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kneelingshadowsalome · 6 months
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FATUM NOS IUNGEBIT 3/4
König x F!Reader
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Summary: You have seen him in your dreams. The seer has divined his coming. But nothing has prepared you for witnessing him in the flesh. (Historical AU where König fights for the Roman Empire in an auxiliary unit, finds a cute barbarian woman and decides to keep her as his own.) Part 1 Part 2 Word count: 9.4 k Tags/warnings: 18+ ONLY. Spoils of war/enemies to lovers trope, graphic depictions of violence, historical gruesomeness, pining, odd banter, mixed feelings, romantic fluff, dubcon cuddling, eventual smut. Captor/captive dynamic. König is a brutal warrior... and a gentle giant. A/N: König takes liberties with his mouth. Dubcon is at its most dubcon in this chapter so please tread carefully <3 The actual smut happens in the next (and last) part. Long chapter because these two just can't behave!!
The days are getting warmer now. 
The sun warms the tent during the day, and the sound of birds searching for a mate threatens to drive you to madness. They sing during nighttime, too, and you miss the sturdy clay walls of your hut that blocked at least some of the sounds from outside. Now you are barely sheltered from wind and rain that beat the tent every now and then and can escape the swelling song of spring and lovesick birds to nowhere. König only snores with steady content as you mull over your strange fate there in his cozy bed, wondering how crazy it is that he never lets you go when he sleeps.
If König has an early council, you spend the morning eating breakfast in bed while studying odd parchments the translator gave you. The old man was quite insulted, not because you asked, but because you showed interest in the documents that, apparently, were of least importance to him. 
You don’t care that they’re “only” travel guides because they’re filled with Roman letters and numbers and usually illustrated with pictures of columns. You don’t understand a word they say and how those strange papers could ever be a travel guide to anyone, but you like to trace the letters and pictures with your finger. König clearly understood your fascination with them: he left you this morning with another smile, which told you he only thought you were simply adorable this way. He tried to tell you that the letters represent towns and the numbers tell the distances between those towns, but they still remain bizarre pieces of paper to you.
Men pass by occasionally; you can hear it from how their gears clonk and clatter and swish. You can hear the soft thump of sandals on the dirt, but you pay it no attention because you’ve always trusted that you are safe here. As long as you stay inside the tent, no one will touch you, even if they can currently see you because the flap is left open a wink. 
The only times his men witness you are when König takes you out for a walk in the woods so that you can take care of your bodily needs. Everyone can see that your hands are never tied, your face is never bruised, and your posture is still that of a proud, unbroken woman. And everyone looks at you with both hunger and wonder. Apparently, you are an even tempting spoil because you are not yet spoiled. 
The special treatment was rubbed in your face one time when you passed by a Roman soldier disciplining his slave, a woman who had shared your fate and clearly was having the worst of it. The other half of her face was unrecognizable, but the man kept beating her, and you stared in horror as whatever deed she had done to anger the man was now being punished far too cruelly. 
“Romans very dumb,” König said from next to you without even shedding a glance at the morbid scene. No one seemed to give a shit about what was happening to that poor woman, but you would never have expected such a comment to come from König’s mouth. When you asked him what he meant by that, he only shrugged and said: “That man piss on his luck.”
You wonder if the only reason why you haven’t been raped yet is because you are some sort of a lucky charm to him. The mere thought has the effect of making your blood boil, but some distant, tender voice inside you reminds you that König is not Roman. He does not share Roman customs, even if he fights with and for them. Perhaps slaves are treated differently in his land. Perhaps in there, it is considered an outrage and an insult to the gods to beat a woman, free or not.
Whatever his reasons are for not beating and raping you to death, it was a tremendous stroke of luck that König found you first. You dropped right there on his feet when he was victorious, so of course his men allowed him to take you as his: you were clearly a gift from the gods. But now that time has passed, you understand you are by no means safe if you wander outside this tent. König can protect you only when he is present or when you are safely tucked away in his own personal space. 
It’s a false feeling of safety, however, because you soon learn that out of sight is out of mind for these soldiers. Now that you are on display, sweetly and neatly on the bed, a tiny little wrinkle forming between your brows from studying the peculiar parchment, you are like fresh livestock on the marketplace, even inside the tent. You notice that someone else is in here with you only when you hear the sound of munching and turn. 
A relatively big soldier is standing in the doorway, eating an apple, watching you like he would rather have a bite out of you.
And you thank all the gods and stars above you, all the spirits and the Mother below you, that he doesn’t even get to take a step before a sword impales his chest.
König kills his own man so casually that all the thoughts of him falling to the gentle side of giants disappear instantly. He even twists the sword inside the broad man from daring to cast eyes on you. And you probably should feel bad for him… But you don’t. Not at all. The apple falls into the dirt and rolls away, but the man slumps into the threshold of the outside world and the safe womb of the tent, like an offering to guardian spirits - or to you.
You look up at König, eyes wide only because you are yet again speechless, but this time because of odd, bashful gratitude. 
“No touching,” he says without even blinking – it sounds like a stern explanation.
“No touching,” you agree with a whisper. König only nods, wipes his gladius clean on the dead soldier’s cloak, and carries the body into the woods.
You don’t know if he has lost some of the favour he enjoys among the Romans after killing one of their soldiers. You suspect he has not. Actually, you are sure his reputation only soared for it. He just showed everyone that his prize is not to be touched: you are not to be even looked upon. Romans probably respect such a thing.
A few wagons arrive one morning, carrying various supplies for the soldiers. There are many other items too, completely unrelated to warfare but all to do with pleasure and gambling and trade. You assume König gets to pick his favourites among the first soldiers, if not the first soldier, from the abundant cargo that arrived, because he brings his spoils to you with boyish excitement. There is close to nothing there for himself: only a thick, heavy cloak, made of dark wool with lush fur on the shoulders. It looks like something a northern king would wear, and you find yourself quite happy for him, but the other items he’s carrying are clearly all hand-picked just for you. 
There is a dress, a pair of sandals, a bone comb, some fruit and a large, round copper dish. It serves as a mirror as you change into the dress – a Roman one, dyed ocean blue – just to appease König and get him off your back. It hurts your heart to see how happy it makes him to see you accept his gifts. He holds the dim, uneven mirror in front of you when you get the dress on, and you’re feeling strangely meek: you’re not even sure if you have put it on properly. The bone comb is milk white and has two horses carved on it – it reminds you of the offering that was never made to appease the Great Mother because it couldn’t have prevented the Titan from coming to your lands. It’s another odd omen: black horses now turned to white, but an omen for what, you can’t say. 
And then… he kneels. 
König falls at your feet and starts putting the Roman sandals on, tying the strings around your calves so gently that it makes you feel like you’re made of clay. The sandals are not the kind he wears: they’re made for women, apparently, because they’re so skimpy and delicate. The strings reach the upper part of your calf, and when he’s done with you, happy to have now clothed you in Roman garb, he caresses your thigh and presses a kiss above your knee. 
And he looks up at you like you’re everything but his captive. He looks at you like you’re a queen. He stares at you like he’s the slave here.
“You like?”
The soft rumble catches you off guard, as does the fond caress he gives your leg. He doesn’t even try to move his hand upwards and under the dress; he just admires you from the ground, looking a bit foolish while crouched there at your feet. You swallow arduously and nod. What else are you supposed to do? 
He smiles with his eyes and gives you another kiss. He presses it on the sensitive part where your calf meets the inside of your knee. He even raises his hood to do it, and you finally feel his breath as his lips meet your skin, hot but tender. You fight the urge to shrink from him, and despite it only being a soft peck, a lover’s touch, the kiss leaves a burning sensation on your skin.
Then he tucks your dress down, like a slave who simply stole a little kiss from his mistress. You’re rendered weak and silent before such reverence, but then the playfulness returns as he raises one finger, as if telling you not to say a word because he just had an idea. You look at him with odd curiosity as he crawls on all fours and reaches for something underneath the bed. You panic a little, fearing he might notice that you’ve been there, too: rummaging through his things and throwing the pieces of jewellery back there without caring to ensure that they are placed back in the same position you found them in. But he doesn’t seem to care or notice.
He tries to offer you the golden pendant first, the one that has three discs on it. It’s a little too much, and you shake your head, fearing you will upset him by declining his gift. He tries to offer you a more delicate necklace next: full of cute, filigreed beads, but you shake your head again. He wishes to give you a trinket so badly that you finally raise your hand and graze your fingertips over a leather string holding a few chunks of amber. It also bears the claws of some animal: fox, perhaps. He looks very pleased with your choice and puts your new possession around your neck. You reach for the copper plate yourself this time and hold it up to see how you look in your odd Roman dress and your humble but powerful new necklace.
“Sehr schön,” König says behind you as you take in the wobbly image. He is so, so happy - you have never seen him quite so happy. It looks like he thought this to be the prettiest, most compelling piece of jewellery too; as if the gold and beads were simply currency for him, too. As if it was obvious that you would be interested in bones and sea gold instead of the gold of men. Then he pulls out something from under his tunic: another leather string that has a large hunk of bone hanging from it. He’s presenting it to you like he wants to show how you two are now very much alike.
“What is it…?” You ask, trying to determine whether the bone came from an elk or a deer.
“Bear cock,” he says proudly while dangling it in front of you like it’s the most natural thing in the world for a man to carry the penis bone of a bear around his neck. “Makes man strong in battle and bed.”
“I don’t think you need that,” you whisper while looking up at him. It’s your first joke to him, and he laughs. Heartily.
“Kleine Fee. You have only seen me fight.”
He puts it back under his tunic as if it’s his secret amulet now. You really don’t think he needs any more luck in war, or in any other… field. He seems like the kind of man who can pleasure women all day. It’s a bitter thought, somehow, and makes your heart feel heavy. You wonder how many women he has had already when you have refused to open your legs for him.
“We can try how good it works in bed,” he offers, as cheerfully as ever.
Oh. 
Oh… 
“I’m—I’m hungry. I think I need to eat something,” you summon an excuse out of thin air while raising your hands against his chest to keep him away. As if you could get your breakfast down after him saying things like that…
“Hungrig? I can feed you,” he suggests, still in the happiest of moods. Then he sweeps you off your feet and carries you to the table. He’s ever generous today: you get to sit on his lap as he starts to feed you grapes.
And you didn’t think he’d actually, veritably feed you. But that’s exactly what he does. You get an entire meal: ripe fruits, a thick handful of bread, a fine slice of fat, delicious cheese. Wine to wash it down, and then some more grapes. He holds them gently on your lips until you open your mouth a little so that he can push them onto your tongue. He watches with utter content how you eat everything he offers you. He even gives you a few bounces with his knee, and every now and then, he gropes your tits: just squeezes them and plays around with them while you eat.
It is quite evident that this man really, really likes your boobs. Perhaps that is why he carries the statue of Great Mother around… To your horror, you realize the piece of carved wood is not an idol of worship for this man, just a lewd image he probably digs up and looks at when he wants to stroke his cock.
Gods... This man is even worse than you thought.
You begin to pout again, and he draws you flush against him, seeing that he somehow managed to make you displeased. Unaware as to what could have caused this, he gives you another bounce and tries to find the reason for your sudden change of mood.
“Are you fed now?”
“Yes,” you mope even more as you realize you would very much like him to continue feeding you even if you’re full. To just… do that thing with the grapes again. Just a few more.
“Gut. We have to leave soon.”
“Why?”
He shrugs. “To fight.”
The camp is packed up in such haste that you find yourself under the sun in practically no time. You stay as close to König as possible without being glued to him, seeing that the new dress and hairstyle you made with the comb is high currency among the war-torn, lust-filled soldiers. Someone gives you a long whistle, which is followed by a few harsh comments you luckily don’t understand, but all the stares are cut off when König stops preparing his horse, rises to his full height, and wraps his fingers around the handle of his gladius.
You don’t get a single look after that, not even a sideways glance. Everyone acts like you don’t even exist.
The army moves at a slow pace at first, leaving a heavy dust cloud behind. It’s a fine day for travelling because there isn’t a single cloud in the sky. Everyone seems to be having a good time except for the slaves, and König is the only one who is vigilant, watching his surroundings at all times, head turning from side to side, hand never leaving his sword. 
You get a horse – his horse – and a lot of hateful stares from the other women, none of whom you have ever seen before. Captive girls from other villages, you presume, and they all hate you now because you get to ride a strong black stallion while they have to march in a dust cloud with their hands bound and their feet full of blisters. Their captors don’t give much thought to feeding or giving water to these poor women, mainly because they’re too busy laughing with each other and having hearty gulps from their wine sacks. You wonder if these men have ever fed these women a single grape during their campaign.
König, on the other hand, marches next to you like he’s your servant. He offers you his waterskin, his wineskin, too, and as the march goes on, an awkward knot starts to form inside your belly.
He’s behaving so oddly. You can’t find any other reason for his behaviour than that he simply has no full understanding of Roman customs because he comes from somewhere else. (Mountains, he said, when you asked him.)
You only now notice that he has servants but only uses them to pack or set up the tent. Other high-ranking officers and commanders have their servants with them at all times, tending to their every need. König is the only one who behaves like a foot soldier: he pours his own wine, gets his rations and supplies himself, lights his oil lamps without help and never lets anyone else touch his armour or swords. 
The servant he uses the most is the translator, a slave who’s clearly responsible for teaching König more and more of your words. He also serves as a mediator when König gets ready for another battle. You have naively wanted to forget the reason why these men are here in the first place, and as you see König putting on his full armour the next day, tying the swords on his waist and leaving to search for his shield, you feel like bursting into tears or a scream. You look away as he gets dressed, and refuse to give him a single kind look that morning. You stand with your hands crossed over your chest as he’s finally ready and fetches the old man to the tent again.
The Roman soon stands next to him as König takes a step and falls on one knee before you.
“He asks you to bless him,” the old translator says – weary and bored.
You stop breathing for a second and look at König, there at your feet again, head bowed, leaning on one elbow placed on a strong knee.
Bless him… For going to slaughter another clan? Give your blessing to him leaving people fatherless, childless and homeless? 
Is this some sort of a joke?
“Are my words… correct? Master asks that you give him your blessing for the upcoming battle.”
You bite your lip in frustration. You want to put your hand over this proud warrior’s head and send him away with words of might and fortune, but even the thought of wanting to do that is about to make you sick.
“I will do no such thing,” you say coldly and earn a sad, confused stare from König, who raises his head to look at you with a horrifying, pleading gaze. This man doesn’t beg for anything from anyone, and yet here he is, in his full armour, armed to the teeth and looking like the God of War again, asking for a kind word or two. You turn away, not because you deny him, but because you can’t stand to be under that defenceless gaze. The Roman sighs behind you, and from the clatter of König’s gear, you can hear that he has gotten up and is about to leave. 
You turn again, only to face his withdrawing back. Tense, and already beaten.
He grabs the satchel, the one that holds his Mother, but stops to look at it like it’s simply an ordinary object instead of a powerful entity. Then he places it back down on the table with a sigh. You look with horror as he leaves for war without taking his amulet, idol, fate, source of luck and joy – whatever the statue represents to this man – with him.
It doesn’t take long before you regret you didn’t give him your “blessing”. 
It somehow feels wrong that he left without it. You’re his captive, but he has fed you, clothed you, kept you warm. He has practically done no harm to you except hold you through the night and have a few gropes at your tits, which you haven’t found harmful at all… The least you could do to thank him is to lay a hand upon his head or sword before he left. Just a simple little gesture, not even a true blessing… Just a little something would have sufficed, to help him go into battle with a slightly lighter heart. 
Because as much as you loathe this man, you don’t actually want him dead. You don’t want him to march into battle and think you wish him ill. You don’t want König to get careless just for the sake of feeling miserable about the thought that his little slave girl despises him.
Because you don’t despise him.
You just don’t… like him. 
And he’s your captor still. Why should he deserve your blessing?
But the image of him cutting through his enemies with sorrow and bleakness in his stare, walking into a spear just because he’s had enough of life and more than enough of difficult, uncaring, ungrateful women, makes your heart bleed. He could’ve taken Mother with him since he didn’t get a good luck’s wish from you, but he chose to leave even Her behind. As if his faith had failed him, as if the few things and people he has ever placed his trust in have now abandoned him. 
The night rolls in, and the moon crosses the sky slowly, so slowly, as you wait for his return. The old Roman looks at you sideways every time you peek outside the flap and sigh. Your guard is a weak, old man, but you reckon that if you were to escape, the tired slave would simply follow you out of the camp and tell König which direction you have gone so that he can hunt you down when he returns. The few Romans left to guard the portable garrison would probably seize you and take you as their plaything before you managed to set a foot outside the vallus, and even if König came back to claim you, you could be a bloody heap by the time he returned.
And it’s not even caution keeping you inside the tent. You don’t actually think about fleeing at all. 
In the dead of night, you go to his satchel and pull out the statue of the Great Mother.
“Dear Mother... Great Mother. Please let him have his victory. Please let him come home unhurt. Even if he fails, please let there not be a scratch on him as he falls. Please, please, please…”
You improvise your prayer as you go, thinking about something to offer Her while being captive and not having access to most of the resources you would normally go to.
“I’ll give you my next moonblood. I will give you amber and fox claws…”
Your heart hurts, knowing you just promised the necklace König gave you as your sacrifice. But it’s a small gift for his safe return, and you renew your prayer, over and over again, while squeezing the Mother between your hands and pressing Her against your forehead.
You’re not sure if She can even hear you, because haven’t you wished this man dead not too long ago? You return the Mother to her satchel and pace around the tent, about to go mad. When the first horses arrive, you almost run outside to see if you can see or hear him coming. Soldiers march into the camp: there is so much din and racket outside that you know this is the least opportune moment to go outside and show yourself to the survivors who clearly have their morale and cocks up high from the recent battle. You wait and wait and wait, thinking about whether your god is among the wounded, being carried to some other tent where they treat injuries. You go and sit on the bed; you rise up and sit on the table. Then you go and press your ear to the fabric of the tent and try to listen like a fox. 
The flap is, blessedly, finally drawn aside, and you hurry to meet whoever has arrived. It’s König – of course – breathing heavy, looking slightly high-strung but primarily unscathed, and you forget yourself completely when running to him.
“Are you hurt!?”
He takes off his helmet and takes in a good breath of air, eyes melting into pure love when he sees you.
“Nein. Not a scratch.”
You swallow your relief – of course no one can get to this man. Your fears have been stupid and ridiculous. But in the deepest chasm of your heart, you thank the Mother three times. You promise to deliver her your sacrifice as soon as possible.
“You fear for me?” He asks, so excited again that you have to dig your nails into your palm so that you won’t go and clutch him and cry from joy. You don’t nod or shake your head; you only stare at him with what must look like a frightened deer stare.
Your giant comes to hug you so tight you can’t even breathe. Then he lifts you into the air, and there is nothing you can do - there is nothing you even want to do but to be there in his stout embrace. You’re so relieved that he is alive and unhurt that there are tears in your eyes, and he sees them, and smiles.
“Don’t worry, little Fee. Ich könnte dich niemals verlassen.” His voice is throaty and parched; apparently, he has shouted his throat raw on the field. 
You almost say you’re sorry that you didn’t give him your blessing, but seeing how pleased, triumphant, and gleeful he is causes you to shut your mouth and shut it tight. It’s enough that you have babbled prayers for him all night, praying your knees and tongue sore.
König returns you to the ground and leaves, only to return with ample loot. Two slaves carry in a small but heavy jute sack of coin, a tiny chest filled with honey, two bottles of scented oils, three gorgeous jugs of milk, a beautiful bronze sword, all laid there at your feet.
“Für dich,” he says, throwing a wide arc with his hand to gesture that all this is now yours. You watch all the stunning, lavish, extraordinary gifts, again picked with care just for you. You remember how there was not a single coin in this tent before you were dragged in, no bronze, no gold, no milk nor honey. No fine dresses, no stolen, scented oils. How many families did he have to kill to bring all these fine goods for you?
“I don’t want your loot,” you whisper on the brink of tears.
“What…do you want?” The smile in his eyes fades, and it stabs your heart full of pain. “More sea honey?”
“No, I–”
“Slaves?”
“No,” you step forward. If only you two could have met some other time, in some other place… “I just…I want my freedom.”
“What will you do with freedom…?” 
You finally get to see what König is like when he argues. He cannot understand your logic; he can’t understand what more he must do to satisfy you and make you happy. 
“Your chief is dead,” he says bluntly, causing your head to feel two times too small for your anger and pain. 
“You don’t have to remind me,” you blurt, equally bluntly. Because whose fault is that? This man is a thick-skulled, thick-cocked idiot.
“You have no husband. No village.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Why angry?”
“Because you are infuriating,” you almost shriek.
He looks at you, lost and confused, not knowing how to calm you down or make you pleased again. And it must be confusing: some gifts work, some don’t. Other times, you look at him lovely and sweet; other times you sulk and pout. You have luckily stopped your crying, but now you have suddenly decided to yell at him?
He approaches you after seemingly coming to the conclusion that you must want him to either pet or fuck you. He tries to raise his hands to touch you, but you push him away.
“Don’t you fucking dare grope me again!”
He withdraws quickly, now utterly nonplussed. If you don’t even want to be held, then what is he to do? This goes against all the laws of this world: he has arrived, triumphant and joyous from the battle, clearly favoured by all the gods, above and below, and favoured in full. The only one who doesn’t grant him a boon is you. His head tips to the side - it always does that when he’s curious or thinking hard. Then his eyes light up with understanding, and you know you’re about to hear more nonsense coming out of that oafish mouth.
“You don’t want me to fight?”
“I don’t…care what you do,” you scoff.
“Ah. You hate Romans?”
“Yes, I hate Romans. I wish they would all die. I hate their stupid battles and their stupid campaigns. And I hate you too,” your spirit rises with your words, your voice gaining volume and strength as you hurl all your frustration at him. 
And he’s shocked. Not at your first declaration, nor the second, not even the third. It’s the last sentence that clearly drives a dagger straight into his heart. 
He steps back, nearly toppling a milk jug as he pulls away from you. Then he mumbles something under his breath, something in his own crude language. The words are muffled by the mask as he scratches the back of his neck and leaves the tent without even taking his blood-stained armour off.
His name, the name that sounds so foreign to you, never leaves your mouth. But the following words do.
“Wait, I didn’t… I didn’t mean it.”
Not all of it.
He’s out of the tent by then, and you’re left with your beautiful gifts, your bitter sorrow and regret. You sigh and look up, hoping you could see the sky and whisper your inquiry into the night air. 
Why on earth did you two have to meet like this? Why does he have to be so thick-skulled and so… So him?
You calm your racing heart and start to organize the loot he brought you. You have never liked messy places and have done your best to keep this tent from getting cluttered. You taste some of the milk he brought you and inhale the sweet scent of those oils; you dip your little finger inside the honey jar and have a taste. The golden liquid tastes like the food of the gods when paired with milk. You put the blade on the table where König usually keeps his swords and settle to wait for him. 
And you have to wait for a long time, so long that you eventually withdraw to the bed, alone and with a heavy heart. When König finally returns, you can hear he has had a drink. More than one, too: he has probably drunk an entire jug of wine alone. He doffs his armour with curses and sighs, and lets it drop on the ground with a sloppy clang that makes you jolt under the furs. He eats something very noisily while throwing his helmet somewhere to the ground too, burps loudly, and sighs again: so deeply that it makes your heart burn. After getting rid of the tunic and his sandals – an operation that takes him more than a while – he crawls on the bed with a heavy breath. Your heart is at your throat as the stench of wine hits you, and his hands are clumsy and stern when he comes under the same fur and reaches for you.
“König—”
Your whisper ends abruptly as you are pulled against a familiar, broad chest. He growls at you for being awake – or at himself for waking you up with a drunken racket.
“I don’t… I didn’t…” you start weakly and have to clear your throat as he huffs against your neck, listening to what you are trying to say. 
“I don’t hate you,” you finally whisper.
He grumbles against your back and buries his masked face in your neck. The arm around your middle tightens and tightens, and you hurry to praise his gifts.
“The honey is delicious. And the oils are–”
"Fee… Du machst mich verrückt."
He speaks through gritted teeth while panting laboriously in your hair. You're relieved to hear sorrow instead of anger in his voice, but it’s his body that makes you arch your back and guide your bottom to meet his crotch.
The biggest mistake you’ve ever done, surely, because the whole body behind you grows taut. He gives you a tight roll of his hips, pushing his cock against you with immediate fervour. His balls meet your bottom, tight and heavy: you have gone to bed in your ridiculous Roman dress because you were feeling cold, but you can still feel them. You can feel all of him.
“König… We–We need to sleep…”
You sound like a bitch in heat, not at all like a woman who wants to stop wherever this heated cuddle is spiralling into. König is letting out noises you didn’t even know a man could make, and it makes your cunt wetter than ever before: tight and throbbing and embarrassingly needy. You try to remind yourself that this is not the proper time or way, that you don’t want it to happen like this: with the smell of wine and blood and dirt and sweat surrounding you, with him soon thrusting that cock between your thighs and shooting his seed on the bed before he can even get it in. You don’t want him when he’s drunk, and you don’t want him when he’s clearly a bit angry with you still. You place a weak hand over his, the one currently wrapped around your middle like a bond. 
“Please, I mean it…” 
“Not the time for sleep, little one,” he rasps on your shoulder, mask dragged aside and mouth breathing hot against your skin. His voice is gentle but his body is not: it turns out he has only been waiting for the slightest little cue to have the permission to take you. Unfortunately for you, moaning and grinding your hips against him is more than just a cue.
“Göttin der Erde... Gib dich mir.” 
He grunts odd, boorish words on your shoulder, leaving you breathless with another tight roll of his hips. It feels like a spell or a chant, the way he speaks. You want nothing more than to give yourself to him, and fear that whatever tie has been knotted between you two, whatever shackle has bound your souls together, has also granted him the ability to hear your thoughts. He must’ve heard them, or then he must smell the change in the air, because he rolls you on your back and pushes a knee between your legs.
“Meine Königin... Ich werde dich sehr glücklich machen,” he mutters more incantations in your neck, broad thigh forcing your legs further apart. He doesn’t even need strength to coax them open: they drag up and aside by themselves. 
“Ah–Why can’t you talk like normal people…” 
You sigh your silly thoughts out into the night air, and your fierce giant turns his head a little, now right there next to your cheek.
"Normal? Was ist das…?"
Your lips draw into a quivering little smile – you just can’t help it. Him lying half on top of you, asking what the word ‘normal’ means while smelling like an entire wine house just burned down makes your lips and heart flutter. Your soft laugh makes him raise his head a little, drunken, half-lidded eyes now fixed on you.
“The opposite of you?” You offer innocently and try not to laugh, but it’s no use. You start to snicker, then giggle, and the way he growls only makes things worse. 
“You little–I will go crazy because of you,” he whispers, drunk as a heartbroken man can be. Your own heart seems to open with a flood.
“Then go crazy,” you whisper back. 
And gods… He takes your sigh as a permit to go absolutely berserk. He crawls on top of you and rips your dress apart from the middle with both hands, exposing your breasts to him and the cold night air. There's a weight in his gaze that turns your nipples hard; a gaze of promise, just before he descends.
He attacks you like a starving man, devours and licks and sucks your breasts until you shake and moan on the bed, until your hands come to cradle his head with greed.
“I will make you scream tonight,” he pants roughly on your tits – you can feel the words on your skin. You’re veritably afraid that this man will swallow you before he even gets to the main event, which is no doubt to satiate the need to fill you with potent seed. He doesn’t exactly caress you, no: he gobbles you like your body is an entire feast, the generous kisses almost turning into bites when he reaches your hips.
