#i just wish my body would allow me to have good things o(-< | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

psychedelic-ink · 8 months

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𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍

body piercer!joel miller x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni, modern au, no outbreak au

word count: 4.7k

summary: you finally go and get your nipples pierced.

warnings: reader has tattoos & has flat/small nipples which is the only physical description in this fic, nipple play, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, joel miller with a tongue piercing, lots of teasing, sexual tension, tattoo kink??? joel is really into them

a/n: this fic literally wouldn't exist if not for @swiftispunk's fic flesh and metal after reading it and screaming about it (and also reading articles about it) this fic was born, enjoy xx

special thanks to @johnwatsn for the beta! 💞

It’s late. The faint buzz of the neon sign is loud in your ears, taunting, mocking you for just staring inside instead of going in. Your face is illuminated with a red hue, the words BODY PIERCING burning into your irises. And despite the tacky neon sign, the inside looks quite clean. You would know, you’ve been stalking their Instagram page for a while now.

There’s no one inside and you’re contemplating whether or not you should just get on with it. The idea of getting your nipples pierced had been a vague thought until recently. You desperately needed a change, you wanted something new and exciting. You wanted to feel sexy again. Your ex had certainly done a decent amount of damage to your self-esteem and that, plus your already low view of yourself, did not help your brain to see the good of you.

So many things could go wrong, you’ve read multiple articles about it. Your body might reject the piercing, it might leave a scar, irritate it. . .

G Suddenly, a brisk burst of frigid air gently caresses your cheeks, causing you to instinctively step back. Your gaze swiftly shifts from the interior of the shop to the door, where you notice that someone has just opened it, allowing the chilly air from the air conditioning inside to spill out.

Joel Miller, the shop's number one body piercer. Your cheeks burn, your pulse quickens, the sound of it flooding your ears. He’s tall and broad, his brown eyes staring at you with utter amusement. As you continue to just blatantly stare at him, he cocks his head to the side with a crooked smile.

“I’m closin’ in half an hour, sweetheart. If you’re thinkin’ of comin’ in, I’d do it now.”

“O–Oh,” you swallow thickly. “I can come back tomorrow if you’re closing up, sorry to bother you.”

He raises an eyebrow, his smile falling, “Well, I didn’t quite say that, now, did I?” Come on in, darlin’. Tell me what you need.”

Tell him what you need—your heart beats in your throat, the lazy drawl of his words going directly between your legs. You mentally curse at yourself. How touch-starved are you? He’s just being polite. You’re the customer, it would’ve been weird if he just shooed you away.

Joel takes a step to the side, silently granting permission for you to enter. You stroll past him, making your way inside without uttering a word. The air conditioning is a blessing on your sweat-soaked skin. Even though you don’t have to, you briefly look at your surroundings. Just like your research had entailed, the shop was squeaky clean.

“So,” Joel clears his throat. “What can I do you for, sweetheart?”

Some part of you wishes that he could just understand without you having to form the words. You lick the back of your teeth, suddenly it’s very hard to breathe.

“I. . . wanted to get my nipples pierced—if that’s okay?”

“Of course, it is,” he smiles, much softer compared to his crooked smirk from before. “I’m Joel by the way,” he extends his hand and you take it with a sigh of relief, you feel much lighter now—

“I know.”

Your eyes go wide, both your hands stopping mid-shake. Joel’s amused glance is back again, his smile stretching into a grin, “You know?”

“I mean—well, I did research before I came here,” you answer quickly, aggressively almost, and release his hand. His grin only wides, a puff of air escaping his nostrils. “So that’s how I know your name.”

“Aren’t you the cautious one,” he turns on his heel and points towards the back. “If you’re set on what you want we can just head inside, I can explain the rest there.”

“Sure.”

Just as you both take a step you remember what you initially wanted to ask before going through with it and stop. Joel senses your lack of movement, turning around, you notice the furrow between his brow. “I actually wanted to ask something before we went on with it.”

“I’m all ears.”

Oh god, this is embarrassing, “So. . . my nipples are. . .flat—or is it more proper to call it small? I don’t know. Would that be an issue?”

The glimmer in his eyes returns full force, his expression of worry melting away, “I’ve never met a nipple I couldn’t pierce,” he teases. “So no need to worry that pretty head of yours.”

“Do you sweet talk with all your clients?” you ask, your lips twitching into a smile. You don’t know what it is, but you feel comfortable with him. Maybe it’s because you’ve been stalking his shop for so long. Either way, it’s a nice feeling.

“Only with the ones that know my name before I meet them.” His eyes gradually move up and down your body, eating you up. His tongue darts out and swipes over his bottom lip. You notice the faint shimmer that belongs to a silver tongue piercing. “And the ones that’ve been starin’ into my shop for least an hour.”

Joel takes a step closer and you feel your breath dissipating from your lungs. Dark, charcoal eyes sweep across your face. Your heartbeat is like a fearful hummingbird, hitting the bone cage in rapid succession. You swallow. By some miracle, you hold his gaze.

“You ready to go, little rabbit?”

All the tension drains from your bones and you burst out laughing, “Rabbit?” you giggle, your amusement only growing when you see his wide smile. “What the hell?”

“There’s that pretty smile,” he hums, pulling back. Joel stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Now that you’re relaxed we can get to business. We can stop whenever, so don’t feel pressured when you’re in the chair. You can just leave.”

You nod along as you follow him inside. You’re relieved when you see that it’s a spacious room with bright lighting that doesn’t irritate your eyes.

“First things first, let's pick out the piercing.” Joel walks towards one of the small glass cases and pulls out one of the drawers. Your excitement builds as he presents them to you. “Any ticklin’ your fancy?”

The light above gleams against the glass, there are so many and for a split second, you want them all. You never thought you would be labeling piercings as pretty. Looking them over, you decide you definitely want barbells instead of hoops. Now the question is which barbell one do you want?

“So many,” you mutter, eyes scanning over them again and again. You see one that says ‘cum here’ on each heart-shaped barbell. There’s a couple of them that say different things; kiss here, bite me, lick me— a shudder rolls down your spine. Your mind instantly fills with indecent thoughts, most of them staring at the man still patiently holding the glass case. You bite the inside of your cheek.

You bet he has the most skillful tongue—

“Oh, that one!” you exclaim suddenly, pointing at one in the shape of a heart. It’s decorated in shimmering rhinestones, the metal gold. When he inserts it, the heart would be framing your nipple. “It’s so cute.”

“You like shiny things, huh?” he smiles. “You gotta good eye, it’ll look good on you.”

Your breath catches in your throat, “Thanks.”

“Now lay on the bed, darlin’.”

It takes you a second to realize he’s talking about the piercing bed. You’re about to lay on it before he stops you with a raised hand. “Take off your top.”

“Most guys buy me dinner first.”

“Har har very funny,” he rolls his eyes but he’s smiling, which in return makes you lightheaded. The expression is like a drug and you want to see more of it. More and more and more. “Besides, if you have a flat nipple I’m gonna need to stimulate it.”

“Excuse me?”

Joel is unaware of your blundering, he arranges the fresh, disposable drape and sterile forceps, placing it on the small portable workstation, “If you’re uncomfortable with that I can use the suction device too,” he answers nonchalantly. You watch breathlessly as he pulls on his black rubber gloves and finally turns to you. He raises an eyebrow. “Why’s your top still on?”

“I—I just wasn’t aware nipple play was involved.”

“You do realize where you’re gettin’ pierced right?” his lips twitch up. “You’re not drunk, are you sweetheart?”

“Very funny,” you answer, mimicking his tone from before. “But anyway, okay, I guess I’m just a bit nervous.”

“Understandable,” you point towards the endless draws. “Want me to get the suction device?”

“God, no,” you let out a low chuckle. “Your fingers are just fine.”

“Never had any complaints before.”

Your stomach jumps, arousal caressing your skin similar to a summer breeze. The darkness in his eyes is back, his gaze intense and nerve-wracking.

“Will it hurt?” you mumble.

“I ain’t gonna lie so yeah, it will.”

“How much?”

“Depends, really.”

Your shoulders drop.

“Mine didn’t hurt that bad, to be honest, but my pain tolerance is quite high,” he mutters to himself rather than to you. He follows up with another sentence, probably something to soothe your worry but your brain is locked on to something very specific he just said.

“You have nipple piercings?” you ask incredulously. “Really?”

“I do, though it was more of a bet kind of situation. My brother loooves causing me trouble,” he sighs and crosses his arms over the expanse of his chest. “But joke’s on him because I liked how they looked so I kept them.”

“Can. . . Can I see?”

“You gonna be a good girl and keep still when I pierce you?” Joel teases. You nod furiously, lips pressed tightly together. “A’right then.” He curls his fingers into the hem of his shirt and lifts it. Your eyes are glued to his chest—his entire torso. You see the way a soft trail of draw hair starts from his bellybutton and disappears under his jeans, you see the soft swell of his stomach, the muscle—your eyes move up, you finally see his nipples, pierced, just like he said, with silver barbells. You lean closer, your ass at the very edge of the piercing bed.

Joel suddenly drops his shirt, hiding away, he shrugs, “Nothin’ fancy, but still, I like’em,” saying that, he takes a seat on his chair and sways a bit thanks to the wheels underneath.

“Do—” you lick the back of your teeth. “Do they make it more sensitive?”

His smirk makes your heart skip a beat, “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he points to your shirt. “Now off.”

Without a word, you peel off your shirt and unhook your bra. Joel’s eyes widen momentarily, his breath hitching at the sight of your bare torso. You’re confused for a moment. Surely, in his line of work, he’s seen many tits before—

Then you realize he’s staring at your tattoos.

You don’t have many, though you guess compared to others you do have many. Joel’s gaze lingers on your chest piece, two hands reaching towards each other with the sun and moon in between, decorating the dip between your breasts without going too deep. The blood rush of your body fills your ears, and your lips part with a gasp, his eyes instantly snap to your lips. You see the way his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows.

“Didn’t know you were tattooed, darlin’.”

“You like tattoos?” you ask, your voice hoarse and barely there. “I have more on my back.”

You swear his pupils dilate, “I’d love to see them after. If you’ll let me.”

“Sure,” you answer with a weak smile. “I don’t see a reason not to.”

He wheels closer, eyes dropping to your breasts. You look away. Your cheeks feel unreasonably warm despite the air conditioning running. Goosebumps blossom over every patch of skin. His mouth is too close, the warmth of his breath fans your chest, a pleasant tingle echoing over your breasts.

You’ve always felt a bit awkward about your nipples. They always seemed silly compared to your breast size, especially when you started seeing other nipples.

“I’m gonna touch you now,” he says softly, dragging you away from your thoughts. “I’m gonna massage it a bit to work it out, a’right?”

You nod and hold your breath simultaneously. He does your right nipple first. Just like he said, he massages the flesh closest to your nipple, easing it out. It feels good, undeniably so. The pads of his fingers work delicately. Deep down you wish he didn’t have to wear the gloves. Your body aches for his heat, his bare touch on your naked skin. Joel pinches a bit hard and you flinch, he mumbles an apology. You don’t have it in you to tell him that it didn’t actually hurt, rather, it felt good.

Soft whimpers threaten to escape your lips so you bite into the bottom one, hard. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to regulate your breathing with deep inhales. His thumb swipes over your, now hard, nipple. “There we go,” he says.

You don’t open your eyes. Pain blossoms from the flesh of your lips, you feel them starting to swell.

“Hey,” Joel’s hand cups the side of your face, then you feel his thumb easing out your lips from between your teeth. “You’re gonna hurt yourself like that. Are you okay?”

How are you supposed to tell him that you’re just turned on? That this has been the most action you’ve had in months?

“I’m okay,” you answer. His brows furrow in disbelief and you can’t really blame him. You let out a long sigh. “I’m fine, I promise. I just got a little worked up.”

“Worked up?” His smile is back and in response, you want to bury your head in the sand. “What d’you mean?”

His hand slides to your waist, squeezing it gently. You stick your bottom lip out. “You know what I mean.”

“Hmmm, maybe,” his voice drips with cruel teasing, his thumb begins to draw lazy circles around your skin. You think he’s going to say something else but his gaze once again drops to your chest. “Looks like it disappeared, gonna need to work it out again.”

You expect his fingers—maybe for him to pinch a bit harder this time.

What you don’t expect, however, is his burning mouth on your cold skin.

“Oh, fuck—” you gasp, your body instinctively arching towards him. He groans as a response, taking more of you into his mouth. His tongue flicks your peaked nipple. You feel his teeth nipping the tender flesh and you gasp once more, a sharp moan rattling in your throat.

His eyes look up at you, momentarily he parts away, his lips are swollen, spit glistening at his lips, “This okay?”

“Yes.”

And he continues to devour you.

Your fingers bite into the leather bed, he laps at the pebbled flesh, purposefully rubs the tongue piercing into it. The sudden hardness of metal makes you jump and then melt into it, he repeats the movement of his tongue again and again, swirling it until your thighs start to shake. His hands briefly move to your tattoo, thick fingers dancing along the ink.

“So sensitive,” he murmurs, directing his attention to your other nipple. He flicks at it first then closes his lips around it. Your underwear is sticky with slick, your legs in constant motion to relieve some of the tension from your throbbing clit. He cups your mound, presses his fingers into your clothed slit. “Be patient, I’m gettin’ there.” He sucks on your nipple and teases the other with his fingers, pinching and pulling them.

“Won’t be able to do this when we pierce them,” he growls, teeth sinking into your nipple, he flicks his tongue over it. “And you better not let anyone else touch’em too.”

Your head falls back with a groan. He flicks his tongue again when you grind into his palm, the friction not enough to quench your need for him. You grip his shoulder, urging him to move back. He does. You immediately feel guilty at the worry crossing his eyes.

You grip his shirt, slightly sliding it up his stomach, “Can I see how sensitive you are?”

A brush of color spreads from his neck to his cheeks. You smile. Red looks good on him.

He stands up, the chair wheeling away. Joel is quick to discard his shirt and you’re glad that the piercing bed makes it so that you’re in perfect tasting range. You spread your legs wider as he comes closer, taking his place between them. His skin touches your own, his warmth overwhelming yet welcomed.

You kiss his neck first. Then his collar bone, you suck on his skin, teasing the sensitive flesh with your teeth. He shudders. Slowly you make your way down, your thumbs push at the pierced nipples and he moans behind gritted teeth. Smiling sweetly at him, you swirl your tongue around one, playing with the other. Your tongue moves over the bead of the piercing, you tilt it which in return twists the nipple. Another tremble overwhelms him, his body curling around you even further. The outline of his cock is prominent through his jeans, his body impulsively grinding against your stomach. You moan at the hardness, and he moans at the pressure.

“Fuck, that’s nice,” he rasps, hips jerking. “But let’s take care of you now, I bet your panties are soaked, darlin’.”

Fuck, it is.

Joel drags his lips down your cheek, he kisses your neck slowly, the metal on his tongue forcing a shudder up your spine and making you curious about how it’ll feel on your cunt.

“Want to eat you out from behind, sweetheart, wanna see those tattoos.”

His hands are a constant on your skin as you hop off the bed and bend over, he helps you with your jeans, reaching around and unbuttoning it for you. The fabric suddenly feels too tight on your skin and you need to get rid of it—now.

The harsh fabric pools at your ankles and you kick them away. His fingers play with the elastic of your underwear, pulling and twisting. The heft of him rubs between the crease, thick cock straining against his zipper. You expect him to take off his jeans too. Your piercer is full of surprises, though, and instead of doing the predictable thing, he continues to roll his hips whilst tracing the pads of his fingers over tattoos.

