his erotic infatutation? Because despite seeing such sacred tears falling from your swollen eyes, knowing he should stop and let you breathe, his drive to push you off the edge, have you reach your climax over and over and over filled his desire, absolutely blinding him from the consciousness of him previously making you cum repeatedly before, “you’re so beautiful, so so beautiful…” is all he gasps out as his cock pools with more blood, further stretching you out.

“‘Toshi… n-no more,” you begged with your arms wrapped around his neck, teeth lightly biting into his skin, yet your legs were wrapped around his lower half, feet pushing his ass to give him no room to remove his cock out of your tantalizing grip.

“You okay, love?” he hushed, kissing your up your neck, praising you for being so good, taking him so well, loving you to the extent his heart could handle as he showered your face with open mouthed kisses, eventually making way to your swollen lips, “look love, look at how pretty you are,” he whispered as his kisses pushed your face to look to the side, “look at how well you’re taking my cock…”

Two bodies intertwined and connected as one — sticky, sweaty, heated.

And in the thick of the room, vision hazy from your tears with the aroma of sex filling your senses, Kamo was there.

“Fuck me harder,” you groaned out, watching his pacing increase from response, the slapping of his balls splattering out his cum from your aching hole, his abs flexing in as his face caves into the curve of your neck, “harder ‘Toshi!”

Panting with his chest pressed heavily against yours, Kamo reached below to hook your thighs to his arms, using his body weight to push your legs against your chest, folding you in half, allowing his cock to puncture further in, reaching depths you normally didn’t experience.

“Shit… I’m gonna cum,” his hot breath fanning over your face as his lips met with yours, tongues swirling against each other as spit trailed down the edge of your lips, “YN…” he moaned out while straightening out his legs, using his forearm to hold his weight, ass twitching as he gave his final thrust.

Setting his head to rest on the plush of your breasts, listening to your rapid heartbeats to calm his tumultuous chaos residing in his mind, wrapping his arms around your waist as his cock pulsed inside of you, holding — clinging onto — you like a lost child in need of his mother, Kamo opened his eyes to once again see the beauty of you holding him, caressing through his hair as you kissed the sides of his temple.

Maybe he was a pervert.

Or maybe it was love.

Maybe it was the combination of both mixed in with his idolatry to serve his goddess — his absolute deity that would never forsake him — an infatuation. Because he feels his cock growing again, and despite the pain of his aching, sensitive skin, he pushes his hips in to reach deep inside, listening to you moan out his name, reach out for him, want him… because he wanted to watch, memorize, absorb this over again, “you don’t know what power you have over me,” pushing his mildly erected length in, feeling the viscous remnants of his cum cream out of your hole with each push, “I’m a fucking animal in front of you, my love.”

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔

Sitting at the edge of the sofa, arms stretched back, hands placed on top of the plush backrest, chest exposed with his white collared shirt loosely draping his figure. Abs flexing with each increasingly staggered breath he elicited from every tender kiss you placed — from his collar bones to his stomach — tickling his skin with your tongue as he softly grazed your cheek with the back of his index.

“You want to do it here?” You questioned in between open mouthed kisses, hands traveling against his wide chest, softly playing with his perked nipples as they made their way down his abdomen, down to their destined place as you fondled his clothed erection, “not the bed?”

“Mhm, here,” Suguru lightly chuckled, the hue of his voice knotting up your organs causing you to immediately burn from just the tone alone, “want a good view of you.” Though his face sweetly smiled, his eyes told a different story — lust — a lascivious gaze through his dark iris’.

Interlocking his fingers with yours, stopping you from using your hands, “use your teeth,” he tenderly ordered, the edge of his lips lifted into a smirk. The dark glint in his eyes shining through his cool facade, the draping of his bangs lightly covering his face, with his loosely tight hair beautifully exposing his defined neck and jawline.

Spreading out his thighs further to have you situate in, nuzzling your nose against the hardened bulge of his clothed erection, taking a whiff of his natural scent — light with a mixture of cologne and skin — you took the clasp by your front incisors and pulled the zipper down to the end.

Looking up through your lashes, placing soft kisses to his constrained member, using your teeth to again pull down his briefs, the intertwining of your fingers feeling tighter as he lightly hitched his hips forward as the cold air brushed against his hot flesh, feeling a sudden pulse in his cock the moment your lips gently grazed against his sensitive skin.

Groaning forward, with his back arched as he cupped your face, zealously pushing his lips onto yours — urgent and needy, desperate and wanting — missing the chance to breathe, and forsaking the will to. “Just use your mouth,” he breathed out as he placed his thumb into your mouth, pushing against your tongue as he watched a trickle of your spit leave your lips, “fuck… let me see what this pretty mouth can do, yea?”

