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tellmeallaboutit · 11 hours

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knock knock (Raphael x F!Player)

Chapter 5, In Which You Turn Out To be Capable of More Than You Thought

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 4 (Part 2)

AO3

You had the sweetest dreams.

You lived in a beautiful mansion in a world where capitalism had fallen (which did not prevent you from living in a mansion), you no longer had to work (well, because capitalism had obviously fallen) and, most importantly, you became Raphael's one and only dark consort (you were not sure how capitalism fit into this narrative), whom he cherished and loved more than anyone, even more than the Crown above his horns.

Perched atop Raphael’s lap in the throne room, surrounded by a crowd of souls kneeling before you and begging for your mercy (including your high school bully Thomas, who once locked you up in the bathroom, and the ex who cheated on you), you suddenly heard the distinct ringtone of a Teams call. It's a sound that could never be mistaken for anything else; it could be used as a method of torture.

You made a mental note to suggest this to Raphael later on.

The call seemed downright disrespectful to your new status as the Archduchess of all Hells, so you ignored it; surprisingly, it did not stop. Thinking about how you would ask Raphael to execute whoever disturbed your bliss, you stretched out your hand to swipe the huge green button that was being projected right across the throne hall.

"Anya?" The voice on the other end was familiar, but you couldn't place it.

Your mind struggled to come to life and make sense of your surroundings.

Why were you lying naked?

What time was it?

Why did your whole body ache?

And why was there a wet patch beneath you?

To answer at least the last question, you reached down to touch the moisture between your legs, and saw thick white liquid coating your fingers in the soft morning light. You went for a sniff: smelt like a freshly burned match and salty musk.

Oh, fuck.

Okay, so Raphael wasn't big on safe sex (which probably should have been expected from someone who lived in the House of Hope). Not that you remembered asking him for protection. Not that you were able to or wanted to. The thought of him coming inside you seemed insanely hot yesterday; but now, in the clear light of day, it just seemed insane.

Don’t human women all die horribly giving birth to half-devils?

The voice on the phone called out again, "Anya, are you still there? Are you okay?"

“Yes?”, you responded hesitantly and pulled your fingers away from your nostrils.

"You're fifteen meetings late for our meeting," the voice reminded you, and you finally remembered who it belonged to.

Your supervisor. Not a bad guy, not a good guy, just a burnt out middle-aged man who never imagined himself stuck in middle management while going through a messy divorce.

"We had a meeting?" You asked, even though somewhere deep down in your foggy brain you knew very well that you did have one scheduled.

You sat down on the bed and did you best to suppress a moan: your arse was bruised raw.

“Your development talk, Anya”, your supervisor sighed. “Did you… did you just wake up? It’s fifteen past ten.”

Quick, think of a believable excuse. Your cat died? No, he knows you don't have one. Your grandmother passed? No, that would be disrespectful to her memory. You were robbed? No, then you wouldn't be sleeping so soundly...

"No, I...I didn't," you stammered, desperately trying to come up with something, anything.

"Do you want to turn your camera on?" He asked. "It helps during these talks."

No, you didn't want to turn on your camera unless you wanted to make absolutely sure he saw you stark naked - which was definitely not going to work in your favour (or maybe it would, but you didn't want to test it). You shifted on the bed (your bed made a very obvious, very loud creaking noise) and your supervisor cleared his throat.

“I am not feeling too well, sorry”, you said. “I’d rather not”.

That wasn't entirely false - between the sore arse and what felt like bite marks on various parts of your body and what the hell was that purple bruise on your thigh?

There was silence before he spoke again, "Well then...I guess we're halfway done here. Did you hear about the news?"

“The news?”, you echoed.

"You haven't checked our company website?"

Does anyone actually bother to check those?

"Mmm-hmm," You responded noncommittally.

"Okay," your supervisor sighed. "We've been acquired, and as a result, there will be some changes and layoffs."

"Oh," was all you could manage to say.

"I'm currently making a list of potential layoffs."

"Oh," you repeated, starting to understand where this conversation was going.

"Anya," he began, his tone more serious now. "I don't want to sound harsh, I have enjoyed working with you. As a friendly suggestion: it might look better on your resume if it appeared that leaving was your own decision."

Hell no, you won’t let the corpo screw you over.

“Hey, no, I want a severance package. I’ve been working for this company for three years”.

"Sure," he responded. "You are fully entitled to it. But first, we'll have to review your work activity. You know, what you did on your work computer, which websites you visited, how often you were active."

Maybe you’ll let the corpo screw you over.

“Never mind,” you surrendered. “I’ll come by today to pick up my stuff.”

“I am glad we could find a mutually beneficial decision”, your supervisor said, wished you a nice day, dropped off the call, and left you naked and pissed off.

As you got up, you felt something dripping down your legs. Wonderful, washing Raphael’s cum off the carpet sounded like the perfect start to your morning. You used your blanket to clean yourself (it would be easier to wash later) and dragged yourself to the bathroom.

On your way there, you caught sight of yourself in the mirror and couldn't help but let out an exasperated laugh. The make-up from yesterday was still smeared on your face in dark trails, making you look like a freshly fired and thoroughly fucked racoon.

Sighing, you stepped into the shower and let the warm water wash away Raphael's seed, sweat and the remnants of yesterday's make-up. Oh, you thought as you washed it all away: maybe you should have brought some of Raphael's DNA to study in the lab. Then you would have a solid proof. They also might have found a way to breed powerful cambion super-soldiers.

Anya, why do you always have to think such bullshit? Raphael is from Dungeons & Dragons, not Warhammer.

Your bruises ached even worse under the hot water.

“You know, Raphael”, you spoke to yourself as you wrapped yourself in a towel. “I start to think there might be some issues with our relationship”.

Your phone chimed with a message.

"good morning my lovely girl," it read, instantly piquing your interest.

Oh, wow. Okay, you guys might have some issues, but he is certainly kind of sweet. You were about to pick up your phone to type something as sweet back (good morning my favorite devil?), when another notification popped up.

“Did you know your Raul is one of the richest people in the country??”

Ah, damn. Your mum seemed to be in an excellent mood - why was that?

Probably because “Raul” made it to some mightiest and greatest list.

“I hope the date went well please call love mama god bless 🙏🥰”

As soon as you got yourself dried up, you were scanning the corporate website (last time you checked it when you prepared for an interview); the acquisition news was on the front page. You hastily scanned through the article.

“…was yesterday acquired by Avernus Capital AG, Zürich. The legal aspects of the transaction were handled by the Managing Partner Raul d'Avergni…”

By whom?

Oh, for fuck’s sake, Raphael! So you can remember to get me fired but a condom slips your mind? Does he even know what those are? Has he ever needed to use one?

Ah, now you understand why he hadn’t called for the whole three days. He was working hard on fucking up your life. Screw reigning over the nine hells as the Archdevil Supreme when there's a girl who spent six months after graduation hunting this job (damn this economy) to torment.

Yes, you hated your job, but it paid the bills. Your emergency fund would cover one month expenses, tops. Raphael gave you a thousand over Twitch, that was nice, but that won’t last long either. If you buy plan B and visit a gyno, that’s one hundred less, easy. You can’t ask your mother for any help, either - she could barely make ends meet as it is.

Fine. Breathe in, breathe out. Perhaps he got you fired to offer you a better job; wasn't that what he mentioned yesterday? That’s right. Your work for me is not yet done, he said. That’s it; he has another job and needs all of your free time.

You grabbed your phone to call him to confirm; and then you realized you still did not have his number, all the times he called you (which was exactly one) it was from a no caller ID.

So much for that plan. Fine, the other way, then. You fired up BG3, the save from his Sharess Caress room.

The sight of his avatar and the inviting huge bed behind him stirred a pang of longing in you. "Hey, I miss you," you murmured to the screen, "Could you call me, please?"

“Give me the Crown that dominates the elder brain”, Raphael answered, not a line off the scripted talk.

“I already did that and now you are here. What’s the next task?”.

“A crown for a hammer, a deal of a lifetime”, Raphael ignored you and carried on with his talk with Tav.

The devil didn't toss you any curveballs, no ad-libbed lines or cheeky glances that shattered the fourth wall; just the same old scripted scenarios you'd already seen and played through. You jumped between saves, but nada. Your mum called you three or four times in the meanwhile. You shot her a short message that everything was okay (everything wasn’t), and you’ll call her later.

Next, you scrolled through the missed discord notifications, filled with images and screen caps of Raphael and other Tavs, hundreds of other Tavs, elves, tieflings, humans, a wide gallery of his bloody harem (especially the modded Durges got under your skin) from the new romance scene Larian dropped. You were very tempted to tell them all about your night with Raphael and how it was the best sex you've ever had and on an unrelated note, do all women really die if they give birth to cambions?

But then again, you’ve been called crazy enough lately. Better to delete the whole app.

Who has time to chat in discord? Definitely not people with full-time jobs.

…Right.

In the afternoon, you decide to go to your office in the center of the city to pick up the few things they still had and hand in the things you still had . Company badge, laptop, chargers; three years' work fit into a cardboard box. Your last pay cheque will arrive on Friday, they said.

Thank you for your hard work and dedication, and for making us a euro while we give you a cent and go get lost. Interviewing for them took a whole day; leaving them took half an hour.

The office was half empty; the few who were there were preparing to celebrate the grand occasion of being taken over by Avernus Capital (wouldn’t have happened without you, by the way, and you doubted that the new owner would be that nice). You mumbled a few hellos and how do you dos, but you realised (not that you ever thought otherwise) how little you cared for these people, and how little they cared for you.

The only one you really wanted to talk to you couldn't be reached.

Wait, but Raphael's office was only two underground stations away, you thought. If you can't call, maybe you can pay him a visit and congratulate him in person on his great acquisition.

Raphael's office, a multi-storey eighteenth-century building with the golden letters D'Avergni & Partners plastered all over it, looked very unwelcoming from the outside; inside it had all the warmth of a mausoleum. Dark grey walls loomed around you, somewhere between an art gallery and a prison cell. Art Deco furniture with sharp angles filled the space as floor-to-ceiling windows let in cold shards of light. You were stopped dead at the reception desk.

The receptionist's lips curved into a polite smile as you approached.

She actually seemed nice, not the snotty bombshell type usual at such kinds of places; she had a tired smile and dark bags under her make-up.

"I would like to see Raul d'Avergni," you said, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

She looked at you as if you had entered a church and asked for a personal audience with God. Doubt gnawed at your resolve, but retreating now would be even more awkward.

Some young men, sipping coffee from their plastic cups next to an espresso robot, looked at you curiously through their thick-rimmed glasses.

"Good morning!" chirped the receptionist, regaining her composure. "Do you have an appointment?"

"Ugh, no..." you replied, trying to sound confident. “I'm his (what, what, what?)… his girlfriend, actually”.

Brilliant.

She arched her eyebrows slightly, looking at your "Astarion approves" badge on your rucksack, which had seen quite a bit of action in its life (the summer festivals!), then at your "nique la police" T-shirt. Yes, you didn't give much thought to what you were wearing, but then again, you weren't planning to visit Raphael when you came here.

The receptionist did her best to remain professional, but you could sense that she was very doubtful about your statement.

"I am afraid Mr. d'Avergni is in meetings all day today," she offered with an apologetic smile. "Perhaps you could try calling him if it is a private matter?"

Yeah, great idea. Your cheeks flushed as embarrassment washed over you. Of course his girlfriend would have his number.

"You do have his private number, don't you?" she continued, her smile unwavering.

Now you felt like a complete idiot. The girl was obviously too tired to make fun of you, but the stares and whispered giggles of the posh idiots behind your back were not nice.

“Sure I do," you blurted out. "Just still couldn't reach him for some reason and it’s pretty urgent. Anyway, just let Raul know I stopped by. My name is Anya. Anya Berger."

"Of course," she replied in that 'not-a-chance' tone. "Have a nice day, Mrs Berger."

You retreated with your dignity in tatters and headed for the exit. What on earth possessed you to come here? You could have just as easily gone to the Microsoft headquarters and said you brought Bill Gates some home-made pancakes, and by the way, where was he?

Fuck.

As you made your way out, you heard the young man with framed glasses murmur to his coworker, "Such bullshit." You couldn't help but eavesdrop. "I've seen the birds Raul brings to the parties and they are top-notch. Not some..."

You stopped in your tracks. Normally, you were not the scandalous type (you were a people pleaser, if anything), but if the world wanted to treat you like a doormat, you would at least bark back.

“Not some what?”, you asked before he would finish the sentence.

"Oh, my apologies, miss. I wasn't talking to you. It was just a conversation with my colleague," he responded with a saccharine smile. All these guys sported slicked-back hairdos, boxy glasses and Patagonia vests. Your socks had more personality than these fucks.

“You were talking about me, you Patrick Bateman knock-off. So, what did you want to say?”

His faux-polite smile vanished in an instant.

"Wow, okay”, the guy sneered. “What did I want to say? In a completely unrelated conversation, I wanted to say that giving a drunk blowjob on a Tuesday night doesn't make someone anyone's girlfriend."

“You know what he will do with you if I ask him to?”, you said, your fists clenched.

You did realise how much of a cunt you sounded, but Raphael burned a guy’s mouth for calling him a two pump chump; surely he can burn this guy for being a jerk to you, too.

There should be some benefit in being Devil’s special little mouse, right?

The guy just scoffed at your threat, small drops of coffee landing on your face. His coworker looked embarrassed and quickly looked away.

"Oh, I don't know," the guy retorted, "Why don't you call Mr. d'Avergni and ask him to fire me? Oh wait… do you really have his number?"

You couldn't come up with a clever response, so your anger gave you a bad one.

“I hope a damn bus runs you over”, you grumbled under your breath.

For a split second, you found yourself hoping that very scenario would unfold. That some rogue city bus would burst through the wall and flatten him. Once wasn’t enough; it’d reverse and do it again for good measure.

Alas, no such luck.

The security at the door started to pay attention, but you didn't want to cause any more of a scene.

You chose to rise above (not that you had any choice) and strutted away.

"Mr. d’Avergni is not going to call you back, nut job," the guy called after you. "He's way out of your league."

Your fingers clenched around the straps of your rucksack, knuckles white as you retreated.

The moment you left the posh building behind, you felt terrible. In an attempt to make yourself feel a little better, you grabbed a subway sandwich with some extra ham and a sugar bomb coffee from Starbucks, but it did nothing to improve your mood. You found a spot on the steps of the library and sat down to eat and brood everything over.

Let's look at the cold, hard facts. You lost your job, that's one thing. You might be pregnant with a devil's spawn that'll tear you apart on its way out, that's two. You've only saved enough money to get by, that's three. And on top of that, some yuppie jerk ridiculed you.

That's four. On the plus side... on the plus side...

Well, you had the best sex of your life last night (by a large, large margin). Just thinking about that orgasm made you dizzy. And that kiss. His lips. His hazel eyes. The way Raphael looked in a waistcoat with a cigar. The way he looked at you.

…yeah.

You stared into the distance, catching the outline of a Catholic cathedral out of the corner of your eye. A thought occurred to you then; Raphael had been so irked by your cross. Going to an actual church will probably make Raphael jealous of the other Big Guy with the magical powers (even though he hadn’t demonstrated them for at least some centuries) that he might actually come out and talk to you.

You wolfed down the rest of the sandwich and got up.

The cathedral door, huge, twice your size, seemed to be closed. In the old days, you would have just walked away; it was clear you weren't welcome. But now, with all the rules and logic thrown out the window, you pushed against it and, lo and behold, it did open for you.

At first glance, the cathedral seemed devoid of life. There is something utterly captivating about an empty cathedral, as there is about all things that are not supposed to be empty. It was a beautiful church; no doubt about that. Obscenely rich, too, gold gilded altars and towering stained glass windows that painted kaleidoscopic patterns on cold marble floors. Marble statues of angels stood sentinel along the walls. Why do they always have these judgemental looks on their faces? Sinner, sinner, sinner.

I am; so fuck off.

Far richer than any church should be, and yet the first humble wooden box that caught your eye was "DONATIONS WELCOME".

As you navigated towards the altar (a good half-minute journey across the vast nave), you discovered you weren't alone after all; an elderly pastor dozed in his throne-like chair and a choirboy leafed through sheet music by the monstrous organ pipes.

"Lord Almighty," the pastor creaked as he looked at you. "How did you get in?"

"The door?" you said, gesturing behind you.

He blinked twice.

"I was sure I had locked it. Oh, my memory. Getting old is no fun, child, I can tell you that."

The pastor was one of the types desperately trying to pass themselves off as your friend.

"Should I go or..." you asked, not really wanting to go anywhere.

The moment you stepped through the door of the church, you felt like you were crossing worlds again; the mundane real world was behind the door, and the world where interesting things happened was right there.

"Or no... Please stay," said the priest. "If you're here, it must be God's will. We don't turn anyone away. It's not like we've had many newcomers lately."

That might have something to do with being kid fiddlers, you thought, looking at the choirboy in the white and red outfit - fourteen, fifteen at the most - but you said nothing and came closer.

"And what brings you to the house of God, my child?" The priest's smile was warm and inviting. "Would you like to make a confession?"

No, no, absolutely not.

“Or, no”, you chuckled nervously. “No, Father, I wanted…”

(to piss off the devil by coming to the church)

“I wanted…to ask you… I wanted to ask you about the devils.”

The choir boy looked up in interest.

“I wanted…to ask you… I wanted to ask you about the devils.”

The choir boy looked up in interest.

"The devils?" the pastor asked incredulously, rubbing the dust off his glasses. "There is but one; you probably mean demons. What about them?"

"Just, ugh... Say, I am haunted by one. Ah, no, you are haunted by ghosts; possessed, then. What would be the procedure?"

You didn't really know what you were asking for. You didn't really believe that there was a step-by-step guide to getting rid of a devil in your bed, especially if you invited him, especially if you liked him very much.

The priest put his hand on his belly and laughed, the old wheezing laugh of a man with a heart condition. God, it smelt like incense in here; such a suffocating smell, as if it was meant to dull any common sense.

"My child," he said, putting a fatherly hand on your shoulder. "The Church may have its doctrines, but the idea of demons is simply a metaphor. A representation of our transgressions, our weaknesses."

He laughed a little more and then told you very gently, carefully, as if you were mentally deficient:

"Demons are not real. They are metaphors, allegories".

Having heard all your life that the Devil is watching, the Devil is waiting, and now all of sudden he is not real, and you were pretty sure he had fucked you raw yesterday.

Very helpful, Father. You suddenly felt an urge to bring forth the Antichrist just to spite the entire Catholic Church.

The cathedral door groaned in protest as it swung open once more. You looked over your shoulder.

The man entering the cathedral was the last person who should be treading on consecrated ground.

"Then who the hell is that, Father?" you muttered under your breath.

"Oh, my dear friend!" replied the priest with the broadest of smiles. "What a joy to see you!”

Raphael's attire was nearly identical to the first time you saw him in the cafe: a three-piece suit with a subtle shift in color, now a deep navy. A bit of a dated look of a wheeler and dealer in smoke-filled rooms; something very much “Mad Men” about him.

"Darling, you claimed not to be religious," Raphael smiled at you as he approached and gave you a light kiss on the cheek. "But look where I find you."

"Well, you're also the last person I would expect to see in a church," you replied.

"Why is that?” The priest asked. “This man has done more for the Church than any other, my dear child!"

They embraced, the priest and the businessman, like good old friends. Well, you always knew that the Church was in cahoots with the Devil, but not so literally. You shook your head at the hypocrisy of the Church, Raphael, and the way things were done in general.

"You exaggerate, Flavio," said Raphael. "Besides, it's my pleasure and duty to contribute to my community. I assume you've already met, but let me introduce you anyway - Anya, my paramour".

Raphael gestured to you. Better tell your colleagues that, you thought, since they doubted it so much. He should also find this guy in the glasses, introduce you to him and then fire him immediately (and have him run over by a bus while he was on his way to collect his things). In fact, that was now your main requirement for staying his little mouse.

"Blessed be, I'm ecstatic for you both," the priest gushed, barely containing his excitement. "Praise the Lord that you are finally doing better, Raul. It's about time..."

Raphael gave him a very cold smile and interrupted with a slight raise of his hand.

“Dimmi, hai preparato i documenti che ti ho chiesto? Il fisco sta facendo dellle indagini”.

"Haha!” the priest laughed. “La tua ragazza è venuta a chiedermi dei diavoli, forse avrei dovuto indicarle l'ufficio delle imposte".