“Fuck, they’re beautiful, sweetheart,” he mumbles. His touch is ticklish, yet arousing at the same time. More slick gathers at the fabric. You’re desperate for his touch. By the movement of his fingers you guess which of them he’s stroking. First, it’s the fox that stretches over your spine, beams of sun framing its face. Then it’s the smoke-like lines that are closer to your shoulder and the other one near your hip. Joel can’t seem to get enough of it. His palms are flat against inky skin, trying to feel the thought of you while you got them.

You gasp at the touch of soft lips and soft tongue. He licks a slow line up your spine, tracing over the fox and sunlight. By pure instinct you bend over further, your breasts completely pressed against the leather. You’ve never been more glad to have tattoos in your goddamn life—he’s worshipping them, the figures that adorn your skin.

His velvet tongue is replaced by sharp teeth, your back arches, ass pressing further into his clothed cock. Joel trembles and follows your eager movements with another tender bite.

“I love them,” he mouths over the inky smoke near your shoulder. “I love feeling you, touching you. I could just do this for hours. You feel amazin’ against my skin, my sweet little rabbit.”

This time you don’t laugh at the absurd nickname. His name drips from your damp lips like honey, sweet to say and sticking to your tongue.

His hand dips between your legs and his mouth moves down to your ass, he kisses the plump flesh as two fingers stroke you from over the fabric of your underwear. His groan reverberates on your skin, teeth skimming the flesh, “Fuck, you actually are soaked,” Joel hums and slips them under, gathering you around his fingers. “All this for me?”

“Yes,” you gasp, raising your hips. “P-Please—”

Joel shushes you, “I know, sweetheart, I know,” he gets down to his knees and as he does, a small grunt leaves his lips.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“Just fine,” he kisses your pussy and you’re instantly melting towards his mouth, a groan ripping from your throat. “A sacrifice I’m willin’ to make.”

Joel doesn’t give you the chance to reply or offer to change positions, he slides your panties to the side, licking into you hungrily. You shudder and your upper body jolts, forming the perfect arch. He presses deeper. Licking and teasing your clit with the tip. He cups both sides of your ass and gives them a gentle smack. Your eyes roll at the mild pain, your slick coating his lips, tongue, and chin. The rough hairs of his beard chafe your skin, only adding to the pleasure.

“Taste so good, beautiful,” Smack. “Gonna fuckin’ ruin you, make you come until there’s a goddamn puddle on the floor.”

“Oh god—” you choke on air, a moan locking in your throat the same time you’re trying to gasp for air. His words and the swirl of his tongue are downright sinful. He flattens his tongue and parts your folds with the soft muscle, teasing your entrance.

Joel pulls you back against him, his lips teaching your clit, your jaw drops, a jolt of pleasure rushing through you and tightening your nipples. It’s filthy, that’s all you can think. If someone walked through those doors right this instant, they would see his face between your cheeks, drinking from you like a man dying of thirst.

Your head drops, mouth flooding with saliva, you roll your hips; begging, asking for more. He gives it to you. Two thick fingers slide into you with ease, his mouth leaving wet open-mouthed kisses on your ass.

“Gonna come for me?” he asks, voice full of gravel. “Come on, give it to me, let me see how your pussy throbs, sweetheart.”

He curls his fingers and you imagine him smirking as he breaks you apart. You cry out his name, your entire body shuddering as if lightning struck it, “That’s it, that’s it, that’s it. . .” He continues to thrust his fingers in and out, you feel yourself dripping, imagine yourself making a puddle just like he asked for. “Give it to me, honey. You’re fuckin’ beautiful, look at you. . .”

Joel spreads you with his fingers and delves back into you, he draws circles around your clit, his jaw constantly moving with every lick. He doesn’t stop until he’s coaxing another orgasm out of you—your head fills with bliss, your body lifeless.

When he’s done feasting, he slowly gets up with his hands sliding to your back. He leans down to pepper more kisses onto your tattoos, your skin tingling and singing at the contact.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he murmurs, lips sucking at your neck. “Then let’s get those pretty nipples pierced.”

“W—What about you?” you ask breathlessly.

Joel helps you sit back up on the bed, you part your legs so he can come closer, he accepts the invitation with a wide smile, “I have a feelin’ we’ll be seein’ more of each other, sweetheart. You can make it up to me then.”

Your heart skips a beat and your lips part.

You have a strong feeling that he’s right.

With gloved hands, Joel carefully opens a sterile needle package. You watch with rapt attention as he takes out the fresh needle, inspecting it. Your body is still thrumming with pleasure, your head still swimming in a daze. All you can hear is his breathing.

He had already walked you through everything while preparing for the procedure. No touching, no swimming. You had to clean them softly in the shower and that was meant to be the only source of water your nipples touch for a while. If there was any irritation or marks, you were to reach out immediately.

Honestly, you found it cute that he’d gotten so serious all of a sudden. It was nice to see him so professional too, so competent.

He comes closer and your body seizes. You hold your breath. With a sudden need to distract yourself, your eyes linger on to the walls. Your brows furrow in surprise when you notice the tattoo designs. You thought this was only a piercing shop.

“You do tattoos too?” you ask nervously.

“My brother does,” he answers. “He works the tattoo side of the business and I do the piercings.”

“It’s nice that it’s in the family. . .”

“Sweetheart, I know what you’re doin’. You’ll be fine I promise.”

“Okay. I trust you mister man-I-just-met.”

He grins, “You didn’t seem to have a problem with it ten minutes ago.”

“Touché.”

Joel prompts you to lay on the piercing table, he approaches you with a reassuring smile on his face. You can feel your heart racing as you nervously anticipate the pain of getting your nipples pierced, you imagine the worst, your heart beating in tune with your fear.

He carefully cleans the area around your nipples and marks the spot where the piercing will go. He double-checks the placement with you to ensure you're happy with it. You give a slight nod, still feeling a bit apprehensive.

“Such a good girl for me,” he murmurs. “It’ll only hurt for a second.”

With steady hands, Joel takes the needle. You feel a sharp pinch as it punctures through your skin, but the pain dissipates quickly. You let out a small whimper, “It’s okay, it’s okay, just a bit more,” he comforts you and you nod with a long exhale.

After the needle is through, he quickly follows it with the jewelry, securing it in place. You watch in awe as he attaches the beautiful barbells to your nipples, the adrenaline and endorphins making the pain feel less than it is.

Once the piercings are in place, Joel gently cleans the blood before you can get a look.

“Aaand done, tell me what you think.”

You’re surprised that he has a mirror in hand when you sit back up. Your gaze finds your reflection and an instant smile spreads across your face.

“You like’em?” he asks, his tone shy.

“Like them?” you gasp. “I love them! Thank you!”

“Oh that’s a relief,” he leans back into the chair, slightly rolling away with a relieved smile. “No matter how many times I do it, I still get nervous.”

“I definitely love them,” you say, you get up to wear your shirt but end up wincing at the sharp pain. You look at Joel between squinted eyes. “When did you say the pain would stop again?”

“It’s gonna take a while,” he answers with a sympathetic smile. “You don’t know how much your nipples touch stuff until you get’em pierced.”

“Well, at least they look good.”

He shoots you a wink, “They sure do, little rabbit.”

“That nickname is still ridiculous.”

“Should I remind you that the last time I used it you came on my tongue?”

“Nope no reminder needed,” you put your shirt back on, smiling. “I’m still going through the aftershocks.”

“Good,” he stands with you, hands on your waist, he pulls you as close as he can without your nipples touching his chest. “So, you wanna go out?” Joel’s gaze drops to your chest and he licks his lips, “Gotta make sure you’re takin’ care of them properly.”

“My hero.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller au #joel miller fanfic #tlou fanfic #the last of us fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic #scheduled post

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orgverse · 11 months

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you knew it was wrong. you knew it was deeply wrong to have fallen in love with a pirate. even worse when you help him sneak into your room and allow him to have his way with you. you were a princess for fucks sake, you knew your parents would disown you or marry you off right away if they found out.

the worry was always there that you would disappoint them; however, you didn't really care when wooyoung was balls deep inside of you. having you a crying– sobbing mess as your body jolts from each of his deep thrust into your pussy. wooyoung groans at how tight you feel, almost drooling at the feeling of your warmth welcoming him. sucking him in and not wanting to let him go.

"w-wooyoung, slow down," you moan out but your lover ignores you. he wants to listen to you. he wants to slow down, but his instincts won't let him. the primal need to fuck you until you're a mess wins over anything.

he drinks in your naked body below him. takes in how perfect it looks as it withers below him. he almost tore your nightgown away– if he could even call it that with how short it was. wooyoung thinks your nightgown is the only thing good that came from the summer heat. he watches your breast bounce with each of his thrust, your nipples hard and swollen from how his abused them earlier.

"i can't, princess, you feel so-s-so good. i missed you, need you. i know you need me too," he says with a groan as he leans down to kiss you. his hand ripping your own away from your mouth, he interlocks your fingers together as he pins your hand down next to your head. he knows you are trying to stay quiet. not wanting anyone to here how fucked out you are becoming on his cock.

you don't want anyone to hear, but wooyoung could honestly give two fucks. he wants them to hear. he wants the guards to hear how good you're being fucked. he wants your maids to see the blooming love bites that covers your skin, that he left. he wants rumors to spread and for them to reach your parents. he wants the day he can fuck your freely without worry.

he wants you to scream his name and let everyone know who's fucking the crown princess. he wishes so badly for the whole castle to know that their darling princess is being ravaged and fucked by a savage pirate.

wooyoung knows he hit your sweet spot when you suddenly arch your back, mouth dropping open into a perfect o-shape. fuck, you look so beautiful.

"have you missed me, my darling princess?" he asks, calling you that nickname the kingdom refers to you by. "its been three months since i was able to last fuck you. i'm sure you have missed me. fuck– i know i've missed you. did you feel lonely? wishing for when i would come tapping at your balcony door. wishing for when i would return to fuck your cunt full of my cum."

a final thrust is enough to have you coming. your walls tighten around his cock and making it almost impossible for him to continue moving. but wooyoung ignores it as he opts to move his hips faster. he wants to extend your orgasm just a little longer. you open your mouth again as wooyoung grins at the loud sound that falls past your lips.

he can see how fucked out you're becoming as you squeeze his hand tightly. as if trying to ground yourself as wooyoung continues to abuse your poor pussy.

he doesn't ever want to stop.

you feel your eyes rolling into the back of your head as wooyoung pulls out just enough to change your position. he throws your legs over his shoulders before he's pushing his cock back into your puffy and leaking pussy.

"i can't wait to taste you, princess. bet you taste so fucking delicious."

you can't help but feel embarrassed at his words and you try to cover your face with yours hands before you opt to run them over your hair as wooyoung begins thrusting again at a fast pace. the force of his thrust jolted your body a little bit causing you to begin to feel overstimulated. for a moment, you honestly didn't know what to do with your hands. throwing them above your head, gripping your pillow, to clenching your silk sheets tightly. finally you decided to grip wooyoung's biceps, your nails creating crescent moons into his skin as you tried to ground yourself.

"a-ah! fuck, wooyoungie!" you say and wooyoung can't help but smirk as he looks down at you. your sudden volume made your eyes widened as you glanced towards the large wooden doors of your bedroom.

"relax, princess, they're guards. they are suppose to protect you. if they try to do anything but that, i'll fucking kill them. you're their future queen, not much they can do when she's getting fucked in her own bed."

wooyoung pushes his cock deeper inside of you, so deep that you're sure its beginning to hit the entrance of your womb. the feeling makes you see stars for a moment, knocking the breath out of you. wooyoung thinks you look beautiful. his beautiful princess that will one day be queen. you were the princess everyone in the kingdom adored. so beautiful, intelligent, and caring that everyone couldn't help but admire you.

a complete contrast to the drooling, fucked out mess below him. but either way, wooyoung still thought your looked breath-taking. he remembers how soft-spoken and put together you were when he first met you.

now you barely even form a complete sentence. the only word leaving your mouth being his name. all because of him.

"i'll kill anyone that tries to wrong you. anyone who talks badly about them, i'll fucking kill them and use them as bait," wooyoung mutters and it makes your heart surge at his words. you're sure he probably tells that to any other princess or woman he fucks, but you can't help but feel special. his eyes are trained on your form, watching you intently. "i mean it, my princess, if you can't rely on anyone else to protect you then i'll do it."

wooyoung gives another deep thrust and a long and breathy moan leaves your mouth. wooyoung does his best to pull you even closer to him as your hands trail up his arms, one of them playing with the edges of his long, grown out, black hair.

"i love you, y/n," he says and him calling you by your actual name catches you off guard for a moment. "i would so many things for you. i would kill for you. i would even die for you. i don't want to separated from you anymore. i want to be next to you. you're mine, y/n."

"w-wooyoung, wooyoung!"

"do you love me, princess?"

he watches you nod your head violently, but he wants to hear you say it. he needs to hear you say it. he begins to slow his hips down as he looks at you. he knows you're probably close to coming again, not that he minds. he would love to have you come around his cock endless. you voice out a small protest as he hips slow to lazy pace. his thumb coming to rub circles around your clit making your whole body twitch at the feeling.

"i love you, wooyoung! love you so much!" you say, tears streaming down your face as he pinches your clit harshly. and then wooyoung is back to his pace he had started with. not giving you a moment to comprehend anything, almost giving you whiplash from the sudden deep thrusting.

you know its wrong. you shouldn't have let yourself fall in love with him. with a pirate. it was only a matter of time before he was either caught, died at sea, or even worse... found someone better to love. but you couldn't care. wooyoung gave you love that no one else ever had given to you before. none of the princes you had met before or after meeting the pirate even glanced at you like wooyoung did. it was always wooyoung, and it will always be wooyoung.

he will always hold your heart, whether you liked it or not.

that's why you haven't been able to pick someone to rule with you. you know your parents are starting to wonder and your people as well. but wooyoung has ruined you for anyone else. you blame the stupidly handsome pirate.

"y-you're mine, right?" you manage to ask, looking into your lover's eyes.

"i love you. i will always be yours. i'll mark with my cum so no stupid prince will ever be able to satisfy you like i have. you'll never be able to forget how my hands touch you," he says with a smirk as he glances down at your stomach.

he wants to so badly to get your pregnant, so he can whisk you away from this place. take you back on the ship and allow his crew – his family, to meet you. he wants them to adore you like he has.

"i'm gonna cum! i'm gonna cumcumcum, fuck, ah– wooyoungie!"

"my princess, go ahead and cum around my savage cock."

and you do.

your hands fling away from wooyoung's body to grip the sheets around your head. your nails digging into this sheets that wooyoung is sure you could rip them if you wanted to. you moan loudly as your body arches off the mattress and wooyoung can only smile at you as he watches. you clench around him tightly again and this time he chooses to slow his hips down to watch you.

your whole shudders and twitches, eyes drooling to the back of your head. drool slipping out of your mouth and down your chin.

but wooyoung still needs release. he grips your hips tightly as he pounds into you, his knees rubbing hotly against the sheets. he feels like he's about to explode any second now.

you let out several whines at the overstimulation your lover is causing you to experience. you want to push him away, to stop for a moment, but at the same time the pleasure of wooyoung's cock overrides that feeling. it all feels too good.

"i m-missed you so much, wooyoung. s-so much, please... did you miss me?"

three months away from you at sea. fighting the storms and other pirates. running from the navy.

