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kpopnstarwars · 23 days

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Atonement: Feyd-Rautha x Reader

A/N: fic i wrote with @triluvial 's lovely idea

tw: 18+, smut but pretty soft, oral (f recieving), so so so so much angst, fluff after tho dw, swearing, hints of sa and pedophilia from the baron, baron is also creepy to reader but not explicitly, u gotta bear with my yapping in the beginning but it gets good i promise, inkpie

wc: 3.9k

headcanons for this universe

When you married Feyd-Rautha, you were warned of many things. His cruelty, both in and out of the bedroom, his bloodlust, his uncontrollable rage, his violence, his complete and utter lack of mercy. They told you he was psychotic, he was a cold blooded murderer, he was insatiable and that you’d be lucky to last a year with him, and yet, they never cautioned you of his sheer, unerring indifference.

Before your marriage, you fancied that he’d be like fire; raging, searing to touch. You went as far as to wish to tame his inferno. Late at night, when you could not sleep and doubt wreathed your thoughts, you also considered that he’d be like ice, like the colour of his piercing eyes, glacial and cold, devoid of anything soft or sweet.

As a child, you saw him fight in the arena. There he blazed with passion, his victor’s smile a cruel curve upon his face, his knife blade stained dark with fresh blood: he was mesmerising. At that time you were beginning to understand that your future had been sold to this violent man, and you resented your parents for it - now you realise that it went deeper than that, that it was rooted in generations of religion, of whisperings of the Bene Gesserit. Still, even then, you found the way he burned intriguing, and you were drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

But you were wrong. He turned out to be neither fire nor ice, just stingingly, dismissively apathetic. His eyes slide right over you when he happens to pass you in the corridors, as if you’re lower than a servant, lower than the rare rats that survive Giedi Prime’s conditions. You suspected your marriage would be painful, wedded to a man such as he was, but you didn’t think it would be this damn lonely.

You wished he hated you.

That way, at least you’d mean something to your husband. At least then vehement, savage emotion would rise within his gaze whenever he looked at you, not that horrible, polarising blankness. You wish you disgusted him, because then he’d at least he’d speak his mind - you had learnt that he spoke with brutal honesty, uncaring of the consequences.

Maybe to him, that’s all you are. A consequence of being high born, of being the na-Baron. You mean nothing to him, and he treats you as such; to him, you are less than the speck of dust on the floor, less than a grain of sand in his beloved arena.

It’s not that you wish for him to dote on you, nor love you or devote himself to you. You just wish he would look you in the eye and feel something; you’d rather him stare at you in revulsion and call you names that you can’t even think up yourself than the dead, lifeless detachment that clouds his face when he sees you in your shared chambers.

Feyd-Rautha has never laid a hand on you in violence; in fact he rarely touches you at all. The last, and only time he kissed was during the wedding day, and he makes no moves to be in bodily contact with you any more than he has to be. You are obliged to produce an heir from him, yet even in these infrequent encounters it seems as if it is a chore for him - he takes no pleasure in your body nor does he try to pleasure you, and he makes no sound when he takes you, staying as long as it takes for his seed to fill your womb before leaving without a word. On those nights, your thighs tremble as you stumble to the bathroom, only allowing your tears to fall once the shower water is searing on your skin.

During the first month of your marriage, you did everything in your power to please him. You thought maybe you weren’t pretty enough for him, maybe you were not desirable as a wife, so you always smiled at him, made an effort to fill the silence that pervaded the air around him, bringing up topics you knew he would enjoy, like the arena, like his love for knives and duels. To even that he would not reply, rebutting your questions with monosyllables or simply ignoring you. You stopped once he began to leave the room while you were mid sentence.

It is now your fourth month locked in this marriage with an uncaring man, and all you feel is bleak, crushing resignation. Somehow, Feyd-Rautha seems to take more interest in conversing with his brother than you.

You wonder if he has forgotten your name. He addresses you simply as ‘wife’ - that, and nothing more, the title leaving his lips like an accusatory curse, reminding you that if you did not serve a purpose to him, and if decorum did not restrain him, he’d have disposed of you by now, either by slitting your throat or simply abandoning you outside the palace grounds, not even bothering to end you himself.

The palace in question is lonely, but you feel the loneliest when you lay awake at night, shivering on your side of the bed as Feyd-Rautha slumbers to your right. Tears always prick your eyes during those moments, but you stifle them, afraid that you’ll rouse him with your crying; you do not know what you’ve done to garner his mistrust, but many times you’ve glimpsed the knife he keeps beneath his pillow, the cold blade glinting in the moonlight.

Often you wonder if he has a secret lover, and that is why he does not bother with you. You wake up sometimes and he is gone, but soon you realised that he would visit his concubines, especially after he had bred you. You would finish your shower, unable to wash off the feel that you were dirty, you were just an animal, a mindless thing to produce an heir for him, and he would be lounging in the antechambers of your quarters, ignoring your presence with the three harpies wrapped around him, whispering in his ears and caressing his moonlight skin. They accompanied him everywhere he wished, even in public, and to begin with, you felt humiliated that he would so explicitly show that you were not to his satisfaction.

Now, it just makes the solitude even worse.

You find solace in no one. More than once, you have walked in on the servants laughing behind your back, and as it became evident your husband was uninterested in you, they did not hide their mocking. The Baron’s other nephew you hardly saw, and the Baron himself terrified you: there was something in the way that he stared at you, his beady eyes glittering from where they were set deep within his putrid flesh, that made you feel more soiled than even after Feyd-Rautha took you.

So you remain isolated, speaking only when spoken to, drifting through the palace’s wide, dark hallways like a ghoul, a mourning spectre. You can barely remember your life before, just wisps and fleeting flashes of colour that ridicule rather than comfort you.

To Feyd, it is obvious who you are. A spy, commanded by his uncle to report every single one of his doings to you; he cannot slip up once around you, cannot reveal his weaknesses, that he is desperate to be loved, to be seen as someone whose only use is not war. He sees the way his uncle looks at you, hungry for information you do not have because he does not impart it, the way the Baron comments on you and the way you flinch at his words, pretending that you do not report to him.

Feyd is determined in his resolve to give nothing away. His uncle has held power over him since he was young, he refuses to give him even an inch over him now. He still has nightmares of it, which he wakes up from with his pale skin sheened in clammy sweat, clammy like the hands of his uncle.

Sometimes, he sees the tears in your eyes after he fucks you. The first time, he almost stopped, almost asked you where it hurt, but you turned away before he could, acting, always acting; acting when you smile graciously at him, acting when you ask him what his favourite type of blade is, what his favourite form of swordsmanship is. You are good at pretending, but of course you are - his uncle is the Baron, a man who bathes in power. No doubt he would get only the best of spies.

Tonight, you are not where you normally are. At this hour, you are usually asleep, or feigning it in the very least, curled up small on your side of the mattress, yet the bed is still made, the sheets unrumpled and smoothed down as they were this morning. Feyd thinks that maybe he might catch you reporting to his uncle, so he strides out of your shared chambers, pausing in the doorway to listen carefully; as a boy, he hunted in forests that have now been chopped down and industrialised, but he has maintained his keen ears long after the last wild plant on Giedi Prime’s surface choked on the fumes of pollution.

There’s a soft noise, barely perceptible, that echoes down the corridor to his right. Silently, he tracks it down the labyrinthine passages of the palace, servants scurrying out of his warpath, bowing their heads to him - he wonders if they too report to his uncle, if they travel now to his quarters to inform him of his beloved nephew’s whereabouts.

Feyd wishes he and Rabban were brothers first before rivals. Then he could have someone to rely on, someone who he trusted in this palace built on lies.

Pausing, Feyd cocks his head. You huddle in a crumpled heap at the end of the corridor, your knees hugged tightly to your chest, head low as if under a crushing weight. It occurs to him that maybe the Baron was displeased with your efforts to gain information and made it known to you - a pang of pity tugs at him, for he knows what his uncle’s wrath is like. At least you have been spared from the sole thing worse than that - the Baron’s thirst.

‘What are you doing, wife?’

Your head snaps up, Feyd-Rautha’s unfeeling voice kindling a rare burst of temper from you. Is it not evident to him what you are doing? Or is he just too blind to see the tears streaking down your cheeks? Your words are injected with venom when you speak, and you hope that it stings him for leaving you alone in this cold, dark place.

‘So now I am of concern to you?’

Feyd is taken aback by the indignant arch of your brows, the resentment displayed in your eyes. It takes him a moment to register the harshness lacing your voice - you have never addressed him in this way - and another to digest your words. There’s a bleakness in your wet, tear stained face as you stare up at him, and shock too, as if you did not expect yourself to speak against him this way.

Something clicks into place.

Feyd recognises that look in your eyes. He recognises it, because he’s seen it in the mirror a hundred times before; haunted, harrowed, lonely. He remembers nights when he trembled beneath the cold sheets of his bed, when he was small enough that he felt like he was drowning in the black satin, his eyes wide as the fabric seemed to wend around his limbs, tying him there as he lay fearful of everyone, fearful that his uncle would summon him. Even young, he was so terribly aware of not knowing who he could trust and who would turn to the Baron, bearing information like knives to split open his childish skin and spill his guts on the freezing stone floor.

It broke him. He is barely a shell of a sentient being, repressed emotions wreathing like ghosts around his frame, his eyes hollow, his heart decaying. In his fear, he was blinded, and he pushed you to the place where he had been all those years ago, so terribly, terribly alone - you are stronger than him, for lasting this long.

Sharp, plunging, dread sinks in his stomach, weighs down his soul; he has done unspeakable things to you, treated you like a dog, like a whore - worse. How can you look at him without hatred in your eyes, spite?

Bile rises in his throat, his heart seized by a dark, burning anger. He has done this to you, he has slashed your skin and left you bleeding, and yet all you did was try to please him. In an effort to save himself, he trampled you under foot; in order to keep you out, he left you surrounded by shadows. Feyd has never hated himself so much, has never despised who he has become with this much furor.

Slowly, he crouches before you. Eyes wide, you shrink away, misreading the direction of his rage, flinching when he reaches out a hand. Pressing your back against the wall behind you, you turn your head away from him, fear causing tears to spill down your cheeks: he sees the way you will the stone to swallow you up, knows the feeling.

‘Please don’t hurt me,’ you choke out, hands trembling uncontrollably.

Something deep within Feyd’s soul withers and dies at your words. Forcing his jaw to unclench, his hands to release the fists they held, he shoves down his anger. The fury is for later, for when he has made things right - for now it is you that is his priority. Too late, a voice whispers in his ears, too late, too late, too late -

Gods, he deserves to burn at the fucking stake for this. He deserves eternal hell for this, he deserves worse. He is a fool: a blind, blundering fool, stuffed to the brim with paranoia and cynicism.

He sucks in a breath. ‘I will not hurt you. You have my word, whatever it is worth to you. I - I have made an irredeemable mistake, I - ’

After his first sentence, you have not heard him. Tears of relief soak your face, and you whisper needless apologies for them; it is an arrow through his heart that you fear him so - yet the pain is where it is due, justifiable for the way he has shamed you, belittled you.

‘May I - may I touch you, my wife?’

You do not know why you nod in reply of your husband’s strange request, but the moment you do, strong arms pull you into a solid chest, and a sob leaves you - he is so warm, warm enough to banish the seeping cold embedded in your bones, warm enough to let your sorrow flow anew, soaking his shirt as your hands bunch in its fabric, so that if he is cruel enough to leave you here, at least he will have to fight to do so. You have not been held in a long time.

Each of your shuddering sobs is a knife blade twisting in Feyd’s spirit. He lets the pain wash over him, clings to the way you burrow into his arms, a kind creature in the embrace of a monster. At one point, in the throes of your crying, you beat at his chest, telling him that you hate him, and he takes it with a bowed head, stroking your hair and holding you tighter once you exhaust yourself; this is only a fraction of his atonement.

You fall asleep in his arms. He carries you back to your quarters, and only once the door is closed behind him does he let his tears mingle with yours. Keeping you cradled to his chest like a child, he pours a glass of water for you to drink in the morning, knowing you will be dehydrated; he sets it on your bedside table before laying you down on the mattress.

You don’t let go of him, even in your sleep. His heart clenches, tight in his chest, and he drops a kiss in your hair before lying down beside you.

He believes he will love you, if you will let him.

Consciousness leaks slowly into your mind, and you blink, squinting through the beam of light that filters in through the curtains. From your months spent here, you’ve realised that Giedi Prime’s atmosphere is normally churned up with violent storms and choked with pollution, so this ray of sun that falls against your pillow, warming your face is far from unwanted - nor is the pale forearm tucked around your waist, firmly so, but not trapping you either.

Your husband’s chest fits snugly against your back, his breath warm and steady against your skin; his fingers splay out across your stomach, gentle, communicating so many things that were left unsaid. Vaguely, you remember falling asleep, nestled against his chest, tears drying on your cheeks.

When you roll over, you’re unsurprised that he’s already awake. With blue eyes softened by the sunlight, he regards you, fingers settled at the small of your waist. Something clouds his gaze, and he shifts, propping himself up on his elbows.

‘I owe you an explanation.’

You wait silently, unperturbed by the way he clenches his jaw. He vowed to you last night that he would not hurt you, and you trust that. Wordlessly, his lips open, then close, and you patiently watch him, far too well acquainted with how this man struggles to let down his guard - even now, you cannot read the twisting of his features, the way his eyes squint as he looks at you.

‘I - I thought you were a spy sent by my uncle,’ he finally confesses. ‘My uncle… when I was younger, he,’

Reaching out, you cup his jaw in your hand, running your thumb along his cheekbone until he relaxes. You see the battle in his eyes, to let go, to tell you the knowledge that he thinks you deserve, but you see with it the years of hurt, of solitude. Something hopeful, something beautiful blossoms within you - the realisation that this wounded beast before you is someone that you could grow to love; you want him to bare his scars to you, those that are long healed and those that still seep with blood.

‘All in good time, Feyd,’ you assure him quietly.

He sighs, touches his lips against your palm. ‘I am sorry, my wife.’

Slipping your hand down to grip his shoulder, you lean closer towards him so you can kiss him. An anguished sound leaves him, and you see clearly how he realises that he has wronged you, how it pains him, and yet how the taste of you awakens something tender within him - you marvel at it, that it has survived, buried within him for so long. Perhaps he will let you love him.

Feyd is neither forward nor insatiable in the way he kisses you. In fact, he pulls away first, moving to get up from the bed despite the way your hands grip his shoulders, and you almost doubt that he wants you before you glimpse the longing in his eyes that lingers before he pushes it down. You wonder if this man knows how to make love or if he just knows how to fuck, you wonder if he feels the same molten feeling in his stomach that you feel and that is why his movements are tinged with nerves as he gently escapes your grasp. It is clear to you: he does not want to scare you.

‘Must you go?’ You ask, tugging at his fingers.

He tilts his head. ‘I don’t know if you want me here, after what I have inflicted upon you.’

A streak of bravery takes ahold of you. ‘Please, Feyd, I want you.’

You delight at the fire that ignites in his eyes upon your words. He wastes no time in returning to your side, dropping a sweet tasting kiss to your lips before taking your chin in his hand, eyes searching yours as he sits between your thighs.

‘Tell me if you want to stop,’ he says. ‘Yes?’

‘Yes,’ you echo, blood heating your cheeks.

Feyd kisses you again, giving you time to rescind your reply if you want, but you just tug at the hem of his shirt, drinking in his sculpted chest when he pulls the black cloth over his head. Delicately, he trails his lips down your skin as he undresses you, his broad hands warm where they encircle your waist, holding you flush to him as his calloused palms explore your body, skimming over your spine and caressing your breasts before settling on your thighs and pulling them open.

You’re terribly aware of how wet you are when his eyes settle on your pussy. Instinctively, your knees tip inwards, your face growing hot at the hunger in his gaze, but his broad shoulders block your legs from closing, followed closely by his hands which gently push them back open. He smiles at the blush high on your cheeks, rubbing his thumb over your ankle in order to put you at ease.

The sound you make when he pushes his fingers into your cunt and curls them almost makes Feyd moan. You tremble for him, bashful, and he can feel himself rock hard against the mattress, aching for the tight clamp of your velvet walls. He wants to bury himself between your thighs, and so he does, your sweet slick exquisite on his tongue - he presses kisses like butterflies to your thighs, your hips, worshipping you as his fingers pump in and out of you to the same pace as your heaving chest.

You look beautiful, gilded by the sunlight, lower lip trapped between your teeth, but he doesn’t miss the way you grip the sheets with one hand, the other clapped over your mouth, panting as he pleases you. Stroking your thigh, he pauses, licking your slick off his lips.

‘Let me hear you,’ he bids.

You blush again but obey him, tremors wracking your body as he sucks on your clit, laving his tongue over it until you throw your head back, eyes rolling as you come, your honeyed moans and hot release exquisite upon his senses. He wants more, needs more of the taste of you, but you tug at his shoulders, whining for his cock, and he’d rather die than deny you.

The way you say his name when he buries himself inside you sets his soul on fire. You look beautiful beneath him, shaking and whimpering from the hot pulse of his length, clawing at his shoulders until he wears red marks that he’s proud to bear, moaning into his mouth when he kisses you. It seems you cannot get enough of him, and Feyd is more than fine with that because he finds himself addicted to the feel of you under his hands, begging him for more.

Feyd remains entranced long after he comes inside you, with you, your cunt spasming around him. You draw close to him, intertwining your legs with his as he kisses your face, your neck, your chest, making sure he has not hurt you, making sure you are sated. Curling your fingers under his jaw, stopping him, you look him in the eye and smile before kissing him, and he finds himself mesmerised again by you.

He is certain you will let him love you. He is yours.

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jockbroski34 · 2 months

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The Jockrooms

I hated gym class. I wasn't athletic and I didn’t like playing sports. Worst of all, I was stuck with the dumb jocks in my class. Today, one of them, Kyle, threw a dodgeball right at my face. The force was immense. As the ball collided with me with the speed of a bullet train, I felt myself lose my balance and I tumbled onto the ground. I sat on the ground in a daze, my head spinning from the raw power exerted from the ball. If he threw it any harder, I’d be sent to the nurse.

Kyle was one of the tallest guys in the school, towering at an impressive 6’4, and he was just as strong as he was tall. He was huge and he made sure that everyone knew it. He was proof that God picked favorites in terms of genetics. The guy had pretty much everything, except for a working brain. He had little problem asserting dominance on those he viewed as weaker than him. To him, I was yet another easy target with my wimpy constitution.

