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cherienymphe · 2 months

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There Will Be Blood

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Reader x Lady Margot Fenring

Summary: Knowing that you are too afraid to ever find yourself alone with the Harkonnen heir, Lady Margot secures his heart's desire for his celebration day.

warnings: Dub-Con (use of the voice), blood, knifeplay, choking, threesome, mentions of cannibalism, non canon ages, spoiler free

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies

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“She looks almost good enough to eat,” were the words that reached your ears in that low timbre, head tilted as he gazed at you. “I don’t know whether to feed her to my darlings…”

The feeling of his finger underneath your chin was almost nonexistent as he tilted your head up. You were too anxious to look away—his reputation preceding him—and even if you wanted to, you couldn’t. You felt paralyzed, held captive by that dark blue gaze you swore was actually black as night in certain lighting.

“…or make her one of them.”

You swallowed at that, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes followed the subtle movement.

He was referring to his ‘pets’ as you knew he sometimes called them, the three strikingly beautiful Harkonnen women with an appetite for human flesh. The thought of being killed and fed to the women in question made your heart skip a beat…but the thought of being added to his harem made you shudder.

…and you couldn’t tell if the feeling was good or bad.

Hands slid over your shoulders from behind, making you shiver again, and your lashes fluttered at the feeling of soft lips grazing your throat. You faintly tried to remember how and why you ended up here, and you could only recall staring into enticing blue eyes. Her familiar face was all that stood out in your memory, features soft and lips curved into an even softer smile. With all of that being said though, you couldn’t remember your thought process behind following her perfect figure down the hall.

Lady Margot Fenring—golden-haired and willowy with that Bene Gesserit serene repose about her that you found subtly disturbing.

Usually.

In this moment, her calm disposition and quiet authority made your heart race. She was a comforting contrast to the man before you, his intense gaze and sharp features serving to make your imagination run wild with what he was capable of. He was so different from his brother, vastly so from his uncle, but he still possessed similarities with the two that made you nervous all the same.

Especially with his hand so close to your throat.

“This one isn’t for consumption.”

Her lips brushed your skin as her soft and even tone filled your ears.

“Not in the literal sense, at least…” mirth colored her voice at this remark. “I saw you watching her.”

Those words made your heart sink, and you were sure that the brief stab of fear you felt passed through your eyes.

Feyd-Rautha was psychotic. He was the kind of man that would kill someone solely because he felt like it. He had an animalistic stare that made alarm bells go off in your head, telling you to never take your eyes off of him—to always keep him in your line of sight. He was the kind of man you couldn’t let your guard down around.

He was the kind of man you didn’t want watching you.

As if he could read your worrisome thoughts, a glint passed through the man’s eyes, and he leaned in closer. Not one to conceal his feelings in any situation, his expression twisted into one of amusement, a sight that made your hair stand on end. Those soft hands slid over your shoulders and down your arms, gently caressing them.

Don’t be afraid.

A voice that didn’t sound like your own filled your mind, its influence settling into your bones and deep into the crevices of your subconscious. You felt yourself relax, felt the tension leaving you, and her soft hum had you leaning back into her chest. You didn’t want to be afraid, and you felt confident in repeating those words to yourself, confirming that there was nothing to be afraid of.

“You want her,” her fingers grazed your jaw, briefly touching his own. “…but she fears you far too much to ever find yourself alone with her.”

“I like them afraid.”

Those words made you blink, your lips parting at the sincerity in them. By the way he held your gaze, you could tell he wanted you to know he meant it, but that voice in your mind assured you that you had nothing to be afraid of. Not when he leaned in closer, and not when his hand traveled from your chin and down to circle your neck.

“You get too excited,” the blonde woman steadily told him, a hint of authority in her voice. “You would kill her.”

Her fingers on your jaw forced you to turn your head, making you look at her, and when she kissed you, you welcomed it. It was a comforting kiss, one that relaxed you further, and you couldn’t help but to close your eyes and bask in the feel of her lips touching yours. Your skin grew warm, and you touched her arm.

“I’m here to keep you in line.”

She spoke the words into your mouth, but she wasn’t talking to you.

Feyd-Rautha’s lack of protest or anger at her words gave you the impression that you were being included in something that already existed. He let her kiss you, the heat of his gaze burning a hole into the side of your face as she drew you in closer. The feeling in your chest was both light and heavy, and you felt as if you couldn’t get close enough to her.

Lady Margot had an aura about her that you’d always been ensnared by—the way she talked, the way she swayed when she walked, and especially the way those attentive eyes watched everyone and everything so closely. She smelled fresh and crisp, an airy feminine aroma filling your nose as her hand rested on the side of your throat, Feyd-Rautha’s arm long falling back at his side.

When she pulled away, only the tip of her nose lightly touched yours.

“He wants you to touch him.”

Her voice reverberated in your mind, influencing your thoughts and movements, and you found yourself turning to look at the man in question. Your advance was slow, hesitant in reaching out to place your hands on the black fabric of his shirt. He visibly shuddered at the contact, and despite the fact that you were clothed, you felt vulnerable and naked underneath his intense gaze.

“This one is fragile, Feyd-Rautha,” amusement danced around her words. “You have to play gentle if you want to keep her.”

Almost as if he wanted to defy her, his hand quickly wrapped itself around your throat, forcing you closer. Your heart stuttered at the action, and despite that brief bout of adrenaline—your body’s way of telling you that you were in danger—that influential voice in your mind told you that you were safe. Your breathing was shallow as you looked at him with wide eyes.

His own gaze traveled over your form, his perusal slow and his hand tightening. You reached up, grabbing his arm, and the noise of protest he made was a cross between a grunt and a hum. His nose touched yours, and when he spoke again, it sounded like there was gravel in his throat.

“Do you fear me?”

The thought settled in your mind that he wanted you to say yes, and so you did, barely whispering it.

That pleased him, and he presented you with a terrifying smile. His fingers were pressing into the skin of your neck, and his blue gaze studied yours, eyes flickering between your own. There was a carnal excitement there that told you he lusted for more than just your body, and when you winced at the grip he had on your throat, it only grew.

“Good,” he praised in a guttural tone.

Kissing Feyd-Rautha was nothing like kissing Lady Margot.