“No–no teeth, König,” you try to whimper, somewhere on the borderline of tension and lust.
"Fee... I promise I'll fuck you like king. I'll fuck you until you cry.”
Your head goes blank from his words; from terror and love and lust. There's no time to decipher whether you should be afraid, because he scoops up your thighs, grabs you like a wrestling partner, and draws you against his face.
“Wait—What are you–”
Your words are cut off as he drives his nose up your cunt and breathes in your musk like it's divine incense. It doesn’t matter that you’re still covered by the skimpy dress he just ripped to shreds: the fabric is so thin that he could be virtually sniffing you through sheer gossamer. 
There’s no escape now; he can feel how wet you are. He can practically taste it.
“König—”
You can't understand why he would want to push his face there, so you mewl and try to push him away – very weakly – but he’s immovable, glued to your scent down there, panting into your warm, wet cunt with harsh breaths and starved groans. You're lying there at his mercy, dress torn to pieces and breasts heaving, thighs spread as far as they can go.
It's futile to even try reason with a starved giant between your legs, a cunt-deprived warrior about to finally take what's his. You should've known better than to joke around and play with a man who could snap you in half – either with his hands or with his cock – and Mother was wrong: you're not smart at all, teasing a beast like this. A beast whose teeth are currently bared over your most vulnerable place protected only by a thin veil soaked with your wet. 
König lashes his tongue out and presses it flat against your dress, on your throbbing womanhood, and your words turn into an ample, lewd moan.
“A–ah…”
You fall weakly back on the bed, head spinning although you haven’t drunk a drop of wine. The broad body almost trembles there between your legs. 
“Ah… You want cock, ja? I can taste it,” he grunts, blunt as ever. The thought of that thing being bullied into you inch by thick inch makes your cunt clench tight. Gods, you want it, but it will never fit, never…
Unless he… Unless that's why he's down there, panting hot inside you, trying to coax you open with his mouth. Perhaps he's not that dumb after all...
“Please,” you beg for him to love you, taste you, take you, your pride melting into copper and gold, pooling somewhere down, down, down… 
“Don't worry,” he speaks straight to your cunt like a man intoxicated with something far better than wine. “I will give you cock. All night.”
He lifts the dress with his nose like a dog, nuzzles under your ruined attire like it's his shelter for the night, headed back towards his plump prize. There will soon be nothing between his mouth and your poor, throbbing cunt, aching to be licked and loved by a cruel giant. A giant who brings you milk and honey and grapes and gold in all its forms… 
But just when you have finally forgotten that beasts possess teeth, he sinks them into you. He sinks them into your inner thigh, waking you up from the dream with sharp, harrowing pain.
The fucking idiot actually bites you, hard.
“You fucking—Go to hell!”
You push him away in earnest now, using his shoulders to propel yourself away from him. His teeth threaten to pierce and tear skin because he's so reluctant to let go, and the horrors of the battlefield seep into your skin; the safe warmth of the womb turns into a suffocating darkness. 
Your kicks have enough power to make him rise from between your legs, and the clear-cut pain in his eyes makes you want to both hug and hit him. You do the latter and hurl your fists at him, not bothering to even try to hit a target or cause pain; you just want him to stop making you afraid. 
Of course, he takes your breathless state and lust-filled rage as a cue to leave – and he does precisely that, but not before he has struggled away from you and your fists in an overly dramatic manner. It would look funny in another situation, especially when he's as hard as ever, cock jutting high towards the sky just from having a little taste of your love. Drunken and slightly wobbly, he almost falls when he grabs the tunic from the earthen floor as if his tent is a site of execution where he will soon be stoned. 
At the mouth of the tent, he stops, throws his head back, and roars. The guttural, booming rage echoes towards the gods like a furious curse, and you’re quite sure that the entire camp is awake by now. Every soldier nearby must be dying of a scared heart, thinking that there are either bears or Gauls upon them.
You hold your arms against your chest and safeguard your soft belly as you take in all his fury and frustration, then watch him stagger into the night, head hanging heavy between slumped shoulders. You’re left breathing, afraid and alone in the darkness, thinking about what the hell just happened… And spend the next moments in shock. Soon enough, the cold and terror fades, melting into something more palatable. You're shivering and wet, but intact, at least on the outside.
And the oddest thing is that you find yourself missing him. You miss his presence, his body, you miss his dumbness and his jokes. You fucking miss him.
The man who almost raped you.
With his… mouth.
You curl inside the furs and try to get some sleep with a hammering heart, ending up thinking about him all night. You thought he was going to pound you with that ridiculously long cock all night – and wasn't that his threat, too? – but what you didn't expect was that the giant barbarian who rips people's throats open with his teeth would want to lick and lap you into submission. You never would have thought that König wanted to bury his face between your legs, and eagerly at that.
Perhaps you understood his silly words wrong in your half aroused, half scared state. What if he meant to make you scream and cry from pleasure, not pain?
The burning bruise on your thigh reminds you that you are probably wrong, but you still wake every now and then from a thin sleep, glancing around you in despair, only to see that he’s not there. You feel so hollow that you think for a moment whether König has left the camp entirely, whether he is wandering away, towards some other adventure, exhausted with you and the war and the Romans.
The most unbearable thought in your head is not that he has left you for his dogs, however. It’s the thought that has abandoned you. That he has finally had enough. Because you realize… König hasn’t gone anywhere. He simply left to have his fun with some other woman. Perhaps he’ll be back in the morning, but his patience is gone; it has finally ended, your silly little game. A difficult slave girl who won’t even let him lick her cunt is simply no amusement to him anymore. 
Just before dawn, your will breaks; it splits in half. You can almost hear it. The sound of cries is muffled in the bed that nowadays has both his scent and yours: both of your scents combined, mixing together into a wonderful haze of love and despair.
König comes back when the dawn is already turning into a full day.
He strolls into the tent the same way he left: with a hunched posture and unsteady feet, but the fervent vigour from last night is gone. Actually, you have never seen him so weak. The dramatic sighs, the groping and the bullying have turned into a piercing silence. His muscles have lost their strength, his head is hanging heavy between those once proud shoulders, and his eyes are cast down as if he’s hoping there wouldn’t be such a bright orb in the sky. He drags his feet as he enters the tent; he doesn’t even look your way when he goes and slumps in his chair.
You are so glad to see him that you nearly jump from the bed and fall right there at his feet. You want to kiss his thighs and grab his hands and look up at him, doting and adoring like a good little slave. You want to whimper and beg that he can give you love bites everywhere he wants.
Instead, you snap at him, voice filled with poison.
“Did you have fun raping women last night?”
There are leaves on his mask and dirt on his shins and knees. Even his hands are a little grungy, and the proud red Roman tunic could also use a wash. He sheds you a tired side stare, then sighs.
“Was?”
“Were you with women,” you spell out every word slowly like you’re talking to a child. The venom on your tongue threatens to spill out as froth. And you almost say, 'other women'. Almost.
König raises his head and looks at you with a slight tilt in his head. He’s curious again, so, so very curious. He has clearly fleed the sun into his tent rather than seek your gracious presence, which shouldn’t make you this glum... But what you just said has managed to brighten up his entire day.
“Meine Fee… She’s jealous,” he points out in a far more jovial tone.
“No. Not at all,” you hurry to say, chin drawing back from his stupid accusations. 
“You are,” he says with unbridled fascination. 
“I assure you I’m not.”
Your cheeks are heating up, and the nervousness inside your belly roils like a snake. How does he always manage to get you into a trap? 
König leans back in his chair, now with his usual dignity on those shoulders. He even crosses his fingers loosely in his lap, looking like the conversation he’s about to have with you will, yet again, become another favourite of his. You’re not sure why you always feel like you’re being interrogated on the sly with him because König is the most simple, straightforward, blunt object of a man you have ever met. And still…
“Fucking other women is bad?” He asks innocently from that chair.
“Bad?” You huff. “Yes, if you have to force women under you, you are a brute.”
“And… ugly?”
“Very ugly. The ugliest man in the world.”
"Hm. But who say anything about forcing?"
König looks at you, calmly, as your stomach sinks from his words.
You can only stare at him as the world seems to fall apart around you, crumble into nothingness when there's sun shining and birds singing outside. Kicking him out of the tent – and almost kicking him in the face in the process – because you got afraid when he gave you a fervent little nib seems like the stupidest idea right now. If you were so willing to part your legs for him and moan under his tongue, surely some other insane woman would want to do that as well? Surely there is at least one woman in this camp who would gladly be pleased by this giant who doesn't hit or force women. Who only likes to… bite and squeeze and lick them.
You pout at him, lip almost trembling now, and he’s smiling, so, so very wide behind that mask. Gods damn him. 
Then he rises and walks to you, suddenly looking like he isn’t suffering from a hangover after all. He strolls towards you with slow purpose, and you swallow the tears down, trying not to show him how they turn into ice inside your stomach. 
“I have not touched women. Only you.”
He towers above you, looking down at you like you are indeed the most adorable thing in the entire world. You are not sure whether his words are to be believed, but something inside you says that this man never lies. As dense and dumb as he is, he is the most trustworthy human being you will ever meet.
“Only sleep with earth last night,” he says and starts to caress your hair. He even weighs some of it in his hand before sweeping it over your shoulder. Like you are simply his precious, silly little wife who has been spoiled too much.
“It was a cold mistress,” he laments, overly dramatic again, like a poor actor in a tragic play. Your heart aches, badly – you swear König is the most annoying man you have ever met, the most insufferable and lovable. You wonder if he has spent his seed on the cold, hard ground too. Given it to the Great Mother, who is a cold lover sometimes indeed… But not as cold as you.
You wonder how crazy it is that you have the power to drive this giant into the cold night from his own tent. König has had to face his hangover by waking up to a chilly dawn. His hand is not as warm as usual, and you start to worry that he has caught the wrath of wind spirits outside, soon rendering him weak and feverish. His skin is not supposed to feel this cold, not when he’s almost always blazing.
“I know a plant that might help,” you say diplomatically. “With your… Head.”
He looks at you, more and more curious by every passing moment. You hope he doesn’t weigh in his mind whether you are trying to poison him when he is weak. But he’s not that clever, perhaps, because he only looks at you like you’re an entire sun now, and very unlike the one that is giving him a headache today. You turn away from his hand – but not too quickly. You’re only feeling shy. And a bit uncomfortable.
“You should eat something. And drink water, not wine.”
“You care about my head?”
Gods… His voice is so, so soft. He’s seeing past all your defences again, and there is nothing you can do about it. You want to curse him but can’t. You simply can’t. 
“Just… Eat some fruit, alright? And I need a kettle so that I can boil some water for the herbs.”
You rise from the bed and try to ignore his adoring stare. He doesn’t attempt to touch you again; he merely watches as you go about and eat a little something as if to show that when it is morning, people should have breakfast. Like you’re a mother trying to lead by example or a fussing young wife who is trying to help his husband. Your lips are a thin line as you search for grapes that aren’t too soft and a piece of bread that doesn’t yet have mould in it. You grab some figs: you know they are his favorite, and bring them to him to tell him you’re serious about him needing to eat.
And you feel silly. 
You can’t even look at him. You’re feeling so odd, so weak, so warm inside, and it’s not because you’re disgusted; hell, it’s the opposite of being disgusted….
“I have fallen in love with you,” König says as he accepts your humble offering of food. You freeze in the middle of setting them on his palms, held upwards as if content with whatever you give him, even if it’s only a piece of bread and a few figs. 
Gods. Mother… Don’t do this to me–
“That how you say it?”
You breathe in and out, calm, collected – you're not going to faint because some crazy giant thinks he's in love. Yes, that’s it… Everything’s alright. He’s just being silly again. He’s just playing his own little plays again. 
But when you look at him, there is no actor there, no silly play: he’s just… König. He returns your helpless, cornered stare with warm kindness, reminding you of something, of some Roman or Greek god… Apollo. Yes, that’s it. Laureled sun god Apollo, the one everyone loves so dearly, because he always drives fear and doubt and darkness away. He’s Apollo, even though he doesn’t even prefer a bow. 
And has the translator taught König the correct words? Has he memorized them so that he can say them to you when the time is right? Your lip starts to tremble, and you fight to not shudder a sigh. The old seer was wrong: this man will be your downfall.
“I’ll go get that plant,” you whisper, soft eyes wide and chest curled tight. 
“Nein,” he says cheerfully, full of life and hope again. “Not alone, little one.”
A/N: Please don't send me death threats. Remember, big bang bang next chapter! Huge!!
Translations:
Sehr schön - Very beautiful
Kleine Fee - Little fairy
Hungrig? - Hungry?
Ich könnte dich niemals verlassen - I could never leave you
Für dich - For you
Du machst mich verrückt - You drive me crazy
Göttin der Erde… Gib dich mir - Goddess of the Earth… Give yourself to me
Meine Königin... Ich werde dich sehr glücklich machen - My Queen... I will make you very happy
Was ist das? - What is that?
2K notes · View notes
artists-ally · 25 days
Text
{Confess Your Lust} Azriel x Reader
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You all can thank @riddlesb1tch for this. I have no regrets. It's just pure filth, but I know my whores like this 🥰 Rose this is all for you so you're the only one I care about liking it. Hope you all enjoy, title is from this song. highly suggest listening to while reading btw
Word Count: 4,682
Warnings: SMUT. Minor Dom/Sub concepts, bondage, degrading, teasing, orgasm delay/denial, overstimulation, Az is your pretty little good boy and you're gonna let him know ;)
Tagging: @riddlesb1tch @thelov3lybookworm @librafairy @needylilgal022 @bubybubsters @harrystylesfan2686 @justdreamstars @cyrygher @berryzxx @thehighladywrites @xaithings
Summary: Azriel requested a very special birthday present. And who were you to tell him no.
~~~~~~~
“Cassian, as long as I’ve known you, you’ve gotten me a dagger for my birthday.”
“Yup,” he grins. 
“You know it’ll never suffice to Truth Teller, right?”
“An Illyrian can hope,” Cassian sighs, a relaxed smile on his face. “I know they all go in a drawer at the bottom of your dresser.”
Azriel rolls his eyes, but thanks his brother anyway. He appreciates them, but they hold no candle to the pretty piece of steel sat on his thigh.
Mor had gifted him a new pair of boots and a matching belt to go with them. They were of sleek leather, polished so well he could see his distorted reflection in the curve of the toe. He might have to set them aside for a special occasion so he doesn’t ruin them with training and missions. 
Rhys and Feyre gifted him a custom made weapons display case. It had racks and shelves for all his favorites, as well as drawers for the ones Cassian constantly gifted. It was complete with a throwing pad on the side to practice different strikes as well as a sharpening stone. He’d never admit to anyone but himself, but it made the back of his throat string. 
Amren promised him a night out at Rita’s, and coming from her it was quite generous. 
Buy my gift… it was something to be shared between my mate and no one else. They didn’t need to know the secret behind the look in my eye. It was waiting at our newly constructed home, just like I promised. Just like he had asked. 
“That’s it from us, I don’t see another one here,” Cassian looked around the rubble of discarded bags and decorative paper, not finding any other boxes. “Did Yn already give you hers?”
“No,” I said, sipping my glass of wine. “It’s back at the house. But he already knows what it is.”
“He does?”
“He does?” Azriel furrowed his brows, clearly not remembering the conversation the two of us had several months ago. 
Azriel sauntered into the dining hall, hands fisted at his sides, wings tucked in close. “Can I talk to you?”
The sudden spring of worry in his eyes made me put down my book, following him to a nearby couch to sit on. 
“What’s up, my love?” I asked tenderly, locking a piece of hair behind his ear. 
“If I asked you to do something for me- to me… would you?” 
“I’m not sure I understand what you mean, Az,” I cocked my head to the side, getting a better look at his eyes. Those wicked shadows blocked some of his tan skin, so I gently nudged them out of the way.
“I umm- I was thinking that we might change some things up. I’ve had a lot of thoughts about these things and I want them. And I want to see if you could want them too.”
“Okay,” I nodded, waiting for a response.
“I want to try using some toys. On me.”
Well, that is not where I thought this was going to go at all. Utterly shocked, but not opposed to the idea, I asked him to elaborate. And by the Cauldron did he. He went into detail of what he wanted, why he wanted it, how he wanted it… it sounded like a dream come true. 
“I’m so happy you told me about this. Yes, I’d be more than happy to fulfill these fantasies with you,” I smiled eagerly. “I promise I’ll make it special for you. Just like you did for me.”
Azriel still didn’t seem to get it, so I flashed a mental image down the bond, watching his brows unfurrow and raise up his face. It was almost ridiculous how far they went up. Nobody else said anything as they watched the interaction. 
“Oh.”
“Oh… what? What did she get you?” Rhys prodded his brother, Azriel not breaking our eye contact. I just smirked, winking in his direction before turning back to the wine. Mor spared me a curious glance, but I gave away no details. The others didn’t need to know what happened behind those closed doors. 
“Just something to play with later,” Azriel swallowed, throat working down and then back up. Only I would be able to note the change in his scent. “Time for pastries?”
I giggled as he deflected the question and moved onto another topic. It was another hour or so before anyone made a move to leave, but as soon as Cassian rolled out, his hands were all over me. 
“Are you being serious?” His hands were cupping my cheeks, a desperate plea to his voice. 
“Of course, my shadow. Go on up, get yourself ready. I’ll be up in a little bit, okay? Send word when you’re ready,” I instruct, moving out of his reach to begin cleaning up some of the mess left behind from the small party. 
“Won’t you come do it for me?” His strong arms wrapped around me, the soft scent of his wings wafting in the air. “I could really use your help.”
“I thought you wanted me to take control?”
“I do, that’s why I-”
“Didn’t I give you an order?” 
“Y-Yes, I just wanted-”
“Then go. Don’t make me ask again, Azriel.” 
“Yes my lady,” he obediently replied. I watched him go up the stairs, shadows lingering behind before darting after him. Once I heard the door click softly shut, I continued my work around the living area and the kitchen. I didn’t have any desire to be cleaning, I just needed to build up some tension. For this to work as he wanted to, I needed to do the unpredictable. Which would be really fucking difficult since he is basically progammed to know every turn and corner. 
I threw out trash, packed dishes in the sink, scrubbed them clean and put them away. About five minutes ago he sent a shadow curling my way, enticing me up towards the play room. I ignored the urgency of the call, deciding I’ll go when I want to. And he’s just going to have to wait. 
Azriel isn’t the most patient creature in this world, that’s for damn sure. 
Making him wait this long would be torture. 
Precisely how I wanted it to be. 
Finally, after another ten-ish minutes of stalling, I make my way upstairs. Purposefully being as loud as I can without stomping up the stairs. My heels click gently across the hard stone. As I near the door, I am hit with a wave of arousal coming from the room. It’s thick and tastes devine on the back of my tongue.
The sight of him sitting in the chair, wings facing me, arms ready and waiting behind his back is a marvelous sight. I can’t help but smile. He looks so pretty. 
“I thought you forgot about me,” Azriel said, a smirk in his tone. “Is it time for my present yet?”
“So impatient, all of you Illyrians,” I snorted, rolling my eyes as I made my way to the wall in front of him. Hung up, there were various toys and playthings. All could be used for pleasure or pain, depending on the mood. “You’ll get it when I say you do. Give me your wrists.”
I held the bundle of rope between my palms, stalking back over to Azriel in his chair. As I pass around to where his hands are locked behind his back, I make sure to tell him he’s allowed to safeword if and whenever he needs to. 
“I know, my love, thank you. I know you’ll take care of me,” he smiles gently, offering his lips.
“You asked to be overwhelmed, so I’m not going to stop unless you give me the word. I want you begging me to stop, remember? You’ll sound so pathetic and pretty when you whimper,” I smiled sickly sweet, pecking his lips with my own. “Ready?”
He gave a firm nod, hazel eyes locking on my body as I pulled away.
Back at the wall, I open the drawer in the chest, finding those two boxes I hid away weeks ago. How he never found them, I’ll never know, but I’m so glad. One was a vibrating cuff. The other was a dildo. 
After taking them out of the box and sanitizing them, I left them there for Az to see, but not to use yet. No, I wanted the anticipation to do the work for me. Rather than giving him what he wanted, I made my way over to him and trailed my fingers around his frame. 
Every flick of my finger sent goosebumps slithering across his skin. Up his neck… down his arms. That sensitive place between his wings twitched as I trailed through it, delicately applying pressure on the muscle. 
“Fuck, baby you… you can’t tease me like that.”
“I think I can do whatever I want,” I replied. “You are tied up at my mercy, aren’t you?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Good boy,” I smiled, threading my fingers through his thick hair, latching onto his scalp. I pulled to the side, watching his body move with the force. His chest rose and fell, I could feel his heartbeat down the bond. Wicked. Powerful. Anticipating my next move. 
I slid into his lap, feeling just how much he needed me through his pants. I leaned just far enough away that he couldn't capture my mouth with his. He tried twice to kiss me, but each time I leaned away, a sick smile on my lips. 
Azriel scoffed, “I just wanted a kiss.”
“I know you do, but I didn’t give you permission, did I?” I mocked, leaning in closer and closer. “Your pleasure belongs to me tonight. I decide when you get what you’ve earned. And all you’ve done so far is complain that I haven’t given you anything. That’s not how good boys behave is it?”
I can see the fire in his eyes, those two sides of his personality fighting each other head on. This desire inside him to be taken care of, to be set free by my control versus that blistering need to be in control of everything. 
I’ll break him free with my bare hands if I have to. 
“Don’t be shy, my shadow. You can say it, it’s okay. No one can hear you besides me. Unless you want everyone to know just how much you need me.”
“I’ll behave,” he recites quickly. “Please.”
“Look at you, begging for it already,” I smirked, standing up from my place in his lap. He groans, cock clearly straining against the fabric covering his legs. 
I circle him. Like a predator to its prey. “You look so pretty tied up, my shadow.”
“When I asked you to play with me, I didn’t expect to be tortured.”
“Tortured?” I spun around to see his hazy eyes. “Oh, my sweet love, I haven’t even touched you yet and you’re already begging? Don’t be so pathetic, Azriel. You can take more, can’t you?” I nodded his head for him, fingers fisted in his hair. “Yes you can, good boy.”
I quickly walked around to see his pink cheeks, heated with humiliation. I had no intention of going easy on him the first time. 
In a swift motion, I sheathed the blade at his thigh, cutting away his pants, leaving him just in his undershorts. He gasped, eyes going wide as roughly pulled them down his hips. “Y-Yn what are you-”
“Quiet,” I demanded. 
Azriel shut his mouth, panting heavily as I fisted his cock in my hand. His head tipped back in pleasure, and I almost let myself enjoy it for a second before I ripped my hand away. Those fierce hazel eyes were back on mine in an instant, silently begging for more. He made a wounded sound when I walked away, grabbing the vibrating cuff from the dresser. 
“Let’s play a game, okay? I put this on, and you aren’t going to cum. If you take it like the good boy I know you are, then I’ll give you something else to play with. If you cum… well, you’re just not going to stop.”
Azriel looks genuinely afraid. Like I might break him if I go through with this. I’ve never wanted to break something so badly just to put it back together again. 
I kneel in front of him, spreading his knees apart. I can see the generous amount of gel he’s used to work himself open for later. His body is glowing, vibrating with tension. I spit on his dick, enjoying the sight of him flinching as it hits his hot skin. 
Being extra agonizing, I blow some cool air on his tip to really watch him jump. I giggle, sliding the cuff over his length. The pale blue color is a stark contrast to his bright red skin. There is a button near the bass to turn it on and to switch the intensity. The gentle purr of the toy comes to life with a quick tap, and Azriel damn near falls out of the chair.
“Relax,” I say, forcing his knees down. I looked up at him, chest unmoving as he held his breath. “Breath Azriel.”
“I- I can-can’t,” he chokes. “Fuck Yn, it’s too much.”
“It’s only on the first setting, you’ll get used to it. In thirty seconds I’m going to put it on the next setting,” I warn, watching the way his body quivers slightly. 
My mates eyes are slammed shut, teeth clenched together. His cock gently pulses with the vibe, slick trickling down his shaft in a steady stream. To be a little extra mean, I run my tongue up the length.
“Oh gods Yn…” he pleads, head tossed back. His chest is on display, perfectly cut muscles constricting with every breath. 
“You’re being so good, Azriel,” I praise, relishing in the way his body relaxes into the words. “Just a little longer.”
I stand, walking to the corner of the room to the closet. I quietly wheel out the next part of his surprise, setting them aside for when I need them. When I come back, I notice the sheen of sweat lining his chest and torso. It glimmers in the low light, catching at all the right angles. 
I stroke my hands up and down his shoulders, working the tense muscles. He relaxes into my body and I travel further. Over his chest, over his abs, down his thighs. When I reach his cock, I press the next button and turn up the intensity. 
Az growls. In a way I’ve never heard him before. He curls in on himself, kicking his feet against the floor. 
“Don’t act like you don’t love it, Azriel. I know you want to be my good boy and take your birthday present so well. You’re gonna take it until I tell you you’ve had enough.”
“It feels so good,” he moans. His thighs are shaking, his cock flushed almost purple. “M-More.”
“And now you’re begging for it? Gods, Az you are so easy for me. I’m sure if you'd found this before tonight, I would’ve caught you with it, huh? So fucking desperate.” I can’t help but tease him, he makes it so easy. And he is being so good for me, why not give him what he wants? “You asked for more, Azriel.”
I click it up another notch, watching the way it sends shock waves through the muscles in his thighs and abs. He’s open-mouth panting now, unable to take a breath without whining. He starts shaking his head back and forth, eyes blinking rapidly. 
“You’re not allowed to cum, Azriel. I didn’t give you permission.”
My reminder makes him sob. “Please, please Yn. Fucking please let me cum. Fuck I-I can’t- Yn I can’t-”
“You’re going to,” I demand, pushing the hair out of his face. “Because I told you to. You wanna make me happy, right? I won’t be happy if you cum. You don’t wanna disappoint me, do you?”
He shakes his head no rapidly, sweat dripping down his face. 
“Then don’t cum. It’s not that hard.”
Azriel cries out, the noise coming deep within his chest. He tries to cross his legs to relieve the pressure, but I force them to stay open. He shakes and writhes, wings slanted behind his back in a mess of shadows. He cannot sit still, but I don’t reprimand him for it. 
The room is filled with the sound of his harsh breathing and the hum of the vibrator. It’s filled with the scent of his sweat and breath. 
“Yn- Yn turn it off.”
“No.”
He curses, a colorful menagerie falling from his wet lips. “Please please please please please please.”
The sound of him begging, truly begging, makes me grin in a sinister way. This is exactly how I wanted him. A whimpering, desperate mess for me to play with. 
I turn it off. 
Azriel blows out a breath, body still writhing. His cock stands tall, a deep shade of maroon. I know one flick of my tongue would send him over the edge. And having that kind of power over him feels incredible. 
After letting him rest for a second, I decide it’s time for some real fun. I pluck the dildo off the dresser and stand in front of Azriel, waiting for him to look up at me. When those hazel eyes meet mine, they’re glassy and full of pleasure. Almost too much. He looks drunk with his cheeks so rosy and ears flaming red. He looks so adorable all fucked out like this. 
“Stand,” I commanded, watching the words register on his face. 
His knees tremble, but he manages, stretching his taught legs. The sight of him shaking so vividly would normally scare me. But right now it's… it's beautiful. I made him this way, and this ache between my legs couldn't be stronger. 
The cup on the end suctions to the metal chair when I place the dildo down. “Sit.”