His jock friends cheered and high-fived him for how savagely he destroyed me. Our gym teacher did nothing to discourage his aggressive behavior, but I wouldn’t expect any less from the football coach. Those were his boys after all. They could probably get away with murder and he’d still cover for them. I sat down on the sidelines, covering my swollen cheek, as I was forced to watch Kyle and his goons dominate the rest of my team.

After what felt like an eternity, the teacher dismissed us to go change and I was relieved. I was still covering my cheek, bruised from the dodgeball that was lobbed at me. I sat down on the bench and opened my locker to change my clothes. I felt a hand bump me as Kyle and his entourage walked past me.

“Sorry about that, bro,” he said, in a condescending manner. “You’re supposed to dodge the ball, not get hit by it. That’s why they call it dodgeball.” I had to admit, that’s the smartest he’s ever sounded.

“Whatever, you dumb jock,” I scoffed, ignoring his “advice” as he and his jock friends walked by. I wasn’t sure if they were snickering at his lame attempt for a joke or at me, but I didn’t really care. I doubt that they had much for brains either, with only sports and sex being the only thing keeping their testosterone-ridden minds running.

I glared over at Kyle while he was changing. I had to give him credit. He was very handsome, and he knew it, but that just made me hate him even more. He was a guy who people either loved or hated, but his arrogant fuckboy attitude would be a turn-off for anyone who wasn’t as shallow as him. I began to wonder why he had to be the one gifted with such a nice body. If I was as strong as him, what would I do?

I finished changing into my regular school attire, but I felt the urge to go to the bathroom. By the time I finished emptying my bladder, the locker room was completely empty. Amidst the ghost town, something caught my eye.

I noticed a door that wasn’t there earlier at the end of the hallway opposite of me. It looked out of place compared to anything I’ve seen in the school. It was crimson with a silver knob. I could hear something coming from the other side of the door, but I couldn’t make out anything. It didn’t sound like construction.

For some reason, I almost felt like it was calling out to me. Even though I needed to get to my next class, I needed to know what was behind the door. My curiosity got the best of me as I put my hand on the handle. It was warm, but not enough to burn my hand. I hesitated for a moment before opening the door and I took my first steps in.

I tried to gather my bearings in this foreign room. The room was very warm, steamy almost, with the smell of sweat lingering in the air. It smelled like our locker room and the heat was far too much, almost like a sauna. I knew I wouldn’t last long in this heat, so I figured it was best to head back to class. I turned around, but instead of reaching for the door, I walked face first into a wall. …This was where I came from, right?

“Hello? Helloooo!” I shouted, hoping someone would come to my rescue. The only voice that responded was my own as my words echoed throughout the room. I sighed. Looks like I’ll have to find my own way out.

I realized that this would not be easy as I looked ahead. I saw rows of lockers all around me and to my horror, the maze stretched out further than I could possibly imagine. This room alone looked larger than the school itself! Why did the school need this many lockers? I decided to follow the line of lockers to find out if there was an exit at the end. I started to hear a buzzing sound, not from the sounds of the lights, but from a different source, along with a voice so quiet that I couldn’t understand what it was saying. I honestly felt like I was hallucinating. Perhaps the ball Kyle threw at me actually put me in a coma.

I followed the row of lockers, the numbers increasing with every step. The bold red lockers complemented the dark walls and white ceiling. As I walked forward, I was tempted by turns and corners, filled with even more lockers. I did not want to risk getting even more lost so I simply walked as close to a straight line as possible. I found myself sweating profusely, drenching my T-shirt and jeans. As I was getting more and more sweaty, I was also getting dehydrated, and there seemed to be no sign of any water fountains. I was surprised that they had not installed any, but that wasn’t even the weirdest thing because nothing made sense here.

My heart sunk as I entered an empty room, a dead end. If whoever built this place had any sense of interior design, there would be a door here. I observed my surroundings, but there seemed to be no sign of any way out. This was going to be longer than I thought. I realized I would have to give an explanation to my teacher about why I was so late, but she would never believe an excuse like this. That is, if I can even find a way out of here. I looked down, surprised to find a bottle of some sort. It looked to be some sort of beverage. It looked to be a sandy brown. I would’ve preferred…no…I desperately needed water, but I would be a fool to ignore any amount of hydration.

I untwisted the cap, and was surprised by the strange smell of the liquid. It didn’t smell foul, but it didn’t smell sweet either. I closed my eyes and took a sip, but I grimaced at the mixture of bitterness and saltiness. The chalky taste lingered in my mouth, but at least it made me feel more alert. Despite the unpleasant taste, I knew it was better than nothing, so I chugged the bottle before dropping it on the ground, making sure not to miss any drop. To my surprise, I felt more full of energy than I ever had before. But for some reason, as my body was starting to digest the drink, I felt as though the room was shrinking before my eyes. Wait, was I getting taller? Maybe this place is messing with my head. To be honest, I wouldn’t mind being a couple inches taller. Maybe Kyle would stop picking on me if I was on his level.

The downside, however, was that I was starting to feel even more sweaty to the point that my clothes were now flooded to the point of no return. I knew they would smell of sweat forever no matter how many times I washed them, so I figured that stripping would be the better option. I can always change back into my gym clothes when I get back. I desperately hoped that I was all alone here so no one would see me in this embarrassing state. I looked at the locker at the end of the room. 1000. The numbers went up to at least 1000? This had to be some kind of sick joke. I was frustrated, but I knew I had to retrace my steps in order to find a way out of here.

A strange idea entered my head after walking into several more dead ends, seemingly out of nowhere. If I went to my own locker, would I find something there? It sounded like a stupid idea since I would miss out on other potential paths, but it just felt right. Besides, I had no other leads. My locker number was 0136. I continued walking back trying to test if my hypothesis was correct. My body was trying to fight back against my exhaustion and my mind was trying to stop itself from being drowned out by the subliminal noise. It felt like this place was messing with me in some way. I had to find a way out of here.

Eventually, my eyes lit up as I turned a corner to find lockers numbered in the 0100s. I felt my body guiding me until I found a locker that appeared to be left open. All of the others were closed, so maybe it had some significance? 0133…0134…0135…0136! I chuckled at the coincidence that my locker would be the one that was different like I knew it would be. Inside, I found yet another one of those same drinks from before, a piece of paper, and a…red jockstrap? I chugged the drink desperate to feel hydrated. For some reason, it tasted better than I remembered. The paper appeared to be some kind of riddle.

“Only this way is right.”

“The combination will show you the light.”

Turns out I was right to come this way. For some reason, it seems like this room was made specifically for me. I was more curious about the second line. “The combination will show you the light.” If my locker number was what led me here, then surely my locker combination would be the next hint. 05-13-34. 51334? I shuddered, knowing that my journey would be a lot longer than I had anticipated. Hopefully this helps me escape from this hell.

I started to wonder who wrote this, but I didn’t even know who built this room in the first place. None of this makes any sense. I might not even be in school anymore. This could be some sort of pocket dimension. I could be dreaming, or I could be in a coma. I looked back in the locker, my eyes fixated on the red jockstrap. It looked like it had already been worn and was a size too big for my skinny frame, but for some reason, I felt an urge to put it on. I stripped out of my dripping boxers and put on the jockstrap.

To my surprise, it actually fit perfectly around my crotch area. I expected to feel uncomfortable, but instead I felt liberated. If only there was a mirror in here. My cock bulged as it stretched out the red fabric. I could’ve sworn it looked bigger, but I knew I was just imagining things. Regardless, I felt faster and full of stamina and virility.

I was not an athlete though. Only the jocks wore jockstraps, and I hated them, but I couldn’t even remember why. Why was I so mad at Kyle earlier? My memories of today started to blur. I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t remember anything. I had no comprehension of time anymore. Who knows how long I have been in here. I sprinted ahead down the hallway, with a newfound sense of energy that I had never felt before, as I needed to find locker 51334. The heavy sound of my big feet created a steady rhythm, almost like a drum. My body seemed to move on its own like it was on autopilot.

As I ran forward, the audio grew louder, yet the words remained just as shrouded as they were before. Despite that, I felt like I started to understand the words deep down. A weird contradiction, I know. Wherever the source of the noise was, it had to be coming from that direction. I knew in my heart that this was the right way.

I kept on going for what could’ve been hours. Who even knows at this point. The concept of time was foreign to this place. If you told me I was gone for a week, I’d believe you. I kept on finding the same drinks from earlier on benches scattered around. They were the only thing keeping my head in the game. They gave me strength, but eventually I stopped seeing them as I became reminded by the intense heat of the room and of all the dead ends I had run into. I had to be in the 40000s as I began to feel fatigue again and it felt like my body was finally about to give in. My body felt sore and swollen as if I was still recovering from a workout. Workout? Since when did I care about the gym? Maybe this jockstrap was rubbing off on me more than I thought. But I’ll never be like Kyle or the other jocks, I assured myself.

I kept going. My body was pushing itself to the limit, while my mind started to wander. I became worried that I was gonna miss the game that was on tonight. Me and the bros were going to watch it together and I didn’t want to miss it. I couldn’t even comprehend how unnatural these thoughts felt. I should be thinking about playing the new update for my favorite MMO, not watching sports. But bros always come first…

I felt like I was going crazy, like this giant locker room maze was having an effect on me. I was awakened from my trance by a sudden realization. I needed to get to practice. It was like an alarm clock went off in my head. The last thing I wanted was to get dropped from the team due to poor attendance. This renewed sense of urgency was what kept me going instead of passing out from the heat and exhaustion.

At long last, I was greeted by a room that was surprisingly familiar to me. It felt like a second home to me. It was like the actual locker room in my school, but on a larger scale. I looked at the number next to me. 50000. This had to be the right way. I was almost there. The background noise was at its loudest here, but I still could not find any source, but at this point I didn’t mind it. It honestly helped me calm down a little. I checked every locker in this large room, until I saw it. 51334. It was half open, so I pried it open, with a sense of strength that I had never felt before. Inside the locker, I found another note and a larger bottle of the same drink. I gulped every drop down like I had just found an oasis. This one tasted better even compared to the rest. I read the note, hoping to be free from my prison.

“Inside the locker you will hide”

“The way back is on the flipped side”

I had to get in the locker? It was a weird instruction, but I followed the orders. I was surprised I was able to fit into it with my bulky build. I turned to the other side to read what it said. My eyes widened as I felt a sense of dread run down my spine.

“Close the door but don’t be shocked”

“When you wake up, you’ll be a jock!”

Shit, I didn’t want to become one of the jocks! I valued my intelligence too much to stoop down to their level. But it was already too late as the door shut itself on its own and I felt the ground below me vibrate. Was this truly the only way out or was I doomed to join them from the start? I tried to break my way free, but my strength dwindled as my eyes dulled and I passed out from exhaustion.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I woke up on one of the benches to the sound of metal and heavy chatter. To my relief, I was finally back in the real world. The football team was getting ready for practice. Damn, I really did miss the whole day. To make things worse, Kyle was standing right over me. Great. Despite everything though, I actually kinda missed him. That was probably the first sign that something was very wrong with me.

“Bro, wake up!” he said as he shook me. I looked down. I was dripping in sweat and I was wearing only my jockstrap. The fact that I was wearing the same red jockstrap was proof that it wasn’t a dream. “You alright dude? Coach says you were passed out here for hours!”

I regained my consciousness, surprised to see him concerned for me. “Bro, you’ll never guess what happened. I was in this, like, weird maze, dude. Lockers everywhere.” I was genuinely shocked by the words that came out of my mouth. I sounded like a total dudebro.

“Bro, are you high? What are you talking about?” Kyle chuckled at how absurd I sounded. I felt embarrassed because I honestly sounded as stupid as him.

“I’m not lying, bro! There was a door right there!” I got up and pointed towards where the door should be. It wasn’t there. I looked like I was insane.

“You sure you’re okay after gym, bro? I figured you’d catch that dodgeball since you’re such a good wide receiver. Must’ve gone too hard. Practice should help clear your head.”

“Practice? Wide receiver? What the fuck are you talking about?” I didn’t play any sports. Before today, I didn’t even know any teams outside of famous ones and the ones local to us. I didn’t know any positions, any rules, or any players. If that was the case, then why did it all feel so familiar to me?

“Did you lose your memory or some shit? Let me refresh you, bro. You play football and you’re our wide receiver. You hang out with me and the boys every day. You’re a total jock, bro. You’re hardly a genius, but surely that rings a bell, right dude?” My eyes became fixated on his charming blue eyes, and I felt myself sink into them as if they were the ocean, as he reminded me about my place in the world. Finally, things started to make sense…but…

What the fuck? You hated Kyle. You didn’t play football. You weren’t friends! But for some reason, that didn’t seem right.

You loved Kyle. He was one of your best friends. You guys played football together. You guys basically ruled the school. You didn’t need to think much because you compensated with raw strength and power. Brawn over brains, bro. You were a jock and you always will be one.

“Huhu…Now you’re making sense bro,” I chuckled. I only now realized how much I changed, with how deep my voice was. How much of a cocky douchebag I looked with that smirk plastered on my face. How much bigger and stronger and taller I was. How toned and perfect every muscle in my jock body was. I should hate this, but why does it feel so good? “I had a dream that I was someone else. A total nerd, bro. It was awful.”

“That person never existed. This is who you were and always will be. Just think back to when we met, bro.” He said it with his usual cocky grin, but I felt no malice from it. I assumed he was gaslighting me into believing that I lived a different life, but he seemed genuine. I remembered him cracking up at one of my dumb jokes at practice and we started hanging out both in and out of school. Memories of the practices and football games and parties we shared filled my mind and I smiled as I looked fondly back on those days. No…I shouldn’t remember this. But for some reason, it all felt real to me, like I accidentally stumbled into some parallel universe where I was one of Kyle’s jock bros.

I felt any semblance of my former self lose control as my jock self remembered that he was the only me. I was an intruder in my jock body, someone that was never there and shouldn’t be there. I felt my thoughts slow down as my new self started overwriting any old memories with his own, and I started to remember who I really was, a jock. I wanted to die inside, watching me become another asshole jock just like Kyle, but as I was fading away, I started to remember why I liked being a jock so much in the first place. I got to be big, strong, and popular. I could fuck anyone I wanted with my massive cock. Who cared if I was a little dense? Definitely outweighed being a fucking nerd. I knew it was the jock in me talking, but it didn’t matter anymore because that’s all I was now. My cock bulged further in my jockstrap as my conscious mind was engulfed by my real self.

“Sorry bro, it’s just been a crazy day. Let's get ready for practice.”

“You’re going to practice in just that? Haven’t gotten off yet today, bro?” Kyle chuckled, pointing at my red jockstrap, which was already leaking with precum. I became embarrassed as I noticed the damp stain on my favorite jockstrap. And that Kyle was staring right at my 9 inch bulge.

“Nah, bro. I gotta get changed. Why are you looking at my dick, bro?” I became defensive, not comfortable with one of my bros staring at my erect cock. Kyle was hot and all, but this just felt wrong to me.

Kyle stammered, looking for an excuse. I could’ve sworn that his bulge grew as well in his tight football pants. “I just never realized how big it is, bro. No homo though.” He snickered, trying to ease the sexual tension. “Come on, Coach will be pissed if we take too long. Probably will make us run extra laps.” Before we left, I took one look in the mirror to admire my awesome body before joining Kyle and the others.

I had been playing football ever since I was in middle school so it’s no surprise that I was a natural. I worked up a serious sweat, but it was nothing I wasn’t used to with Coach’s exercises. He worked us to the bone every day. When I came home, my mom was cooking dinner and she asked me how practice was, and I told her good as usual with a smile on my face. For a second, I was surprised my mom knew I played football, but then I remembered that my parents were always supportive of my athletic career. They always dropped their plans to cheer me on at my games.

Later, Kyle invited me and the bros over to watch the game. I went over there as I had done many times before and I was greeted by my bros, people who I’ve known for just as long as Kyle. After all, If they were his bros, they were my bros. We laughed and joked around as we always did until the game started.

We gathered into Kyle’s room, big enough for seven guys, but man did I forget how much we reeked after practice. We always shouted a ton during the game and I’m honestly surprised we never got any noise complaints from the neighbors. It was like our own little frat party hosted in Kyle’s room. We got really into it, but we were devastated when the opposing team scored in the last minute to gain the lead and win the game. A wave of sadness and anger filled the air as everyone started to leave. Everyone but me. Kyle told me to stay for a little bit longer.

“Are you gonna make me feel better or what?” he ordered. He was really upset about the loss.

“How, bro?” I responded. Did he want me to crack a joke for him? Give him a bro hug?

“I figured you remembered. I need someone to relieve my stress.” He grabbed his massive cock in his shorts and wiggled it around, helping me put two and two together. “We found out one drunk night how good of a cocksucker you are, so you agreed to ‘lend me a hand’ if I ever need it. Don’t worry, this is our little secret.”

“Oh, sorry bro. I completely forgot.” God, that was a wild night. It was an embarrassing request, but I knew I was just helping a brother out. I got on my knees and serviced Kyle as he made himself comfortable. He grabbed the back of my head with his firm palms, covered with callouses from years of pumping iron, and pushed his girthy shaft deeper into the depths of my mouth. I was surprised at my lack of a gag reflex as this mass of meat clogged my throat. I swallowed load after load of his hot, sticky semen until we had enough.

“Gotta say, bro, you suck dick better than like 90 percent of chicks I’ve been with. You sure you’re not a little faggy?” he teased. I laughed and rebuked his claims. I’m sure even some straight guys would be tempted by him and his impressive rod, and I’m no different. We quickly changed the subject and we pretended like that never happened. Neither of us wanted the other to know how much we enjoyed it.

To this day, I don’t know what the purpose of the jockrooms was. Doesn’t really matter though. As far as I’ve known, I’ve always been a jock and that’s all anyone has ever seen me as. It is real though. It was after gym class a few weeks later. When we were changing, I saw a nerd, Kevin, walk down the same hallway I did at one point. I felt like I knew him at one point, but that obviously wasn’t true. Why would I hang out with someone like him? I hid around the corner and watched as he approached the red door. I smirked as he put his hand on the door and opened it, taking his first steps into his new life. If you can’t beat us, you might as well join us.