Taking position, leaning back with his arms placed behind the sofa, scooting his hips out to give you better leverage; his sharp eyes, and rosy cheeks, his furrowed brows and hefty breaths prompted you to start.

Swiping up from the base of his cock, leaving a soft kiss to his fiery head, swirling your tongue against his puffy slit, tasting the saltiness of his precum only to quickly flatten out your tongue before swallowing his length. Gagging as his tip hit the back of your throat, you felt his hand snake its way to cup the back of your head, pushing you further down as he groaned into the pleasure of your warm throat, “fuck… so tight,” Suguru gasped out with his head thrown back, his adam’s apple bobbing with each sharp swallow of his saliva pulling down his dry throat.

And when he opens his eyes, there he meets the reflection of you. Off in the corner of his gaze was a mirror placed reflecting a scene of your head bobbing as you sucked him in, ass nicely sculpted with your naked back exposed as you kneeled in front of him with his large hand caressing your head, pushing you deeper to take in his length combined with the squelching of your mouth as his head threatened to push past into your throat.

“Shit… baby… keep going… got the best fucking view from here.”

𝐍𝐀𝐎𝐘𝐀 𝐙𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍

“Untie me right now,” his chest heaving, his stomach curving in to flex his abs, hands gripping onto the tie that you placed above his head, chained against the railing of the bed, “YN — fuck….” his threatening voice dying out as he shot his head back into the pillow, throat pulsing out his thick veins, his face mildly red from asphyxiating himself from air, helplessly groaning as you watched him from above.

“You fucking talk,” grinding your ass into his pelvis, clenching hard as your velvet walls tightly embraced his length, your nails piercing into his chest, drawing long strokes of vibrant red onto his pale skin. And hovering over his body, your soft lips mere inches from his jeering face, smiling as you teased him of a kiss, “you talk so much for a fucking bottom, Naoya.”

“Hah!” He scoffed as his hips jerked up, causing the tip of his cock to hit just right at your sweet spot, his length caved inside of your warm caverns, “if you just wanted me to fuck you,” his knees propping up, and feet stationing onto the mattress, with his length pistoling repeatedly in and out of your pussy, balls slapping against your wet cunt, “you could’ve just asked,” Noaya teased back as he leaned forward to match his lips with yours.

Pulling out of the kiss with a string of saliva attaching you both, “yea? Watch closely, baby,” you chuckled as your eyes signaled for him to look above — a large mirror plastered onto the ceiling with the reflection of the carnal rendezvous. Your thumb brushing against his bruised lower lip as you simultaneously rolled your hips forcibly into his, muffling his gasping moans as you pushed against his attempted thrusts, bucking your hips inward to have his cock hit your walls just rightly, “so you can fuck yourself thinking about me next time,” you taunted with a pretty smile.

He was close. You heard his familiar haggard breaths, the hue of his skin turning faintly red, the usual tremble of his thighs as his eyes lightly rolled to the back of his skull, “you fucking think,” gasping as he fought to contain himself — fighting for his life to abstain from reaching his high — yet his helpless voice told otherwise, “a bitch like you can have any power over me?”

His eyes. His sharp eyes locked to the mirrored ceiling as he spewed out his curses.

Cock throbbing inside with each passing second as he watched you — your ass bouncing against his body, imagining just how far he’s inside of you, his feet drilling into the mattress as he feverishly bit onto his lips in frustration.

Yet he failed.

And just like always, falling weak to your reign, absolutely in denial over the power you had over him — his soul — he releases his seeds, groaning with his head pushed back into the pillow, seeing nothing but white and the constant ringing in his ears as he stuffed you full, his cum dripping out of your pussy as you pumped his length.

And gripping onto his cheeks, slowly gliding your hips in perfect waves, locking your gaze with his hazel eyes as he gasped out, “f-fuck…” from the overstimulation. Feeling the twitching of his cock inside of you, feet pressing into the mattress to hit deeper into your caverns, the splurts of his release coating your plush walls with his viscous seeds as he trembled beneath you, hands red and wrists bruised from the containment.Giggling as you licked up his throat, flipping your tongue on his chin just before pushing your lips into his as you simultaneously lifted your hips to release his cock, cum oozing out of your hole, landing on his body as his length twitched against your ass, “I’m sure I can, because I just fucked you.”