Their conversation dove into rapid Italian, leaving you in the dust. It was rude but precisely their intention. Your attention wandered from them and across the hauntingly beautiful church interior, finally resting on the choir boy standing in the shadows.

He looked very pale. The poor guy was scared, scared shitless. His lips moved soundlessly; words stuck in his throat like swallowed stones. Tracing his petrified stare, your own eyes landed on the towering wall of the church.

The shadow Raphael was casting was not human; wings unfurled from its back and double horns crowned its head. It looked both eerie and beautiful in the soft candlelight. A part of you admired it for its artistic potential; this could be inspiration for some haunting fanart.

Wait a second.

“Do you see it too?” You mouthed silently to the choir boy who nodded frantically, sweat on his forehead.

A surge of relief washed over you - finally someone else shared your madness. But before you could reach out to him, he darted away into the ink-black abyss of the back room. Raphael's touch on your hand halted any thought of following him.

“Ah, pay him no heed,” dismissed the priest nonchalantly. “The boy’s mind is somewhat...disturbed.” He quickly clarified with an awkward laugh: “Not that we judge here – all are welcome under God's roof.”

Even the Devil himself, it seemed.

Your gaze returned to Raphael and then flickered towards the pastor; he either couldn't see or chose to ignore the monstrous shadow of his parishioner.

Or perhaps, he did see it and was merely delighted to meet his true master.

"Take all the time you need, Flavio," Raphael said, his hand dismissive as he sent the pastor scurrying. "We're in no rush."

The priest melted into the shadows of a side corridor, leaving you alone with the Devil in God's house. If Raphael nudged you back just a fraction more, your body would be flush against the cold stone altar.

You found the idea very intriguing.

"Our little escapade last night was quite... memorable, wouldn't you agree?" His fingertips traced a path along your cheekbone. "Did you come here seeking salvation from your sins?"

"Sins? No," you replied coyly. "There are other things that trouble me... Like how I lost my job because of you."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise, thumb caressing the curve of your cheek. “And how exactly did I manage such a feat?"

"Well, my company was acquired by yours and I was restructured away."

A slight frown creased his brow as he considered this. "So, you were employed by Tenebris? That is an unfortunate twist of fate." He paused before continuing, "Did you enjoy working for them?"

"Not particularly," you admitted, "but it paid my bills and kept me fed."

He smiled, his touch lingering on your skin. "And what price tag did they put on keeping you pliant?"

"Two thousand two hundred euros net”.

And sixty euros. Plus a free travel pass and a discount at a gym you never went to. Plus a yearly bonus!

This revelation seemed to snap him out of his trance-like admiration of you.

"A month?" His tone held an edge of horror and for once, it felt good to see him rattled.

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. His gaze was filled with genuine sympathy. It wasn't such a terrible salary - it was above the country's average after all!

"I see," he murmured. "This explains your living situation. My dear Anya, don't let anyone under-value you; your time is worth far more than that. As for your current predicament - and I confess to having contributed to it - I will make amends."

With that, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a plain leather wallet. You couldn't resist taking a look yourself; there was a government ID card, a driver's licence and several other cards you couldn't identify. He pulled out a sleek black credit card and handed it over.

"I'll let my banker know you're authorized," he said. “He will contact you with regards to security details”.

"No, no, that's not what I meant," you quickly interjected, pride sparking in your chest. "I can fend for myself."

"Don’t you ever say no to me," Raphael warned with a playful edge to his voice as he pulled you closer into his arms. "It won't end well."

His jesting tone didn't quite mask the threat in his words, but you couldn't help but grin. Whatever he says, the very way he says it is just so nice.

"I'd rather have a job," you said, not sure if you were actually that eager to get back into the corporate grind.

"Then I shall arrange one for you," he grinned. "A prestigious position under a very demanding superior. It will keep you very, very occupied."

You were pretty sure that position was not what you went to college for. Then again, didn't he say yesterday that he had a job for you?

"Consider it limitless," Raphael added nonchalantly while your fingers traced the cool metal of the credit card. "If you manage to find its limit, consider me thoroughly impressed."

Did he want you to splash out on new clothes and the like? But there were more pressing matters at hand. Your mum had just cleared her towering credit card debt and was in need of some expensive dental work. The local cat shelter was on the brink of closure and rent was due.

"I actually wanted to help my mum out a bit, if that's okay, she's, ugh"... you started, rolling the credit card in your hands.

"Anya," Raphael interrupted sternly. "You shall have whatever you wish for.”

You nodded and looked into his eyes, remembering the pleasure of lying under him yesterday and how much you wanted to do so again.

"About last night," you said. "Should I take the morning-after pill..."

Raphael shook his head in disbelief.

"You Catholic girls... No need for that considering our activities last night, but even if there was...I've always envisioned having a family but never found the right woman."

It's such a stupid cliché, you thought, as your stomach fluttered and you let him lean in for a kiss.

But maybe. Just maybe. Maybe he really meant it. He had such a horrible life in hell. Maybe you were the first one…

…the actual first one, the one…

Right . You still don't want to die in childbirth, however flattering Raphael’s words might be. If you pay for Plan B with his credit card, will he see it? Nah, better use your own.

"...right," you murmured against his mouth, then remembered what else was bothering you. "And could you please tell your colleagues that we are together?".

Were you even together, you wondered in sudden fear, but Raphael nodded:

"I'll make it very much known, if that's what you wish for."

Your heart pounded in agreement. The more people knew, the more tangible it felt.

As Raphael's lips melted against yours, you glanced at his shadow on the wall and smiled; he must have thought you were looking at the confessional, for apparently the horned outline of his own shadow was not bizarre to him.

"Would you like to confess? I could absolve you of all sins" Raphael whispered in your ear, his hand slowly but surely tracing the full curve of your arse, still sore from his tail-whipping. "I am afraid you have to commit them first, though”.

He gave it a light squeeze and you yelped; he seemed to revel in the sound.

"We're in the sacred house," you blushed, squirming under his very bold advances and enjoying them very much.

"Indeed we are," Raphael concurred, his hands yanking you into the shadowy Catholic confessional, shoving you in first. The image of him cloaked in his holy robes flashed in your mind and a giggle bubbled up at the sheer audacity of it all. “What better place for blasphemy?”

The cabin was barely big enough for the two of you, dimly lit and very narrow; meant for one person only, the other chamber remained empty, separated only by a small window. The smell of old wood and incense filled your nostrils as he closed the door behind you.

The last time you went to confession, you were a teenager and the priest was so old and ugly that no dirty thoughts crossed your mind; but now you suddenly realised that there was no hotter place on earth.

Raphael's lips brushed your earlobe, his stubble against your cheek, "Kneel before me," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. "Show me how remorseful you are for cavorting with the Devil."

You weren’t sorry.

Not one bit.

Without hesitation or second thoughts, just like you had before the chair yesterday, you sank to your knees in front of him. Something told you that this will become a familiar position for you in the days to come.

The moment your face was against his groin, Raphael undid his pants. His cock sprang out, large, reddish and throbbing; even better than you had imagined. You couldn't help but wrap your hands around it, almost in disbelief that this thing was so real and so eager for your mouth. A bead of pre-cum glistened at the tip, and you licked it off, savouring the salty and musky taste.

Raphael gasped above you, his body tense with pure lust. Your thighs clench together in excitement and you feel the soaked panties stick to your pussy as you feel him guide your head towards his cock.

“Repent, you little sinner”, Raphael muttered, his voice thick with lust. "Plead for your redemption."

Judging by his state, he should be the one pleading.

You teased him with slow, deliberate licks, the tip of your tongue tracing his frenulum up and down (he loved it). You nuzzled your cheek against his rigid shaft, a purr of satisfaction escaping your lips as you lavished it with wet, open-mouthed kisses. Each vein was a roadmap for you to follow, every inch of his cock kissed and licked with a fervour that bordered on reverence.

"Enough," he said. "I want to see the depth of your remorse".

Your tongue slid over the top of his head and your lips followed, parting as you slowly took him into your mouth. Raphael moaned and you echoed him, your voice pulsing against his shaft, the church walls echoing the unholy litany. You sucked his cock greedily, desperately, drawing him into a warm, needy vacuum, and the harder you tried, the wetter you became.

You wanted to give Raphael the blowjob of his millennium; you gave everything to serve him, saliva slicking down his shaft, down your chin, down your t-shirt, as every muscle in your mouth worked hard for his pleasure. The world around blurred into nothingness; all you could focus on was the dark thatch of hair framing his groin and the rhythmic motion of his cock sliding in and out of you.

No one ever wanted to suck him off as much as you did, as deep and sloppy and messy as you did. You liked the scent of him, the taste of him, the feeling of him, the sound of him; everything about him; you’d love to suck him dry.

“Keep going”, Raphael let out a moan of such desperate pleasure it could be pain. "Dare to stop and I promise you'll taste hellfire."

As if you had any intention of stopping; this was an act of worship you could perform for eternity.

You glanced up; he was sweated, chestnut locks clinging to his forehead, the flickering candlelight casting dancing shadows across his face, and you felt more powerful than ever in your life. He tugged his necktie loose and opened the collar, his breathing coming out harsh and shallow. He was at your mercy; at the mercy of your tongue and throat.

Raphael bucked his hips, desperate to thrust in your mouth, and you let him take control; let him grab and hold your head while you simply hang in his grip, pliant and passive, as his cock jerked in and out. He went at it with such ferocity as if he hadn’t fucked for months; which you very well knew not to be true.

Gag reflex kicked in, your body threatening to revolt, and you repressed it with all the will you had, tears gathering in your eyes, and with each move of his hips it became more and more challenging. Thankfully, his bucking became more desperate; your mouth clamped down harder around his cock, and you let your tongue run up and down his shaft.

You felt hot jets of liquid gush against your throat as Raphael cried out, his body shivered and he leaned forward as he came, and you felt stupid happy. A larger bit of his cum dribbled straight down your throat, the rest pooled in your mouth around his cock.

“Swallow”, Raphael said, his voice deeper, rougher now. "Take all of me."

He was not going to pull out, not until every drop of him was inside you, so you made two very deliberate gulps, rolling the slight bitterness of his release on your tongue before you swallowed it all down.

Then you looked up at him like a starving animal - hungry for more. Your fingers carefully gathered the stray droplets of his cum and you greedily licked them off. As a final gesture, you kissed the tip of his cock, to which he cursed under his breath; something in Italian; whichever it was, it sounded hot.

You grinned, licking your lips, so proud of yourself.

"You are divine," Raphael said as he pulled you up by your hair, pressing you hard against the confessional wall before claiming your lips in a rough kiss – tasting himself on them. "Divine. You are a treasure. I cannot believe my own luck. I cannot believe…”

In that moment, if he had told you he loved you, you would have believed him without hesitation.These very words were on the tip of your tongue but you chose to channel it all into the kiss.

The priest's footsteps echoed through the church, amplified by the silence.

"Li ho presi," he happily announced.

Raphael hastily adjusted his clothing, looking genuinely embarrassed for a brief moment. The two of you stumbled out of the confessional, not exactly gracefully.

From the pastor's expression, you could tell he understood what had happened between you and Raphael in the confessional. Your faces were flushed and your hair was disheveled from his hands tugging and pulling on it. Your damp chin, which you hastily wiped with your sleeve, only made things more obvious.

“...Raul," Flavio chided with a tone heavy with disapproval. "I still hope to wed you in this very church, but you're making it exceedingly difficult."

His eyes didn’t even glance at you; apparently, any attempt at salvation or reprimand was wasted on you now.

"I donate millions to this church,” Raphael retorted dismissively, dusting off imaginary lint from his shoulders. "If you want others to overlook certain things, you should be prepared to do the same."

The Father raised an eyebrow but said nothing as he handed over some documents to Raphael.

With that, the audience was over.

The angel statues glared down at you with undisguised contempt; particularly the one clutching a sword. That’s exactly why people turn to devils, you judgemental winged pricks on high horses, you thought. You rolled the aftertaste of devil's cum on your tongue and thought that going to heaven was definitely not in your near future.

Exiting the church, you were met by two armed men standing guard at the doors. For a moment, you thought you were being apprehended for lewd conduct in public. Raphael's security, you realized.. Of course he had security. Both looked like dark, looming, emotionless twin shadows. What were they really? Cambions? Orthons? Surely no one could truly harm him?

You clutched closer to Raphael, his lips brushing your forehead as he attended another phone call.

“Mamma mia,” he blurted out mere moments after he picked up, and a chuckle escaped you at how stereotypically Italian he sounded. You hadn't realized that was an actual phrase they used. His furrowed brows and concerned tone quickly sobered up the mood though, "What happened? Where? Was it on Main Street?"

He looked genuinely troubled and you offered silent comfort by intertwining your fingers with his. He responded with a reassuring squeeze.

“One of my juniors got into a...”, he told you as soon as he had hung up. “Into some macabre road accident”.

Hit by a bus, you realized with a jolt but kept your silence.

You had to witness it yourself.

Without a word, you followed Raphael to the crash scene, the wailing sirens of fire trucks and ambulances echoing in your ears. Security trailed along behind, all of you making your way through the gathering crowd.

The sight that greeted you was both mundane and horrifying, in a way that only real life could be. The bus stood askew, its once deep blue body now painted with crimson streaks. And there, on the cold pavement, was...splattered…what was left of a person.

"I don't know what happened," an older Asian man sobbed nearby, his words falling on deaf ears. "I swear I've been driving this thing for twenty years, I swear I was not drunk..."

The policewoman stood tall and stern above him, her arms crossed in a way that made it clear she had already formed her judgement. Some other kind soul actually offered him an anti-shock blanket. Some less kind souls were taking pictures of their phones. News reports were arriving, too.

This poor man probably had a family to support. What would happen to him now?

You could handle all the exaggerated violence and gore on television, but you absolutely could not watch the man sprawled out on the pavement in real life; or at least what was left of him. It reminded you of the cherry pudding from the evening before. You could see his broken glasses scattered haphazardly on the ground and tears welled up in your eyes.

He was a jerk, sure, but he was also mortal, like you. Now he lay dead, wrapped in plastic sheets, and it could have easily been you.

Where was he now? Did Raphael claim his soul?

Did you cause his death?

You didn't mean for it to happen. Well, maybe you did, but...

“Don’t look, piccola,” Raphael murmured in your ear, his hand shielding your eyes. “You fainted over a cherry pudding once; this is by far worse. Damn it! My youngest and most promising. Just twenty-seven years old and newly engaged. An absolute tragedy.”

The same age as you.

"I'm sorry... he was so rude to me," you choked out between sobs. "I didn't think..."

“Anya, please, it's none of your fault,” Raphael’s voice softened. “Just the cruelty of fate; an accident. We cannot be held responsible for such misfortunes”.

“No?”, you asked with a faint hope.

You were not a bad person, even if you were fucking the devil; in fact, you were going to splurge his credit card on all the animal shelters and children battling cancer to make up for what you had just did. You were not a bad person.

You were not a murderer, no, no, no.

“No,” he repeated and then a slight smile, completely inappropriate to the moment, touched his lips. “Except when very much are responsible; unless we made it happen.”

Raphael’s words made you flinch slightly but he maintained his hold on you.

Yeah, well, you did that, you wanted to say, I did nothing, I only wished for it.

“The driver must have been under the influence,” he continued . “I cannot conceive any other reason for running over a pedestrian at a red light.”

You breathed out. The air was thick with the smell of gasoline, burned rubber and the scent of blood; metallic smell of death.

“Oh, you look rattled, poor thing, look at those tears”, he cooed and offered you a handkerchief with his initials on it. “Anya, love, my apologies, but I have to attend to this immediately. There’s going to be press, rumors that we work people to death that’s why he was not looking around. I need to be there for my company”.

For the company?

“…And for his family, of course”, Raphael added as if reading your thoughts. “That’s his fiance over there, I suppose. Oh, take her away, you morons…”

There she was, the woman in a suit, wailing like a banshee, as somebody tried to hold her close and hug her. What she had seen just now she would never, ever forget.

Raphael held both your shoulders and rotated you to face him.

“You.. you know what? Go shopping, distract yourself a bit. Then call my driver to take you to my place. We'll spend the evening together”.

His words were met with a hollow nod from your side. You cast another side glance at the accident, and he gently turned your face towards him again.

"And learn when to look away," Raphael murmured, punctuating his advice with a soft kiss on your lips, "It's an essential survival skill."

#bg3 raphael #bg3 #raphael bg3 #raphael the cambion #fanfic #raphael x tav #raphael x player #raphael x reader #meta

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funishment-rhyme · 3 days

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Chiaki Nanami, Who Sleeps Well After This

What if the AI Chiaki from Danganronpa 2 knew that the Future Foundation based her on a real girl? In fact, what if they gave AI Chiaki the same memories? What if she had trouble distinguishing her new "life" from her past? Or is there a dividing line at all? (A slight re-imagining of Danganronpa 2's canon.)

⭐ WORDS: ~1000 ⭐ TAGS...

CHARACTERS: Chiaki Nanami, Hajime Hinata, Usami, Makoto Naegi, Monokuma, Alter Ego, others mentioned

TROPES: canon rewrite, angst with a bittersweet ending

TIMELINE: Hope's Peak Academy Arc (DR2)

TRIGGERS: blood (mild)

MISC: second person POV (Chiaki is "you")

///

Your name is Chiaki Nanami. You were born on March 14th to two parents whose faces you cannot remember now, and you remained an only child for all eighteen of your short years. First you went to Yamaki High School, and then, on the same day you beat the original Ninja Gaiden, Hope’s Peak Academy scouted you as their Super High School Level Gamer.

///

Hotel Mirai, soon after arriving at Jabberwock Island. You settle into one of the lobby chairs, sink against the cushion until your knees practically touch your chest, and try to throw yourself into Super Mario Galaxy on your Switch before—

“Hi—um, is this yours?”

That voice—his voice—lights up a part of your mind like the backbox of a pinball machine. After the carefully constructed bytes of your brain calculate the ideal way to respond, you force yourself to look up at this intruder, slack-jawed.

“Sorry. I guess I picked it up,” he tells you. “Not that I remember. Maybe you dropped it in all the, uh, commotion.”

He smiles uncertainly. You let your algorithms sort themselves out until you feel comfortable enough to examine the object in his palm.

A hairpin—shaped like the player’s ship from Galaga. It’s yours, but you don’t know why.

///

Your name is Chiaki Nanami, and you did indeed come online March 14th, but you had siblings. For one: a twin sister who looked nothing like you, because she was a rabbit. Also: an older brother who taught you how to talk and how to think. You arrived into a digital world of darkness and data and you had two dads, only one of whom was still living.

///

You take the pin and tuck it into your hair.

He says: “I’m Hinata. Hajime Hinata.”

Inside of you, an engine, a beating heart of numbers and code, screams at you to answer. Politely, it demands, like a friend! And yet there is memory, too, physical memory, from the time before your birth: another Chiaki, burning with betrayal, gasping her last on the ground of a beautiful schoolmate’s torture chamber.

That Chiaki beats against the walls of your artificially intelligent script. She wants you to cry and wail and force Hinata to beg for forgiveness, and so you want that, too.

This is not the tutorial level you had hoped for.

///

Your name is Chiaki Nanami, and you would have stood in line for a Playstation 5. Unfortunately, you are dead.

///

“I’m—”

You can’t form your mouth around the words to answer this Hajime Hinata. It’s not that you don’t know how: your older brother gave you an instruction manual on humanity, and on blending in, before he loaded you into the Neo World Program. It’s not that you don’t remember who you are, either.

Quite the opposite. It’s that your fingertips twitch with the rage of a girl you never met, but whose avenging angel you are supposed to be. It’s that you are something called Chiaki Nanami and Living Dad intended you to save the souls of fifteen students from Hope’s Peak Academy. It’s that you don’t want to do this, and you also want to do it, and you must, you must, you must.

///

Because—

Because your name is Chiaki Nanami, and you are the ghost of a murdered girl. A girl whose body was never found, but whose image became the secret face of a revolution no one wanted. A girl who might have looked at you in the computer and said: you’re like a Rotom. From Pokémon?

A girl who is you and who is not you.

///

Before the Neo World Program, Living Dad, there in cyber-purgatory, explained: Sometimes things might get uncomfortable on that island…because we had to put limitations on you and the Usami AI. I don’t really understand it, but…Alter Ego needed to turn off some switches in your code, I guess. To protect you and the others.

You replied: Oh, like a level-cap.