I was eager to see Kevin at practice later. He woke up on the same bench I did, wearing a jockstrap like me, almost completely unrecognizable from the person he was hours ago. He took a moment to adjust, but we helped him remember how much of a jock he was. Once a jock, always a jock. I will never understand why the two of us thought we were nerds before. After all, I’ve known Kev most of my life and I was the one who introduced him to Kyle and the others. He’s been my best friend since 3rd grade and we were inseparable. We were practically in sync on the field. It felt awesome knowing that we were the kings of the school, and whoever hated us was just jealous that they’re not us.

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dollwrites · 1 year

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𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐲 — 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐮𝐧

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ this is a dark fic! smut ( minors dni ), fem!marleyan!reader, noncon ( and eventual dubcon ), virgin!reiner, gagging, size kink, noncon oral sex ( f! ), lots of manhandling, overstimulation ( him ), noncon creampie and dubcon breeding mention, tension between marleyan & eldian obviously, spoilers for late s3 / early s4, all characters featured are 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ originally posted on 01.01.2023. do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. thanks for reading < 3

𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 ∣ unholy by hey violet

he was watching you again.

it seemed like he always was. quietly ogling from the corner. you knew, of course, and every now and then, you would cut him a glare that seemed to burn right through him. the furrow in your brows brought forth the memory of a soreness in his jaw, that he discreetly reached up to rub with the back of his hand— the sensation of your fist making direct contact with it wrenched to the forefront of his mind. you’d decked him, hard enough to dislocate it, because you’d woken up to find one hand inching up under your shirt. he hadn’t been able to control the urge to touch you any longer, and although his fingers had not made it far above your belly button, he’d paid for their misdeeds severely: first the punch from you, and then a savage beating dealt from the hands of your peers— Marleyan soldiers.

but maybe he was lucky.

had he been any other Eldian, anyone of lower ranking, he would’ve been beaten to death for touching you. but did that stop him from wanting you so bad it tortured him? did that stop him from thinking about you late at night, from gripping the sheets of his bed so tight in one hand and himself in the other, whispering your name under his breath and trying his best to imagine it was you wrapped around his hard and desperate cock instead of his fist?

not even for a second.

“Going home,” Zeke announced his presence as he approached, the cherry of a cigarette burning and a dull, gray trail of smoke following him, “are you excited?”

“Yeah.” a pathetic excuse for a reply, actually, but Zeke hadn’t seemed to expect any less. he didn’t bother following Reiner’s eyeline, he already knew where it would lead, and that you were on the end of it. Reiner hadn’t even looked away when Zeke approached, so the War Chief was aware he was deep in his hapless abyss of desire for you.

Zeke sucks on the cigarette, and the end singes furious red as he draws in a deep breath and contemplates the silence between them.

but Reiner wasn’t. he was lost in his thoughts of you. the shape of your body, how effortlessly enticing you were just sitting there with your comrades. that damned unreadable expression you always wore— and that fiery hatred in your eyes when he caught them. did you loathe the weight of his gaze so much? did you feel every ounce of lust he poured into it, tracing each curve of your figure, wishing he could kiss every inch of you? you never held his gaze long, just enough to grimace in disapproval, stare down your nose at him.

it should’ve turned him off completely.

it didn’t.

because Reiner was convinced that, if he could just get you alone, if he could just get his hands on you, he could make you like him. he could rip away that hatred, and replace it with affection.

or, maybe it was just wishful thinking, and he didn’t care to talk himself out of the lie he fed himself because his time was running out and he needed to feel you ( even just once ) before he passed his Titan down.

as if fate was winking her eye at him, you said farewell to your peers and got up from your seat, disappearing behind a closed door. it wasn’t to go to the bunker, he knew that. behind that door was a small room where you spent most of your time— a broad desk in the middle of the room and maps spread out. you were in charge of reading them, marking attack points, rendezvous, and escape points.

and, more often than not, you were alone in there.

Reiner’s hands clenched into fists, and the muscles in his jaw tightened.

Zeke glanced at him, eyebrow quirked, and murmured, “What if I ordered you against it?” Reiner didn’t have to tell Zeke what he planned to do, it was painfully obvious already.

“I would tell you to have me punished for insubordination after we reach home.” Reiner didn’t mince words or intentions, and pushed himself off the wall. this was, quite possibly, the only opportunity he’d have to catch you alone, as he watched the other Marleyans filtering towards their bunks, leaving your little office completely unguarded.

Zeke pondered his response.

Reiner seemed decided already, and he knew that he couldn’t be swayed. so, the chief sighs. “Then, I’ll order you not to get caught this time.” Zeke said, instead. he knew he shouldn’t allow Reiner out of his sight, and especially not to disappear behind that door, but Reiner also wasn’t a child anymore. he wasn’t so easy to control. “I need my Vice Chief alive.”

Reiner blinked, expecting more resistance, but when it wasn’t pressed, he didn’t look at Zeke. he nodded, and crept off, slinking through the shadowy corners until he reached the door.

Reiner slipped inside, but made no real efforts to hide his arrival, staring at your back. you were standing at the desk, both hands on the maps, and you don’t say anything to the intruder. his eyes don’t leave you, hand drifting to the push the lock on the door into place.

“The war’s over.” he mutters, and he watches your shoulders stiffen. you hadn’t expected it to be him, it seems. “You can stop staring at those maps.”

you don’t look back at him, and he uses the opportunity of stealth to reach up and grasp his armband, his marker as an Eldian, and snatch it from his bicep as he approached.

“As long as Eldians exist, there will be other wars.” you spit in return, but your eyes widen only slightly when you hear how close his footsteps have gotten. your heart skips a beat, and you stare at your own fist on the table. “Get out of here.”

“No.”

a lump forms in your throat— he was right behind you. when he whispered it, his breath shifted the hair that rested against your ear, and the heat from his breath sent a shiver up your spine. did he… did he say ‘no’? to a direct order from a Marleyan?

“I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you.” he added, and you felt the sturdiness of his body against your back; his head dips low, so he can breathe your scent in deep.

your fist flew back towards him as you started to turn to face off with him, but he must’ve been ready for it, because he caught your arm at the wrist and bent it up behind your back until you cry out, “Son of a —!”

your expletive is muffled, and you gag on the taste of cotton. for a moment, you can’t tell what he’s shoved in your mouth, until he cinches it in a tight knot behind your head, pressing his weight on you, and you realize it’s his armband. rage fills your stifled obscenities as you writhe, desperate to get free, and stomp your feet, hoping to catch his toes under your boots. “I didn’t want to do it like this,” he growled in your ear, bringing his knees up into the back of yours, bending you over the tabletop with a rough shove. one, massive fist secures both of your wrists together at the small of your back, “but, I’m almost outta time. And I can’t wait on you to come around, anymore.” the more you wiggle, the harder he squeezes your arms, and you bite down hard on the gag. you were no match for his strength, and you knew that, but your pride wouldn’t be easily broken.

you kicked and flailed as wildly as you could, blindly, screaming slurred and incoherent about all the gruesome, bloody ways you would make him pay for this if he didn’t get off of you, but even that didn’t stop him.

his free hand grasped your belt and the hem of your trousers at once, jerking them down your thighs. leather screamed until it pools with your pants at your ankles, restricting them, and Reiner sucks in a breath behind you. “I really wanted to take my time with you,” he husks, placing his powerful palm on your ass and digging his fingers in, groping rough handfuls. you bite down to push a moan back into your throat, brows furrowed. both of your fists uncurl, and you hook your digits into the waistband of your panties, instead, in a vain attempt to keep him from tearing them off of you. it doesn’t matter; Reiner’s calloused fingers seemed to rip right through the cotton and shred them until they sagged in threads against your thighs. and then, he lets out a low, awed moan, squatting down to stare at your core, inches from it.

“Do you know how many times I’ve dreamt of this? Imagined how sweet your pussy must taste?” you shook your head, gurgling in defiance— demanding he not even dare, but it was too late. your fingers push at his forehead, hoping to pry him away, but his mouth was already sealing against your netherlips, suckling on them. you pushed your tongue against the gag to keep yourself from moaning; you couldn’t admit to him how good it felt, especially when his tongue slipped between his lips and flicked your clit to life. the throbbing nerve swells against his tastebuds and he snorts like a beast in rut, lapping at you. his mouth then travels over one ass cheek, sinking his teeth in deep, sucking on the skin to leave his signature on you. you squeak, clenching your legs together, but it hid nothing from his devious mouth. “I’ve never felt a cunt tremble in my mouth before, soak my tongue…” he admitted, panting already as he gets to his feet, “how does it feel having the first and last pussy I’ll ever kiss?” and, then you felt the firmness of a solid cock through the trousers he was working down against your thighs, his mouth finding the back of your neck. “The first and last pussy I’ll ever fuck?”

you squirm underneath his weight, muffled screams of protest hoping to reach outside the door dying in the room you’re trapped in, and before long he grabs hold of the base of his massive cock at its thick base, worming it between your folds until they stretch and slot around the swollen head. you could tell his hands were shaking, his breath ragged and excited against your neck. “You’re wet,” he breathes in awe, and you shake your head, crying out the word ‘no!’ as loud as you could, but it was ultimately a lie. you were dripping, coating the tip of his cock as he rubbed it back and forth against your sex. “Wet enough to take me right now.” the way he said it, with his voice uneven, you knew it wouldn’t matter if you hadn’t been.

he wasn’t giving you a choice, and any preparation was better than none at all.

your palms press flat against his clothed abdomen and you squeal in fervent protest when he jabs his way inside of you— it’s none too gentle and his size is enough to have you coming out of your skin. your walls flutter and scramble to stretch wide enough to allow for the intruder’s rough entry.

it isn’t long before Reiner, grunting and groaning, has fallen into a brutal, greedy rhythm.

crying out, drool soaking the armband digging into the corners of your mouth, you push with your hands, blindly, as hard as you can, to try and push him out, and you squirm atop the table, hoping to wriggle free, but once he’s fully nestled inside, Reiner takes your wrists in each hand. your hands ball into fists again as he uses your arms like levers, pulling your body back to meet the mighty snapping of his hips. each thrust fills you entirely, hard and fast. he’s not saving any energy, or trying to make the sensation last— deprivation has clearly sank into him, and he couldn’t control himself.

“So— so tight,” he moans, nuzzling into your neck, “so warm.. so… fucking… good!” your vice tightens around him when he hits your limit, and his hips stutter; Reiner elicits a broken, gurgling moan that churns your stomach, “Oh, fuck, right there? That’s— that’s what I want— tighten up—!“ shifting with all of his weight bearing down on you, his palms pin your arms to the table, and he pounds that same, sensitive spot relentlessly. his brutality encourages your body to clamp down harder around him, shudder and spasm. you scream and beg him to slow down, but your resolve is weakening, and the screaming is starting to shift into moaning.

no, you didn’t want this.

you didn’t like it.

was he simply breaking your body into submission, and in turn, your mind?

“Close,” he stammered through grinding teeth, “so fucking close.”

for a moment, you mewled; the prominent vein massaging a delicate knot of nerves inside you as he plows against your hips. your eyelids fluttered, and you didn’t hear his warning. his rhythm didn’t change; it remained as cruel as one could be, battering your insides, but that nerve bundle was screaming each time he rammed it. your toes curled in your boots, and you moaned out loud.

and that was when Reiner lost it.

you hadn’t had time to react before he buried himself as deep as he could go, pumping you full of warmth, and you snap out of the pleasure trance too late to utter a disdainful but weak, “Shtp…“ amongst his huffing and puffing. your feet stomp against the floor, but sluggish.

your thighs quaked. your head was spinning. your stomach was tied up in knots. and your walls were trembling and sore from being stretched and abused. but Reiner was still rock hard inside of you. he’d cum, but he was still solid and bulging his shape against your belly.

“I need more.” Reiner grunted, and before you knew it, you were being flipped over. he did it with so much ease that you must’ve weighed nothing at all to the brute, and somehow managed to keep his cock deep inside of you. the breath is knocked from your lungs when your back makes contact with the desk, and your head rolls to one side, as if admitting your defeat. you didn’t want to look at him— you knew if you took one look at his red cheeks, or saw the sparkling sweat against his temple, or even caught a glimpse at his eyes, pupils blown out until they’re all black, you would want him. “Fucking you once was never going to be enough.” his hips were already rocking again, finding a deep, hard rhythm, and his own release frosts his length and dribbles out from your core when he retracts, then squelches when he drills his way back inside. both of his hands flee to his own body first, making short work of the buttons on his shirt before he peels it off of himself, and it flutters to puddle at his feet.

when his hands found you again, he started by pushing your legs open and down against the table, but when he saw that you weren’t going to fight him, he released them, and you kept them spread for him to violate you however he wanted. “Good… Good girl…” he panted, one hand reaching up to grab your face and turn it back to him. this time, you did make eye contact, and you moaned through the gag when you saw the pleasure you were giving him on his face, “Take it, just take it for me.” his fist wraps around the armband and he yanks it down, leaving you sputtering and puffing. “You want it, now, don’t you?”

for a moment, you just glare at him, or try to, but your eyes are becoming harder and harder to keep open. Reiner caresses your cheek, possibly tracing the irritation caused by how tight he’d tied the gag, but the gentleness of his touch was a startling juxtaposition to just how fervently he fucked into you. he was staring into your eyes, too, combatting the ferocity you tried to pour with pure adoration, the kind that must’ve even diluted his mind.

you didn’t answer, and he didn’t seem to care either way, because his hand travels south over your heaving breasts and down to your cunt, strumming experimentally. you pant, your eyes averting from his when he finds your engorged clit and presses the rough pad of his thumb on it to rub it hard. you couldn’t stifle your moans anymore, no matter how hard you tried, and let them punctuate each, maddening slam of his body into yours. your eyes trained on the muscles in his arms, veins bulging, everything pulled taut like a rubber band ready to snap. you wanted to reach down and push his hand away from your bud, the sensations overwhelming you, but decided against it. he’d overpowered you in every aspect of the word so far, you might as well take the role of the weaker, helpless one. your hands lay up near your head, backs of them resting against the table, and your legs were splayed wide, cramping from the position, and you whimpered. your back arched when his thumb pushed in just the right way, and you knew he’d rip an orgasm out of you if he didn’t ease up.

and he didn’t.

when he felt you pulse, when he saw your back arch, he rubbed more furiously in the same spot, and pistoned his powerful hips until you were babbling and squirming and coming undone on his cock, and he was panting and gripping your hip with his free hand, murmuring about how beautiful you were and how much he’s always wanted this.

his second climax wasn’t far behind yours, and he traded his fingers pinching your clit for both hands gripping your hips and pulling them to meet his reckless fucking. “I love you,” he panted when he was right on the cusp. “I love you so fucking much.” and somehow, even though lust might’ve been puppeteering him, you believed it. Reiner was obsessed with you, infatuated, since before he left for Paradis Island, and now he was finally getting to force that obsession on to you. with no more resistance. no one there to stop him or beat him for laying his hands on you.

it was only after he’d pinned you to the table with his whole weight that he whispered in your ear, “I want to give you babies.” your eyes widened at that, “I want to see your belly swell, and I want to know that you’ll bear my children, it’ll make giving over my Titan easier…” a couple of deep, slow pumps and he’s filled you once more, this time the excess spurts out around his base and dribbles down his thighs, too, as he moans and pulls back, to smother your mouth in a sloppy, needy kiss.

you should’ve turned your head, pushed him off and told him that you would rather die than birth and Eldian bastard, but you didn’t do any of those things. because you weren’t entirely sure if that was true anymore.

#reiner braun #reiner #reiner x reader #reader x you #reiner smut #reiner braun x you #Reiner braun x reader #reiner braun smut #attack on titan x female reader #attack on titan x you #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan smut #attack on titan #attack on titan imagine

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azrielslightintheshadows · 5 months

Note

You've got me on an Eris kick now oml

Could I request an Eris brat tamer fic please?

Reader is a healer coming into his court to serve him now that he is high lord. But she is also kind of chaotic and free spirited which gets under his skin but he loves it none the less. Reader is just a feral little wood herbalist that steals his heart but he needs to tame her 😂 honestly just have fun with it, throw in some sexual tension and flirting in and I'll be happy as a clam

Thank you for all you do! I hope everything in your world is a bit brighter from your last update 🩷

-leaf anon 🌿

Sucker for a brat.

Eris x f!Reader

Masterlist.

Warnings; smut (18+) , brat taming. The smut is towards the end and I've marked where it starts.

Hello leaf anon!!! I'm so happy you're back! I was thinking about you the other day and suddenly you requested this and I was like "Omg I summoned the leaf anon". Hope you enjoy this!

It was the second time that Helion begged you to go to the Autumn court as a healer. The first time you immediately told him no, saying that you had way too much respect for yourself to serve Beron, and Helion accepted that and didn’t press the matter. Now though that Beron is dead, and his eldest son Eris became High Lord you couldn’t find any excuse to deny. So, you packed your few stuff and left for the Autumn court hoping that Eris is nothing like his late father.

The moment you stepped into the Forest House you cursed under your breath. The house more like palace was huge, and you were sure that you would get lost at some point. A maid approached you with a kind smile on her face.

“Welcome to the Autumn Court” she said, “The High Lord is waiting for you in the throne room”.

You snorted and mumbled “Of course” before following her.

You entered the throne room and glanced around, everything was covered with red and brown ornaments, five huge chandeliers were hanging from the ceilings, decorated with rubies and sapphires. A red narrow carpet covered the path between the door and the huge throne on the dais. Your breath hitched at the sight of the High Lord sprawled on his throne, his thighs spread wide, and his head cocked to the side, his eyes were scanning you and a smirk appeared on his face.

“Hello little fox” he purred.

You scowled and stood in front of him, bowing your head in a mocking way. Amusement filled his eyes and the smirk turned to a mischievous grin.

“Oh I see, we’re going to have way too much fun” he said.

“I’m here to do my job, you can have fun on your own… my lord”. You replied.

The maid gasped at your reply and hurried off with her head bowed.

“Y/n my dear is this the way to speak to your high lord? I can have your tongue for that.” He purred.

His attitude and the velvet in his voice made your insides burn, and you hoped he didn’t notice your arousal.

“My apologies my lord I didn’t mean to bruise your ego.” You smirked.

The smile left his face, and he cleared his throat.

“Nissa is going to show you to your room and infirmary” He spoke and pointed at the door, an old female was standing there, her tired honey eyes fell on you, and she smiled.

“Enjoy the rest of your night” you smiled and left, not missing the glare he sent your way.

You winked at Nissa and strolled past her to the big hall.

“So where is my room?” You chirped.

“Follow me my lady” she chuckled “it seems like the high lord found a perfect match”

You snorted at that.