It wasn’t meant to be a gentle and comforting experience, but instead one that forced you to face every one of your discomforts head on. His teeth pressing into your lips, his hand cutting off your airway, the lack of warning as he pushed you back. Every action was designed to make you squirm, and despite that feeling, heat still settled in the pit of your stomach as his weight pressed down on you.

Lady Margot’s gentle touch made your leg tingle. She was pulling on it, making room for him while her other hand grabbed your arm, and you shuddered at the feel of her lips kissing a path to your wrist. The contrast in their efforts made your head spin, and Feyd-Rautha’s constricting grip on your throat only disappeared when his lips replaced his hand instead.

Pain blossomed beneath where his teeth were, and you gasped, chest arching up into his involuntarily. His hands on your frame were tense, like he wanted to twist and tear you apart, but something disallowed him from doing so. When he kissed you again, the pain in your neck lingered, flaring from spot to spot, and you didn’t doubt that bruises would be there.

When you were forced to sit up, the soft and thin fabric of your dress was pulled at by two sets of hands. A feminine touch loosened the back, her lips following behind where his once were, soothing the irritated skin there. He, on the other hand, was yanking your sleeves down, and the sound of a slight tear or two in the fabric could be heard.

The cold air hit you for half a second before a warm mouth covered a sensitive bud before it even had time to harden. The sharp feeling of his teeth pressing into the skin of your breast made you shy away, but with Lady Margot at your back, you had nowhere to go. Her lips along your neck and shoulder was a welcomed feeling, a soothing contrast against the pain the Harkonnen man was inflicting. It almost faded to the background completely when her hand found its way between your thighs.

Your lips parted, and your lashes fluttered, and you couldn’t help but to lift your hips. Her fingers were soft against your skin, the appendages sliding between your folds and stroking you. One of your hands reached down to rest on hers, riding along with her ministrations while the other reached up to grip the arm of the man intent on breaking skin.

The feel of Lady Margot’s fingers pushing into you and curving against your walls made you circle your hips. The pain and pleasure were starting to blend together so closely that you couldn’t tell what you liked and didn’t like. His teeth scraping down your torso had your breath hitching, and the Bene Gesserit woman behind you hummed when you clenched around her fingers. It sounded like a noise of approval, and when she spoke, her tone and words confirmed that suspicion.

“She likes that,” she mused, her free hand coming up to run over your chest. “She’s starting to like the pain.”

She was right.

Almost as if that triggered something in him, the blue-eyed man relinquished control completely, fingers digging into the tops of your thighs as he pulled you forward. The action caused you to collapse, your head resting in Lady Margot’s lap as he finished removing your dress, the fabric falling around you in tatters. There was only a brief bout of alarm when he brandished a small blade from his waist.

There was that voice again, settling and taking up residence in your mind, telling you not to be afraid.

Pain flared along your skin in a singular path as the tip of the blade just barely grazed your flesh. It was so sharp that a thin line of blood followed the weapon’s descent, but it was gone as quickly as it came as his tongue slipped past his lips, ingesting your essence and soothing that sting. Your eyes closed, and you welcomed her kiss as she leaned over.

Feyd-Rautha’s own lips kissed you too…just before he sank his teeth into your skin.

You were given bites and nips between the kisses—along your hip and along your thighs and eventually in between your thighs. Your hips lifted, and your back arched, and you unintentionally bit Lady Margot’s lip. She smiled into the kiss, and you knew that she could taste the same blood you felt on your own tongue.

Feyd-Rautha was a mad man between your legs, tongue and teeth playing with you, the blade in his hand pressed against your thigh. The soles of your feet pressed into the bed, wanting to both run away from the pain and run towards it. Every shallow cut made into your skin was soothed by his tongue almost immediately, and you wanted to be embarrassed by how wet their combined ministrations made you.

When you found yourself on your knees, the blade at your throat and his naked chest at your back, you could see the way Lady Margot’s gaze held his. Her face was serene and thoughtful, almost as if she were having a silent conversation with the man at your back. The sharpness of his blade drew blood, and by the way his free hand smeared it along your skin, you knew that it turned him on.

“Gentle,” she reminded him, standing.

He wasn’t so gentle when he pushed his way into you, making you sharply inhale, but the blade remained light against your throat. You tilted your head back, both to relieve the sting and because the feel of his cock sliding into you had you submitting. His own deep grunts were right at your ear, and his bloody hand trailed down your frame to roughly knead into your skin.

The sound of skin slapping against skin made your ears twitch, and when he roughly pushed you down with a hand on your back, your fingers twisted into the sheets of the luxurious bed. Your head was bowed, forehead grazing the fabric as he fucked you, power and aggression driving every thrust. Lady Margot was right, you were afraid of the Baron’s sole heir, positive that you’d never find yourself alone with him before today.

Even if you doubted it, you would have never guessed this is how he’d choose to spend his birthday celebration. While fireworks were exploding and food and drink was being passed around, Feyd-Rautha was spending his time burying his cock in you. His fingers twisted painfully into your hair, making you yelp, and the sound only made him fuck you harder.

“Are you still afraid of me?” he roughly asked you, and when you started to nod, he pushed your face down into the bed.

Understanding what he wanted, you managed to force out a small affirmation.

“Yes,” you choked out.

The low laugh that he let out was menacing, and he was aggressive in pushing you onto your back. His hand was tight when it found a home on your throat, pinning you in place as he snapped his hips into yours. The force was enough to make you wince, and his brutal treatment didn’t go unnoticed, the blonde woman coming up behind the man.

Her gaze found yours, holding it as she whispered something into his ear that yours weren’t privy to. Her beautiful hands came around to slide along his smooth chest, her lips still brushing against his ear. Her lips traveled to his throat as he pulled away from you, pulling out and allowing the other woman to guide him to sit back.

He was uncharacteristically still as he watched her take his place.

“Come.”

Her simple command was impossible to disobey, and you sat up, doing as she said. With a hand on the back of your head, she guided you towards the man, an imposing urge to touch him descending over you. With your hands sliding along his lithe frame, her fingers applied pressure, and your head lowered.

Your lips stretched around him as you tasted his cock, tongue flat and cheeks hollowed. Feminine hands were gliding over your curves, fingers eventually sinking into you again. You closed your eyes at the feel, relaxing and heart calming at the 180 from Feyd-Rautha’s earlier brutality. At the thought of him, you peeled your eyes open, looking up at him from beneath your lashes.