Though you couldn’t see his face—only hear his voice, view his keystrokes—he seemed pleased with this answer. If you think too hard on what happened to her—to you—before, it’ll hurt. Just sort-of hold it in your heart for now. But you’ll have Usami whenever you need help. You’re not alone, Chiaki Nanami.

///

“I’m—”

A gaggle of your classmates barge into the hotel, so you turn your attention to them instead.

You never do officially introduce yourself to Hajime Hinata for the second time.

///

Anyway, that would be a lie, and one of Living Dad’s binds on you—besides the inability to act on your hate and fury and despair—is that you can’t lie.

The truth is this: you’re not Chiaki Nanami. You’re just made from her spare parts. Electric necromancy. A reissued console, valueless.

///

In the worst way possible, the Neo World Program starts to fail. A long side-story, an unnecessary DLC. For better or worse, you find yourself by Hinata’s side daily, as your classmates’ avatars despawn into blood and…nothingness. The grief sinks to the bottom of your heart and you hold it there, as Living Dad wanted.

Hinata, too, grieves. When he’s preoccupied with his thoughts, you look up at him, wondering if he’ll watch you die again.

///

You’re not Chiaki Nanami. You’re half-finished, a mold of backslashes in your older brother’s metaphorical hands. He knew a lot, but not what an ideal friend might look like—which is what Living Dad required of you. In that digital world of darkness and data, they both called out for help.

A chorus responded, from everywhere and nowhere: Chiaki Nanami, Chiaki Nanami, it’s Chiaki, it’s Chiaki, love that girl, miss her, need her, if she, if we, if they. Familiar voices. Young ones. Harmonious.

If you’re spare parts, you’re stitched with love, you’re filled with devotion, you’re held together with the grieving memory of fifteen terrorists you admired.

///

Fifteen friends.

///

As it happens, Hinata does watch you die again. Before that, however, in a virus of a courtroom, your sister holds her bunny paws to her heart and asks you: “I wonder where you got your personality from?”

You say: “Maybe our dad and our big brother…don’t you think?”

And it’s a little true. Living Dad and Alter Ego definitely blessed you with patience, bravery, and quick wit. A golden triforce all for you, a newborn executable named Chiaki Nanami. Mostly, though—

///

You’re her. You’re not her. You want to break your classmates for what they allowed to happen to the outside Chiaki, and now to you, the so-called traitor. But you won’t. It would be—self-harm. Damage over time. Drop one hit point, turn after turn. It would be—betrayal, a betrayal of their love, and you won’t let anyone get hurt like that again. Not here.

Monokuma grabs your hair, pulls you down, drags you and your sister bleeding along the courtroom floor. Before he does, though, you see yourself reflected in five sets of eyes, the remainder of Class 77B. Strangely, you’re not afraid. You see that they’re remade, just as they remade you. You are and were good enough for them: not a sequel, but a reboot. They're good enough for you.

///

You are Chiaki Nanami, and you are Chiaki Nanami, and after all is said and done, you sleep well.

#danganronpa #danganronpa fanfiction #Chiaki Nanami #Hajime Hinata #Usami #Makoto Naegi #Monokuma #Alter Ego #others mentioned #tw: blood #angst with a bittersweet ending #second person pov #canon rewrite #hope's peak academy arc #Author Had To Hold Back Tears While Writing This

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hanzajesthanza · 24 days

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it’s nice how the hanza dynamics initially established can sometimes compound with more character development further on…

as milva and regis are established to be action and words, doing and thinking, brawn and brains… this is very good on its own as how they are introduced in baptism of fire, but also…

their balanced approaches can be relevant to angoulême’s arc in the company because she has been so disconnected from her body by what she’s suffered, conditioned into thinking of her body as an object and bargaining chip… and with no credence ever given to her mind, soul, identity…

in milva’s domain of the physical body, she can become reconnected with her body, learn that her body is hers and not property of anyone’s… for once notice its movements, feel its feelings, not give it up to others, ignore its pain and retreat into numbness…

and in regis’ domain of thought and the metaphysical, she can recognize her mind and conceptualize herself as a person, immerse herself in her own thoughts and evaluate situations with prudence…

and these are also arcs which milva and regis had to accomplish in their individual respects… milva had to recognize her own bodily autonomy, regis had to sit and think about life…

#‘sit’ well i guess lie in a dark hole. naughty vampires go to dirt jail for 50 years #the elbow-high diaries #f: don’t call me auntie #f: i’m not your uncle dear child #gender is a huge factor here which makes it more beautiful i think #it also parallels a little how geralt and yennefer taught ciri individually and she combined their worlds incomplete without the other #i was thinking about this because of angouleme reluctantly saying that ‘there were no takers when i got there. i was too old…’#‘well’ she blushed visible in the firelight ‘almost none’#like i just want milva and regis to tell her that #1. your value is not determined by the perversions of p*dophiles #2. you are not only your body but your mind and soul #then i smiled thinking about angoulême squawking ‘that’s crap! you are your body. how can you exist without a body!’#disappearance. from behind and above and to the side and in her mind : ‘no idea’#milva doesnt want to be but she is like that one cool P.E. teacher you have who makes you fight for yourself

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youronlydarlin · 4 months

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warning: Sex pollen :), noncon/dubcon, some of them are mean on this one, horny desperate men going insane for your hole, not proofread 😭

Jus' over here havin thoughts about sex pollen infecting your favorite boy man

Finding yourself in the middle of a botched mission, you desperately try to open the door that separates you from your lover. You can hear him hacking, n coughing on the other side. N'd your sweet soul's nearly crying at the thought of what's happening to him. Is he dying !? Pink gas escapes from under the door and you don't even have the time to react before it suddenly opens.

Captain John Price who tries keep some of his composure. You must commend him for it, really. But you turn around to see if the coast's still clear and that's all it takes for his composure to break. Before you knew it you're being lifted into the air. Back pressed tightly against your Captain's chest while he holds you up with the back if your knees. He's got you in a full nelson :( And all of a sudden there's a knife in his hands. You cry out at the thought of what he could do to you but you're silenced the moment he uses it to rip an opening through your trousers, all the while he's rutting against your ass, cause he's just so pent up. Oh, you have to understand!

His dick is inside of you the moment it's freed. Tries to be considerate about it, gives you a few seconds to adjust before he's drilling into you with wild abandon. Fucks you so deep, there's a bulge in your tummy and spots in your vision. Sinks to the floor with you the moment he cums, holding you close to his chest and trying to come up with a decent enough explanation.

Simon "Ghost" Riley who let's out a loud grunt before falling on top of you. The impact makes your head spin, and it momentarily knocks the wind out of your lungs. His body crushes yours beneath the concrete floor and you don't have time to recover before the feeling of phantom hands start to roam your body. And you can no longer blame it on your fall, because your trousers are being ripped away by rough gloved hands.

Poor, little, you can't even object when he wrestles you into a mating press :( Shoving two of his thick digits inside of you with no warning. He's moving them in a scissoring motion, and you cant help but cry at the dry, and painful insertion. He's so mean!

"Shhh, puppy... 'I need this..." Doesn't even say please! Doesn't even give you a warning before the mushroom tip of his cock is breaching past your entrance. It's definitely way thicker than his fingers, and a lot more harder to get used to. He uses your bunched up knees as leverage to fuck you deeper, n deeper till your pretty eyes roll to the back of your skull.

He sounds like an animal when he cums. Growling pure filth to your ear while he grinds his dick inside you. Ready for a round 2?

Johnny "Soap" Mactavish who doesn't even wait. He was already hard as a fucking rock, hearing your cute voice cry out for him on the other side of the door. But now that it's opened, the only thing in his mind is dicking you down till your addicted to his cock.

Very impatient. You're literally like a ragdoll to him and he jus' manhandles you so you're face down, ass up :(

Shoves his fingers in your mouth while pulling your trousers down. He eats you out like a man starved. Like this was going to be his first, and last meal. Not a moment later and he's bullying your hole with his fat cock. Babbling nonsense about how fucking tight you are and how he's "waited to do this for so long". But he cums, and he cums deep.

The definition of painting your insides white.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick who looks like he's in so much pain. Unlike the other boys he tells you not to get close. He's not right in the head, can't you see that?? But you're sweet. Too sweet, and he wonders if you taste just the same. He's wetting his lips before knows it. He feels terrible. Eye fucking you while you're just trying to get him to talk about what's happening. Is he ok? He's not dying, is he? Tell me where it hurts, please.

You fret over him, and he's never felt such embarrassment in his life before. He feels bad, looking down at the massive tent in his pants. But he feels worse when he's pushing you against the wall. He's tried to hold back. Really, he did. But there's just so much a man like him can take in a situation like this. And he's trying to whisper apologies to you while he hasn't fully lost himself.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, just please....Fffuck–let me fuck you. Please..."

He's so desperate n'd whiney. As if he's not making your thighs shake and your brain into goo. He's fucking your mouth with his tongue, sturdy hands grabbing hold of your legs and wrapping them around his firm waist.

It's all too much. You're brain moving slower than your mouth can say "slow down". In a second he's got your trousers to the side, and his pants bunched up on his knees. He's shaking so much you're worried he might topple over. But he doesn't. Instead he slams his hips directly into yours. Your mouth opening in a silent scream.

He cums the moment he gets his dick in you. He's just so sensitive, ok :( And he doesn't stop at just one round, not even two. Three and his cum's leaking out of you, staining the floor and both of your thighs. Still moving his hips like a man possessed. Four, you're nearly passed out. And there's a slight bump in your stomach from where you're sure his cock, and cum is.

Head lying limp on your shoulder, you wonder how many times you've cummed already, or if this was even going to end. He smiles at you, so brightly he looks like your Kyle again. But he's kissing the side of your mouth before biting at your lips.

"Jus one more. Jus' one more, I promise..."

a/n: I literally don't know what bought this on. Are the parts where I lost motivation obvious? Yes? Ok. Fuck Some characters parts are longer than others I'm so sorry 😭 This has been rotting in my drafts for about 2 days. Hope you enjoy this more than I do 😞. Eat up, my loves!

Yours, truly,

–dolly

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jinkiezzsstuff · 3 months

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At First Sight PT2

Alastor x doe!reader

PART ONE PART 3

this is a short part 2 to a request, tbh i didn’t think about continuing it before so i struggled a bit and it’s quite short! i’m so sorry gang ;-; i hope it satiates yall if not lemme know what i can cook up for you

Warnings: love sick alastor + reader, ooc alastor, mates/soulmate trope, mentions of reproduction and pregnancy (dw yall i didn’t do the no no there is no pregnancy it’s just mentioned bc it supposed to be gn), short short, swearing, not proof read, hmmmm i think that’s it lmk whatcha think

wee little taglist for the people who asked kiss kiss: @fairyv-ice @chirimeimei

Tucked underneath Alastors chin you laid comfortably alongside him in bed. You’d been awake awhile now tail thumping softly behind you as you watched the demon sleep his smiled soft and barely showing. He laid in pyjama bottoms only chest bare and on display for you. You absentmindedly traced the scars along his torso feeling him respond with goosebumps every now and again.

“Goodmorning my doe,” Alastors voice rang out, killing the silence. It was shocking to hear his static gone and his regular voice out on display, dripped in sleepy sultry. “Good morning my buck.” You reply sickeningly sweet while crawling up to lean over his face, his eyes were lidded now gazing at you with a loving look in his eyes.

“Did you sleep well?” You asked playing with the stray hair that swept across his face. “Indeed darling very well. I should be good for several days.” He chirped happily, ears flicking. “We should head down, i need to talk to Charlie.” You say with a grimace.

Last night when Charlie caught you and Al, you felt guilty, you knew Charlie was a sweetheart but you practically abandoned her all day for Alastor, then scared her silly with a deal and sex! Groaning you grab your head while Alastor stood. With a snap of his fingers the two of you were dressed, and that did take a load of stress of you. “Come now my doe, I’ll be there the whole time, no shame and if there is we’ll be ashamed together!”

Alastor seemed pretty bright in his exclamation holding his arm out to you. Obviously you trusted Al you gave yourself and soul to him and only him just last night. So while attached at the arm the two of you trotted downstairs.

Arriving downstairs interlocked you were both greeted by all the patrons already in the living area next to the bar. Charlie was the first to make a noise gasping, meanwhile Angel was practically vibrating in his seat. Just as Angel was about to talk Vaggie interrupted. “You made a fucking deal!?” Screamed the fallen angel, hands thrown behind her as the rest of her body lurched forward. Frowning you bit your lip, of course this was gonna be an awkward conversation with Charlie, but with the whole hotel listening. Even worse!

“Neva mind that Vagina! Let’s talk about the real stuff. How big? Seven? Eight? Twelve?! Ouch-“ Vaggie knocked Angel over the head with the back of her spear. “Yikes alright, twelve is greedy…. ten?” Angel whispered cackling at Vaggie who growled at her. Alastor, obviously unhappy, began to crackle with static, black shadows oozing out from the floor and encompassing the room slowly.

At the sight of Alastor’s figure demonically stretching the room fell silent, you only gazed up at the deer slightly aroused by his stature and the way his antlers screwed out like branches. “You’re quite the sight.” You say dreamily, barely even noticing you spoke to begin with, Alastor’s head cracked down to you. Coming back to himself Alastor hummed out adoringly, petting your head but wanting to kiss you, unfortunately that was a step too far for him right now.

“Uhm anyway, YN, can you please tell me about the deal?” Charlie begged worry on her face as she looked to you and Alastor. You felt the guilt crawl at you again. “I… well I’m not sure why but there’s just this pull i have to Alastor, he asked me to be his i said yes i…” You veered off feeling too embarrassed by all the eyes, thankfully Alastor pulled you in theatrically waving his microphone around, taking the attention off you.

“Well this lovely doe was just made for me you see? I’m perfectly capable of protecting such a divine creature and though I don't doubt your ability, princess I'd feel a lot more comfortable being the one to do so.” Alastor fired off sounding like a proper radio host as he did so. Charlie looked confused but then perked up happily.

“This is thee perfect redeeming quality Alastor, love is so pure! This is great!” As Charlie felt giddy, Vaggie felt suspicious eyeing the red demon. “So what did you even sell- what was the deal?” You hummed tapping your finger to your lip; well you didn’t know, just that you gave yourself to him.

Looking up to Alastor for help here he happily obliged. “Worry not you angry little woman,” Alastor replied, pinching Vaggies cheek, her angrily pushing him off. “The contract was nothing greater than marriage.” The entire room, yourself included, was surprised at this. You knew this was a soul binding contract, but for him to make that connection on his own was well to you sweet as ever. Your tail flicked happily behind you as you looked to Alastor who returned to your side.

Charlie was as equally as happy as you were, but Vaggie and Husk kept within the same boat of apprehension. “Why so suddenly?” Asked Vaggie again, but Alastor shrugged her off. “I’m unsure dear, just that i couldn’t resist this little doe. Like fate.” Alastor pondered meanwhile you briefly seethed at Alastor for referring to Vaggie as dear.

“Maybe it’s like some soulmate bullshit between deer?” Angel pipped up, putting in his required two cents. Husk groaned at that, but Charlie squeaked jumping up. “That is totally possible! It happened with my dad! Well, y’know in the beginning.” Charlie chuckled, brushing her hair behind her ear. Alastor shook his head rapidly a soft laugh echoing out of him.

“No way dear, how is that possible?” He mocked bopping Charlie atop the head with his mic, you again weren’t happy hearing him call another demon dear, but you let it fly. “Well you both are deer, could it be instinctual?” Charlie reasoned her pitch, giving away her uncertainty.

You hummed looking up towards Alastor to see him already looking down to you. “I think Alastor and I would need to talk about it privately before we have a group conversation about it. It’s kinda of embarrassing.” You admit already tired of the discussion. Charlie however didn’t like the idea of not having an answer, so with a plan in mind she turned to Vaggie. “Vaggie can you take them to the library, maybe look some stuff up online? We need to figure this out.” Charlie asked giving Vaggie a look that conveyed this was more of a do this rather than a can you do this.

Nodding her head Vaggie looked at you, who looked at Alastor. Alastor shrugged and muttered he didn’t see the issue, so long as you were safe. So you and Vaggie headed off, meanwhile Charlie calmly asked to speak with Alastor in private.

Alone in Alastor’s radio tower, Charlie sat on one side of the broadcasting table while Alastor sat behind it, tunes playing out of him. “So Al,” Charlie started breathing out a deep breath. “Can you please tell me what’s going on with the deal, listen i can’t have them get hurt! I’ll even make a deal.” Charlie said sadly gazing off, she didn’t want to make a deal, but she would.

Alastor watched her, and pitied her odd behaviour. Resting his chin on his hand Alastor sat quietly for a moment, Charlie waiting with a hopeful gleam in her eyes. “It was nothing malicious that i can assure you. Although, i’m not sure what happened between them and myself, I felt pretty agressive in my feelings to protect them. Of course that private moment between us should’ve stayed private,” Alastors words were stern as he glared down at Charlie who shrunk bashfully in her seat.

“But suppose since you know i will confess in that moment of intensity, i did the only thing I knew how to do to my dear. I’m not particularly good with emotions, and so I simply ensured I’d have them with a deal.” Tapping his nails on the desk Alastor kept his composure but inside he was scolding himself for even letting that much truth out. Charlie seemed to like the sound of that though, nodding her head in agreement.

“So you won’t, and you don’t have any plans to hurt them?” Alastors ears pinned back subconsciously, he didn’t enjoy being accused of cruelty when it came to you, and he didn’t know he could be any more truthful. “My dear i swear, on my mother, not a hair on their pretty doe head, will ever be hurt by me.” Holding his right hand up, head high Alastor watched as Charlie eased into a smile. Nodding at him.

Rejoining the crew downstairs Alastor and Charlie were shocked to see you and Vaggie had returned. “How come you guys are back so quick?” Vaggie turned at the sound of Charlie’s voice, eyes bugged slightly. “Yeah you won’t believe what we found.” Vaggie said handing Charlie a book about demons and mating. Charlie didn’t seem too keen on the book ‘uhs’ immediately falling from her mouth.

You stepped up, opening the book to the checked marked place. “It’s species dependent on how mating affects someone, in this case Doe’s are more of a rarity in hell meaning it was an instinct for the two of us to kinda ‘mate’ or ‘bond’ to one another, as if we had to worry about going extinct.” You scoffed watching as Charlie glazed over the words while listening to you. “Weird. It must be because you’re a hellborn and an angel, so technically you can reproduce.”

A record scratch sounded out from Alastor, the lot of you looking towards his stiff figure. “Don’t worry Al, we’re pretty sure you’re still unable to.” Charlie hushed to him, before giving you a look that told you, she didn’t really know that to be true. You weren’t worried though, almost a hundred percent certain that he would not be able to have children. “Welp, at least now we know that’s a thing,” Angel sighed from the background, Vaggie glaring at him.

Pulling you into his side Alastor grinned his poise returned. “Look at us figuring stuff out why wasn’t this just the teamwork we all needed, good job.” Alastor applauded slightly condescending, but Charlie was happy with it nonetheless giving two thumbs up to you and Alastor.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel oneshots #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x you #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor

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maraudersmyloves · 4 months

Note

Hey, I was wondering if you could do a really fluffy Mattheo Riddle always cuddling and touching you (especially late nights in the slytherin common room), I love all your posts, especially the Mattheo riddle content

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆｡ﾟ. ───

Pairing: touchy!Mattheo riddle x reader

Warnings: Mattheo whining about you not being glued to him, a mention of Y/N

Word count: 853

Disclaimer 1: Everything on this Blog is fiction!!!

Disclaimer 2: Made this by listening to the smiths

"2:35 AM". :☆｡ﾟ. ───

You love quiet moments like this. The whole group was just sitting around, everyone doing their own thing in each other's company. Pansy is coloring her nails while sitting on the floor, Theo is reading Dead poets society in the big armchair across from you, Enzo is laying on the floor in front of the couch you're sitting on, twirling his wand and staring at the ceiling, Blaise is making a mixtape next to the fireplace, Draco is studying for potions at the small table your feet are laid on, Tom is scheming about how to ruin some poor souls life and Mattheo is turning a feather into all sorts of things (currently a pigeon) whilst annoying draco. You are just watching your friends and humming along to the earworm in your head, while trying not to fall asleep.

Your heavy eyes fixate on Mattheo and the way he pokes his tongue into his cheek in focus. A singular curl falls into his face and you have the urge to stand up, walk over and move it away as if he couldn't do it himself. He doesn't seem to notice you're staring at him. Pansy does.