“I just don’t really like the authority… all those high lords are so cocky and demanding. Why can’t we all appreciate the magic in us without all those laws and regulations” you huffed.

“Those laws are what keeps us from being savages” she smiled, and you shrugged.

It’s not that you didn’t appreciate the system that Prythian has, you just wanted to be free to make your own choices and create a life you enjoyed.

She stopped in front of a wooden door and looked at you.

“This is your room, the infirmary is on the other side of the house. I will come get you in the morning and take you there.” She said and bowed her head before turning around and leaving.

“Good night” you shouted and opened the door.

The room was slightly smaller than the one in Helion’s palace, but you didn’t mind it, it looked cozy, and you didn’t even have that much stuff to fill it.

All the furniture were made from wood, a big bed was set in the middle of the room, the headboard against a chestnut-colored wall and a small coffee table was placed next to the big window across the door. You walked inside and hummed when you noticed a door that led into a bathroom. You placed your bags on the bed and started unpacking. The closet was full of clothes, their style and color screamed autumn court making you roll your eyes.

After you were done unpacking you took a hot bath and then laid on the bed, you knew you had a long day ahead and you needed to rest.

To your mortification your dreams were filled with a certain high lord bending you over his throne and wrecking your body.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 🍁 🍂 ☁️˙✧˖°

Eris was sitting on his throne, his hands shaking with annoyance. He couldn’t believe the way the small female spoke to him, she has a fire in her that’s for sure and he knew that being around her would challenge his own fire until he exploded. He thought about all the ways he could make you shut up and each one of them made his cock harden. The way you looked didn’t really help with his arousal, you were a sight for sore eyes and Eris felt a primal need to claim you even though he only saw you once.

He rubbed his face and started walking towards his room stopping in front of your door for a moment. Your sweet scent filled his nostrils, and he clenched his fists. He shook his head and hurried off to his room. The moment he walked inside he stripped his clothes and grabbed himself pumping fast and hard, letting all the annoyance out as he came on his stomach with a groan.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 🍁 🍂 ☁️˙✧˖°

You woke up frustrated, your dreams flashing in your eyes making you groan. You got dressed in one of your day court dresses not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you in Autumn colors. As if on cue Nissa knocked on your door.

“Good morning my lady, I’m here to take you to the infirmary” she smiled when you opened.

“Good morning Nissa, please call me y/n I don’t like the titles” you snorted.

“Of course” she smirked and started walking.

“What are you smirking about?” You asked.

“Our high lord likes females with strong spirits”.

“Well too bad those females don’t like him” you chuckled.

Nissa shook her head and grinned.

You walked past the throne room, and you peeked inside, no one was there.

“He is out on a hunt” Nissa said.

“I don’t care”.

“Okay”

You really wanted to slap the smug look off her face but she seemed like a nice person, so you just clicked your tongue.

You reached a room without a door and walked inside, a large table was set in the middle, the wall across the door was made of glass, offering a view of the forest bellow and a counter filled with bowls and tools was placed against it. You hummed with excitement and approached the counter. You examined the jars filled with different types of herbs and picked a piece of paper and a quill. You wrote down what else you needed and gave it to Nissa.

“I will need those things”.

“Okay I will send someone to get them. Do you need me for anything else?” She asked.

“No, I’m okay, I will make some basic ointments in case something happens and we don’t have enough time” you smiled and picked an apron.

“If you need any help just give a shout” she said and left.

You grabbed two plantain leaves and placed them in the mortar and began squashing them with the pestle, adding some oil now and then and humming a song your mother used to sing to you. You were so lost in the rhythm and in the healing power that was flowing out of you into the ointment that you jumped when you heard the barking of hounds. You peeked outside and saw around 8 hounds running towards the gates of the house, they kept spinning around and barking towards the woods. You furrowed your eyebrows and moved closer to the glass, trying to see what had them so excited, and there he was… Eris emerged from the trees, dressed in a maroon tunic decorated with rubies and tight pants. His red hair a mess from the wind and his face flushed and filled with mischief.

He lifted his gaze and his eyes fell on you, a predatory smile taking over. You rolled your eyes ignoring the shivers and returned to your herbs.

As you stirred the ointment adding more oil you felt his presence in the room.

“High lord” you greeted without looking at him.

He came next to you and sat on the counter.

“What’s this?” He nodded to the mortar.

“I’m making an ointment, this is used to address infections and heal both burns and wounds, it also helps with insect bites.” You explained and opened a small container to pour the substance in.

Eris hummed and gripped the container keeping it still to help you.

“Thank you” you said once you were done.

“Any particular reason why you decided to make an ointment for burns?” He smirked.

You gave him a questioning look and he placed his finger beneath your chin pushing your head up and exposing your neck more.

“Are you afraid that I’m going to burn you little fox?” He purred.

You huffed and smacked his hand away.

“I’m not afraid of you my lord”.

“You should be” his voice was even deeper and raspier than before.

“I doubt that” you rolled your eyes.

In a blink he had you bent over the counter, his hand hovered above your ass and his face rested against your shoulder. You bit back a moan and grabbed the edges of the counter.

“Careful how you use your tongue little fox, you won’t like the consequences” he growled.

Your brain stopped working and you arched your back.

“Who said I won’t like it” your voice was low and sensual as you spoke making him groan.

“Don’t play with this fire, even your ointment won’t be able to save you afterwards” and with that he was gone.

You stayed bent over the counter for a few minutes trying to process what just happened. You only met him last night and the need to have him was already making you mad, you couldn’t imagine surviving here forever or at least until he found another healer and released you from your duty. You couldn’t focus on making any more salves or ointments, your power felt uncontrollable and with a sigh you removed your apron and left the room.

Nissa was fixing some paintings on the walls of the big hall, she took a step back and smiled when she saw you approaching.

“Are you done with your herbs?” She asked.

“Yes couldn’t really focus, so I only made one” you shrugged.

Nissa smirked and nodded knowingly.

“Do you usually pry into your high lord’s life or you just want to get on my nerves?” You huffed.

“I raised him child, I know him since the day he was born. I just want him to be happy.” She spoke.

“Aren’t you afraid that he is going to punish you if he finds out what you’ve been saying to me?” Your question was genuine and Nissa could tell.

She sighed.

“Eris is nothing like his father, he respects his people, and he is trying to make his court a better place. Most of us speak freely without any fear from the moment Beron let his last breath. Others are a bit skeptical about Eris, but they are slowly trusting him.”

“You really believe in him huh?” You quirked a brow.

“He is the savior of this court.” She said and turned back to the paintings.

“Where is lady autumn?”

Nissa smiled lovingly “at the day court, she left the day you came.”

“She went to Helion?” You gaped at her.

“Yes Eris told her that he didn’t mind, that he wants her to be happy so she left” Nissa looked at you again “close your mouth child you’ll catch a fly”

You scowled at her and left with a huff ignoring her soft giggles.

This time you didn’t peek into the throne room, you just marched into your bedroom lost deep in thought. Eris’ scent was still on you, making your thighs clench and your heart skip a beat.

Just when you thought he couldn’t get any hotter, Nissa proved you wrong.

With a groan you fell on the bed and pressed your face against the pillow.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 🍁 🍂 ☁️˙✧˖°

Eris was sitting on his throne watching as his advisors bickered with each other about taxes and how they could make more money. They didn’t say that clearly, but Eris could tell this was all they cared about. He caught your scent as you passed the throne room and his breath hitched. His mind going back to the moment he had you bent over the counter, he noticed how you bit back a moan and how your waist arched lifting your ass further for him. He had met strong females before, but they never crossed the line that would make them brats. You on the other hand were way past that line and his body ached to tame you. His cock hardened at the thought, and he huffed interrupting his advisors, the older males stared at him in question.

“The taxes are fine, we don’t need that much money anyway and my people won’t be able to survive another raise. Meeting’s over” he announced and got up, fixing his crown to make a statement and leaving the room.

As he was walking towards his room, he heard a door opening and then a snort. He turned around and his eyes narrowed as he spotted you.

“Nice crown my lord” you mocked and started walking the other way. To be honest you didn’t know why you mocked him, he looked extremely hot with that crown on his head.

In a blink his strong hand gripped your elbow, and he turned you around pressing your body against him.

“I would believe your mockery if you weren’t drooling” he smirked and leaned closer, his nose almost touching yours.

“You wish” you challenged him with a matching smirk.

He grabbed your jaw and squeezed your cheeks.

“Do I need to fuck the brat out of you?” He growled. Your whole body wanted you to scream yes and fall on your knees for him but the wicked side of you took over and you gripped his neck squeezing lightly.

“You couldn’t even if you tried” your words muffled by his grip on your jaw.

His eyes flashed with dominance and a wicked smile appeared on his face, he moved his free hand and grabbed your wrist removing your hand from his neck and pinning it above your head. Ropes of fire kept your hand in place, and he grabbed your other hand too, giving it the same fate. He kicked your legs open and placed himself between, his strong body pressed against you and his bulge grinding on your thigh.

“I’m going to ruin you little fox” he purred and started biting and sucking the soft skin on your neck.

You let out a soft moan, and clenched your eyes shut.

Eris picked a dagger from his belt and cut the bottom of your dress in one swift move, he pushed the sides behind you gaining access to your needy heat. You were clenching onto nothing, and whines left your lips.

“Stop whining little brat, do you think that you deserve to be touched?” he growled and knelt in front of you, his fire keeping you in place as he grabbed your legs and placed them on his shoulders. He darted his tongue over your swollen clit.

“Please Eris, I’ll be good” you cried out.

He removed his face from your heat and lifted his eyebrow.

“How did you call me?” he asked, and you gulped. You fucked up and you knew it.

“I’m sorry my lord” your voice barely above a whisper and filled with need. You usually wouldn’t act like that, but his dominance made you want to be a good girl for him, and the predatory glint he had in his eyes promised you a good time.

He latched on your clit again, adding pressure with his teeth and making your whole body tremble, his tongue moved between your folds and started fucking you.

You were a moaning mess, the sloppy sounds of his mouth on your cunt and the cold touch of his crown on your thigh only added to your pleasure.

“Please my lord” you cried out not sure what you were pleading him for. You ground your hips on his face and he let out a growl, his strong hands moving to your hips to keep you steady. The growl sent the perfect amount of vibrations to your nerves and you felt your release approaching.

“You wanna cum on my face little fox?” he hummed.

“Yes yes oh please yes” you screamed and the moment your pleasure reached its peak he stopped. The ghost of his touch still there as he watched your eyes filling with tears. His wicked grin was back.

“I’m going to ruin you” he purred as he got up and grabbed your thighs, wrapping them around his waist. He untied the laces of his pants and took himself out giving a few slow pumps before lining up to your entrance.

Your mouth watered at the sight of him, he was huge and leaking.

“Red means stop” he informed you and slammed his hips on yours. You felt like he was cutting you in half and you let out a scream.

“That’s it, keep screaming for me” he breathed and began snapping his hips at a punishing pace. The hall was filled with your cries and the sound of skin slapping. Your cries could be heard everywhere in the palace and especially in the throne room where his advisors were gathering their stuff. The sounds made them furrow their eyebrows and exit the room to see what was happening.

One of the males gasped at the sight of you making Eris whip his heard in their direction never stopping his thrusts. They started walking to the other side where the gates were. Eris lifted his pointer finger at them.

“No. Stay and watch as I punish the little brat” he growled, and the males froze. They gaped at the two of you.

The whole scene if front of you made your blood boil in pleasure.

“I’m gonna cum my lord” you moaned.

“Hold it” he gritted his teeth and began thrusting harder and deeper.

One rope of fire moved in the top of your dress and slithered around your nipple while another one toyed with your clit. You were seeing stars, your screams were even louder. Making two of the advisors moan as they palmed themselves.

“Leave. Now” Eris snarled, possessiveness taking over.

“Mine” he growled in your ear making the bond snap and that was your undoing.

“Let me cum my lord please” you begged. “Cum” he ordered, and your body trembled.

“Oh Eris” you cried and arched your back, your head pushing against the wall as the pleasure took over, you felt like you were floating.

His thrusts flattered and small grunts left his throat.

He snapped his hips once, twice and then buried himself deep inside you, warm ropes of cum painting your walls as his cock throbbed.

“Fuck” he growled and pressed his forehead on your shoulder.

You were breathing heavily. Exhaustion taking over and you closed your eyes to calm down.

“I’m not done with you my sweet little mate, this was for my own pleasure that’s why you enjoyed it. Now I’m going to fucking punish you.” He growled and carried you to his room.

“Oh boy” you sighed.

Third time writing smut. What do you think?

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scuttlingcrab · 2 months

Note

Assuming cambions can get drunk, one way or another, how about a thingy following Raphael's perspective as he wakes up after being drunk only to find himself wrapped in the arms of his little mouse (whom he is definitely not pining for even a little bit /s), even though he knows for a fact he hadn't brought her here? They are both clothed and Tav is still asleep. As Raphael tries to recall what happened the night before, he faintly remembers that Haarlep or Korrilla brought Tav to him then left... and after Tav helped/convinced him to go to bed, she turned to leave and- Oh... He grabbed for her wrist and begged asked for her not to leave, for her to please stay with him. What would he do next?

I'm slowly making my way through all the brilliant prompts folks are sending and having a blast. Thank you so much for this one, really hope you enjoy! x

Summary: Raphael wakes up with a hangover, only to find Tav sleeping on his chest. He desperately tries to make sense of the entire situation.

Hangover from Hell

Raphael floated in darkness, completely void of any sound or sensation. In a flash, a red glowing orb appeared before him, leagues away, floating patiently. A light buzzing accompanied it, echoing around him. Raphael tried to move his head, a hand, something, but he remained stagnant.

The glowing orb increased in brightness, growing bigger as it approached Raphael. He tried to shout, to scream, for anyone, anything, but no words, no whimpers, escaped his mouth. His body pulsed and throbbed the more the orb got closer, a sharp heat radiated from where his chest would've been. The buzzing intensified as the orb’s shape grew more distinct, pointier, growing horns. 1, 2… 5 horns, each with their own red glowing sphere, almost as if it resembled…

The void vanished, yet his head still throbbed, matching the irregular rhythm of his heart. Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump. It felt like an orthon, or another savage infernal beast, was attempting to rip his head in two. He clenched a fist, his fingers touching a smooth, cold surface. He opened his eyes, but was immediately blinded by bright lights, stinging deep within his retinas.

He could feel himself spinning, losing control, no matter how hard he grabbed on to the ground for stability. Was he bested in battle? Poisoned? Did Raphael’s dear father finally catch a whiff of his meddlings? He had been careful, calculating, operating from the shadows, never revealing too much, never saying too little to even Harleep during their intimacy. What went wrong? This is not the end, he will make it to the finale. He will not be made a fool!

He opened his eyes again, the light less piercing as he began to make sense of his current surroundings. Familiar objects populated his vision; wooden wardrobes, ornate windows, sparkling marble floors… the Devil’s Den. He was lying on the floor, his body inches from the bed. His clothes were damp from sweat, yet his skin was burning.

Raphael grumbled as he attempted to roll over on his side but his movement was restricted. Something was latched onto him, sinking into his chest. He looked down, only to find a fully clothed mortal woman… no, not any woman, Tav, snuggled into his chest, her dainty little fingers held him close. She slept soundly, as if he was a sorry substitute for a pillow.

Raphael’s eyes narrowed, he hastily dug through the recesses of his memory, trying to cling on to anything from the night before to make sense of this bizarre predicament but could find nothing, only fuzziness.

He sprang up in exasperation, desperately trying to slither out of Tav’s embrace. The broiling rage that had been growing in his chest was instantly extinguished by the onslaught of vertigo. The room whirled faster and faster, chaos encircling him. Raphael gritted his teeth to keep himself from tipping over. Enough! Foul creatures and their disreputable games!

Raphael viciously snapped his fingers and the ailments faded, his mind slowly became clearer, the ground beneath him stilling. Tav was seemingly unaffected by Raphael’s movements, continuing with her slumber. His body began to tremble as he watched her.

He would prefer to have been bested by Mephistopheles, chained and tortured repeatedly in the confines of his icy prison in Cania, than find himself in this demeaning state. How far he had fallen, so disgustingly low, sharing the same ground with these mortals.

Raphael snapped his fingers again and Tav teleported to the bed, her posture unchanged. Free of that creature. He rose to his feet, steadying his balance. In doing so, he caught sight of himself in the mirror across the room and growled. He was barely identifiable. His usual pristine hair, ever so slightly slicked back, was tangled and matted against the back of his head. His clothes were bedraggled, as if he had pulled them from an unholy wreckage.

“Bah!” He screamed, clapping his hands together as if to destroy an insect. The action restored his appearance but his pride was still damaged, so badly chipped he wasn’t sure if he would ever recover; no spell could make him forget this.

His eyes fell on a large circular table nestled in the corner of the room. One chair had fallen over and the other was pushed aside, left askew, as if done in haste. Empty shot glasses littered the top of the table, too many to tally without immediately losing count. Two empty bottles of whiskey lay discarded on the floor.

Raphael leapt towards the table, picking up a bottle, a few drops of bright yellow liquid sloshed about at the bottom. Raphael brought it to his nose and shivered as the scent elicited a memory: Korrilla handing him the bottles with a wink as she left his chambers. Red Whiskey. He should have known. One of the finest and deadliest spirits to be exported from the Hells. A single shot of this could leave even the most powerful infernal creatures on their backs and without their wits.

He glanced at Tav on the bed. And it would surely prove deadly to any mortal. But Tav wasn’t just any creature, she was chosen. Yes in truth by Raphael for his own nefarious purposes but as he stood there gaping at the creature, there was an impatient little tadpole swimming around her brain; waiting for metamorphosis. Perhaps that is why she was not currently lying dead on his marble floors? How she didn't choke on her own vomit in her sleep? That would have been a far more preferable sight than finding her head resting on his chest. Another thanks owed to the Elder Brain.

He pounded across the room like a caged animal as he began piecing together the events. No matter how hard he focused, he could only fish out fragments, mere images.

Tav meekly knocking on his door. Raphael leaning back in his chair, nursing a shot of whiskey in his hands, grinning. What should have been an easy win. Tav, sitting opposite Raphael, her face flushed, eyes glazed over as she rested her elbows on the table. Tav attempting a game of five-finger-fillet, nearly chopping off a thumb. Raphael’s vision cloudy, watching as Tav stumbled towards the door, a searing pain in his chest as he reached out to her...