7K notes · View notes

senseichaos · 3 months

Note

Howdy howdy! I ADORED "You Can't Run. Hell. You Can't Even Hide" The balance between absolute fear, dizzy hypnotic confusion, and wide eyed admiration that the reader character holds for Vox is immaculate! Also them calling him Mister Vox is just Chef's kiss (it is WAY too hard to find xReader fics or even just fics in general where the honorific is Mister (C/N) and I love every one I find). The clothing change moment was probably my favorite, I'll always be a sucker for the representation of being broken and rebuilt in someone's image combined with the gift of pretty clothes. I keep going back to reread the whole story.

I know it's a oneshot, but since your requests are open, I figured I'd shoot my shot and ask if you would make a part two where Mister Vox just wrecks us, preferably sexually. We did leave off on him finding us trying to run away, do we not deserve to be punished for such an offense after all he's done for us? I also would love to see if/how much Vox has to push us to slowly become happy to be his, if that's something he wants (I could imagine having a rowdy unwilling runaway as his possession would get frustrating after awhile and be terrible for his image). There's honestly so much potential for what could happen next, and even though I could stew in my imagination, I would very much love to be at the mercy of your interpretation of the funky TV man a little longer.

That said, take your time, I know you've gotten a huge influx of Hazbin requests, hell I wouldn't be surprised if someone else already requested something similar to what I requested. I also understand if you can't/don't want to fulfill this request for any reason, that's what makes it a request. No matter what, you're an amazing writer and I hope you have a wonderful day!

💙✨

AAAAAAH!! I love you sm! When I saw this request I knew I had to do it at some point! I'm giving you the name 💙 anon from now on so if you request again I know it's you!

_______

Forever and always

(part 2 to: You can't run. Hell, you can't hide either)

Summary: After that day you attempted to escape from Vox, you had become somewhat accustomed to this new life you are forced to be living. Or you were until Vox gives you your first day off, causing you to find something out that would change how you live forever.

Genre: Smut, Angst, Horror (?)

Warnings: Non-Con, Yandere behavior, Possessive behavior, Sadism, Masochism, Electric shocks, Mind control, Drugging, Love potion, Vox is an asshole, Hurtful language, forced, gilded cage, soul contracts, unprotected sex (DONT), Vox owns reader, dacryphilia, let me know if I missed any!!

(not proof read)

--------

That day you attempted to escape from your gilded cage you wished to escape again, though vox had managed to continue his control. Even when he tugged you back by your electric leash you felt that horrid sinking feeling. This was it. For the rest of eternity as you know it Vox has you. He owns you, your soul, your body, your life; or well, lack thereof. You couldn't run from him no matter what you did, he practically controls the pride ring, keeping you tethered there like a puppy on a leash is simple to him. He has eyes everywhere. You cannot hide anywhere.

Recently Mister Vox has become a lot more... Touchy. Those fleeting touches of his fingers against your back, poking against your chin, pressing into your neck, swiping against your bottom, touching against your bosom. There is an odd burning feeling to it, you don't want to enjoy Mister Vox touching you in such ways, you don't want to enjoy it when he sucks his teeth at you or licks his tongue against his gums. But you do. You can't quench that desire. Especially when he'd moved you into his room from your apartment building. He hadn't made you share a bed with him, thank Lucifer, but he had made you sleep near enough to him that you can tell when he's.. pleasuring himself. Almost as if he wants you to hear him.

You and Mister Vox have never been better, besides from such hurdles. You stay obedient no matter how badly you wish to escape his arms. To cut all of his tight bounds on your body and run away. You'd figure out how, one day, you would.

"Good morning my dear! Did you have a gratifying sleep?" This is how most mornings go, Mister Vox will wake you with a poke if your side and a coffee in hand, already fully dressed and done up. You've always considered yourself a light sleeper, so you never know how he manages to make you a coffee every morning without so much as stirring you awake. You smile, nodding softly as you pry your eyes from his two dimensional face.

"Thank you Mister Vox, uhm.. did you have a good sleep as well?" You ask, taking a sip of the perfectly made coffee. Vox smiles, nodding as he takes a seat on the side of your bed.

"Of course, my dear. So, I know you have been working very hard recently... So I've decided to give you the day off!" Mister Vox declares, outstretching his hands as he gives you a manic smile. A day off? Why? This has to be a test. he's just going to leave you.. alone? For a whole day? This has to be fake, a joke, a flook.

"Oh my dear don't look so surprised! You've been a very good girl recently so I thought you deserved a day off," Mister Vox pauses, looking up at the roof for a second before peering back at you. "Now don't think this means we don't have rules, you are to stay in here for the day. If you want to go shopping I have to accompany you, alright? But I do have an appointment in an hour so it won't be for long,"

"Remember, I have eyes everywhere.."