“Yn-”
“Sit,” I snapped, eyes hardening. Azriel swallowed, looking from me to the chair and back. “Don’t make me ask again. I told you to sit. So sit down. Now.”
He turned back around, standing above the chair. Slowly, incredibly slowly, he lowered himself to the chair. His arms were bulging against the ropes, veins running along his biceps throbbing with his pulse. But he sits. All the way down. 
With a proud smile, I drink in the way he sits. It's so rigid. His chest barely moves with his quick breaths. His eyes are screwed shut. 
“Azriel,” I taunt, my voice sickly sweet. “What's got you breathing so hard, hmm? Are you in too much pleasure? Does it feel too good?”
His mouth gapes open, but he doesn’t say anything. 
“You’re at a loss for words with how good you feel. So fucking pathetic, completely fucked out the first time you’re taking a toy?” I click on the vibrator again, starting at level two. He thrashes, then grunts, tossing his head back. “You can take it. You’ve been such a good boy. You’ve been pleasing me so much, Azriel, did you know that? You’re making me so happy. Keep being a good boy and I’ll let you cum.”
“Yn…” he breathed, head falling back to meet my eyes.
“What do you need, my shadow? More? You want more?” He shakes his head no, but remains silent. “You can do better than a pitiful shake of your head. Tell me what you want, Azriel.”
“Yn… Yn…” he chants, my name a plea of desperation. It's airy and full of need. 
“That’s it, baby. Tell me what you need, I promise I’ll give it to you.”
With bleary eyes, he looks at me. “Please let me cum.” 
The words are broken and a little slurred, but he told me what he needed. So I’ll give it to him. 
“Such a good boy, Azriel. Telling me how much you need to cum. I’ll make sure you do, baby. Just keep taking it for me. You’re doing soooo good.”
I kept talking to him, praising him for how good he’s taking everything I’ve given him. Azriel is babbling and pleading like a total whore. While he drones on and on, I wheel out the surprise I set in the corner. Three long, vertical mirrors are set around him so he can see every angle of his perfect body. 
So he can watch himself come undone without me even touching him. 
“Azriel, look at me baby,” I commanded. He settles his gaze on me, then the mirrors. “Don’t you think you look so pretty?”
The way his body slumps in the chair sent chills down my spine. He spread his legs, admitting the cuff constricting his cock. Azriel pushes on his toes lightly, bobbing up and down on the dildo. “Fuck I- Yn I look so…so-”
“I want you to keep your eyes locked on the mirror. Don’t look at anything but yourself. This is all for you, take it all in, my shadow. Enjoy watching yourself fall apart for me.”
Azriel nodded. 
I circled him slowly, amused at how… delicate he looked despite the harsh reality of his current fate. He was tied up, more vulnerable than ever. And yet he looked so sweet and simple. And devastatingly ruined. 
At the first touch to the leathery material of his wings, Azriel jumped. He shouted and swore. 
“Relax, Azriel.”
“I can’t handle it when you touch my wings, Yn. I’m not gonna be able to hold on,” Az pleads. I touch him again in the same spot. He shudders and grits his teeth. “Yn please.”
“Eyes on yourself, Azriel.”
With a deep, controlled breath, he pulls his eyes back to the mirrors. As I touch and explore the most sensitive parts of him, he twitches in every direction, effectively screwing himself further on the dildo. I take the curve of my nail and trace a vein running in his wing. Fibers in his muscles seize. 
In the mirror, I can see the cuff working nicely. His chest is coated in sweat and it takes all my strength to not run my tongue from the tip of his cock to the base of his throat. Instead, I continue to tease his wings. 
Azriel has this one specific spot right at the base of his wing that drives him insane. The moment I begin to move my hand, he begins to moan uncontrollably. He begs and whines and begs again for me to make him come. 
“Are you watching yourself, baby?” I ask, locking eyes with him in the mirror. When he nods, eyes cast down at his body, I stroke his wing. Twice. And tears spill down his face. 
“F-Fuck Yn I need to cum. I need to cum, fuck PLEASE let me cum please please please,” Azriel chants like I’m a long forgotten god. As if I would be able to grant all his wishes and desires. And it fills me with a fire I’ve never felt before. 
“You’ve been such a good boy, Azriel. Go ahead. You can cum, let go.” 
The second I gave him permission, he came. His whole body convulsed with the force. His legs and torso shivered, ecstasy pouring out of him with every whine and curse. 
“Fuuuucccckkkkk,” he mewls, watching his cum slide down his cock, spreading over his thighs. The cuff keeps vibrating, drawing out his pleasure. “Turn it off turn it off turn it off-”
“Don’t you wanna see how far you can go? You look so pretty when you cum, I could keep watching you forever, my dear. Why don’t you do it again, okay? You’ve earned it, go ahead and cum for me, just once more.”
His whole body is flush, the same beautiful color as his aching cock. He strains against the ropes and for a minute I think he’s going to break free. But he falls slack, a steady wave of whimpers as the cuff continues to drain him. The flow of it never stops. 
After a few more seconds to enjoy the show for myself, I turn off the vibrator. I gently slide it off, the majority of his seed landing on my fingers. I make a bog show of licking it off for him. 
Azriel is lost in his mind somewhere when I begin to undo the ropes. I massage his shoulders, working blood back into his extremities. 
“You did such an amazing job, my love. I am so proud of you, I hope you had as good of a time as I did.”
Azriel stayed quiet, but he nodded his head, gulping down air. He was shaking, but judging by the way the bond felt, he felt nothing but euphoria. I had done exactly what I was asked, and he loved it. 
While I kneaded his shoulders, kissing up and down his back, he recovered. While I was strong, I wasn’t strong enough to lift a fully grown Illyrian warrior and carry him to the bathroom. Currently, he’s in no condition to move under his own volition, so we’ll take our time until his strength is restored. 
“I love you so much, Az. My beautiful, strong mate. You did such a good job, such a good boy for me.”
“Mmm,” he hummed, a lazy smile on his lips. “Love being your good boy.”
“You are, you did so fucking good Azriel. It was so hot watching you cum like that,” I smiled, kissing his forehead, then his lips when he pursed them to me. “Feeling good enough to get to the bathroom? The tub is waiting, ready for you.”
My mate nodded, “Only if you’ll come in with me.”
Giggling, I slung his arm over my shoulder. “Of course I will. Stand up slowly, take your time. I’ve got you.”
With a few hisses as he stood up off the chair, wings splaying out to help him keep his balance, I guided him to the bathroom. He could stand just… not super well. We stumbled, but made it to the tub in one piece. I left him to climb in as I stripped, adding some salts to the bath. 
“I don’t care about that, just get in, my love.”
Illyrians, not known for their extended patience, but they are known for their incredible brutality and bravery.
As well as their wingspans. 
Before he could yank me in with my clothes on, I swept them away with a flick of my hand and climbed in. Azriel guided me to sit in his lap, face to face. His warm, scar-flecked hands caressed my body. It wasn’t in a particularly sexual manner, but I was far too turned on to not let a whimper slip. But he didn’t smirk or crack a teasing joke, he just continued to roam my body. 
It seemed to calm him, the edges of ecstasy fading away from the bond one strand at a time. His heart rate slowed and that glaze over his eyes faded away. 
“Feeling okay?” I asked, stroking my hands up and around the tattoos on his shoulders and chest. 
“Mhmm,” he nodded. “Just… wow. My body feels so tingly.”
“Now you know how I feel when you make me cum multiple times.”
Azriel smiled, sending my heart tumbling in my chest. “Guess I should be a bit more gracious with you, shouldn’t I? Considering now you have what you need to retaliate.”
“I think you’d like it if I retaliated,” I grin. “I’m glad you had a good time.”
“Good time? I’ve never felt so satisfied in my whole life. Thank you for giving me that experience.”
I smiled so wide it hurt. “Of course, my shadow. But the next time you want to have a ‘new experience’, don’t hesitate to wait so long to tell me.”
“I promise,” Azriel whispers, cupping both sides of my face with his hands. Our foreheads lean in together. “I love you.”
“I love you more.”
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gremlingottoosilly · 2 months
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That Unwanted Animal [COD Fantasy AU] CursedKnight!Ghost x fem!Reader
Ghost was cursed ever since his king helped him get back to life from his grave. A stench of death, strong and inescapable, renders him unable to find a woman who will be willing to bed him. What will happen when he finally finds a perfect mate? CW and Tags: Dub-con, power imbalance, Medieval Fantasy AU, knight!Ghost, servant!Reader, sex work, brothels, dub-con kissing and touching, obsessive Ghost, dark Ghost, basically Ghost finds a girl and forces her to be his, Ghost is a half-dead resurrected knight, soft reader, submissive Reader.
AO3 Word Count: 2426 Ch.1
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The Knight is a weird one. 
He is looking at you – studying you with his eyes, ever prying, even seeing. He never blinks and you think he doesn’t need it – a walking corpse wouldn’t care to keep his eyes wet, to let his head down and take a few deep breaths to relieve himself. Then, again, a real walking corpse wouldn’t need a maiden to claim and take, a warm body to bring relief to his manhood. You wouldn’t be so sure that he is a walking corpse, a resurrected warrior – the legends are often false, after all, and wild guesses of prostitutes are not to be trusted. 
Not like you would know either way – the only path to reveal his not-death is to smell the rot from his skin and, well, it’s out of your reach. The sickness of a few years ago rendered you completely unable to smell anything – you aren’t sure if it’s a blessing in disguise now. Ghost – his name, you think, you heard, the whispers and gossip from the girls who worked alongside you – have been watching you sleep the whole night after he claimed you for the first time. You know because, well, you were watching him too, unable to fall asleep. Not with the gaze that made your blood freeze in your veins. Not with the knowledge that this man can just suck the life out of you, like he did with many of his enemies. You don’t know about this fact, of course – but you don’t want to come and try if the gossips are true. You feel sore, down there. It should be normal for a woman who works in a place like this – but you weren’t a prostitute. Never got interest from men who will pay a lot for a night with a beautiful woman, you were content with simply serving the patrons and the highest bidding girls. Turns out, the sex is…weird. Wet. Painful, but not quite. The Knight was generous in his offers, even as you tried to convince him you didn’t deserve any of it. That you were here just to serve tea, not to… “Lay still, luv. Do you not know what to do?” He pushed a pillow under your hips, making your back arch like a cat in heat. You were presented to him – involuntarily, with his large hands crowding your waist and putting you right where he wanted. Your legs spread and your womanhood glossy from arousal – you knew your fair share of what it comes when a man and a woman share the bed, but you never managed to get into it. To get a man to put something in you, that it. You felt foolish ever coming to the room he rented all for himself. For not running away the second you were put here like a lamb to the slaughter. “I’m not a c…courtesan, kind sir, this is all a…” He pushed his mouth on yours – his mask lifted just barely to let you see the light stubble and scars on his broad, chiseled jaw – before you even managed to finish. His tongue went all out, licking and sucking, making you whimper in the kiss that wasn’t your first, but surely took the crown of being the most memorable one. Surely, cursed knights had no idea about common courtesy. “Good. Wouldn’t hear jabs from Johnny then.” You don’t know who that was but, for some reason, you felt like a dog suddenly brushed against your hand. Perhaps, the lack of air from the steamy kisses made you delirious” But, it was before. Now, with his head propped on one of his hands as he was lying on his side, observing you quietly, like a predator in hiding. His other hand is caressing your shoulder, sometimes going further to play with your hair – surely, he didn’t care for the possibility of waking you up. Maybe, he knows you aren’t sleeping. Maybe, he got his fill and would let you go now. — You need to sleep. The road to my estate is a long one. You drop your act immediately, knowing it is pointless. Perhaps, you should have tried to be an actor instead of a brothel servant – would give you much more useful skills. — Your estate..? Maybe, he was so impressed with your tea-making skills, that he would invite you to be his maid. You may have lost your virtue, but it’s not like you’re interested in marriage anyway. You can live a quiet life, not dealing with anything too harsh, while receiving a nice salary working for the knight. Honorable job, stable job. Something that you should strive for. — You aren’t a courtesan. It sounded like a statement – and besides, you were telling him this before. There is no way he could have mistaken your common, grey clothing with rich gowns that expensive courtesans are wearing. Your manners are off too – the man would have to be blind, deaf and stupid to think that they would send you to him as a girl for entertainment, not servitude. — I’m not, sir. 
— Do you have family? 
— Do you? He laughs at your unexpected bravery. You close your eyes, expecting something – a kick in the face, perhaps, as many nobles love to do with servants who aren’t polite enough. Maybe, you wait for him to denounce you and finally leave you alone. Maybe, you wait for everything to just be a dream, a beautiful one with steamy scenes straight up from the romantic novels you sneaked out to read. But Ghost is as real as a bed you are sitting on. His hands are on your face, but not in a way you’d come to expect from a man of his position. He is caressing your skin, playing with hair that fell out on your cheeks – and you swear you can see his eyes crinkle with a smile when you struggle to maintain eye contact, your head suddenly feeling heavy and sleepy. Perhaps, the night activities did wear you off. Not enough to make you lower your guars though. — Yes, luv. You’re going to be a part of it. He sounds…sad. Broken, almost. You try to remember all of the rumors you heard about the undead knight, but the only thing you’re capable of thinking about is his resurrection – surely, it would mean he doesn’t have a living family anymore, right? For some bizarre, incredibly weird reason, you reach out for his hand. Not with your palm, too exhausted to actually lift it – but with your face, tilting your head to the side as you press your forehead against his hand in a cat-like manner. His fingers get lost in playing with your hair immediately, and you fight the desire to purr. What a weird sequence of events he brought upon you. He pats your head for a few minutes, allowing you two to sit in silence. You quite like it. — You can’t marry a commoner. 
— This isn’t a position for your opinion, doll. — But the madam… — Your madam can push your debt up her snobby arse. I would be bloody glad to end this whole place in a fire. You laugh involuntarily. Surely, he means it – just one look at his eyes reveals a man deeply wounded by the fact, that not even the amount of money he has or the status he holds as the greatest knight of the kingdom will but him affection. Some things cannot be done even for money – and not a single woman in the brothel would lower herself to sleeping with a walking corpse, resurrected by the most evil power in the continent. It’s a good thing you can’t sense the stench of death – and to you, Ghost is just a man. A man with big hands, cold body, and little crinkles in his eyes when he looks at you, so weak and whimpering. A man with money and power, who can get you away from this place. Surely, changing one cage for the other won’t make much of a difference – but you can trade freedom for comfort, especially when the alternative neither brings your freedom nor comfort. There isn’t a single woman who would change her place with you. You find solace in that. 
— You can’t just take me away. All of my life is here. — Bloody shitty life you got ‘ere. You will be better off with me. 
— As your conqubine? 
— As my wife. 
Oh. You can’t exactly argue with this proposal. *** He rides you on his horse for the whole day – and it isn’t at all romantic as you thought it would be based on the books. No one has ever written just how smelly horses are – how scary of a creature riders are mounting, and how hard it is to sit on your ass for a whole day. For some reason, you were expecting a carriage – but a lone knight wouldn’t be traveling with an escort, you think. No matter how much of an influence he has over this country. 
You were thinking about running away for a few times – when he was making stops to let the horse rest and would slip you on the ground, allowing your agonizing limbs to stretch out a bit. You could escape easily when he got distracted with something – but then you thought about forests, bandits, and the trajectory that your life has taken. You may not like being a pried possession of a dead man, but he by far isn’t the cruelest one out here. Many other patrons of the whore house are much, much worse. 
He slips you on his lap when you finally get to a place where you can eat and sleep in peace – his mansion is as big as they come, you think, but the desire to explore is cut short by his hands on your hips. Reminding you of your place like you didn’t already get it the first time. You stir in your place, uncomfortable when he is pushing you down on his throbbing erection – how this could even ride a horse if the only thing on his mind was your soft body pressed against his, your helpless form clinging to him like he was the only protector here. 
Ghost is supposed to be on the good side – not an Empire soldier, at the very least, he isn’t taking crying innocent trophies from the battlefield and throwing them in his harem. He doesn’t even have a bloody harem, all the women – and men alike – disgusted by the stench of death he cannot wash away no matter the hours he spends in the bath. But you, pretty maiden waiting for him at this brothel of yours, aren’t like others. Maybe it’s a blessing – maybe the gods finally answered all of his threats and sent him the prettiest angel they had. 
No matter, he is still going to make sure to use you properly. Slowly, Ghost picks up food and feeds you – and if he can judge, you aren’t exactly enjoying the feeling of his fingers in your mouth. Probing, touching – you whimper when he pushes a piece of fruit past your lips. Poor thing, he thinks – you need to learn how to treat him with respect. With love, even more, as he wants for you to like him no matter how hard it could be for a dumb little you. — You shouldn’t feed me like this, sir. You’re so polite, so king – the first time a maiden was king to someone like him. The first time a girl isn’t screaming in his hold, trashing, and crying as she feels his hands roaming up her body. Gods, you’re perfect – he can’t wait to introduce you, finally shutting Soap for good. Finally getting something good for himself, after all the years of pure shit. Just wait – he can make an honest woman out of you. Give you estate, money, give you his status and the treatment of a royalty. If Price would feel generous, you’d be a duchess in no time. And, oh he knows, Price will be generous. 
— Why not? 
Just one look at your open mouth, glossy from drool, at your trembling lips, made him harder than before. He was denied mortal pleasures for so long, he forgot how soft women are – how pretty they look while sitting on his lap. No woman would approach him after the damn Emperor decided to resurrect him – but you don’t have a choice on the matter. But you don’t behave like you want to run away, at least. He wants to think that you will like it here – not because he truly cares about your opinion, but because you’d become sweeter. — It would be a waste. I can’t taste much of anything. 
Ah. The lack of smell – he remembers. Poor girl, he thinks, not only did you spend your life serving the courtesans and patrons at the brothel, but you also did so without taking any pleasure in nice fragrances or tasty food. Such a miserable girl – tough luck that you ended up with him, where he physically cannot feel pity for you. 
— Hm. There is a downside to your affliction.
— Many people would consider the lack of smell itself a downside. — Not me. You’re perfect. No one has even told you you’re perfect. Not like this, at least. You see a jaded soldier sitting you on his lap, his hands are holding the fat of your hips and kneading it like dough, but his eyes are…warm. Not kind, not gentle, but with the level of obsession that you never thought you’d see in this day and age. You press your head against his chest in a pure instinct – not wanting to be too harsh on your new husband. Not even daring to act like a spoiled brat, even though you were never one to begin with. 
He is a lonely man, you know. Angry and cynical, killed more people than you ever known for your whole life – but it all seems so distant, so unreal now. The killings and the wars and resurrections are something from the children’s books. From dark romance novels that you were reading, not from reality. Reality is that you’re sitting on the lap of a man who took you from working in the worst place you could have. Reality is, that you’re sitting on the lap of a very sad, tortured man who might need something nice. Who might give you something nice in return. 
Hm. 
You might like the sound of that. 
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fangirl-dot-com · 3 months
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Carlos Sainz - You don’t like spicy food?! Then why the heck do they call you Chili? 
Aw guys imma cryyyy – this is the last part of Besties for the Resties. I have enjoyed every single moment of writing these. Sorry if the last few ones were short, I’ve been using all of my brain power for finals and for the Christmas chapter! That one is going to be a doozy and I’m hoping it’ll hit almost 10k words: because y’all deserve some good writing! 
I honestly don’t know when this story is set. I have tried to write all of these for races before the summer break. So that being said, on my master list I am not writing a chapter for the Barca Grand Prix – so this chapter will be during that time! 
For one last time for this series – I hope you all enjoy! 
[TAG LIST IS CLOSED] 
Remember that comments, questions, concerns, reblogs, and likes are all appreciated! 
The sun beat down on the top of your head as you lounged and napped in the hotel pool. The Spanish Grand Prix was right around the corner, but you had time to relax and get your tan on. The water lapped at your limbs, cooling you off as the sun felt as though it was getting hotter. 
Kelly had told you time and time again to put on sunscreen so that you wouldn’t burn. You definitely did not want to drive a Formula 1 car with sunburn. At least you weren’t as fair as Max was. You thought that he was a vampire or something. His skin automatically turned pink if he was outside too long. You guessed that’s why he always wore his Red Bull Cap. 
Quiet splashes sounded at the opposite end where you knew Kelly and Penelope were playing. It was nice to hear their giggles as they tossed a beach ball around. To your left, however, you could hear the men talking about the cars and whatever part made more downforce, which was close to bringing you out of your light sleep. 
Apparently when booking the hotels, Red Bull and Ferrari had decided to get rooms at the same place. Which led to you, Penelope, Kelly, and Max finding Carlos and Charles already at the pool. You were glad that they were pretty good friends, because if it had been Esteban, well, you shivered at what might have happened. 
You were a bit bummed that the other drivers’ hotels were much farther away. Because you would have asked Lando, Oscar, and George to come over as well. You had already asked Daniel, hoping that Alpha Tauri would have placed him with you and Max. But sadly, he had his own hotel where he was staying with Heidi. Which made sense, if your significant other was here, you’d want to stay with him too. 
You tried to block out any conversations about the cars, but they were getting too loud. You sat up on your floaty as you looked around. Your eyes adjusted to the bright light after having been closed for a while. 
“Good morning,” Max laughed as he looked at your discombobulated appearance. 
You groaned as you sunk into the water, cooling off the rest of your body. The three of them just laughed as you swam over to the stairs. Pulling yourself up, you stepped onto the warm tile and made your way over to where they were sitting. You took the offered towel from Charles and wrapped it around your shoulders. 
“How are you not burnt?” Max questioned, shocked at your skin that was void of any redness. 
Your shoulders raised before dropping, “Genes? Also you woke me up. Do you have to be talking about the upgrades.” You grumbled, sunglasses hiding your closed eyes as your head tipped back. 
A scoff left his lips, brows furrowed under his bucket hat. “You needed to wake up anyway. You’re going to ruin your sleep schedule.” 
“More than it’s already ruined,” Charles pipped, looking at the shared laptop on the table. 
You turned your head and looked at Max, “Can we order food and drinks or something?” 
Max nodded, getting his phone out. You told him what you wanted, but were interrupted with a scoff from Carlos. Max turned, looking a bit annoyed. 
“Everything all right mate?” Charles asked, trying to diffuse the situation. What the three of you didn’t see was Carlos looking at the menu on his phone. 
His eyes widened as he realized what he had done. He quickly held up his phone. “I was scoffing at the menu. Everything seems too spicy.” Max melted back into his chair, but you were completely confused. 
“You don’t like spicy food? Then why the heck do they call you Chili?” Max and Charles laughed at your question. “What? I’m just super confused.” 
Carlos let out a laugh of his own. “No chica. A fan gave me a hat that had chili peppers on it. I guess it just stuck. Kind of like your name.” 
You crossed your arms. “It’s my manager’s fault. He’s the one that started calling me kid in the first place. Then Christian somehow found how, then Max, then my strategist, and now everyone calls me that.” 
Charles pondered for a moment before speaking, “And why is that?” 
You pouted, “Cause in Formula 4 I was the shortest there, and Vito said I looked like a kindergartener who snuck into the middle schooler’s field trip.” 
The three men started to laugh while you continued to pout. 
“It’s really not that funny,” you pouted. “So why are we talking about upgrades? We’re supposed to be enjoying this relaxing time.” You leaned back into your chair, closing your eyes once again. 
Charles started, “Well, on our cars they seem to be doing much better this year with pace, but it’s still not as fast as we’d like it to be.” 
You hummed, thinking about what it could be. “It could just be the balance distribution on the corners and such.” You leaned forward again, now hunched over as you looked at the laptop. Your head jutted toward Max. “How much are we allowed to help.” 
“As long as we don’t talk about specifics of the car, then we have free range, oh – thank you,” Max was replying but got cut off by a waiter with the food that was ordered. 
Drinks were passed around as well as lunches. You quickly grabbed one of your tacos and bit into it. The juices ran down your mouth as you tried to wipe it away. A towel was quickly thrust in your direction. You nodded in a thanks as you swallowed and wiped your chin. 
“So, does the car feel unbalanced in the corners?” you questioned to the two Ferrari drivers. 
“Non, the car feels good. Our pace is just not where we want it.”
You thought for a moment, “Then it might be the breaking or the overall strategy and tires. You two just need better strategists.” 
Carlos ran a hand down his face. “That is what we have been trying to tell them. But every years it’s ‘Oh, they will get better’ but then they don’t.” 
You nodded at this information, before taking another bite of your food. A thought popped into your head. 
“Could be the new design of your front wings,” you paused before adding, “or the gearbox.” 
“The gearbox,” Max said at the same time as you did. 
Charles snapped his fingers as his head turned towards his teammate. “That might be it.” 
You added, “If the gears don’t shift quickly or effectively, then you’re losing time in the laps instead of gaining. Especially when you downshift.” 
Carlos looked at you with amusement, “You really know your cars.” 
You shrugged as you took a drink of whatever fruity thing Max ordered you. “I thought about quitting F3 at one point to become an engineer for the cars.” 
Max cocked his head. “Why didn’t you though?” 
You smirked, “I kept winning.” Charles choked on his drink at your bluntness. “I also didn’t have enough money to go to school for a degree. Thought it would just be easier to continue.” 
Charles gave you a sad-ish smile. He knew what it was like to not have enough money to really pursue your dreams. Arthur knew that even more so. He was honestly glad that you didn’t give up or were forced to quit. Then Arthur wouldn’t have met you, he wouldn’t have met you, and so on. 
You brought him out of his thoughts, “Or the problem with your car might be just that you simply aren’t fast enough to catch us.” You shot the two rival drivers a wink before taking another sip. 
Max shot you a wide smile. “That might be it as well.” 
Carlos and Charles rolled their eyes, but both had a smile on their face. Once your food was finished, you stood up, making your way back to the pool. This time, it was Kelly and Penelope’s turn to get some food and drinks, and maybe a nap for P. 
You turned to the three before you got in. “Can someone play mermaids with me?” 
“No.”  
Y/n.89 has posted
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they wouldn't play mermaids with me
tagged: charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, and maxverstappen1
liked by arthur_leclerc, kellypiquet, and 95,204 others
landonorris if I was there, I would have played mermaids smh
y/n.89 its ok -Charles ended up playing with me and P charles_leclerc yeah, after you threatened ME
y/n-lover petition for Charles to play a mermaid in Barbie 2 if they make one
y/n.89 yes charles_leclerc NO
danielricciardo max got sunburned didn't he
kellypiquet yes y/n.89 that would be correct, lobster right now carlossainz55 he hasn't leaned back against his chair in 15 minutes
maxverstappen1 why does Charles get a good picture and I don't
y/n.89 CAUSE HE PLAYED MERMAIDS charles_leclerc yeah, I played mermaids - take that verstappen maxverstappen1 I will RUN YOU OFF THE TRACK christianhorner please do not
box_box_official this is just y/n's world and we're just living in it
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AND THAT'S A WRAP - I LOVE YOU ALL!! ON TO THE REGULAR SHOW
AN: This will be the last chapter until Christmas!!
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cantstoptheimagines · 6 months
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What We Do Below Deck (Monkey D. Luffy, Nami, Roronoa Zoro, Usopp, Vinsmoke Sanji | One Piece)
Series Masterlist
Summary — The Straw Hats like to use you to relieve their stress.
Warnings and Other Tags ➳ Smut (cursing; rough sex; degradation and praise; name-calling; spitting; slapping; fingering and anal fisting; oral (male and female receiving, deepthroating, face fucking); penetration (vaginal, anal, strap-on); double penetration (one vaginal and one anal, two in one hole, strap-on); mentions of breeding and pregnancy; mentions of sharing the Reader with others; way too much cum; Reader gets pinned down a few times; implied aftercare at the very end; probably missing a few more, but just know this fic is a lot lol); literally just a self-indulgent gangbang fic because every single one of the Straw Hats are too hot to handle.