Raphael dug his nails into his palms, drawing blood. He grimaced as he held his arms by his side. These memories, they were all false, soured by the infernal whiskey. Merely exaggerations. His neverending chase for the Crown had caused his imagination to run wild, too wild. He needed to tame his thoughts, that was the only explanation. Raphael would see it no other way.

Last night’s antics were merely strategic.

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savnofilter · 1 year

Note

Oh wow,,, to be Stain's younger sister and found by Tenya then fucked brutally as savage revenge against your brother

tenya iida x [afab] reader

warning(s): sexual content, revenge sex, degradation, dumbification if you squint, reader fucked stupid, hate fucking, begging, cervix trope.

read more: masterlist | student masterlist

a/n: this has sit in my drafts for so long but ive finally thought of an idea. if you dont like rough & mean fucking this not for yew. thank you anon!

your brain felt as though it was turning into mush.

the simple act of keeping your eyes shut only aided slightly in trying to keep yourself from totally losing it. your mouth is agape, drool running down the side of your mouth and your head is hung low. your body rocks violently back and forth as your ass has no choice but to meet the harsh thrusts of the navy blue haired hero behind you.

you couldn't even moan. the force at which his cock piston in-and-out of your sopping cunt was a testament to how much you secretly desired this—despite the circumstances on which why this is happening to begin with.

you had heard him spit something out at you, but you had no more braincells left to respond, much less hear whatever he said. Ingenium's hands gripped at your delicate skin, the taught texture of his gloves creating an uncomfortable sensation similar to a rug burn. each time he brought your back against him, he used his hold on your arms to force you back onto his cock.

"Speech--less, huh?" at least, that's what you think he said. you groan in response, tears brimming at your eyes when you feel him adjust his hips slightly, his length now brushing at your g-spot and now aiming to fit the rest of his cock within your cunt. "Dumb bitch."

after all of these years, you would have thought that you could have been untraceable to your mock-vigilante brother, Stain. which the man had apparently traumatized one of the newest super heroes years ago before he could make a proper name for himself. the man new aged past that point, it's almost ridiculous with how much anger and passion he has to nearly fuck your brains out.

when you came home, that's where Ingenium—the youngest of two brothers—waited for you. he had started patient with before getting aggressive very fast. to be honest you weren't too sure how you ended up with his huge cock stuffed within you, but the outcome was very much appreciated. your brother's actions led you to this point and you're honestly not too sure that you're complaining. except maybe for the fact when you presumably wake up in the morning, you'd be sore all over, nauseous and dirty with all the fluids from tonight.

you whimper trying to signal him that yet another orgasm was about to cum, but he ignored your protests. small sobs escape your lips upon the sensation of his tip now pocking at your cervix at each thrust.

"P..lease!" you slur out. you could feel your walls quiver, your body readying for yet another orgasm brought upon from the man behind you.

as if Ingenium couldn't hear you, or give a fuck, he brings you back against his cock harsher, the impact bringing stars into your vision. a shriek leaves your mouth as you finish once again, a deep shiver racking through body as his pace never lets up. at this rate you weren't sure when he was going to finish.

you just hope that your brother will forgive you if he ever found out...

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha smut #mha smut #iida x reader #iida smut #iida thirst #talk iida #not sfw #d drabbles

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peppermintwhisp · 1 year

Text

I don’t think people realize the sheer amount of calories the batfam has to consume just to keep up with their daily activities. Top level athletes can burn 500-800 calories an hour while training (don’t think for a second Bruce doesn’t have these guys training a few hours daily), and then they’re also patrol several hours a night.

Meal time is probably less sitting nicely waiting to be served and more like sharks in the water after a bucket of chum has been thrown. It makes me laugh to imagine Duke’s first time at a family dinner reaching for bread roll only to be pulled back by Alfred for fear he’s going to lose a finger as the rest of them absolutely savage the food spread.

#batfam #duke thomas #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #cassandra cain #damian wayne #stephanie brown #food mention #the amount of chocolate milk in the fridge #must be staggering #and they all keep snacks on them on patrol

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desidarling123 · 1 year

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We NEED to talk about Shuri...

MAJOR spoilers for Black Panther: Wakanda Forever below ...

We need to talk about how fucking DARK Shuri was in the movie and also WHY. My girl was taking psychological L after psychological L. Like, no wonder homegirl went hurtling down her villain arc.

I would too bitch! Probably for less, actually!

It just starts and never stops:

She has to live with the guilt of not being at his side when her brother dies (and not being able to save his life, either)

She has to live with the guilt of not being able to save her mother

She finally manages to take the herb and go the Ancestral Plane... only to see her homicidal cousin basically urging her to succumb to her darkest instincts and get that shit done

And boy, get it done she does:

Straight-up blackmails M'Baku into cooperation even though he very obviously doesn't wanna get involved

Her trapping Namor in her terrifying dehydration plane and then asking him if he needed a glass of water BROOOOOOOOOOOO

That moment when she RIPPED HIS FUCKING WINGS OFF??? when i tell you i fucking GASPED in the THEATER

her claws in his back except that was me being dirty-minded sorry

She pulled a SPEAR out of her ABDOMEN on sheer SPITE????

and when she blew up the plane so it would kill Namor for good?? turned her armor on and stood through it like a savage whilst he (presumably) burned to death??? JAW ON THE FUCKING GROUND DUDE!!! HOLY FUCK

My girl said fuck around and find out bitch. Holy shit.

#shuri #wakanda forever #wakanda forever spoilers #black panther wakanda forever #shuri x namor #namor x shuri

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targaryen-dynasty · 8 months

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GREEN LANING.

Part 3 of The Devil You Know

Masterlist - Series Masterlist

Biker!Aemond Targaryen x fem!Reader

When Aemond actually showed up during her shift, she became aware of the repercussions of her actions and words.

WORDS: 1.8 K

WARNINGS: None!

NOTES: This kinda is an interlude to give just a bit more insight and built the story. Chapter 4 is going to be crazy, and there are going to happen multiple things. 👀 Chapter 4 will also be longer, and because I like my chapters short, I figured it’s best to post this one separately.

The dreaded shift approached faster than anticipated. Once the rest of the bar was cleaned up, you had left to grab some lunch with Baela before heading back to open Choppers.

While she had told you that her, Jace and the twins left not long after you departed, you filled her in on the more or less weird encounter you had with a customer in the morning. You didn’t mention who said customer was, since Aemond was her cousin and you didn’t want to make things too weird, however, she seemed as if she had a suspicion, and you kind of blamed it on your reaction when he and Aegon came to the bar last night.

Luckily, the bar wasn’t too busy this evening.

You lingered at the pool table with Addam, Alyn, Jace and Cregan, while the rest of their gang was busy with something entirely different. Rhaena and Luke still were in Driftmark, and Baela and her mother had set off earlier that evening to join them there for one night, visiting her grandfather and his wife.

With your presence, you mostly tried to keep the guys distracted, providing them with drinks and snacks to keep their minds off the two blondes, and their troublemakers, that occupied the table from the night before. All members of Dracarys were sitting at the table, meaning the most hot-headed member of the Savage Dragons had to share a room with Aegon, Aemond, Jason, Criston, and the twins, Arryk and Erryk.

It was astonishing to watch Jace’s mood switch from relaxed and easy-going to tensed and irritated in no less than two seconds upon spotting them in the far back. And with Cregan at his side going through the same mood swings, you didn’t want to risk yet another turmoil on your shift.

Any other day, chatting and messing around with Jace and Cregan would’ve been easy and casual, but it wasn't everyday you were being watched closely, feeling the eye of a certain someone on you all the time.

So far, Aemond hadn’t reached out to ask you out again, but you rather blamed it on your company than on him being afraid to do so, because his eye burned into your body ever since he came to the bar a few hours ago, and when you examined him a tad more carefully, it seemed as if he was close to getting onto his feet to approach you at any given minute.

“Hey, sweets,” you heard someone calling out, knowing damn well who this raspy voice belonged to. Aegon. And when there didn’t come a reaction from you, he proceeded to shout your voice in a sing-song manner, until eventually, you turned your head to face him, inviting him to reveal his motives. “Would you please be so kind and bring us another round?” Considering Cregan was the one to serve them the first time, it was interesting to hear Aegon call for you this time around, probably knowing all too well that Jace and Cregan didn’t want to have them there.

You moved to walk back to the counter, but inevitably bumped into Jace who was close to charging at Aegon. “Don’t fucking call her like that,” he snarled, and while Aegon raised his hands in mock defeat, your hand on his chest was the reason he focused back on you. “I can handle that myself,” you warned with a sharp tone, which prompted the brunette to bow his head once and back up. Even over the music, you heard the men around the Targaryen brother’s scoff, though you were relieved to see Jace paying no mind to it, stalking back to Cregan to finish their round of pool.

While his temper wasn't something new to you, it being directed toward something concerning you certainly was. Jace had always seemed like someone that liked and enjoyed your presence, however, he also was fine with it lacking.

As you disappeared behind the counter to draw six beers, you were pleasantly surprised to meet Aemond’s blueish eye as you turned back around once you had reached for a tray. He was leaning over the counter, his veiny hands clasped in front of him and a plain black t-shirt adorning his toned torso. It was the first time you got to see more of his skin than just his hands, face and neck, various tattoos scattered all across the pale skin of his arms.

Just the mere sight of him up close with a cheeky grin on his lips sent your heart into overdrive, the pounding palpable in your throat, and you brought a hand to your heart in a miserable attempt to try to calm it. While it was a shame he wore the damned eyepatch yet again, you also were grateful, because otherwise you would have perished straight away, the faint scar and the slightly mismatched prosthetic eye giving him some kind of charm that was just too irresistible.

“I would have brought this to you in a second,” you said with a nod into the direction of the beers, not trying to let your flusterness show.

Your eyes trailed toward his hands as you awaited an answer that never came, and you spotted what seemed to be a small piece of paper between his nimble fingers, growing curious as to what he planned to do with it. “There’s a bonfire at the Blackwater Bay tomorrow evening. Care to join me?”

A huff of air left your lungs at that, surprised he really took your words to heart, and you slowly prowled towards the counter to grip the edge, bowing closer to him with a matching cheeky smirk on your lips. “Guess I can’t get rid of you, mh?” you teased, but still held out your hand, expecting him to hand you his phone for you to type in your number.

“Not really,” he returned your teasing, placing the piece of paper in your hand. You raised a brow at that, eyes darting between him and the paper. “What’s this?”

Aemond captured his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment, stifling a chuckle. “My phone died, so, this is the only way for you to give me your number.”

You forgot how to breathe as your eyes fixed his bottom lip, but quickly occupied your mind by looking for a pen. “And you had no time to charge it?” you asked, and wrote down your number, topping it up by adding a ‘looking forward to it’.

Aemond’s eye followed the movements of your hand, watching you scribble on the paper before handing it back to him. He gladly took it, pinning it between his index and middle finger. “You know, I haven’t been home today,” he met your eyes, and raised his eyebrows, wiggling them once to hint back to your encounter in the morning, “and the shop was busier than usual, so there wasn't any time to take care of that, too.”

You merely nodded, a slight blush tinting your cheeks as you thought back to your morning. Even though the tension between you two was still there, and as thick as ever, it was a bit more bearable with the counter between you, and the fact that you weren’t alone with enough curious eyes surrounding the two of you. However, if he didn’t bother to charge his phone, you could only phantom of how bad of a texter he had to be.

From afar, Jace watched your exchange with fury in his eyes, but being too lost in the blue of Aemond’s, you missed the way he slammed his fist onto the pool table once, his shoulders seized by Cregan to pull him back and give him what appeared to be some kind of pep talk.

It was you interrupting the pregnant pause between you two, slicing right through the tension. “I’ll bring your beers in a hot minute, they just need a touch up, alright?” you asked, and Aemond nodded, stuffing the piece of paper containing your phone number into the front pocket of his black jeans, taking a few steps backwards. “I’ll pick you up around 7:30pm.” With that, he walked back to his gang’s table with your eyes glued to his backside. When he slumped right into his former spot on the corner bench, a shy grin plastered on his face as he looked down to his thighs, you didn’t miss the way his older brother patted him on his back, and the rest of the guys seemed to praise him and hype him up.

All of the sudden, you became nervous at the fact of having to serve them their beer, and when you approached their table balancing all six pints on a tray, the stupid blush on your cheeks didn’t seem to leave at all. Most of them hadn’t paid any attention to you all the times you met and served them before, but with them watching Aemond asking you out for a date, they suddenly became eerily aware of you.

Placing the glasses down, you had a polite smile on your lips that faded when you looked at Aemond, and noticed him watching your movements, causing you to sheepishly bow your head to watch your steps before scurrying off.

Not too long after your shift had ended, you lay in bed freshly showered, and watched an episode of your favorite series. When your phone buzzed, you expected it to be Baela, probably telling you about her day at her granddad’s and asking you to join her for the bonfire, but as the bright screen illuminated your dimly lit room, you squinted your eyes and spotted an unknown number on the screen, the message below reading ‘Best not wear a short skirt or dress tomorrow evening. It’s going to be a breezy ride. – Aem.’

Your eyes flickered over the message multiple times, always stopping at the Aem at the end of it. It seemed to be a nickname, and God knew why, but it caused a thousand butterflies to erupt in your stomach, your hands growing sweaty at the thought of meeting him again tomorrow. It was going to be a completely different setting than if you were serving him in the bar, much more intimate and personal.

The sensations only became stronger when you realized that he was going to pick you up on his motorcycle. Yet, what exactly did you expect from a biker? Your breathing grew shallow, and suddenly, several outfit choices rattled through your brain, not one fitting enough for you to settle on.

And then it dawned you that you’d spend some time being pressed to his back… with him between your legs. And with your heart nearly bursting through your ribcage, you prayed to whoever was listening to give you enough strength to not give into the burning aching that teased you at the apex of your legs.

… hopefully that prayer would bear fruit.

TDYK Taglist: @heimtathurs @croatianprincess @nina2697 @sirenangelroyal @malfoytargaryen @sophie-looks-at-stuff @thetaygaryen @wintrr13 @winter-soldier-101 @kyuupidwrites @boofy1998 @janejenny666 @thekinslayersswordhand @sagelovesreading @jiminie-08 @doublesparrows @at-a-rax-ia @fan-goddess @recorddust @tsujifreya @rhaenyrarp @melsunshine @docmartinis @drwstarkeyy @kazuyatokue @nockerin

General Taglist: @watercolorskyy @nothingqueens @urmomsgirlfriend1

Bold means I couldn't tag you.

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synthshenanigans · 2 months

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hey so remember how I made color palettes based on the TMPH? well all the songs are out now so here's a crap ton of color palettes based on all the Power Hours!! :D

I might use em myself but if anyone else uses them, please tag me in your post!!! I'd love to see what you do with it :D

Also because I'm a nerd & I like explaining things, where I got the names for them are below if anyone curious bout them :}

TMPH:

Page one is more obvious; it just being the song title. The second page is named with Acts like how the first three songs were titled [both in CJs & in the original]. The entire acts all together is named Ego, hence the bottom being named Ego. And then all of the Ego/Acts together spell C.A.N. & as CJ said in the Directors Commentary, it funnily enough matches with his old YouTube channel name "Can of Soup" [or DJ soup I think it is now].

THDPH:

There aren't as many palettes since there wasn't much I could grab from sadly. But the names are more creative at least.

•Pocket Aces- Shutup Your Stupid: "Maybe I'll shoot my shot at one of those handsome faces. Have a couple drinks, make my stance advantageous; play my pair of Pocket Aces"

•Kismet's Call- Evl Ppl: "Our habits and our rituals aren't half as stacked as Kismet's Call"

•Coloring & Additives- Savages: "Savages! Who work with ratios and averages; Governments, establishments, Coloring and Additives"

•Course & Rough- A Drink to Death: "We were nice, but now I'm Coarse and Rough"

•Casa Infierno- Chonny's Inferno: "Perhaps a snack or beverage, on the house, from Casa Infierno"

•Unintentional Impression- Shutup Your Stupid: "He does his best Impression of me, says it came out 'Unintentionally' "

WWPH-

First page is again just the song titles. Page two is lines from some of the songs [Top two are Laplace's Angel & the bottom two are Memento Mori]. And page three is from the lyric "Heaven. Hell. Nirvana. Nothing. No one knows how it ends" from Memento Mori.

CJPH-

First three on page two are just song titles [Push should technically be labeled Don't Take it Personally but I named it wrong & only realized till just now 🙃. But oh well its too late now]. The bottom two are words from The Lie of Black and White.

•Misery: " 'Every moment I wait substantiates my Misery' "

•Melody: "Every person on Earth deserves to sing their Melody"

Page two is all for Push [or what should have been Push but i fucked up lol]. Streamers are colors from the party streamers on him. Makeup is the colors he used for his makeup [as best I can tell]. And Charcoal is for the charcoal soap goop on him. Buuuuut lets pretend it based on the line "My wrist and my heart where you kissed, pulled apart till it burns like Charcoal" from DTiP. Just so I feel less like an idiot.

Maybe ill post what photos I got the colors from if I feel like it. But if anyone's curious on a specific one, you can send an ask or smth & I'll gladly tell you :}

#this oddly took a good about of time to make #the bg detail top & corner things alone took me like an hour an a half for some reason #also this is like the second or third time i made color palettes so idk how good they actually are #but uh have fun with em if you can!#chonny jash #moss post #cj tmph #cj thdph #cj wwph #cjph #-atlas art-#technically art yea id say so

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courtforshort15 · 1 year

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Fever Dream

Pairing: Matt Murdock x GN Reader

Word Count: 3,100

Summary: You feel like utter death. Good thing you have a boyfriend whose mother-hen tendencies mean he’s the best at taking care of you.

Trigger warnings: None. Just my self-indulgent imagination of Matt taking care of me while I’m sick.

Masterlist

The sneeze you let out at seven in the morning is almost embarrassingly loud.

It wracks your entire body, the force of it causing you to jerk in your bed, and you barely have time to cover your nose with a tissue. Cringing, you blow your nose before tossing the tissue into the trashcan you’ve moved next to your bed, no longer having the energy to get up and walk each individual one over.

The feeling of sick came on so unexpectedly and savagely that you didn’t have time to make a grocery trip to grab any medicine, and you were currently stuck using almost-expired Benadryl for the congestion and a nearly empty bottle of ibuprofen for your headache and sore throat.