It amazed you, how he could be so dominant and forceful with you but so obedient and almost subdued with her. With one look into his eyes or the feel of her hands against his skin, he became a momentarily tamed wild animal. The feral glint in his eyes couldn’t be done away with, the desire to cause pain coloring his features whenever his gaze connected with yours.

As Lady Margot gently curved her fingers into you, you found yourself craving that feeling again.

Your neck and torso still faintly stung from where his blade had drawn blood, and you got the feeling that your skin was already starting to bruise from where he’d tightly held you. You recalled her earlier words, about her presence serving to keep him in line, and your mind lingered on the aches you felt from what he’d done while she was here. You wondered what would be in store for you should he ever get you completely alone.

You suspected that she was right.

He would get too excited…and probably kill you.

When his lips curved into a small smirk, you knew then that your thoughts were written on your face—along with your fear. His hand on your head made you nervous, and still you slid your mouth up and down the length of him. You could feel yourself dripping down your thighs, Lady Margot’s soft ministrations stroking that fire deep within your stomach. It made you moan around him, and if possible, you swore Feyd-Rautha’s eyes darkened at both the sound and feel.

“She would make a well-behaved pet,” he haughtily said.

The way he stared into your eyes told you that was meant more so for you than her. They both shifted, leaning in and you heard them kiss above your head.

“I knew that you would enjoy her,” the blonde woman confidently said, her even tone unable to hide her satisfaction. “Provided you don’t break her.”

When she pulled away, she pulled away from you too, and with a hand on your chin, she lifted your head. She guided you to kiss him, her own lips resting against your cheek, her soft voice telling you not to be afraid. You wanted to listen, your own mind agreeing, and so you welcomed the pain when blood bloomed along your lips.

Feyd-Rautha enjoyed the taste, roughly grabbing your hands and pinning them behind you at the small of your back. He didn’t tell you to lie down, instead making you, and you winced at the feel of your hands trapped beneath your own body. His lips were stained red when he pulled away, and your mouth parted into an ‘O’ shape when the head of his cock started to stretch you out again.

You were completely powerless—at his mercy—and you cried out at the rough curve of his hips. He looked vicious above you, focused not on chasing his high but on seeing the register of pain on your face instead. That was what brought him pleasure, watching you wince and squirm beneath him and his intense thrusts. If his hand wasn’t on your throat then it was yanking your hair or digging into the soft flesh of your breast.

He seemed to like the sight of marking you up whether it be with his teeth or his hand…or that blade.

He held it against your throat while he fucked you, sometimes sliding the flat part down your chest, blue eyes transfixed by the metal pressing against your skin. Occasionally he’d turn it, the edge grazing you, making a cut just shallow enough and then he’d lean down to taste you. Spots of his own flesh was marred by your blood, and he obviously didn’t care as he smeared it over both of you with every movement.

With your hands free, you clutched onto the sheets, eyes rolling into the back of your head. His hands were painfully tight on your waist, keeping your hips lifted for him as he thrust into you. Lady Margot—silently and appreciatively watching—slid her hands along the bed to grab your hands. Her fingers intertwined with your own, holding them down, and you welcomed the gentle kisses she placed on your wrists and then your cheek before finally your lips.

The man above you made a noise of disapproval, and after some time, she granted him what he wanted, his own rough lips replacing hers. You panted into the kiss, tasting your blood on his lips, and you felt almost delirious. It was a constant cycle of pain and pleasure that had you chasing him when he started to pull away. The laugh he gave at the sight told you his thoughts on the matter, but you didn’t care how much power you were giving him.

His gaze suddenly lifted, and his thrusts didn’t stop as he faced Lady Margot. You felt hypnotized as you watched them, eyes focused on the way Feyd-Rautha stuck out his tongue, elongating it in a way you didn’t think possible. The willowy woman had let you go, taking his own blade and dragging the edge of it down his tongue.

It was then that you realized the man inside of you enjoyed pain almost as much as he liked inflicting it.

You wondered if that was why he was so submissive towards her, why she could order him around and why she was so confident that she could keep him in line. You were unsurprised when they kissed, the brutal man kissing you after a while when they finally parted. You swore that his blood tasted completely different from your own.

A thin layer of sweat coated your skin, and you felt almost completely spent. You were sure that the celebration of his birth was still being had while he chose to celebrate between your legs. His strength and the knowledge of how easily he could snuff you out played a part in the way you clenched around his cock. You could feel that you were close—and so could he.

His hand completely obstructed your breathing, and you could only hold onto his wrist. With every thrust into your cunt, the heat in the pit of your stomach grew. Your heart was racing, and your eyes struggled to remain open, and your toes curled as he stretched you around him. A noise of appreciation reached your ears, and for a moment you wondered if he was going to snap your neck.

He could do it. The strength in his hand told you so and that he would probably barely exert himself doing so. You felt your neck strain underneath his fingers, and your nails drew blood over his skin. You knew he liked that because he kissed you again. Your shallow breaths hit his face, and just as you were on the verge of passing out, you came.

…and his hold loosened.

The rush of air into your lungs coinciding with the release of pressure inside of you made your world momentarily go dark. All you could feel was the snug fit of his cock—and the way your walls fluttered around it—and his teeth against your lip. You could faintly feel softer hands on your face, and a choked moan left your lips his hips continued to connect with yours.

His hand tightened again just as your vision started to return to you, and the smile you were met with was chilling. So turned on by watching you straddle death, the fearsome fighter came too but much more violently. He practically growled above you, the noise so animalistic and inhumane sounding. Your neck almost cracked beneath the force of his hand, and the overstimulation from the feel of his cock made you want to clench your thighs together.

You were struggling to breathe when he stilled, chest burning, and when he roughly let you go—pushing himself away from you—you gasped for air. You turned on your side, sweaty and bloody and feeling like you couldn’t breathe deep enough. A hand smoothed along the side of your face—a feminine hand—and when you looked up, the blue-eyed man was cleaning his blade with a crooked smile, terrifying teeth on display.

“I think I will keep this one.”

#feyd rautha #feyd-rautha harkonnen #feyd-rautha x reader #feyd rautha x reader #feyd-rautha #margot fenring #lady margot fenring #margot fenring x reader #dune fanfiction #dune imagine #feyd-rautha imagine #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler imagine #lea seydoux

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eggonthemoon · 20 days

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Alien Stage Round 6 Character Analysis and Lyrics Breakdown

Okay so obviously spoilers, don't click Keep Reading if you haven't watched Round 6.