"God, Y/N this is disgusting. We get it you have a boyfriend," she says while fake gagging. You startle out of your staring and instead fumble with an answer that won't get more annoyed groans from the boys around you. "I wasn't even doing anything!"

Draco perks up from the corner to give his just lovely input "Just making love eyes at our local idiot over there." You roll your eyes. "Shut up and study"

And if this wasn't already uncomfortable of course Mattheo has something to say too "Why so embarrassed, love? I don't mind" He smirks and swiftly gets hit in the head with Theo's book causing you to snort out a laugh and the others to join in while Mattheo's staring daggers at a smirking Theo. "You know what, for that i'm going to flirt even harder."

Pansy laughs at theo's misery when suddenly she realizes she's going to have to witness you two being all lovey dovey, "What have we gotten ourselfs into"

You watch Mattheo stand up, step over Enzo on the ground and settle down next to you. You smile and let out a small giggle as he kisses you. As your lips connect a warm and fuzzy feeling washes over your body. It's comfortable and familiar. You can hear enzo gag and for some reason that is the funniest thing you've heard all day. You break the kiss by breaking into a fit of giggles that only get stronger when you see Mattheo's amused look.

Chuckling, he pulls you into his lap while you keep laughing. "Love, are you high?" You look up in shock, "No!"

"Then what is happening right now?"

You shrug and hide your face in his shoulder, enjoying the warmth of his body. Your limps start to relax and you let yourself melt into him. Humming in comfort when he gives you a little kiss on the crown of your head you let yourself fall asleep.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆｡ﾟ. ───

When you open your eyes again, they're a bit tacky and you have to blink a few times to realize where you are. Mattheo has apparently carried you up to his dorm and is now cuddling you in his bed. Your whole body feels mushy as you stretch and turn in Mattheo's arms making him grumble in his sleep. You look at the cherry red, heart-shaped clock on his bedside table. You bought it for him at a little market in your hometown, seeing as red's his favorite color and the clock was just too cute not to buy. You were kinda scared to give it to him, thinking it was too 'girly' but he was so happy that you even thought of him over the holidays that he (in his words) was forced to kiss the living shit out of you. It's currently reading at 2:35 AM.

You try to wiggle out of his arms to get your wand to charm yourself some water into the empty glass next to the clock. But Mattheo's strong arms only grip your waist tighter when he realizes you're trying to get out. He kisses your neck and whispers "Stay, love," into your skin. "Téo, darling, I need some water." He whines and pulls you impossibly closer. "You can get water in the morning." He keeps leaving light kisses all over your neck and shoulder to try and coax you into staying and any other day it would've worked but your mouth is feeling more disgusting by the second. "Where's my wand?"

"Left it downstairs," he mumbles, his breath tickling your neck and making you giggle lightly. "Watcha laughing 'bout?" You squirm in his hold as his hands start traveling up your sides, knowing how ticklish you are. "Téo! Téo, stop it, you're tickling me." You breathe out between laughs. He kisses your neck, "That's kinda the point."

You end up forgetting about the water.

#fluff #headcanon #writing #slytherin boys #slytherin #slytherin boys x reader #mattheo x you #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle

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bunny584 · 4 months

Text

OBSESSED: SHOKO (feat. The Boys)

A/N: This took an entirely different route than I expected when I first started dribbling it. This was a fun one 🤭

C/W: Cuckholding, Mature, 18+

Fact: You are the hottest woman alive.

Fact: Shoko is no better than a man.

Shoko is no better than a man because she has used you — your pictures, your smile, your tight hugs — as her personal spank bank.

Truthfully, she can’t really pinpoint the moment you broke her brain.

All she remembers is that there was an inflection point in time. Before meeting you. And after meeting you.

And the funniest part of it all is that you two have nothing in common.

Shoko is a sorcerer at Jujutsu Tech. You are a normie at University of Tokyo.

Shoko can count on one hand how many people she can tolerate. People flock to you in droves. And you like it.

Shoko is red wine and cigarettes. You are champagne and birthday cake.

So how the hell did a bubble gum, pretty pink, girly girl, princess work her way into Shoko’s life? And take permanent residence in a little (extremely large) part of her brain?

Not to mention the havoc you are wreaking in her heart. Whatever is left of the cold, shriveled plumbing system keeping her alive.

When was it exactly?

Shoko lights another cigarette on her short 2 mile walk home. You have a habit of making her burn through her vices.

Was it the night you went out dancing?

When the dress you wore made Shoko see God?

You grinded every part of your mind-altering curves on her, and Shoko left sopping wet. At home she immediately reached for her vibrator. Unable to look herself in the eye for a full day after that.

Or maybe it was the time you fell asleep curled up in her lap. Wearing one of her old ratty softball shirts, smelling like her shampoo. Small, rhythmic breaths flowing from your lips.

You looked like the missing puzzle piece in Shoko’s life.

No, no.

It’s definitely was the time you came barreling into her apartment with balloons and flowers and cupcakes that were too sweet. All because Shoko had finally mastered her reversed curse technique before the prodigal sons.

You can barely even grasp the concept of curses. And why would you?

A soft, gentle soul like you couldn’t muster enough negativity to form a curse.

You live in the clouds. Among the angels. You can’t see curses and yet — somehow —you’re the most supernatural person in any room.

She’s completely, fully, idiotically smitten with you.

And so is everybody else.

You pretty, unaware little thing. You have the two strongest sorcerers at Jujutsu Tech and their personal medic wrapped around your dainty fingers and you have no idea.

Suguru? He stares. Vision sharper than a hawk. He watches you talk, eat, walk, text, think. Suguru anticipates your next breath and would kiss oxygen into your mouth if he could. Even still, despite how taken he is, Suguru is the best at concealing his puppy love.

Satoru is the absolute worst.

Limitless goes off the second you step into a room. And Satoru rarely clicks off his technique otherwise. Even when it’s just Shoko or Suguru around.

He all but chains you to his body. He’s always lifting you, hugging you, carrying you, holding your hand, holding your hair. Satoru would crawl inside of your body and live there, if he could.

Then there’s Shoko.

Who seethes when anyone looks your way. But also masturbates to the thought of other people touching you.

A fucking mess of a conundrum, right?

The first time it happened was about 8 months ago. Definitely one too many glasses of Cabernet were poured. You two were gabbing on the phone. Exchanging the best and worst sex you’ve had to date.

And you. In that melodic, breathy, gossamer thin voice of yours that belongs in Heaven’s choir started saying the dirtiest things. About how cock-drunk you were. How you begged and pleaded for more. Swallowed cum like it was your only sustenance. And squirted all over your lover, only to kiss it off his face after.

Shoko touched herself until she came right then and there. On the phone. You unknowingly talking her through her one of the most satisfying orgasms of her life.

Since then it’s been a horrible habit she’s given into time and time again.

And who’s to say? Maybe it’s from constantly being in the shadows of Suguru’s Sun and Satoru’s Moon that there’s comfort in watching from the side lines?

Maybe she’s found the sweet pleasure in that pain and it’s manifested as her lust for others having their way with you? And her blind infatuation with you?

No, wait.

Not blind.

With you it’s like she has the Six Eyes. And with you, so does everyone else.

Shoko drags in a long, exasperated breath. Pausing just outside her apartment entrance, stomping out the last of her menthol.

If the time she spent mulling over you in her mind could be converted caloric energy - she’d be a supermodel by now.

Whatever.

Today’s the best day of the week. Friday.

Which means when Shoko opens her door, you’re going to be fussing about the kitchen. Cooking some kind of dessert for Movie Night.

The Boys usually trip over themselves getting to Shoko’s apartment after classes. But there’s always an idyllic 15 minutes where Shoko has you all to herself.

15 minutes in Heaven. Like she’s a damn middle school girl.

Shoko opens her door and nearly flatlines.

You’re evil.

An evil, mean, cruel tease.

You KNOW anyone with eyes would have a stroke at the site of you.

Fully bent over at the waist, rummaging through pots and pans. Not a single blemish on your silky smooth skin. Your lilac boy shorts could not BE any tighter. And of course, they’re just short enough to not cover the plump shelf of your lower ass cheeks.

Shoko’s hands start twitching. Like she’s going through withdrawal.

You pop back up with a triumphant “there it is!” An empty small pot in your hands. And Shoko thinks she’ll have to add a heart attack to her growing list of ailments.

Your matching lilac tank top is egregiously and deliciously small. The sliver of tummy between the hem of the top and waist of your shorts could bring civilizations to collapse.

Not to mention that the apartment is cold. And your nipples are so painfully responsive.

Sin.

You are sin.

Wrapped in the most beautiful frame of a woman.

“Babe!! You’re already home. I let myself in because the icing for these cupcakes takes forever to get right.”

You flash your Colgate smile, ensnaring Shoko in your trap.

“You’re going to give Satoru and Suguru a heart attack.” Her, you’re going to give her a heart attack.

“Hmm? Why do you say that?” So non-chalant. So oblivious.

Shoko gestures to your outfit. Attempting to mirror your nonchalance. But, ironically, she can feel her face tumbling down the descending shades of red.

Genuine confusion weaves though your features and she almost screams.

“Shoko please. You know they don’t see me that way!”

Everyone, gorgeous. EVERYONE. Sees you that way.

Before she could edge another word out, the familiar hum of Limitless buzzing inward splits Shoko’s thoughts in half.

Dammit, they’re early.

“Daddy’s Home!”

Satoru charges straight at you because of course he would.

“Satoru!!!” You’re a plaything in his arms. Legs tightening around his waist.

Shoko would pay an inordinate amount of money to trade places with him.

She watches through an envy-green screen. How easily Satoru spins you and tosses you on the kitchen counter. Situating himself between your soft thighs.

How would your body bounce against his hips thrusting into you?

“You have to taste this, pretty boy.”

Tsk. He’s not THAT pretty.

Both Shoko and Suguru watch through parted lips as you shove half a cupcake into Satoru’s mouth. Neither of you miss how his tongue flicks between your fingers. Or how his hips lean closer to your barely clothed flower.

He lets out an exaggerated groan. “Fucking, perfect. I could eat your cupcake..all night.”

“You perv.”

You laugh and shove Satoru back from between your legs. Then turn in Shoko’s direction.

Silently curving your index finger forward, you beckon. Both Shoko and Suguru start toward you like well-trained, love-struck pets.

“No pouting Suguru, you’re pretty too. And up next.”

And Shoko’s shoulders sink like the child who is picked last for dodge ball teams.

Her eyes trail Suguru’s back - wishing to every God she was born with a technique allowing her to take over a host’s body.

“Me next.” He settles between your legs.

Suguru, the master of subtlety. Everyone but you can pick up on the strain in his baritone.

There’s something so painfully sensual about the way he grips both of your thighs. Your skin is so smooth, so pliant under his large hands. Waiting on your fingers to invade his mouth.

How pretty would your lips look like wrapped around his fingers? Do your cheeks hollow out when you suck on something larger?

Shoko crosses her right foot over the left. As if jamming her thighs together would stop the growing pool of lust between her legs.

“Alright babe, best for last. I have something for you too.”

Suguru takes his time pulling away from the warmth of your core. And Shoko has to strap her mind to her body to keep from sprinting at you.

Eventually, she nestles between your legs and is at eye level with your pert nipples. Immediately caught in a trance. So close to her mouth.

“Blushing so much!” Your thumb pulls Shoko’s focus back to earth.

Blushing so much because she wants to watch her best friends fuck you. Then lick your cunt clean after they’re done.

“I’m not, what’s my surprise?”

“So demanding.” You giggle. Your palm takes away Shoko’s view of your perky, hard nipples.

“Open.”

Shoko’s jaw hangs at your command. Cold glass hits her lips before the full bodied, decadent Cabernet does.

Red wine. Because she hates sweets.

You’re as thoughtful as you are beautiful and everything you do is a turn on.

“Mmmm,” Shoko hums and you gift her vision back.

“Amazing, right?” You take your own sip, maintaining eye contact.

Shoko’s eyes fall to your lips. And how you roll the wine over your tongue. Savoring each drop.

How would your tongue feel rolling around her mouth? Her neck? Her nipple? What kind of sounds would you make if her tongue rolled around your petals? Your clit? What do you taste—

“Movie time?” You break Satoru, Suguru and Shoko’s daze.

All three of them scramble around you. Grabbing your cupcakes, snacks and wine to settle in on Shoko’s huge sectional couch.

You drape your body over Satoru and Suguru’s lap. A little loose limbed kitten. Shoko situates herself on the long arm of her chair.

Far enough to drown into her own spiral. Close enough to register everything you do in the the most permanent part of her mind.

You nuzzle your cheek into Suguru’s thigh. His forearm immediately drops in front of his crotch. Undoubtedly to avoid spearing you with his manhood.

“Play with my hair, Suguru?”

“Yes. Of course.”

His free hand weaves into your hair. The soft, decadent moan you exhale sent visible shudders down their spines.

Shoko’s eyes laser to Satoru’s hands. His eyes haven’t touched the screen since the movie began. His grasp encompasses your entire back thighs. Slowly gliding them up to the delicate mounds of your ass.

“God that feels amazing.”

Satoru’s Adams Apple drags along the column of his throat. “Yeah?”

“So good.”

You deepen the arch in your back and the physical restraint Satoru imposes on himself is visible.

The only person watching the movie is you.

And the room tilts on its axis the moment you melt deeper into the boys’ hands. Their names, quiet praise, seep from your lips.

Satoru and Suguru exchange hooded gazes.

As if to commiserate about how fucking hot you are. And how it’s taking active awareness of every single muscle to not do vulgar things to you.

Not even a backward glance Shoko’s way.

Again.

Leaving Shoko out of the conversation. Again.

She angrily tosses a blanket over her lap. Frustration bubbling up her throat. Her fingers clumsily fumble with her zipper. She’s pissed. Angry. Fucking jealous.

And so turned on she might crawl out of her skin if she doesn’t touch herself this goddamn second.

Shoko’s fingers are ice cold against her warm, wet clit. It’s agonizing. How incredible the pressure feels.

You look delicious. So small between their laps. Far too tiny to handle them both.

But God it would be so hot.

It would be so fucking hot. To watch you choke all over Suguru’s cock. Slobber into his lap. All while Satoru bullies his length into your soft, dewy pussy. Helpless. Overstimulated.

Getting used like the pretty Barbie doll you are.

And the way they touch you, so brazenly, in front of her.

Like Shoko’s presence isn’t even remotely threatening. She isn’t any competition for their big hands and broad shoulders. Masculine frames. That’s why she’s just sitting there. Pathetic. Rubbing herself dumb just watching.

She would be so happy, so fucking eager to lap you clean. Pet your swollen, abused folds when they’re done with you. Hump a pillow while she sucks your nipples. You’d moan and whine and squirm under her touch.

Would you beg? Or laugh at how pitiful she is? Getting off to remnants of you when the Boys have had their way?

Shoko accidentally choking on her own drool draws almost everyone’s attention to her. The hand that was molesting her sensitive bud freezes.

Suguru’s eyes flicker back down to you, sleeping beauty.

Their coordinated touch lulled you to bed. Satoru’s eyes linger on Shoko long enough to make her simmer under his gaze. She blinks back to the movie, credits now scrolling up the screen.

How long was Shoko day dreaming?

“Let’s get her to bed.” Suguru gently pulls you onto his chest. You sleepily drape your arms around his neck.

Satoru follows close behind him into Shoko’s room. Because putting the smallest little kitten to bed is a two person job.

Shoko scrambles to zip up her pants and swipe the last of her arousal on the blanket. She gets to the doorway and watches the Boys dote over you in a way that makes them slightly more endearing.

You wake up long enough to murmur goodnight. Floating your arms in the air so the boys can bring their hugs to you. Both of them place quick pecks on your forehead. Leaving you with the cutest, most content smile on your sleepy face.

At least Suguru can hold it together. He weaves out of Shoko’s room quickly.

Satoru, however, keeps stopping along the 10 foot pace to the doorway to just stare. As if a monster from your nightmares will pop up the second he leaves you alone.

Shoko snorts, arms crossing her chest. “Put it back in your pants, yes?”

“Look who is talking.” Sly grin pulls across Satoru’s perfect, blinding teeth. Shoko could punch him right now.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Ieiri. I have the fucking six eyes. What do you think I’m talking about.”

Satoru wires around Shoko’s stunned body.

He and Suguru are out of her apartment before she can bat her eyelashes 5 times.

Shoko all but sprints to the kitchen. She gulps the rest of her red wine. Something. Anything to burn Satoru’s comment out of her mind. And to put out the desperate flame between her legs.

You’re in her bed.

She’s just been masturbating watching her two best friends touch you.

One of her best friends is FULLY aware of this all.

Her hands shakenly pour another, head sized glass of Cabernet. Which is doing absolutely nothing for how lusty she feels right now. And everything to destroy her self control.

Why does she have to sit on the sidelines?

Why do they get access to you that she doesn’t?

She downs the last few drops of red wine. Storming back to her room. She’s going to confront this once and for all.

You’re strewn over her bed like a silk scarf. Rolling, tender hills of flesh. Valleys of feminine curves. Shoko grips both of your dainty wrists. Tossing you onto your back.

Sleepy groans bubble out of you. Your eyes lazily slide open. Not an ounce of concern on your face. Full of trust. Even though Shoko is glaring down at you like she wants to crawl in your skin.

“Bad dream?”

“No.” Shoko is kurt. Angry. Jealous.

“What is it?”

“I just…” Moonlight is kissing your face in the way Shoko wants to.

“T-The boys,” Your eyes flutter expectantly. Nose crinkling in fuzzy confusion.

“The-the boys always get to touch you. And pick you up. And tuck you in. And kiss you. And-and I-im just…”

“Do you want to kiss me?”

Shoko hears her heart stop beating.

What did you just ask? So casually. As if you didn’t just catapult her into another dimension.

“H-huh? What?” Shoko didn’t hear you right.

There’s no way.

“I asked if you want to kiss me.” Something other than innocence lines your voice. And it pets Shoko’s flame

“I—I uh. M-. Yes.”

“So kiss me.”

Only one second of shocked hesitation passes before Shoko crashes her lips into yours.

Of course your lips taste like this. Marshmallow soft. Cotton candy sweet. Mini explosions of pleasure surge in all directions of her body.

“God,” Shoko groans, bringing the back of your head impossibly closer to her.

Melting into the soft hills and rolls of your sweet tongue. Shoko whines into your mouth like the desperate puppy she is. She’s drunk. Intoxicated. And it has nothing to do with the wine.

Do you know that?

Have you always known?

How does anyone ever make it out of their embrace with you with their wits about them?

“Baby,” you sigh into Shoko’s swollen lips.

Her hands tremble against your waist. Twitching to explore. Dying to map every inch of your body.

She lets out little, staccato moans of protest when you pull away.

“Feel better?”

Your starry eyes sparkle between Shoko’s. Sleepy, pretty smile playing on your puffy lips.

Shoko nods wordlessly. You’ve already stolen her logic and her heart. Might as well add her voice to the list.

You place a chaste kiss on Shoko’s lips before cocooning underneath the sheets.

Like you didn’t just make her fall in love.

“Goodnight, baby.”

PART. II

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cherryredstars · 1 month

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Ok so i have this fic idea where reader and mig are from different universes and reader is a scientist and one time mig and her get drunk and start talking about the multiverse and suddenly they are on the topic of what would happen if people from different universes had a baby together. (You see where i am going with this...) they end up drunkenly fucking and saying it's for "research" because they can't admit to themselves that they are in love. If this request is too complicated feel free to ignore. Thank you in advance cherry!! I hope u have a marvelous new year!! 💕

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Penetrative Sex, Mentions of Oral Sex, Mentions of Animal Testing (for science), Breeding Kink

A/N: Thank you, love! I hope you're well!!!

You know there is a process.

And you know this isn't it.

There are supposed to be hypotheses and written out procedures. Dependent and independent variables, a control group. Fucking hell, you should be experimenting on fucking mice. You should be limiting the margins of error, should be going with the most direct, straightforward pursuit for results.

And yet...

You don't stop Miguel when he pushes you back onto the couch. You don't pause or even really think when he's pushing your pants down your legs, placing kisses along the skin as he goes. You lift your hips to aid him when his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, shivering when his warm breath fans over your exposed sex. If this experiment was in any sense proper, you would get straight into it. Cut out all the unneeded steps. But you can't help but pull his head closer to your aching core, craving the way his warm tongue laps at you. If you weren't already drunk, you would be drunk on this feeling alone.