Notes ➳ Word Count is 10,058. ➳ Reader uses feminine pronouns (she/her).
FAQ | Masterlist | Fandoms | Requests | Coming Soon | Schedule  
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How your whole agreement with the Straw Hats started, you weren’t entirely sure. You originally joined the crew with the expectation of helping your best friend become King of the Pirates.
Things changed when your ragtag bunch of friends successfully took down Arlong Park and returned to the Going Merry, each of them needing to relieve their stress. That was when five pairs of darkened, tired eyes found you anxiously waiting for them to return to the ship. An overwhelming sense of greed for your body seemingly took over their minds at that moment.
And that’s your best guess as to when their insatiable need for you began. Mostly because they’d all been fucking you senseless nearly every day since then.
In an instant, you had become the relief each of them had so desperately needed. You were released from all other duties on the ship, aside from being your crew mates’ favorite fuck toy, perfectly molded for their personal use whenever they felt the desire to play with your holes.
And so, when Luffy suddenly took your hand in his to lead you out of the hot sun and into his quarters, you knew what awaited.
It only took the Straw Hats mere seconds to strip you free of your clothing, push you on to your stomach atop the bed sheets, and shove your face into Nami’s wet cunt. She roughly palmed at your temples, tightly gripping you by the head in an effort to control your movements.
As your tongue was made to lap at her soaking entrance, someone else laid a series of harsh slaps to your bare ass, occasionally groping and spreading your cheeks just to make you squirm. Probably Zoro since he always wanted to be the first to pound your tightest hole.
“Oh, fuck,” moaned Nami, shaking your head from side to side to give herself a bit more stimulation. “I’ve been waiting all day for this. I’m soaked.”
She was right. Her arousal was all over your lips and chin. It had even started to slowly drip down your neck. One thing you had learned about Nami? She liked it messy.
You could practically see the grin on Sanji’s face as he asked, “Is our cumslut that good, Nami?”
“She’s perfect! Ah! So good at eating me out,” she moaned again. “She was made to be between my legs. I’m sure—! Oh! Ah! I’m sure of it!”
The way they spoke about you as though you weren’t even there sent chills down your spine. Right here, right now, you really are just something for them to fuck in their free time.
You must have slowed your actions, lost in thought, because Nami suddenly yanked roughly at your hair.
“Use your fingers, you little whore,” she glared. “Give my clit some attention too. You better make me cum tonight.”
You barely had time to acknowledge her demands before she was pressing your mouth even further into her dripping arousal. She was practically suffocating you with her thighs as she began rolling her hips. You quickly began massaging her clit as she let out yet another pleasured moan.
As your tongue delved into Nami’s entrance, someone else led your free hand to wrap around a thick, swollen cock. Usopp let out a curse as he began guiding your touch along his length.
“Stroke me, baby,” he said, watching you with lustful eyes as you followed his instructions. “I wanna cum on that pretty face. Then I’m gonna take a break. You still got me worn out from yesterday.”
“You did fuck her pussy a lot last night, didn’t you?” chuckled Luffy, one hand gliding over his own throbbing cock as he admired the scene in front of him.
“Yeah, after you finally stopped hogging it,” scoffed Usopp, removing your hand for a moment in order to spit onto your palm. “But once I got my chance, it was so good, man. I put my load inside her cunt three times. Not to mention when I got to fuck her mouth before that. Her throat made me cum twice. She was totally spaced out by the time I was done using her.”
Still grinding against your tongue, Nami groaned, “Would you two shut up—? Oh!”
Her complaints were interrupted by her orgasm. Her toes curled and her thighs clenched. You were practically drowning in her arousal, forcefully held in place by her strong grip on your hair.
Your face was drenched as she came down from her high. With a harsh yank, she revealed your glistening appearance to others, all of whom let out low groans at the sight of you.
Usopp’s hips began rocking to meet the strokes of your hand. He was now far more eager to experience his own release.
Luffy let out a muttered curse as well as a few words about tying you to the ship’s main mast sometime soon. His cock was only becoming harder by the minute.
Meanwhile, Zoro merely confirmed that he had been the one slapping your ass earlier when he gave you yet another. He groped at your exposed skin with an impatient look in his eyes.
And Sanji, who had been unusually quiet, decided to join Zoro in his torment. Long fingers were shoved deep into your sopping pussy soon after Sanji reached beneath you and gave a rough pinch to your sensitive clit.
Nami smirked as the four men leered at your exhausted expression. They were like sea monsters hunting for their next meal. Her palm collided with your cheek and you couldn’t help but groan as she roughly smeared her cum all over your face without a care in the world.
The grip on your hair was passed on to Usopp, who was still meeting your heavy strokes with his own desperate thrusts. Nami then shifted so she could lean against the many pillows on Luffy’s bed.
She thought about how she’d probably bring out her strap later in order to fuck you properly. But for now, she wanted nothing more than to watch her panting crew mates have their way with you.
And by the way Usopp forced your head backwards and shoved his fingers into your mouth, leaving you barely able to maintain your balance in your position of being on all fours, she was sure that her wishes were about to come to fruition. In fact, she had already started caressing her wet folds in anticipation.
“My turn now, babygirl,” chuckled Usopp. His fingers were still lodged deep in your throat. The sound of your gags and wet gargles as they shifted in and out of your mouth brought a wide grin to his face. “Might not be taking that break after all if you take my dick like this. You’ve gotten so much better at deepthroating recently.”
“Too good to resist, isn’t she?” smirked Zoro, palming at his heavy balls. “Now hurry up. I want to put my cock in her ass already and Sanji won’t let me until he eats her out.”
“All right, all right, Mr. Pushy,” groaned Usopp, shaking his head upon noticing the way Sanji glared at Zoro for his comment. “C’mere, sweet thing, open that mouth nice and wide for ‘ol Captain Usopp.”
You gasped for air when he finally removed his fingers. You weren’t given much of an opportunity to catch your breath, however, since his cock immediately took their place.
Usopp laughed at the way your eyes widened. With both hands now tangled in your hair, he set to work on pleasuring himself. He rolled his hips repeatedly, carelessly yanking your mouth back and forth on his cock in time with his thrusts.
While his cock may have been on the shorter side when compared to those of your other crew mates, it definitely made up for it in girth. Your lips stretched to accommodate him. Whenever Usopp got the opportunity to fuck your mouth, you always knew you’d be left struggling for air.
He tossed his head back with a moan and screwed his eyes shut. You could only imagine the expression of pure ecstasy on his face, too busy trying to not choke as his tip repeatedly met the back of your throat. With every sloppy movement, his balls slapped against your chin, surely collecting some of Nami’s cum that still coated your skin.
“Oh, shit,” he sighed. “I’m gonna cum already. Seems like your hand did most of the work.”
If he somehow expected a response, he must have been quite disappointed. The only sounds that left your body at the moment were wet gags and muffled squeals.
His thrusts sped up as he gasped, “Cumming! Fuck, I’m cumming! Your mouth is so good! Fuck!”
Before his release could shoot into your mouth, Usopp pulled out. You quickly close your eyes, coughing for air, as he stroked his cock in an attempt to prolong his orgasm with a look of excitement.
His cum squirted onto you as he gasped with a smile. He was definitely proud of himself for adding yet another layer of arousal to your appearance.
As he let go of his load, you had a slight suspicion that Usopp aimed everywhere but your open, awaiting mouth. Only a few drops landed on your tongue. The rest splattered onto your cheeks and nose. You even thought a small amount sprayed onto your forehead with the curve of his cock.
“Open those pretty eyes for me,” ordered Usopp, giving your hair a rather sharp tug. “Look at me.”
“Usopp,” you whimpered, but followed his instructions nonetheless, swallowing what little release he had fed into your mouth.
You were met with his grinning face. His cock was continuously being stroked by his free hand. He was still hard.
“So much for a break,” he laughed. “Let me grind on your face this time, baby. Here, you can even lick my balls while I do it. Stick your tongue out again.”
You did so, closing your eyes once more as Usopp tilted his length upwards. His heavy balls rested on your tongue. He shifted forward on his knees until he could press his shaft against your face. Slowly, he began grinding himself against you.
His cock rubbed his previous release. It smeared over your skin as well as his length. While Usopp continued rolling his hips, you lapped at his balls, which shifted over your tongue with every one of his movements.
“That’s it,” hummed Usopp. “Fuck, you’re so good with your tongue. Here, I got the cum off your face. Now you can clean it off my dick, you pretty little bitch.”
He pulled away, giving you a chance to see what he was talking about. Grinding against your face had covered his shaft in his previous load of cum. What he had left on your face was nothing but a smeared, creamy mess you’d have to deal with later.
“Oh, shit, wait,” he muttered. “You still got a bit right there.”
He then forcefully tilted your head, once using your hair as leverage. His tip swiped over your cheek, collecting another drop of his cum on the swollen, mushroom-shaped head of his cock.
“All right,” he chuckled. “Now suck.”
He tapped the head against your tongue before sinking into your mouth once again. He repeated his rough thrusts from before, using your mouth as he pleased. The combined taste of his and Nami’s cum was like a dream.
“Say, Usopp?” muttered Luffy. “You said her mouth made you cum twice last night. Why not go for three this time?”
“Love to,” replied Usopp, shoving your wet mouth to the base of his length and holding you down. “Don’t know if I’d make it though—! Oh! Oh, oh, fuck!”
Another wave of cum burst from his cock. This time, however, he didn’t leave your mouth. White froth escaped you and gathered at the corners of your lips. At the base of Usopp’s throbbing length, a white ring of cum was forming.
He finally pulled you off his cock. Forcing your mouth shut, Usopp grinned at the sight of your flushed appearance, “Swallow. C’mon, it’s what you’re made for, filthy bitch. Be a good slut and drink my cum.”
His grip on you was like a vice, tight and showing no hints of letting go anytime soon. Until you followed his commands and swallowed his salty release, that is.
Once you had done so, he opted to slap your cheeks and nose with his cock instead. He jerked your head backwards like he had done earlier. He let go of his cock, forced your mouth open, and spit down your throat. He then shoved his fingers inside, pushing the boundaries of how deep they could go.
“Don’t know if I can get through another one,” he huffed, cock twitching from overstimulation between his legs.
“Let me handle it. I’d like to see her choke on you again,” said Nami. “We can even make it a little more interesting. If you can do it, we’ll each give you a few Berry, won’t we?”
The others agreed. Yet another grin decorated Usopp’s expression as he took up their wager. He shifted upwards on the bed until he could lean comfortably against the pile of soft pillows. During this, he dragged you along by your hair.
He offset your balance with a particularly rough tug. Your arms fell out from beneath you and you quickly found yourself in a face-down, ass-up position, much to the pleasure of Zoro, who groaned at the sight. It had always been his favorite.
Your face was pressed into Luffy’s bedsheets, directly between Usopp’s thighs. He and Nami once again traded off on whose grip would pull at your roots. Usopp relaxed into the pillows.
While he had been wondering if he could take anymore, not a single one of the Straw Hats thought about whether or not you could. Your body was already starting to give out with exhaustion, despite none of them having properly fucked you yet.
At this rate, you’d be passed out cold by the time any of them even thought about actually fucking you.
Instead, they each moaned, cursed, and even laughed at the sight of Nami shoving your tired mouth down onto Usopp’s cock as she knelt next to you. She barely pulled you off before forcing your head back down.
“Nothing but a whore, huh?” she scoffed, thumbing at her clit. “You’re pretty much a human fleshlight now based on how much you let us use you for our own personal pleasure. Just a fucking toy.”
Usopp was moaning loudly, focused solely on his twitching cock. He gripped the sheets beneath him and tossed his head back against Luffy’s pillows in pure ecstasy.
Nami, meanwhile, had continued driving your mouth on and off Usopp’s swollen length. She flicked and massaged her clit in sync with her own moans and whimpers. Eyes threatening to squeeze shut, she quickly pressed you back onto Usopp’s cock one last time.
You couldn’t help gagging when she made your nose collide with Usopp’s abdomen. It was the deepest you had ever taken someone’s cock inside your mouth. And she refused to let you come up for air as the two of them neared yet another release.
Without a care in the world, she held you firmly against Usopp’s pelvis, no matter how much you gagged and choked on him.
Nami came first. Her orgasm covered her hand with slick, wet cum. Her mouth fell open and a high-pitched moan came out before she could stop it.
Midway through her release, Usopp cursed. The tip of his cock was pressed firmly to the back of your throat, thanks to Nami’s forceful grip. He flooded your mouth with his third orgasm of the night.
As they both finally began to relax, Nami leaned down to lick some of the smeared cum that Usopp had left on your face. She hummed at the taste, running her tongue over her lips with a feral grin.
Meanwhile, Usopp’s cock had started to soften in your mouth, though you knew he’d probably be begging for another round soon enough. Finally allowed to come up for air, you prepared to swallow Usopp’s load, only to be stopped by Sanji suddenly grabbing your jaw.
You stared up at him with a confused expression. At the same time, Sanji almost got distracted by your wet lashes. Usopp’s cock really did a number on you.
“Wait, darling,” he finally smiled. “It’s my turn next and we need to prepare you for our swordsman over here. Why don’t we use that cum as some extra lube?”
He held out his hand, gesturing for you to spit Usopp’s cum into his waiting palm. You did so, but only after receiving a nod of approval from Usopp himself.
“Now that that’s settled, let’s spread those ass cheeks of yours so I can get you ready,” he chuckled. “Luffy, why don’t you do the honors? We don’t want Zoro getting ahead of himself. He might attempt to shove himself in dry like the pervert he is.”
Luffy could only chuckle as Sanji and Zoro glared at one another. They had never been the best when it came to sharing your body.
Luffy eventually decided to play along as some form of mediator for the two men. Letting go of his own throbbing erection, he palmed at your ass, roughly spreading you open.
Sanji seized his opportunity. He slathered the handful of Usopp’s thick, white cum over your exposed asshole, even using his fingers to push some of it into your tight entrance.
“Sanji!” you gasped at the sudden intrusion. “Please!”
He grinned, gesturing for Luffy to continue stroking himself. And then Sanji got to work. You yelped in surprise when he unexpectedly shoved you completely onto the bedsheets.
Sanji then flipped you onto your back before grabbing your ankles and dragging you to the edge of the bed. With an excited grin, he picked up a pair of someone’s discarded underwear off the floor and shoved them into your mouth.
You were dizzy with all his sudden movements, especially when he knelt on the floor, situating your dangling legs on top of his shoulders. He was now in the perfect position to do what he always did best during these rough fucking sessions.
And that was eating your pussy and prepping your ass.
He ran his tongue over your wet folds. Once, twice, and then a third time before delivering a mean slap to your clit.
You jerked with a muffled squeal, reaching out in a failed attempt to grab onto his hair. However, Sanji glared when you did so.
Spitting onto your wet entrance, he looked at Usopp, who was still relaxing against the pillows near Luffy’s headboard. Next to him, Nami was lazily fingering herself, waiting for another opportunity to strike.
Upon meeting Sanji’s eyes, Usopp felt his brow involuntarily furrow. He tilted his head curiously.
“Care to pin her wrists down for me?” asked Sanji.
Usopp grinned at the idea. He shifted forward on the bed until he sat near your head. Leaning down, he gave you an upside down kiss on the forehead before grabbing your wrists. He held them together, pulling them above your head to rest in his lap.
“Hey, Sanji,” he smirked, “ruin that pussy of hers, won’t ya?”
“Oh, believe me,” chuckled Sanji, “I plan to.”
You were left to squirm in their hold when Sanji slapped your clit yet again. Your cries were still muffled by the fabric of the underwear that had been shoved into your mouth.
Pressing down firmly against your abdomen to hold you in place, Sanji leaned in to kiss your folds. His free hand, meanwhile, busied itself with your ass. He shoved two fingers inside your tight hole, pumping them in and out at a steady pace.
He flattened his tongue against you. The way his nose nudged your clit with every move would have made you melt if he had simply given you the time.
Your blurred mind thought back to all the times Sanji had described you as his ‘favorite meal’. And by the way he licked and sucked and slurped at your arousal, shoving his mouth as close to your pussy as he possibly could, you had no doubt he had been telling the truth. He was like a man starved as he indulged himself on your sweet, dripping core.
Sanji always seemed to enjoy the process of creating a wet mess between your thighs. Meanwhile, Usopp simply watched the scene with a wide smirk, now holding both your wrists in one hand as he leaned closer in order to run his hands over your exposed breasts.
Usopp seized his opportunity to slap your tits. He bit his lip with an amused sparkle in his eyes, listening to your smothered cries as he flicked, pinched, and even twisted your nipples.
“Poor baby,” he mocked you with a phony pout. “Can’t take a bit of teasing when it comes to those tits of yours?”
You continued to whimper, muscles tensing at the feeling of Sanji collecting your slick and adding a third finger to your ass. He pulled his face away from your entrance, pausing in eating your pussy to focus on the way you took his fingers instead.
“Been wondering if you could take my whole hand inside this pretty little ass with enough effort,” he pondered quietly, licking his lips to savor your taste. “Guess now is as good a time as any to try it out.”
He pulled his fingers out of you, but the moment didn’t last very long. In the blink of an eye, Sanji had covered his digits in the slick of your leaking cunt before pressing them back into your ass. This time, a fourth finger joined the previous three.
His muscles flexed with every movement of his hand. The pace of his fingers was lightning fast. In and out they went, finally beginning to loosen up your tight hole.
You writhed on the bedsheets, only to find yourself with no escape. Sanji’s free hand was still splayed over your abdomen, thumb sticking out to stroke your clit as he focused entirely on wrecking your other entrance.
Along with that, Usopp still held your wrists in a single unwavering grip. He continued tormenting your breasts with a wild grin. Pinching, pulling, twisting, slapping. Anything he could think of, his free hand did.
Your eyes widened at the feeling of Sanji finally inserting his thumb as well. He successfully squeezed all five fingers into your tight ass. Expecting him to slow down with his chaotic pace for you to adjust, you shrieked in surprise when he simply kept pushing inwards.
He truly meant his whole hand.
Whoever’s underwear you had crammed in your mouth continued to muffle whatever noises you happened to make. Sanji was now wrist-deep into your ass and showed no signs of stopping.
“I guess we finally figured out why Zoro likes her ass so much,” smirked Nami.
“Yeah,” agreed Luffy, peeking over Sanji’s shoulder to get a better view of your torment. “Hers must be the only asshole in the entire East Blue that can take that gigantic cock of his. Right, Zoro?”
You could hardly understand what they were saying, still squirming uselessly against Sanji and Usopp, both of whom were still fascinated by how much of Sanji’s large hand could be pressed inside your ass. You were sure your hole would be gaping by the end of the night by the way things were currently going.
Zoro let out a deep chuckle, slowly running a large hand over the length of his thick erection, “You caught me. This whore takes it in the ass all the time, whenever I want to shove it inside, no matter how deep or rough. Not even the women who offer sex at ship ports have been able to take my cock in the ass.”
“And when you realized our little slut could?” asked Luffy.
Even Sanji and Usopp looked away from you long enough to hear the swordsman’s reply. As he did so, Sanji slowly began thrusting his hand inside your body. He had shoved it so deep into your ass that part of his forearm had disappeared from view.
“I knew we’d found the perfect cum dump,” shrugged Zoro.
The more they spoke, the more you felt like this particular day was far from over. At this rate, you’d probably be fucked until nightfall. How could they be so casual while you were writhing against the mattress, covered in sweat and tears and cum, and left with no options of escape?
You were practically sobbing out of need for a release as Sanji continued using his hand to fuck your ass. He then leaned in to pick up where he left off eating your pussy. You let out yet another muffled scream as tension began to build up within your stomach.
You made another attempt at freeing your wrists from Usopp’s grasp. It was to no avail though. Instead, he simply glared down at you before yanking your wrists even further away from your body.
His free hand offered a few harsh slaps to your flushed face. He then decided to spit on you for good measure.
“Behave,” he ordered. “Don’t push your luck, slut. It might not work out the way you’d like.”
Nami clicked her tongue, looking between the four men with raised eyebrows, “She may be a really good cum dump, but I gotta say that I’m really surprised she hasn’t gotten pregnant yet. I mean, you four have practically turned her into a breeding station for yourselves.”
“Even if she did get pregnant,” chuckled Luffy, “she’d never know who the father is. Not for sure anyway. It would be a guessing game for us!”
“She won’t get pregnant,” scoffed Sanji, pausing to grin when you suddenly let out another cry when he thrust his hand into your ass particularly hard. “Before we left Coco Village, I learned how to make a special herbal tea that would prevent it. Trust me, we can fill her pussy up as much as we want—”
“Hey, hey, hey!” interrupted Usopp. ���Look!”
Each of their eyes snapped to you. Your back arched off Luffy’s mattress. The combination of Sanji’s hand being carelessly thrust in and out of your ass and the way your crew mates spoke as though you were just some object for their pleasure had finally sent you over the edge.
You squirted for the first time in your life. Sanji let out a loud laugh. He quickly pulled his hand out of your ass in order to slap your clit again and again.
“That’s it, darling!” he exclaimed, pushing your legs back as he stood. “Let’s make that happen again. Here, I just gotta put my cock in you—!”
Right as he pressed the tip of his twitching length against your gaping ass, Zoro cursed and pushed him away from you.
“Fuck her somewhere else,” he glared. “Didn’t we just have a whole conversation about how well she takes my cock in her ass? You can fist her all you want, but I’ll always be the first to properly fuck her there. Wait your turn, cook. You can fuck that hole when I’m done.”
Sanji scoffed, but listened nonetheless. He then turned to his second option. Much like Zoro staking claim on your ass, Luffy had always been the first to pound your tight pussy.
After all, why shouldn’t he be given priority when it came to filling your wet cunt? He had known you the longest, ever since your youthful days on Dawn Island. Not to mention, he was the captain.
This was his ship. And that meant you were his by extension, mostly to pass around and share with his sweaty, moaning crew mates as he saw fit. But if he really wanted to, he could start keeping you to himself, filling you day and night without a care while the others were left to fend for themselves. Then again, Luffy often enjoyed the spectacle his friends provided when they used you.
And Sanji looked particularly desperate at the moment, probably worried about you coming down from your high before he got the chance to send you into overstimulation. Forcing you to release again and again without providing a break for your tight pussy was one of Sanji’s favorite things to do.
After thinking it over, Luffy nodded with a small smile, “You can have her pussy first. Just this once. Just for tonight.”
Sanji quickly thanked him. Standing at the edge of the bed, the cook wrapped your legs around his waist. Grabbing onto your hips, Sanji watched as you shook your head at the new position. Your eyes were hazy and your whines were still being muffled by the underwear in your mouth.
And yet, despite your obvious need for a break, Sanji persisted, “Oh, c’mon, love, I know you’ve got a few more in you. Don’t give up on us yet. You’re not even halfway done.”
He finally pressed into your sopping entrance. He sank his cock deep into you without giving it a second thought. You cried into the fabric still shoved into your mouth when he left no time for you to adjust, immediately pounding into you in an effort to seek his own pleasure. Not to mention, he wanted to see you squirt again.
He roughly massaged and slapped your clit, moaning with a smile each time your tight entrance clenched around him. He and Usopp, who still kept your wrists pinned together, admired the way your back arched and how you wriggled against them.
Sanji’s fingers dug into the flesh of your hips while he continued to abuse your clit with his free hand. Usopp leaned over you to lick the tears that rolled down your cheeks before trailing wet kisses along your jawline.
“Doing so well for us,” he muttered. “Our good girl. No one else like you in the world.”
Feeling your muscles tense again, Sanji began to thrust into you at a faster pace. He ran his hands over your warm skin, beads of sweat beginning to appear. Some of his blond hair stuck to his forehead.
“Fuck, I’m going to cum! Take it, darling! Take my fucking cum!” he exclaimed. “Want it dripping down your legs at the next harbor so everyone can see who you belong to! Want to show everyone who breeds this tight cunt! Want to let them all see what we do below deck!”
“Thought you said she can’t get pregnant?” scoffed Zoro, rolling his eyes.
Sanji laughed, “A man can still dream, can’t he? Especially when he’s got a perfect slut like this one.”
With a moan, Sanji leaned down to press his chest to yours, still pumping in and out of you. He tucked his face against your neck. His heavy breath hit your skin with every pant and groan that escaped him. Digging his fingers deep into the flesh of your hips, the sound of slapping skin filled the room.
He quickly pulled the spit-covered underwear out of your mouth, and muttered, “Let us hear those pretty moans. Scream for me, darling. Shout and cry while you cum for me.”
“Oh, fuck, Sanji! Please! Please! I can’t—! I can’t take anymore!” you sobbed, once again attempting to free yourself from Usopp’s strong grip. “Usopp! Let me go! Oh! It’s too much, please! Ah! Ah! Ah!”
“Love it when you beg like that,” sighed Sanji, giving your clit another slap and covering his fingers in your release, “but it’s going to be a no to all of those requests, my love. You’re here for us, remember? We’ll do as we like and fuck you as we please. You’re ours to fill.”
And fill you, he did. With a groan, Sanji only needed to thrust a few more times before his orgasm took over his body. Cum shot out of his cock in thick, creamy ropes, sinking deep into you as the tip of his length kissed your cervix.
His hips continued to grind against you. However, despite the waves of pleasure that left his cock twitching deep within you, his brow furrowed with dissatisfaction.
Your arousal had covered his thighs and pelvis with every slap of skin-on-skin. You were soaked and left gasping for air. You were covered in a glow of sweat, still trying to pull your wrists from Usopp as he kissed them.
But you didn’t cum. And you definitely didn’t squirt for a second time like Sanji had hoped. He was back at square one, it seemed. Lucky for him, you appeared to be on the cusp of another orgasm. He wouldn’t have to work too hard to force it out of you.
Shaking his head, he sighed disappointedly, “No good, darling. You didn’t cum like I asked. What happened to our good girl? Our perfect little play thing?”
His hold on your hips tightened, which caused your tired eyes to widen. You made yet another failed attempt at escape. As Sanji rose to stand between your legs like he initially had been, he glared down at you. He then gave the side of your ass a bruising slap.
“Are you nothing but a misbehaving whore now?” he asked. “Guess I’ll have to fuck you harder this time.”
He placed his hand over your mouth before you could even attempt to reply. The other gripped the sheets next to you, seeking leverage as his cock sank into you again.
He kept his word, instantly setting a fast pace. His skin slapped against yours with every thrust. He leaned in to press his chest against yours before reaching down between your legs with the hand that had been wrapped up in the sheets.
He swiped at your clit. Beneath him, flush against his skin, you were left with no room to move. Suddenly, you had finally pulled yourself free from Usopp’s grip, causing him to let out a quiet curse.
Meanwhile, Sanji groaned at the feeling of your nails digging into the skin of his back. Just when you thought the two of you couldn’t be closer, he tucked his head into your neck.
Warm, open-mouthed kisses littered your skin. Sanji removed his hand from your mouth, only to wrap it around your throat, squeezing lightly as he leaned in to kiss you. He tasted like heaven.
Your lips parted from his with a whine. The combination of his thrusts, his fingers against your clit, and his lips on your skin sent you over the edge.
You came a second time, covering Sanji’s cock and hand in your release. He pressed his forehead to yours, still panting with every thrust.
“Good girl,” he murmured. “Our good girl. So perfect. I know we may be rough with you, but we all adore you. Know that, don’t you? You know that we love you?”