God fuck it's so fucking beautiful, where do I start?

I don't even know what is going on with those rapid shots of what I assume is some form of experiment that Till was involved in. I have no clue what the goal was or if it succeeded but somehow (for no real reason other than that one image of Luka standing behind Till ominously) I feel that Luka is involved with it.

Was this an attempt by Heperu's (Luka's guardian) rival to make a human capable of going up against Luka? Till being the youngest and Luka being the oldest also means that Till's guardian could have caught on to what Heperu was planning to do with Luka and then start experimenting on humans shortly after and it would still somewhat line up with the timeline.

But I'm getting into conspiracy territory, back to suffering!!

Allow me, to the tips of your fingers

Allow me, to the ends of your feet

Dissolve me in your gaze

I don't want to let you go

Oh this hurts. Seeing him look so defeated and exhausted, you can tell that even though to the public it's not certain whether Mizi died or not it doesn't matter to him. Because she's still gone away from his world, where he is unable to reach her. He wants to dissolve and die but he also doesn't want to let her go if there is even a sliver of hope that she lives.

Please, leave me scars

Please, hurt me so that

Not a single drop of me remains

Let me drown in you

The footage that plays to these lyrics really show how defeated he is. He refuses to sing, his passion for the art completely dead and buried. And (his guardian I assume) when someone shoves the fact that Mizi is gone in his face he lashes out and punches one of the aliens near him.

Until these falling stars

Are buried in the blur of time

However his heart isn't entirely in it and is quickly apprehended.

He is beyond exhausted and doesn't even protest or put up a fight while (the same alien he punched btw) another alien runs their fingers through his hair.

On your icy lips

Read my soul

Yes, my soul

He hopes that even if Mizi is dead that her spirit watches over him, seeing his soul and by extension, Him, for all that he is. Every thought and breath until he falls asleep is for Mizi.

But didn't we already know this is how he'd be like? Time for something juicier~

Even if your cold words

Carve scars beneath my eyes

May they linger on your tongue

You can break me apart

God this is heart shattering. Even if Till doesn't care for him, even if Till throws hurtful words his way, Ivan will still lie awake at night, cherishing what sliver of attention he is given. It doesn't matter if Till hates him, because as long as he is on Till's mind Ivan is happy. He is entirely in Till's hands, capable of being build up or torn down depending on how much (or how little) he is perceived by him.

Notice my pain

And mend me right now

To quiet my fears

I'll drown in you

He wants so deeply to be seen by Till, noticed. Till who doesn't let anything hold him down and always picks himself back up became a pillar of hope and strength to Ivan. It didn't matter how or in what context he gets to be seen, so he went out of his way to provoke him just to get Till to look at him even for a moment.

This was mentioned a while back on VIVINOS Patreon but the entire incident where Mizi and Till got attacked by that hound monster was orchestrated by him. I feel like there is two possible reasons for this depending on when in the timeline this takes place.

Either he wanted to test Till's resolve in hopes of being proven wrong about his courage (after all your hopes can't be dashed on the rocks, if you never had hopes to begin with) only for his obsession to end up growing even stronger than before.

Or he tried to let Till get roughed up enough that he'd be transferred (solitary confinement? emergency room?) somewhere else away from the others at Anakt, so they could escape together.

But we all know how that turned out.

Either way what Ivan wants isn't freedom, he's long since given up on that. There's no point in his freedom if the person that inspired him to yearn for it isn't by his side. He needs Till there, his very presence to reassure him that no matter what Till won't falter. But he failed to take account of the one thing that weakens Till's resolve.

Mizi.

Mizi is to Till what Till is to Ivan. And so without Mizi in his world Till crumbles. Since Till will only go where Mizi is and Mizi already gave away her heart to someone else, it's impossible for Ivan to be free while keeping Till in his world.

And so he follows him, resigning himself to a life without freedom.

Sick of these nights to come

To be engulfed in silence

But the distance between them is killing him, and each and every day they come closer to their inevitable doom.

It doesn't matter if they believe the lie the aliens told them, that if they die singing they will be blessed. Because what is the point in that? How can going somewhere far away from the people they love be a blessing?

In your gaze where I am seen

Consume me

Yes, me

His desires mirror Till's. He wants his soul to be seen by him, recognized for his undying love for him. He wants Till to see that he can give him all that Till yearns for in Mizi and more.

To this everlasting melody

Face to face we dance

And yet Till still refuses to look Ivan in the eyes.

Things get a little unclear but since they aren't shown singing here and there's no flashback to accompany the lyrics, we can assume that at this moment Till most likely gave up on singing.

With our story

Lost in forever's embrace

I'm not sure if Ivan intended this from the start or if it's a decision he made then and there but one thing is certain. If Till stops singing then that would mean he forfeits, he'll lose. Till has never once given up. Even when he went back for Mizi that night, he never intended to leave her in the first place. But now without her he crumbles.

And Ivan can't let that happen, not like this.

Moral grey area aside, this scene is so deeply moving to me

And I don't say that in a romantic context, absolutely not. This is something much deeper than just love. This is the culmination of everything they've been through, all those moments lead up to this.

Because this isn't a kiss.

This is Ivan throwing his life away for Till.

Till was going to loose, the only thing that could overturn that is if his opponent attacks him. The kiss was to distract Till and keep him from catching up to what Ivan was planning.

Just look at the contrast between their first and second kiss. As soon as the score board shows Till is in the lead, he gives him a gentle peck on the lips. The contrast is stark and full of meaning. This was the genuine kiss, hidden behind a smokescreen of aggressive bravado created from the previous one.

And it worked. Till was completely convinced that Ivan's intentions was to kill him, and he was fully intent on letting him.

I know a lot of people doubted his intentions. Because he didn't let go of Till's neck the minute he saw their scores, a lot of people assume that this was Ivan trying to drag Till down with him.

But the minute he coughed up blood what does he do?

He smiles.

and let's Till go.

He's only human. He might know logically that Till has won the match. But emotionally he refuses to let go until he is certain.

Until he knows for a fact that he is the one bleeding and dying he'll keep up his charade.

And then.

And only then.

Till truly sees Ivan.

As he dissolves in his gaze.