You laugh awkwardly, shrinking into your own figure.

"I know Mister Vox.. I wouldn't forget," You can't stop that sorrow from entering your voice, but quickly you put on that mask of a smile once again. Mister Vox clasps his hands together, that red dripping from his maw again. "Great! Now I'll see you soon, be a good girl for me, hm?" He says, ruffling your hair atop your head with a condescending gaze.

"Yes Mister Vox," you reply simply, watching as he disappears in Into a blue line of electricity, shooting into the camera.

Fuck. Now what?

You can't remember the last time you were given this type of freedom, even if it wasn't a lot of freedom. Often you were tethered to Vox's side. Everyone in the building knows that you belong to Vox. Everyone outside of the building probably knows this, too.

There's this odd feeling in your stomach, this odd feeling as if you were floating. It happened every time you drank your morning coffee, but you'd always assumed it was just that feeling of awakening from slumber. But today, oh today it is stronger than ever before. It's as if you can feel every nerve in your body be rewired, every single hair on your body stand on end. Every sensation is doubled.

What the fuck was in this coffee? What is this euphoria? What is this yearning.. this yearning for Vox? You suddenly wish he was here, with you, holding you, calling you his good girl.. m

Shaking your head to rid yourself of such thoughts, you stand from your bed, fixing the large blue shirt you wear (that vox often asks you to wear when you sleep) as you walk to the kitchen.

The kitchen in Mister Vox's room is a large area just off to the side of his desk space, lined with many kitchen appliances and red cabinets. You are determined to figure out what he's putting in your coffee, what's making you feel so emotional. Needy. Awful. You scan the room, finding the coffee machine in the corner of the room with a couple bags next to it. Coffee, sugar, creamer... Nothing suspicious yet, it seems. Crouching down, you look open the cabinets beneath the coffee machine. Looking through the half full area.

Then you saw it, a small vial hidden behind a spare bag of creamer labeled 'Valentino and Velvette: Love potion'.

Terror shoots through you, causing you to drop the vial to the floor. It shatters everywhere, leaving the pink liquid to seep into the tiles below. He's drugging you. All this time, you feeling this want for him, burning at his touch, listening to him as he jerks himself off late at night. You wanting him to do things to you. It's all part of his plan to make you his, completely. To make you want to be his.

Burning tears fall down your cheeks, humoring you as you stand on shaky legs from the tile. What do you do? Now more than ever you want an out, a loophole, a way to take your soul back from his greedy claws. Anxiety, terror, hurt, worry, pain.

You want to prevent yourself from doing anything drastic, you really do. But all you can feel is this pain, this pain as you run on your feet to the balcony door. Trying your hardest to pry open the doors as they rattle loudly, shaking them, pulling them, pushing them. This evil man can't keep you here for any longer. You'd do anything to leave, ruin yourself for him, do something awful, make yourself less attractive to him.

Nausea. Headache. Your knees buckle as an electric blue overtakes your vision. What is this? You can't breathe, Vox. Vox. Help. Your head clouds, words fill your brain and you feel yourself being wrapped up by sharp claws. You can't scream. Help me. Please.

"You really think it's that easy?" Mister Vox.

"I can't believe I trusted you alone, even for a minute. After all I've done for you, as well. After I gave you a life some would dream for. Stupid girl." He sounds mad, horridly mad. Regretful. Throbbing takes over your body as sound waves film your ears. You can feel him lift you into his arms, placing you down onto a soft surface harshly.

"How am I supposed to make you understand this? You're mine,"

Your vision slowly comes back, until all you can see is him as he stares at you from above. His eyes are dark, domineering, needing. He's ready to take. What is he doing? All you can feel is his claw as it travels up your middle, between the valley of your breasts, stopping at the middle of your neck.

"Now, my dear? Are you going to let me teach you a lesson? For being such a brat?" You gasp, feeling his hand as it circles around your neck, effectively taking some air from your lungs. You shake your head, attempting to move your heavy legs from him with wet teary eyes.

"Nonono! Get off, please, get off!" You cry, writhing in his grasp. He sighs, rolling his eyes as he clicks his fingers. Suddenly a pulse of electricity goes through you, causing a shock to blur your eyes and pull a scream from you.

"Every time you try anything I'm shocking you, Dove. Don't try to escape from me, it's not going to work," he grins, laughing at your frightened teary eyes. "I can do whatever I want to you, my dear! I fucking own you!!" He growls, using his hand that isn't around your neck to push your thighs to your chest, revealing your bare pussy from beneath your oversized shirt.

"No please.. I'll do anything..?"