Seriously, you were mostly fine last night. Maybe a little stuffy, but nothing close to this.

With a loud groan, you call your boss on her cell phone to let her know that you won’t be in today, and the raspy tone in your voice paired with the sound of a stuffy nose was enough for her to tell you to take the rest of the week off.

“No, really, please don’t come in,” she tells you, and you can practically feel the way she’s shuddering on the other side of the line. You’ve worked with her long enough to know she’s a major germaphobe, and she’d rather miss a soft deadline by a day or two than have you anywhere near her. You’re not above using that to your advantage, and have done so in the past, especially in instances when you need an excuse to stay with Matt when he’s recovering from a night that’s rougher than usual.

“I am willing to bribe you to make sure you stay home. I will send you all the soup you need if you just stay away.”

“You got it boss lady,” you somehow manage to croak out, cringing at both the pain and the way you sound. “I’ll see you Monday.” With a sigh, you hang up with her, grateful for a large balance of PTO, and fully planning on taking her up on the soup once you have an appetite. She’ll splurge on good stuff, too.

Matt is next. Instead of calling him, you send him a quick text, knowing he’s likely already at the courthouse for the morning, and you’re unwilling to interrupt him at work. He’s less likely to check a message than take a phone call, for obvious reasons, so it's easier to escape the laser focus of his concern for just a few extra hours. Typing out the message, you let him know you’re not feeling well and unable to meet him for lunch, as you usually do on Wednesdays. Knowing him, he’ll call you the second he’s on recess, and will likely end up swinging by this evening anyway.

With a loud exhale that causes your throat to burn and offers an abrupt coughing fit, you lay back down against the pillows, and pass out.

---------

You wake up to the sound of someone pounding on your door, and it startles you enough that you nearly roll out of bed.

It takes you a few moments to get your bearings, grimacing at the way your body feels worse than when you’d fallen asleep, and you mentally curse the person interrupting your rest. It’s probably your obnoxious landlord who finds random excuses to check-in on you, much to your annoyance and Matt’s suspicion, but the man is harmless, guilty of nothing other than using far too much cologne to cover up the stale smell of body odor and of cigarettes.

You’d roll your eyes if the idea of the simple motion didn’t sound so painful.

If you weren’t already certain about having been knocked on your ass by the flu, specifically, there’s no doubt in your mind now. A throbbing headache. A throat that feels like it was being torn apart with glass. Congestion. It was all there, and all you want to do is pass out until you feel better.

The pounding on the door continues, combined with an extremely muffled voice, and deciding your body is too sore and too sick to get up, you roll back over in bed, burying your face under a pillow to drown out the noise. Another coughing fit hits you unexpectedly, and your body spasms with the force of your lungs revolting against you. When you’re done, you vaguely pick up on the silence when the pounding abruptly stops, and you sigh, grateful for the quiet once more.

Neil has given up, it seems, but you’re still bitter that your sleep has been interrupted, and the idea of sending the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen to rattle his fire escape at 1am has never felt so appealing.

You’re just about to drift off into sleep again when, not even five minutes later, the sound of your window being opened from the outside shatters the blessed silence once more.

…oh.

Guess that answers the question of who had been pounding on your door. You mentally apologize to Neil.

“Sweetheart?” His voice is quiet as he steps into your room, and you don’t need eyes to know the way he’s probably wrinkling his nose at the smell of sickness that’s wafting inside the cramped space. His sense of smell is so sensitive, and you definitely don’t envy him for it. You can only imagine how your sweat-damp skin smells, or the mouth that had only experienced half of the recommended amount of teeth brushing this morning, too weak to remain standing for long.

Nose wrinkling, you cringe on his behalf.

You feel him settle on the edge of your bed behind you, hand immediately reaching out to rub your back, and your body can’t help but instinctively arch into his touch, despite the fact that you feel like death. He trails his fingers up to the back of your neck, the touch soothing and offering comfort in a way only he can. His skin on yours is the most natural feeling in the world.

“Not feeling well, sweetheart?”

You shake your head miserably, a full body shiver shaking you all the way down to your toes, before coughing into your pillow, too sick to bother covering your mouth and trusting the pillowcase to stop the spray.

Gross.

Matt’s hand gently pulls you over with a light hand on your shoulder until you’re laying on your back, and he makes sure to adjust the blankets around you so that no warmth seeps out from underneath the covers. Your eyes remain tightly shut, unwilling to subject yourself to the bright light of your bedroom. Your head is pounding, borderline migraine material, and even the thought of sunshine makes it throb. “Just a cold?”

Shaking your head again, you open your mouth to answer. “I think it’s the flu.” Your voice is barely more than a whisper, your throat too sore to get much else out. He makes a sympathetic noise in the back of his throat. If there’s anyone who understands the feeling of your entire body being sore and in pain, it’s him.

The man, even while he runs himself ragged, hardly ever gets sick. He averages four hours of sleep a night, ends his evenings with grazes and cuts that are likely full of all the various types of bacteria known to man, drinks way less water than he should, and he still remains relatively healthy.

Maybe it’s a good thing, though, you think wryly. He’d either be the worst case of man-flu you’ve ever seen, or he would end up in a ditch somewhere, out patrolling while delirious with a fever. Your man is a hot mess on a good day, and you can’t imagine adding sickness to the foray.

You feel him lay his hand softly on your forehead, and you shudder at how cold it feels in comparison to your warm skin. Your fever must have returned with a vengeance, and you acknowledge it with a barely restrained groan.

“You feel pretty warm,” he tells you, his voice quiet and one of concern. You appreciate that he’s using a gentle tone that is kind on your ears, not wanting to add anything loud and overwhelming less it makes the headache worse. “Have you taken anything?”

“Ibuprofen when I woke up.” Finally opening your eyes, you blearily watch as he frowns, red lips tilted down at the corners. His hand is still on your forehead, but he moves it to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

“When did you wake up?”

“Seven, I think.”

He sighs, moving his hand so that it rests on your cheek. “Sweetheart, that was almost six hours ago. Have you been asleep this whole time?”

“I think so,” you whisper, watching as he shrugs his suit jacket off. He tosses it on the chair that’s in the corner of the room, face still tilted towards yours. You always seem to be his sole focus when he’s around you, and it never fails to make your heart stutter. “I fell asleep after I texted you.”

Matt leans over to place his glasses on your bedside table before he returns back to you, his face one of confusion, and his eyes looking more hazel than normal in the sunlight as they roam blindly over your form. “You didn’t text me.”

Your own eyes briefly flutter close again, even as hard as you try to keep them open. You reach up and pull his hand away from your face so that you can lace your fingers with his. His hand squeezes yours gently. “Yeah I did. I told you I wasn’t going to make lunch today.”

“I didn’t get a text from you,” he reiterates with a calm shake of his head. “I’ve been calling you for the past hour when you didn’t show up.”

“But I–” Eyes opening again, you move to sit up, but he pushes you gently back down. Your neck and shoulders immediately relax back into your pillow with a sigh. “Can you hand me my phone?”

Matt grabs your phone from where it had apparently been resting by your knee and places it into your outstretched hand without a word. His hand goes back to your cheek so that can resume rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone, and it takes great effort to not fall back to sleep and close your eyes again. Fingers weak with sickness, you press in your fingerprint to unlock your phone, noticing immediately the several calls, texts and voicemails, most of them from him but a few from Karen, too. You grimace at the obvious display of his concern, knowing the level of anxiety that had likely popped up when you didn't answer any of the calls.

No wonder he had been pounding on your door.

You open up your chat with him, wincing when you see what had happened. “I never hit send,” you tell him with a whisper, throat still rebelling against the words forcing themselves out of your throat. “I’m sorry, Matt. I really did mean to text you. I was pretty out of it.”

He leans down and presses a kiss into your forehead. His stubble briefly rasps against your skin, and you can’t help but want to lean into it, even while the texture feels scratchy on skin that seems to be more sensitive than usual. “It’s alright, sweetheart. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

You snort softly, unable to help yourself. “If you call feeling like I’m dying okay, then sure. I’m okay.”

Matt makes another sympathetic sound in the back of his throat, hand still softly rubbing your cheek. You shift in your bed, trying to burrow yourself further into the covers. He pulls the blankets tighter around you, helping them settle up around your neck. “I’m going to grab Tylenol to help bring your fever down.”

You cringe, and Matt’s brow furrows, indicating he’s caught onto the brief twitch of your face. “I don’t have any.”

“You don’t have any Tylenol?”

You cough again, this time covering your mouth to avoid coughing in his face. He doesn’t shift away from you as you do, just continues to keep his face near yours so that you don’t have to strain your voice to speak to him. “No,” you manage to rasp out when you’re done. “I’m out.”

He groans suddenly. “I depleted your stash last week, didn’t I?”

The same memory that had apparently hit him hits you a second later, the image of him holding a bloody rag to his shoulder that had taken a heavy hit flitting through your head briefly. You’d given him the last two tablets in the bottle as his lips twisted into a wry grin, promising to buy you a new bottle. You’d asked him to promise to avoid getting hit so frequently instead, the grin on your face just as dry and fond. “I– yeah, I think so.”

“I’m sorry, love. I meant to grab more for you.”

You twist your head to cover another cough. “It’s fine, I forgot about grabbing some, too.”

“Do you have Ibuprofen?” he asks as he runs a hand through his hair, still looking somewhat frustrated at himself as he shifts slightly on your bed.

“Not much, but yeah,” you say with a wince. “That bottle’s almost empty, too.”

“How about any cold medicine? Decongestants? Something for your cough?”

“No,” you reply with another grimace. To his credit, he doesn’t twist his face into the disbelief he’s surely feeling, both at himself and at you. His eye twitches, though.

“How are you out of that, too?”

“Judgmental, much?” you ask with a grin that’s far too humorous for the situation and the way everything seems to hurt, including the muscles in your face. “I wasn’t exactly planning to get this sick.”

“You should have–”

“Don’t be such a hypocrite, Matthew.”

He sighs, hand darting up to run a quick hand down his face, attempting to hide a smile that relays a level of exasperation. “What do you have, then?”

“Just Benadryl…that’s almost expired.”

Matt lets loose another loud exhale and slowly lifts his head to face the ceiling as if sarcastically thanking the universe for letting him fall for someone who seems to be so bad at taking care of themselves. You’d laugh if it wouldn’t lead to a loud coughing fit.

Pot. Kettle.

“Okay, I’m going to call Karen to see if she can bring some stuff by.”

“I don't–”

He's shaking his head before you even finish your objection. “Sweetheart, you’re so congested you can’t breathe out of your nose, and you've got a 101 degree fever. You need to take something," he tells you, and you know there’s no arguing against this man once he’s set his mind to something.

“How would you know my fever is that high?” Matt gives you the flattest look you’ve ever seen. “Okay, stupid question.”

“Just close your eyes,” he says, leaning down to kiss your forehead again. “I’m going to bring you a glass of water and some Ibuprofen, and call Karen to see if she can bring anything over.”

You nod miserably, energy suddenly draining and turning you back into a whimpering mess. He leaves the room, kicking his shoes off in the process, and you pick up your phone again once he’s out of sight, a wince twitching on your face at the notification of thirty emails that have popped up in your inbox. You open the app, scrolling down through the messages with a sigh.

“You better not be checking your email right now,” Matt’s voice calls out to you from the kitchen suddenly, and you almost drop your phone onto your face in surprise.

He knows you too well.

“I’m not,” you say as loudly as you can, which is still minimal, but you know he can hear you regardless, so you’re not too concerned. You roll over to place your phone back onto your bedside table with a loud sigh, wrist and arm feeling entirely too weak as it reaches out.

“Liar," is all he responds with, before his voice quiets down again. There’s a brief moment of silence before you pick up on the soft murmur of his voice, no doubt on the phone with Karen. The sound of your cabinet being opened and the faucet being turned on hits your ears, and you sigh at the domesticity of it all. Things of yours have been slowly migrating to his apartment in preparation of the move that’s happening in a month’s time, but there’s just something about him knowing your apartment like the back of his hand and feeling comfortable in a space that’s been solely yours for the past two years.

A few minutes later, he’s walking back into your bedroom, a glass of water in one hand, your dwindling bottle of painkillers in the other, mouth turned up in a soft, soothing smile. He helps you sit up, his arm gently snaking around your shoulders to support you, and encourages you to drink the water and toss back the pills as lips ghost across your forehead.

Even swallowing something cold makes your throat burn on the way down, and you groan in pain.

He helps you lay back down, easing you backwards and holding your weight so that you don’t just flop back onto the pillows. He pulls his arm out from underneath you and reaches out to set the glass onto your night table as he moves to stand up. You close your eyes again against the light of your room, and you hear the subtle sound of a belt being unbuckled and fabric hitting the chair in the corner.

Matt lifts up the covers and slides in beside you, his bare skin pressing up against yours as he nudges you onto your side so that he can cradle you from behind. Despite the brief chill, he quickly becomes a furnace pressed against you, and you can’t help the quiet moan that sneaks past chapped lips at the heat you hadn’t known you’d been needing.

“You’ll get sick,” you protest weakly as you settle into his chest, almost immediately soothed by the feeling of his arm wrapping around your waist.

“Don’t worry about me,” he whispers into your ear before leaning over you to kiss your cheek, settling back down behind you when he’s done, the warmth of his kiss still lingering. “Just go back to sleep, sweetheart. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Despite the sickness ravaging your body, or maybe because of it, you slip back into an easy sleep, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest behind you settling you the way it always does. Your head is pounding, your whole body aches, and you can’t breathe through your nose, but everything feels better when he’s holding you.

#matt murdock #daredevil #human disaster matt murdock #matt murdock x gn!reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fanfiction #daredevil x gn!reader #daredevil x you #daredevil x reader #daredevil fanfiction #sickfic

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thegnomelord · 1 year

Text

Beastly Urges

Pantalone x reader

MINORS DNI

Word count: 4.3k

CW: nsfw, afab Pantalone, cock and cunt used for the genitals, Dom!Bottom!Pantalone, Sub!Top!Reader, pronouns are gn(referred to as You and Beast sometimes) but reader has two cocks and has monstrous features, size difference, dom/sub, oral, cum eating, size kink, butt plugs, double penetration, anal, vaginal, belly bulging, cream pie, gags, cock slapping, marking, biting, bit of a slow burn?

Go easy on me peeps, this is my first time writing smut. Feel free to give back criticism, tell me if I'm missing any tags, or make requests!

There were plenty of reasons why a fool would think twice before crossing the Tsaritsa, chief amongst them — You; a Beast amongst men, terrifying in both appearance and merciless ferocity, hunting down all who oppose Her with reckless abandon. It doesn't matter how long or how far they run, you are always near, tracking them down to the very borders of Teyvat... or until their legs give out.

And with such renown comes gossip.

From the high society nobility all the way to the brothel whores, they wonder how you must be behind closed doors. Surely, you must be a greedy lover, no less savage in bed as you are on the battlefield. Surely, you must take all your partners can offer and then demand more, fucking your partners into the bed until you are satisfied regardless of their opinion on the matter...

Pantalone would have found such gossip annoying if it wasn't so amusing. He would sometimes even laugh when he heard the newest round of, dare he say, fantasies, the common folk came up with about you and your supposed unlucky partners.

It was a source of pride for him, knowing the true version of you the rest of the world would never see. You were... gentle, soft, nothing but feather light caresses and loving confessions muttered into his skin as you did all he asked.

If anything, you were too gentle. You handled Pantalone like he was made of glass, afraid that the moment you put more than the barest amount of pressure — he would shatter.

Last time, you had accidentally nicked his skin with a razor sharp tooth. Despite his arguments that you hadn't even drawn blood, you hadn't dared to touch him since then.

It's been two months.

And your sweet, little lover was prepared to show you the error of your ways.

You didn't suspect a thing when he greeted you with a sweet kiss the moment you took a step into your home, stealing your ability to think with every peck on the lips. Nor did you think of anything when he lured you to the bedroom with the promise of receiving more of his affection.

How that turned into you literally chained to the bed and naked as the day you were born, you still couldn't tell.

Before you could even argue, he had presented you with a second surprise — a device, something between an open mouth gag and a bit meant for horses (No doubt of Dottore's making). It kept your mouth wide open, displaying all your monstrously sharp teeth in all their grotesque glory.

He gave you a way out if you wanted to, he always did, yet despite the worry bubbling in your chest about the possible harm you could bring him... you were curious.

Slim, manicured fingers curled in your hair and pulled your head even closer. "Right there," Pantalone breathed out, grinding his body down so your tongue could worm deeper into his cunt. His thighs hugged your head like a vice, leaving no place for your teeth to go but dig into his soft flesh. Each tooth left behind dark blue imprints in the skin, but thankfully didn't draw blood, though Pantalone seemed almost disheartened, rocking his body down with a "Don't you dare stop."

Despite the time spent apart, he was as tight as you remembered, if not more, his cunt constricting around your tongue as if intending to snap it off. He didn't care, groaning as his cum pooled in your open maw, nearly choking you when you forgot to swallow. But you couldn't swallow all of it, and more often than not the mixture of his cum and your drool would escape your mouth and roll down your skin to join the wet mess on the sheets.

But Archons, he tasted Divine.

A low moan left your chest as you gulped down his fluids, your head heavy and clouded by pure bliss. You pressed your nose flush with his lightly haired groin, breathing in his scent and curling your tongue in a way you knew he liked.

He let out a high pitched moan and sharply rocked his hips into your tongue, your teeth digging into his skin, a single drop of iron tainting your taste buds—

You jerked your head back on instinct, fearful you had hurt him.

You didn't get far.

Pantalone fisted your hair, forcing your head still. Through bleary eyes, you saw him lean back— "Behave."

A harsh slap landed on the head of your cock.

Your entire body buckled as you nearly threw him off, the low shrieking of metal and the groaning of wood masking the embarrassing sounds that left your throat.

A second later two more slaps came, one on each head of your dual cocks. Pantalone sat up on his knees as he delivered a third slap, your tongue sliding out of him, which you surely would have bitten off had the gag let you. This time, there was no way for you to muffle your sounds, your body straining against the bonds, pleasure and pain burning at the base of your spine.

He wretched your head up, forcing you to meet his disappointed gaze. "You didn't touch me for two months, and now this is how you act?" He asked, a coldness in his eyes many debtors knew too well. "If you break anything, I will throw you out and won't touch you until Rex Lapis comes back to life." Even breathless, his singular threat was enough to make your heart stop. "Am I understood?"