"of course i m-missed you. missed you so much you were the only thing i dreamed about."

"please, please cum inside me," you beg and wooyoung smirks at how long gone you are. "please, i need to feel you fill me... cum, please."

"you're lucky you're so cute, princess. any other time and i would have fucked you till morning. but i'll fill you up, don't worry."

the pirate digs his fingers into your thighs. trying to ground himself as his movements pick up and become erratic. its been three months and he needs to make you his once more. then finally, he feels the tension in him explode and his coming inside you. he makes sure to bury his cock deep, deep inside of you. he feels your clench around him and the both of you moan.

he steadies himself for a moment before he kisses your ankles, his hands rubbing circles on your calves before he's finally pulling out and putting your legs down.

wooyoung watches with careful eyes as you try to steady your breathing. chest heaving up and down as you look at him with half-lidded and tired eyes. wooyoung can't help nestle down between your legs, resting on his chest as he looks at your pussy. spreading your folds he looks at how used and spent it is. he wonders if he can see his cum poor out of you. when he does see it, he uses his fingers in order to push it back in.

"s-stop," you say jerking away from your lover and pulling your legs into yourself. wooyoung can only smile as he comes to hover over you before pressing a kiss to your pouting lips. he can tell how tired you are from where you open your mouth, allowing wooyoung to do as he pleases.

when he pulls away, string of saliva is what connects the two of you.

"i love you, y/n," he says, repeating his words from earlier. he lays down next you, letting his hand come up to push your hair away, some of it sticking to sweaty forehead. you lazily wrap your arms around him, attempting to pull yourself closer to him.

"i love you, too, wooyoung," you say with a smile that makes wooyoung feel oddly at ease, "i'll always love you, my prince."

wooyoung knows that he will do anything for you. he would kill with his bare hands if it meant protecting you and sparkle in your eye. he would go to the ends of the earth if it meant to please you.

he would do anything for you, because he loves you and you love him.

special suffer with me tag : @sanjoongie

#ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez wooyoung x reader #ateez wooyoung smut #wooyoung smut #wooyoung x reader #ateez pirate au

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zvdvdlvr · 2 years

Text

fluff alphabet

( dallas winston )

-> navi. | -> outsiders masterlist

-warnings: sexual references, (mention of) smoking/getting high

-pairing: dallas winston x gn!reader

-reading time: 8-10 minutes ish

-reader's pronouns: unmentioned (lmk if i need to edit)

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

honestly he loves your temper. he loves your possessiveness. dallas loves your fighting spirit. dallas fucking winston admires your anger

B = Body (what is their favorite part of your body?)

he loves your pretty lips. he loves to watch them wrap around a cigarette, blunt, and maybe something else...

dallas is a sucker for watching you argue with someone. he loves that you'll argue for him when he's not there, how you'll defend him even when he has all of his morals fucked up, and he especially likes it when you argue with him

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

damn ok so i love the idea that dally always lets you snuggle into his arm while he does whatever. if its smoking, drinking, laughing, talking

either way, dally loves when you're asleep and you're both on someone's couch or whatever and you have your arm draped over him and your leg is thrown over his idfk. dallas just loves you & him

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

him + you + cruising on some back road + getting high

dally has a thing for falling asleep with you while looking at the stars in his car

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

by looking at you and hoping you know whatever the fuck is going on by his facial expression

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

no. i really dont think our very own dallas winston has it in him to sit still for very long. that and dally isn't really a fan of kids

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

dallas showers you in cigarettes, joints, and car rides. dally doesn't have much money, and when he does, he spends that on buying gas for his car, but he saves up for your birthday

for the record, you're the only one allowed to drive his car

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

anytime you're together. dally isnt afraid to show you off if thats a worry of yours, and the gang finds it digestingly cute

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

absolutely pissed. he would go bat shit crazy on the person that hurt you (if someone hurt you) and would be listening to your every beck and call

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)

dally isn't much of a prankster, but he jokes a lot. if he can't get a laugh out of you, he'll make daces at you to get you to smile (its so sweet thinking about it)

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

passionately, roughly, and full of emotion. theres so much that you've gone through with dally that he cant and wont fully express what that means ro him, so he makes his kisses meaningful

L = Love (how do they show you they love you?)

by looking out for you when possible. dally isnt as affectionate as he wished he could be, but will always try to be there for you, whether hes good at comforting you or cheering you on or not

M = Memory (favorite memory together?)

either when you made out the first time or the first time he fell asleep

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

regarding you: turning your back on him

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?)

dallas plays with your fingers when hes nervous. only you know because you can feel how clammy his hands are and who would ever question if dallas winston ever got got nervous?

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

doll, baby, my girl, my boy

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?)

cruising while smoking with you

R = Rhythm (what song reminds you of them?)

-young by vacations

-tonight you belong to me by patience & prudence

-garden by pearl jam

-santa monica by THEORY

(idk abt this but whatever)

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

honestly depends on the situmatation

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

it took dally two years to convince you his flirtations and advances weren't bogus

U = Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?)

Dallas himself has Red Rage. dallas gets defiant and sometimes loud and 18392829 times more reckless, and it takes you a while to get through to him

when you're upset (crying), he will be there to comfort you the best he can. if you're upset (fury), then darry will try to keep you from doing something illegal and will keep you from getting hurt, but will let you do something impulsive if you're absolutely sure thats what you wanna do

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?)

he's proud that he finally 'caught a good one' in johnny's words. he'll take you everywhere and anywhere you wanna go, especially if its with him. if it's a fight, dally will make sure you're safe and if the fuzz pull up, he'll make sure you escape before people get thrown into cars and into the cooler

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)

the thought of you fighting is hot as hell to dally. he'll 100% fight with/for you if you just said the word. fighting with dally would definitely taking a few hits for him and keeping him on his feet

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

depends on how far into the relationship you are. dally's pretty clueless for a while, but will easily pick up on what makes you tick and how to comfort you

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)

by asking you when high or half asleep or both. it'd be asked as an idea, with or without your parents permission

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?)

smoking, driving, you, and johnny.

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intheshadowsbehindyou · 8 months

Note

Could you do like a little one shot of nsfw Scout with short s/o? Your writing is so good 😭😭😭 the short headcannons got me feeling some sorta way

*cracks knuckles so hard that I spontaneously combust* ok

Scout X Reader: There Are No Good Guys In War (NSFW)

Jeremy hated halloween.

Every year, something incredibly supernatural would happen and it would never be within’ the Mercs’ favor. A guy with a pumpkin head, a floating eye, a centuries old lich that Soldier had once called his friend? He wondered what would occur now — now that the Gravel wars made their way to Japan. Scout had did very short history lessons of this country in high school. But overall the general population in America seemed to agree that Japanese people were somehow “bad.” And Japanese people themselves didn’t enjoy Americans either. He wondered if maybe the locals would kill him before a vengeful kami would find him and Team Fortress.

“I mean— Look at this place. Look, I can’t blame them. Everybody’s lookin’ at me. I’d be fuckin’ pissed too if somebody blew up my city.” Scout told you, as he impulsively scooped white rice into his mouth.

You looked out the window of the countryside restaurant. Watching people walk by. “They are suspicious of us. Like you said. Although to be honest I don’t think they want to hate you.” You said slowly.

“Why not? I’m literally a guy from the country they went to war with not that long ago.”

“Well, yes. But you didn’t give the direct orders, did you? You just want peace. Like the majority of civilians.” You respond. Your gaze fell upon the window again, contemplating his words.

Scout was contemplating your words too. A mild frown spread across his face as he put his empty bowl down. You could recognize that face anywhere from Scout— something was bugging him and he’s going to be ungodly amounts of stubborn about it: He’ll never tell you what the problem is.

The both you left an hour later. Walking out into the stratus clouds overhead. The trees you could vaguely recall having cherry blossoms were now bare and the rest of the trees lacked any shade of green. Scout looked greatly affected, as if his mood couldn’t get any worse from that conversation. He had expressed to you before having mild seasonal depression. He looked down at your short physique and tilted his head.

“Uh, so that bathhouse or whatevea, huh?”

“Yeah, just give me a minute. I forgot to turn in a contract.” You said, the australium contracker in your hands looked dull with so little sunlight. You knew Scout didn’t look too good, but you hesitated out of respect for his wishes. If he didn’t want to speak that was fine. “You remembered to hide that body right?”

“Huh? Yeah. I threw it in some trash bin or somethin.” Scout swayed his arms impatiently on the sidewalk. Shuffling his feet and getting distracted by every single thing that moved.

“Oh great.. They definitely won’t find it there.” You said, sarcastically. Although you were less than surprised. You were used to this incompetence by now.

Suddenly, you felt a lack of weight and you were being hauled into the air. Scout threw you over his shoulder and left your legs kicking in the air. You let out a shameful yelp that would give a Pomeranian a run for its money.

“Wh— Scout! God dammit I need t—“

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Shuddup. Let’s go, nerd.” He placed oddly seductive empathsis on the last word. Although you considered yourselves as friends it was slowly beginning to seem otherwise. Treating you like a high school bully was a subtle hint. Scout was in denial and swore he had eyes for only Pauling. Your interactions begged to differ. You weren’t dumb.

You snarled at him, allowing yourself to be carried for a short distance. Part of you wanted to reach down and spank him on the rear because of how close you were. But Scout was jogging too fast. The bumpy ride didn’t even give you time to think. Let alone his heavy breathing.

You let yourself down from the taller man, trying to assess your surroundings. Only to find you were at the exact address listed on the magazine. You blinked for a second and took in the forested path that wasn’t there before. He shoved you forward with one hand to the bridge that led to the Onsen.

“Hey!” You exclaimed, holding your back. “You’re stronger than you look, that hurt!”

“You’re adorable, y’know that? You’re like a kitten if a kitten was like.. four inches.” He said, raising his hand to your height. “Yeah well, maybe don’t be so small. It’s like you’re begging me to throw you. FYI. Stop drinkin’ coffee and maybe you’ll be a more respectable height, doofus.”

“Jesus, Scout..” You mutter, trying to hold back the smile that nearly crept its way onto your face. He was a rather lovable asshole.

It only took a few minutes to find a private room. By a few minutes — that is — an hour of Scout trying and failing to speak fluent Japanese to the poor caretaker in front. But finally they got the memo and took you two to the outdoor bath, muttering something what you could only assume was derogatory towards Scouts’ behavior. You began to wonder if the reason he felt hated so much by them is because he has a general disregard for common decency.

You watched Scout take off his shirt. This was an unintentional strip tease for you. Watching him undo his belt was making you feel even more. You decided to look away, feeling a bit guilty.

“Hey uh.. Y/N.” He sighed. “Do you think i’m.. A bad person? Like, as in a bad guy?”

“Can you rephrase the question?” You tell him, sarcasm dripping off your tongue like venom. Rolling your eyes at his occasional lack of self awareness. You went about undoing your own work uniform.

“Hey, I mean it. Like, do you think i’m.. Bad, for being a mercenary? Beating the shit out of old men and whatnot?” He asks you. There is a hint of sadness in his voice that makes your heart break.

You sigh in defeat. This is not a conversation you wanted to have, but it was an important question you felt nonetheless. You couldn’t blame his innocence in this situation. It’s not like his Mom had a coherent answer to this either. You fumbled around in your brain for a nempathetic yet truthful answer.

“Scout, none of us are truly good guys.” You say, looking at yourself in the reflection of a puddle. “A mercenary is opportunistic, and takes jobs because he knows it will get him the money he so desperately needs.”

You continue on. “When the war happened, when you were a newborn I mean — they attacked each other because they were scared. Is it bold of me to assume that humans act crazy in general when they feel threatened? In your case it was poverty. You wanted your family to survive. Any other method felt hopeless. Not that these actions are justified but—“

“I enjoy beating the shit out of people, is the thing.” Scout got his clothes off while you weren’t looking. You could hear slight concern in his tone.

“Yeah well that’s probably because you went to school in a shitty atmosphere— what the FUCK?!”

You were about to tell him that in the grand scheme of things, you’d always adore him nonetheless. Even if he was a massive morally dubious prick. But your intimate philosophical conversation with him was cut short when you gazed upon his body. This was the first time you’ve seen him fully undressed.

..Let alone with a massive hard on.

“What?” He asked you. “You see this shit? This is all god’s handiwork, babey.” He assumed you were just admiring his figure and presented himself by flexing. “Lookatdis. Fuckin’ unstoppable titanium. Fifty pounds of concrete stacked atop a goddamn bedrock foundation.”

He was completely unaware of his throbbing dick. Your mouth began watering, and you looked towards the bath. It didn’t really occur to you until now that him holding you might’ve done this.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” You ask him, taking a deep breath.

“I mean.. Two friends bathing isn’t romantic in any way, right?” He asked. “Right?”

“Right.” You lied. Oh lord, you were about to fuck a godamn trigger happy twink silly until he couldn’t walk.

A trigger happy twink that was loved nonetheless.

#team fortress 2 #tf2 #scout x reader

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misc-obeyme · 6 months

Note

my dear loyal cohorts and author of many good scripts

the illness consumes me once again and i must beg for your ideas on how these scandalous deamons would comfort a particularly ill MC

i blame going to UC to get my fainting problem checked out for the illness ive received. why are masks not required in the hospital.

🐈‍⬛

Hello there, dear 🐈‍⬛ anon!

Ahh, I hope you get well soon! Being sick is the worst. And truly, I wish I knew why masks are no longer required in hospitals because they should be.

As for the boys, I can't help imagining them having some kind of group meeting about it.

Asmo: MC is sick! We have to do everything we can to make them feel better soon!

Lucifer: Perhaps if you all leave them alone for once...

Beel: We should give them soup.

Belphie: We should make sure they sleep enough.

Satan: Did you know that a cat's purr has healing properties?

Levi: So does the Ruri Hana theme song!

Mammon: Nah, I'm actually with Lucifer on this one... nobody but me is allowed near MC's room!

Aaaand then it devolves into arguing. But once they get their act together, I think they'd overcome their differences of opinion in order to take care of you, each in their own way. I also like to think the side characters might step in to help, too.

Lucifer would check in on you when he's sure you'll be asleep. He doesn't want to disturb you, but he wants to make sure you're resting and not being bothered by his brothers. He'll glare down any of them that get too noisy near your room. Leaves random things by your bedside that he thinks you'll need (such as a box of tissues or a glass of water).

Mammon gets clingy as usual. He's the one who's always sitting by your bed. Almost every time you wake up, you find him there. Sometimes he's scrolling on his phone, sometimes he's just watching you, and sometimes he's straight up fallen asleep. Always asks you if you need anything. If you do suggest something, he goes out long enough to get one of his brothers to fetch it.

Levi brings you things to do while you're in bed. Piles of manga, all with your favorite kind of story. Video games, anime, anything to help keep your mind off the fact that you're bedridden. If you let him, he'll sit by your bed and give you summaries of the animes he's been watching lately.

Satan reads to you. If you request something specific, he'll read whatever you like, but he also knows your preferences so you can let him choose if you want. He might also try to sneak a cat in for the express purpose of using its healing purrs, but if he can't manage it, he'll have you watch cat videos instead.

Asmo obviously pampers you. Does your nails, your hair, probably gives you healing facials and the like. If he's there while Mammon is, the two of them banter back and forth, partly because it's them and that's their natural state, but partly on purpose to entertain you. Asmo will also bring you all the softest of pajamas.