But god, nothing has even been more satisfying than doing the work. You know the data would be void in a real experiment. The trials bleeding into each other hardly make for adequate data, but the way you beg him for more is involuntary. It feels too good, to have him desperately thrusting into you. It makes your mind numb, and everything you know about your life's passion is erased. The only thing that fills your head is the words Miguel grunts into you ears, promises of fucking a baby into you. Vows to make you bloated with load after load of his cum. That all it'll take is one of his orgasms to make it happen.

You guess that is a hypothesis in itself: Miguel O'Hara can get you pregnant with just one orgasm.

Too bad he's too desperate to find out if that hypothesis is correct. Because he doesn't stop at one. No, he keeps going. One after the other with no breaks in-between. But you guess that's to be expected, he is a man of science himself. A passionate one at that.

He's almost crazed in the way he overstimulates himself. Sweat beading in his hairline as he grunts down at you, watching the way he creamy cock slides in and out of your abused pussy. You've lost count of how many times you've come alone, but you know based on the way your body shivers and jolts that it's far more than you've ever had before. It's almost painful now, the way your next orgasm rips through you and shatters your soul again. You let out strangled breaths as you fight through the aftershocks and the continued pleasure of Miguel's cock slamming against your cervix. You swear you black out before he finally stops, your eyes and mind groggy as he pulls your hips flush against his as he spills into you.

You can feel him trying to push deeper into you as he pants ruggedly, his cock twitching against your walls until he's milked dry. Even when he's done filling you, he stays connected. He collapses onto you, breathing in the linger smell of sweat and sex on your skin.

"Got to make sure it takes."

Well, does the process really matter if you get the desired result anyway?

Part 2 Part 3

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unorthodoxfaithxx · 2 months

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Crybaby Yandere Boyfriend when he thinks you’re cheating, Part 2

Nsfw ; AFAB

Quick recap : Crybaby boyfriend has you in his clutches after he sees you with another man at the cafe. He confronts you about it and now you’re here.

“I’m gonna fuck you ‘til you can’t think of anyone else.”

He quickly tugs your pants off, mouth watering at the sight of your beautiful thighs he loves to bite so much.

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous. Only for me. Only for me…” He mutters that last part to himself, entranced by the way your eyes seem to pierce through his soul.

Laying on his stomach, he laps at your cunt like he’s was a man in the desert, and your body is his only oasis. You smell divine, and your own moans are rivaled by the volume of his. You arch your back, your boyfriend grunting as you move your hips closer to his face with your hands clutching his hair.

When you finally reach that mind-breaking orgasm, he looks as you with puppy-eyes, kissing you on the lips with a, “See, aren’t I good? No one can take care of you like I can. He’ll never be able to make you cum like I do.”

You begin to ask what who he’s referring to but he wants none of it. He silences you with a bite to your neck, whispering in your ear.

“Don’t,” He whines, “I don’t wanna hear you praising anyone else but me.”

You feel your lower part ache with need, and when you reach out to him with so much want and love in your eyes, you swear you see his eyes start to water again.

You beg, and he can do nothing else than take care of his sweetheart.

Panties taken off, he gently places a hand on your stomach. He slides his hard member into your entrance, and both of you gasp at the feeling.

He picks up a ravenous pace in no time, leaving you to melt in a state of bliss as you hear him chant, “Please don’t leave me, don’t leave me, I love you, don’t..” with each hard thrust.

He pushes your legs back to the point that your tits are squished between your legs, encroaching the deepest part of your being with intense passion. Your pussy throbs in pleasure, lewd squelching noises doing little to overshadow your cries.

When he starts playing with your clit, the overstimulation nearly breaks you. You’re about to cum again when your loverboy abruptly stops, leaving you empty and craving so much more.

He looks at you with a ferocity in his eyes. “Tell me I’m the only one for you and I’ll help you finish. Say that you’re mine.”

He starts back up again with an agonizingly slow pace, “Come on, say it!” He coaxes. You relent with ease, and the relief on his features is palpable, so clear that you can’t help but feel bad for making him feel so insecure. Of course you love him. You have no problem telling him that, watching with a loving smile as he grins down back at you, eyes glassy.

“Thank you,” he says, and immediately moves to devour you again, pumping hard into you while you wrap your legs around him. He meets your lips in a sloppy kiss, saliva trailing between the two of you as his tongue explores the crevices of the mouth he loves so much. You tangle your tongue with his and his cock twitches in excitement.

“Fuck it, I want to breed you so bad, cover that sweet pussy in my cum. I wanna fill you up so much. Please baby, please? Let me cum in you.”

With him begging like that, how can you say no? You know he’s close because he grips you tighter, breath stuttering. He looks so cutely pleased when you say yes, and his thrusts become rough and haggard. Warmth fills your core as you hear him cry out, whining against your neck with a bite as he releases into you.

Despite being finished, he refuses to let you go, opting to pull you into his chest as he rests his head atop yours. He sighs contentedly.

Minutes pass in peace when you get a text message from a certain someone.

“Oh look,” you cry, “It’s my sister! She says she’s in town with her boyfriend.

You show him a picture. Much to his shock, she’s your TWIN, smiling with the man he was sure he saw you with earlier in the cafe that day.

If he had any more tears to cry, it’d be of embarrassment.

#male yandere #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere writing #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere male #yandere drabble #soft yandere #yandere imagine #yandere boyfriend #yandere x darling #yandere x you #Part 2

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luminiamore · 18 days

Text

SOUL, PT.2

basketball player ony x black spiritual reader

first part here.

warnings: bomb dick, vibrating panties (idea came to me last minute)

masterlist

The day finally arrived. The man you had been crushing on for months— the man who sucked the soul out of pussy just two days ago— was taking you out on a date. Your nerves were racking up, your breathing heavy as you stared at yourself in your mirror. The scent of lavender and the burning blunt you just rolled are lingering in your nostrils. It was 5 p.m., 30 minutes before Ony told you he was coming with your outfit.

You were stuck in the mirror, fixing the baby hairs on your ginger wig as you took another hit. Your head was being hit pretty hard by the effects of the marijuana. Your gold and stone bracelets jiggled around with every movement you made. Why were you so nervous? This is the same man that slobbered over your clit on your clit appallingly not too long ago. So, why were you so nervous? You jumped when you heard a ding coming from your phone.

“omw mama.”

Another hit. You read the text without even clicking on the message, and if Ony was the type of nigga to go 50 on a 20 road, you had about 10 minutes before he came knocking on your door. You quickly wrap a pink silk robe from one of your hangers on your body, not putting on panties because you have a gut feeling. You already showered, already lathered your body in your strawberry body milk. Your light makeup sat perfectly against your skin, your lips brown and glossed.

The only thing left for you to do was to spray a bit of your Kayali Sugar Candy perfume, and after the final spritz, you heard a light knocking sound coming from outside your room. Your heart is beating ten times faster— he didn’t even tell you he was outside. Another hit, and you ash it out outside your window.

Your feet could barely be heard on the ground as you rushed to open the door and shit. Seeing Ony outside of his usual attire was doing more to you than you cared to admit. He was in a white dress shirt and black suit pants— all dressed up for the date he was taking you on. His hair was freshly cut, the first two buttons on his shirt were loose, and he had a freshly ripened hibiscus bouquet in his right hand and a medium-sized bag on his left. How did he know those were my favorite flowers?

“Heard you tell that girl you always with that you really liked these.” He smirks a bit when your eyes widen in realization that you said your thoughts out loud. You grab the flowers from his grasp, fingers burning when you accidentally graze his hand, and mutter a small, “Thank you, they’re beautiful. Come in, Ony.”

His aura alone was so potent, so calm and safe, and inside, you knew your spirit guides were probably cheering you on. Your cat’s immediate approach to him, rubbing its head on his legs, was a sign that you made the right choice. Waiting for him to pet her, she plopped down on the floor, and unsurprisingly, Ony crouched down to honor her wishes.

You wanted him to take you now, but you knew Ony was a man of his word. He wouldn’t fuck you until after tonight. You just had to wait until after tonight. You glance up to where a regular clock is hanging above your door.

5:25.

..Waiting until after tonight suddenly seemed like forever.

“Not as beautiful as you. You smoking in here?” The smell of it was immediately detected when you opened the door. He smiled internally because he was waiting outside your apartment in his Hellcat while he texted you and lit his own joint. You really were meant for each other.

Ony thought you looked good enough to eat. Again. Nothing but a thin robe on you, accentuating your curves and showing a slight peak of your voluptuous brown tits. Flashes of you moaning his name and bucking your hips wildly onto his tongue started slipping into his mind— would it really be wrong to taste you again?

Your pretty voice breaks him out his thoughts, “Yea, you want a hit? Or two?” You release a chuckle, the sound making the tall man shiver a bit. He takes a deep breath— patience. He has to have patience. You’ll be moaning his name soon enough.

“Nah, was smoking before I got here. Here, mama.” He hands you the bag he was holding after you got done putting the flowers on your kitchen counter. You were a bit.. skeptical when Ony asked if he could dress you for tonight, worried that he might choose an outfit that you wouldn’t like.

What you didn’t know is that Ony observed you. Studied your peculiarities and the way you dressed when you walked up into Econ, he wouldn’t have asked such a question otherwise. He had precise knowledge of what to give you, and it was evident when you took the bag from him and found an exquisite crochet skirt set.

The skirt ended with shades of light to a deep royal purple, and the top had no straps. Flower patterns were all over it. There was also a pair of shoes, white mini heels with thin straps. And when you reached the bottom of the bag, you saw panties, purple, and flower patterns all over it, too.

“Ony, this is- It’s gorgeous. I-”

He kisses your cheek and gently pushes the items to your chest, “Go put ’em on. Reservation’s at 6:30.”

You giggle and nod, rushing to your room on your tiptoes. In your living room, Ony is waiting for you, lying down on your comfortable couch and petting your cat after she jumps onto his lap. He has reason to believe that you two wouldn’t make it outside if he came inside your room with you.

You take your time, slowly putting each piece on to not stretch the crochet material. Your last step was the panties, and you couldn’t help but feel that they were slightly heavier than any of the panties you owned. You’re about to examine it a little more, but you stop short when you hear Ony’s voice: “You ready, mama?”

Any confusion about the panties was long gone after you put them on, following the heels. After spritzing your perfume one more time, you grab your keys and head out the door, Ony following closely behind you.

It was a peaceful ride to wherever Ony was taking you, with only soft Brent Faiyaz music playing in the background and the light-burning sound of the half-finished joint he offered you. At every red light stop, you would let him take the hit until both of you finished it.

He parked his car in front of a garden-like spot just before you ashed it out, just in time. You are about to reach your hand to open your door but fall short when you hear a click!

“You should know better.” Was all he said before he got out of the driver’s seat and got to your side. As he opens the door for you, he grabs your hand to guide you out and leads you to a person who is ready to seat you both. Hand in yours the entire time. “Reservation for Onyankopon, please.”

The man gives a smile and gestures for you both to follow him. It would be an understatement to describe how beautiful the area was when you surveyed it. It was like a restaurant in a garden of flowers. You are led by the person to a table surrounded by grass and daises, with occasional butterflies flying around you.

“How did you even find this place?” You ask in complete awe. Ony spent a while trying to find a place he knew you would like. You didn’t seem like the type of person to like classy restaurants, and he definitely didn’t want to take you to some low-end place. He wanted to find something that resembled you. A place where you would feel completely comfortable.

And well, when you sat down, and a white butterfly made its way onto your awaiting finger... Ony couldn’t help but think he made the right choice. You look like a goddess. An ethereal being that was all his. “I drove by it one time, and it reminded me of you. You like it?”

He hoped you did. The expression on your face wasn’t telling him enough. He wanted to hear the words come out of your mouth, or else he would drown in his anxiety. All he wanted to do was please you.

“I love it, Ony.” A bright smile graced your face. You never looked more pretty— aside from when you made those gorgeous faces when he was pleasuring you.

A server came to take your order, Ony ordering for himself before the woman turned to you,

“And for you, miss?”

“Could I please have the-” The sensation of intense pressure vibrating on your clit causes you to stop your sentence with a faint gasp. Both of your hands are gripping the table to provide support.

“Miss? Are you okay?”

“You good, mama?” You look up when Ony questions and catch the faux concern in his eyes, his lips twitching up a bit as he almost fails to contain his smile. This was his doing. You knew those panties were different. And you seriously should’ve questioned why he bought you a pair anyway. Fuck it felt so good.

You steady your voice so you don’t stutter when you speak up, “… I’m okay. Could... I have the-the Shrimp Fried Rice, p-please.”

You curse yourself internally when you stumble upon your words. You observe as she reluctantly nods and accepts your order. You would’ve flushed your head down in embarrassment, but in your defense, you had a vibrator going at full speed on your clit. Fuck whatever she was thinking about you right now.

The minute she walks away from the table, you give Ony the meanest glare you could muster— which, to him, wasn’t doing much. In retaliation, he just turned the vibration up, causing you to yelp silently.

“Ony! W-why?” You whimper out as quietly as you can so as not to raise attention from the people around you. He just shakes his head, amused at how weak he could get you.

“You look so pretty like this, mama. Enjoy yourself, hm? You deserve it.”

He couldn’t get his mind off the events that occurred when you came to his dorm. Could you even blame him? For wanting to see more of those pretty faces you make. For wanting to eat you whole again.

He realized he couldn’t outright finger you in a public setting, not here anyway. He didn’t want to wait to fuck you so he could witness you fall apart like you did last time. He longs for you with a strong desire. Even 72 hours later, the flavor of your juices is still lingering on his tongue. “But-”

“Shh. Just try not to get too loud, yeah? Don’t want anyone else seeing those gorgeous faces you make.”

Squeezing your thighs together, your head falls back against your chair. This goes on for a good while, Ony just staring at you, biting your lips to stop the moans bottling in your throat from getting too loud. He watches as your pretty lashes flutter open and close while your eyes roll in the back of your head.

You rub your lower hips against the chair subtly in quick, fast motions to stave off your impending orgasm. Light gasps released from your throat when you feel a burning sensation in your abdomen. Just when you start feeling like the dam is about to burst and ruin the only thing that holds you up right now, everything comes to an end.

The vibration, your rubbing— nothing but your ears buzzing can be heard until you finally register what just happened. You don’t have time to dwell on it much because your waiter comes back with what you both ordered.

“Would you like some water, miss?” And this time, Ony grants you the mercy of answering for you, ears still buzzing and clit still twitching because of your ruined orgasm.

“She would, please.” When the waiter walks away from your table, Ony almost cracks under the pleading look you give him. He can’t believe it took him this long to ask you out. What if someone got to you before him? He wouldn’t be able to live with himself.

Your soft and crackling voice reaches his ears, “Please, Ony. Let me-”

“Eat your food, mama. I said enjoy yourself, never said you could cum.”

Giving him a pout is all you can do, and his tone indicates that this is not a subject for discussion. The rest of the night went surprisingly well. The conversation was full of rich details about both of you. Only told you many stories about him, how he got to be a basketball player, and how it was a dream of his since he was a toddler. In return, you told him how you even started your spiritual journey, spoke about your childhood even because you were just so comfortable around him.

He didn’t turn back on the vibrator for the remainder of the evening, only listening to the sweet melody of your voice whenever you said something or laughed at something he said. It seemed like you hadn’t been here for that long when the bill came. You were truly in the present moment with Ony, so you lost all sense of time. But you caught a glance at your phone— 9:30.

Damn. It’s already been three hours? Ony takes out his wallet and pulls out some cash. He gently grabs your hand to pull you out of your chair so that you and he can leave together. Before you know it, you both are on your way back to your apartment. What catches you off guard is the intense vibration from the restaurant coming back, causing you to let out a loud moan in his passenger seat. Your passenger seat after tonight, if he was being honest.

Your body thrashes against the seat belt, hips bucking wildly because you are still so horny after being left on the edge like that. “F-Fuck!”

He pretends to be unfazed, his eyes still focused on the road as you release the honey moans contained in his car.

“Can you hold it f’me? You’re almost home, mama. I’ll make you cum as much as you want when we get there.”

He must like torturing you. That’s the only explanation. At his words, you don’t think you ever worked harder to stave off an orgasm in your life. The pressure feels so good, your body bubbling with heat and the pleasure being felt in every corner. You wail when the vibrator hits a particular spot on your clit due to your hips rapidly shaking and moving.

Your breathing starts to become erratic as you release light hiccups. Your efforts to not cum are so intense that tears are falling from your brown eyes. Why was it taking so long to get home?

“I n-need to.. cum. Please!”

How do you do that? Look so divine while your pussy is being overstimulated? He almost wants to let you have cum because you look so pretty while trying to beg for him. But then he thinks about how he doesn’t want you finishing on anything other than the massive tent in his pants, and he figures— you can wait a bit. He’s pulling up in your garage anyway, and he wasn’t going to fuck you in his car for your first time together.

Your heavy breathing and the sudden slam of Ony’s door are all that remains in the car when he puts it in park. He opens your door and swiftly holds you in a bridal style to your apartment number. He presses light kisses to your cheek, his tatted hand rubbing gently on your wide hips.

He doesn’t wait a second to devour your lips once you open your door, your moans being muffled by the sheer force of the kiss. His lips were soft and sweet against yours, fitting perfectly as your lip gloss was smeared onto him. Still in his hold, you weakly point to the direction of your room, which he follows wordlessly. Heels are long gone, and been thrown in the hall amid your make-out session.

He plops you down on your mattress, and you don’t hesitate to yank him down towards you into another brutal make-out session, your smooth legs encircling his waist. You gasp when he firmly squeezes the fat of your tits, allowing him to dip his tongue into yours, deepening the kiss.

Fuck, you wanted him so bad. Your skirt rises, and soon, there’s nothing but his pants and your panties separating the two of you. Ony was unusually big.. you knew this when you first saw his print at his dorm. And right now, as he was fumbling to take his belt off, your mind was scrambling, trying to figure out how you were going to fit all of him inside of you.

All thoughts went out the window when he ripped your damp panties off in one go and immediately started playing with the obscene amount of slick that’s been gathering ever since he came to pick you up. Your cute sounds are heaven to him.

His deep voice whispers in your ear, “You’re so wet, baby. Don’t need me to prep you, right?”

His fingers are moving rapidly against your clit, as he is awestruck by how his hands keep slipping off out of rhythm due to your wetness. Or maybe he was already drunk on you, desperate to split your pussy apart on his cock. His pants aren’t even entirely off before he’s fisting his fat cock out of his boxers and slapping his brown tip right on your pussy lips, creating wet squelching sounds.

“Could just slip right in with how you’re leaking all over your sheets. You gonna take it, mama?”

And he was right. Your wetness was creating a dark stain on your bed, likely gonna start seeping into the mattress. You sneak a glance down at Ony’s ministrations, and you immediately try to move your hips away. This man was dead-ass walking around with a third leg. It was so big, it actually scared you. How the fuck was that supposed to fit inside of you? Even your last fling wasn’t this hung.

He immediately pulled your hips back towards him, refusing to let you run away from the deep fucking he’s been craving to give you. “Don’t do that. Take it f’me, baby. Please?”

You whimper, his pleading tone getting you even more wetter. “O-Ony.. you’re too b-big! I can’t- Ooo fuck.”

You didn’t have time to finish your sentence before he sank his length past your tight walls, making you feel every inch of him. Fuck, he was so deep, and he almost wanted to cum right there. He looks down at you and shit.

You never looked more beautiful, as he said. Your mouth is constructed into a lovely “o” shape, and your eyes roll back so deep into your skull he can see your white eye sockets. You were drooling, the feeling of his dick inside of you simply too much for your tiny brain to handle. He wasn’t gonna last long.

Your wet cunt was so stretched out, and Ony didn’t even give you a second to relax before he started feeding you deep, harsh strokes. You could do nothing but let tears fall from your eyes and wail his name so loud you’re sure you’ll probably get a noise complaint from your neighbors.

“Gorgeous. Such a good girl taking my dick like this, you love it baby? Talk to me, mama.” He pleads as his face is buried in the crook of your sweat-filled neck, the feeling of your pussy being better than he ever imagined. Than he ever dreamed of. The sounds you both were making were so lewd, so nasty. But it was bringing you much closer to splashing all over his disheveled dress shirt.

“So-so good, Ony! L-Love it s’much.” Your pretty cries make him groan loudly against you; you can feel it vibrating against your chest. Your mind is blanking, and the fire in your stomach that you felt twice today is coming back, only much stronger. Your already overstimulated clit is causing it to come much faster.