You forced yourself to stay still, nodding your head as much as you could. A warbled "Soh-hrh." was all you could say.

His grip remained harsh, but Pantalone's eyes softened. He leaned down, obsidian black hair falling over his shoulders and around your head like a curtain, isolating you two from the world. "That's my good beast," He cooed, like you were a mongrel mutt, and you would never admit how those words made your chest burn.

He scooped up a streak of fluids from your chin. You could do nothing but watch him bring his wet fingers to your open maw, easily slipping past the hellish device.

Pantalone took great pleasure in feeling up your teeth, poking his thumb on every tooth and gently wiggling a few as if to deny their dangerous potential. Then his fingers found your waiting tongue, he hummed and let you curl your tongue around his fingers, pulling and tugging on it like it was just another toy.

Like you were just another toy.

He pressed his fingers to the back of your tongue. Your maw tried to close, but the gag in your mouth only allowed an inch of movement as you jerked back.

"Ah ah. Stay." He leaned back to sit on his knees and pulled his fingers from your mouth, punishing your body's reaction with another harsh slap to your cock head.

Clenching your eyes shut, you miraculously managed not to move. "Good." His grip relaxed, fingers gently carding through your hair as a reward. "See, that wasn't hard." His fingers returned to your mouth and you let him in.

You whined as Pantalone moved his fingers across the entire length of your tongue, your cheeks burning when you registered the taste of your cum on his skin. He let out a small laugh, letting you lick his and your cum off his fingers.

You watched as he trailed his drool covered fingers down the contours of his stomach, your spit gleaming in the firelight. Those clever fingers traced over his thighs, a groan leaving him as he pressed on the dark bruises left by you teeth before coming to rub his cock.

He let out an unabashed moan, his head lolling back. "You made me feel so good." His fingers slid further down, two of them spreading his lips so you could see a hint of his pulsing tunnel. "But it looks like you don't want to service me any longer." He huffed.

A loud whine tore through your chest, your body moving on its own to get closer to him. Only his sharp gaze kept you from tearing through the flimsy chains.

Pantalone just laughed at you, his voice both melodic and condescending. “What’s this? Has my beast changed their mind?" His fingers didn't stop moving, two of them lazily fingering his twitching hole. "It is such a shame you didn't touch me for so long. I got lonely." Your eyes were glued on his fluttering cunt, drops of his cum dripping on you and burning your skin like hot magma. "Eyes on me when I'm talking to you, Mutt."

Your eyes snapped up to meet his gaze.

“Beg,” He ordered, voice rich like wine.

Oh, what a cruel lover you have. The gag silenced any words you could form, yet you still tried. It resulted in garbled pleas and soft whimpers, you even stuck your tongue out when nothing seemed to work — offering your services like some cheap whore.

He drank in the sounds as they left you, an arrogant smile gracing his features. "You could do better." He smirked, and your heart froze, a pathetic whine leaving you. "But this will do." He said. You laid still as a statue while he moved back over your open maw, his hand finding itself back in your hair. "Make me cum, Darling, and I'll give you a reward."

How could you refuse?

You pressed yourself flush to his groin before he even had a chance to pull you close. Your teeth lightly dug into his skin, his breathy groan sending a shiver down your spine. You licked at his cock, small kitten licks at first to re-familiarize yourself with it, growing bolder as his breathing picked up. You pressed your tongue flat to his cock when he began rocking his hips, the momentum ensuring you could lick his cock from root to tip with the right amount of pressure.

The reaction was instant — Pantalone doubled over you with a groan, his things tensing around your head as fresh drops of cum dripped on your tongue. "Y-yes, just like that." Pantalone groaned, fingers curling into your hair as he rutted against your tongue. "Harder."

You did as he commanded and pressed your tongue harder to his cock, letting him rock against your maw as you tried to gulp down his cum. Then, on one rough thrust, your tongue slipped into his cunt. "Fuck!" Pantalone moaned, not even stopping, riding your tongue like it was a cock.

You could tell he was close when he began babbling, a litany of "Yes- good, Darling - just like that! Harder- Yes!" Spurring your body on to dig and twist your tongue deeper into him, to let him use you however he saw fit, the vibrations of your whimpers only adding to his pleasure.

His fingers clenched in your hair — His orgasm crashed over him, cunt constricting like a vice around your tongue as his thighs hugged your head. You milked him for all he had, doing your best to gulp down his cum, but it was futile as more would just stream down your chin.

Pantalone shivered as he slowly released you, both of you groaning when your tongue slipped out for the last time. Both of you were left breathless as he leaned back to partly sit on your chest, his bruising grip turning soft as he carded his fingers through your hair.

You looked up at him, breathes and bleary eyed. He laughed, soft and gentle. "You look wonderful like this." He cooed, scooping up the cum on your chin to watch you wordlessly clean his fingers. "Such a darling beast, all for me, yes?"

You tried to answer, but the combination of the gag and your tongue curled around his fingers made it impossible.

He giggled, and it was the most angelic thing you had ever heard. "Right you are." His hands shook when he reached for the gag, and you lifted your head to help him remove it. "How is that?" Your cheeks and the corners of your lips ached as you moved your jaw, but thankfully you couldn't taste any blood, only his cum.

Your voice was gone and your tongue didn't want to listen to you, so instead of voicing anything you simply nuzzled your head into the hand gently carding through your hair.

You thought this would be the end of this session.

You found satisfaction in his release, even if you hadn't cum yourself, but it was the norm for you; you were big in more ways than one, and both of you being busy people left little time to properly prepare, and you were fine rubbing one out after Pantalone was satisfied.

Then he spoke. "I would be remiss not to reward such good behavior."

Your eyes snapped open (when had you even closed them?) just in time to see him scoot back. He left a wet trail of cum across your entire torse, but you couldn't mind that when he ended up straddling your lap. He smirked, playfully rubbing his ass against your cocks.

You jumped, a hiss tearing through your chest. The overwhelming sensation of your abused cocks finally getting Pantalone's attention banged on your head like a hammer, yet your hips snapped up in an attempt to get more of that feeling.

"Such a simple, single-minded creature." Pantalone tsked, gently slapping your hip as a command to stay still. "I have a surprise for you."

You perked up, keeping yourself still, your eyes glued on him as he turned around on wobbly legs, putting his perfectly shaped ass on display for you.

And the surprise in it.

Not even his ass cheeks could hide the silvery base of the toy. His ring stretched obscenely around it, red, puffy and fluttering around the base with every breath he took. "Since you ignored me for so long, I had to get creative." He hissed, breathless, looking at you over his shoulder, his onyx black hair cascading over his back. "Do you like it?"

You couldn't say anything as he used one hand to grip the plug, beginning to shallowly thrust the toy into himself. "It was a-hah," He groaned, bucking his hips, his cum leaking down his thighs. "-a pain to get it." It was mesmerizing how his ring fluttered around it, clinging to every artificial vein. "But so worth it."

He braced a hand on your thigh and slowly pulled the plug out, his ass clenching even harder around the toy. It finally plopped out with an obscene sound, his ass clenching around nothing and rapidly destroying what self control you had.

And now you could see that it looked like a replica of your own cock, if a bit smaller.

You didn't know how your brain was functioning.

He laughed when he saw your expression, tossing the toy to next to your head as he turned around to face you. He reached behind himself and palmed your cock. Your hips bucked, and he flicked the head as punishment, a low whine coming out of your throat. "Behave," He reminded, "Only good beasts get their rewards."

Holding still while Pantalone rose to his shaky knees to line you up with his holes was worse than any torture you had ever inflicted or experienced, the sinfully wonderful feeling of his walls clenching around one of your cocks driving you to madness. You clenched your hands shaking as he slid down in one fluid move, skin slapping against skin as you bottomed out in him.

Both of you groaned, a high pitched keen leaving your mouth as his hands found themselves around the second cock, pressed flush between his thighs. "I had a lot of time to practice since you ignored me for so long." He explained with a scoff, rocking his hips down as he played with the head of your second cock. "It's a real shame I couldn't practice with the real thing." He hissed, clenching around you and flicking your head.

"Please!" You gasped, unaware of what you were begging for. Distantly, you could hear the chains groan as they struggled to hold you, but you couldn't force yourself to care when his clever fingers played with your slit and his sinfully tight ass fluttered around your length.

"Begging for mercy now are we?" Pantalone mocked, slowly rising and falling back down. "I shouldn't give you any after the stunt you pulled." His hiss turned into a moan as your hips snapped up just as he was descending. Yet that didn't earn his pity, and he continued to leisurely ride you, as if you were no better than the toy, his cruel hands palming your sensitive head, running his fingers over the shaft just to tightly grip the base when you'd bottom out.

Seconds passed like centuries, you didn't even know when you had started begging, only that you moaned when his fingers left your cock. "You are lucky you're so well behaved." He sighed, "Now stay still."

He rose up, his walls like a vice around your poor cock, until only the head was still inside. He pressed the head of your other cock to his cunt, stretched so wide by your monstrous tongue that the head popped in without any trouble.

But this time he couldn't take you in on the first time, his little body not used to taking in so much. He stopped a little before half way, holes fluttering and clenching around you as if his body didn't know whether it wanted to push you out or draw you in deeper. "Oh, Darling." He moaned, breathless, one hand on your stomach for support, the other hand on his stomach where your cocks bulged his stomach. "So good for me."

He rose up slowly, thighs trembling as he slid back down, drawing in half an inch more with every rise and fall. His hand clawed at your skin, whole body trembling when he finally, finally, sheathed you fully in him.

You had never done this before, mostly out of fear of hurting him, but now...He looked beautiful.

Sweat damp locks clung to his forehead, his eyes half glazed over, lips parted to let out breathy moans. You could feel his hand through the muscle of his stomach, rubbing at your heads as he clenched down on you. Even the bitten and bruised thighs were beautiful, glistening from his cum and your spit, dark blue bruises forming a brand of ownership from when your teeth had dug too deep into his skin. He spread his trembling thighs wide over hips, giving you a perfect view of his throbbing cock standing proud while his cunt clenched like a vice around you.

"Se-haah." Pantalone shivered, a blush spreading from his ears down to his chest as he rubbed you through his stomach. "See how well I fit you?"

You didn't know how he was able to speak when you were leaking your brain through your cocks as precum, pleasure so powerful it was on the cusp of pain burning at the base of your spine and in the pit of your stomach.

He braced both hands on your stomach and rocked his hips down. "Fuck!" You both moaned so loud you were certain half of Teyvat heard you. He began rising and falling back on your shafts achingly slowly, thighs trembling, core muscles tense. "Oh, yes!" He groaned as your hips gently snapped up to meet his downward thrust.

You continued this slow pace until you were at the cusp of madness, fire burning in your veins as you attempted to buck up, only fail when he would rise up so you couldn't get deeper in him. You whined, a tightness in your belly, you needed more of his heat, you needed more of him!

"Wh-hah, what's wrong?" Pantalone mockingly asked, clawing at your stomach as he rode you even slower. "Not sati-fuck- satisfied?"

You nodded, clenching your teeth, the chains groaning louder in your ears.

He peered at you from beneath his lashes, "This -archons why are you big-" He groaned, rising up and stopping there, keeping just the heads of your cocks inside him. "This is how I felt all those two months." He growled as you whined, not budging no matter how much you begged and whined.

"If you don't lik- hah- like it, do something about it." He hugged, gently slapping your stomach as you once again tried to buck up into his tight heat. "Or-" He looked you straight in the eyes, a devious smirk on his lips. "-shall I go back to the toys?"

Snap!

Next thing you knew, you were sat up. Both hands gripping his thighs and forcing him down as you snapped your hips up.

"Yes!" He shouted so all Snezhnaya could hear, clenching around you like a vice.

His thighs shook as you helped him rise and fall while fucking up into him, using him like a toy to your heart's content while he moaned and groaned.

Pantalone let out the sweetest moans, trying to silence them by hiding his head in the crook of your neck as he bounced on top of you, yet it was futile. Moaned order of "Like that, go on, harder, please!" rung in your ears like a mantra as he pressed searing kisses on your skin, winding his arms around your neck to get you even closer to him.

You felt his lips over your pulse point, pressing a kiss there before he bit you — your hips snapped up sharply, all caution flying with the wind.

You snarled, tugging him closer to you with a bruising grip as you fucked up into him, bullying your way into his clenching holes until he was screaming your name between his moans.

His holes clenched around you tightly, destroying any lingering worry when his hips would fight against your grip every time you'd pull out, his body so desperate to have you in him that he couldn't wait the second it would take you to snap your hips into him.

You could tell he was close, silky soft tunnels fluttering around your shafts before gripping them like a vice. You pressed the pad of your finger to his cock, and he let out a broken moan as you fucked him, rubbing his cock every time you lifted him up just so you could hear the fucked out sounds he moaned into your skin.

Itching need gnawed on your brain, the familiar pressure in your belly telling you that you wouldn't last long. "Close," You hissed out, hugging his body close to yours, caging his smaller body in your bulk, safe and sound from the rest of the world in your embrace. "Please."

"Yes yes yes go-" he gasped out, his hands gripping your shoulders, as you rubbed his cock. "Go on, inside! Cum inside!" His walls clenched around you, threatening to snap your cocks off, as with a thunderous shout he came, biting your pulse point again.

Your own release shot through you like lightning, frazzling your brain as you shot your loads, Pantalone letting out a broken moan as you filled him.

Archons, he had missed this. He forgot how much he loved it when you filled him up, your hot release bulging his stomach even more, proclaiming that you were his and no one else's. "Good, so good darling," He moaned, babbling, completely unaware of his words as you both try to catch your breaths.

You tried to pull out, but he stopped you, grumbling something under his breath as his holes clenched around you. "Don't." He mumbled into your neck, hugging you closer to himself.

Resigned, you lied back on the bed, laying Pantalone on your chest. Your fingers ghosted over the black and blue bruises forming all over his pelvis, long scratch marks left by your claws only now starting to clot.

"Quit that, I can see what you're thinking, dear." Pantalone lightly swatting at your chest.

"But-" He cut you off by gently kissing a trail up your throat, not minding the sweat, drool, and his own cum staining your skin.

"Let me remind you that I wanted this." He clenched around you, pleasured pain burning up your spine. You clenched your teeth and hissed, but he just chuckled. "I wanted you to be rough with me."

"You could have asked." You mumbled,

"And you wouldn't have agreed to it." He just rolled his eyes, resting his head on your chest as his fingers traced mindless patterns on your skin.

A heavy sigh left your chest as you apologized for the two months you didn't touch him, it was never in your intentions to ignore him.

"Oh, my darling beast." Pantalone sighed, a sweet smile gracing his features. He reached out to cradle your cheeks, pulling you down into a kiss, not bothered by your sharp teeth. "Such a gentle beast," he sighed against your lips, kissing you once more. "Only for me?"

"Only for you," You agreed, chest light like a feather.

"Good," he leaned back, lifting himself up by bracing his hands on your stomach. Then his eyes narrowed and he swatted your chest. "You're paying to fix the headboard, you brute."

You turned your head - sure enough, you had shattered the ornate headboard the chains had been attached to, the broken cuffs still attached to your wrists... You couldn't find it in yourself to feel too bad about it.

"Later," You said and quickly picked him up as you stood up. He yelped, clinging to you, drops of your cum getting past the plug created by your shafts, leaving a trail as you walked. "Bath?"

He nodded his head, "Sounds lovely." He kissed your neck, mumbling into your skin, "I just imported new conditioner from Sumeru, the merchant said it should do wonders for your hair."

You just smiled; He had taken care of you, now it was your turn to take care of him.

#Centerpieces of the Hoard #pantalone #top reader #genshin impact smut #genshin impact #x reader #sub reader #bottom pantalone #dom genshin x sub reader #dom pantalone #gender neutral pronouns #genshin pantalone #I spent too much time on this #bottom genshin #pantalone x reader #switch pantalone #switch reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin

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neoyongz · 9 months

Text

cigarette 🚬 | alex turner x reader. (fem) / smut

from the first time you saw alex smoking, you knew exactly what you wanted him to do to with that cigarette.

warnings: soft dom alex, bdsm (burning kink), praise kink, fluff ending?

word count: 3.6k

disclaimer: english is not my first language so, in advantage, i apologize for grammar mistakes.

it's been a while since you saw him for the last time. almost a month, where u couldn't care less about him. last time you two found yourselves in a bed was... rough, but not in a sexy way. he was kinda high and wanted some quick sex, so he called you, knowing you would accept it.

it wasn't like you were his casual groupie, you two were friends but he was so busy that he couldn't even remember to call you or even send a message. you expected something like that, obviously, with such a busy and rushed life he had.

you heard some footsteps, which you easily recalled on who was with you. none other than him.

"you're late. it's 23.50pm"

"i know... the traffic was wild. sorry"

"never asked for an excuse, alexander"

he laughed and lit a cigarette he took from his pocket, not even looking at the "no smoking" sign. he went to the balcony and left his right hand on the railing.

"never asked you to clap back anyway" a cloud of smoke came out of his lips.

"yeah... i don't care. why did you call me?"

"'cause i wanted? i don't have a specific reason today. just wanted to see ya" he smiled as he heard your steps right behind his back. your arms found their way around his waist as you left your head fall to his right shoulder.

"that's what you always say..." you laughed.

"is that bad?"

"nah" you caressed his tummy as he let go another cloud of smoke.

"you like?" he offered you his cig.

you accepted easily. you never really liked to smoke regularly but if it was for alex, you'd do it everyday.

the smoke left your red painted lips making sure it didn't hit alex's hair.

you took his cigarette, making him turn around to look at him right in the eyes. his big brown eyes got you crazy, you die everytime he looks at you, questioning if you really deserved to be looked at by him.

"what are you doing?"

"trying to get your attention. is the view more interesting than me?"

"it isn't... i just didn't want to blow smoke on your face" he joked, taking a little strand of hair off of your face.

"that's... considerate" you stole a kiss from him, making the both of you smile. the taste of tobacco in your mouth never felt tastier, since it was from alex's lips.

another kiss came, and then another, until he took your chin and kissed you the right way. the way he knew you liked.

he tried getting his tounge on your mouth during the kiss to make it a bit some savage, first doing it slowly and then going all in. his hands went to your waist, which he loved.

suddenly, you felt the need to separate to search for some fresh air.

"do you remember what i told you the last time?"

"uhm... no?"

"of course you do" you laughed as you lifted the cigarette to your lips.

"oh... the cig thing" he smiled in a way only you could understand.

staying in the same position, he made you walk backwards until you felt the bed right behind you, and you sat there.