#THEY RUINED MY LIFE /POS #I FUCKING HATE THEM /AFFECTIONATE #ivantill #alnst till #alnst ivan #alnst mizi #alnst #alien stage #에이스테 #ramble rumble #I don't know what happened #I had a thought and a neuron activated #I think I might have ascended #alnst spoilers #alnst round 6

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helluvapoison · 2 months

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heyy i was wondering if you could do like Lucifer x reader getting married if ,you want to ofc🫶

btw i love your work so muchh, thank you!!🫶(also english is not my first language so i hope i didn't write anything wrong)

Absolutely I Do

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

a little insight to your wedding with the king

[part ii (18+ only)]

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

• What would be a tamer version of a bridezilla? Not quite lashing out at everyone and their mother over the tiniest details but blowing a fuse when white roses arrive and he specifically asked for white gardenias?

• That would be Lucifer

• Asmodeus is his best man and the other Sins are his groomsmen, they’ll handle the flower debacle and any other matter that needs saving

• Good natured Charlie was given, arguably, the easiest task of holding onto the rings! She’s more than capable of planning the entire event on her own (and she asked to… twice) but Lucifer wanted her to enjoy this wedding as he wouldn’t be having another

• It’s part of why he wants this to go perfectly!

• He never thought he’d find another love after Lilith. He didn’t even realize that while you were delicately filling in the crater she’d left, he was falling more and more in love with you

• The other part, his pride and perfectionism aside, is that while it may be his second wedding, it’s your first. In his eyes you deserve only the best and he’ll be damned all over again if he doesn’t deliver

• You told your fiancé (FUCK he loved that word coming out of your mouth, almost as much as he was going to like husband!) to at least try to not go overboard. To which you received a “Me? Overboard? Darling, I would never! Simple and elegant, that’s what the headlines will say!”

• The many, many, many vision boards said otherwise. However you already knew damn well “simple and elegant” translated to grandeur and extravagant– and that’s exactly what it was. To Lucifer’s credit, it wasn’t gaudy or blinding. It really was a gorgeous spectacle

• Per his request it’s an all white event, a stark contrast to the overall location. The guest list is massive. After all, Lucifer’s still a king and certain people would be offended if they missed an occasion like this. Everyone goes all out. Bodies pour into chairs, everyone dripping head to toe in white garments and glamorous jewels

• Lucifer preened and primped, checking the mirror a couple hundred times and asking whoever was in the room if he looked ok. Anything less than “outstanding” had him groaning as he turned back to the mirror

• The wedding suddenly seems like a terrible idea. Not because he has cold feet (he’s rather sweaty, actually) but because the moment he sees you he just wants to steal you away

• You are positively and wholly breathtaking. The stars are jealous over how you outshine them! He can’t do anything but stare in amazement as you walk down the aisle

• Does he, Lucifer Morningstar, vow to protect, love, cherish and serve you for all eternity? Undoubtedly. He adds a few his own too like spoil you rotten, compliment you hourly, never ever never let you feel like you’re alone— all things he’s already done but wanted to make it “official”

• “It’s been an honor to be your confidant and friend… but I’m dying to do that and more as your husband.”

• Then do you take him to have and to hold, for better or worse, richer or poorer?

• “I do.” You answer proudly, squeezing his hands ever so slightly

• Forgetting present company, forgetting he’s a king and supposed to act dignified, Lucifer doesn’t wait to get permission to kiss you. He jumps slightly, knowing you’ll catch him instantly. Hugging your neck he crashes his lips onto yours

• You giggle against him, returning the kiss briefly before setting him down. (Hell knows he’d get carried away and forget much more if you didn’t)

• “I do believe you’re my husband now, Luci.”

• The entire wedding may as well have been a surprise party the way his eyes widened, as if it only just set in what the ordeal was for

• “Oh my golly, I’m your husband. I’m your husband! Hey everybody, I'm their husband!”

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ don’t apologize, you did great friend! thank you so mochi and i hope you enjoy

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar imagine #hazbin hotel headcanon #lucifer morningstar headcanon #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader

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overseer-picard · 9 days

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I have to talk about "I, Borg" for a moment. I get so exasperated by people saying Picard was stupid or weak for not using Hugh to cause genocide. I get it, Hollywood neural rot tells us we should always kill the bad guys but... come on, watch the episode with your brain wrinkles open.

Picard was chomping at the bit to use Hugh to infect the Borg, his staff were the ones telling him to slow down and think about things but he turned a deliberate blind eye to them for most of the episode. It was deeply out of character for him, but his actions were underpinned with a simmering rage that made it all make sense (especially considering he had been assimilated just two years prior).

He lashes out at Guinan, "It's not a person, damn it, it's a Borg!", he tells Geordi to "unattach himself" from the "lab animal", and he even makes Beverly do a double take when she says "You're making it sound like a virus." and he says, his eyes colder than we've ever seen, "And if all goes well, a terminal one."

(Cold Eye Picard ^ very scary, do not approach. He even gives a flicker of a sadistic smile here, which might be the only time in the whole series we see that.)

But my main point is that Picard wanted to go through with the plan more than anyone else on the ship. So much so that the lust for revenge was splitting him open at the seams and making him abandon his core morals. Even Guinan, whose entire world was destroyed by the Borg, tells him he needs to calm down and reconsider.

And that moment towards the end, the climax of the episode, when Picard is tapping into Hugh's recognition of Locutus, trying to do a hail mary to prove that this is still nothing but a mindless drone, and Hugh says "No, I am Hugh". BAM. Picard's entire demeanor shifts as he realizes there's no way he can murder this innocent individual.

And this moment-

-as Picard is saying goodbye to Hugh, you see his smile fall and doubt pull at him. Perhaps he's questioning if he did the right thing, or maybe wondering just how furious Command will be with him, but either way, it's a poignant moment that completes his arc because he was true to his moral center, and that is true to his character.

In my opinion, if Picard had chosen to push through with the plan, to kill Hugh and the possible (there was a chance it wouldn't work) millions of other Borg drones who were just as innocent and capable of rescue and rehabilitation as Hugh (and himself), it would've been a failing of writing and too far removed from Picard's character to be believable.

It's an incredible episode, and Patrick Stewart's performance is astoundingly nuanced, so it drives me a little crazy when people completely miss the entire point. If I wanted an action based thriller about the Good Guys coming up with cool ways of killing evil space zombies, I wouldn't be watching Star Trek.