"Oh I'm sorry dear, but this is what I want more than anything right now.. maybe you should have thought of this before making such a racket and alerting everyone in the building, hm?" He says, dragging his clawed finger through your building wetness. He finally takes his hand from your neck, instead using it to keep your thighs in place as he pinches your clit between his sharp claws.

"Ah! Mister Vox.. hurts..!" You wail, wiping your tears from your eyes as he continues to abuse your sensitive bud between his fingers. He chuckles looking up at you as you gasp in pain.

"Hah! Wail all you want, dear, no one can save you." Vox guffaws, finally taking his claws from your clit. Only to plunge them into your aching hole without warning. You moan out, feeling the sharpness of them inside of you as he curls his fingers into your g-spot.

Mister Vox revels in your wails of pain and pleasure, fucking you with his clawed fingers harsh and fast. His claws are surely are scratching you from the Inside, he can tell by the way your hands tremble and clasp over your lips.

You can't help but feel good. This masochism of yours that forces it's way into you. Every scratch of his fingers inside of you just makes you want to cum. You can't give him that satisfaction, you can't let him know that you are enjoying every second of his claws thrusting inside of you. This is awful. You hate it. You hate that you love it.

"Is my little dove enjoying this? Awe.. to scared to admit you fucking love this?" Vox laughs sadistically, giving you an extremely harsh thrust of his fingers into your g-spot. You squeal, vision going white for a moment as his fingers go at this manic speed. You feel your orgasm build, wishing to break through the walls and release. But you can't let it, you won't let him have that. You'll never let him have that feeling knowing he's won.

"If you don't cum I'll fucking ruin you, dove."

You gasp and choke on saliva, clawing on the bedsheets below as he forces you to orgasm. There's no getting out. He knows that you are trying not to cum. And he won't let it happen.

"Yes.. Mister Vox.." you say softly, hole clenching around his fingers as your orgasm crashes over you in waves. Vox makes sure to drag it out, giving you slow rhythmic thrusts of his fingers to watch your body contract and writhe with pleasure.

"Good dove, listening to commands for me," He says softly, stroking the side of your cheek as he kneels between your legs. You want to pull away, but once again that burning and yearning feeling fills you. That stupid potion had an effect, and you can tell. From the way you feel a dizzy want when he looks at you to the wetness that continues to build between your thighs.

"Now, I'm going to fuck you so hard.." He laughs so himself, smiling crazily as he presses his hand to his face. "I'm gonna fuck you SO FUCKING hard, you won't even remember who I am anymore! How does that sound, my little slut?" Your lower lip wobbles as more tears threaten to fall from your eyes.

"Awful.." you whisper.

Another strong electric shock goes through you, causing you to scream out Mister Vox's name in pain as your body is left shaking and aching.

From the corner of your eye, you see Vox unzipping his fly.

"Wrong answer! Haha! Wrong fucking answer stupid slut," He growls, pressing the tip of his cock to your hole without a care. There something wrong with him, he's acting more crazy than ever before. He's getting off on your fear, getting off on your pain, getting off on knowing you can't do anything but be his.

With a loud slap, Vox sinks his entire length into you. You scream, clutching onto the bedsheets for dear life as he looms over you. He doesn't even give you a moment to let you rest, immediately setting a ruthless pace with his hips into yours. Every thrust causes your vision to go spotty with the pure force he drives his hips with, groaning with every thrust as he stares completely into your face as it scrunches in a pleasurable pain.

"S'too much! M-Mister vox It hurts!" You cry, reaching out to press your hands against his shoulders, clawing into his coat. You don't even care anymore, you want at least a small bit of comfort from these strong unforgiving thrusts. Vox chuckles at this, leaning down closer so he can capture your lips in a (forced) yet passionate kiss.

His long electric blue tongue immediately finds its way into your gob, passionately fornicating it against your own as his thrusts send you into a sort of floaty state. Vox maps the entirety of your mouth, tasting every crevice of you from your lips to the back of your throat. He thrusts almost ravenously like a dog, tip of his cock sometimes painfully pressing against your cervix.

Pulling away, Mister Vox looks Into your eyes, revelling in the way you claw at his back. You whimper and moan loudly, eyes fluttering closed as a tear falls down your cheek. He kisses it away, looking up at your closed eyes with a grin.

"Open your eyes, dove. Look at me while I fuck you." You cry out, opening your eyes for him so you can see him look at you with pleasure.

"Y-yes Mister- Ah! Vox.."

He chuckles, thrusting into you extremely hard. You can see the bulge of his cock in your stomach, poking against your skin in such a way you almost want to touch it.