Beel actually does bring you soup. He got help from Barbatos to make it - straight up brings you the most human world healthy soup he can, which varies depending on where you're from. If you're from the US for instance, he's gonna bring you chicken noodle soup. He ate half of it on the way to your room, but it's the thought that counts.

Belphie helps you sleep. When you're finding it difficult to rest because you feel like crap, he will snuggle up with you and ease your body enough that you find yourself drifting off into peaceful slumber. He will stay to keep any bad dreams at bay, too.

Diavolo will stop by the House of Lamentation to check on you. When he does, everyone leaves the two of you alone. He's quick to tell you not to worry about your responsibilities. It's more important that you focus on getting better.

Barbatos regularly portals himself to your side just to bring you healing teas and decent food. He doesn't trust the brothers to feed you correctly while you're ill, so he takes it upon himself to bring you what he knows you need. He will sit on the edge of the bed by your side and chat with you about what's going on at RAD and various other places, to keep your mind off of your sickness and help you feel like you aren't missing out. He also brings you fresh flowers to keep your spirits up.

Simeon also comes by regularly to tell you stories. Some of them he makes up on the spot, which are always fascinating and leave you hanging on every word. But sometimes he tells you stories about the Celestial Realm. If you ask him about the brothers, he'll tell you all kinds of anecdotes from when they were angels.

Luke sometimes comes with Simeon, too, and always with boxes of some kind of treat he's made for you. Another one who will likely bring you flowers or sometimes just things he's found that remind him of you or that he thinks you'll like. He's worried that you're stuck in bed and wants to bring some of the outside world to you while you're sick.

Solomon probably brings you some potions to help speed your recovery. He's not sure about how well any of them work, so you get to decide if you test them out or not. Either way, he's going to entertain you with some spells, especially if there happens to be a brother in your room when he visits. (For instance, he would probably curse Mammon to meow for a few hours just to make you laugh.)

Oops that turned into a mini headcanon thing, huh? Well it's not my usual format, but I just think they'd all have cute little unique things that they would do in order to take care of you.

Anyway, I wish you a speedy recovery, 🐈‍⬛ anon! And I hope whatever issues brought you to the hospital to begin with are resolved as well!

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bananadrinkxxx · 8 months

Text

THE BLOOD CROWN (29 PART TWO)

[Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character ! I fem!reader]

[Dark Romance / Enemies to Lovers / Revenge]

Content for adults. 18+

[warnings: smut, sex content, dark romance, angst, fights, domination, murder]

[description: Aemond Targaryen meets his niece under a different name and falls in love with her without knowing that she is supposed to be his enemy.]

Masterlist - click here for all available parts

Aemond didn't hesitate when Ser Criston Cole came to meet him the next morning.

He grabbed the man by the collar and pulled him close. Cole looked at him confused for a moment until a knowing look crossed his face. He knew immediately.

"You dare disobey my orders?" hissed Aemond.

"You didn't order me to keep quiet about it. The plan was different, my prince."

"The correct address is, your Grace, Ser Criston. I am Prince Regent and you have given information that you were not entitled to without my permission. It could be considered treason. Are you a traitor, Cole?"

"I would never betray you. I ask for forgiveness, your Grace," Ser Criston began quietly and tried to pull away, but Aemond's grip tightened, so he quickly gave up. "But I only had good things in mind. The girl was with Rhaenyra Targaryen. Our enemy. Either she is loyal to her or she has heard things that could be useful to us."

"She didn't hear anything, Criston," Aemond defended. "She told me everything."

"And you believe her?"

"There is nothing to prove otherwise."

"Then let her be taken to the dungeon. They will question her there and-"

Before Ser Criston could continue, Aemond had pushed him against the wall behind him and the man groaned painfully. Aemond's hand went to the man's neck, who looked at him with wide eyes.

He suggested putting a pregnant woman in the dungeon? To interrogate them, whatever torture meant. His pregnant wife?

"If you ever speak of this again, even hint at something like that, I will rip out your tongue and offer it to Vhagar as a snack, understand?"

Ser Criston nodded. He tried to keep his composure, but Aemond saw the fear in his teacher's eyes. He felt no pity. He had himself to blame for that.

"Rose is under my protection. She belongs to me and anyone who acts against her is also acting against me."

Aemond took another searching look into Criston's eyes before letting go of the older man and pushing him away. He turned around without another word and left the man behind.

Nobody would dare touch Rose.

No matter how deep his arguments with her were, in the end she was still his.

And he wouldn't allow anyone to harm her.

He realized that he would kill for Rose. That after all this she still possessed his mind. The only thing he could keep from her was his body. Her return had affected him more than he had expected. Seeing her look at him, her eyes judging him, was almost unbearable. He wished he could forget his feelings for her, erase them from his mind forever, but it wasn't possible. Rose was like his own shadow. She would never leave his mind and his heart.

D R A G O N S T O N E

Rhaenyra took her necklace out from under her dress. She always kept them hidden between fabric and skin, afraid of losing them. It was the only thing she had left of Aemma. She played with the chain between her fingers and looked at it. She read the inside writing.

In dreams we are united.

She had given the necklace to her little daughter for her fourth name day. Aemma's eyes were shining. Her daughter was overjoyed as she held the necklace in her small, soft hands. The necklace was made of Valyrian material and just as Daemon had once given her a necklace, she had given the same gift to her daughter.

"I'm sorry, my queen," Baela said suddenly and Rhaenyra looked up. Baela and Jacaerys sat across from her. Her son looked up, his eyes focused on Rhaenyra's necklace and an inexplicable emotion flashed across his face. His eyes widened before fixing on the table in front of them. He's been different lately. Closer. She would have to talk to him. She looked at Lucerys. He looked sad, but it wasn't like Jacaerys. Something was different.

"What are you apologizing for, Baela?" Rhaenyra asked, looking at her stepdaughter. She was the spitting image of Baela. Beautiful, graceful, proud. "And call me Rhaenyra. We are a family."

Baela smiled briefly, but her smile disappeared as quickly as it came.

"It's my fault Rose was kid-, I mean Aemma, kidnapped."

"You think she was kidnapped?" Rhaena asked. "Maybe she went voluntarily? Maybe she was the one who hurt you? Even if she is Aemma, she has no memory of us, right?"

"She didn't hurt me. The attack came from behind. She was standing right next to me."

"Then she saw the attacker?"

"No I do not think so."

"How can you be sure?"

"I just know, Rhaena," Baela raised her voice and looked annoyed at her sister. Rhaena jumped and looked away. She bit her lip.

"Whatever happened to my daughter, Baela," Rhaenyra interjected, drawing attention back to herself. "It's not your fault."

"But I wanted to go to the market with her, Rhaenyra. It was my idea."

"Then there would have been a different situation," Daemon agreed with Rhaenyra. "Someone kidnapped Aemma and we will find out who and bring them to justice. Whoever is responsible for her disappearance will wish they were never born."

He looked at Rhaenyra and she reached for his hand under the table and squeezed it. She was grateful for his support. A pushing back a chair drew her attention to Jacaerys, who was suddenly pale.

"Jace?" Rhaenyra asked, jumping up to go to her eldest child, but he just shook his head.

"I think I'm getting sick, mother. I'm going to retire so I can recover."

Jacaerys turned away from Rhaenyra and she watched her son go. He seemed so changed. She hardly recognized him. Maybe he had grown more attached to Aemma than he was letting on. Maybe she meant more to him than he was letting on. She would talk to him when the opportunity arose. Even though he was an adult, he was still her child. He would always be her child.

. . . . .

Jacaerys threw up when he was in his room. He shivered all over and slid down the wall to sit on the cold floor. Panic had taken over his entire body and he desperately clutched his brown, sweat-drenched hair. He stared aimlessly at a spot in his room. He couldn't take it any longer. His mother's pained look. She was suffering and because of him. What he had done was wrong and now he had to live with the consequences of his actions. He would never forgive himself for this. He had only wanted to protect his family, but he had ended up causing more evil than he wanted to avoid. He still doubted that Rose was his little sister, but that wasn't the point anymore. He had patronized his mother. He had decided for her whether Rose was worth a chance and he had decided against it. He knew his mother would never forgive him. Just like Lucerys. He had felt Daemon's gaze on his neck as he left the room. He didn't know if his stepfather suspected something, but his words were clear.

If Jacaery's secret were discovered, everyone would consider him a traitor.

And maybe he was.

K I N G S L A N D I N G

Aemond hadn't visited his sister for days. Her sight hurt too much.

She was sitting there without participation, sunk in her own world, tortured by the guilt that she was wearing.

It has always been withdrawn, but this condition was not normal for her either. And yet he looked for her closeness. Their affection. They have always had a special band and he longed for their touches, their loving words. He longed for his sister. He needed her. He felt so alone. Even if Helaena had changed. Sitting here, with her, even when they didn't talk, gave him strength.

"How is Rose?" "Suddenly an voice illuminated the room and Aemond looked up. Helaena looked at him and her gaze was clear. He saw no confusion, no dreaming. Aemond leaned forward. Helaena looked him directly in the eye. "How is the child?"

"You know of the child?" Asked Aemond irritated. Had his mother went to Helaena and told her about it. Helaena put his head at an angle and gave him a meaningful look. No, his mother hadn't told her. She knew it. Just as she knew a lot that she couldn't know. He looked at his sister.

"Are you still answering me?"

She pulled up an eyebrow.

"I think she's fine."

"You think?," She asked and put her head wrong. "Why do you think? You should know."

Aemond snorted. "It hard at the moment. We don't talk that much."

"Hmmm," summed up Helaena, "that's stupid of you."

Aemond looked at his sister surprised. "Excuse me, what?"

"You have to open your eye, Aemond. Look over the horizon, into the distance. Don't be fooled by whispering," and there was. His sister who spoke confusing words. What did she mean? Shouldn't he be fooled by the whispering?

"What do you mean?"

Helaena leaned her head to the side. "You don't see properly, Aemond," she said as if it were the most understandable in the world. "You must not keep your happiness away. The paper dragon burns to flesh and blood. Dragonseed in Dragonseed. Old guilt must be paid, but you have to be happy."

Dragonseed in Dragonseed?

Aemond knew what that meant, but not in this context. She had said it before. Dragonseed in Dragonseed. But he still could not place it.

Dragonseed was said to speak of bastards of the Targaryen clan, but Rose was not a Targaryen. Was Helaena pregnant? Had Aegon planted new life in her before everything went down the stream? It would not be unlikely. He would ask the Maester to check it in the next examination.

He didn't understand the rest. It was nothing new.

"You have to be happy, Aemond," said Helaena and suddenly she looked so unhappy.

So incredibly unhappy. "Don't let me go, promise me," her words sounded as clear, more clearly than ever and Aemond searched for a answer in the face of Helaena that she would not give him.

"Do it for me. At least one of us should be happy."

. . . . .

When Aemond was in his bed at night, he could think of nothing other than Helaena's words. They followed him every second, and no matter how much he puzzled, he understood only half. If he understood anything at all. He straightened up in bed and stared at the window. The light of the moon illuminated his room.

"You have to be happy, Aemond." she said.

But he wondered how he should be happy when he was kept taking it again and again?

He had thought that he would be happy as a prince regent, with power as a king, but the desired effect failed to do.

"Do it for me. At least one of us should be happy."

He wanted to be happy. He longed for it. He wanted it more than anything and he also knew that his luck was only a few steps away. He looked at the wall behind him as if he could see it. Whether she was awake at the moment and was just as tormented as he was? Or was she sleeping calmly and dreamed of being far away? He couldn't even blame her. He had treated himself badly. He had blamed her, but he was the blacksmith of his own misfortune. He had spoken words that he shouldn't speak. Even if he had only spoken to her so that he could protect her.

He got up and slowly went to his desk.

His bare feet tingled through the cold of the floor.

He reached for the drawer and opened it. There was a dagger and another eye patch (he owned plently), but his focus was on another object. Aemond reached into the drawer and took out a necklace. He looked at it. It was beautiful. Just like her. This necklace didn't belong to him and it would never belong to him, but he knew every single inch of it. He had found Rose's necklace when she left him and although the anger had tempted him to throw it away, he hadn't. He couldn't. This necklace meant something to her. She had received her from her dead mother. He couldn't take that away from her.

She had lost it in the attack and Aemond had found it. It was stupid. Through this necklace he had the feeling that he also had something from her. That he owned something from her if it wasn't her heart.

He turned the necklace in his fingers and read the engraving on the back.

In Dreams we are united.

It was true.

He was united with her in his dreams.

. . .

"The Blacks are gaining more and more power."

"Various men of the Kingsguard have joined as well as men of the Night's Watch. Traitors, oathbreakers, it doesn't surprise me that they are joining the Black Queen. A bullshit name!," Wylde spit. "They must all be beheaded, hanged. They are not worthy of an honorable death."

"Is there any news from Dorne?" Lannister asked and all eyes turned to Otto, who shook his head bitterly.

"Dorne will not take sides."

"Hmm, I guess they're hoping we'll tear each other apart."

"Well, as long as they don't support the princess."

"House Stark has spoken out in favor of Rhaenyra. But our men have not yet seen any mobilization of the Northman army."

"Winter is coming," Lannister said. "Lord Stark is aware of this. What do the Northmen always say? 'The tunic is closer to me than the trousers'?"

"And Harrenhall?" asked Aemond and all eyes turned to Lord Larys.

"Harrenhall is strong. Our walls are sturdy. We are prepared for the attacks of the blacks."

"Well, but you can't do anything against their dragons, right, Lord Larys? Harrenhall doesn't have a good history of dragonfire." Lord Lannister loved to test those around him. But he had chosen the wrong opponent.

Larys just smiled at Lannister's provocation. "I guess no big house has that, right? And the ones that have been spared so far could burn quicker than we'd like."

Aemond watched the spectacle, but his mind was elsewhere. They were with Helaena and her words and with the woman who haunted him day and night.

A tentative knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Otto allowed entry and an old man, past his prime, stumbled in.

"Your Grace, please excuse the interruption," the maester began, bowing to Aemond, who was sitting at the table with his mother and grandfather, as well as Larys Strong and Tyland Lannister, discussing possible strategies in the fight against the self-proclaimed queen.

"Can't you see we're having a conversation, Maester?" Lannister interjected and he saw his mother roll her eyes out of the corner of his eye. This man really liked to hear himself talk.

"Forgive me, but the Prince Regent has instructed me to contact him immediately if there are... complications."

"Complications?" Alicent repeated. "Which type?"

"Well, I would like to discuss this with the honorable Highness myself, if you allow me."

"You can speak freely in front of us, we-"

"We will continue this conversation tomorrow. Everything is settled so far," Aemond interrupted Otto, who looked at him in surprise.

"Aemond, you-"

"The correct address is still, your Grace, Lord Hightower," he exchanged a look with his grandfather and he saw the rebellion in his eyes. He looked at him challengingly, a raised eyebrow inviting him to contradict him. But Otto was wiser and he bowed his head and nodded.

Aemond gave his grandfather an unimpressed look. He treated him like a little boy. He had forgotten that he was the one who made Aegon, and therefore Aemond, the most powerful man in the empire. Now he had to live with the fact that his grandsons were above him. Just like she always had.

He left the room without further comment.

"The girl refuses to be examined by me," the maester began as they walked together down the hallway to her room. "My words don't bring them to their senses."

"You call me because you can't control a woman?"

The maester bit his lip in shame. "I don't know how far my authority extends with her." He swallowed. "She had light bleeding this morning. That shouldn't happen, but it can under certain circumstances like stress or too fast growing of the child in her womb. That's why an examination is important so that I can rule out any danger."