"are you sure, babe?" he asked politely. he was rough on sex but he always took care of you.

you smiled, and he took that as a "yes". you gave him the cigarette and closed your eyes, as you felt excited to finally meet your fantasy.

you always wanted him to do something "edgy" on you. some people may see it as crazy but, the thought of him leaving as much marks as he wanted from burning your precious skin with his cigarette was stablished on your mind since you first fucked him.

it was something you knew would hurt, and that was it's charm. it was risky, and the adrenaline of feeling that extreame heat from the cigarette in any part of your body, at any moment got you excited.

this fantasy started when you first ever saw him smoke. nothing surprising, but it was sexy for some reason. very sexy. obviously, you were afraid of telling him about your fantasy, not everyone likes hard kinks so you were happy that, not only he agreed to do it, but he also liked it.

you felt butterflies on your stomach as he started kissing your neck very, very slowly. so slowly it could kill you. he wanted you to melt into his kisses, to relax and make sure everything was going to be alright. and when you less expected it, he licked the other side of your neck, knowing damn well how much you liked being kissed and licked there. and just as he wanted, you slowly started melting into his lips, feeling his left arm go behind your back.

your eyes stayed closed and a smile started showing up on your lips, as you patiently waited for a kiss.

well, that never came. not yet.

another kiss was sent to your neck, but now with a burning feeling in your thigh; you smiled and whimpered, feeling finally satisfied with your fantasy. but you wanted more, so you asked for it.

your hands went to his chest, softly caressing it while unbuttoning his white shirt.

you stopped suddenly when you felt another burning spot on your knee, but this time it hurt more. you jumped a little by surprise and alex laughed.

"you weren't expecting that one, angel?"

he knew how much you liked to be called angel. as if he was the devil himself trying to crush your angelic inocence with his burning kisses.

the smile on your face made him know you liked it, so he countinued with a third shot. this time, right at where your shirt would allow him to see your chest.

his left index finger traced from your neck to your tits, right before taking your shirt off.

"keep your eyes closed" he threw the shirt god knows where and kissed you, taking his free hand to your waist and getting you to lay on your back in the bed.

the kiss was needy, full of heat from both bodies. he approached the cigarette to your neck and left a little burn mark there, rapidly taking it to your collarbones and leaving another one there. your soft moans were music to his ears, motivating him to keep doing his job. you would've never imagined he'd like doing these kind of things.

you whimpered his name softly when he burned your neck again, making him feel a fast electric shock running down to his dick. you knew he liked it because, unconsciously, he rubbed his pelvis into yours. it was something he would always do. not really trying to get youself into dominance, but watchin

still keeping your mouth busy, separated to let you get a breath of air and then kept going, making his right hand travel to your hips as he left there one of the last burning spots for now.

he lifted the cigarette to his lips and a had a puff from it, blowing the smoke on your neck and leaving a little burn mark right there. he left the cigarette on the ashtray and focused on taking your bra off, but not the regular way. he knew it would be too predictable for you.

he bit the lace and went south to reveal one of your breasts, and as it didn't feel like he was doing it with his hand, you opened your eyes, delighting yourself with the view of him biting your bra and taking it off with a promiscous smile. you couldn't have a better view.

"i don't recall asking you to open your eyes"

"shut up, turner" you laughed and placed your hand on his chin to lift him up. "i never asked you to take my clothes off either"

you both smiled and kissed, right before pushing him to the bed to sit on his lap. your hands went to his chest, travelling south all the way to his belt, playing with it trying to tease him. just by touching, you could sense that the pants became anoying for him and you wouldn't please him by taking them off.

the kiss became more desperate as his need for being touched started growing, whispering "take it off" on your lips. you loved seeing how desperate he was. he needed you.

"and what if i don't?" you separated only a few centimeters from his puffy lips to catch some air.

"aw, don't start now"

he moaned when you started softly massaging his bulge before unzipping the pant and taking the belt off. you sneaked your hand into his underwear and reached his cock, already full hard, thinking about what should your next move be.

"close your eyes" you whispered.

he obeyed you and did it. you took the cigarette and went down to his crotch, taking his dick and as you gave it the first lick, you pressed the cigarette on his thigh, making him gasp by surprise. his eyes were widely opened; he grabbed your hair and lifted an eyebrow.

"you're not the dominant one here" he slowly pressed your face into his dick, making you take it in your mouth before you even thought about doing so.

half enjoying it and half scared he didn't like it, you started licking his dick from the bottom to the top, sucking the tip and giving some kisses there. you took the first half in your mouth and jerked off the rest to give you some time for preparing before taking it all.

some minutes passed while you sucked his dick slowly, making him even more desperate: he was leaking pre-cum all over, and when he didn't expect it, you took his whole cock in your mouth, staying there for some seconds just to hear his moans. he thighted his grip on your hair and closed his eyes, moving his hips slowly to fuck your mouth.

after opening his eyes, he moved his sight down to see how he fucked your mouth, your eyes closed and some drawned moans and whimpers coming out of your puffy red lips. you didn't want to move, you wanted him to guide you into pleasure as his warm and hard cock filled your bucal cavity with his now faster movements. suddenly, you tapped his arm so you could catch some air, it wasn't like his dick was something easy to take.

"you ok?" he asked. it wasn't like he didn't care about you either.

"mhm" you smiled and gave his cock another lick, stealing a little moan from him. "al, please"

he knew exactly what you meant by that. he got his torso up and layed on the head of bed, making you sit on his lap. his left hand travelled to your waist as his right one went down to pull out your pants and underwear, all in one try. he came back to you by putting his index finger in the middle of your lips searching for your entrance. a minute after he softly massaged it enough to get you wet again, he pushed two fingers inside making sure it didn't hurt by looking closely at your facial expression, which showed nothing else than pleasure.

your moans filled the room, even if you were trying to drown them by pushing your face to his neck as he moved his fingers inside of you stroking your walls gently.

when he was sure that it wasn't going to hurt, he pushed even further trying to find your g-spot, which he knew he had found by your noisy and desperate whimpers. you approached his ear and gave some kisses on his lobe, moaning his name when he touched your spot again.

it felt like heaven, being touched by such a man. and he did it well too.

"alex... fuck, please" you begged him again, your need to ride him was growing nonstop.

"wait a little more, princess, please. otherwise it'll hurt" he kissed your cheek as he introduced a third finger, curling them to strech your walls a little more.

"but... al" you looked at him with big doe eyes, almost as if you were screaming please with your eyes.

"no, you have to wait. i don't want to hurt you, babe" he kissed you while moving his fingers slowly, and getting the palm of his hand to massage your clit. that made you feel on fucking paradise.

you reflected your desperation onto the kiss, playing with his tounge and putting your hands on his chest searching for his nipples, gently caressing them as he rubbed your clit slowly. even if he was kissing you, you couldn't stop your moans and whimpers, letting them go in his mouth.

he tried to reach your spot again by pushing your fingers further, and so he did. you scratched his chest with your nails as you let some gasps scape from your lips. alex noticed your reaction and separated himself from to kiss.

"did it hurt, babe?" he slowered the pace of his finger movements to let you catch your breath.

"no, it's just... fuck" you layed on his chest while hugging his neck. "i'm so close, please, just do it now, don't worry about the condom”

"your wishes are my orders, princess"

after saying that, you felt a little embarrased, how much did you wanted to get fucked to not want him to waste time in putting the condom? actually, he liked it. he liked how needy you were.

he took his fingers out gently, leaving you feeling helpless at your need to be fucked. you wanted him really bad, you simply couldn't wait to be filled by him.

he grabbed the lube bottle and spread some on his dick, massaging it up and down to get prepared. he aligned it to your entrance and slowly let it slip inside of you, stealing some whimpers from you.

"al, please" you cried a little, hugging him. he caressed your hair and gave you a kiss on the forehead as he felt fully inside of you.

"calm down cutie, it's okay, i'm here" alex loved to see you helpless and fully devoted to him as if your life depended on it. "does it feel good?"

"yeah, yeah" you smiled and gave him a kiss.

"make me proud now" he let his hands fall to your waist to grab it and start moving you up and down effortlesly.

you always obey alex and today wasn't the exception. you started doing little jumps, feeling full in all senses and enjoying being completely devoted to him. you wanted to be his, only his and no one else. not because of how good he fucked, but because of him as a whole. and if he wanted you to make him proud, you would do it.

you sped up the pace of your jumps and you tried to hide your face on his neck, but he stopped you from doing it. alex grabbed your chin and made you look up at him.

"don't hide, princess. let me see you enjoy it" he kissed you and thightened his grip when you closed your eyes.

"open. i wanna see those big eyes" alex loved when you looked at him with doe eyes, begging him to fuck you.

it made you embarrased when you noticed that you were already looking at him like that even if you didn't wanted to. you kept moving, now faster than before, switching from jumping to rubbing your clit on his pelvis by going back and forth.

obviously you're not the only one enjoying this, alex was clearly enjoying every second of it too. he loved to make you feel good, to fill you up and being the only thought on your mind. he'll never forget the time he found you touching yourself while blatantly moaning his name out loud. god only knows how good he fucked you that night.

but today he was being soft, he wanted to take care of you. you two fucked roughly too many times to do it again, and none of you felt like doing it either. you two wanted to feel every inch of each other, every breath, every kiss, every touch, everything. you wanted to feel him and he wanted to feel you. he loved feeling you. he loved touching you. you were his muse.

"if you only ever saw how pretty you look" he smiled and grabbed your waist strongly enough to stop your jumps. "stay just like that please"

alex lifted his knees and got in a comfortable position to start pushing his cock inside of you, never taking his eyes off of yours. your expression reflected everything he wanted to seem pleasure, excitement and the rush of tears he loved to see running down your cheeks as he fucked you. he dried your tears with his thumb and whispered something you couldn't hear because of your own moans right before he gave you the most passionate kiss you've ever recieved.

his movements started becoming faster as he felt he was close: he grabbed your cheek and made the kiss feel needy by letting go some moans on your lips, even cursing. with his other hand, alex hugged you by the waist and got you even closer to his body so he could fuck you faster, finally hitting your spot multiple times. you hugged him and buried your face in his chest trying to drown a scream.

"are you close?" you asked him with your eyes full of pleasure tears.

alex gave you a "yes" by shaking his head and stopped moving, took his dick out and started jerking off by looking at you right in the eye with a smile. he kissed you softly and licked your bottom lip, went down to your neck and left a little hickey on there.

he took one of your hands and placed it on his cock, putting his on top of yours to make you jerk him off.

not much time passed before alex came on your hand while letting go a moan from his puffy pink lips and smiled again as you didn't stop jerking him off.

you whispered his name and took his hand to your inner thigh, giving him the signal that you were close too and wanted him to touch you.

"al, please" you smiled and kissed his cheek, all blushed and breathing fast.

alex took two of his fingers to your clit, massaging it and trying to search your entrance with a third finger. once he found it, he massaged it without introducing his finger, only to tease you a bit. your moans could be the death of him; he would always speed up his movements just to hear you moan louder.

he kept teasing you by introducing his finger just a little while massaging your clit, enough to make you melt into his arms and close your eyes as you felt closer and closer to your orgasm.

your last words were nothing else than his name before cumming in his hand, unleashing every groan or scream you could have been retaining.

alex took his hand off and placed it on one of your ass cheeks to give it a slap and smiled all blushed.

"babe" alex whispered and played with your hair.

"mhm?"

"i love you"

you inmmediately felt a bunch of butterflies in your stomach, because, even if you didn't wanted to admit it, you loved him too. who wouldn't?

"i love you too, al. you're amazing" you buried your face into his chest and took the cigarette to have a puff.

"did you like it? did it hurt?"

"nah, it didn't. i really loved it" you gave him the cigarette and hugged him again. "by the way... uhm, was i wrong for doing it on your thigh?"

"no, you weren't. i liked it too" he laughed and blowed a cloud of smoke into the air, making sure it didn't hit your hair. he gave you the cigarette again before saying "do it".

"are you sure?"

"yeah, i want both of us to have marks from the other" alex closed his eyes to leave the placement choice up to you. you pressed the cigarette into his collarbone, making him gasp.

"did it hurt?" you said, worrying about the pain level. you weren't sure if al really liked pain on him, so you kissed the mark.

"just a little, but it's okay" he left a kiss on your forehead and took the cigarette, leaving it on the ashtray. "you know what? i missed you"

"i did too, babe. i thought you were not going to call me ever again..." you really did thought about that. even if you two were... friends? you still mised him. a lot.

"how could i? you know i always miss your kisses. i'm just too busy... and i hate it. i wanna be with you. can we stay here?" he took a blanket and placed it on top of both bodies.

"sure" you smiled and layed on his side, still holding the hug.

you closed your eyes and smelt the fragance on his neck, which was almost undetectable from the cigarette smell. well, what they said about him was partially right: "he was shy and smelt like cigarettes". and how could you not fall in love with someone like that?

hugging him, with your eyes closed, half asleep and half awake, that's when you noticed how madly in love you were with alex. and lucky you, because he was too.

#alex turner #alex turner smut #arctic monkeys #alex turner x reader #alex turner x you #alex turner x y/n #alex turner imagine #alex turner fanfic

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animentality · 10 months

Text

I saw Elemental and while it was far better than it looked, I had some issues.

First off, fantasy racism is hard to do properly because most writers make the fatal error of making the oppressed people too powerful.

Like X men. Oh, it's a metaphor for racism against black people in America...except black people don't shoot fucking death killing laserbeams from their buttholes every time they take a fart.

Or say, Zootopia. A well meaning allegory, but it still implies people of color are actually a threat to the rest of the population???

Like I don't care if a "bunny can go savage."

You still present the oppressed race, of predators, as being scarier and bigger and more easily able to hurt others.

So Elemental had the same issues.

It basically said, well, the fire people are the last wave of immigrants. They are discriminated against the most because they are new. They speak another language and no one likes them because they burn things and they can hurt the rest of us, so we keep them in these segregated communities, that are more fire safe.

Now here's the issue with that, if you haven't already noticed...

Once again, we get a race of people who are a thinly veiled metaphor for immigrants...but the issue is...

The fire people ARE a legitimate threat to the earthy, leafy people. They can literally kill them. They literally burn off pieces of their bodies in the damn film.

Now technically the wind and water people are less in danger, but we literally see in the movie that the fire people are WAY more of a threat than any other people. The main character literally blows the fuck up.

She destroys several plot important things when she can't control her temper!!! She destroys her own father's shop. Several times.

It's implied that fire people can also EVAPORATE the water people too.

So therein lies the issue.

If we saw the water people being more destructive, I could forgive it! If we saw more equal distrust between all the people, then maybe I could buy it. There ARE hints that the wind people have an affinity for lightning, which you would think could be a destructive force too, just as much a threat to water! And water can douse fire, right? So that's also bad, and that at least has some basis in the film?

But the problem is that the larger society only sees fire as bad...and the metaphor doesn't come across, when you focus on just fire and show us the many, many bad things fire can and does do to the other elements.

Now here's the thing that really annoys me.

The racism/discrimination against immigrants metaphor was okay. It had some nuance, at least. I enjoyed some of the very thoughtful discussions of what it means to be a second generation immigrant and the stresses of trying to live up to your parents' expectations of you.

I actually enjoyed the romance too. They were oddly sweet, and the heroic sacrifice in the end was genuinely touching.

But the movie's racism metaphor was too strong, and it has bad implications, given how much of a threat all of the races are to each other, whether it's equally divided between them or not.

This is not at all applicable to real life. Our differences are not so fucking fundamental. They are cultural and only very, very slightly biological. Our DNA is not so fucking different that this metaphor works, at all.

These kind of movies make the unintentional point that races are cut and dry categories, and all we need to do is accept these alien creatures so different from us into our society.

This is not true.

Like what the fuck. This is so not true. Every single race on earth can and does reproduce with one another, plus we've all been intermixed since the beginning of fucking time.

So that metaphor just breaks itself, in my opinion.

Now here's my suggestion.

This movie should've been a metaphor for disability accomodations.

And hear me out, right?

The fire people CANNOT go to several places. Places entirely underwater, or partially submerged, places covered in foliage, where they might burn things. It is a central theme, that fire people are barred from certain places because they simply haven't bothered to make those places accessible to them.

See, that's a much more palatable and less problematic theme/metaphor to draw from!

The main character wants to see this plant that only grows underwater, but she's never gotten to see it because it's in this weird stadium that's underwater, and they simply haven't tried to make it accessible to fire people.

Plus, water people trains are constantly throwing water down on fire town, and water is a huge threat to fire people, and the whole city seems to run on water transport, and i think, but im not sure, it's stated that water people came first, and that's why elemental city is mostly catered to them?

But there's a great moral there!

There's no reason fire people can't be in certain public spaces! There should be laws forcing all earth spaces to have fire safe accommodations, like metal or clay flooring in all necessary areas!

That museum should've had some kind of tunnel for fire people to walk through!

It should be required for all public areas that there be metal or clay or glass crossing certain areas, so that fire people can still reasonably access everything that the other people can access!

Like ramps and elevator and railings, in real life!

And it's such a shame, because the protagonist has a talent for shaping glass. For making art.

It's implied she might end up working for her boyfriend's mom, who's an architect!!!

The protagonist should've been a fucking architect, who EXPLICITLY dedicates herself to making the rest of the city accessible to her own people!!! So they can get out of fire town and live amongst the rest of them!

At the end, it's implied more people are coming to fire town...but for no fucking reason. They just go there now.

But the protagonist, Ember, really needed to be a driving force.

She needed to be a metaphor for accessibility in public spaces, because that's a much better parallel than just racism itself.

If you toned down the "destructiveness" of fire and explained that fire people are unfairly excluded from public life simply because it's easier for the other people to ignore them and not care about their needs...then you have a far less problematic story, with a much more sensitive and interesting take on disability discrimination.

Ember needed to be an advocate, someone who tries to bring her people into the wider world, and not the wider people into her world.

There is NO reason fire people could not be allowed to participate in public life.

And there was no reason fire people had to be pitted so hard against every other race.

Elemental was a really fun movie, with beautiful animation and some very well thought out ideas for how the city worked.

But it failed as a racism/immigration allegory.

It could've been far more nuanced and complex, if it had bothered to talk more about how fire people need accomodations, rather than just, fire people hate everyone else, and everyone else hates fire people.

#elemental #disney #racism allegory #disability allegory #fantasy racism #writing #writers on tumblr

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