^ the face of character growth

#star trek the next generation #jean luc picard #i borg #episode analysis

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barbieaemond · 5 months

Text

Iron on Silk

Pairings: Prince Regent Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Warnings: mild angst at the beginning, definitely angst at the end, smut, oral sex (f and m receiving), choking, fingering, p in v, war dirtytalk.

Word count: 3.2k

Author's note: This was my little gift to you for the Aemondsversary. And it's still a gift now, for thanking you for 500 followers in such a short time since I remade my blog. There's a filthy extra in this filthy piece. Enjoy! :)

MASTERLIST

He wears it proudly. He wears it cruelly. It falls on his head like a halo, holy and dark. Black iron on white silk, and little stars of blood.

The crown is heavy with conquest, with tyranny, with the fire that forged it and the blood shed in its name.

"It looks better on me than it ever did on him."

It is true enough, but it does not make it any less heavy. He hides it well, but you can see it, as if looking down at a thick layer of ice, still and cold, and seeing the raging abyss underneath.

You can hear it in his deep sigh, even more in his short ones, when blinding rage is gaping its jaws to swallow reason.

You can feel it in the way he fucks you every night. Relentless. Ruthless. Merciless.

Hopeless.

Desperate to shake it off, to shake off the burden—the crown's burden, the death's burden. The one he lashed out on his family, the one who took Jaehaerys’ life, and Helaena’s. For Helaena is good as dead.

You tend to her every morning, at least you try. You try to get her to take a bath, to hold Maelor. Maelor, who cries and looks for his mother. Maelor who laughs and looks for his mother. You look at her and see her ghost while she still breathes. You look at the Queen Mother and see a shadow of flesh.

You look at him sitting in the Small Council, wearing iron on silk, and see a crown of thorns piercing through the skull.

“Does it hurt, my love?” you ask in the empty room while he strokes the skin around the sapphire. He mumbles something in return, and you walk to his seat at the end of the table, leaning your low back against it.

“No.” you say quietly “I meant the crown.”

He looks up and just stares at you, jaw clenched to trap words, the storm in his eye bubbling up from the depths.

“I have a war to plot.” He says, and that’s all he’s been saying for days.

“You have done nothing else. You look at your Lords and wait for a stab at your back. You look at our bed and see a battlefield. You lay with me holding a knife to my throat.”

He rests his lean shoulders against the seat and the wrinkles on his forehead unfold. "Tis' the first time I hear you complain about my marital duties." he says tilting his head with a cruel grin "It didn't seem much of a burden when you begged for more right after I spilled in your mouth last night."

"Must it always come back to duty? If I wanted to spread my legs for a cock to warm me every night, I would've thrived in any brothel of Flee Bottom."

He laughs at this, but it comes out wrong, like a rusted gear, oiled too little. "Such lewd words for a Queen."

“Is that what I am?” You ask with a half-teasing smile “I thought you chose not to style yourself as King.”

“Hmm.” he muses, taking hold of your waist with his long fingers, to pull you to him. “I am wearing the Crown, am I not?”

You lean over him, placing your hands on his shoulders, looking at the sharp black edges cutting the soft white silk, wondering how it could have fallen on his head by mistake when it seems that the Gods have always meant to place it there.

Your back collides against the table and you slowly hop on it, your gaze fixed on him, whose eye widens slightly, mesmerized and thrilled. A rustling of paper fills the room, and he looks at the table and then back at you, lips curling up.

“Those are my war plans.”

“It seems my husband is not capable of talking about anything else these days. Fine, then.” You incline your head, mirroring his smile “Tell me about your war.”

He remains still and quiet for so long, looking at you with that glint you know so well, so much that your chest goes up and down fast, and his hands are not anywhere near you.

But then he stands up, forcing you to raise your chin, and leans over you, slowly, silky hair tickling your chest. “It seems my wife is in need of some warfare lessons.” he whispers, ghosting his lips against yours, and you eagerly part them to kiss him.

“Ah.” he counters, pulling his head back with a sly grin “First, we need to ensure our armies are ready.” his deft and long fingers climb on your corset and he starts to pull harshly at the laces, making you jump twice.

“What if someone enters?” you ask, as shivers run down your back like ice drops.

“Indeed, what if someone enters?” he turns your question around and stops his unlacing, challenge and hunger dance on his lips.

“Then you tell them you are the King and the King can fuck his Queen wherever he wishes to.”

His eye blazes under the candles, and after a moment of trepid silence, he brings both his hands to your corset, and with a swift and strong move he rips it apart.

You fall with your back on the table, your breasts are out, nipples hardening for the cold air and the arousal slowly coiling in your belly. He grabs your ankles and pulls you close to him, making you slide on the table to tie your legs around his waist.

You pull yourself up, holding onto your elbows and frantically reach for his belt but he stops your wrists. “Alreay eager to surrender?” he hums with amusement, eye roaming on your exposed body and the hold on your wrists grows impossibly tight, hurting. “If you were in charge, we would lose the war within a day.”

“Or win it.” you suggest, tightening your legs around him until you feel his hardening crotch, winning a quiet whimper from his throat. “Women could end any kind of war, my King. We own the most powerful weapon.”

“Say it again.” he orders, hands hiking up your skirt until it’s nothing more than a heap of fabric around your waist.

“My King.” You say, shuddering as his long fingers hover on your thighs, almost tickling—a gentle touch born out of so much violence.

“Again.”

“My—King.” The words come out wrong, broken by a soft gasp as his fingers unexpectedly breach your walls. Your eyes flutter shut as you feel him go deep inside, deeper than ever, and your mouth falls open.

“You are not so bold about your weapon now, are you?” he asks with a tone ridden with cruel enjoyment.

“Tis’ unfair.” You mumble, resting your head on the table.

“There is no fairness in war, my love.” he says, looking down at your damp flesh and how it clenches endlessly on his hand, and he watches and watches, wetting his lips as if pondering which move to strike on a war map. “It’s best not to be caught…unprepared when you expect an assault from your enemy. Do you know why?”

You whine quietly, biting your lip as he pumps his fingers deeper and deeper and his thumb draws circles on your apex. He does not accept that as an answer, so he slides out, and his large hand grabs your core, fully and almost painfully. “I said, do you know why?”

His tone is demanding, words laced with thunder as he does when commanding the Lords. “Why?”