Aemond nodded. The words made him nervous. He tried not to show anything and to keep calm.

He would not allow Rose to risk her life and the child's life by refusing to be examined out of spite. He would persuade her to allow this search, otherwise he would force her for her own good.

Suddenly a guard came towards them and looked frantically at Aemond. He was one of the guards he had assigned to Rose. "Your Grace, the prisoner is attacking the other servants."

Ah, wonderful.

. . . . .

The imagination and reality of how Rose attacked guards and servants were completely different and yet completely the same. Pillows and various other objects lay on the floor and when Aemond entered the chamber, another pillow flew towards him, which he threw to the side with a careless movement.

"Get away from me," Rose shouted and the silver food tray flew towards the guards, who were able to dodge at the last moment. At least the one in front, because the one in the back was hit in the face. She could aim, you had to give her that.

"Rose, we mean no harm, please, you need the examination!" pleaded a servant and came towards her, but Rose continued to back away. They seemed to know each other, which wasn't particularly surprising considering Rose had worked for her.

"What I need is fresh air and freedom. That's the only problem here! I'm fine. The child is fine!"

Rose was still in her nightgown and Aemond was overcome with jealousy. Had these men seen her in this effort? He ordered the guards out of the room, and Rose's raging gaze fell on him. Her eyes were full of anger and reproach.

Rose stared at him like he was her worst enemy. He probably was at that moment too.

"Me too, your highness?" the maester asked and without taking his eyes off Rose, Aemond nodded. "Everyone should get out but stay within earshot."

The maester nodded and left the room, as did the other two women.

Aemond came towards Rose, but she grabbed a vaser and signaled him to stop.

"Stop immediately, don't come any closer, Aemond," she snapped and he obeyed.

"You need the exam, Rose."

"What I need is for you to let me out of here. I'm going insane and this is all your fault!"

"My fault?" Aemond repeated. "I wouldn't have to keep you here if-"

"If I hadn't left you, yeah yeah, blah blah, we all know it, Aemond. The whole fucking world knows it, but you were the one who drove me away," Rose screamed. "I would never have left you. Damn it. I was ready to die for you, don't you understand that?"

The first tears rolled down her cheeks and he gave Aemond a stab in his heart. Seeing her like that, so desperate, so hurt, hurt him more than he expected.

"Rose, calm down," he began soothingly, "no matter what differences we both have, don't be unreasonable and get yourself checked."

"Not until you let me out of here."

"That's not possible."

"Well, then it's not possible to be examined," Rose said defiantly and Aemond had had enough. He came towards her with quick steps and Rose threw the vase at him, which he caught in the air and threw away. The vase broke on his hand, leaving a deep cut, but he didn't care. He grabbed Rose and pulled her close, but Rose wasn't willing to give up without a fight. She hit him, pinched, scratched and bit. It was difficult to keep them contained without resorting to violence. Fascinating how such a petite body could suddenly gain strength.

"Calm down, Rose," he yelled to bring her to her senses.

"You're not telling me what to do anymore," Rose screamed. "You treat me like trash, make me look like a villain, but I haven't done anything to anyone." She struck at him again and Aemond intercepted the blow. She was shaking with anger and her breathing was rapid. Rose needed to calm down before she hurt her child, his child, their child.

Her punches caught him in the face and he felt his eye patch fly away. Rose jumped in shock and stared at the spot where his second eye should be. Hadn't she seen it yet? He did not know. He wasn't ashamed of the way his face looked thanks to his nephew. Now he saw it as a weapon against his enemies, who hopped away like frightened rabbits at the sight of him.

Now she saw the real him.

He pushed her back and she fell backwards onto the bed, him on top of her.

"Let me go. Get off me, Aemond," she ordered, but he didn't think about it. He pushed her wrists down and pushed her onto the bed.

"Do you want your child to die?" Aemond asked, looking down at her. She still resisted, but his words reached her. "The Maester just wants to check that he or she is okay. That you are okay. Don't be unreasonable, Rose."

Her resistance weakened, to the point where she lay on the bed beneath him like a lifeless doll, looking up at him in desperation.

"I hate it here so much," she began. "Please release me, let me go, give me some freedom, I beg you, Aemond," she begged and Aemond was pained by the sight of her. But he was too selfish, too afraid of losing her again, that he wanted to let her go. could let go. He needed her. He missed her. Even as she lay here beneath him, so close, she was so far away. And it was largely his fault. "Do you hate me so much? Do you want to see me suffer?"

"I don't hate you. I could never," He confessed and he knew that he was revealing his weakness for her, but he didn't care at that moment. He gave her a knife, a dagger, and he would run in gratefully if she wanted him to, she had dominated him so much by now.

He thought he was in control. But in the end it was Rose who had control over him.

"But I can't let you go," he spoke, looking into her eyes. He saw her disappointment. "I'm doing this to protect you too."

"Protect me?" Rose breathed. "From what? From who?"

Aemond examined her beautiful face. "From these who want to harm you. You said it yourself."

Rose looked at him in surprise. Her eyes looked tired. "So you believe me after all?"

He didn't give her an answer, but he didn't need to. The four bodies were proof enough and consistent with Rose's story. Yes, she had tried to leave him, but that didn't change the fact that someone had tried to kill her.

"I will protect you, Rose."

She looked at him incredulously and snorted. "And who will protect me from you?"

Her question hit him harder than he expected. Was he really the monster she painted him as? Had he really become so cruel and cold that he only did wrong? Anger and bitterness had guided him in the beginning, but he wondered if his pride had ultimately harmed him more than protected him. He didn't want to appear weak, not in front of her or anyone else, but no matter how hard he tried to put a wall up between the two of them, it always ended up breaking down.

"You scare me, Aemond. I don't recognize you," Rose breathed as her eyes watched him. She tried to touch his face, but he pushed her hand down.

"I guess you're not the only one," he said, seeing her sad look. She should stop looking at him like that. He couldn't stand her looks anymore.

What had become of them? What had become of him? Sometimes he didn't recognize himself. Sometimes he was afraid of the person he had become.

He pulled away from her and got off the bed. Her eyes followed his movements.

"If I allow you to leave these rooms with two servants, provided under constant supervision, will you cooperate with the maester and allow yourself to be examined?"

Rose saw him surprised and for a moment she seemed to think. She probably wondered if he was trying to trick her, to deceive her, but he meant the words as he said them. He would give her more freedom if it made her feel better.

After a moment's hesitation, she nodded and Aemond exhaled contentedly. He ran his gaze over her once more before leaving the chambers and ordering the maester to enter and continue the examination.

Taglist

@watercolorskyy @marvelescvpe @ammo23 @helaenaluvr @toodlesxcuddles @malfoytargaryen

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viviennelamb · 1 month

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movements meanwhile (I don't like talking ab how much moral I am from others since I can be sociopathic too and I don't fucking gave a fuck and I wouldn't wanna be judged for it I would wanna be accepted) my abuser doesn't even fucking feel guilt even when I shake and she hates animals and screams at them and I have things for which I dont feel guilt either everyone has some dif personality however we are so incompatible and hers personality is a danger to others and I should have gotten a restraining order the second I was born and started being fed TRASH on top of it all LOL I am her biggest obsession it's insane. She even tried to molest me and was salivating over my young body and touched me multiple times and forced me to get bather by her till 11. Yet I feel guilt for judging her cause I recognise her as a sentient being I even feel guilt for pitying her. What's in me that possibility caused this if it didn't then how to even judge abusive situations. I always hear about how everything is a lesson or karma and I kept trying to self reflect and all I do is try to answer my existential questions and feel insane guilt for all that happened for my isolation for my over decade long depression that looking back at it also looks like a fucking demon possession or me just needing space? Is it a demon possession just cause I don't engage with others and feel disconnected? Idk but if the thing I judge as abuse had a bad effect on me and destroyed me life often beyond my control then am I the victim and why!? I even turn to astrology to find answers and I find that abuse coming from my mother is somehow predicted in my chart? Lately also I'm realizing how unaware I was of the harm cause to me and ahhhh all this shit is confusing because even if I didnt get abused I am would probably still isolate since I'm a thinker and need fo process reality And liberate myself from Hunan sexuality observe it and the patriarchy from afar cause I can't connect with it however lately I had chances to have small interactions with people dif that abuser and this environment and I noticed how much different I feel but thats not the end, I was never allowed to feel it cause she was always around lol. Screaming abusive monster. Recently I've also watched an interview with an ex Hollywood star, not that popular person and she went through extreme abuse did by her mother and if I remember currently she was praying for it to and it was horrifying. She also had some demonic encounter. Got raped in Hollywood and now spends time with vulnerable harmed animals cause she relates to them but.. What the fuck. There are even abuse stories of people ending disabled cause of their parents. Like millions of these stories. We are in hell or something yet I still feel guilty cause of my internal conflicts existing outside of the abusive situation influencing them like I hate humans I'm depressed(not in the same way as before but still call it depression) and feel the need go rage And hate and sit on the darkness

Become a “sociopath” for good. Become one of those people who endure pain, but can smile through it. Polarities of everything exists. Whenever somebody calls you, something negative, take on the good aspect of it if you are actually good. This is not the time to worry about other people's emotions while neglecting your own.

Just about everybody is isolated—they isolate themselves into groups where everybody reflects the same ideas and sentiments they want to hear. They don't know that they're around a bunch of their reflections and think it's different because they have bodies that appear differently around them, then they become sexually titillated by those individuals.

You are your mother's biggest obsession because you reflect what she wishes she was, but she also despises you for it. Most mothers molest their children in some manner, but people don't know about it and the children think it's normal. A lot of it is medicating their children unnecessarily or being involved in their hygiene even though the child has already been properly taught how to take care of themselves. Even sexual abuse is a mindset and these individuals know when they're being nefarious, but pretend to be concerned.

Whether you're isolated, engaging with others or have all the friends in the world it doesn't matter if you're not healed. People with "support" and a social life kill themselves and are depressed just as often as anybody else. Don't worry about what society says and focus on your health right now and don't concern yourself with astrology and tarot card readings, there's no time for that.

When you're in the midst of abuse your resilience grows significantly. Similar to how a mother gains superhuman strength to save her child from a life threatening situation. If you have time to sit, ponder and think, that is when you should work on healing yourself and not worry about the future. When the time for an emergency comes, you will handle it or don't. There's no point in thinking about it.

You should rage, hate and sit in the darkness if that's what you need. Solitude has always been humanity's default to re-gain balance within. You really don't need people in your ear telling you what to do when you already know.

#ask

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lumine-no-hikari · 2 months

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Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #100

This will be my 100th generic letter to you. Imagine that! Assuming you can hear me somehow, we've been on a very unorthodox journey for a while now, no? How marvelous!

I spent some of today checking on my epoxy spheres. It needed a few small adjustments. I made another mess. But I'm feeling pretty good about how these are gonna turn out, and I'm looking forward to showing the finished spheres to you very soon!

I spent the bulk of today writing up descriptions for various items, though. I'm pretty excited about it, actually! But I can't tell you what it's for; sorry about that. With any luck though, my intentions will become clear in maybe a decade or so, assuming I can maintain my focus and my faith in my own efficacy. I suppose we'll see.

Along the way, I made myself a couple mugs of jasmine green tea! I was surprised, though, to find that we were out of milk. I improvised with whipped cream for the first cup, and ice cream for the second cup!! And I gotta say, these were THE BEST improvisations!! 11/10 stars, absolutely would recommend! I'll show you a couple pictures!!

At 4pm today I went for my orthodontics consult. I went to go see an orthodontist because I've got some weird jaw issues on my right side because of the way I gotta move my face when I try to chew things. And also, my dentists have been bugging me about getting orthodontics done for the last couple years, because there are certain teeth in my face that can't be cleaned properly because they got confused and wandered off, presumably to chase butterflies.

I was hoping that I'd be able to get away with using Invisalign to avoid needing to get teeth removed, but… well… the fact of the matter is that I simply do not have enough jaw to work with, and I am WELL beyond the age when things like palate expanders would work. So 4 of my teeth need to come out in order for the inside of my face to be aligned properly.

…And this really fucking sucks, because if my parents had given even a fraction of a genuine shit about me, this ALL could have been prevented. My jaw could have developed properly with upper and lower expanders. I could have avoided the crowding and the overbite and the crossbite and the resulting damage to my jaw joint if this had been taken care of like it should have been when I was a little girl. But, no. Instead, my parents were too busy being in denial about the fact that they wish I was not born. So here we are.

The reality that is, "because of my parents' negligence, I now have to get body parts removed and pay lots and lots of money because insurance doesn't cover it past a certain age" is just… fucken… it's WILD, man. Admittedly, I'm struggling with it. And I'm struggling with the resulting VERY angry thoughts. But that's okay. I can feel angry. It's allowed. And thoughts are just thoughts - passing noise that is not reflective of who I am or who I wanna be:

youtube

…I can make use of my coping skills. The technique outlined in the video above is one of them, and I make ample use of it on a near-constant basis.

Admittedly, I don't really understand why we can't just use the Invisaligns to scooch my molars back to where my wisdom teeth used to be (I thought being able to move teeth backwards was the ENTIRE FUCKING POINT, but I could be mistaken, so whatever). But I forgot to ask. I'll call them up tomorrow and find out.

Anyway. Wanna see my skull? And my weird-ass teeth? Of course you do. Why not. But I'll put it all the way at the end, after the part where I put my name, just in case you don't. Hahaha…

…Ya know… Sephiroth… admittedly… some days I get real tired of this meat-mech I'm piloting. I've got a host of rather unpleasant genetic issues. The defective collagen thing sucks; it impacts literally my whole body. The misshapen skull thing sucks. The misshapen eyeballs and misshapen lenses thing sucks. There are other things - lots of them; it'd be a long list if I wrote 'em all out. I'm really not gonna be sad when the one I've got can't clunk around derpily anymore. But I'm not gonna rush the process, either; I've got shit to do - I've gotta make sure someone I love is safe, even if it might take me a long time to get it done.

But ya know. Maybe when it's time to go get a new meat-mech, maybe by some small miracle, I'll get to visit you for a bit until it's time for me to cycle into something new! Tell you what - if that happens, I'll bring you some matcha ice cream or something, okay?

For now… I'm gonna get back to writing up lists and descriptions of items; if you're not gonna make sure you're safe, then someone's gotta, and if someone's gotta, then I might as well, right? I mean… what else am I gonna do while running around confusedly in a capitalistic hellscape on a dying planet? Aside from eat cheese directly from the refrigerator like a weird little goblin, anyway…

I'll write again tomorrow.

Your friend, Lumine

P.S. Weird pics of my skull and teeth below, if you wanna see!

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vacantfields · 4 months

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Hihi again!! Two in one day sksnhsksls :3 (probably more, you're very welcome)

Adding to my dream I had, I then took u guys home and we lived together and had a lot of fun. I also made you all hairclips *gives :3*

ANYWAYS! MORE QUESTIONS!!!

1. Does Moon like the idea of being a security bot? Of he still is one! I know before he was made specifically for that!

2. Does Sun like adults this time around! Since from what I've seen he can get sassy jdlsdksks XD

3. Eclipse! Clipsy! The best boy I've ever seen! :D Do you like sleepovers? I wanted to invite You, Sun and Moon! :D We'll eat popcorn and watch movies and make paper pals and also watch analog horror :3 (i like horror a lot if you all don't mind)

4. Do you happen to know any other animatronics? Like the Glamrocks! What's your opinion on the Glamrocks? I think Freddy's cool and Chica! Monty is kind of a jerk but Roxy is cool!