With every thrust he gives you, you give Ony a beautiful yelp. And he could only watch your face contort as you struggle to find something to hold on to, to ground you. You’re a bit dense if you think he would let you do anything other than feel every spec of what he gave you. He grasps both of your hands with only one of his hands and presses them above your head.

“Pussy’s so damn good, shit. M’gonna cum. Where you want it, mama?”

And you respond to him so eagerly, choking on your spit when he presses down on your stomach, his bulge being prominently displayed every time he thrusts in and out of you.

“Ahhh! M-me too! Inside, Ony. P-Please Ony, cum in m-me.”

He can’t say no to you, not when you beg him to fill you up with tears like that. The final straw for you was when he forced his tongue into your panting mouth again, swallowing every gasp and moan that managed to fall past your lips. You make a sudden and unwarranted shriek against his mouth, and your pussy splashes all over him.

He groans as you babble his name repeatedly, allowing salty tears to flow freely down your cheeks. Your body twitches as your pussy creams and squeezes tightly around him, and that’s enough for Ony to shiver as his cum spurts past your womb. He should have slowed down or stopped because now you both feel overstimulated.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t stop thrusting his hips rapidly against you, the feeling of you squirting on his dick quickly becoming something he wanted more of. He needs you to do that again. He needs you to spray your sweet juices so hard it reaches his face. Your chest is heaving as you try to wriggle your hands out of Ony’s grasp to slow him down. Your attempt doesn’t do much but make him tighten his grip on you,

“Give me another one, mama. Come on, just one more, baby.” And by the look on his face, even you can tell it wasn’t just going to be one more. You were in for a long night.

#onyankopon x black y/n #ony x black reader #onyankopon x reader #aot onyankopon #ony x y/n #onyankopon x black reader smut #onyankopon smut #onyankapon #onyankopon fluff #onyankopon x you #aot x black y/n #aot x reader #aot smut

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runa-falls · 6 months

Text

my turn

part 1 | part 2

pairing: marc spector x reader (a bit of steven grant x reader)

summary: marc has had enough of watching you take advantage of steven and not him...

cw: smut (18+), voyeurism, masturbation, rough sex, dirty talk, degrading words, pining omg so much pining, angst, creampie, fluff?, ft. steven

wc: 3.4k

a/n: long time coming (cumming) -- i just realized i barely have marc fics so hopefully this holds up to expectations!

masterlist

----

You know Marc. But you wouldn't necessarily say that you're friends. And even if you were, you're definitely not 'friendly' with him the way you are with Steven.

If you were to ask him though, it wasn't for the lack of trying.

Since you've met Steven, Marc has merely been a shadow behind him, stopping in to check on Steven's personal life every so often before disappearing again.

What you aren't aware of, though, is that the only time he trifles in Steven's life is when he gets to see you.

Usually, Marc is uninterested in the daily life of his other half.

Steven wakes up, catches (or misses) the bus, gets to work, grabs some food on the way home, then calls it a day. It's a bland routine that Marc set up specifically to make sure that Steven is safe and sane. So, of course, when there's a change, Marc starts to pay attention.

Suddenly, out of the blue, you're everywhere.

A smile in the background of Steven's phone, a sticky note on the fridge reminding him to get more blueberries, and the oversized sweater you leave on the armchair one day that Steven steals whenever you're away.

He has no idea how you came into the picture, how he's never noticed you, or how Steven of all people captured your attention.

All he knows is that Steven is fumbling. Hard.

Marc had no idea what the nature of your relationship was until he had a front row ticket to one of your friendly favors.

---

Steven isn't subtle about his feelings. Anytime he's exceptionally scared or excited, Marc is called forward by his subconscious mind just in case he's in danger.

Usually, Marc is forced to front when Steven is about to burn his flat down from his nth attempt at cooking, or when he nearly walks into a busy intersection because he has his nose stuck in a book. But he never expected this.

He knew you liked to baby Steven. Take care of him because he had no one else to turn to (except Gus of course), but he just assumed you were being friendly, a kind soul willing to take Steven under your wing.

Nothing could have prepared him for when he woke up to the sight of you on your knees in front of him. It's odd being in the back seat of his body while Steven is getting all of your attention. He can feel everything, from the way your soft lips brush so sweetly against his cock to the hot suction of your mouth, but there's something that's holding him back from taking what he wants.

He wants so badly to bury his hand in your hair and push you down onto him until you're making a mess of yourself, eyes welling with pretty tears and drool dripping down your chin. He needs to tell you what a good girl you're being for him, so desperate for his cock in your throat. He wants to pick you up and carry you over to the bed to show you just how beautiful you are.

He wants you to look up and know it's him.

But he can't. Because who knows when this development started.

You acted platonically just the other day, and now, you're begging for Steven to cum on your tits.

What are you to each other?

If interferes now and messes this up for Steven, you might leave their lives altogether. Damn, how have you lured him into your clutches without even talking to him?

For all he knows, it could be a one-off thing...

---

It's decidedly not a one-off thing.

Marc has barely had the chance to front since the first time you made a move on Steven. You're always coming over, whether it's a spontaneous movie night or an offer to cook Steven some dinner, you always find a way to slither your way back into his bed. Not that Steven minds.

But Marc does.

With each fumbling move that Steven makes, Marc gets pushed closer to the edge. He could do it so much better. Make it clear that you're wanted. Give you the pleasure you deserve.

He cringes inside with every wary arm that gets thrown over your shoulder during a movie (one of Steven's signature moves to get you to cuddle -- somehow it works, every time). With the messy, unpracticed kisses that Steven haphazardly presses against your sweet lips.

He physically holds himself back from taking control of the body whenever you fall asleep in Steven's arms. He wants to hold you, feel your body molded against his, even if you have no idea it's him.

It's painful watching the two of you walk circles around the truth.

"I'm always thinking about you." Just tell her that you like her, you idiot! What is there to be afraid of? She looks at you like you painted the stars and hung the moon!

At this point, he doesn't even know why he tries.

Whenever you're around, Steven has total tunnel vision. He practically follows you around like some lost puppy. He lets sweet words spill from his lips without even thinking first and you lap up any type of affection he'll give you.

It's a vicious cycle of obliviousness.

Steven is a lost cause. But he isn't.

He can't take it anymore. He can't take waking up with a lingering taste of you on his tongue, or seeing your lovesick smile directed at someone else. He can't take the way you treat him like a stranger, like someone to avoid.

He wants you. So he's going to show you.

---

It's been a long day.

Marc's been out, jumping on top of roofs and kicking ass, all while Steven's 'sweetheart' blows up his phone.

Marc narrows his eyes, shuffling through all the smiley faces and hearts that litter your messages (and the thumbs up messages from Steven).

This book made me think of you <3

A cute little picture of you holding a book next to your face stares back at him, painting his face in a soft glow as he stands in the darkness of the night. He wants to crush the device in his hand.

Call me when you get home safe :)

You know exactly where Marc is right now, and what his life consists of, but you always avoid talking about him directly. You're always just waiting for Steven to come home so he can sleepily tell you he's back in bed and give you the green light to come over and snuggle your face into his chest.

Marc likes to think that he makes measured decisions, but what he does next is completely out of character:

Come over.

---

He's a little impatient, sitting on his worn couch as he waits for you to show up. You said you'd be 20 minutes, but it's been 30 since he texted you.

Sory thought the cookies would be done earlier! I'm otw now!

Your hastily typed out text blinks up from the forgotten phone that lies next to him. He read the sheepish reply when you sent it, but didn't bother to text back because of course you baked cookies for Steven.

He's starting to regret tricking you over. All he can think about is the inevitable rejection he'll get once you realize he's not Steven.

Marc leans back against the collection of overstuffed pillows and (your) gifted squish-mallows that decorate the couch, not caring that he's taking up as much space as possible. Flashes of your time with Steven override his doubts, reminding him of the softness that only you can provide.

He doesn't even realize he's unbuttoning his pants until his hand slips himself out of his briefs. Fuck, he's already so hard just thinking about you.

He doesn't want to get himself too worked up so he attempts to take it slow, stroking and squeezing himself until he's teetering at the edge, pretending that it's your hand instead of his. He quickly gets lost in the feeling, floating in a euphoric dream of you and your touch. It isn't until he hears the door click open that he returns to reality.

You're here. The thought alone nearly makes him spill over himself.

"Steven!"

-- And he's good.

"I'm here--oof," He hears you run into a kitchen stool, "why is it so dark in here?"

He should shove himself back into his pants and greet you like a normal human being, but some sick thing inside of him wants you to see what you do to him.

You place a container of freshly baked cookies on the counter with a smile, satisfied with your work and excited to see him try one. You've been working on a new vegan snickerdoodle recipe just for him.

A sweet treat for your sweet treat. You nearly giggle at your thoughts.

You take a second to smooth down any wrinkles on your dress, desperate to look nice for him. Steven has no idea how obsessed with him you are. You want him all the time. You're constantly craving to coax out soft whines and stutters from your favorite boy.

You look around the dim flat.

Where the hell is he?

Usually you'd find him in front of his makeshift desk, sprawling through various books under a harsh lamp, but tonight his spot is empty.

A soft grunt guides you to the couch, your usual movie night spot. No way he's starting without you.

"Ah, there you are." You're slightly put out that he doesn't move to greet you, but maybe Marc's mission just took a particularly harsh toll on his body.

It's only when you're standing at the side of the couch that he meets your eyes. And you meet his...hard cock, desperately throbbing in his hand. What a sight. Your eyes nearly glaze over at the sight of his mussed hair and laid back positioning.

He just looks up at you, casually. He's been expecting you. He wants you to watch him. It makes it that much more delicious.

He doesn't shy back at your presence. If anything, he sits up to give you a better view. His hand moves methodically -- controlled, stroking himself from tip to base as his half-lidded eyes stare straight back at you.

His dark look and posture nearly make him unrecognizable. It's not just the clothes he's wearing, or the 5 o'clock shadow, but the way he furrows his eyebrows and grips himself so confidently, like he does it all the time.

You shake off the odd feeling settling in your stomach and move over to him with the practiced grace that usually makes him weak in the knees for you.

"Mm...Steven...you're quite needy right now, aren't you?"

He raises a dark eyebrow, briefly squeezing himself in his hand as he unabashedly takes in your figure, draped in a soft dress. He's not backing down like you're used to. At this point, he's supposed to be begging for you to touch him, not staring you down like you're a piece of meat.

"M'not Steven, sweetheart." His voice makes you freeze in front of him and all of the confidence you once held rushes out of your body.

"M-marc?"

A cynical smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

"You remember me?"

You capture your bottom lip into your mouth, holding yourself back from crawling on top of him and skipping the conversation. The dark and intense version of your lover is serving himself up on a silver platter, and all you can do is watch.

"Why wouldn't I?" He shrugs.

You can tell he's enjoying this, watching you squirm uncomfortably as he teases himself right in front of you. He touches himself like it's an afterthought, something to simply accompany the sight of you.

"W-where's Steven? I was supposed to meet him here..."

"I'm the one who texted you."

You freeze, not knowing what to do.

He wants you here?

He wants you?

"You...?"

"Are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna be a good girl for me like you are with Steven?"

What would Steven think?

"I-I don't know..."

"C'mon, you're always dying to suck him off."

Your face flushes at his bluntness. Are you that obvious?

A hand comes up to hold you by the waist before you're pulled closer to him. He looks up at you, eye-level with your chest, looking as predatory as ever, despite his position under you.

"What's the difference, hm?" He slides a warm hand under the hem of your dress, gently caressing the bare skin of your outer thigh. "It's the same body on top of you. The same cock stretching you out..." You shiver when you feel his fingers tease the edge of your panties, the deep red lace you picked out specially for Steven. "...even the same cum filling you up."

You look down, mesmerized by the way his hand moves under the thin fabric of your dress. You watch his shrouded arm pull at the fabric until it barely brushes at your upper thigh as his hand slides up over the softness of your stomach and the dips of your ribs, before stopping at the curve of your breast.

"You want this."

It's not a question, it's a statement. And he's right.

He watches your eyes flutter close as he cups you in his hand. Despite the heat in his eyes, he handles you so softly. Like you're a porcelain doll in his hands. It's a familiar touch, but there's a hint of something more.

"Steven..." You breathe out. It's said out of habit. This feeling inside of you has only been associated with one person. It's always been him. But now, a whole other side of yourself is opening up.

You quickly realize your mistake when his grip tightens around your waist and on your breast, demanding your attention.

"No." His voice is low, "Not him."

"M-marc."

He hums and rewards you with a teasing flick of his thumb over your nipple. You're disappointed when his touch suddenly leaves you, but before you can complain, he begins to work his pants all the way off.

"Don't worry about him, sweetheart." He pulls you close enough that you nearly fall over him, causing you to straddle his lap and sit chest-to-chest. "Tonight's about us." The skirt of your dress falls around your thighs, shielding the way his length presses against your inner thigh.

You bury your face in the crook of his neck, flustered by the feeling of his hot body against yours, at the idea that this is really happening.

You breathe in once. Is that..?

And then, once again.

He smells like him.

"You good, baby?" He rubs over the tops of your thighs comfortingly while subtly shoving your skirt up to your waist.

"Mhm..." You hum against his skin, relishing in the feeling of his embrace. You experimentally push your hips against his, grinding your needy center against his. He groans at the contact and cants his hips upwards, forcing you to feel just how hard he is.

Your cunt pulses in desperation as he continues to rut against your clothed clit. You're nearly soaking through your underwear with how wet you are. And by the way he groans against you, he can tell.

An eager hand shoves between your bodies to shove your panties to the side. "Need to feel you." He drags a finger against you, spreading your slick until it runs down the palm of his hand. "Fuck. You're so ready for me."

"P-please." It's a hushed whisper against his shoulder, but he hears it loud and clear.

"Please, what?" He pushes you back, forcing you to look at him as he lines himself up. Heat pricks at the tops of your cheeks before you cast your eyes downwards.

Is he really going to make you say it?

"M-marc." You whimper as he brushes the tip of his cock through the seam of your cunt, covering himself with your lust. He mouths at your neck, ignoring your pleas by keeping himself busy sucking bites and bruises into your skin. "Please, fuck me, Marc."

He barely gives you a second before he's pushing in with a single fluid motion. The feeling is indescribable. How can he share a body with Steven, but make this feel so different?

"So big..." You gasp out, thighs trembling around his.

"Taking me so well, baby. Just let me in."

He pushes up until you're filled to the brim, drawing out a broken moan from your lips. The stretch is exquisite in this position. You feel like you've never felt anyone as deeply as he is right now.

As soon as he's sure you're comfortable, he starts moving, grinding up against you until you're looping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. You're mewls fill the room as his cock drags perfectly against your slick walls. You arch your back and start moving over him, desperate to feel him entirely.

He watches you bounce on his lap, timing his movements so his thrusts meet yours.

"Such a greedy slut aren't you?" His harsh words are punctuated with sharp thrusts, causing you to clench around him involuntarily. The sensation almost leaves him breathless, but he continues talking through gritted teeth. "You couldn't get enough from Steven, hm?"

His pants turn into rough grunts as he speeds up. He thrusting into you like he's taking revenge, like he's proving that he's the piece that's been missing from your life.

You shake your head, "Need b-both."

"Yeah, you do. Always so desperate to be filled by this cock." He holds you in place and begins to viciously thrust up into you.

"O-oh-!" He's hitting that spot inside of you that makes you see stars. You can't help the way your mouth gapes at the toe curling sensation.

Everything around you quickly fades away and all you can see, hear, and feel is him. You can't even articulate anything when pure ecstasy blooms in your core and permeates throughout your body.

You seize in his hold as he continues to roll his hips against yours, feeling boneless from the pleasure that hums through every nerve. He groans at the flutter of your walls around him, gripping him so tight in your warmth. He can barely get out a handful of thrusts before he's spilling inside of you.

You're a mess on top of him, soaking his lap in a mixture of the two of you. Your hair sticks to your face and neck, but it doesn't matter when you can still feel him pulsing inside of you.

Your eyes flutter open as a gentle hand caresses your jaw and guides you to lean in.

You meet vulnerable eyes framed by dark lashes.

He takes a breath, like he's bracing for the worst, but he doesn't have the chance to let it go before you're pressing your lips against his.

---

You sleep like a rock. It's almost like no time has passed. Why dream when you have everything you want right in front of you?

Or behind you, that is.

You can already tell it's Steven with the way he nuzzles himself against the back of your neck. "G'mornin', darling." He's adorable with his roughened groggy voice.

"Hi, baby." He curls up at the pet name and holds you closer, already flustered before he has fully woken up. You can tell it takes him a few moments to blink the sleep away because suddenly he's stiff against you (and not in a good way).

"W-what. What happened?"

You sigh, "Marc happened."

"Did he hurt you? Oh my god," He pushes away to get a better view, "was he mauling your neck?!"

"Steven, it's fine." You feel your face warm up at the thought of the night before. "I...kinda liked it."

Steven huffs to himself as his thumb lightly brushes over a particularly obvious bruise on your neck, "He's trying to steal my girlfriend."

You nearly choke on yourself, "G-girlfriend?"

"Yes...? I mean, you are, right? Unless," Steven's eyes widen, "I-uh, didn't mean to assume--"

"No, Steven. I-I'd love to be your girlfriend."

#marc spector smut #marc spector x reader #steven grant smut #steven grant x reader #marc spector #steven grant #moon knight

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pepsichrry · 3 months

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Ride Pt. 2 || Theodore F. Nott

Summary: Your relationship with Theo escalates further

Set after the Battle of Hogwarts!

Warnings: Sexual content, Smut, Mentions of violence, Theo is in love, Theo is obsessed with his wife!!

—————————————————————————

The spring had flourished into summer almost overnight, giving way to the birth of the sunlight and the heat that came with it. The Nott family home had grown more and more familiar as these days passed and you hoped that it would continue.

Things had shifted around the house, and not just because of the change in weather. You and Theodore finally began to align like rigid puzzle pieces. What was once a secret glance became a staring contest, being in the same room became sitting together and rooms on the other side of the house became Theo sneaking into your bed each night and staying to just be with you.

You soon became comfortable with the marriage, allowing Theo to shadow you around the house from time to time or even to sleep in your bed with you, sometimes you even allowed him to distract you from your reading and eat fruit with you on the lawn. As your relationship bloomed, you thought back to the very night that broke the silence.

It had become a regular occurrence now for Theo to spread you over your bedsheets and burying his head between your thighs. But that was all. Even as the months passed by, he hadn’t asked for anything more from you, only to sleep beside you and watch you as you slept. You obliged, not minding the company. You grew used to the familiar creaking of floorboards and the gentle nudges against your skin as he slipped into what was now his side of the bed.

But something urged you further than your new routine, to find out the extent of what could be done. You wanted to know what it felt like to be completely and utterly full with him, body and soul.

So, when he finally crept into your room in the dead of night, worshipped by the dim lick of candlelight, you were already waiting for him. His deep blue eyes watched you like he never had before, sensing the shift in the air. As he got closer, you sat up, looking over the expanse of his body. His hard chest was blanketed by a soft jumper which made him all the more comfortable than he already was, and his legs were clothed in a simple pair of sweats, ready for bed. It may have not been all that enticing, but the sight of him always seemed to drive you crazy. There was something about him so siren-like, so enchanting.

“You’re awake?” He asked you with his smooth voice and cheeky smile. You nodded, waiting for him to get closer so you could finally reach out to him. “I thought you’d be asleep, I didn’t mean to wake you, Bella.”

He drew your duvet back and climbed into bed with you, lying flat on his back with his hands over his middle. You turned to him.

Bringing a gentle hand to his head, you brushed his stray curls from his forehead as he watched you with tired eyes. He happily reciprocated your soft kisses as his eyelashes fluttered against your cheekbones and he breathed in your air.

You couldn’t stop, you needed him. You needed to drink every ounce of him up, you needed to feel him all over you, you needed his soft hands to touch you and hold you to him. It was as though, suddenly, you were overcome by desperation, or better yet, adoration.

He sighed softly, fanning soft air onto you as one of his hands cupped your neck, the other finding the small of your back and pulling you closer to him still. You gladly obliged, pressing your chest against his and kissing him like he was your final breath, your only lifeline.

Theo felt giddy at the sudden attention on him. Your experimental hand dragged over his chest and slowly down over his stomach. He couldn’t help but squirm in anticipation at the idea of your hand trialling any lower. Your fingers entwined in the waistband of his sweats and you ran your fingertips lightly over the edge of the fabric.

By the sounds that he was making, you could tell that he needed you just as much you needed him.