“Because” he says lessening the grip on you “you give open field for what comes next.”

Air feels scorching in your throat as you look at him, black and silver and blue.

“What comes next?”

He grins like the most ruthless general at the front, the one who takes no prisoners and wipes the bloodied sword on his green cloak. “Siege.”

In a blink, your legs go up on his shoulders, a frame of flesh around iron, silk and sapphire.

He takes his seat again as if sitting down to feast, and you lift your head, breathing hard with anticipation, meeting his eye as his face hovers over your center, feeling his scorching breath lighting a fuse that quickly burns away every rational thought left in your head, if there ever was one since he touched you.

“Aemond, please…” you beg shamelessly, hands flying down to touch him, to bring his head closer and closer.

But he grabs your wrists and holds them still on your stomach. “Call me properly.”

“Please…” you say with your voice cracking, like the nerves in your neck because you can't stop looking at him “Please, my King.”

“Do you know how to conduct a siege?” he is speaking so close to your apex that you can feel his voice reverberating through your skin long before hearing it. “You strike first, hard. And then you wait, watching your enemy starve to death, until they surrender.”

He puts his words into practice by running his tongue flat on your folds and then he is sucking, hard, so hard you fear he is about to devour you.

He moans contentedly, closing his eye for a moment as his jaw moves nimbly and his tongue pierces inside. Your head falls back and you cry so loud you are sure the guards outside are aware of what's happening in the Small Council room.

Just when your hips are beginning to rock on their own against his face, feeling the bone of his long nose, he licks a long stripe and then pulls back.

You raise your head with a sound of protest, but his hands are still pinning your wrists like iron chains, and he is looking at you with a victorious smile, face all wet. And he licks his lips, thoroughly. "If only my enemies tasted half as sweet as your cunt."

With cruel delight, he watches you writhe beneath his hands, breathing hard and unconsciously rocking your hips on nothing to soothe the painful ache between your legs.

“Perhaps I should say mine by now.” he ponders, roaming his gaze on your whole body “This siege seems to be surprisingly short. Do you wish to surrender, my Queen?”

“Yes. Yes, I surrender.” And you press your ankles on his shoulders, hands desperate to free from his hold and seize him, to force him to seize you.

He finally releases your hands and stands up, your legs sliding down and your hands going to his breeches. You pull two laces, but then your right hand locks on his wrist as you see him about to take the crown off his head.

"No, keep it."

His eye turns pitch black, making a deadly contrast with the sparkling blue of the sapphire, and your hands go back to the laces, pulling quickly until you have just enough room to slip your hand in and grab his hard cock.

His lips twitch as pleasure makes his head numb, makes his limbs heavy and his blood boiling and falling down, right where you can feel it, harder than the iron resting on silk. You feel his breath changing with every stroke of your palm, his waist moving almost imperceptibly as he chases your skin, like falling into the warm embrace of a siren’s chant.

The sight only makes you smile, though it stokes your ache for him so much that you mirror his heavy and slow breaths. “Who’s besieging who now?” you point out, almost regretting it when he grabs your neck, squeezing lightly with a dark promise curling his smirk.

“This is your lesson, not mine.” He declares, despite the labored breathing.

You swallow, quietly gasping for air as you look at him.

“Who told you to stop?” he asks, with the same cold purpose he questions the up-and-coming Lords who seek council in that very room, tightening the grip on your throat, almost relishing in the choked sound that escapes your lips.

“Did you forget, sweet girl? You surrendered.” His eye lingers on every detail on your face, and his free hand flies through your hair, tucking a lock behind your ear. The gesture is gentle, almost delicate, the opposite of the hold of steel around your throat. Hostility and devotion doomed to a ceaseless chase to purge one another.

“Siege is over.” He says, sliding his hand up your chin “Now it’s time to claim.” two of his long fingers breach into your mouth, grazing your tongue, and you sense the faint taste of yourself. “There will be some fool who will rebel against the new order. But the rest? They will kneel before their new King.” he leaves your mouth only to grab you by your cheeks, angling your head so he’s whispering to your ear “And who will you be, my dear wife? A fool on a spike or a dutiful subject?”

You recognize that tone, playful but dangerous—the one that will make you wonder if the next grip will be hostile devotion or the opposite. “What if I’m both?” you whisper, moving your head so you can look at him once more. “What if I want to serve you and die by your hand?”

“Then kneel.” He orders, but in your ears is the sweetest death sentence.

His eye glints as soon as your knees hit the ground; it thrills him, it always does, to have you like this and he’s not shy about showing it, for how his chest heaves more and more rapidly as you part your lips to pledge to him.

“No.” he croaks, almost sneeringly given the trepidation pulling his bones so taut, so close to snap. “Look at me and speak the words.”

“I pledge my allegiance to you, your Grace. I vow to honor and serve you until the last of my days." you swear and there's no acting in it. "Long may he reign.”

Your mouth closes around him and he gasps deeply, jaw falling slack as he looks down, at your lips so perfectly laced around the tip, at your eyes looking up with devotion, no hostility. Never. “Gods, you are so beautiful like this.” He pants, pulling your hair away from your forehead and immediately thrusting his hips so you can take all of it, up to the base.

It's a matter of moments before his hand tangles in your hair, pulling and pushing slightly to give you a steady pace that leaves you breathless and gasping for air. It doesn’t matter though, not when his eye almost rolls back for the pleasure you’re giving him, not when he’s so lost for words that he has not even breath for his snarky remarks. He just moans and groans like a primitive beast, thrusting his cock as deep as he can, growling when you hollow your cheeks around his wet and hard flesh.

Suddenly he tugs at your hair harshly, pulling away as you recline your head to look at him, mouth open to catch your breath. “Why?” you whisper, panting “Did I not serve you well, my King?”

He helps you get up only to make you sit on the Small Council table once again. “You served me exceptionally well, my love. But you will serve me even better by taking my seed into your sweet cunt.”

He hikes up your skirts and revels in the way you spread your legs for him. “Do you wish for a King to fuck you?”

“Not a king, no. My King.”

“I shall do more than that.” He says, panting slowly, eye all foggy but urgent with pleasure, and he takes your face, cradling it between his hands. “I shall put a child inside of you, to strengthen the Crown and see you swell with my offspring.”

“Here?” You tease “On your war maps?”

“Fuck the war.” His delicate hold turns to iron, and then he’s kissing you, as he always does, harshly, smothering, slumping his tongue into your throat.