5. Moon, moon, moon-moon!!! :D Can you still use the cord? Do you still have the hook on your back? Can u teach me how to do those fancy moves if you still do them? :3

6. Sunny boy! Sunray! :D Do you ever think of what it'd be like if you and Moon still shared a body? But instead of your original forms, the ones you have now! Of course, it's not painful or anything, hugs hugs :(

6. Do you guys have a house outside of the pizzaplex? Like just an apartment or anything? :O i was thinking about it and i feel like you'd all have a HUGE house with your different sections :]

7. I really like those FNAF analog/VHS tape horror videos. Also Mandela Catalog! Would you feel comfortable watching those with me :D (it's horror, so idk if u'd like that :P)

THAT'S ALL!! I'll be back either later or tomorrow >:D evil laugh hehehehejnsoksns :3

Sun: Oh goodness me! this is very long-

Moon: [chuckles]

Sun: [sends Moon a glare before turning back to the questions] I think... Oh this is so much, friend! hm. [he taps his lip a little in thought] Okay! Number 1! [Looks at Moon]

Moon: [sighs] I still patrol. Just not as often. Do i like it? Well when the human security guards are there its very fun to scare the fluff [groans at the censor] out of them. [glances at Sun] Your turn

Sun: [smiles] Number 2!: I am very kind and sweet to the humans who work around us! i am even friends with some of them! Though yes they do annoy me when they are lazy with their tasks! i can do them quick and easy! But no no no no! they do not ask me! [he huffs then looks to Eclipse] Ready for number 3, Clip?

Eclipse: [nods then tilts his head] best... boy? sleep over? i am not currently allowed to leave the Daycare or have guests. I cannot watch violent movies in case it triggers the virus.

Sun: ... [clears his throat] number 4!: We do know the glamrocks! I do not have any favorites but the only one who really talks with them is Moonie!

Moon: Theyre all annoying. [he sounds fond then looks at number 5] Hm. Well we all have our wires still. the cords. I am the one who uses it the most but i would rather not test my luck with bringing someone with me up there sorry, friend.

Sun: number 6!: oh... I do not wish to talk about that type of thing i am very sorry friend. Number 7! We still live in the pizzaplex! we have a room thats been modified so its more homey now! [he smiles] we can however leave to explore the city if we wished! we just gotta tell people where and when we are going and for how long! [he giggles] and number 8! [he frowns] why would you ever watch something so scary, friend! you shouldnt be watching those things! [he tsks and wiggles his finger at you, disapproving]

Moon: why watch scary things when we have the scariest thing right here [taps Eclipse who frowns. He looks sad, eyes distant]

#noah answers #TAB AU answers

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sonder-paradise · 2 years

Note

Okay, so I ran the second i saw the requests are open-

Could I request a small drabble for Diluc coming home late at night to his s/o curled on the couch and in a really off mood from comments said that day to them, maybe tucking them into bed and just, snuggles...

p.s Your Genshin fluff is so cute to read.

𝐄𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐦 — 𝐃𝐢𝐥𝐮𝐜 𝐑𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐫

◊ ft. diluc, gn!reader

◊ genre. comfort, established relationship, domestic fluff

◊ wc. 0.8k

In the hills beyond, Diluc could spot crystalflies dancing in the vines of grapes and in the gentle glow of the lanterns lining Dawn Winery’s Manor. He noted the sharp notes of crackling firewood and the nearby forest. His mind had been preoccupied with the thought of getting home earlier, but he doubted that he could call this early anymore.

From the outside, he could see the dim light of a lamp from inside the parlor. The sight had him letting out a sigh as he clambered towards the door. He rested a hand on the knob, contemplating his next words and most likely the sight that would be on the other side.

Tonight also smelled faintly of rain and distant memories.

Your silence told him everything he needed to know. You could feel his touch on your lower back. It spread up your spine and nestled on your neck before he kissed it gently. Your shoulders stopped shaking at least.

“Tell me what’s wrong, my Love,” he whispered. Diluc, ever fond of you and perhaps only you, was never the best at comforting words like this. At least, that’s what he assumed.

You shifted as if to roll over and face him, but you did no such thing. You felt it was wrong to be pouting on the couch so avidly in front of him. You felt that it was unfair of him to be the one comforting you even after he had had the longer work hours and taxing responsibilities. The guilt just made the knot in your stomach tighten.

Diluc tried once more. “Do you wish to talk about it in the bedroom?” To which he found relief when you slowly nodded.

He didn’t quite care where his items found a place. He could always have the maids clean his stuff off the floor tomorrow morning. For now, he focused on you.

Strong arms wrapped around your body and for a moment, you felt a little childish whilst resting in his arms. As if you were a child that had thrown a tantrum. But upon looking up at his face, you knew he saw no such thing. His eyes—which were usually hardened and perhaps rough—were tranquil and good-natured. He had always been that type of man towards you. The type that forgave you for burning the world.

The serenity of your shared bedroom was enough for him to relax and unwind while you did the same. He settled you down onto the bed and you sat up to watch him continue with his nightly routine. He chuckled softly at your tear-streaked cheeks and puffy eyes. To which you shot him a warning glance.

But he rubbed your back soothingly while he shrugged off his coat. “C’mere,” you mumbled. Diluc happily obliged. Your fingers toyed with the intricate tie on his chest before undoing it. As you continued undressing him, he took a moment to wipe the leftover tears falling from your eyes. Diluc kissed your red-tinted eyes and buried his face into your hair so he could smell the scent of his shampoo on you.

“Hands.” He raised his left first, allowing you to pull the glove off of it. Your fingers ran over his for a moment. They were calloused and rough, but held a hint of softness to them all at the same time. His hands were so like him.

After getting the right glove off, Diluc cupped your face in his hands finally. You smiled weakly at him. Without words, he seemed to figure out what had been on your mind. For that, you would always love him for.

“If there is anything at all that is bothering you, I would not hesitate to listen. You know that, don’t you, Darling?”

Honestly, you didn’t think there was a thing you could do that could come close to how wonderful this man made you feel. Butterflies erupted from your stomach and he kissed your forehead this time.

“I do and I will always do the same for you.” Diluc stared at you for what seemed like an eternity. Whatever it was he was feeling, he enjoyed the peace rush that it gave him. It was a sort of feeling that felt him breathless and restless.

“Thank you.”

Taglist: @xo-cuteplosion-xo @planetxiao @nonsense-corner @ireallylikehamsters @eccedentesiast-sapphic @rebeccka @the-lost-anime-dad @lettucecabbage-kun

Wanna join my taglist? Comment under this post!!

#[🖋] writing #diluc x gender neutral reader #diluc x you #diluc x reader #genshin impact diluc #diluc scenarios #diluc imagines #diluc x y/n #genshin x y/n #genshin x reader #genshin scenarios

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forever-rogue · 2 years

Text

Risk

AN | I’ve been in my Pero feels lately, so here is some fluff with him! 🥺🥰

Summary | In which falling in love with Pero Tovar is the riskiest thing you have ever done.

Pairing | Pero Tovar x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language, Allusions to sex, Mentions of pregnancy

Word Count | 3.5k

Masterlist | PP Characters, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"Do you miss it?" your soft voice cut through the silence that had fallen over the two of you. You could feel him turn his head to look at you, but you kept your eyes on the sun setting on the horizon. It was quiet here, a spot at the edge of the forest that no one else had found, and the two of you could be alone together. You were sitting on a fallen log, barely any space between your bodies.

"What?" his hand was next to yours, his pinky barely brushing against your skin. This was all he would allow himself, anything more and he wasn't sure if he could control himself.

"Spain," you finally allowed yourself to look at him, finding his soft brown eyes intently studying you, "your home. This has to be…so different from it.”

“Si,” he nodded gently, the corner of his mouth tugging up in a forlorn little smile, “it is very different - beautiful and warm. But I have no more family there, that is why I started to sell my sword in the first place. Still, there is beauty and warmth here too.”

“I would love to see it,” before you could stop yourself you reached up and touched his face, gently stroking his cheek. Normally he would have chastised such an action or pulled your hand away, but today he leaned into your touch, “maybe one day we can go. You can show me all of its beauty.”

“You know that is not possible,” there was a note of sadness in his voice before he quickly pressed a kiss to your palm, “it does serve you to dwell on such dreams.”

“The dreams of what could be are all that get me through the days sometimes,” you sighed, slowly standing up to begin the trek back to the castle. You brushed off your skirts and extended your hand to help him up, "I suppose we must get back before father gets worried."

"And then he'll have both of our heads," you hated that you knew he was right. You wished you could just hold onto his hand and just run away, "it would not look good for you, you know this. Then your father would not be able to find you a suitable husband, cielito.”

“I don’t care about that, you know I don’t,” you huffed as you stopped in your tracks, looking at him with a serious expression, “I want y-”

“You will care when you are an old maid stuck living in the castle walls without a husband or a child,” he sighed, rubbing a hand over his tired face, “that is not a fate I would condemn you to.”

“Pero, my love,” you reached for his hand and stepped closer to him, “I do not want anything other than you. I want you as my husband - I would have no other. I love you, and I know you feel the same about me, even if you do not admit it. We could leave this place and never look back. We can go to Spain - anywhere.”

“You do not know of what you speak,” he insisted gruffly, avoiding your eyes because he knew he would find him glistening with tears, and that would just break him, “I could not give you the life that you are used to. I am a sellsword, nothing more.”

“I don’t care,” your voice cracked ever so slightly as you tried to get him to understand just how serious you were, “I would be happy with you - I would be proud to be your wife. And wherever we would go, we would make our own home. Would you really us both be miserable for the rest of our lives or make our decision and leave?”

“You would lose everything-”

“I would be gaining everything,” you took his face in your hands, fighting the temptation to kiss him then and there, “I don’t know how else to tell you that it is only you I want. Do not think I do not know what that entails. I have thought about this for so long, Pero.”

“You are to be married soon,” his hands found yours, and he gently pulled them away, watching as your face fell. His own heart felt like it was shattered into a million tiny pieces, “I was going to leave upon your marriage…find work elsewhere.”

“I-I don’t understand. What do you mean?” your mind was positively reeling with questions, but most importantly, you hoped it would all be a horrible lie, “Pero?”

“Your father has chosen your husband,” he sighed heavily, “I overheard him speaking to one of his advisors.”

“Surely you say this in jest…”

“I wish I was,” he closed his eyes as your own started to pearl up with tears. This was your single worst nightmare. How could you marry a man and go live with him and be his wife when your heart belonged to Pero? You couldn’t…there had to be some other way, “I’m very sorry, cielito. Perhaps in another life, things might have been different.”

“And you were just going to leave?” the tears that had pearled up now ran down your cheeks. Pero reached up and gently wiped them away, “what am I supposed to do without you?”

“You will learn to live without me,” he promised as you shook your head. If anything, he knew that he would be unable to live without you, “it won’t always feel like this, mi amor, I promise. Once you are away from here with your new husband and a babe, you will not even think back to this moment…to me.”

“You are a fool if you believe that, Pero Tovar,” your laugh was a bitter, small thing, “I will never love another. Please…please don’t go. Take me with you, we’ll run away together and make a life for ourselves somewhere completely new. No one will know who we are.”

“Cielito,” Pero let himself go, let himself give into you more than he had ever before. His strong will was easily broken down by you. He leaned in so he could rest his forehead against yours, a small exhale leaving his lips, “we cannot change what is already done.”

You knew that even if you threw yourself onto the forest floor and begged, he wouldn’t acquiescence to your request. He was a willful, stubborn man and stood by his convictions. You had hoped, and prayed, that perhaps you would be the one thing that would change his mind. But you understood that if anything were to happen, and you were caught, the consequences of your actions would weigh much heavier on him. He was the mercenary sellsword after all, rough, rugged, and dangerous, and you were a lady, gentle and dainty, reared for the use of men.

“Pero,” his name was like sweet, golden honey from your lips and his breath became stunted and stuttered, “if you must go, please…please kiss me. Let me give myself to you and have you in return. That way…a part of me will always belong to you.”

“It has taken all of my strength to keep from touching you,” his lips were so close to yours now and if either of you even moved forward an inch, you’d be kissing one another, “how many times I thought of kissing your soft, pink lips, of touching your delicate skin, or seeing what lies underneath those pretty dresses. I have kept myself from doing so at a struggle, do not ask me to do such a thing to you. It will ruin everything for you.”

“No one will know, except us,” you promised, as his hands landed on your hips, gently squeezing them, “I want to do this…I want you. But…if you do not want me in such a manner, I understand.”

Pero Tovar had strong convictions, but even he had his breaking point. That breaking point turned out to be the way you looked at him with big, wide eyes, and whispered his name. He leaned in and closed the little bit of space that had remained between your bodies, finally kissing you. He took your breath away, kissing you with a needy hunger, but still remaining gentle. You weren’t like the women he’d kissed or fucked before; you were different…soft, tender, delicate. He loved you - he had never loved any of them.

He knew that this was the only time he’d be able to kiss you, to touch you, to lie with you, and he intended to make sure he would never forget this night. He hoped you wouldn’t either…he hoped that you would cherish this, and think of him once you had your husband.

“Pero,” his name was a breathless whisper as he trailed his lips along your jaw and down your neck, making sure not to leave a visible mark. Your body was molding into his, and he marveled at how perfect you felt in his arms, “please.”

“I will be gentle with you, cielito,” he promised softly, nudging his nose against yours, “it might hurt for a moment, but if it is too much, I will stop. Si?”

“Si,” you agreed as you leaned in and kissed him. You adored the way his lips felt on your skin, how his mustache tickled ever so slightly. Now that you knew him in this way, you wanted to forget. The ache between your legs grew with each passing moment and you knew that you needed to have him, “I love you, Pero.”

“I love you too, cielito,” he promised, “you have my heart and you will hold it forever.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The gray skies were threatening to bring down rain again for what seemed like the umpteenth day in a row. It seemed like a permanent winter had set in and you were never going to see sunshine again. It was an accurate reflection of how your head and your heart felt as well. You sighed lightly as you sat in the small seat against the window, your book open and unread in your lap; not even the roaring fire managed to warm you.

“I’ve come to change your linens, my lady,” you hadn’t even heard the young woman that served as maid come in. You nodded and waved her off, attempting to turn back to your reading. It was silent for a few moments as she worked to strip the old sheets but then she paused, “you have not had your monthly courses yet…did you have them last month? I do not recall.”

You paused for a moment as you turned to look at her. She’d already gone and placed the washing into a basket as you tried to think of the last time you’d bled. It hadn’t been last month…or the month before. Oh. You could understand a month without bleeding as it was prone to happening from time to time, but this long…this was unusual. But she couldn’t know that…no one could know that or you would be under an inquisition of questions from everyone.

“Odd,” you feigned disinterest, but your heart was beating wildly, “I’m sure it will come this month. My courses must have been off last month - I had them the prior month. Perhaps my body is just under stress from all of the…changes.”

If your suspicions were correct then your body would indeed be undergoing many changes.

“Of course,” she offered you a small nod, but did not seem suspicious or like she knew you were lying, “if you need anything, please let me know. It won’t be much longer until you are moving into your new home.”