"I'd fucking breed you if I could, fill your filthy cunt with all my little babies so then you can't even dream of leaving.. but I can imagine," Vox rambles, taking your cheek into his hand so he can look at you longingly- and almost affectionately. If it weren't for the position you're in you'd almost be enjoying this moment.

"Mister Vox!" You cry, back arching as your orgasm begins to prod at your stomach.

"Hm?" He asks, grunting as he thrusts into you.

"Can I cum? Please! Please please please.." You beg, legs quivering wildly. Vox chuckles, giving you an adoring look as you bite your lower lip.

"Awe look at you! Asking Mister Vox to cum and everything.." Vox begins, biting his lip as you sputter on a moan. "Of course you can, dove. Let go so I can fuck my cum into you.."

You scream his name when you cum, digging your nails so hard into his back you're sure his coat has tears in it.

You'd given up. Well and truly. You wouldn't admit it. But you've finally accepted it. You belong to Mister Vox. Forever and always.

Forever and Always.

Vox gives you one last thrust, emptying his cum into you with a moan from his own lips. Eyebrows furrowed in pleasure, Vox drags out his orgasm by serving you a few more small quick thrusts, making sure every last drop is inside of you.

But when he has, he doesn't pull out.

"Mister Vox.. pull out.." you whimper, wiggling your hips against him.

"Haha! As if. I said i'd fuck my cum into you, didn't I? I haven't done that yet.. okay?" He asks, stroking a hand through your hair.

"Yes Mister Vox."

#proship #senseichaos #antishippers dni #senseichaosdrabbles #proship fanfiction #hazbin hotel #lovely anon #senseichaosanons #💙 anon #vox #yandere vox #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #vox x reader #vox x reader smut #vox x reader angst #angst

311 notes · View notes

thyme-in-a-bubble · 9 months

Text

the breakfast

lilac, chapter two

a/n: when my love, @chvoswxtch, asked me to bring the horny energy of miss patty from gilmore girls, of course I fucking did it, I'm not a criminal, that's what we all deserve

summary: “well, hello stranger.”

warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, lumberjack AU, pete castiglione era, past domestic violence, crazy ex trope, slow burn, wholesome villagers being adorable

word count: 2373

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

previous chapter | series masterlist | next chapter

masterlist | join my taglist

The Lilac Inn wasn’t just an inn to the citizens of Dunbrook. It was its beating heart, a hub for the small community to gather.

As the town’s only culinary establishment, the residents had always made a habit of eating a fair amount of their meals in the inn’s dining room, the door to the kitchen often staying wide open so that Harvey wouldn’t have to leave the stove in order to catch all of the juicy small-town gossip that had people blabbering.

“Dad, did you turn off my alarm?” you snapped as soon as your scurrying feet carried you into the bustling kitchen.

Not lifting his eyes from the loaf of bread he was currently slicing, your dad simply countered with a jovial, “well, good morning to you too, sleeping beauty!”

“Dad,” you sighed, jaw clenching at his usual demeanour, the paralysing dream you’d just roused from not setting you up to be in the right mood for such a level of positivity.

“You just looked like you could use the extra hour or two,” a smile still warm on his lips, the middle-aged man defensively raised his hands.

“But I’m supposed to help you out,” your eyes followed his movements as he trotted towards the stove, “I can’t do that if I’m asleep.”

“Exactly,” your dad passed by a hook full of tangled textiles and tossed you an apron, “that’s why I let you go a little longer so that you wouldn’t doze off on me before lunchtime arrives.”

“I wouldn’t have dozed off…” you mumbled pettily as you tied the linen around your waist. Exhaling lowly as you watched him crack two eggs into a sizzling skillet, you asked, “what can I do?”

“Well for starters,” he tossed the shells into a small scrap bowl to his side, “these were the last eggs, so if you could go get some more out by the front desk, that would be superb.”

“Why do you have eggs on the front desk?”

“Because Otto’s chickens are laying a lot right now and so he told me he’d give me some today when he swung by for breakfast.”

“Wait, Sheriff Nilsen has chickens now?”

“Yeah, has for a long time,” the decade of you not living here grew palpable, “he usually just drops the extra ones off here, so they should already be there because I just took his order two minutes ago.”

“Alright,” you disappeared through the back door and snaked down the narrow corridor, ending up behind the messy reception area.

Your eyes didn’t have to search for long before you noticed the petite basket, brimming with beige eggs, resting on the top of the counter right beside the small rolodex that displayed what date it was. Grasping it in your hand, your vision momentarily drifted down to the small, framed photo nuzzled behind the ever-open logbook. Sitting on the swing that still hung from one of the sturdy trees out back, head adorably posed in a tiny palm, there a 7-year-old version of you sat, forever frozen in that singular moment, beaming up at the camera.