You nodded, eyes clenching tightly, “I love—! Ah! I love you too! Please, Sanji—!”
“Please, what, darling?” he teased with a grin, hips beginning to slow in order to draw out his time with you. Both of his hands moved to caress your cheeks as he planted his elbows on the sheets to keep himself balanced. “Tell me what you want. I’ll give you anything. Whatever that beautiful heart desires.”
You melted in response to his sweet words. It took every bit of your effort to keep yourself from falling into overstimulation.
“Cum, Sanji,” you whispered, palms rubbing over his back in a soothing rhythm. “I want you to cum for me. Please, please.”
He nodded, forehead still against yours, causing your noses to bump with every move he made. Feeling himself growing closer to another orgasm, he repeated his earlier sentiment, “Anything. Anything for you, love.”
His cum filled you for a second time. His pelvis rested flush against your heated skin. Breathing heavily, he layered a few more kisses against your skin, and then he muttered, “Thank you, darling.”
You whined at the loss of him. When he pulled out, a mixture of his release and yours seeped out of you and drenched the bedsheets. You were left reaching out for him, eyes closing with a new wave of exhaustion.
Usopp then helped you move further onto the bed until your head rested comfortably against Luffy’s pillows. He and Nami took up space on either side of you.
Nami’s fingertips traced over your nipples with a coy smile. Usopp, meanwhile, leaned in to layer kisses on your forehead.
The bed sank beneath a sudden weight. A hand tapping your face forced your tired eyes open. At the same time, a deep voice said, “Look at me. Come on, look at me.”
You groaned, but followed their demands despite your exhaustion. You weren’t entirely sure how much longer you could make it.
Zoro hovered over you, gazing down with a small smile, “There’s those pretty eyes. Think you can keep going? It’s my turn now. I’ve been waiting to fill up your ass this whole time. You gonna let me?”
He grinned when you nodded in response. He patted your hips and then rolled you onto your stomach with the help of both Nami and Usopp.
You pressed your face into the pillow, tightly gripping the fabric as he lifted your hips. Zoro wasted no time and immediately began pressing into your ass. Thanks to Sanji’s prep, he had little difficulty in doing so.
Next to you, Nami reached out to slap your ass. On the other side, Usopp ran his fingers along your arched back, quietly muttering, “Almost. He’s almost in. You take cock so well, ya know? You’re always such a good set of holes for us, huh?”
Zoro paused when he was finally balls-deep inside you. He hunched over you from behind, tightly wrapped his arms around your hips, and pressed his forehead against your warm skin. His chest vibrated with every groan as you were left to clutch at the pillow beneath you.
“Bet this feels better than that waiter’s fist, doesn’t it?” he chuckled. “I’m gonna pound this ass so damn hard. I’ve been waiting to cum in it ever since we dragged you in here.”
Arms still around you, he wasted no time in keeping his word. His pace was fast and rough. His cock drove deep into you without restraint. Meanwhile, you were left with nothing but silent screams that failed to escape your raw throat.
“I wonder—! Fuck! I wonder how much a body like yours could bring in at the—! Oh, shit! Ah! At the next port!” laughed Zoro. “Tons of pirates would kill to use a set of holes like this! We could slut you out until it’s time to go. Then we’d have our way with you again once we set sail.”
You whined at the thought of it. The image of you being dragged off the ship, only to be tied up and ravaged by the few drunken sailors who could afford you. All the while, your crew mates counted the Berry that was being dropped into their awaiting palms.
Nami seemed to enjoy the idea as well, letting out a quiet laugh, “I bet even some Marines would have a go.”
Your face was shoved into the pillow by Zoro before you could come up with even a semblance of a response. He continued thrusting his cock in and out of your ass without remorse, purely focused on seeking his own pleasure as he stretched your tight hole even more than already had been.
The others continued spouting out ideas of how they could put your body to further use. They spoke about sharing you so casually. It seemed they wanted the whole world to see how good you are for them.
They would never go through with any of their wild ideas, of course. You knew they’d never be willing to share you with anyone besides themselves. They’d be far too jealous for it.
Slowly slipping away, you hardly even noticed that Zoro had paused to cum inside you. He continued rolling his hips, working to keep himself hard for another round as his cum leaked out from your hole to create a white ring around the base of his cock.
“Hey!” he exclaimed, suddenly yanking your hair in an effort to keep you aware. “Come on, wake up! I’ve still gotta fill you up a little more. Gonna give you all my cum tonight.”
He began to pound into you much harder than he had been. You gasped with each of his thrusts, though he didn’t seem to care very much.
His balls slapped against you. And his hips were surely bruising your ass by now. He was unrelenting as he chased after another orgasm. Sweat beaded upon his furrowed brow, lighting his pleasured expression aglow.
He only slowed his movements when you reached back and attempted to place a hand on his strong thigh. With his pelvis flush against you, he let go of your hair and softly stroked the length of your back instead.
“You all right?” he muttered. “Wanna stop?”
Most people probably imagined Zoro to be rough and nothing more. And they would be partially correct. If only others could experience him like this. A version so beautiful that they would be left with no choice but to see him for who he was deep within his heart.
The concern in his voice and the caring gleam in his eyes were things only you were allowed to witness. His expression softened further when you didn’t respond, your face twisted up in a million emotions as you struggled for air.
“Wanna see you, Zoro,” you whined.
He laughed, realizing what you were referring to. Next to Luffy’s bed, attached to the wall, was a mirror. Perfect for occasions like this.
Zoro was the only one you had ever wanted to watch. There was just something about the way his muscles moved that you really seemed to enjoy admiring.
He wrapped an arm around your chest and tugged you upwards. He was flush against you as you both balanced on your knees. His other hand reached around to grab your chin, forcefully turned your head to the left, and allowed your tired eyes to stare at your reflection.
Zoro’s chest left no space between you with the way he pressed himself against your back. Rolling his hips again, he muttered, “You’re so pretty like this. Before you, I’d never met a whore who likes to see herself get ruined.”
He picked up his pace again without a second thought. He pounded into your ass and allowed you to enjoy the sight in the mirror. His muscles flexed and rippled with every movement. He was glowing with sweat. He was driving you into a haze until he spoke again.
“Fuck,” he breathed. “You’re such a good set of holes for us, aren’t you? Ya know, I’ve always wondered who your favorite is, if you even have one?”
It was finally your turn to tease them for a change. With a gasp, you closed your eyes and grinned, “Oh, trust me. I have a favorite. Ah!”
His grip on you tightened. Each of them had fallen silent. The only sounds being left in the room were that of Zoro’s skin slapping against yours, along with the moans and grunts that escaped the pair of you.
“Want to share, princess?” asked Zoro, tucking his forehead against your shoulder as he panted.
You chuckled, “Not particularly. Oh! I’d like to—! Ah! Oh, yes! I’d like to keep at least one secret to myself.”
Zoro hummed. The vibrations of it against your back nearly made you shudder. The arm that had been wrapped around your chest moved downwards. He didn’t waste a second before slapping your swollen clit.
He chuckled and refused to let you escape when you jerked in his hold, “No secrets on this ship. Not when you’re just here to be used. Fuck! Like the cum slut you are. Shit, fucking take it!”
He stuttered in his thrusts, sinking as far into your ass as he could go. Warm cum shot out in heavy ropes. Some of it seeped out onto Zoro’s cock like it had before.
He always released an astounding amount of cum whenever he orgasmed. It had never been able to completely stay inside you, no matter how much you wanted it to.
With another slap to your clit, he muttered, “Let’s get that secret out of you.”
His eyes met Nami’s and you felt a sudden pit in your stomach. You could handle them separately. But together? They have always been a particularly mean pair, especially on Nami’s side.
“Get your strap,” said Zoro. “I want you to put it in her pussy. We’ll give her no choice but to tell us who her favorite is.”
You were then manhandled into a new position. Zoro moved to lie on his back. He left your back pressed flush against his chest on top of him, allowing you both to stare up at Nami. She kneeled between your legs on the mattress, putting on the strap she had been desperately waiting to use.
Zoro kept you pinned against him with both of his strong arms wrapped around your chest. He hooked his chin on your shoulder, slowly beginning to grind against you as he waited.
Nami spread you open even further by placing your legs on her shoulders. Tightly gripping your thighs, she smirked and tilted her head at you.
You turned your head to look for a savior.
Usopp, who sat on your left, wouldn’t do anything. His eyes were zeroed in on your breasts, waiting to see them bounce each time you got pounded.
Behind him, standing next to the bed, was Sanji. He was busy stroking his length back to life. And, if given the opportunity, you were sure he’d join Nami and Zoro in their crusade.
That left you with one option.
On your right, Luffy sat next to you on the edge of the bed, smiling with dark eyes and a hard cock between his legs. You reached out to him with one hand, which he took just as Nami pushed two fingers inside you.
“Luffy, please,” you gasped. “Don’t you wanna take your turn? You’ve waited so long. Why don’t you fuck me instead? These two might run me dry by the time they’re done. You still want your chance, don’t you?”
He let his eyes wander over Nami and Zoro, both of whom looked at him for an answer. He was the captain, after all. If he wanted to kick them to the curb and have his way with you instead, he could.
When he gave you a soft smile, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb, you nearly breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe he’d show you mercy.
But your hopes were dashed when he simply chuckled, and said, “If they run you dry, I’ll just get you wet again. Go ahead, you two.”
Your eyes widened, “Luffy—? Ah!”
He grinned at you as Nami suddenly shoved her strap deep inside your pussy. You were filled to the brim by her and Zoro. Both of them immediately began pounding your holes without care.
“I chose the big strap today! Perfect for a stupid slut like you, huh?” laughed Nami. “Gotta make sure that pussy stays stretched out just like your gaping ass. I might even take it off and leave it shoved inside you when we’re done. Bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
You couldn’t respond. The only thing that escaped you were cries, shouts, and moans. Tears slid along your skin one after the other. Zoro nearly chuckled at the way you wriggled in his tight grip.
Nami harshly slapped your clit. Once, twice, and then a third time, each one harder than the last.
“So fucking out of it, aren’t you? Nothing but a filthy, babbling cum slut,” she scoffed. “Might as well not even give you any clothes since you wanna get fucked all the time.”
Zoro groaned, “Great idea, Nami. Never even thought of that. She’d be free for the taking all the time.”
Their thrusts were completely uneven. Each of them were only concerned with using your holes however they deemed fit.
Zoro played with your tits while panting heavily into your ear. You could feel his cock swelling inside you, ready to burst any second.
Nami pressed down on the bulge in your stomach, grinning at how full you were. She continued pounding into your wet entrance without any sign of slowing down.
The others, meanwhile, were enjoying the show. Sanji and Usopp had moved to kneel on the mattress on your left side while Luffy had done the same on your right. The three of them stroked their heavy cocks as they grinned down at you.
Zoro grabbed your jaw from behind and held your mouth open, partially putting an end to your noises, “Let them fill this pretty mouth. Let them dump their loads down your throat so you can swallow it all up like you were made for.”
The three men groaned, each of them cumming at almost the exact same time, once they saw how Zoro opened you up for them. You closed your eyes just in time.
Three loads of cum splattered onto you, all of them aiming for your open mouth and missing terribly. Rope after rope of white covered your face. The streams of cum never seemed to end. Each of their releases mixed with one another upon your skin in a sloppy combination.
Luffy, who still held onto your hand, decided to use that to his advantage, wrapping it around his cock for further pleasure. Usopp had reached out to entangle one of his hands in your hair in an effort to keep you steady. And Sanji, tossing his head back in ecstasy, extended his to caress whatever skin he could find.
Zoro held up the hand that had been holding your jaw, gesturing for Nami to stop thrusting and pulling his cock out of you when she did so. He then tightened his grip around your chest as if preparing for something.
“The waiter got to cum in her cunt,” he muttered. “Think I could get the same opportunity?”
Luffy shrugged with a smile, “Whatever makes you happy, Zoro. Remember, though, I’m only letting this happen tonight. Tomorrow, we’re back to normal, and I’ll be the first one cumming inside that pretty pussy.”
You yelped when he laid a sudden slap against your aching clit. Nami smirked at you in sick amusement, giving a sharp thrust to make you repeat the sound.
Luffy chuckled at the desperate look in your eyes, “So cute. Do whatever you want with her, Zoro. That’s why she’s here.”
Nami began to pull out her strap, only for Zoro to stop her. She raised her eyebrows at him expectantly.
“We can both fit,” he said. “Keep the strap and help me in while I hold her.”
You groaned as Nami eagerly agreed, once again looking to Luffy for a bit of relief. He beamed down at you excitedly and pressed a kiss to your hand.
“Luffy, please—! Mmph—!”
Zoro quieted you by placing his hand over your mouth. He then nipped at your ear, encouraging you to keep still in a muttered voice.
“You can do it!” smiled Luffy, squeezing your hand in his. “You took me and Usopp in the same hole last week! It’s what a pretty slut like you is made for, remember? Maybe we’ll even fit three in there one day.”
Nami guided the tip of Zoro’s length into your wet entrance, where he immediately pushed into you and waited for her to join. And when she finally did, you squealed loudly against Zoro’s hand.
Sanji chuckled at the sight of your eyes screwing shut and your back arching off Zoro’s chest before he yanked you close again, “Likes that, doesn’t she? Sweet little thing.”
Zoro and Nami began ramming into you as best as they could. With him covering your mouth, she was free to play with your clit as she pleased. She slapped, pinched, and massaged your bundle of nerves as you squirmed and shrieked.
“You’re like a doll. Press this button and you start talking,” she chuckled, and then she tightly grasped onto your hips. “Come here, I want to absolutely rail you before Zoro finishes.”
She began thrusting even harder, messily matching Zoro’s timing as he did the same. With both his cock and her strap inside you, everything felt impossibly tight, even with the way they stretched you open for them.
“Cumming,” grunted Zoro. “Gonna fuck my load into your damn womb! Fuck! The cook was right! We can’t get you pregnant, but we can still imagine it! Oh! Shit! Fuck! Ugh, ah!”
“You need to cum too!” demanded Nami, working your clit even more. “C’mon, flood these sheets with your cum, you little bitch! I wanna see you drenched!”
Another orgasm washed over you at the same time as Zoro. Nami pulled her strap out to watch you gush around the swordsman’s length. At the same time, his release began to fill your wet entrance, shooting deep into you and ruining your insides.
Nami stroked your legs as you and Zoro came down from your highs. She removed the strap after seeing how tired they had made you, sitting back to finger herself instead. She was sure that if she took you again, Luffy wouldn’t get what he had waited for this entire time.
With a grunt, Zoro rolled you off him, sending you to the right. He sat up and looked at the way you rested on your side, barely able to move out of pure exhaustion. After giving your swollen ass a few gentle pats, he went to get dressed before standing next to Usopp and Sanji, both of whom had done the same.
It didn’t take long for Nami to reach her release. Her cum-soaked hand directed a final slap onto your thigh. She couldn’t help but smirk at the sound of your tired groans. She quickly got dressed as well.
A gentle hand ran back and forth over your skin. Your eyes opened to find Luffy smiling down at you. You pushed yourself into his touch with a content sigh.
“You look pretty, Luffy,” you muttered. “Like an angel. You even got a fluffy halo.”
Zoro quietly scoffed, “Knew he was her favorite.”
“Don’t be jealous,” muttered Nami.
Luffy barely even spared them a glance, continuing to focus on you instead. He beamed at your compliment regarding his dark curls.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” you said, pulling at his hand. “Want you.”
He chuckled, examining your messy appearance, “You sure you don’t wanna go to sleep? You look worn out.”
You shifted to lie on your stomach and press a kiss against his thigh. One of your hands reached out to wrap around his cock, leaving him with a gasp on his lips as you slowly stroked him.
“Wanna be good for you,” you said. “Please?”
With a moan, he nodded. He reclined back against his pillows, helping you move to the space between his legs. Without a second thought, you began pleasuring him.
As you worked your hand along his length, Luffy looked at the rest of his crew, and said, “Sanji, could you get her a snack and some water? Usopp, Nami, some towels and a change of clothes to clean her up a little, please? And Zoro, maybe get a warm bath started for her?”
They each nodded before setting off to complete their task, but not before leaning in to either touch you gently, give you a kiss, or mutter a few sweet words.
They didn’t bother shutting the door behind them. Neither you nor Luffy cared anyway.
He sighed as you took him into your mouth. Your tongue swirled around him and one of your hands gave his balls some attention as well. He quickly grasped the other and kissed it, intertwining his fingers with yours.
Everything is slow now that the others have gone. In moments like this, Luffy often felt like the softest of them all, made up of dreams and unspoken love.
He came with a sigh, still allowing you to set the pace as his cum flooded your mouth. You swallowed around him before licking up the rest of his dripping release.
Shifting completely onto his back, he encouraged you to take up a new position on top. He ran his hands over the expanse of your back when you leaned into him after sinking down onto his throbbing cock.
“Take a break and let me do the work,” he sighed. “You’ve been so good for us, you deserve it. Let me make you cum one last time.”
He felt you nod against him. You hid in the crook of his neck, sighing at the feeling of his slow, gentle thrusts. It was a nice change of pace in comparison to the others.
Luffy layered soft kisses against your bare shoulder, each one completed with a groan that left the back of his throat. The heat of his skin set you alight.
“Were they too rough with you tonight?” he muttered. “I can tell them to go easy if you need me to. Nami and Zoro especially. I know how those two can get.”
“No, I’m okay,” you whispered, using your index finger to trace the muscles of his tan chest. “I liked it, I promise. You don’t need to worry about me.”
“I’m the captain. I’m also your friend,” he whispered. “It’s my job to take care of you. Especially after you’ve taken such good care of us.”
“Okay, Luffy,” you conceded, knowing he wasn’t going to back down from this particular debate, “then take care of me.”
With your permission given, his thrusts sped up. He pounded up into you while simultaneously doing his best to bounce you on his length. You gripped the pillow beneath his head and moaned as he used you to his heart’s content.
“Really should find a way to mark you,” he grunted, “so everyone knows you belong to the future King of the Pirates and his crew.”
“I’m yours, Luffy,” you whimpered. “Yours. Sanji’s. Nami’s. Usopp’s. Zoro’s. Ah! I belong to whoever you say. You’re my captain. Please!”
“You’re right,” he groaned, hands moving to grope your ass. “You do whatever I say. And you get fucked by whoever I want you to fuck. Don’t you? Huh?”
“Yes!” you cried. “Doesn’t matter who, you can make me take anyone you want! Oh!”
“I’ve got a friend named Koby,” he hissed. “He’s going to become a Marine. Next time we see him, you’re letting the two of us spit roast you. I know he’s probably dying for a release with a good, worthy pussy. You can choke on my cock while he fills up that tight hole.”
“I will! I’ll let him put all his cum inside me!” you gasped. “I’ll take anyone’s load, just tell me who!”
“Well,” he grinned, “right now you’re taking mine.”
At that, he shoved himself deep into you, cockhead quivering and aching as cum spurted out of his swollen tip. You all but collapsed against his chest, officially unable to move anymore as your walls fluttered with your own orgasm.
“That’s it, that’s it,” cooed Luffy, fingertips digging into your flesh. “Zoro was right about you being a perfect cum dump. You take it so well, no matter how hard you’ve been pounded.”
Eyes closing, you couldn’t even think of a response. Luffy’s load began leaking when he finally pulled out of you. He grinned at your sweaty, exhausted appearance. He then pressed a kiss to your temple and rubbed your back a few more times before he spoke.
“Come on, let’s get you into that bath and feed you some dinner. Gotta make sure you’re ready to go again tomorrow!”
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florenceafternoon · 1 month
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━。゜✿ jily fic recommendations ✿ ゜。━
Because I will never get tired of them, here are some more fic recs. These fics are set in the wizarding world but aren’t necessarily canon complaints.
For reference, anything in italics is an extract from the summaries on ao3.
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Never Quite Awake by @sunshinemarauder 
“Endings are nothing unfamiliar to Lily Evans; she’s seen the ends of sisterhood, friendship, and innocence, all from miles away. But this is an end unlike any other. An end that was never supposed to happen.”
If to love someone once is to break their heart, to love them twice is to break yours.
Lily falls for James in her seventh year. But the couple are sent onto two diverging paths when a life-shattering altercation halts their burgeoning relationship. Five years later, she's a curse breaker and he is a soldier.
When they meet again, it feels like coming home.
All the angst that comes with a jily second chance romance that takes place during wartime. A fake dating subplot, cursebreaker!Lily, pining!James. What more could you want. France (country) - a relevant tag
Through The Rain by @bookeatingbean
James and Lily's first kiss, and the story behind it. There's some fluff, some character study, and some good old-fashioned angst.
If you're looking for a character study that shows how they grew up through their school years. This fic shows you that Lily was not a perfect person and James was a bully for the sake of it but he grew to understand that the world does not revolve around him and strives to do better. Or Lily is stubborn and James is the definition of a ride-or-die
It's been a long time by writtenbyfreckles (on ao3)
It's been ten years since Lily left Hogwarts. She's returned to England to work as a Healer on the "ward of the wacky", only to find home isn't as safe as she thought it was. An attack leaves her locked in a ward with her patients, a bunch of Death Eaters and an Auror she hasn't seen for a long time.
I need more cannon divergence Auror!James and Healer!Lily
The Guide To Becoming A Better Man For Lily Evans by @padfootswhiskers
prompt: I decided to walk outside shirtless (accidentally) but I forgot it's winter and why're you screaming at me like that? And oh gosh, you're very pretty.
lingering days, short-lived nights by letthebookbegin (on ao3)
The summer before seventh year, James is desperately trying to think of anything but Lily, who's burrowed her way into his mind and looks quite comfortable there.
The summer before seventh year, Lily is craving a distraction. Avoiding her sister, she picks an ice cream shop for shelter.
At the end of a long summer day, their paths cross - and the rest, as they say, is history.
Ties That Bind by @charmsandtealeaves
Lily Evans grew up with old wives tales about soul mates, but she'd never put much stock in the idea. Not until after she learned about the world of magic and the fact that soul bonds were a thing that actually existed. Which makes these strange new feelings and experiences that much more difficult to manage.
So I read this a while ago but stupidly forgot to bookmark it and then I spent nearly an hour trying to find it again. Needless to say, I ADORE this fic and you should all go read it. Like, right now. Then come back here to talk to me about it.
Lily Evans Doesn't Believe In I Love You's also by @/ charmsandtealeaves
“Did you hear Lily Evans doesn’t believe in I love you's?”
It wasn’t exactly a secret. But no one knew why, until she decided to share a bottle of fire whiskey in the astronomy tower with James Potter.
Same Lily, same
Meet Me At The River also by @/ charmsandtealeaves
A chance encounter with a misplaced owl leads to a correspondence between pen pals. Lily confides in her mysterious Flea and finds herself falling along the way.
I can't remember if I've recommended this one already, but even if I have I'll rec it again because I love it so much!!
Your Friend, James by @thelighthousestale
It is the summer before their 7th year, and Lily and James spend the entire holiday writing letters to each other as their relationship slowly changes from friends to something more.
Just the ending of this one is everything. James and Sirius are never beating the codependent allegations
Castling by @missgryffin
When they were still very young, Remus Lupin’s dad married Lily Evans’ mum. It changes everything.
Lily and Remus are like the little brother who got bullied and then found friends except he invited them over for the first time and they all act weird because they're mildly terrified of his older sister. Friends to lovers jily is only rivaled by academic rivals jily.
Just the Two of Us by @arianatwycross
Head Students James and Lily face a perilous twist when a malicious potion surfaces in hate mail directed at Lily. Dumbledore orders a week-long quarantine in the Head Students' suite. With unspoken crushes lingering, the duo navigates close quarters, leading to unexpected revelations, lingering looks and forehead kisses.
silence and patience, pining in anticipation by @kay-elle-cee
Lily’s been hung up on James for years; a tipsy conversation might be the push she needs to do something about it.
DRESS IS A JILY SONG FOREVER AND ALWAYS
The Devil in the Cloak Room by @chiechie97
Getting your heart broken when you’re 17 seems to alter your brain chemistry more than you would think. Which is the precise reason why Lily has no intention of reconnecting with the friends she lost at the end of school.
And besides, she has no chance of knowing anyone at the masked Halloween party her friend drags her to. Especially not the guy in the devil mask. Right?
Usually I rec complete works but this one is so good I had to include it
Deception and other ways to find love by @annasghosts
“I’ll be your fake girlfriend, Potter.” And this is how Lily Evans embarks on the adventure of (fake) dating her former Hogwarts nemesis (and crush, but ssssh, it’s a secret). Will she be able to keep her cool? Will he?
Class of '78 by @emeralddoeadeer
Class of 1978 Five Year Reunion - July 29th, 1983
Now is the time to look upon our shared experience, our similarities must unite us rather than letting our differences divide us. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry invites the Graduating Class of 1978 to return to the castle for a weekend of reconnecting, reminiscing and recreation. We hope the passage of time has been kind to you all and look forward to welcoming you soon.
Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster, Order of Merlin First Class, Grand Sorc, DWiz, X.J sorc, S of Mag Q
It's been five years since graduation, and while many things have changed, some things never will.
James Potter Won't Go Quietly by la_plus_heureuse (on ao3)
Lily Evans remembers plenty about James Potter from Hogwarts. But an assignment from Mojo Magazine to profile the Quidditch star turned activist makes her realize what she remembered was all wrong.
canon divergence staring quidditch player James and journalist Lily
On A Scale of One to Ten (requires an ao3 account) by @petalsinwoodvale
Lily starts falling for an insecure, yet charming auror named James who is recovering from injury in her ward. No one else on staff will sit and talk to him, mostly due to septic skin covering most of his upper torso. Lily, however, finds him charming and funny. Naturally, when James' injuries start healing, he grows more and more handsome. The other healers suddenly take interest in James, romantically ...
foxy by lizpaige (on ao3)
Lily joins the boys at the shrieking shack on a particularly difficult moon in her new animagus form.
Lily & Remus friendship is so special to me
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gentrychild · 3 months
Note
O great Owl and thou noble fic-finding rats I come because I have failed to find that which I need.
There is a work, apart of your Anyone universe, where Izuku is writing a Quirk Analysis Paper and he wakes AfO up so he can see a mutation quirk which enlarges AfO's arm. I have combed through all of Anyone and then through your side works that take place in this universe. But I found nothing.
The only thing I can think is that it was a tumblr post or a fanfic one of your blog mates wrote for you. But alas, I am still here.
In exchange I swear that if my firstborn ever starts stealing quirks I will buy all the therapists, and if that fails I will leave him to your fic-finders with no rivers in sight. And they may nibble on him for all of forever.
With reverence and sincerity, -me
I have some bad news and good news for you. The bad news is that his is something I wrote and posted on Tumblr, and you will never find it again even if you scroll through the entire Anyone tag. The good news is that you must be especially lucky as I found it by pure luck in a file I had forgotten.
----------
Izuku, sitting on his bed, books and notebooks opened on all of its surface, clicked his pen. Once, twice, thrice, the sound echoing in the silent apartment without doing anything to bring the answer the teenager desperately needed.
Usually, deadlines weren’t a problem for him. For some obscure reasons, the teachers in his high school were trusting him no matter what he did and forging his mom’s signatures to excuse his many absences had become the routine. However, he needed to finish this paper for tomorrow morning, so Hebisuga could read it and save her grade in Meta Analysis. That way, she would stop worrying so much about this subject, focus back on her Japanese, and write once again her ridiculously good flash cards that she always accepted to share with Yuuto and him.
But right now… Izuku’s brain just wasn’t cooperating.