This time you didn’t even bother to feign a smile. Your upcoming wedding nuptials and move to your new husband’s estate was weighing heavily on you. With each passing day, the reality grew closer and more horrible. There was even word floating around the castle that Pero Tovar was leaving to go back to selling his sword soon. You’d known this was his plan, but knowing it was going to happen cut like a knife.

Ever since that night you’d shared with Pero, he’d avoided you as if you were the plague. He would hardly look in your direction, let alone speak to you. You wondered if he regretted that evening, if he would take it all back if possible. You had no regrets, and you wouldn’t have changed a thing. It was wonderful - magical - even and he made you see stars more times than you could count. It was everything you could have dreamed of…but the fact that he now treated you as if you didn’t exist made it that much harder.

You waited for a while before grabbing your cloak, wrapping it tightly around your shoulders before setting off to find Pero. If he wasn’t going to talk to you, you would make sure he would at least listen to you.

It seemed like you had to walk through the entire castle and grounds before you finally found him at the stables. He hadn’t heard you come up, too busy tending to his horse, speaking to her in quiet Spanish.

“Pero Tovar,” you walked up to him and his head whipped in your direction as his face paled in realization. He knew he had nowhere that he could run and hide, “I…I want to talk to you. P-please, Pero. Even if you want to go back to hating me or whatever you call it-”

“I don’t hate you,” he quickly stopped you before you could go on, “I could never hate you, cielito.”

“I find that hard to believe,” you admitted, worrying your bottom as you tried to see what was behind those soft brown eyes, “you have refused to speak to and have not looked me in the eyes. Ever since…that night. Do…I am sorry if you regret it.”

“You must listen to me, mi amor,” he came closer but stopped himself, for the sake of propriety, “I do not regret a single moment with you, a single thought of you, anything. A few people…had grown suspicious of our…closeness and I did want a single doubt cast upon you…especially not when you are to be wed so soon. I am sorry about the hurt I have caused you. I have thought about kissing you every day since that night. My thoughts are consumed by you…only you.”

“Pero,” you whispered, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to bubble up at his sweet declaration, “I love you beyond measure, beyond what I could put into words. The sheer thought that you could ever…loathe or detest me broke my heart. I should not have assumed…”

“If I was a smarter man, I would have found some way to tell you instead of letting you suffer,” he insisted, noticing a few people milling about the grounds, “but I fear you must leave for now or people will grow suspicious. We will talk - I’ll come to you this evening.”

“There is something I must tell you,” you grabbed his arm and gently squeezed it, “it cannot wait-”

“Whatever it is, I’m sure it can wait.”

“I-I think I’m with child,” you whispered quietly, but just enough to where he could hear it. His eyebrows shot up in surprise as he opened and closed his mouth a few times, “I have not bled in several months and…I feel different.”

“You…have not bled?” he repeated as you shook your head. You’d felt a mixture of emotions at the realization, and yet disappointment and regret were not included, “are you sure? If you are with child and anyone finds out, you will be…cast out and disgraced for starters. I cannot take back my actions, and I cannot begin to convey how sorry I am…I will do whatever I can to protect you and help you to…”

“I don’t want that,” you whispered softly, “if there is a babe, I want it. I want our child, Pero. It is a life we created out of love.”

“Mi cielito,” he sighed softly, close to tears himself. He could not deny to himself that he had pictured this moment many times - starting a family with you, “if they find out it is my child, there will be grave consequences for both of us. We have limited options - either you try and bed your new husband immediately and claim the child as early born or there are ways to rid your body of the child…or we rid ourselves of this place and start a new life. I know you are eager to jump to an answer, amor, but you must think it through. If we leave…your life will never be like this again, there is a lot you will be giving up.”

“I…I know,” you swallowed thickly as you looked into his eyes; they were glossy just like your own, “do you not want this child?”

“Cielito, there is no other woman I would want to have a child with,” he promised as he allowed him a quick moment to touch your cheek, “to see you grow round with my babe in your belly…there is nothing I want more. But you must think about yourself as well.”

“My love-” you heard your name being shouted in the distance and let out a small groan, “I must go.”

“I will find you tonight,” he promised softly, “I…be ready.”

He gently nudged you out of the stables as he went back to tending his horse, with a steely determination in his eyes. You knew what he meant…you hoped you did. There was no going back now.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was past midnight and you were pacing your chambers as you waited for him. The castle had been quiet for some time and you were clinging on to the hope that he would come. You had a small sack sitting at the foot of your bed, packed with the few precious belongings you had.

A light tapping sound at your door, caused you to almost run over as you gently cracked it open to make sure it was him.

“My love,” you could barely contain your excitement as you let him in, “you came.”

“I will always come to you,” he promised as he wrapped his arms around you, before he leaned in to gently kiss you. You hadn’t realized just how much you’d missed his touch until you felt his lips against yours, “mi cielto. I’ve missed you.”

“And I you,” you insisted as you cradled his face in your hands, stealing a few kisses, “I love you, Pero.”

“I love you,” he promised, “but we must make haste. I have an old friend named William that lives some distance away. We will go there until we decide where to settle. He will not tell anyone about us. We will be safe and then…we can go wherever you want, mi amor, and start our future together. It is not too late for you to change your mind…”

“Never,” you promised as you reached for your sack, “I told, Pero, all I want in life is you. I will go wherever you go, I will always follow you.”

“Then let us go,” his smile, that soft, sweet thing that he reserved solely for you, was beautiful. That in itself was enough to make you realize you were making the right decision, “mi cieilito.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

One Year Later

“Pero!’ You stuck your head out of the small in the kitchen that overlooked the garden the two of you had planted. He stopped what he was going, turning to look at you with a smile tugging up the corner of his mouth. He was so handsome, more than ever these days. The warm air and golden sun had treated him well since you’d arrived in Spain. It was the single best decision you had ever made, “supper’s almost ready! Come in and get cleaned up.”

“Coming,” he gathered up the fresh fruits and vegetables he had picked before making his way back inside. His golden skin was warm and sweaty, his shirt tugged open to reveal his broad, freckled chest. He set his harvest down before he came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist before pulling you into him, “whatever you’re making smells delicious.”

“I could make your least favorite thing and you could claim it was delicious,” you teased as you reached up and ran a hand through his dark curls, “you, my love, have gotten soft.”

“Only for you,” he pressed his lips to your neck, causing you to make a small sound of content. Before it could go any further, soft cries came from the living area, causing both of you to groan lightly, “I am far from finished with you, cielito.”

“I’ll count on that,” you beamed at him before turning around to gently nudge him out of the kitchen, “go on and tend to your daughter. Sing to her, it’s the thing she loves most.”

“Her or you?” he raised an eyebrow as you shrugged innocently, causing him to laugh. He paused, giving you one last little kiss before he headed away, “hold on, bebita, Papa’s coming.”

You listened to him for a moment, padding out towards the small crib he had built for her. It was quiet for a moment before you heard him gently pick her up, speaking softly to her in Spanish. The love he had for her, and you, had no bounds.

Loving him and running away from everything you had known with him had been the biggest risk of your life.

It was the best decision you had ever made. You would have made it again in a heartbeat in this life and every single other one.

#pero tovar #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar x fem!reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader

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crepe-of-wrath · 2 years

Text

Plush (Alucard x Fem Reader)

I'm just trying to get something out here because I've had writer's block for ages. As always, this fic is Mature and not intended for readers under 18. It's smutty and there's mentions of biting and blood. Alucard is implied to be overprotective/possibly yandere-ish here and Reader can be interpreted as having some Stockholm Syndrome, so if that's really not your thing, give this one a pass.

You should probably object to what your life has become. That you don't probably means that you're some sort of freak. Broken. Damaged. Incapable of understanding what's best for you. A bad example for the children.

But everything here feels so good that you just cannot bring yourself to give a fuck.

A glass of Château d'Yquem--your favorite nocturnal treat--was sitting on the table. It felt like ambrosia as it went down your throat, coating it in honeyed bliss.

As you settled into your plush velvet couch, it occurred to you that there was only one thing on this earth that felt better in your mouth.

That fleeting, wanton thought instantaneously set your body on fire. Few things gave your more pleasure than kneeling before your impossibly handsome protector so that you could satiate and serve him, so that you could show your enduring, undying gratitude for the fact that he had chosen you to keep.

You wriggled on the couch, letting the tiny tendrils of the silken pile caress your skin. The heady scent of the golden wine and the gentle brush of the velvet made you incredibly sensitive and receptive. You put your fingers to your lips because their weight made it easier to dream that you were taking Alucard--silken and velvety in his own right--into your mouth. The wriggling became writhing and your nightie started to ride up your body. You dragged your fingers from your lips and skimmed your hand over yourself, whimpering when you brushed one of your nipples.

In the dark shadows of the room, you felt a deep, vibrating murmur of praise. Wonderful! Your protector was here to reward you by allowing you to worship his body. You stilled yourself, preparing yourself for the moment when your beautiful monster revealed himself to you.

"Did I tell you you could stop?"

You gasped, but did not apologize--you had learned long ago he didn't like you to say sorry with your words. Still, his voice was urgent and rough, and you knew that if you were a good girl he would do you the honor of taking you, so you quickly bared your entire body for him and started touching yourself.

Your little whines were broken, choked off like the true pleasure that was just beyond your grasp. "Alucard," you pleaded. "I can't--it's just not as good." He remained hidden and your noises took on a sorrowful quality.

"Alucard!"

You barely managed to get his name out as your hands continued to touch your body--couldn't he see how you needed him?

"O-only you!" You were wailing now between what words you were able to force out.

Finally--finally--he came closer, fully visible in the moonlight, in only his shirt and pants.

"Only me?" he said as he sat on the far side of the couch and crooked a finger. You crawled across the couch, tears of thanksgiving about to fall from your eyes.

He pulled you onto his lap, legs straddling him. You could feel him through his pants and your entire being was consumed with the need to have him inside you in any and all ways that he wished.

Alucard rested a long finger under your chin and stroked your cheek with his thumb for a moment. Then, putting his lips to your ear, he whispered, "Only me what?"

You tried to press into him, but his other hand stayed your hips.

"Only me what?"

"Only you can make me feel good."

"Why is that, my darling?"

"Because my body is yours, Alucard."

"Undress me. Quickly."

You had undressed him so many times now that you made fast work of it, and although you wished to let your fingers linger on his shoulders and collarbone, his tone of voice made it clear that he did not wish for that.

The moment you had finished removing his pants, he snatched you back into his lap. You opened your legs as wide as possible as he started settling you on his cock.

Alucard made his own sounds of pleasure as you began to move yourself up and down, moving your hips forward a little each time. Your hands were now on his perfect shoulders so you could brace yourself as you rolled down and he bucked up.

An all-consuming euphoria now possessed you, taking you to places so primordial you could no longer vocalize. You could only cry. What supposedly eternal and heavenly paradise could compare with being filled and claimed by Alucard?

You arched up and tilted your head back. Your pretty, long neck was fully exposed, and Alucard was alternating between greedily stroking it and gently grasping it.

You brought your head forward again so you could look into his eyes and tangle your fingers in his long hair. Softly, you said, "Why do you hesitate to drink, my Lord? The blood in my veins, like the rest of my body, is yours to take."

You screamed when he bit into you, of course, but it was no shriek of pain: it was the cry of orgasmic rapture. As you sobbed, he quickened his own movements, drawing out all sorts of babbling promises of your devotion, until he found his own release.

He helped you stand, and the two of you gently swayed back and forth dancing in and out of the moonlight coming through the window, allowing the sweat to cool and dry. You assumed he was about to take you to your bath, but, instead, he laid down on the plush velvet and drew you to him.

When you shivered and your skin pebbled, one of his gorgeous long arms pulled a throw out from under the table. You could tell from the way it settled over your body that it had to be fine cashmere.

He did not stop at just the blanket. He produced another glass, and you heard him open the bottle of Sauternes and pour. One glass, then a second.

He placed a heavy crystal stem in your hand.

"Drink," he said, low and commanding.

Sugared delight in your throat. Silken velvet at your shoulders. Cloud-like cashmere keeping you warm. A beautiful man--well, sort of--who kept you hidden away for your mutual delight.

You looked at Alucard and gently clinked your glass against his. He caught you in a kiss that tasted of the wine and of him. His hand possessively pressed into the small of your back.

Yes, you probably should object. But you weren't going to.

#alucard x reader #alucard x you #hellsing alucard #alucard hellsing #fem reader #cw: unhealthy relationship #cw: stockholm syndrome #cw: blood #my writing

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onestepbackwards · 2 years

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Those Alpha Zoroark hybrid twins in rut, and you and normal sized Zoroark hybrid in heat, maaaybe a little bit of competitiveness, as a treat?

- Jes 👉👈

👀👀👀 you got it! Summary: When you unexpectedly went into your heat, your alpha mates were dragged into their own rut. Good thing your heat allows you to handle them! But one thing you learn, is your mates can be a bit competitive. CW: Slight a/b/o dynamics, hybrid reader, hybrid Ingo and Emmet, heat/rut, breeding kink, size kink Word Count: 641 Words! 🔞18+🔞

To anyone who would have decided to walk in the hybrid twin’s territory that day, they would probably leave in fear with all the growling and whining in the area. The sounds were as if a wild animal was being attacked. They couldn’t be farther from the truth. You mewled in your shared nest, thrashing as Emmet held you from behind while Ingo pounded into you. His large cock practically rearranged your insides with each thrust, and you cried out whenever his cock hit the deepest parts inside you. “...Such a good little mate... So nice and tight for me...” Ingo muttered, pulling your hips close. He dove into your neck, and licked at your scent glands. You pawed at him with a whimper, and he bit down on the bruised, tender flesh. You cried out, and clenched down on his dick in another orgasm, one of many you’ve had throughout the day. Ingo let go of your neck, and came with a growl. “So good... So tight! Gonna breed you... Fill you up with pups...” He moaned, not even stopping his thrusts as loads of cum filled your pussy. You cried out at the feeling, his words barely registering in the back of your mind. Ingo didn’t stop, and you heard growling coming from behind you. “My turn!” You heard Emmet hiss out, and practically lift you off of Ingo. You let out a sad whine when you were lifted off of Ingo’s cock, who in turn let out a frustrated growl. You wanted to sob. You could feel their combined fluids dripping out of you, and you felt so empty. Your body demanded a cock inside you, now. Thankfully, Emmet seemed to hear your wishes, dropping you on his large cock, letting gravity bury him deep within you. You practically sobbed in relief, sighing at the sight of how your stomach bulged slightly from Emmet’s length. Feeling Emmet’s hands on your hips, you let out a squeal when Emmet lifted your hips, and began to piston in you. “So good for us... You take our cocks so well!” Emmet moaned as he gripped you tighter. Your cunt practically sucked him in, it made him nearly see stars. He couldn’t control his hips at this point. He wanted, no, needed to cum in you again. He needed it so badly. He wanted to see you round with his children, so full and swollen. He had to make sure his seed took. He felt you clench around him after a few moments, and howled, cumming in your hole. Your pretty, used cunt milking him for all he was worth. His tongue rolled out of his mouth as he lazily continued to thrust, making sure to pound as much cum as deep as possible. Before he can even finish cumming, you were ripped from his grasp, and Emmet snarls in response. “Hey, I wasn’t finished-!” Ingo gives him a glare, stuffing his cock into you. You cried out, and wrapped your arms around Ingo’s neck. “Too bad. Neither was I.” Emmet bared his teeth, though backed off when he saw your blissed out expression. They couldn’t fight, not if it could hurt you. Emmet’s ears folded back in a pout, accepting it was Ingo’s turn. He’d have you again soon anyway. His tail wagged in anticipation, and his eyes lighting up as you begged for both of them. You felt numb from pleasure as Ingo bullied his large, warm cock back inside you. You felt complete with either of them in you, filling you to the brim. You let out another sob of pleasure as Ingo’s cock pounded into your cervix, determined to pound into you as deep as possible. You felt your toes curl. Even though you had just came, you needed more. Your mates were more than happy to provide.