“Ah!” a sharp voice boomed as you heard the front door swing shut, “oh my goodness, oh my god! Y/n!”

Raising your chin, your eyes grew wide at the rotund woman beaming at you from the doormat, “miss Rays!” you hurried around the front desk, “oh my god, it’s been so long!”

Capturing you in a hug, she pressed your form into her bosom, “darling, we’re not in bed together, call me Donna.”

Pulling back with a light chuckle, your eyes fluttered over her features, “you haven’t changed one bit,” her lipstick still a fiery shade red and hair still short and feathery framing her plump cheeks.

“You however have,” she clasped your free hand in hers, guiding your figure to give her a good view, “oh, do a little spin for me,” you bashfully obliged with a giggle, “yes! Honey, who is this woman, what have you done with the adorable little girl I used to tutor?”

To your knowledge, Dunbrook never really had a proper school, but for as long as you could recall Donna had always operated as a teacher to the handful of children that called the reclusive mountain village their home. Even though it was just run out of her living room, she had still been the best teacher you’d ever had, her patient way rivalling any of the professors you had to endure when you went off for college. As a matter of fact, she had been the person who’d pushed you to send in the application, praising that you were too clever not to go out and change the world.

“Oh, stop it,” you sighed light-heartedly, a chuckle still bubbling out of your chest as you shifted the subject away from your own appearance, “so, you still come here for breakfast?”

“Of course, I do, you’ve tasted your father’s cooking,” readjusting her purse, she hooked her arm in yours, “a real shame that he’s never accepted any of my offers of becoming your stepmom,” she leaned in to add as you crossed over the threshold into the dinner room, “I could have been served all my meals in bed like some Egyptian queen!”

“I’m sure you can easily find another fellow that can handle himself in the kitchen,” the click-clack of her heels came to a stop by one of the small round tables, her eyes briefly taking in the other patrons before a slight crease appeared betwixt her polished brows.

“Oh, darn it,” her vision stayed glued to the table in the corner as she lowered herself onto her seat, “he’s not sitting at his usual table…”

“Who?”

“The eye candy over there,” she tilted her chin in the direction of the broad, muted flannel-clad back of the man sitting by the window furthest down at the bottom of the room, “you see, I asked your dear father to always reserve this spot for me just so that I can have a great view, if you know what I mean…” gulping down the rest of his coffee, the man’s head tilted enough for you to recognise whom the rugged looking visage belonged to, “oh boy, I tell you, if I was 30 years younger…”

Haven assumed that you’d never again run into the stranger who’d helped you just the day before, a warm flutter suddenly trickled down your spine, “like that’s ever stopped you before,” you pointed out, snapping your eyes out of their trance, “so, uh, do you know what you want to eat or do you just want some coffee or something while you think on it?” you took two steps towards the oblong table where mismatched teacups where stacked and the steam of a few thermoses, all containing a different hot beverage then the next, billowed out.

“Some coffee would be lovely,” she smiled as you with one hand snatched up a mug and the decanter labelled as such, “and some oatmeal if you don’t mind, sweetie.”

Promptly pouring her a cup, you then signed off with a wink, “you got it,” before your vision landed upon the latest of Donna’s abundant infatuations once more.

Attempting to make the short journey seem spontaneous and effortless, you bounced from table to table, topping off people's cups, before reaching the final one.

Drawing in a deep breath, your embarrassingly giddy voice then found his ears, “well, hello stranger.”

Eyes flickering away from the newspaper sprawled out before him, a look of shock washed over his gruff features as he glanced up at you, “oh, hi.”

“Pete–, it is Pete, right?” you checked, slight mortification beginning to brew within your belly.

“Yes, ma'am,” his head nodded ever so slightly.

“Do you want a refill, Pete?” you savoured the taste of his name on your tongue.

“Sorry?” his brows furrowed at your offer.

“Your coffee,” you pointed with the hand that clutched the handle of the thermos, “do you want some more?”

“Oh,” he breathed, though the puzzled look didn’t seem to fade, “yes, always.”

Leaning in slightly over the newspaper, you filled up the drained mug, only a murky ring at the bottom indicating what it had previously contained, “and can I get you something to eat as well?”

Eyes narrowing, he stared up at you, “is your vacation really already so boring that you got a job here or what?”

“Oh,” you couldn’t help but breathe out a light chuckle as you answered, “I’m not on vacation and I guess, kinda,” staring back into his eyes as you attempted to repeat your question, “so, do you want any–,” though before you could finish the sentence, out pranced your father, a plate of food balanced in his palm.