He got up, his back protesting as he stopped hunching over for the first time in a couple of hours, and he left his bedroom. His notebook in hand, he walked past the bathroom and knocked at the door of the master bedroom, currently invaded by the bane of his existence while his blissfully ignorant mother was away.
The door opened in the second, All for One appearing in front of him, his hair messy and his face showing the trace of the pillow but no sign of sleepiness. The villain was one of those persons who immediately passed from sleep to alertness while Izuku needed three cups of coffee to be semi-conscious.
“What is it?” the villain asked. “Did you-“
“Show me your mutation quirks, please. Preferably the one that can offer some kind of protection.”
“What makes you think that-“                                                                       
Izuku clicked his pen once again and just stared at the quirk-stealing-fiend.
All for One finally obliged, making his arm grow in size, muscles growing until it had gruesomely swollen up, and he even added some spear-like bones. Bewildered, he answered every questions Izuku had about the drawbacks, the weight, how much he could still move his arm, and so on.
Because if analyzing quirks was his passion and could become a job, words in a book didn’t mean anything to Izuku. He needed to ask questions, to make theories, to see them in action.
Once he was done and had all the elements he needed, he thanked All for One and walked back to his room without offering any explanation. But of course, his roommate didn’t need one.
“Did you just use me to finish your homework? At three AM?”
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codisgay · 2 months
Text
Mermen in Love
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-^-^-
Mer!Poly with Male!Reader, Soap, and Ghost.
Probably some Orca inaccuracies.
Ftm!Johnny, so M!Preg warning ig.
-^-^-
It had been a big surprise when suddenly Johnny started to get... well, fat.
Obviously neither {Name} or Simon said anything about it, assuming it was just because there happened to be abundance of fish and penguins recently.
All stayed normal until Johnny suddenly awoke from his unihemispheric state, normally he slept a long eight hours but this time he was in a panic.
The entire pod went to calm the unruly orca down, Simon and {Name} having to physically restrain their mate until he calmed.
"What the 'ell was that about?" Simon questioned, rubbing Johnny’s puffy cheeks in his palms.
"There's something inside me!" He wailed, letting out a noise as he was slapped by the calf growing in his womb.
Simon and {Name} exchanged a look as Johnny wailed between them, the entire pod stopping before {Name} shooed them off to continue on their hunt while he and Simon dealed with this.
"Love... are you sure? We were careful, we always are." {Name} asked gently, not wanting to further aggravate his mate. "It could just be a stomach ache...?"
"You think I wouldn't know if I was just getting an ache?!" He snapped, whipping around to shove an accusing finger in {Name}'s face. "Answer me dammit!" Johnny yelled, shaking poor {Name} by his shoulders.
"That's not- Stop that!" Simon interjected, forcing himself between his mates. "Both of you need to calm down." He frowned, glaring at them from beneath the human skull that sat on his face.
"Now, Johnny. {Name}'s question was valid, if not a bit rude." He huffed, giving him the side eye before turning back to Johnny. "We have been safe for years, so what did we do differently this year?"
All three paused, thinking over the last season. Which had to of been at least six months ago, until {Name} and Johnny shared an embarrassed look, neither would look back at Simon.
"What? Did you two do something?" He folded his torso so he was casting and even bigger shadow over the two as he awaited an answer.
"Well," {Name} started, "me 'n Johnny might have... gone a bit longer after you went out to talk to Price." He mumbled, finally working up the courage to look his seething mate in the eyes.
"A bit longer? You both know we do this a very specific way that way Johnny doesn't have any calves, we all agreed to wait until we were ready." Simon looked almost... disappointed in the two. Shaking his head as he grumbled something to himself, his face did fall though. Looking more worried than stern.
"Look... it's too late to go back, I'm not mad. A little disappointed that you waited until he was pregnant to tell me. But I'm obviously still going to be here." He sighed, pulling the younger orcas closer to him. Gently rubbing the back of their necks to soothe the obviously bubbling anxiety.
-^-^-
Aftermath:
Joseph chirped happily, floating idly while messing with a crab on the shore until he heard the familiar bellows of his fathers return.
"Daddy!" He screeched, tackling Johnny in a hug who eagerly returned it as {Name} and Simon finished bringing over the leftovers of the polar bear carcass.
"What?! No hug for us? We're the ones who bring you food!" {Name} and Simon both exclaimed in unison, quite pouty for two full grown orcas.
Joseph, the little bugger, only giggled and started to devour as much of the carcass as his tummy could fit.
-^-^-
It's weird, normally I hate the idea of having children but this idea wouldn't leave me alone.
OH YEAH! Hey, hey, did you get the reference? Joseph? Yeah! Obviously no explanation needed since Ghost's backstory is pretty much the same, just shifted around. So their Joseph is names after his dead nephew for those who didn't know. :)
It came out a lot better than I hoped, also thank you to everyone who got my last posts to over 300 notes!! That's flipping(hehe) crazy!
Also I forget a lot of tags so those who repost with more tags, I thank you 🙏
-^-^-
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akoyaxs · 4 months
Note
Hi! Could you do a Ao’nung x Sully Reader where Ao’nung gets heat stroke or something and kind of brushes it off and is stubborn about it (cause he doesn’t really seem like the kind to ask for help-) but Reader takes care of him anyways. Thank you!!
✮ Pairing: Aonung x fem!metkayina!tsakarem reader (betrothed but not in love YET)
✮ Tags: oneshot, injury, FLUFF
✮ Word Count: 1.8k
Sweet Anon, I hope you enjoy this story 💗
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You knew something was wrong when Aonung didn’t have that stupid cocky grin always plastered to his face, no taunting gleam in those bright eyes, no entitled comments rolling from his mouth like it was his birthright (which in some ways it was, but you’d never admit that).
He had stumbled into the healing marui you occupied when helping Ronal out as Tsakarem, completely oblivious to you seated on the floor, crushing some herbs in the cool shade from the entrance. You frowned first, fully intending on asking him what he was doing bothering you right now when he knows full well his mother isn’t in here, before it occurs to you that he mustn’t know you’re in here either.
Usually, he spots you with that piercing gaze reserved only for you, just so he can come over to make some snarky comment or boast about his latest accomplishment you hardly pay attention to. Which makes it extremely odd he hadn’t noticed you in your pretty obvious spot on the floor, staring at him with confused annoyance as he rifles carelessly through the boxes and storage of herbs you had just organised.
“Can I help you,” you ask with a sigh. You were well used to Aonung’s entitled take on life, but this was a whole new level of brazen cockiness to storm into your healing marui and make a complete mess.
But to your surprise, Aonung flinches back, apparently actually not having realised you were right in front of him, face twisted in a slight grimace, which he tries to hide with a scowl.
“Yes, actually,” he grunts, teeth grinding slightly as he straightens up. You notice the muscles in his neck tighten as he winces again. “Where is all your stupid healing shit?”
“In this marui..?” you point out, getting increasingly confused, and now slightly unnerved. “You need to be more specific. What do you need help w-”
“I don’t need help,” Aonung says tensely through gritted teeth, and your frown deepens. “Just- where is all your stuff?”
He gives an irritated flick of his hand as he turns towards you, accidentally knocking over a box of herbs you collected this morning, all of them spilling and mingling out of their neat selections onto the woven floor.
This is how it usually was with Aonung. Since the two of you became betrothed, you had tried to make reason with him, but by this point you had resigned yourself to the fact that your future mate was a complete and utter skxawng. Trying your best to fight down the pained, annoyed shout you were longing to berate him with, you take a deep breath and lightly tug at his arm.
“Sit, Aonung,” you sigh, leading him to the floor. When he impatiently tries to tug himself free, you tighten your grip and give him a stern look.
“Do you know who I-”
“Yes I am very aware who you are Aonung,” you roll your eyes, pushing down on his head to try and get him to sit, to no avail given his ridiculous size. “But this is my marui where I heal, so no matter who your parents are or if you’re going to lead in the future, I won’t be tolerating bumbling skxawngs with anger issues breaking my stuff.”
Aonung huffs in disbelief and you’re sure he’s about to make some comment that one day you’ll share as mates, blah blah blah, but finally to your surprise, he obliges and sits cross-legged on your woven mat for your patients, and you sigh with relief.
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” you say, patting his head like a good little boy and kneeling in front of him. “Now what’s wrong.”
“Nothing,” he grumbles, not meeting your gaze and scowling.
“Right,” you raise your brows. “So I guess I’ll just let you sulk on my floor then.”
“Perfect, I don’t need you bothering your pretty little he- HEY!”
You suck in a sharp gasp, ignoring Aonung’s indignance that you distracted him to try and discern the issue, and his ears flatten back against his head. Half of his side, stretching painfully from his waist and up along his ribcage is scraped with the unmistakable barb of the outer-reef coral, and there’s a deep bite mark in the flesh of his left arm. Instantly, your gaze flicks up to Aonung, to find him already watching your face closely.
“You went hunting outside the reef alone? Again?”
“Eywa,” Aonung says sullenly. “I’m not a little boy, I can take care of myself.”
“Clearly not,” you whisper, eyes raking once more over the scrapes. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”
“I didn’t know you were in here,” Aonung hisses, teeth gritted once more. “If I knew you’d be here and bothering me, I never would have come. I can just as easily leave-”
“No!” you say quickly, grabbing his arm to keep him still. “I’m sorry. Just let me help you.”
Aonung blinks, the words he’d been about to utter dying on his tongue at your offer, before his gaze flicks down to his arm held in your gentle, smaller hands. Instantly, for fear of being yelled at for touching the precious prince, your fingers loosen, and your hand drops away, face flushing.
“I just mean,” you correct, clearing your throat and cursing the blush on your cheeks, “that it wouldn’t be right of me to let you leave like this, particularly with you being… who you are. Just… please stay still Aonung.”
To your surprise, he blinks back, still looking a little disorientated which you quickly write off as a side effect of his injury. With a small sigh of relief and a shy, encouraging smile, you stand up and gather some herbs and ointments, mashing them in a large round shell before kneeling back in front of him.
“This may sting a little,” you say gently, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder to get a good look at his injuries. All he returns is a curt nod, muscles tense under your fingers as your face peers around his body.
It’s a tedious process, wiping and dabbing the scrapes with a cool damp cloth, tentatively smearing the paste over them before blowing lightly on it. Despite all your determined efforts to be overwhelmingly gentle – you are weary of the fit he might throw if you accidentally hurt him – Aonung doesn’t complain or wince or hardly even bat an eye, and you’re ever grateful for it.
However, it is a tense ordeal. Every light brush of your fingers against his warm muscled body makes his jaw clench. Every infinitesimal flex of your hand on his shoulder as you lean and shift to treat him makes the muscles in his neck strain somewhat, as though he’s fighting the urge to break away from you. Every cool breath of yours fanning across his skin has his eyes narrowing and widening in a laboured almost-panic.
You’re almost scared to speak (though you don’t know what you would say), terrified to break this strained, stretched silence, but also very aware of every movement, noise, and flinch in said quiet. You settle on finally speaking; at least that way you aren’t flinching every time you accidentally brush against him.
“Are you okay?” you ask quietly. “Is this not-”
“It’s fine,” Aonung says tersely, cutting you off with blunt coldness, and you feel yourself wincing inwardly at how stupid you sound right now.
“Right,” you mutter under your breath, aspirating the t and rolling your eyes. You duck your head back down and continue in your work, praying to Eywa he doesn’t notice the flush of your cheeks as you heal him.
Finally, his side is finished, and you take his arm in your hands to study it. It must be an akula bite, given the sheer terrifying size of it, and as you slowly dab the injury, Aonung finally cracks, letting a tiny wince and an almost silent hiss escape from his stony façade.
“Sorry,” you mumble, but Aonung just shakes his head, grits his teeth, and you continue.
It’s obvious this wound is deep, excruciating even, but Aonung stares straight ahead throughout your dabbing and smearing and blowing until you can finally wrap a bandage around it and clear your stuff away. You pour him a cup of soothing tea as he waits somewhat patiently for you to address him, maybe even dismiss him. His newfound obedience is strange, and you find yourself smiling at the sight of him sitting cross-legged and grouchy like a little boy who scraped his knee.
“You should stop hunting alone outside the reef,” you say quietly, back turned to him as you rinse out the paste and blood sodden cloth. “I don’t want you getting hurt again.”
Aonung is silent for a moment and you highly suspect he’s rolling his eyes or maybe even preparing himself for yet another entitled monologue on his great status and disregard for authority and yada yada yada, but strangely, you feel him shift behind you with an amused, “Yes ma’am.”
“I’m serious,” you huff, chucking the towel down and turning to glare at him. The amused look on his face slides off at the evident concern on your face, and you sigh. “You have to stop getting injured, Aonung.”
He blinks in surprise, before reaching out to tug you closer. He’s strong enough – even with his injury – to pull you alone, but you find yourself obliging and coming to sit beside him.
“Well, I’m lucky to have you to fix me up,” he comments, smirking slightly and tucking your hair back.
“Not if you keep acting like an absolute skxawng every time I try and help you,” you counter, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you still, letting Aonung’s hand tucking away your hair fall gently to stroke your cheek fondly.
“I’m sorry syulang,” he whispers, a small furrow forming between his brows. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”
“I wasn’t,” you lie. “You were bothering me.”
Aonung laughs lightly, but as his face trails nearer to yours, you still don’t pull away.
“Is that so?” he asks, face inches from yours. You don’t answer. It’s only when his lips are practically breaths away from brushing against your own when you pull back and frown at him.
“Heal first skxawng,” you grin at his offended, shocked expression. “Then we’ll see what happens.”
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༊ Taglist:
@hadesbabygurl @wavesarchive @kqlopsia @tadomikiku @ntymavtr @mommyanddadskiller @thehoneymushroomhealer @tsireyax @integers @tiyawnyana @whatevenisagrapefruit @oakbuggy @sunsetviper @blue-slxt @simplyawh0re@yootvi @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @vminlvxr @elegantfankidsoul
😘
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kittievampire · 1 year
Note
Could you maybe make a short fic of M/C plus yandere (preferably, Mammon) where at first it's non-consensual, but as the time goes on she gets manipulated into thinking it's all for love? I also think he should baby-trap her and do all kinds of shit to force her to stay with him.
Oh, my darling, of course!
I've been dabbling in the yandere smut side of the Obey Me fandom and HOLY SHIT it's INTENSE
Especially for my first love, Mammon-sama, I'll do anything for my sweet greedy boy 🥺🥺🥺
Lemme see what I have in my bag, my dear~
Click here if you wanna request!
Mine
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Warnings: Dark Themes, Slight Gore (if you squint), Violence, Murder, Manipulation, Obsession, Yandere! Mammon x Reader, Dom! Mammon x Sub! Reader, Virgin! Reader, Cursing, Panty Stealing, Masturbation, Smut, Breeding Kink, Teasing, Baby-Trapping, Creampie, Reader gets gagged, Mating press, Non-Con/Rape to Dub-Con
🚨READ THE WARNINGS CAREFULLY AND PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED ANY TAGS🚨
Enjoy.
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Honestly, he couldn't tell you when it all started.
Probably when you'd first gotten here and he was told that he would be responsible for taking care of you. Yes, that sounds right.
It was then that these emotions started. These feelings toward you, the compulsive need to be by your side at every waking hour of the day. Hell, you'd have to kick him out of your room most nights just to get some privacy.
You were just so perfect.
Something about the way you spoke, the way you handled things, the way you carried yourself. He couldn't help but love all of it. All of you. He'd memorized every little thing you'd shared with him throughout the time you'd been in the Devildom, noticing whenever you cut your hair by even an inch or the slightest shift in your attitude to know when you were upset.
And when you were upset, he always needed to know why.
So he could get rid of your problem, of course.
If you were upset with one of his brothers, he'd go speak with them about it (as long as it's not Lucifer), if you were upset over failing to comprehend something mathematical, he'd explain it to you in five different ways to try and help, and if you were upset with someone the two of you don't consider close friends, he'd console you.
There was this one time, however, when consoling you wasn't enough. Not for him, at least. The first time these thoughts became more aggressive and obsessive. The first time he became truly dangerous.
_
Mammon narrowed his eyes at you, pulling his shades off so he could see you properly. "He did what?" He asked. It was more like he was demanding you to repeat what you said.
You hesitated for a moment before clasping your hands together and smiling. "He broke my D.D.D. and cursed me out for being a human." You sighed, shaking your head in disappointment. "It's alright, though. I'll ask Lucifer if I can get a replacement."
Mammon really only paid attention to the first sentence. He bit down on the arms of the shades in his hand and scoffed. "See, this is why ya should just keep someone around. As the Great Mammon, I shouldn't be botherin' myself with taking care of ya." He extended his hand, holding out an index finger so you couldn't interrupt him. "But, because ya really need it, I'll go ahead and be your personal bodyguard or whatever." He huffed out, a light blush forming on his cheeks.
You furrowed your brows. "Oh, thanks, Mammon, but I really don't want to bother you with this kind of thing. I really don't need 24-hour protection, I just really wish people like him would learn from their mistakes."
Oh, you were so forgiving. He couldn't help the way his heart pounded against his chest at the way you spoke so kindly about the bastard who broke your property.
He should kill him.
Mammon flinched, dropping his shades and freezing in place at the idea.
Something you need to know about Mammon is that he's not really a violent guy. Of course, he acts like a relatively tough guy, and his title as the second strongest sin in the Devildom wasn't just given to him because the king was feeling generous. He just never resorted to violence immediately, it wasn't the Mammon Way.
Now, though, there was another factor to account for in this equation of his.
You.
While his title made demons fear him enough to where he didn't need to act on any of his anger, he found it very difficult to stop his knuckles from twitching whenever he saw someone you as much as complained about.
However, he'd never thought about murder. At least, not so seriously. This was different. The image that appeared in his head was the demon you were talking about, chained to the back of his car by the neck, and being dragged all around the Devildom. Then, he'd kill him slowly. Maybe set him on fire, too. Yes, that sounded nice.
"Mammon!" You called out, snapping him away from his thoughts. You tilted your head. "Are you okay? You kinda blanked out there." You ask, placing a hand on his cheek to get him to look at you.
Mammon flinches at your touch, a dark blush forming on his cheeks. "O-Oi! I'm alright, human, now get your hand off'a me!" He gently grasped your wrist, shuddering in delight at the feeling of holding you.
You raised a brow, pulling your hand away. "If you say so... Well, Asmodeus wanted me to help him out in Majolish, so I'll head over there. You have a make-up class, don't you?" You ask playfully. Mammon scoffed. "Oh, come on! Ya don't gotta rub it in, MC. Ya jerk." You laughed a little. "That's what you get for skipping classes. I'll see you later, Mammoney."
_
He was there.
The bastard was there.
Mammon was a few seats away from the guy you were talking about earlier. The guy who broke your property and made you upset. He wasn't paying attention to the lecture, no, he was watching the demon. Staring. Glaring.
The scene that presented itself to him before, among many others, appeared in his head. Many of them were at the same levels of gruesome. The thought of getting rid of someone for you was a little nerve-wracking but satisfying nonetheless. It felt right.
After all, he was no longer an angel. And this was a lower demon, a being of impurity. That means that whatever happens to him down here, he deserves it, right?
This is what Mammon tried telling himself when he dragged the large black bag all the way to his room. The only one who saw him was Beelzebub, but the Avatar of Gluttony was busy with takeout, so he didn't really take the time to try and understand the situation.
Mammon was a little relieved that you weren't home to see this. At the same time, though, he did want you to know that he was looking out for you. You should be grateful that the Mammon is so adamant about protecting you!
"Say, ya think she might actually say yes if I ask her out? I dunno if I wanna do it now, but, I mean... Ah, who am I kiddin'? I'll wait a little while longer. It's too soon, don't ya think?" He asked, making another clean cut to the demon's torso.
The demon had stopped thrashing hours ago. There was blood everywhere, but the Avatar of Greed wasn't sloppy, so he'd placed a cheap mat underneath the chair that his classmate was tied to, planning to throw it away later. Even so, he became irritated when he got no response.
"Oi, I'm tryin' to ask for some serious advice. Ain't ya a demon? Why are ya dyin' so fuckin' quick, huh?" He seethed, glaring up at the lifeless expression that the demon before him adopted. He sliced an exposed arterie and scoffed. "Pathetic. I dunno why I bothered asking shit from a bastard like you anyway."
_
He refers to that kill as his "first slip."
Mammon had multiple "slips" after that, all of which he convinced himself were for your sake. Demons were going missing left and right. Of course, you didn't notice, because you were so naive. So oblivious. So cute.
You would never suspect Mammon to be the culprit, right? He was your sweet Mammoney. He'd do anything to keep it that way.
While he was growing to love you, more than he healthily should, he still couldn't build up the courage to talk to you. Confess to you.
You'd better believe he tried though.
The first time he did after he'd taken up his new "hobby" was during passing period at RAD. He had you caged between the wall and his chest, both hands on the wall to stop you from leaving. "Hey, human. I gotta tell you something really important, okay?"
Mammon had made up his mind to tell you then and there. However, now that he was right in front of you, now that he could see the way your expression seemed to glow in his presence, the way it made his heart beat so rapidly, he just... couldn't! "What's up?" You ask dumbly after a few moments of silence. He bit his lip for a moment before sighing. "Uh... Actually, I'll tell ya later. I just remembered I had to go do... Something, I'll cya around, MC." Then, he scurried, leaving you standing there all dumbfounded.
Curse his lack of bravery!
You were just so perfect, he couldn't bare the thought of you rejecting him.
His thoughts were swarming his brain. Thoughts of you. He would think often about how your hands would feel caressing his cheek. How soft your lips would feel against his. How tight your pussy would feel around his cock.
That last bit was, by far, the most popular thought in his head. He'd think about it when he had his hand wrapped around his cock, stroking and bucking his hips into his fist.
He'd imagine you underneath him, moaning and writhing while getting pounded into. The thought of you in such a fucked out state was just so delicious. He wanted you. No, he needed you.
But he still couldn't muster up the courage to tell you how he felt. So, he just settled for the next best thing.
Your panties.
When it was his turn to do laundry for the House of Lamentation's residents, he found a pair of white panties stained at the crotch. He lifted them up a bit closer for inspection and caught a whiff of the scent the pair of panties was emitting.
Your scent, your juices.
Your cum.
It was your cum.
Immediately, he felt himself hunch forward, clutching the nearly drenched panties in his fist as he slammed the door to the laundry room shut. He took a moment to process, a dark blush dusting his face as he held your panties in his shaking hand.
Mammon swallowed the lump of saliva he felt pooling in his mouth, staring at the crotch of your underwear, feeling his pants becoming a little too tight. "Fuck," He muttered out, quickly moving to undo his belt, sloppily pushing down his pants below his crotch, reaching into his boxers and pulling out his cock. Immediately, he started pumping himself, desperation evident when he started to buck his hips into his hand.
He caught another wiff of your scent and groaned, hunching over as he pressed his back against the wall. "MC," He moaned out, loving the way your name sounded rolling off of his tongue. He imagined you calling his name as well.
Whining and writhing underneath him as he pushed your legs apart.
"Fuck, fuckfuckfuck." He slammed his fist against the door, keeping his glazed eyes on your underwear. He imagined entering you. Your warmth would welcome him inside of your pussy and your walls would clench.
If only he had your warmth around him.
Flinching, his gaze shifted over to the clenched fist that was pressing against the door, your white panties being squeezed in his grip. He moved his hand, adjusting the pair of panties so the crotch was easily accessible, pushing it against the tip of his cock.
Mammon hissed when he felt your juices push against him, shuddering at the feeling. You must've put your dirty laundry basket in the laundry room the same day you masturbated. It was still relatively warm, and that was enough to make him imagine how your pussy would feel.
Wrapping your wet panties around his cock, he started bucking his hips, grinding himself against the crotch. He let out small pants and groans at the feeling, his hips beginning to stutter as he felt a knot begin to tighten in his lower stomach.
So good, so good.
He closed his hazy eyes, imagining how you'd start to squirm beneath him as he pounded into you, whining and crying out that you were close to an orgasm. "MC, fuck, baby, you're so fucking good for me," He hissed out. His hips never stopped bucking into your panties. Precum started oozing out of the tip of his cock, and he was smearing it against your underwear. "All mine," He murmured out softly.
The second-born clenched his teeth as his hand gripped the door knob, feeling the knot in his stomach tighten even more. The warmth that your panties provided, the visual in his head, and the sound that he'd imagine you'd made when you came; a mix between a whimper and a moan. It was enough to make his eyes go wide, a stuttered groan escaping his lips as he hunched forward a little.
Thick white ropes shot out of the tip of his cock, landing ontop of the juices that had already stained your panties. He inhaled sharply, covering his mouth as if to save whatever dignity he had left.
Slowly coming down from his high, Mammon panted heavily into his palm, a cheeks red, and vision still blurry from his orgasm. It made him wonder how hard he'd cum if you were there. If it was you wrapped around his cock instead of your panties.
But he'd take what he can get, he wasn't too picky when it came to you.
That's why he started stealing your panties, among other things. When your underwear wasn't enough, small trinkets and pieces of jewelry would go missing, only to be replaced by the Avatar of Greed himself. He loved to see the smile on your face as you looked at him, he loved to hear you thank him for gifting you such things.
You were so cute.
Too cute for your own good.
You mean so much to him. Too much for him to let you go.
He doesn't want you to leave. Ever.
_
Your eyes were always something he admired. He loved staring and getting lost in your gaze, trying to determine exactly which shade of which color painted your irises. He especially loved it when both of you got lost in the others' gaze. Inevitably, one of you would blush and look away.
What he hated was the way you looked at him right now.
Fear was present in your eyes. Tears started to gather on your lower lash line as your bottom lip trembled. "Mammon?"
Normally, he loved it when you said his name. It was like music to his ears, sweet like honey. However, this time, he flinched at the hesitation in your voice.
Of course, he couldn't blame you for being scared.
You'd been waiting in his room, unbeknownst to the white-haired demon, and he walked into his room covered in blood. That, and the horror that was the bloody bags you found in his closet.
His movements were quick. In the blink of an eye, he stood before you, slamming the door shut. He towered over you, the almost-dried blood that had been splattered all over his body was now right in your face. Leather black wings lifted and caged you into the corner by the closet, the leather on his body, as well as his horns becoming more apparent the more you took in his figure. "Ain't anyone taught ya not to go snoopin' around in other people's shit?"
You flinched at his tone. He seemed angry. That's when a tear fell. "Mammon, what the hell was that?" You ask, voice trembling along with your body. The demon before you was in no better state. He was panicking on the inside, trying desperately to form an explanation in his head. This caused him to stare intensely at you, eyes bloodshot, bat-like wings flapping gently beside you.
"S'just some of the trash that bothered ya, Treasure." Mammon's voice shifted from frightening to sweet, a huge contrast to his bloodied and demonic appearance. The new nickname made you shiver. Under other circumstances, you would've loved the fact that he'd given you a nickname, but you were too terrified. The nickname sounded so wrong to you. So twisted. "Most of them either acted out of line around ya, but some actually thought they had a chance!" He smiled, letting out a huff of amusement. "As if those lesser demons had the right to even look in your direction." He took a step forward, and you took a step back, your back now pressed against the wall.
This made Mammon frown a bit, bat wings flapping in slight irritation and confusion. "Why're ya backin' away from me, Treasure? I thought that... I thought that you'd be happy to know that they're gone," One hand pressed against the wall behind you while the other made it's way to your hip. "Aren't ya happy that they're not in our way anymore?" He tucked a few strands of hair behind your ear.