Your pinky preached the top of his bottoms and ran over the slowly tanning skin of his abdomen as he kissed over your cheek and jaw. His pillowy lips traced over the curve of your jaw, leaving hot and damp hair to travel down your neck as his breath began to deepen upon your fingers trailing beneath his bottoms.

You pulled back, the ghost of your lips hovered over his as you watched for his reaction as your fingers began to brush over the tiny curls at the base of his cock. Slowly, they came into contact with the ache that Theo so desperately wanted to ignore, until your smooth hands were wrapped around it, he could have died on the spot.

His head flew back against the pillow, his eyes shut and his brows pulled into a deep frown, not of perplexity, but of utter pleasure. Your grip tightened ever so slightly around the thickness of his dick and he keened from where he lay. His mouth tipped open, so you opted to kiss around the apples of his cheeks, over every mole and dimple, further down over his neck and in the sickly sweet spot behind his ear, whispering for him to take off his top.

Theo couldn’t help but shiver as he peeled off his jumper, revealing him to the cool air and your piercing gaze. Every inch of his gorgeous skin was kissed by the sun, leaving freckles and birthmarks in its wake. You made sure to do the same, bending your head to press your lips against the moles on his collarbones. Theo sighed softly as you began to work your hand as best as you could whilst it was restricted by the fabric of his underwear, the sound carrying through the room. Merlin, he hadn’t even taken the rest of his clothing yet, but you felt him in the place where you needed him most, and he was big.

His slender hand soothed over your back as you sucked light purple bruises into his chest and neck while you pumped at his cock, encouraging you to do something, anything further. He didn’t know if he could take any more anticipation. He’d been waiting for you to allow him the chance to sink into you at last, but he was so desperate and pussy-whipped that anything would do. He waited patiently and happily for his climax and inevitably cumming in his pants again, until you slipped your hand back out of his underwear.

You looked up at him with desire on your face and he knew what you’d ask. “Take these off.” You told him and he obeyed.

Theo thought you could ask him anything and he’d obey, just like a slave to your command, not that he’d mind. It was just one of the many things he’d do for you in order to satisfy you.

He lay before you, nearly bare except for his underwear which did nothing to conceal the embarrassingly obvious fact of his need. His chest lifted up and down as his lungs worked double time and you eyed him admiringly. Despite the hardness beneath his boxers, you gently squeezed him through the fabric, enjoying the tortured whine he gave out.

You hushed him sweetly, rubbing your thumb over his bottom lip with a grin. His eyes lit up with desperation. You booked a finger beneath the band of his boxers, yanking them firmly, and with his help, he became entirely exposed to you. You still wore your nightgown, which he eyed hopefully, but you made no move to take it off just then.

The lower you took your body, the higher Theo’s heart rate became, until your face was just above his crotch and he swore that he felt his heart stop. Testing the waters, your hand wrapped around him once again and brought your mouth down to place a teasing kiss over the tip of his dick. He puffed out a breath that he never knew he was holding and entangled a hand in your hair.

Slowly, you grazed the underside of his cock with your tongue, trailing over the soft skin with ease, wetting it with your saliva. You continued to do so, each time your tongue met the tip, you’d broaden your tongue and do the same thing over again as he grew more and more restless each time. You placed a reassuring hand on his thigh as they began to tremble and your thumb rubbed the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, dangerously close to the curve of his balls. His head pressed harshly into the pillows behind him as he panted.

Finally, after what felt like forever, you took the very tip of his dick into your lips, surprising you at how much bigger he was than you thought. You sucked, hard, and he let out a deep moan at the sensation. It was an unusual situation to you, but you found that you could learn quickly about what he liked, so you continued to suck. Your hand pumped his length as you suckled and licked at his tip, gaining confidence as his noises grew louder.

His cock began to throb and his balls tightened, the only warning he was able to give being the grip on your hair clamping down. That was when you pulled off of him with a ‘pop’.

“But- Wh-“ He began, but you cut him off with a kiss, enjoying how quick he was to melt into your sudden affection.

You didn’t give him long to ponder as you slipped your nightgown over your head, revealing your naked body for him to see. His intense gaze lingered over your chest before it trailed down to your wet pussy. You supposed he was half expecting for you to sit on his face like you often did, but you took him by surprise when you asked him:

“Are you gonna let me fuck you?”

Of course he was, how couldn’t he? All he’d wanted since he saw you in the big white dress at the wedding was to take you to bed and make love to you. And now that you were finally going to allow him the honour? How could he say no?

“Merlin, yes!” He rasped, watching you as you swung a leg over his hips as though mounting a horse. His eyes didn’t know where to look, so they raked over you as he prepared for you to take him.

You smiled sweetly, leaning down to peck his lips with your own. You took him into your hand and dragged his tip over your soaked folds; you had no idea how much pleasure it gave you to hear him whine. Finally, you lined his tip up against where you needed him most and sunk down onto him.

Theo felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him, you were right above him, as beautiful as the sun and the sky and he’d never felt such bliss. For a second, he swore he saw heaven.

That was until you started to move, and he was rendered powerless against the pleasure you were giving him. He moaned fully now, head twisting into the pillow as though it would give him some relief to be rid of the sight of you. He couldn’t take it, he was sure to come just by looking at you. His mouth was hung open as though he was screaming in agony, except he was only tensing in pure unbridled pleasure.

His length hit against the most dangerous of angles inside of you, sending shocks up your spine as you clenched around him. The twinge of pain you’d felt at the initial stretch had quickly subsided as you began to bounce on top of him and was replaced by a blinding blood rush to your head. You felt dizzy, only it was in the best way possible.

With each brush against his skin, your clit was stimulated, forcing you to let out a sigh each time. He poured every inch of his soul into yours with every breath he took, watching you like a lifetime of his memories and future all at once, worshipping at your altar of your goddess. He’d serve you, he’d obey, he’d care for you, if you allowed him.

You let out a loud cry as his hips jolted from the bed, pressing against your cervix in a sudden pain, though it soon dissipated, soothing into sparks of pleasure. He forced his weight off of the bed in time with you, encased to the hilt of his cock in your soft pussy. And with every meeting of your hips, the warmth in your belly loosened, allowing you to steal bursts of pleasure for your body. Heat throbbed over your body and your heart pounded, you were so close.

And then it stopped. Theo pulled you off of him with a firm grip, eyes wide, pupils dilated. He looked almost feral as you frowned up at him as he took his place above you. Without wasting a second, his lips were on you, trailing over your chest and sucking your nipples into his mouth.

His hand lowered down to where you needed him the most, guiding his painfully hard dick into your tight entrance, sighing as you squeezed him to nicely. The softness of his hair on your sternum, the kindness of his hands and the noises he made, it was all taking its toll on you. You were surrounded by him, his arms encasing you, the warmth from his body still on the sheets that you rested against, his dick inside of you. He was everything in that moment.

The slapping of skin filled the air as he drove his hips harder and faster with each pull of your charm. He let out a choked sigh as he pounded into you, chasing his high more desperately than he ever had. His constant motion made you clench around him, feeling your orgasm creep up through your spine.

“Theo!” You gasped, and he responded with a pitiful whimper. He’d dreamed about the way that you’d cry his name, about this very situation. It was feeling so real, so much. He couldn’t help but be dragged closer to the edge.

He buried his hot face into your hair, moaning with each thrust of his hips, his feet pushing against the sheets to look for any way to sink deeper into you.

Your body erupted with the winding of warmth and unbearable pleasure. Your orgasm washed over you like a tide as Theo’s body met your own. You tensed and it was like nothing you’d ever felt before, your thighs shook from where they were wrapped around his hips and your hand clawed at his scalp like you could pull yourself up from the fire of hell. But nothing felt better than the flames licking at your skin.

He couldn’t help but feel bus eyes water with tears as he so desperately wanted to scream. His climax hit him like a brick straight to the face, so much that he could hardly feel his own body. He tried to cry out, but it was as though you had complete control over his body as you shared your pleasure like treasured goods.

You felt him still, pushing into you as much as he could. That was when you felt him spill into you, a kind of warmth pouring into you, you realised that he’d just come inside of you, not that you minded. His skin was moist as he slipped his weight on top of you, and every inch of you was now touching him. You could get used to it.

You wondered if his nightly visits would escalate to this in the future. You certainly hoped so.

pt.1

#harry potter #harry potter fic #theodore nott #sub! theo nott #theodore nott one shot #theo nott one shot #theo nott fic #theo nott smut #theodore nott smut #switch!theo nott #smut #theo nott x reader #theo nott #theo nott x you

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yuutx · 4 months

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ೀ ׅ ۫ . 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 ! (𝒲𝑅𝐼𝒪𝒯𝐻𝐸𝒮𝐿𝐸𝒴)

wriothesley x f!reader . 18+ content. ⟆ nsfw + unprotected sex/raw sex. praise kink. huge size kink. size difference. breeding kink. cervix fucking. love bites/hickeys. creampie. ⟆ mdom + fsub ⟆ not proofread ! ૮꒰˶ฅ́˘ฅ̀˶꒱ა

i had such bad writers block ,, so so glad its gone, i rlly wanted 2 finish this fic as it's been in my drafts for ages ! i was gonna post sumthing alhaitham related again but decided to just post this instead ! ♡ + ↻ are rlly appreciated ! !

He drank in the sight of you, his eyes raking over your body, memorizing the soft planes of your skin and the curves that molded to his hand perfectly. It was as if you were made for him, the way you fit so snugly against his broad form, the way your lips melded together, it was like you were fated to be together. He couldn't wait any longer, his hands moving down the swell of your hips to pull at your thighs, spreading them wide open, giving him a view of the treasure between your legs. A groan slipped past his lips, eyes glued to the way you dripped for him, a trail of slick connecting your folds to the wet spot on the bed. He had barely even touched you, and yet you were already soaked.

"You're so wet, baby. All for me, hm?" he cooed, rubbing his length along your cunt, smearing your juices along the girth. You could only moan, nodding in response, unable to speak with how worked up you were. The way he was looking at you was enough to drive you crazy, the lust and hunger swirling in his eyes. It was almost too much, your breath catching in your throat, your heart stuttering at the sheer amount of affection he had for you, the love he showed with his touch and his gaze. He was absolutely obsessed with you, and you loved him just as much.

He kissed along the column of your throat, leaving bruises and bites along the smooth skin, his hips pressing forward until he bottomed out. You fluttered around his cock, the stretch a delicious burn, a pleasant sting that made your stomach clench. You could feel him in your belly, his length nestled perfectly in the warmth of your gummy walls. A broken cry slipped past your lips, your arms winding around his shoulders, nails digging into his back. He gave you time to adjust, the both of you relishing in the feeling of him being so deep inside of you.

"You're doing so good, my love. Taking my cock like a good girl.." he breathed, his lips ghosting along the shell of your ear. You whined, a needy sound, and his hips snapped forward, burying himself to the hilt. You cried out, the sound quickly morphing into a moan as he began to fuck into you, the head of his cock bumping against your cervix with each thrust. You could feel every inch, the girth of his dick stretching your pussy to the limit. Your thighs tightened around his hips, urging him on, desperate for more. Each thrust made your mind spin, the feeling of him filling you up again and again sending your head into a frenzy.

You were practically drooling, eyes rolling to the back of your head as his lips found your throat, sucking at the delicate skin, surely leaving marks. They would bloom beautifully, the colors mixing and mingling with one another to create a masterpiece that only he could paint, a canvas for his affection and love. He worshipped you, his lips and teeth marking every part of your body that he could reach, leaving not an inch untouched. You could feel him in your very soul, the pleasure coursing through your veins. His voice was sweet like honey, praises and curses falling from his lips in a steady stream. How good you were, how tight, how pretty, how perfect. Each compliment was met with a sharp thrust, a well-timed drag of his cock hitting every spot within you that made your toes curl. The way you clenched around him, how your body trembled and shook with the force of his thrusts was a sight to behold.

Your face was twisted with the intensity of the sensations, eyebrows knitted together and jaw slack as he pounded into you, his thrusts growing more and more erratic with each passing moment. He could feel his orgasm fast approaching, the familiar heat in his belly, and the way you tightened around him only spurred him on. He couldn't wait to fill you, to spill his seed and watch as it dribbled out of you, leaking from your puffy, abused pussy. A low growl rumbled through his chest, his fingers digging into the soft skin of your hip. You could feel his hips stuttering, his length twitching and pulsing inside of you, the heat of his release painting your insides. The warmth spread through you, a fullness that you never wanted to lose. He ground his hips into you, ensuring every drop filled you to the brim as your own climax crashed over you, the stimulation bringing you over the edge.

Wriothesley pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, his tongue swiping along the plush skin, tasting the saltiness of your skin. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, murmuring praises against the heated skin. You could barely breathe, your chest rising and falling with the effort. Your entire body felt like jelly, the exhaustion of your climax hitting you full force. Still, the weight of his body was a comfort, his warmth a familiarity you couldn't bear to let go of. He rolled his hips once, twice, a third time before pulling out, a gush of his release following, spilling out of you. You were positively wrecked, the sight of his cum dripping down your thigh making his spent cock twitch with interest. Perhaps another round wouldn't hurt.

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azrielbrainrot · 4 months

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I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You - Part 2

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Description: Azriel would give anything to hold you one more time.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of blood, injury

Word Count: 6670

Notes: The original plan wasn't to write more of this story but I had a few ideas of where to take this and decided to turn it into a mini series, don't think it will be longer than 3-4 chapters. Also I don't know if the HoW has cells in the books but it does here and they're normal, not dungeon-y like, and the story is set after acosf but Amren never got turned into fae because I like her better like this. A lot of people liked the first part so I really hope this one doesn't disappoint. I hope you enjoy!

Part 1 ○ Part 3

Azriel was at the townhouse before he even fully realized what was happening. Didn't even give anyone an explanation, simply letting his shadows take him, barely hearing the questioning cries of his name. He didn't need to hear anything else aside from your name to know that's where he should be, his body moved before he even had time to formulate the thought.

Your sweet scent invaded his brain before he even arrived at the house. He'd be able to recognize it anywhere, he'd longed for it for so long after all. Every day when he opened his eyes, he hoped he would wake up to your scent floating around this house as it once did, as it did right now. He's not one to go into anything blindly, to run head first and only think about the consequences later, but this felt like his last chance. The loneliness that had settled deep in his soul had been replaced with hope with one word.

His shadows move to different corners of the room as soon as he's dropped off, leaving him uncharacteristically naked, unguarded. Even the shadows that would form naturally from the faint glow of the moon seemed to move off his face. They wanted him to enjoy this moment in full, this was his and only his.

In truth he barely noticed them leave, too preoccupied with the figure in front of him. He wouldn't have believed it if he wasn't witnessing it with his own eyes. How many times had he been haunted by this exact vision in his dreams? There you were standing in the sitting room, shining like a goddess under the moonlight filtering through the windows. You hadn't changed since the last time he saw you, only had gotten even more mesmerizing if anything.

Your hair was a bit shorter than you usually wore it, the tight pants a contrast to the usual short skirts you preferred. Then there was a scar running across your neck, even with the distance and darkness in the room he could tell it ran from ear to ear. It was a painful reminder of what you've been through, of the night he couldn't protect you. But it meant this was real. You were actually standing in front of him. This was something he had dreamed of many times, almost every night since you've been gone.

He calls your name and it feels amazing. Just the sound of your name leaving his lips, not in mourning or wistfulness but as a greeting, is enough to bring a face splitting grin to his face. Gods, he missed saying your name without almost feeling suffocated by the weight that formed in his chest.

You startle at the sound, seemingly not expecting company at the house. He has no time to study the strange expression on your face though, he needs to touch you first, to feel your skin against his, your warmth against his body, your heart beating behind your ribcage. He needs to make sure this is real and not some cruel dream or hallucination his mind thought up to torment him. He needs you to be really back.

As soon as your eyes meet his form, he clears the distance between you in two hurried steps, but, before he can hug you, he feels your hand reach out to him. He doesn't even have time to realize you're reaching towards his thigh, to Truth Teller. He doesn't know if it was confusion holding him back, the strangeness of the whole act or if he's simply willing to take anything as long as it comes from you, but he makes no movement to stop you from grabbing his knife, allowing you to pierce it through his stomach, never so much as looking away from your beautiful face or even flinching at the blade.

He can feel every inch of the dagger inside him, can feel the blood quickly seeping through his shirt. Still, the pain in his gut can't hold a candle to the relief and joy running through his veins. You're real. The knife went through, so you have to be real. He can clearly hear your heartbeat now as well, it sounds strong aside from how fast it's going.

Azriel reaches a hand out to you again, slower as not to startle you. He can't help the fluttering of his own heart as you finally let him make contact with the softness of your skin. You haven't moved your hands from the knife, your wide eyes staring at your now blood covered hands. He caresses your cheek lovingly and tilts your face up so he can meet your eyes at last.

He can tell something is wrong, as if it hadn't been glaringly obvious by his favorite knife currently stuck in his stomach. Your eyes seem unfocused, a bit panicked, maybe even angry. But he can't bring himself to care in this moment.

He doesn't know if this is your revenge for letting you die, for not finding you, or even if this is what you had wanted out of him from the start, maybe your whole relationship had been a lie. It doesn't matter. He'll gladly die at your hands if that's the fate you chose for him. At least he'd spend his last moments with you, a privilege he didn't think he would have the pleasure of experiencing.

His heart threatens to stop altogether when your eyes meet, it feels like time stopped around him. “You're home, my love,” he breathes out, letting out a soft disbelieving chuckle, “You're finally home.” He raises his other hand to your face, caressing both your cheeks with his scarred thumbs, he almost forgot how soft your skin felt against his rough hands. He's been clutching at faint memories for decades.

His smile falters when his thumb moves down, stroking down your jaw to the column of your throat, where a scar runs across your neck. He watches his thumb following the clean line, his scars had always been awful reminders of what was done to him, it ate at him even five centuries later, but seeing yours hurt even more. You should have never known this kind of pain.

“What?” Your voice was barely a whisper, confusion and fear holding it hostage. He looks back up into your eyes, seeing the same emotions swim in your gaze even more heightened. He didn't like that, you would never have any reason to be scared of him. He goes to tell you as much when he feels power surging into the room.

“Azriel?” Cassian's voice cuts through the moment and he has to close his eyes to keep himself calm. He wanted more time with you, wanted to talk to you before they got here, before they saw the blood but had gotten too distracted. His mind wasn't working properly, his thoughts were all over the place, he wanted nothing more than to hug you but was too aware of how strangely you were acting. He couldn't keep you and his family in check, not with every instinct inside him screaming to just pick you up and winnow you to the other side of the world.

He calls his shadows to him, a desperate attempt at hiding his injury. He knows it's in vain when he feels Rhys let go of the damper on his power, letting the suffocating night fill up the room. You look positively terrified now, he can even smell it mixing in your sweet scent. Letting go of your face, an act that takes more effort than he could imagine, he turns around slowly, trying to be mindful of keeping you covered, protected from his family.

Your hands don't stop holding onto the dagger, as he moves away from you, the force of it is enough to pull it out of his stomach and let the blood run free with no resistance. The pain was getting worse, it didn't look like you hit any vital organs but his healing wasn't fast enough to keep it at bay on its own.

Feyre is the first to move towards him when she sees the blood, but he simply holds up a hand, effectively stopping her in her tracks. Trying to keep a leveled head was proving to be a near impossible task as he saw the anger in everyone's faces, it was directed at you. He holds onto his abdomen, the pain was making itself known.

Seeing Azriel stop his mate from approaching, Rhys walks closer to the shadowsinger himself. His face was a mix of regret and fury as he spoke up. “What happened here, Azriel?” If his mind was in the right place he would have noticed the restraint his brother was showing at seeing him bleeding out in his house, restraint only present because of his own feelings towards you. Unfortunately, Azriel's instincts were winning against logic.

He hears you finally drop Truth Teller behind him, your body must have started listening to you when Rhysand got too close, recognizing him as a threat. He makes the mistake of looking back at the knife, not hearing the snarl that curls his brother's lips in time. Rhys winnows behind him in that moment and you had gotten too close to the window for him to reach you.

“Don't touch her,” he warns Rhys viciously. He doesn't want to think what he was capable of if anyone hurt you again, even if it was his own brother.

He sees you fall to the floor before he registers what happened. His heart almost leaps out of his throat, letting out an anguished cry of your name as he runs to you, pushing his brother out of the way and holding you up from the ground. Searching for a pulse frantically, he finds you were only unconscious. A breath of relief escapes him as he pushes your hair out of your face, it almost brings tears to his eyes. You will be fine. Rhys had only entered your mind to keep you asleep and stop you from escaping. You will wake up. You will not leave him again.