“2 eggs sunny side up and some sourdough toast, as per usual,” he sang as his long arm came down to slice the air between your forms, placing the dish upon the table.

Briefly catching his eye, Pete then offered a polite nod of gratitude, “thank you,” folding the paper up and scooting the meal closer.

Feeling the small basket of eggs disappear from your grip, you blinked back at your father as he softly requested in your ear, “honey, could you give me a hand in the back when you’re done out here?”

“Sure, dad,” you flashed him a smile before watching him disappear once more.

Feet still glued to the floorboards right by Pete’s table, your vision then returned to him as his deep voice washed over you, “so, you’re Harvey’s kid, then?”

“Yep, that’s my dad,” your balance briefly shifted as you rocked on the balls of your feet, “thank you, by the way, for yesterday.”

“Oh, it’s no problem,” his fork punctured one of the golden yokes, “how’s your car looking?”

“I don’t really know yet. The local mechanic is taking a look today, so fingers crossed it’s not anything too catastrophic,” you felt your palms begin to sweat as he simply stared up at you in silence, “anyhow,” you averted your gaze nervously, “I’ll stop bothering you, let eat in peace,” you nearly bumped into the chair behind you as you backed up towards the kitchen, the near accident not managing to draw any words out of him, only the hint of a smile twitched at the corner of his lips, “see you around, I guess…”

“Hey, dad?”

Briefly raising his eyes from the logbook cracked open on the wooden counter, he glanced up at you as you bounced down the wide staircase, “yeah, pumpkin?”

Hand tracing the railing, with the aid of the grip, you swung your form around the last post as you ascended the final step, “did you know that the hot water doesn’t work? Like at all.”

“Yeah, that and about a million other things around here,” he sighed, vision returning to the ledger as you rested your folded-up arms upon the top of the reception, “this is a beautiful historic building… and what I mean by that is that there are too many things that either don’t work the way they should or at all. I am not a millionaire, honey. If I was, then the issues wouldn’t be piling up the way that they are…”

Bottom lip snug between your teeth, your mind raced a moment before you quietly theorised, “exactly how long is that list?”

Eyes racing to find your eyes, your father joked, “why? Did you become a contractor while living in New York or something?”

“No, but I was always the handy one out of the two of us,” you noted before your shoulders raised in an innocent shrug, “how hard could it be?”

“Let me get this right,” he raised a palm up between you as his eyes crinkled even further, “you’re telling me you wanna try and patch this place up?”

“Well, it couldn’t hurt the business side of things. When was the last time you booked out more than two rooms at a time here?”

“Oh, no, no,” the moustachioed man then began to shake his head, “you’re not turning this place into some fake, glossy tourist attraction.”

Swinging around to his side of the counter, you assured him, “hey, I’m not saying let's flood this place with tourists, but maybe just a handful more?” tilting your head in an attempt to catch his gaze that had now returned to the open book, “just enough to make ends meet, perhaps also enough to at some point hire someone else so that you won’t work yourself to death…”

Eyes frozen on the page before him, a long exhale then flowed from his lungs as he deliberated.

“Alright, fine, yeah, I guess that wouldn’t be that bad…” he tried to downplay the smile that blossomed upon his lips.

Spine pressed against the edge of the front desk, you then braced with your palms and hauled yourself up onto the spot that was just clear enough for you to sit there without knocking any knickknacks over.

“So,” you drew out, searching for a new topic to explore, “Donna seems to be quite set on that guy Pete to be her new husband, huh?”

“Oh, yeah,” Harvey chortled, “but you know her, she’s like a dog spotting a pheasant every time she sees a new man. I think genuinely I might be the only person in town who isn’t either terrified of him or has some desire to sleep with him.”

“How long has he been here anyway?”

“Eh,” he glanced up at the stained glass adorning the front door as he thought, “maybe a year or two? He mostly keeps to himself, lives up in a cabin in the woods and only really comes down here to either provide some firewood to whoever needs it or have some coffee,” vision landing on you, he then noted, “you however seemed to have broken through to him quite quickly. Took me like 5 months to get anything more than a grunt of recognition out of him.”

“Oh,” you couldn’t stop your eyebrows as they promptly rose up, “well, he kinda helped me the day that I got here. He was the guy I caught a ride with…”

#lea’s writing #lilac series #lumberjack!frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle imagine #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle fic #the punisher fic #frank castle fanfiction #the punisher x reader #frank castle fluff #frank castle series #lumberjack au

451 notes · View notes