"Our?" You repeated. "What are you talking about our, Mammon?" He sighed, the hand on your hip traveling down to caress your thigh. "Us, Treasure. Our relationship, our love."
You closed your eyes tightly when he leaned in, lips brushing against your cheek as his voice dropped in volume. "Don't you love me, MC?" He asked softly, feigning an almost hurt voice.
You allowed a few more tears to fall as you pressed your palms against his chest. While it was true, you did love him very deeply, you just couldn't condone this. You weren't okay with this! Killing people for someone else isn't love!
Right?
"Mammon, you can't... You don't do this kind of thing for love," You said, hands trembling against him. His hand moved from the wall to grasp yours, clenching your fingers tight as he let a shiver run down his spine. He let out a deep sigh in bliss, feeling his cock twitch in his pants from your touch. "MC, Treasure, I love ya. I love ya so much." He then gripped your wrist, pushing your hand downward.
You flinched when your hand reached the bulge in his pants, fingers gently tracing the outline of his cock. "Baby, look at what ya do to me." He softly breathed out, turning your hand to push your palm against his hard on, his other hand gripping your thigh as he started bucking his hips into your hand. "MC, I love ya. I just wanted to make ya feel better," He looked down at you, the hand squeezing your thigh being used to lift up your chin so your eyes could meet his. "I got rid of the trash that was botherin' ya, babe."
You shook your head, trying to pull your hand away from his pants. Mammon's grip only tightened, an odd feeling beginning to pool in your gut. "Mammon, this isn't how you- Mmh!" He cut you off, leaning forward to capture your lips in a kiss. Your lips were so soft, he couldn't hold back the moan that escaped him as he started moving his lips against yours. His teeth started nibbling your bottom lip to ask for entry. When you tried to pull away from him, he let out a scoff, the hand that was on your chin moving to slap your thigh.
You opened your mouth to let out a gasp, only for Mammon's tongue to invade your mouth. He bucked his hips into your hand once more, his tongue exploring your mouth and burning your taste into his memory.
He moved his hands, pulling away from the heated kiss so his lust-filled eyes could meet yours. "That's right... I guess I should be showin' ya how much ya mean to me in other ways, huh?"
_
Mammon had pushed you onto his bed, climbing on top of you and capturing your lips in another hot kiss as he started to tug your clothes off. He was truly a being of pure greed, he couldn't get enough of you. He wanted more. And he wanted more now.
You pulled away as soon as you felt your breasts come into contact with the rather chilly air and threw your arms over your chest. "Mammon, wait, please! I don't want this!" You whimpered, tears beginning to stain your cheeks.
Mammon leaned in, one hand hooking around your skirt as he kissed you on the forehead. "But you love me, don't you, MC? I'll treat ya right, I promise." He brought a hand up to gently grasp your wrist, bringing your hand up to his lips and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "I love ya so much, MC. Everything I do's for you, Treasure. The way I feel about ya, it makes me do crazy things," He murmured softly against your hand. "Please don't deny me."
His tone of voice made you think that maybe he was telling the truth, that maybe he did love you deeply, and that was why he went so far. Maybe this wasn't so bad.
No!
You snapped out of your hazy love-drunk mindset, realizing that the now-dried blood was still splattered all over him. It was someone else's blood. Maybe they were innocent! Well, they weren't if they were down here, but still! They didn't do anything to warrant such acts of violence.
With a swift motion, he yanked down your RAD skirt and panties, eyes shifting down to catch a glimpse of you. You tried to close your legs, but Mammon had managed to catch both of your plush thighs in his grip, pulling them apart and closer to him. Your ass was now on his lap, and your pussy was closer to his waist. He smiled at you, almost tauntingly. "None of that, baby," He pulled you closer to him, your pussy now a few mere inches from his face. Mammon took in the sweet aroma you gave off, letting out a deep sigh in bliss. This was so much better than your panties.
Suddenly, the pact mark on the back of your hand glowed a bright yellow. "Mammon, sto-"
He was faster.
Before you could finish your command, Mammon had torn a piece of fabric from your teal RAD under-blouse, pushing it against your lips to silence you. "Naughty girl." His voice dropped an octave as he glared at you. You had practically been folding in half with how close your knees were to your shoulders. The Avatar of Greed then adjusted the fabric in your mouth, pulling on the sides and tying it in a tight knot around your mouth. "I didn't want to gag ya, sweetheart," He cooed, shifting himself into his former position: where your pussy was a few inches from his mouth and your thighs were in his hands. "But ya just had to be such a brat. Playin' hard to get can get annoyin', ya know that?" His tongue lulled out of his mouth. He maintained eye contact with you as he lowered his face, dipping his tongue into your sopping heat and tracing the line of your slit. You moaned into the makeshift gag, arms trembling as one hand gripped the sheets, the other reaching behind your head to try and untie the gag.
Mammon flicked his tongue against the bundle of nerves that rested above your slit, smiling at the way you squirmed and whined. You knew this was wrong. He was a demon, and you were okay with that, but now you found out that he was a killer as well? No, you couldn't be okay with this. You shouldn't be okay with this.
But it feels so good.
You threw your head back and let out a muffled cry as his mouth latched on to your opening, thrusting his tongue into your heat. Your walls clenched around his tongue, and he let out a moan in response. He wondered how tight you'd be around his cock if you were this tight around his tongue. It made him think that perhaps you hadn't had anything inside of this pretty little hole of yours.
Wait.
Mammon pulled away from your pussy, a mix of his saliva and your juices dribbling down his chin. "MC, are you a virgin?" He asked softly, gold and blue eyes piercing through yours.
You looked up at him through tear-filled eyes and nodded your head slowly. The sound of wings flapping rapidly filled your ears, which made your eyes screw shut.
He'd be the first to touch you, the first to defile you. He was your first demon, now he'll truly be your first man. "Oh, Treasure." He lowered your body almost completely onto the bed, and your eyes shot wide open when you heard him fumbling with his belt.
You looked down to see his cock, flushed and hard, resting on top of your crotch.
He was huge.
Where he sat between your legs, his cock reached just above your navel. "M'sorry," He said softly, grasping his cock and stroking it a few times. "I can't wait any longer, Treasure. I have to have you before anyone else can."
You froze for a moment, realizing what he meant. You should've shaken your head or done something to deny him, to stop him.
But you didn't want to stop. You wanted to keep going. You wanted him to ravish your pussy, love you until he withers away. You pushed your head against the pillow, lifting your hands to grip the sheets beside your head, and spreading your legs open a little more.
"That's my girl," He cooed, pressing the blunt tip of his cock against your hole. You closed your eyes once more, trying to concentrate on breathing as he pushed himself into you. He was slow and sweet, pressing kisses to your neck. "Calm down, Treasure, I don't wanna hurt ya." His voice, so soft, so sweet, made you forget completely about why you were so against this at first.
Mammon grunted at how tight you were, his eyes glazed over. He was trying so hard to hold himself back. You were just so fucking tight. He let out a shaky breath, one hand going down to caress your thigh. "Loosen up, Doll," He cooed once more, clenching his teeth. He was so close to bottoming out, but your hole continued to deny him.
Tears had fallen down your face, staining your cheeks and the fabric that gagged you. You were in an entire different state of mind. The stretch hurt, but knowing that it was Mammon stretching out your cunt made your body feel more at ease.
When he shoved the last few inches of his cock inside of you, you couldn't hold back the muffled wail that escaped your throat. Finally, he was sheathed inside of you. His balls were rested against your plush thighs, and his tip pushed against your cervix.
"Fuck!" Mammon grunted out, burying his face into the crook of your neck. Your chest rose and fell as your breathing quickened. You tried so hard to focus on breathing, focus on calming down so it'd be less uncomfortable for you.
Mammon stilled, and you took that as a sign of him waiting for you to signal him to move. He wanted to take off the gag and hear your beautiful moans, but he couldn't risk you using your pact to stop him. He couldn't risk losing the chance to share his love with you.
While he was in his own head, he failed to notice your squirms and whines, replacing the pleas that you'd let out if you weren't gagged. However, his lack of movement made you impatient, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, grinding the tip of his cock against your the spot that made you see stars. Mammon's breathing hitched, immediately gripping your hips with his hands and looking up at you with a shocked expression.
Then, the surprised look turned into a smug one. "Just can't get enough'a me, can ya?" He teased, dragging his hips backward. You could feel him moving and thought he was pulling out of you. You were about to whine in protest, but you got the air knocked out of your lungs as he slammed into you, his cock pushing roughly against that same exact spot. He started thrusting into you, looking down at your pussy to see how well it swallows his cock, as well as how much of your juices can be seen (and heard). "You're like a waterfall down there, MC. I knew ya loved me, I knew it! All those demons weren't a waste of time after all!" He exclaimed excitedly, picking up the pace to align with the hype of his voice.
Your eyes rolled back as you felt him repeatedly pound into you, balls slapping against the plush of your thighs at his deep and quick thrusts. "So good! So good for me, baby," He threw his head back, letting out a groan as he felt you squeezing the hell out of his length.
Suddenly, he pulled the fabric from your lips so it rested around your neck. "Mammon!" You cried out immediately. He only grunted in response and grabbed the back of your thighs, pushing them up toward you so your knees were inches from your shoulders. "Fuck, Treasure, so— mMmh!— T-Tight!" He huffed out, mind feeling a bit hazy.
All he could think of was you. How much he loved you, how much he wanted to be with you. He wanted so badly for you to love him too. Now that he had you, now that he deflowered you, the Avatar of Greed couldn't stop there. He wanted more. And, in his sin, will he indulge.
If he got you pregnant, you wouldn't leave. You'd be attached to him no matter what.
The thought made his cock twitch and his hips stutter for a moment before regaining a rhythm, albeit faster than the one he'd adopted prior.
"M'gonna make sure—" He adjusted your legs in his grip— "You never even think 'bout leavin' me!" Mammon growled out, feeling the familiar knot in his lower abdomen beginning to form. By the way your walls were clenching so tightly around him, he could tell that you were almost at your peak too. "Gonna make you a mama," He purred out, rocking his hips into yours.
Your eyes widened at this, gripping the sheets even harder as you cried out. "Mammon! P-Pull o-out!" Your whimpers fell upon deaf ears. That, or ears that only heard what they wanted to. "You wanna have my baby, MC? Hm?" He asked, voice as sweet as vanilla, thrusts as sharp and hard as a blade. "Can't wait to—" He hissed as your walls constricted around him once more— "See the look on their faces! When they see you," Mammon chuckled darkly at the thought, greed, love, and obsession overwhelming his senses. "They'll see that you're all mine! I'll kill whoever gets in the way or disagrees! You're mine, MC!" One final thrust to that sweet spot of yours and you cum hard with a cry of his name, legs trembling in his grip.
Mammon couldn't stop. He couldn't stop going until he filled you up, painted your walls with his seed, and permanently intertwined your fates. "Mine! Mine, mine, mine! All mine! Only mine!" He growled out, burying himself deep into the warmth of your cunt and spilling his seed inside of you. He let out a lewd groan, rocking his hips gently to ride out his orgasm as much as possible.
Once the both of you came down from your highs, he pulled out of you, pressing small kisses to your tear-stained face. He lowered your legs to put you in a more comfortable position, wings and horns fading away as he pulled you flush to his chest.
In your exhausted state, you weren't able to think properly. "I t-told you... To... What if I... Get..." You muttered out, eyelids feeling heavy.
Mammon pressed a soft and warm kiss to your lips, one filled with love and care. "Shhh, sleep, Treasure. Ya did so good for me."
Maybe it was the way his words were sweet and stuck to you like honey. Maybe it was the way that he expressed so many times during this exchange that he truly did love you.
Whatever it was, there wasn't a doubt in your mind that the Avatar of Greed wanted you out of everything else in the world. Every valuable item, every treasure to be found, all he'd be willing to give up just for you.
He'd give for you, but he'd also take for you.
The lives of the demons he'd taken so far couldn't be ignored. At least, you shouldn't have ignored it. But he did it all for you. All because he just wanted you to notice him, to love him, and only him.
Eventually, you'd become accustomed to the blood on his clothes, the protectiveness, the obsession with keeping you close to him even though you never planned on leaving.
You didn't need anything else. You didn't want anything else.
All you needed was your first man.
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This was fun to write, I hope you greedy-boi lovers enjoyed this!
My friend looked at the tags over my shoulder and said "Why are you like this?"
Thanks for requesting, I hope you enjoyed this, anon!
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dotster001 · 1 year
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Leviathan, the Accidental Yandere
Summary:Levi x gn!reader. Levi forgets there are differences between humans and demons when he attempts to court you.
CW:Levi seems like a Yan! But it's just a misunderstanding. Read at your own risk.
A/N: I love me a good spooky Yan fic, but I was thinking about the funny side of some of them, where it might just be a cultural thing. Also, my tag list is still packed, so hopefully you guys see this.
"Question?" Levi said, looking a little flustered.
Satan looked up from his book, and Asmo looked up from doing Belphie's nails.
"Yeah?" Asmo asked.
"Um.. so you three know humans the best, so how long is it supposed to take before they stop screaming when you begin courting them?" He startled a moment, before adding, "Hypothetically, of course."
Satan and Asmo shared a confused look, but Belphie seemed to understand exactly. He groaned, and slouched back in his chair.
"Levi, if we go in your room, right now, are we going to find Y/N in a cage, or chained to something?"
"Yes."
"Father give me strength," Belphie groaned. "You know humans are a completely different species right? Which means they have different courtship rituals? Please tell me you read one of the millions of books by succubi and incubi who researched how to mix the courting rituals, right?"
Levi's face turned a shade of bright pink.
"I, uh, didn't think about it…"
"Levi!" Asmo exclaimed. 
"So, I did bad?"
"Just a little," Satan said with a laugh. "Or a lot."
"Humans only have free will and freedom going for them. So chaining them down is seen as an act of aggression,"Belphie groaned tiredly.
"Wow, if you had read a book about how to care for and keep humans as pets, it would have gone better. Even if those books are outdated," Satan laughed even harder.
"It's not funny," Levi pouted.
"It's a little funny," Asmo said with a giggle.
"Well, we better let Y/N out, and explain what happened," Satan said, the trio standing up, and following Levi to his room.
When Satan opened the door, he was immediately greeted by a Ruri Chan body pillow being thrown at his head.
"Y/N! Please don't hit me, I just did my hair!" Asmo cried.
"Fuck, shit, I thought you were…Levi!" You saw Levi standing behind the trio, and made to grab something else to throw.
"Let me the fuck out!"
"Y/N, it's okay! We're here to unlock you, but we need to tell you something first, then Levi is gonna apologize," Asmo said.
"I don't want to hear it."
"Trust me, you do," Satan smirked.
You sat down with a huff, the chain around your ankle jingling angrily.
Belphie sat down next to you, before laying his head on your lap.
"So I know it's easy to forget, cause we're so loveable, but we are two different species. And demonic courtship rituals are a little different. For example, it is common for a higher caliber demon to lock up their potential lower level mate, and then to bring presents and spoils of their hunts to prove that they can protect them."
"The fuck-"
"Levi being one of the 10 most powerful demons in the Devildom, is always going to be the one who is supposed to prove himself. So, he put the chain on your ankle, and was going to bring you gifts and food to prove himself a worthy mate of defending you."
He paused to let you take in the information. Your face went through a roller coaster of emotions, before you simply said,
"Huh."
"Now, if Levi was smarter, he would have researched humans before hand, and would have informed you about demonic culture, and maybe you could have come to a middle ground, where both of your cultures were respected, but also you felt safe," Satan said pointedly.
"Huh."
Asmo nudged Levi.
"I, um, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you or make you think I was gonna hurt you," Levi's eyes started tearing up, "I'd never hurt my Henry, I'm so sorry, I bet you just hate me now." 
Levi threw the key to the chain at your feet, then started sobbing into Satan's shoulder.
You groaned before unlocking the chain and wrapping your arms around him.
"I don't hate you Levi. And we can definitely talk about ways to make us both comfortable, but, dear God, please make sure I know thoroughly about something demonic before throwing me to the wolves next time? I thought you were gonna kill me or something."
"You don't hate me?" He sniffled, and looked at you, his violet eyes filling with hope.
"No Levi, I literally told you yesterday how much I love you! You just shook me up a little bit!" You nuzzled your nose against his.
"Okay, I'll get rid of the chains, the cage, and the handcuffs…"
Satan quickly covered Asmo's mouth.
"...And we'll talk about how you'd be comfortable."
"Literally, Levi, how about we just watch a movie? That sounds really nice right now,"  you hummed.
"Okay, Henry, that sounds amazing," he said with a smile.
You both left the room holding hands, and Satan uncovered Asmo's mouth.
"Keep the handcuffs!" He blurted.
"Aw, Asmo," Belphie purred, "they're already gone."
Satan and Belphie laughed, and Asmo pouted.
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It's Who We Have | Part Four
Summary: After Nut's funeral, Billy and his estranged friend share some choice words | Word Count: 3.7k~ | Warnings below the cut!
General Taglist | Billy Washington Masterlist | Series Masterlist
Warnings: language, mentions of neglect, mentions of bullying and sexual assault, islamophobia
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“Take those fucking sunglasses off, you look like a prick.”
Billy winced when he knocked his right hand, bandaged and bloody, holding it close to his body, the other pulling the sunglasses that Paddy hated so much off his face.
“Why didn't you call your sister?”
Billy scoffed, “Like I'm gonna be the first to tell her. She'll find out in her own time.”
Paddy simply sighed from behind the steering wheel, his fingers twitching with the need to say something, but unsure how.
“A fucking Halal butchers? Who put you up to do that?”
Now it was Billy's turn to sigh, “nobody.”
“Oh yeah? Nothing to do with these English Flag-fucking-Crusaders, whatever they're called.”
“Listen mate, please, I don't need this right now.”
Paddy simply let out a frustrated breath, concentrating on now tailgating the car in front of him. Billy slumped in the passenger seat of his friend's car, feeling that Paddy amongst the little remaining group of friends, would be the least judgemental.
Turns out that wasn't true.
Billy resisted to cringe when he heard Paddy's voice on the other line when he'd rung him from the police station, hoping at least that he felt worse than he looked. And he looked pretty shit.
He thought, Lana wouldn't be faring much better.
He could feel the deep, dark judgement and anger seeping off Paddy, in the way he gripped the gearstick and his grunts of annoyance at usual menial things.
God fucking help him if she ever found out.
She'd pretend she didn't want to kill him, but would work on a way to do it in her head before she ever said it.
If he was being honest with himself. He'd had far too much (albeit not as much as Lana) and was angry, upset, annoyed. And he wasn't even sure what at.
At the time, it was easy to be annoyed at anything.
Just so happens the Halal butchers was right in front of him.
“Not told your sister then?” Paddy prodded whilst stopped at a red light.
Paddy was usually so sing-songy in the way he spoke, something carried down through his Irish family. And though he was technically the first of his generation to be born in England, the few times Billy and their mates had gone down to his for drinks, you’d be forgiven for thinking you were right back in the bustling centre of Londonderry, with the statue of Mary placed ceremoniously on the mantelpiece, as well as every shelf in every bedroom.
Not that Paddy himself would describe himself as religious.
Since meeting him in the first year of College, Billy had always tagged him a sort of ‘class clown’. It was easy to laugh when Paddy was around. And whether he meant to or not, he was just funny. 
But here, sat beside him, being interrogated very much like he had felt the night before by the police officers who’d picked him up, that aloof, silliness that Paddy most often wore, was nowhere to be found. 
“Not yet,” Billy answered simply, trying not to fiddle with the damp bandages around his hand. “You gonna?”
Billy shrugged, feeling as if this were only the beginning of the questions that he was likely to get from those closest around him. 
And Paddy need not even say what was on his mind, his fallen expression of disappointment was enough as he pulled up beside Billy’s flat and pulled the handbrake up. 
“Get out my fucking car.”
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The door opened a good ten seconds after she’d knocked, and when Libby’s bright, blonde hair appeared in the doorway, a phone in one hand, her friend looked nothing short of shocked.
“Come in, just on FaceTime with Ami,” she muttered, ushering her in without question and closing the door, “No, no, I’m still here, carry on.”
“So anyway, this old Chinese lady is like ‘oh my god, I love your hair, you’re so lucky’ but she wouldn’t stop fucking touching me!”
She couldn’t help but grin as she heard Ami’s ramblings over the phone and Libby’s dramatic replies, all while they filed into the kitchen to put the kettle on.
“Oh dear, Ami, however will you survive. There’s worse things than people touching your hair.”
“Not fucking much,” Ami answered with a huff, “anyway I’ve gotta go. Hi and bye, misery-guts!”
Libby snickered and turned her phone so that she could at least wave goodbye on the camera. To which she gave halfway between a playful smile and a grimace, and stuck two fingers up at her instead.
Once Libby hung up she snorted, “sarky bitch. Milk, no sugar?”
She nodded, “Yup, please. As long as you’re not too busy acting like a proper sister-in-law.”
Libby scoffed, handing one of her Emma Bridgewater mugs to her and leant back against the kitchen counter, “Abi has yet to pop the question yet, friendo.”
She hummed a laugh, tapping her fingernails against the mug.
“So…you saw him.”
“Unfortunately, yes. At the wake…”
“Jesus Christ. Billy there?”
She huffed a mirthless laugh again, “Unfortunately yes again. Billy punched him in the face.”
Libby cocked her head, a sort of worried grimace on her face, “Cute, I guess? Or stupid.”
The tea burned her tongue, but she was eager to do something to occupy herself, otherwise her thoughts would, “Probably a bit of both.”
“What is the deal with you and Billy?”
There it was. The golden question. An answer she’d like to know herself. 
She sighed, “Libs-”
“I mean, you two used to be thick as thieves and then bam suddenly he can’t talk about you anymore. And now that you’re back, which I love by the way, it’s like whenever he sees you he sees a fucking…ghost or something.”
Suddenly Libby’s bright eyes seem much too intense, and she has to look between her feet to get a grip of herself, sighing as she taps her fingertips on the mug of tea she holds.
“Listen I know he’s not always been there for you in the way you needed-”
“It’s not- I don’t know. I always had this feeling like…he didn’t really like me, just tolerated me.”
She doesn't need to look back up at her friend to know there's a sad expression there. And the moment is so utterly quiet, that she can hear the neighbour next door mowing their lawn, both the smell and haze of fresh grass drifting lazily through the air.
It reminded her of Cranstead Fields.
Fuck, why did everything have to circle back to him.
“Billy is a lot of things. Cruel is not one of them,” Libs sighed, “maybe just stupid.”
When they both gave an exhausted and yet relieved laugh, the tension somewhat shifted.
“I love him, Libs. I don't know if I should, but I do.”
Her friend opened her mouth, about to reply or add something. But her lips clamped shut immediately.
“God, you're both insufferable,” Libs laughed, crossing her arms, “you two need to be adults and talk it out. Or do some therapy on the NHS, I know that really helped you.”
She rolled her eyes, “knowing my luck I’d have fucking Becky as my therapist. If that happens I'm face timing you from the edge of a bridge before I jump off.”
“Dramatic.”
“And don't mummy me, doesn't suit you.”
“Suits Abi just fine.”
“Ew, Libs.”
Libby had tried her best to make her feel better, and for that, she was nothing short of grateful. Some good needed to work its way back into her life at the moment. And the way her loving friend deemed fit to lift the mood, with a small glass of white wine, was not such a bad thing either. 
In truth, she can’t help but wonder, that if she’d met Libby while she was at secondary school, she likely would’ve walked right past her. 
Libby had always been popular, not by some maniacal grasp to preteen power, but through her bright, happy smile, stellar sense of humour and ability to make friends with just about anyone. 
If Libby was the explosive, firework-like presence in school, then she was like a ghost, merely living between planes of existence, enough to interact with things and people around her, but not enough to leave any lasting impression.
Or at least that’s what she thought.
They were through the second episode of Gogglebox and nearing the end of the little glass of white when her phone buzzed in her back pocket.
“Hang on, Libs. Lana’s calling me.”
Libs’ head pulled back as if in shock, “what she calling you for?”
She shrugged and pulled the phone to her ear. Lana sounded hurried and stressed, like she was holding too many things in her hands. 
“Sorry to call you like this.”
“No, you’re alright, what’s up?”
“Listen, I know you and Billy aren’t exactly on great terms but do you mind checking on him? I was blackout last night and dunno what happened to him.”
“Uh- yeah, course.”
“Cheers. I’ll ping you his address.”
As soon as she hung up, Libby was instantly wide-eyed and nosy, asking a barrage of questions. All the while she tried to give any vague answer she could, scrolling her contacts for Paddy’s name.
“Jesus Christ, who you calling now?”
She held a finger up, “Hiya, Pad. Yeah I'm alright. Listen, you've not seen Billy about have you? What do you mean why am I asking you, you've still got Billy’s live location from that time he got lost having a piss at the club like two years ago, remember? You're my private investigator.”
She shot Libby a glare when she loudly sipped her wine loudly, to fill the silence.
She furrowed her brows, “when you say don't be mad, it insinuates I'm going to be mad, Patrick.”
Libby watched her friend's face fall, nearly losing grip on her phone held at her ear, and a sudden eerie silence when she heard Paddy's low voice on the other end.
“No, I won't tell him you told me, Lana asked me to go check on him anyway. Cheers, bye.”
She didn't spare Libby a look, her body suddenly pent up and eyes aflame. And her friend knew she meant business when she polished off the last slither of her wine before pulling herself up.
“Well?” Libby asked as she watched her pull on her coat hastily, getting frustrated when the zip wouldn't do up the first time.
“I'll tell you later, just know, I want to fucking kill him.”
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Year 8 seemed to exist in a realm suspended between the innocence of Year 7 and the weighty responsibilities of Year 9, ensnared in the relentless passage of time. School, once brimming with purpose, now felt hollow, as did much else. Yet amidst the drudgery of daily life, the mundane trek home stood out as particularly grating, a constant reminder of the mundanity that had settled in.
Her mother's refusal to heed the school's advice regarding HPV jabs only added to the melancholy of the year. It was Miss Slator, her form tutor, who provided a semblance of maternal care, just as Mr. Thornby had the year before, acting as a paternal figure. Their concern and support, though appreciated, couldn't dispel the sense of disquiet that lingered within her.
The memory of receiving her first HPV jab during lunchtime, accompanied by Miss Slator, was tinged with discomfort, both physical and emotional. The sharp sting in her arm served as a poignant reminder of her vulnerability, exacerbated by the absence of her mother's reassuring presence.
She fiddled with the hem of her skirt, jumping out of her skin when Billy’s bag slumped down on the spot next to her.
“Is it sore?” he asked, huffing down on the bench beside her, looking out at a group of teens playing footie at Cranstead Fields, despite the looming grey cloud hanging above them.
She rolled her eyes, “course it hurts, you twa-ow!”
It was light, and friendly, the way he punched her left arm, the way all the boys had been doing to all the girls at school after their jabs. But it still fucking hurt. 
“Dick.”
Billy smiled boyishly, pulling a bar of chocolate out his coat pocket. 
“That for me?”
He nodded, as if it were obvious, “for being so brave.”
“Don’t be sarky,” she scoffed, smiling albeit gratefully and snatching the chocolate from him. 
She folded it over in her fingers, the bright purple packaging tempting her to eat it now. And she didn’t say it, but she thought she might save it for later, so that she’d be less hungry if her mum chose to not cook any tea.
It was a sad thought to have, that she might rely on it.
“How is safeguarding,” he asked calmly, not reacting when her wide, panic-stricken eyes turned to him. 