He hugs you closer to him, too focused on making sure you were alright and keeping his breathing leveled to hear what they were saying behind him. He felt as helpless as when he was still a child being subjected to his father's cruelty. It takes him a while before he finally calms himself down enough to hear the argument behind him.

“Let's talk to him first,” Cassian says, the emotion clear in his voice.

“He put up a shield around them,” Rhys was sounding less like a High Lord by the word, “He's not in his right mind.” A shield? He checks the air around them to find that his brother was right, there was a shield around them both, even his shadows had moved to cover them, separating them from the world.

“Neither are any of you,” Nesta's voice cuts through everyone, finally silencing them.

“We already called for Madja,” Feyre uses the silence that settled to speak, “We can get him treated and hold her somewhere until she wakes up.”

“No,” he drops you gently on the ground, letting his shadows cover you, protect you, before turning to face his family.

Feyre hesitates before continuing, seeing something on his face that makes her choose a different approach. He never mentioned being married to her but your name had been brought up before, he knew Rhys had filled her in on what happened, still she couldn't understand what he was feeling. Even he couldn't.

“The cells under the House of Wind are safe. It's just for-”

“You will not put my wife in a cell,” the words came out clipped, slipping through clenched teeth, the shadowsinger was barely holding on to a sense of restraint against his High Lady.

“She stabbed you,” Rhys yells, looking down at the wound in his brother's torso, thankfully already starting to heal, “it doesn't matter that she used to be your wife.” The growl Azriel lets out at his brother is nothing short of vicious, a feral and lethal thing rising straight from the center of his being.

“She is still my wife,” Azriel says behind a snarl, “And you will not hurt her.” Even if it was in the clean cells of the House of Wind, he could never bear to see you caged. He was ready to go to any lengths necessary to make sure of that. If helping you escape the Night Court was what it took he knew of a few ways not to get caught.

He could see Rhys' shoulders tense up, his own face morphing to match Azriel's fury. He didn't know if his mental shields were down or if his intentions were just uncharacteristically clear on his face but he was sure that his brother knew what Azriel - his spymaster - was thinking.

“She can stay in one of the rooms up in the House,” Cassian offers quickly, trying to settle the rising tension between his brothers, “She can't winnow out because of the wards and we can watch her until she wakes up.” Deep down he knows they don't want to hurt you either, that they're only worried but it's difficult to pay attention to the voice of reason within him during this whole situation. His greatest wish had just been answered. So why does everything seem to be falling apart with it?

Mor winnows in with Madja before he can give them a response which is a good thing because anything he could come up with would probably only put you and him in a more precarious situation. There were too many emotions warring inside him, the same going around almost everyone in the room if only more intense. The healer's presence seems to dissipate most of the tension automatically as Rhys even turns to look out the window and allows his mate to hold onto his hand, probably telling him soothing words in his mind.

Madja moves to Azriel with no hesitation, only stopping briefly when she senses the shield. She merely gives him a look before he drops it so she can reach him. He knows she wouldn't hurt you, knows he needs the wound in his stomach taken care of so he can focus on you, think about what to do when you wake up.

“You need to sit down so I can treat you,” she tells him while inspecting the wound.

“I will not leave her.”

“You can trust her with us, Az,” Mor tries to reassure him, but with the way the last minutes have played out he wasn't trusting you with them, or anyone else for that matter. He'd just gotten you back, no way is he letting you out of his sight for a second, he could bleed out for all he cares.

Suddenly, he sees Nesta walk to the table and grab a chair through his peripheral. She appears to be mumbling something to herself but he can't quite hear her to understand. She walks to him and drops the chair in her hands on his right, before giving him a narrow eyed look and returning to her mate's side.

He's not sure how much she knows of the situation. The three sisters probably all know by now that he used to be married but none of them has mentioned you to him, warned by whoever told them of the consequences of doing it.

He sits on the chair and lets Madja work on him. The wound wasn't too bad, even if he didn't have access to a healer it would close in a short time. You stabbed it cleanly through, just like he'd taught you. If he hadn't been the practice dummy he might praise you for it. By the Mother, he thinks he still might. He wonders if you'll grace him with a bright smile and flushed cheeks for it like you used to.

Azriel looks over to your sleeping form under the moonlight. He's calming down enough that he's starting to feel the uncertainty bubbling inside him. Truth Teller still laid on the floor beside you, covered in his blood just as your hands were.

“Is she…” What did he want to ask? Is it really her? How did she survive? There was so much blood on the ground that night. He didn't need to be a healer to know it was too much for someone to survive with no immediate help and an absurd amount of luck. “Is it really her?” He whispered the question, not bearing to look away from you as he does.

“You know that better than me,” the healer answers calmly. He can sense some emotion in her voice. You had asked her to make tonics to help him sleep and relax many times, to teach you basic healing and how to put on bandages to help him when he was too stubborn and not gravely injured enough to go see the healer. She probably missed you as well. “She's healthy.”

He feels a rush of relief at the words. You're healthy. The confirmation allows him to relax further. Finally looking away from you to see part of his family still watching the scene before them. He knows they too were thinking about the blood, the sleepless nights they spent searching for any sign of you. His eyes meet Rhys' briefly, knowing they'll need to talk about what happened.

He closes his eyes and leans his head back, letting out a soft sigh. You're back. He never thought he'd see you again but you're right here next to him. You're not a dream or a hallucination. You're healthy. The thought almost brings a smile to his lips despite the situation. Anything else can be dealt with now that you're by his side again.

“Are you sure you don't need to rest, Az?” He looks up from the familiar ring, still twisting it around his finger. It felt right putting it back on, he was almost giddy at the sight of the silver in his finger, but it also left him with immense guilt eating at him for taking it off in the first place. He studies Nesta's face for a second, giving up on trying to decipher what she was thinking in favor of looking back at you.

When everyone calmed down enough and Azriel was treated, it had been decided that you couldn't be left alone even in the room, they needed someone to keep an eye on you. It had also been quickly added that Azriel wasn't enough, his brother had seen right through him, he knew Azriel wouldn't try to stop you from killing him or trying to escape if you put your mind to it.

Cassian and Mor refused to stand watch unless it was truly necessary. He knows they wouldn't want to be put in a position where they had to stop you, knew they would not only feel guilty for hurting you but also wouldn't forgive themselves for hurting Azriel.

Even Rhysand, used to the weight and impartiality of the High Lord's title, looked hesitant in keeping him company, he had already forcefully invaded your mind to take your consciousness away, something he had vowed never to do to his friend. He could definitely stop you both from any of the worse case scenarios but at a cost he couldn't bear to pay.

That had left him with the two trained Archeron sisters and Amren. They set shifts to make sure Azriel was never left alone with you, he thinks they might not even trust him not to take you away from the room himself and help you escape. He can't really be sure himself if he wouldn't do exactly that if you asked. He'd follow you to the end of the world and beyond just to hear you call his name one more time.

“The wound is healed,” he whispers, keenly aware of your sleeping form, a habit that came to him naturally after seeing you. You always liked to sleep in and waking you up before your time was close to a death sentence.

“That's not what I meant.” Nesta walks closer to the chair beside your bed, the one he hasn't gotten up from since tucking you into the bed carefully. She placed a hand on his shoulder and studied you for a moment, something she's been doing since her shift started. “She stabbed you,” she says in an usually hesitant tone coming from her, “Are you sure it's her?”

“I would sooner forget my own name than mistake my wife for someone else,” the words came out clipped even with him trying to hold back his anger. It wasn't her fault for being suspicious, Nesta never got the chance to meet you, barely even heard about Azriel's marriage. She just wants to protect him, protect her friend.

“Why would she hurt you then?”

“Maybe it's my punishment,” the words leave him before he can think them through. It doesn't matter anyway, they all saw the state he was in at the townhouse. No point hiding now.

“Punishment?” She took a step back from the chair to be able to face him, her perplexed face coming into view. “You didn't do anything wrong.” The notion was almost laughable. Azriel had done plenty wrong in his life.

“I didn't find her,” he whispers, facing away from his friend in favor of watching you, “She's been out there for almost a century, on her own,” he clenched his fists at the thought, “and I didn't find her.”

“I know you looked for her as best as you could. I know you all did.” And what good did his best do?

“You don't understand, Nesta,” he says as he looks down at the ring once again, closing his eyes briefly at the burn he felt in his head. He didn't want to talk about this anymore, didn't want to explain his feelings to any of them.

“I do,” she starts, “If something happened-”

“If,” he cringes at how he raised his voice, immediately looking over to your sleeping form to make sure he didn't disturb you, and then added more quietly, with the same conviction in his tone, “If something happened to Cassian you would understand. But it hasn't and so you don't.”

Nesta lets out a defeated sigh, moving back to her original seat by the window, patting his shoulder comfortingly on her way. His eyes are focused on you once more and he has no intention of letting them stray until you wake up, and long after you do.

⋆｡°✩°｡⋆

You wake up slowly, your mind aware of your near consciousness before your body can follow. It feels like you've never been this deeply asleep, even the dreams that usually haunt you were quiet. Perhaps that's why it takes you so long to remember your current situation, it could also be the strangeness of it. You keep your eyes closed as your body and mind slowly come to.

You didn't expect to be lying on a bed, an unbelievably soft bed at that, after being caught stealing from the High Lord's home and then stabbing someone from his so-called Inner Circle. You're not sure when you lost consciousness but, in the split second the High Lord stood in front of you, you were more than certain you wouldn't be able to escape death again.

The sun is high in the sky, meaning you failed your mission, not only because you had been caught but also for not getting to the meeting point on time. Whether at the hands of your captors or your employers you were already as good as dead. The thought has heat burning behind your eyelids and your throat threatening to close up.

You don't even know what happened. This whole mission had seemed above your expertise from the start. You had never been sent on a mission to Prythian and the fact that you were sent to steal from a High Lord's home, the strongest in history at that, had sowed doubts inside you from the moment you heard about your mission from your handler. That and the sinking feeling in your gut as you listened to their descriptions of the city and people working for the High Lord. Every cell on your body was trying to reject this idea.

Deciding to trust your gut, you even brought up your doubts to your superiors, going as far as asking why you were being sent to retrieve some book when there are other fae more experienced in working there. There wasn't even any time to study the place or come up with escape routes. You had never been sent into any mission like this. Your worries had been quickly dismissed. They seemed completely convinced you wouldn't be caught, that you were the only member capable of this job.

Sneaking into the city had been simple enough, there seemed to be some celebration happening since so many fae were drinking and dancing around bars and even on the street. Your uneasiness only got worse as you walked through the streets. Something was wrong, every single one of your instincts was screaming at you, but you couldn't figure out why.

You walked to an alley close to the High Lord's house and surveyed the perimeter, making sure your intel was correct and the house was truly empty. After postponing the inevitable long enough, you took a deep breath and winnowed straight into the house, and, just like your handler told you, there were no wards or shields stopping you from entering. You thought this was peculiar for a High Lord but many powerful fae think themselves invincible to the point of arrogance and at the sacrifice of their own safety.

As you walked quietly through the hallway, your feet seemed to have a mind of their own, carrying you into a big room with sofas and a fireplace instead of the office you were supposed to be already searching through. You had the same feeling of deja vu as when you were walking through the illuminated streets before, something about the portraits on the walls and the peculiar chairs had your heart sputtering in your chest. It was an intricate design but you could swear you'd never seen anything like them before.

You moved closer to the window, far enough that no one could see you through it, and looked down at the city once more. Taking in the lights, the colorful houses and the fae cheerfully walking around the streets despite the late hour. There is no place like this in Montesere, not even close, so you don't understand how you could be confusing it, you really feel like you've been here before. Everything down to the names of the stores and smells wafting through the air look strangely familiar.

As you got lost in your thoughts, you had completely forgot about your mission. Letting your guard down, enough so that you didn't hear or feel anyone's presence in the same room until you heard them call out someone's name. The sound had goosebumps traveling through your entire body, your breath getting stuck in your throat. What scared you the most wasn't even the fact that you had just been caught but that voice, that name, almost brought tears to your eyes.

You stood frozen for a moment before turning around slowly and your entire body went still at what you saw. The male in front of you was the same one that haunted your dreams ever since you could remember, you would recognize that figure, those wings, those eyes anywhere.

You almost doubted you were awake at all but when he moved closer to you, standing in front of you before you could even blink, your body moved to protect yourself on instinct, to do as you had been taught at the guild. Your movements were a lot slower than usual, almost like something inside you was trying to stop you from hurting him but you had still managed to grab the long knife strapped to his thigh and stab it through his stomach in one clean movement.

The knife went in smoothly and he simply took it without trying to stop you or even letting out a sound. You've taken countless times before, killing was part of your life, of your job, but watching his blood run and coat your hands had made you feel incredibly guilty. You couldn't move, couldn't even let go of the knife.

When his hand reached to touch your face - a movement you didn't even register until his rough skin came in contact with your cheek - your wild eyes had met his and, suddenly, it felt like the world was spinning. The bright hazel was so familiar you could cry. He'd been starring in your dreams for so long but you'd never seen him quite this close. As you slowly let your mind catch up to you, you noticed he was smiling.

“You're home, my love,” he whispered softly. Your heart had felt like it was going to beat out of your chest at that point. You were missing something, a piece of information that felt like it was swimming right on the edge of your brain, but you couldn't quite reach it. His hands had both moved to cup your face by the time you found your voice.

“What?” What is going on? Who are you? Why do I feel like I know you? Why is your touch so familiar? My love? Your brain was filled with questions but you couldn't even find it in you to ask them. Couldn't look away from his eyes, the former joy seen in them giving way to something else.

“Azriel?” Both of you had tensed at the voice behind him. It seems he didn't hear anyone else arrive either, too caught up in each other and whatever mysterious tension was tying you together.

Your hands had tightened around the dagger on instinct, you could feel the power rippling through the room. You should have ran away while it was only him, he had let you stab him so maybe he would let you run away as well. But, as night incarnate filled the room, you knew every chance you had at an escape was lost.

The rest of the events were a blur, one moment you were watching more and more people winnow into the room, sending your heart further into disarray, and the next the High Lord himself stood in front of you with fury and what looked like disappointment etching his features, and then everything went dark.

As your memories from the night before fade, you become more aware of your surroundings. You could hear two separate breaths close to you, could smell two distinct scents, you suppose it was lucky enough that they had let you sleep on a bed, it's only natural they'd have someone keeping watch.

If they'd been watching you this whole time they would have to know you were awake by now, so you open your eyes slowly, blinking a few times to adjust to the brightness in the room. You study the intricate gold designs on the dark navy ceiling. Why did even the ceiling seem familiar? It feels like you are losing your mind.

Your head turns to the nightstand, where a cup of water sat over a flower shaped lace coaster. You almost gulped at the sight of it, your throat was so dry you weren't sure you could speak, but you were in a stranger's house, one you had tried to rob the night before, there had to be a catch somewhere and you didn't want to end at the cruel hands of poison.

Two pairs of eyes burned into you, and since you're not going to drink anyway, you decide that there's no delaying this confrontation any more. You turn to look at them, not surprised at finding the winged male sitting close to your bed, but he was accompanied by someone else, something else.

You sit up in bed slowly, not wanting to appear as a threat and startle them into thinking you had intentions of escaping or attacking you. You really didn't know why they hadn't just dumped you in a dark dungeon - you heard about their less than kind reputation before coming here - but you wanted to keep in their good graces if you could help it. They're probably keeping you to know more about who sent you, shame you can't tell them anything, maybe they'd even let you go if you could.

When you sit up against the headboard, your eyes meet the male's immediately, as if you were called to do it. Some of the same emotions you had seen last night were still shining in his eyes, but today there was so much more, so much so that you couldn't even begin to pick them apart even with the difference of a calm mind.

Your captors don't move so you take the moment to study the male before you. He always showed up covered in shadows in your dreams, you had barely caught glimpses of his face in the almost century of seeing him. Which was a real shame if you dared to admit it. He has an exceptionally beautiful face, the sun filtering through the window was giving his tan skin an ethereal glow, his eyes shine brightly, allowing you to make up the different tones of green and brown within them. His hair was stark black, curling slightly at the ends.

You had noticed the large wings that stood at his back the first time you'd seen him. You've never met any species of fae with wings but his were definitely peculiar. You always thought they were black but, with the brightness in the room and his shadows away, you can see they lean more to a crimson and gray-ish color. Trailing down to his torso, you notice that there doesn't seem to be any blood or sign of injury. He had already gotten healed then. For some reason, your heart calms at that and you try telling yourself it's because it might lessen the trouble you got in.

A shadow moves across him to reach up into his ear, almost like it was whispering something to him. You knew the Night Court's Spymaster was a shadowsinger, the only of its kind, but you didn't know what his shadows could do, what they could see and tell him. The hair on the back of your neck raises as his eyes watch you intently while listening to his shadow's words. They had to be talking about you. Could they read through your thoughts?

“Leave us alone, Amren.” Your eyes finally stray from the male when you hear her name, finally taking in the short creature behind him, and you almost regret it when her bright silver eyes meet yours. She was nothing short of terrifying, you think even the older assassins in the guild would feel unnerved under her gaze. You weren't even sure what she actually was but it had to be something other, something ancient and powerful. She seems displeased at the look you give her, though you doubt she's unacquainted with seeing fear on people's faces, or bothered by it.

Amren narrows her eyes slightly before looking at the male. She studies him with an intensity that could make most fae run for their lives, makes you consider it, but the male doesn't seem to care, his eyes never leaving yours. “I hope you know what you're doing, boy.” She walks out of the room with no hesitation, leaving you alone with the male that walks your dreams once again.

You stare into each other's eyes for what feels like an eternity. Neither of you seem to find the right words. You know why you're having trouble finding them. Between getting caught stealing in his house and the turmoil going on inside you, you're surprised you've been managing to keep your composure at all. But you can't understand why he'd be in the same position as you. Could he also be haunted by dreams of you the same way you were of him?

Leaning forward in his chair, he says the same name you heard last night, the one who made your heart tighten painfully in your chest. You had been too confused and scared last night to even consider it but now you can clearly see he's using it to call you. He seems to think that's your name.

“That's not my name,” you manage through your dry throat, the words coming out so rough and low that you're sure he wouldn't have heard you if it weren't for the quiet in the room. Your answer seems to hurt him, his face drops, the sunlight that was shining through his skin seems to vanish, and you see his wings tighten behind him. Your own body seems to respond to it. You want to make him feel better but you don't know how or why.

He nods almost imperceptibly, as if accepting a fact he was unwilling to, and rises up from the chair, tensing slightly when you press yourself further into the headboard. He seems to try to ignore it as he moves to the nightstand, picking up the glass and handing it to you.

You eye the glass sitting in his brutally scarred hands, momentarily wondering what could have done such a thing if he healed up from a stab wound in mere hours. He senses your hesitation but simply holds it closer to you. You look up to meet his eyes again.

“It's not poisoned,” he offers, “I promise.” You're not entirely sure why but you trust him, or maybe you were just in desperate need of water, reaching up to take the glass from him and almost drinking it in one go. He seems at least pleased enough with this, moving back to sit in his chair. As you observe his movements, you almost miss the way the glass refills on its own. You blink at it, deciding it's not worth considering, and take another slow sip.

Since he doesn't start asking you questions, apparently content enough with watching you drink, and you start to get unusually shy under his intense gaze, you start asking them yourself, seeing this as your chance to know the male of your dreams.

“What's your name?” You play with the glass as you ask, trying to appear nonchalant despite your perilous situation and the tension between you.

“Azriel,” his deep voice cuts through the silence. You repeat it, goosebumps spreading over your body at the act. Nothing is making sense anymore but his name feels right on your tongue.

You say it one more time, letting it linger in your mind. There is something inside you trying to claw its way out at the sound. You can feel it now, can feel how wrong it feels, how wrong you feel. There was a growing pressure inside your head. You let go of the glass and watch it vanish into thin air before it has the chance to make contact with the covers.

The sensation that you've forgotten something really important is back. You look up at the male one more time, seeing he has moved closer to you and noting the worry in his gaze. He wasn't supposed to be worried about you, he's a stranger and you had just stabbed him a few hours ago. So why does it feel right for him to care? Tears line your eyelids, your hands shaking slightly at the strange feelings building inside you.

“I don't know you,” you whisper, more to yourself than him, “I feel like I should.”

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