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hellsitesonlybookclub · 1 year

Text

The Metamorphosis

Chapter I (part 2/2)

The chief clerk now raised his voice, “Mr. Samsa”, he called to him, “what is wrong? You barricade yourself in your room, give us no more than yes or no for an answer, you are causing serious and unnecessary concern to your parents and you fail—and I mention this just by the way—you fail to carry out your business duties in a way that is quite unheard of. I’m speaking here on behalf of your parents and of your employer, and really must request a clear and immediate explanation. I am astonished, quite astonished. I thought I knew you as a calm and sensible person, and now you suddenly seem to be showing off with peculiar whims. This morning, your employer did suggest a possible reason for your failure to appear, it’s true—it had to do with the money that was recently entrusted to you—but I came near to giving him my word of honour that that could not be the right explanation. But now that I see your incomprehensible stubbornness I no longer feel any wish whatsoever to intercede on your behalf. And nor is your position all that secure. I had originally intended to say all this to you in private, but since you cause me to waste my time here for no good reason I don’t see why your parents should not also learn of it. Your turnover has been very unsatisfactory of late; I grant you that it’s not the time of year to do especially good business, we recognise that; but there simply is no time of year to do no business at all, Mr. Samsa, we cannot allow there to be.”

“But Sir”, called Gregor, beside himself and forgetting all else in the excitement, “I’ll open up immediately, just a moment. I’m slightly unwell, an attack of dizziness, I haven’t been able to get up. I’m still in bed now. I’m quite fresh again now, though. I’m just getting out of bed. Just a moment. Be patient! It’s not quite as easy as I’d thought. I’m quite alright now, though. It’s shocking, what can suddenly happen to a person! I was quite alright last night, my parents know about it, perhaps better than me, I had a small symptom of it last night already. They must have noticed it. I don’t know why I didn’t let you know at work! But you always think you can get over an illness without staying at home. Please, don’t make my parents suffer! There’s no basis for any of the accusations you’re making; nobody’s ever said a word to me about any of these things. Maybe you haven’t read the latest contracts I sent in. I’ll set off with the eight o’clock train, as well, these few hours of rest have given me strength. You don’t need to wait, sir; I’ll be in the office soon after you, and please be so good as to tell that to the boss and recommend me to him!”

And while Gregor gushed out these words, hardly knowing what he was saying, he made his way over to the chest of drawers—this was easily done, probably because of the practise he had already had in bed—where he now tried to get himself upright. He really did want to open the door, really did want to let them see him and to speak with the chief clerk; the others were being so insistent, and he was curious to learn what they would say when they caught sight of him. If they were shocked then it would no longer be Gregor’s responsibility and he could rest. If, however, they took everything calmly he would still have no reason to be upset, and if he hurried he really could be at the station for eight o’clock. The first few times he tried to climb up on the smooth chest of drawers he just slid down again, but he finally gave himself one last swing and stood there upright; the lower part of his body was in serious pain but he no longer gave any attention to it. Now he let himself fall against the back of a nearby chair and held tightly to the edges of it with his little legs. By now he had also calmed down, and kept quiet so that he could listen to what the chief clerk was saying.

“Did you understand a word of all that?” the chief clerk asked his parents, “surely he’s not trying to make fools of us”. “Oh, God!” called his mother, who was already in tears, “he could be seriously ill and we’re making him suffer. Grete! Grete!” she then cried. “Mother?” his sister called from the other side. They communicated across Gregor’s room. “You’ll have to go for the doctor straight away. Gregor is ill. Quick, get the doctor. Did you hear the way Gregor spoke just now?” “That was the voice of an animal”, said the chief clerk, with a calmness that was in contrast with his mother’s screams. “Anna! Anna!” his father called into the kitchen through the entrance hall, clapping his hands, “get a locksmith here, now!” And the two girls, their skirts swishing, immediately ran out through the hall, wrenching open the front door of the flat as they went. How had his sister managed to get dressed so quickly? There was no sound of the door banging shut again; they must have left it open; people often do in homes where something awful has happened.

Gregor, in contrast, had become much calmer. So they couldn’t understand his words any more, although they seemed clear enough to him, clearer than before—perhaps his ears had become used to the sound. They had realised, though, that there was something wrong with him, and were ready to help. The first response to his situation had been confident and wise, and that made him feel better. He felt that he had been drawn back in among people, and from the doctor and the locksmith he expected great and surprising achievements—although he did not really distinguish one from the other. Whatever was said next would be crucial, so, in order to make his voice as clear as possible, he coughed a little, but taking care to do this not too loudly as even this might well sound different from the way that a human coughs and he was no longer sure he could judge this for himself. Meanwhile, it had become very quiet in the next room. Perhaps his parents were sat at the table whispering with the chief clerk, or perhaps they were all pressed against the door and listening.

Gregor slowly pushed his way over to the door with the chair. Once there he let go of it and threw himself onto the door, holding himself upright against it using the adhesive on the tips of his legs. He rested there a little while to recover from the effort involved and then set himself to the task of turning the key in the lock with his mouth. He seemed, unfortunately, to have no proper teeth—how was he, then, to grasp the key?—but the lack of teeth was, of course, made up for with a very strong jaw; using the jaw, he really was able to start the key turning, ignoring the fact that he must have been causing some kind of damage as a brown fluid came from his mouth, flowed over the key and dripped onto the floor. “Listen”, said the chief clerk in the next room, “he’s turning the key.” Gregor was greatly encouraged by this; but they all should have been calling to him, his father and his mother too: “Well done, Gregor”, they should have cried, “keep at it, keep hold of the lock!” And with the idea that they were all excitedly following his efforts, he bit on the key with all his strength, paying no attention to the pain he was causing himself. As the key turned round he turned around the lock with it, only holding himself upright with his mouth, and hung onto the key or pushed it down again with the whole weight of his body as needed. The clear sound of the lock as it snapped back was Gregor’s sign that he could break his concentration, and as he regained his breath he said to himself: “So, I didn’t need the locksmith after all”. Then he lay his head on the handle of the door to open it completely.

Because he had to open the door in this way, it was already wide open before he could be seen. He had first to slowly turn himself around one of the double doors, and he had to do it very carefully if he did not want to fall flat on his back before entering the room. He was still occupied with this difficult movement, unable to pay attention to anything else, when he heard the chief clerk exclaim a loud “Oh!”, which sounded like the soughing of the wind. Now he also saw him—he was the nearest to the door—his hand pressed against his open mouth and slowly retreating as if driven by a steady and invisible force. Gregor’s mother, her hair still dishevelled from bed despite the chief clerk’s being there, looked at his father. Then she unfolded her arms, took two steps forward towards Gregor and sank down onto the floor into her skirts that spread themselves out around her as her head disappeared down onto her breast. His father looked hostile, and clenched his fists as if wanting to knock Gregor back into his room. Then he looked uncertainly round the living room, covered his eyes with his hands and wept so that his powerful chest shook.

So Gregor did not go into the room, but leant against the inside of the other door which was still held bolted in place. In this way only half of his body could be seen, along with his head above it which he leant over to one side as he peered out at the others. Meanwhile the day had become much lighter; part of the endless, grey-black building on the other side of the street—which was a hospital—could be seen quite clearly with the austere and regular line of windows piercing its façade; the rain was still falling, now throwing down large, individual droplets which hit the ground one at a time. The washing up from breakfast lay on the table; there was so much of it because, for Gregor’s father, breakfast was the most important meal of the day and he would stretch it out for several hours as he sat reading a number of different newspapers. On the wall exactly opposite there was photograph of Gregor when he was a lieutenant in the army, his sword in his hand and a carefree smile on his face as he called forth respect for his uniform and bearing. The door to the entrance hall was open and as the front door of the flat was also open he could see onto the landing and the stairs where they began their way down below.

“Now, then”, said Gregor, well aware that he was the only one to have kept calm, “I’ll get dressed straight away now, pack up my samples and set off. Will you please just let me leave? You can see”, he said to the chief clerk, “that I’m not stubborn and I like to do my job; being a commercial traveller is arduous but without travelling I couldn’t earn my living. So where are you going, in to the office? Yes? Will you report everything accurately, then? It’s quite possible for someone to be temporarily unable to work, but that’s just the right time to remember what’s been achieved in the past and consider that later on, once the difficulty has been removed, he will certainly work with all the more diligence and concentration. You’re well aware that I’m seriously in debt to our employer as well as having to look after my parents and my sister, so that I’m trapped in a difficult situation, but I will work my way out of it again. Please don’t make things any harder for me than they are already, and don’t take sides against me at the office. I know that nobody likes the travellers. They think we earn an enormous wage as well as having a soft time of it. That’s just prejudice but they have no particular reason to think better of it. But you, sir, you have a better overview than the rest of the staff, in fact, if I can say this in confidence, a better overview than the boss himself—it’s very easy for a businessman like him to make mistakes about his employees and judge them more harshly than he should. And you’re also well aware that we travellers spend almost the whole year away from the office, so that we can very easily fall victim to gossip and chance and groundless complaints, and it’s almost impossible to defend yourself from that sort of thing, we don’t usually even hear about them, or if at all it’s when we arrive back home exhausted from a trip, and that’s when we feel the harmful effects of what’s been going on without even knowing what caused them. Please, don’t go away, at least first say something to show that you grant that I’m at least partly right!”

But the chief clerk had turned away as soon as Gregor had started to speak, and, with protruding lips, only stared back at him over his trembling shoulders as he left. He did not keep still for a moment while Gregor was speaking, but moved steadily towards the door without taking his eyes off him. He moved very gradually, as if there had been some secret prohibition on leaving the room. It was only when he had reached the entrance hall that he made a sudden movement, drew his foot from the living room, and rushed forward in a panic. In the hall, he stretched his right hand far out towards the stairway as if out there, there were some supernatural force waiting to save him.

Gregor realised that it was out of the question to let the chief clerk go away in this mood if his position in the firm was not to be put into extreme danger. That was something his parents did not understand very well; over the years, they had become convinced that this job would provide for Gregor for his entire life, and besides, they had so much to worry about at present that they had lost sight of any thought for the future. Gregor, though, did think about the future. The chief clerk had to be held back, calmed down, convinced and finally won over; the future of Gregor and his family depended on it! If only his sister were here! She was clever; she was already in tears while Gregor was still lying peacefully on his back. And the chief clerk was a lover of women, surely she could persuade him; she would close the front door in the entrance hall and talk him out of his shocked state. But his sister was not there, Gregor would have to do the job himself. And without considering that he still was not familiar with how well he could move about in his present state, or that his speech still might not—or probably would not—be understood, he let go of the door; pushed himself through the opening; tried to reach the chief clerk on the landing who, ridiculously, was holding on to the banister with both hands; but Gregor fell immediately over and, with a little scream as he sought something to hold onto, landed on his numerous little legs. Hardly had that happened than, for the first time that day, he began to feel alright with his body; the little legs had the solid ground under them; to his pleasure, they did exactly as he told them; they were even making the effort to carry him where he wanted to go; and he was soon believing that all his sorrows would soon be finally at an end. He held back the urge to move but swayed from side to side as he crouched there on the floor. His mother was not far away in front of him and seemed, at first, quite engrossed in herself, but then she suddenly jumped up with her arms outstretched and her fingers spread shouting: “Help, for pity’s sake, Help!” The way she held her head suggested she wanted to see Gregor better, but the unthinking way she was hurrying backwards showed that she did not; she had forgotten that the table was behind her with all the breakfast things on it; when she reached the table she sat quickly down on it without knowing what she was doing; without even seeming to notice that the coffee pot had been knocked over and a gush of coffee was pouring down onto the carpet.

“Mother, mother”, said Gregor gently, looking up at her. He had completely forgotten the chief clerk for the moment, but could not help himself snapping in the air with his jaws at the sight of the flow of coffee. That set his mother screaming anew, she fled from the table and into the arms of his father as he rushed towards her. Gregor, though, had no time to spare for his parents now; the chief clerk had already reached the stairs; with his chin on the banister, he looked back for the last time. Gregor made a run for him; he wanted to be sure of reaching him; the chief clerk must have expected something, as he leapt down several steps at once and disappeared; his shouts resounding all around the staircase. The flight of the chief clerk seemed, unfortunately, to put Gregor’s father into a panic as well. Until then he had been relatively self controlled, but now, instead of running after the chief clerk himself, or at least not impeding Gregor as he ran after him, Gregor’s father seized the chief clerk’s stick in his right hand (the chief clerk had left it behind on a chair, along with his hat and overcoat), picked up a large newspaper from the table with his left, and used them to drive Gregor back into his room, stamping his foot at him as he went.

Gregor’s appeals to his father were of no help, his appeals were simply not understood, however much he humbly turned his head his father merely stamped his foot all the harder. Across the room, despite the chilly weather, Gregor’s mother had pulled open a window, leant far out of it and pressed her hands to her face. A strong draught of air flew in from the street towards the stairway, the curtains flew up, the newspapers on the table fluttered and some of them were blown onto the floor. Nothing would stop Gregor’s father as he drove him back, making hissing noises at him like a wild man. Gregor had never had any practice in moving backwards and was only able to go very slowly. If Gregor had only been allowed to turn round he would have been back in his room straight away, but he was afraid that if he took the time to do that his father would become impatient, and there was the threat of a lethal blow to his back or head from the stick in his father’s hand any moment. Eventually, though, Gregor realised that he had no choice as he saw, to his disgust, that he was quite incapable of going backwards in a straight line; so he began, as quickly as possible and with frequent anxious glances at his father, to turn himself round.

It went very slowly, but perhaps his father was able to see his good intentions as he did nothing to hinder him, in fact now and then he used the tip of his stick to give directions from a distance as to which way to turn. If only his father would stop that unbearable hissing! It was making Gregor quite confused. When he had nearly finished turning round, still listening to that hissing, he made a mistake and turned himself back a little the way he had just come. He was pleased when he finally had his head in front of the doorway, but then saw that it was too narrow, and his body was too broad to get through it without further difficulty. In his present mood, it obviously did not occur to his father to open the other of the double doors so that Gregor would have enough space to get through. He was merely fixed on the idea that Gregor should be got back into his room as quickly as possible. Nor would he ever have allowed Gregor the time to get himself upright as preparation for getting through the doorway. What he did, making more noise than ever, was to drive Gregor forwards all the harder as if there had been nothing in the way; it sounded to Gregor as if there was now more than one father behind him; it was not a pleasant experience, and Gregor pushed himself into the doorway without regard for what might happen. One side of his body lifted itself, he lay at an angle in the doorway, one flank scraped on the white door and was painfully injured, leaving vile brown flecks on it, soon he was stuck fast and would not have been able to move at all by himself, the little legs along one side hung quivering in the air while those on the other side were pressed painfully against the ground. Then his father gave him a hefty shove from behind which released him from where he was held and sent him flying, and heavily bleeding, deep into his room. The door was slammed shut with the stick, then, finally, all was quiet.

#the metamorphosis #kafka #franz kafka #kafkaesque #gregor samsa #classic lit #classic literature #read along

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