“How-”
“Saw you in Mr Healy’s office,” he interjects, pushing the blonde strands of hair off his forehead, waiting for her to say something. 
Billy was almost disappointed at her response. 
The soft glaze of her eyes, wide and embarrassed, but near longing to lift the weight off her conscience. The way her shoulders dropped to make herself appear small. Crossing her arms, rubbing them lovingly, like she was desperate for some semblance of touch like this. 
He saw the bob of her throat and braced himself for those large thick walls she’d built before she even said it.
In that moment, as the crushing burden of her secrets threatened to suffocate her, she found a temporary reprieve in the simple act of confiding, even if just for a fleeting moment. And wanted to, so readily to trust him. Despite her best efforts to fortify her emotional barriers, the ache in her heart intensified, a visceral reminder of the profound yearning for the connection she so deeply desired.
“Dunno what you’re talking about.”
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One could be mistaken for thinking it was early afternoon by the time she pulled up behind Billy's battered Vauxhall, it was still so bright outside. 
With a heaved sigh, she threw her bag over her shoulder and locked her car, having to take steady, easy breaths to calm herself as she crossed the road to Billy's flat. Cigarette smoke clung to her clothes as she crushed it beneath the heel of her shoe, the smoke burning in her lungs and the lingering nagging at the back of her head that at some point, she had to make a point of giving up.
With a click, a man in a tracksuit and a cap slid out the door that led to the flats behind the row of shops. His eyes were hidden under a shadow, taking wide, calculated steps as if to place as much distance between him and the property he’d just come out of as possible.
As if being caught doing something he shouldn’t.
A shiver crept up her spine when they passed one another, and his stark eyes lit up under the tip of his cap, peering at her in suspicion.
She couldn’t shake that feeling even as she ascended the stairs to Billy’s flat. The sizzling nerves didn��t even seem to replace it.
Her stomach felt sick with emotion when he answered the door in tatty looking clothes, his shirt pilled up from years of use, hair somewhat greasy and an old, bloody bandage around his fist. 
Billy took up the doorway with his height, his arm stretched across it in a gesture of defence. But it seemed as if when he laid his darkened and tired blue eyes on her, she saw him shrink. 
“Can we have a word?” She asks, her tone flat in a manner that tells Billy he knows exactly what she's here for. In a manner that was tired, disappointed and saddened in equal measure.
“Fuck’s sake…”
Billy’s flat smelled of mildew, proven by the fact his clothes were still damp on the airer and all his windows were shut with the curtains drawn. His shoes were piled up in the hallway, one on top of the other, clearly favouring a particular pair that sat above them, as if he couldn’t be bothered even with the choice anymore.
He offered her a cup of tea, no doubt in an attempt to calm the rocky waves of panic surging through him. It was clear Billy was embarrassed by the state of his flat, as he glanced at her every now and then to make sure her expression was not one of judgement. The only one he found was one of despair.
Billy looked at his friend as if she was other-wordly. The world he’d made within the tight confines of his flat, did not have space to fit the idea of her inside of it.
His shoulders slumped, and the words that came out his mouth did not seem like his own as he sat awkwardly on his sofa, even that, covered in old clothes and crap. And all she could do was shake her head and peer out through his thin curtains, not able to look at the person she thought she had known once upon a time.
Both of them felt it. 
The surge of heat that flooded their veins before an argument. 
“I don’t need you to parent me. I’ve had enough of that already.”
She wanted to laugh bitterly at that, but managed herself somehow, “maybe you need it, Billy. These new mates of yours don’t seem to be doing you any favours, do they? Was it their fab idea for you to do it? Hm?”
“Does it matter?” he replied dismissively.
“Can't you see you're being fucking groomed, Billy? Fucking hell, what would Ami and Abi think?”
Their friends.
Did it mean nothing anymore?
“They’re different.”
“Oh, are they? Until they’re not. Until they do something to piss you off and then all of a sudden it’s ‘people like them’. What about their mum? Because fucking newsflash Billy, she wasn’t born here either, you’ve not got a fucking clue!”
He is quiet. His jaw tight, body wound so tight that even she could see his frustration.
“What’s next? Lobbing a brick through Mrs Ahmed’s window?”
He scoffs, his hair slipping off his head as he shakes it, “I fucking hate when you’re like this.”
“Like what? Speaking fucking sense?” she laughs bitterly, “I'm alright with that if I'm the only one holding you accountable!”
“When you’re stubborn.”
Billy needn’t ever shout. 
She could sense his deep annoyance in not only his gaze, but his voice.
And she thought with anger in her veins, burning with fury, that what did he have to be annoyed about?
“Who the fuck even are you Billy.”
It came out her mouth without even really trying. She didn’t know if she regretted it or not when she saw his expression. He was still defensive, that much was clear, but in the way he looked at her, it seemed as if he was grasping for something.
“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” she asked, almost desperately.
“Because I’m not used to this version of you.”
“Well, sorry Billy, I grew up. I of all people wish we could go back to the way we were, but here we are, fucking adults, avoiding each other like fucking teenagers!”
“There’s no need to shout.”
“Well give me something then!” she exclaims, “something, to let me know you give a shit.”
“Fucking hell, I punched the guy who broke your fucking heart, is that not enough?!”
“Now who’s the one shouting,” she claps back with venom, “And so what, you-”
She stops herself, her face falling somewhat. And when she’s quiet so suddenly, Billy’s bright eyes meet hers, hands clasped and rested on his knees, leaned forward on the sofa as if to appear smaller. His expression is confused and irritated in equal measure.
“What did you say?” she asks in a whisper, blinking slowly.
“I…punched the guy who broke your heart?”
She feels the lump form in the back of her throat, her eyes curiously flitting between either of his, trying to understand what he is thinking without having the courage to ask.
Billy shakes his head, “I mean- is that not what he did? He fucking dropped you like you were nothing.”
Silence envelops either of them for a solid few seconds. So long that it’s suffocating, like the walls are closing in around them for the first time in years. And for a split second, with her eyebrows furrowed in pain and hands shaking, she looks just as she did on the last day Billy saw her at college.
“You don’t know, do you?”
What she says then sends a full-body shiver that begins at the base of Billy’s neck and clatters all the way through his limbs. Blood turning cold immediately. 
What does he not know?
He finds himself restless at the idea. That he was perhaps supposed to know something, but irrevocably doesn’t. That everyone else is aware of something so obvious.
He didn’t know it wasn’t just some nasty breakup.
He didn’t know that photos and videos of her in her most vulnerable moments were sent around the school, rumours circulating on MSN, hateful messages scribbled on her desk. And that she didn’t have the courage to tell anyone that the guy who had humiliated her and dragged her name through the mud, still had the indecency to rub it in her face. 
He didn’t know that because of what happened, she nearly left school entirely, but that it was so late into the school year, she just waited it out before college. But that those few months, were absolute torture.
Billy never grasped the magnitude of her anguish—the nights spent in tears, the days clouded by despair. The sanctuary of school became a battleground, where every glance felt like an accusation, every whisper a condemnation. Yet, she soldiered on, clinging to the hope of escape, even as her spirit withered under the relentless assault.
He didn’t know that her mum berated her for weeks, even months. Didn’t give her bus money and didn’t wash her clothes, in what she perceived was fair punishment, thinking her daughter had purposely sent suggestive photos and videos to a random boy at school.
She had hoped he knew... but now faced with the daunting task of revealing her truth, she recoiled, sickened by the prospect of laying bare the depths of her suffering.
But in all that, as tears made her vision go blurry, a watery smile lifted to her lips at the memory of when he’d come to her at Cranstead Fields. He hadn’t been pushy and simply accepted that she needed comfort. And a friend. She remembered wetting his school shirt with her tears, and the smell of the detergent his mum used, with jasmine fabric conditioner pods. To which she thought now with delight, that he still smelled the same.
He was like home to her.
Home.
What was home now?
“Oh Billy…” she whispered through a choked, almost bitter laugh, “...it’s sweet…that you did all that just because you thought he broke my heart.”
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General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd@blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301@jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian@randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @valleyof-goldenlilies @virtualsweetsqueen
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Text
03/02/2024 Daily OFMD Recap
TLDR; Cast & Crew Sightings; SambaSchutte; Vico Ortiz; Captain's Orders; AdoptOurCrew Saturday Sillies; Saturday "Masculinity" Fuckery; March 3 Reminders; FOTC and Short Poppies Watch Party Polls; Our Flag Turns 2; The Pirates Watch party; New Watch Party: Next Goal Wins; Repo News; Articles; Love Notes; Daily Darby/Tonight's Taika;
= Cast&Crew Sightings =
= Samba Schutte =
Samba's new short film "I Keep Bumping Into Candy Maldonado" is screening tomorrow Mar 3 @ 10 am at the Kingston Canadian Film Festival! If you happen to be there, give it a watch!
Src: Samba's Instagram Story
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= Vico Ortiz =
Vico's out here re-tweeting the AdoptOurCrew #TheseThems Watch Party! Way to go @adoptourcrew!
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= Today was Captains Orders!=
Several folks got out and took some time to enjoy nature! I only got a few permissions to share so if I get more, I'll add more tomorrow! Thank you to @lucyrosebutler for sharing! The last two images are me and my sad dry state. Bonus, my nugget before he ran off.
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== AdoptOurCrew Saturday Sillies ==
Our lovely crew-mates @AdoptOurCrew are back again with more #SaturdaySillies! This time around it's Pirate Connections! Want to know how to play? Check out the guide. If you already have twitter, please visit the Adopt Our Crew Thread to play! Don't have twitter? No problem! Their links to the Pirate Connections are below!
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Game 1
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Game 2
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Game 3
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Game 4
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Game 5
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Game 6
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== Saturday Fuckery! ==
Our darling @RedsiesWorld on twitter started up a fuckery! Various crew members managed to lots of positive, healthy masculinity posts running through the #MasculinitySaturday tag!
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== Reminders for March 3 ==
= FOTC/Short Poppies Watch Party Polls =
Have you voted yet for times for the Flight of the Conchords or Short Poppies Watch Party? @iamadequate1 still has the polls up!
How should ep breakdown in a Mon-Fri week be for the 12 eps of FotC S1?
What is a good hashtag for a FotC watch party?
What is a good hashtag for a Short Poppies watch party?
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= #OurFlagTurns2! =
Our friends over at @AdoptOurCrew are hosting several questions on twitter regarding #OurFlagTurns2! If you're on twitter, please respond on their feed, otherwise, if you want to respond on any other platform, just add the hashtag #OurFlagTurns2!
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Mar 3: The Pirates! Watch Party! 
This is a family friendly movie so bring the kids! Or the adults-- or anyone you know, really, as long as it's not against their will! Sunday March 3rd, 3 PM EST, 12 PM PST, 8 PM GMT!
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Watch Party Hashtags:
#OurPirateCaptain
#SaveOFMD
#AdoptOurCrew
== New Watch Parties! =
March 8th - Next Goal Wins!
When: 8 pm GMT / 3 pm EST / 12 pm PST
Thank you @lamentus1 for the info! Now available to buy in the UK: £11.99 @ Apple (https://tinyurl.com/mr3p6bvm) and £9.99 or £11.99 @ Amazon https://tinyurl.com/2fwdmezz.
(US fans can watch on Hulu, and Disney Plus)
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Watch Party Hashtags:
#SaveOFMD
#OurFlagWins
== Repo News ==
Hey all! Sorry it took so long.. I finally got the Renewal Repo Resources up with approved resources this time. I also added a new permission form so if you'd like to offer up your creations to be added to the repo for the purpose of sharing (with or without credit) you can do so and choose how your creations will get to be used. If anything on that form doesn't make sense or doesn't include something you feel needs to be included, please reach out to me! I got lots of feedback but I know there's always room for improvement, and I want to make sure I'm covering everyone's bases.
Please Note: This form is for shareable media. For "Fan Spotlight" I'll still be reaching out individually and those will be in a completely different part of the repo and not for sharing purposes.
OFMD Renewal Repo Sharable Media Submission / Permission Form
== Articles ==
Anti-Warner Bros. Sentiment Grows as Major Boycott Gains Traction (A shout out to @adoptourcrew in it! woo!)
== Love Notes ==
Hey lovelies. I hope if you were able to get outside today that it helped a bit with giving you some relief. Nature really can be healing, as the captain says. If you weren't I hope you got to do something fun, like make a gif, read a fanfiction, eat something you love, and get some rest. Just wanted to remind you that you can do anything. You can write that fic. You can draw that art. You can learn that language, or that subject you want. You can get that new job, or take that break. You can make it through another day, even when it feels like you can't. Remember that. I believe in you <3 The crew believes in you <3 If you don't already, one day I know you'll believe in you too. Sending all the love <3 To Quote @bossbabe.inc "yes the fuck you can".
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== Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika ==
The gif theme tonight is "Strut your stuff". Rhys Gif Courtesy of @lacefuneral Taika Gif Courtesy of @fuckyeahworldoftaika
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75 notes · View notes
jeezybipsman · 6 months
Note
hey !!!
could you write something about reader comforting Harry about the hate he’s been getting or maybe vice versa ?
tots up to you
stay safe x
🫶
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This is a bit longer yet still short, but here it is, enjoy!
Warnings: talks of sex, swearing, hatred to another.
“You look stunning!”
“thanks mum”
i smiled as she took yet another picture of me stood by a wall full of fake flowers.
Once she handed me my phone i posted them, thinking nothing of it. But boy was i wrong…
*yourinstagram has uploaded a new photo!*
My phone was switched off, but Harry’s was blowing up like mad as he slept peacefully, like he owned the world.
“turn that shit down”
i peeked at harry’s phone, he was being tagged in so many instagram comments, i let my suspicions get the better of me.
*@username13 commented: @wroetoshaw mate your girlfriend is a dog🤣🤣🤣🤣why do you settle for less?*
it was that, it just made up my mind, all these comments were people tagging harry, them telling him how unlucky he was to have a girl like me in his life.
“was it anything good y/n/n?”
“uh… just you being tagged in a post”
i stuttered over my speech, in nothing but shock, tears threatening to spill.
“y/n. tell me the truth”
he knew me too well, he could tell when i wasn’t okay. or in this case, when i was lying to his innocent little face that i just loved so much.
I couldn’t keep it in any longer, sobs escaped my mouth. Harry rolled off and just enveloped me in his arms, calming me down in an instant.
i gave harry his phone, not wanting to tell him myself, worried i’d sob even more.
“who do these numptys think they are? telling me who i can and can’t love. i love you, is it that hard to really understand?”
“clearly..”
“y/n, you know how i feel about you right?”
i nodded depressingly
“yeah well don’t let some lowlifes upset you, your all i’ve ever needed, i know i don’t say it often.”
it was true, i often came home to flowers or a new jewel to add to my collection, to me… that was the equivalent of an ‘i love you’
“i love you with my all, don’t forget that okay?”
i just smiled, was it possible to be any more in live with a buffoon”
“your my person harold”
“come cuddle me”
we laid on our shared bed, entangled in each other, love radiating off of us.
i looked at harry, a smile beaming on his face as he stared into my soul.
“what?”
“feel better with sex?”
i really loved this idiot.
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ladymarycrawley · 8 months
Text
The blondie I'm in love with - Mason Mount
Request: Mason has a fake girlfriend but with a happy ending please (requested by @masterclassbaby sorry baby, I kept you waiting so long for this 🙈 hope you like it!)
Warning: one of my worst pieces to date I think but after months of lacking any motivation to write about Mason I got struck but this idea all of a sudden last night so
Tag list: @masonxomount @prideofpd @masterclassbaby @chelsealover @johnstonesfc
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Summer’s hot and sunny weather it’s like the secret ingredient for good things to happen, such as good holidays in beautiful places. Better if shared with people we love and have fun with. That was the case for you and Mason who got the chance to spend some time together with some of your mutual friends, spending days at the beach and nights out, staying up late.
Another thing that usually happens in summer, football related, is the transfer window where players say goodbye to the teams they've played in until that moment and let some new teams welcome them for their new adventure. Mason made no exception as he was among those players too. 
The season that just ended wasn’t the best of his career for sure and he needed that month away from football to clear his mind as well as relax. 
“Well now everyone will make up some weird theories about your new hair colour and that'll be so much fun" 
Clearing his mind meant also doing some crazy things such as dying his hair platinum blonde (something that was quite en vogue among those football players…what’s the fascination behind it?). Most people, the ones who liked drama more than anything else, were certain there was some deep meaning behind those style changes.
"You'll be the one to blame"
"Me?? What does it have to do with me?"
"Cause it's always some girl's fault"
You rolled your eyes, making him giggle.
"As if"
"We could turn the whole situation at our advantage and make it fun"
"What do you mean? You're scaring me, Mount"
“Well, we could pretend you’re my girlfriend and you’re the one girl to blame”
You served him a kind of puzzled look, not seeing the whole point of the thing.
“And so? What’s the sense of it all?”
 “Just to give them something to talk about, you know the transfer window is here and I’ve had enough of random people assuming things about myself and my future as a player so we’ll give them a distraction”
"I'm not sure I want to be their distraction…"
After a one of a kind, rather weird courting you gave in and accepted to be his fake girlfriend: behind the cameras and the paps' flashes you kept on behaving normally, as if nothing happened, as if you were still a couple of good friends and nothing more.
One of the reasons why you didn't want this thing to happen was because you knew, like it or not, something deep down your soul would have changed the way you perceived him and, consequently, the trajectory of your friendship. You always had a soft spot for him, not only because he was one your best friends but because something stronger was burning inside of you.
When his best mates would nudge him to tell him someone was watching or it was time for him to start his little act of the boyfriend in love your heart started racing: the way he would move closer to sneak his arm around your waist and graze the pad of his thumb against your hip bone, matched with the tender touch of his lips lingering against your jaw made you feel kind of dizzy. What if you were falling in love with one of your closest friends, for real, not just to play some senseless game?
"We would really make a cute couple" He whispered in your ear, giggling.
You giggled back, annoyed by how this thing was a bit too funny to him. 
"We should break up at some point, you know that?"
"Who said that?" He kissed the sensitive skin behind your ear, causing goosebumps all over your arms.
"God Mase, I hate you sometimes" 
The smirk on your face as he was holding you tight to him made you a very bad liar, there’s no other place you would have rather be in.
Those days were soon turning into a slow agony: Mason would swim close to you and give you underwater hugs, napping with you on the same bed, placing his hands on your hips in the club at night so your bodies would sway together to the rhythm of the loud music. You were doing all the things a couple would do but you weren’t a couple.
This dynamic cooled down when it was time for him to get back in business as things at Cobham weren’t going particularly well but you were sure he’d have sorted it out as he was Chelsea through and through. But you were wrong.
He avoided talking about what direction his football career would have taken even with you, who used to be the one he would tell everything, even the smallest things.
When the day prior to his official announcement he sat on your bed in your London house to tell you he accepted the bid Manchester United made for him so he would have moved up north rather soon you felt as if the whole world was falling upon your shoulders and Mason was your whole world.
"Wh - what? You're not a Chelsea player anymore?"
The sadness filling his eyes was heartbreaking to say the least, he was gutted to leave his heart's club, most of all because he was kind obliged to do so if he wanted to go on playing, which was the thing that mattered the most to him.
Mason nodded as his chocolate pupils followed your body falling to the ground, on your knees.
"Hey, are you -" He asked, getting up in a rush to take you.
"Don't touch me"
He gave you a puzzled look and you soon provided him with an explanation. 
"You knew it, you knew you'd have left Chelsea and London from the beginning. That's why you dyed your hair this awful blonde that makes you look like a fuckboy. I hate you. You just used me for fun and you knew it from the beginning!" You cried out, trying to fight back the tears.
“You agreed when I told you about the fake relationship”
“Yes but you did it only because you already knew you would have left Chelsea and you used me as a shield against the fucking press!”
“I - didn’t know anything about United, we were in talks but it wasn’t official at all!”
“Fuck off Mason” You muttered, lowering your eyes as if you were looking for something on the carpet your tired body was abandoned on. Mason didn’t dare to look at you either, keeping his gaze down too.
"I dyed my hair simply because I liked it, because I had a shitty season felt the need to change something…I like you too"
"You what?" Your eyes now had to stop looking for something that didn’t exist on the floor and start to look at the handsome boy before you who just happened to say something quite powerful.
"Y/N I wanted to have some fun, yes, but I also liked you for quite a while and I didn't know how to tell you not to ruin our friendship." He kept on explaining with the softest voice.
“Oh so you now think you can get away with it by saying some sweet words??” Yes, those sweet words surely had an effect on you and denying it was the biggest lie ever.
“Come to Manchester with me”
That invite left you in a shocked state as it was the last thing you were expecting: why should he ask you to follow him away from London? You were good friends but that’s not the kind of question usually asked to someone who’s only a friend.
“Did you hear what I said?? I don’t even know if I want to be your friend anymore. You just used me and now you’re asking me to leave my city, my everyday life to follow you?”
“Yes, because I love you”
The three words. Mason just said those three words to you. 
“You’ve always been there for me when I needed it, you always keep up with my shit, including faking a love relationship, but now I feel like I’m ready to have a real one. I wanna get home from training and see you there, dozing off on the sofa and kiss your forehead or taking you out to dinner at some fancy place”
Mason was there, looking as the most fragile creature you’ve ever seen, opening his heart to you with no fear, he was being the Mason you fell in love with, little by little, over the years.
Warm tears, joyful ones this time, started rolling down your cheeks as you threw your arms around his neck, causing him to fall flat on the mattress.
“I hate you, blondie”
“You love this blondie, you’re such a bad liar” You got lost in each other’s eyes that were shining with a different light, a warmer one.
“This could be the moment where I confess I’ve always been secretly in love with you but I won’t” You whispered shyly, making him smile.
He smirked and caressed your lower back in a circular motion.
“You hid it quite well actually” You both giggled before he pressed his lips against yours in a real kiss, one of those sloppy but heartfelt kisses that took you to another dimension, a dreamy and ideal one.
The moment you were living was just too intense to think about anything else and soon you found yourself straddling him, not even realising the speed at which your clothes fell on the floor, too busy making love to him for the first time.
That bed felt like the best place on earth, the one where all your dreams and hopes became true, the one where you were safe from every danger the outside world might be holding against you.
“This is not just a summer thing, right?”
“This will be a thing for many summers to come”
Mase’s arms were now your home, the shelter you would have run to in case of extreme glee or of unbearable pain, it was the place to be.
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caligvlasaqvarivm · 1 month
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Just read your eridan essay. I left a lot of words in the tags (sorry about that btw. I'm @kitkat-not-karkat, those were my tags) and I just. Holy fucking shit man.
THANK YOU FOR PUTTING IT INTO WORDS. Like. Genuinely. Thank you.
That said, do you have any ideas on why Eridan might specifically flirt as a sort of default response sometimes? (I really hope I'm not misremembering that, the fandom bastardizes the poor guy to be Cronus 2.0-)
I have my own personal speculation here, but I'd love to see your take on it!
I think it's a few things all working in tandem, and I think you definitely nailed at least most of it! I do agree that a huge part of his fixation on romance is the fact that a romantic partner is "supposed" to stick around, and Eridan is simply desperate for attention and friendship.
There are a lot of people who idealize relationships and believe that they're the "fix" or "solution" to their emotional problems, and Eridan's obsession with blackrom in particular (where the caligulas part of his trolltag comes from) definitely has shades of that. A kismesistude is an outlet for violent urges, as well as a romantic interest who ideally doesn't ghost you or leave you alone (cough Vriska cough), and one of the two concupiscent quadrants that needs to be filled so you don't get culled.
An interesting thing is constantly being implied within the comic, which is that moirallegiance is actually kind of the most important quadrant for trolls, but their culture has de-emphasized it in favor of the two breeding-related quads. After all, since adult trolls don't have to raise their own young, what Karkat calls "mating fondness" is biologically much less imperative to their species compared to the quadrant that keeps volatile trolls from going berserk and killing people.
Moirallegiance is always treated with a sort of mysticism - it's called "magical" by the narration in relation to Kanaya and Vriska's moirallegiance while that's still extant, it's the only quadrant described as "soul mates," and in contrast to "mating fondness," Karkat mentions the "mystical forces governing moirallegiance." Moirails - Equius and Nepeta being confirmed, but I genuinely believe that that's what Feferi and Sollux would have resolved to in that hypothetical golden ending - are also the quad that spends the most time together, rather than the two concupiscents. The initial description of the pale quadrant even outright says that the attraction is "instinctive." There's something magical and destiny-laden in a moirallegiance that just isn't there to the same extent in the other three quads.
But in Alternian society, kindness, guilt, and the other kinds of things you'd share with a moirail are considered weakness, especially for highbloods. When Feferi is breaking up with him, Eridan flips out the hardest at the implication that she felt the need to take care of him, insisting that he was perfectly fine. I think this is the reason, in addition to the painful breakup, that Eridan never pursues pale relationships, even though a moirail is what he desperately needs. Instead, he pursues the much more societally acceptible pitch quadrant, which can serve a similar purpose of discharging some of his pent-up aggression.
Moreover, his flirting isn't nearly as relentless as people think it is, although he IS both really stubborn AND really socially inept, which makes it difficult both to get a "no" through his brain, AND to make it stick. Another part of it is that he's operating at very little self-awareness, which means he'll often be doing something without consciously realizing it. Also, he's desperate as hell, and has basically no ability to differentiate good and bad attention. This leads to a pretty messy cocktail that basically means:
He'll hit on anyone at least once (desperation), with the exception of people it would be really weird to hit on, for example, their dancestors, who are way older than them.
If a rejection is not made excruciatingly clear, he probably won't register it as a rejection (dumbassery).
Nearly any attention he gets might be misinterpreted as flirting, even after a rejection is made (desperation, also, can't differentiate between good and bad attention).
Even after a rejection is made and he logically understands it and outright says he respects it, he might still act in a flirtatious way unconsciously (zero self awareness).
Because he will hit on anyone at least once, and is constantly making things weird and leaping to "romance?" even when there's no flirtatious intent, people kind of assume he's always hitting on them, even when he isn't.
His emotions always running at a fever pitch, and the lack of self-awareness he cultivates in order to help deal with his horrible cognitive dissonance, mean that even HE'S not sure about his real feelings. He's always feeling SOMETHING very, very intensely (it's the trauma and anxiety), which he mistakes for true caliginous hatred, or fevered flushed intent. Unlike Cronus, who's basically just trying to get some action, Eridan genuinely feels something for people, and his extreme lack of emotional intelligence means he has no idea how to parse his own tempestuous emotions. He always leaps to feverish concupiscent attraction because that's just how intense his emotions run at any given moment.
#4 is happening to Feferi and Sollux, IMO, while Rose never properly rejected him, so he still thinks they have a chance, and the same happened with Vriska when she started ghosting him post-kismesistude. #5 can be seen in his last memo with Karkat, where Karkat starts to wonder if past!Eridan was redflirting with him by inviting him to LOWAA, even as Eridan himself has no idea what the fuck Karkat is talking about.
Thing is, he DOES actually accept rejections once he gets them through his thick skull, which sets him apart from Cronus, who gets rejected, knows it, and keeps going. It's just... Eridan's messy. His emotions are all over the place, and too big for his stupid body, so he's always making things weird and intense.
I blame his lusus, personally. In a previous post, I talk about how a huge factor in his inability to identify negative attention is because he's basically being emotionally neglected. This has also led to his desperation for attention in general. When combined with the trauma from all the murdering and the pressure society puts on him to fit into a certain mold, it leads to some pretty explosive emotional ourbursts, of which his intense, insistent, and downright uncomfortable flirting is a major facet, but also, only a facet.
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