His hand moves yours away, and your jaw falls slack as he thrusts into you, sliding easily all the way in. You fasten an arm around his shoulders, your parted lips brushing against his, struggling to breathe. He ties your legs around his slender waist and climbs halfway up the table, leaning over you.

Papers rustle and fall to the floor, a sound soon covered by your flesh clashing hard against each other as he ruts into you, and you are utterly besieged. The air fills with moans and growls, and you are not sure whether it is him or you as you climb together toward the final peak.

"Look at me." He laces his fingers around your neck, squeezing lightly. "Look at your King."

You do as he asks, straining to keep your eyes open, frowning with painful pleasure. "Yes, like this, my good girl." He praises, panting loudly, "My Queen."

He thrusts even harder, sweat dampening your skin and his forehead, and he is the most beautiful and dreadful sight you have ever seen. Black iron and white silk, blue sapphire and fire, fire and fire.

"I want you to come with me." He whispers, grabbing your chin with his fingertips, his hand still clutching your throat. "Can you do that for me?"

"Y-yes." You manage to choke out, "Anything."

"My beautiful wife. So dutiful." he says laying wet kisses on your chest "So perfect for me."

His words, uttered so gently compared to the violence of his sieging thrusts, only pushes you up and up, staggering to not fall. "Aemond, I can't—" you whine, digging your nail into his shoulders "I can't last for long."

Your legs are trembling helplessly around his waist, but he fastens the grip on your throat, hard, making you gasp for air. “Hold it.” he orders, groaning because he’s close too, “Just a little more, my darling. I know you can take it.”

It is true, but it does not make the coiling pressure between your legs any less painful, beautiful and painful. He turns sloppy, panting and cursing each time more loudly while you whine, pleading under your breath for him to let you fall into a depth of bliss.

And finally, when your muscles were starting to ache for how much you were holding it back, you hear his breath change, slow and labored, and you know the end is near.

At last, he comes with a choked groan, making sure that not a drop of his seed goes to waste. And you are falling with him, spasming all around his waist, shoulders and cock.

His head falls on your chest, covered by silk and iron, and perhaps the crown has never been less of a burden as it is in this moment, while he rests against your collarbones, as a place where he can lie, or even die.

When sunbeams filter through the bars of your cell, you look through them, though no heat is able to warm you anymore. Except for the life growing inside you.

From a distance, you hear a clamor of men in the courtyard, guards getting ready to carry out the sentence.

If you stand up on your toes, you can even catch a glimpse of the pike on which your head will be mounted in a few days, or perhaps a few moments.

It doesn't really matter.

You look at the puddle of mud on the ground and think of the lake.

You wonder if, at least under the Gods' Eye, the raging abyss beneath the ice has gone quiet, or if the waters have simply swallowed him.

#iron on silk #liv(in la vida loca)#aemond targaryen x wife reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond x wife reader #aemond x you #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen fic #aemond fic #aemond targaryen smut #aemond smut #aemond targaryen fanfic

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fandomxpreferences · 5 months

Text

Man Eater (18+)

Masterlist

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x dark femme female reader (like siren energy)

TW: toxic, manipulation, smut, I think this counts as dub con, oral ( f receiving), I think that’s all but as always read at your own risk

Summary: Rafe can’t help but fall into your trap every single time.

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: this is not my best work but I’m dipping my toes back in so please be nice to me

As much as he hates it, there’s something about you Rafe just can’t let go of. You're mysterious and seductive without trying; the most elusive woman he's ever met. You hold all the power, and for some reason, he keeps coming back for more.

Nobody knows what the two of you do behind closed doors. You show up when you feel like it, and every single time Rafe is waiting on his knees for you. Every time you leave he swears he's done, but then you call or show up and you're all he can focus on. You have a hold on him in a way that no one ever has before.

You don't think twice as you walk into the gala at tannyhill wearing a red gown; you smile and greet familiar faces just like usual. You're somehow kind and heartless at the same time, and Rafe has never been able to make sense of it.

He swears his breathing stops altogether when you make your entrance, but he remains stoic as he sips on whiskey. There’s something so powerful in the way you carry yourself; like you either own the place or don’t care who does. It draws him in and he can’t help but be mesmerized by just your presence.

He watches people move out of your way and men nearly break their necks as you float by ethereal and beautiful as ever. You’d think you’re a royal that should have a security team the way you command the room, and Rafe can’t look away.

You know he’s there and you can feel him watching your every move as you slink toward the bar and stop just a few feet away from him. While you may be sweet as sugar to most, Rafe gets to see the opposing side of you.

It's as if you're a siren; so beautiful and innocent one moment and sinister the next. He shifts closer so your shoulders are almost touching, and flags the bartender down with the subtle wag of his finger.

“She’s with me. Pour from our personal collection.” He instructs, and the man nods.

You glance over at him with a smirk and place your clutch on the counter before propping up on your elbows. You raise your eyebrows expectantly, and as if he has been perfectly trained, he orders your usual drink without further instruction.

“Always so eager to please.”

Your tongue darts out to wet your crimson-stained lips, and Rafe watches you with the same predatory gaze he always does.

“Only you.”

The way you stare up at him through thick lashes and winged eyeliner nearly makes him collapse, and he tries to calm the wild beating of his heart. You’re the type of beautiful that’s intimidating; so stunning that even the unshakable Rafe Cameron quakes in your presence.

You take a sip from your glass with a wink before strutting off, and he grins to himself. He knows how lucky he is to have you in any sense, and he also knows that you’re not in a place to be tied down.

Still, it doesn’t stop him from longing for more. He’s certain that you were made for him; and that there aren’t any other men in outer banks truly capable of keeping up with you the way he can.

As strong as he is, even Rafe falls victim to your spell. Anyone else would simply be steamrolled, and he thinks on some level you know that. He knows you two would rule Figure Eight together and be unstoppable, but he’ll accept what you give.

He’s not usually worried about you getting around because even if you aren’t exclusive by any means, you’re extremely selective. You don’t seek attention; that's why you get so much of it. Normally, you don't pay it any mind.

Tonight, however, Rafe clenches his jaw until it aches as you nurse drinks made from his liquor while rubbing another man's arm. He knows he has no claim to you; you’ve made that very clear. He isn’t even sure if you have his name saved in your phone.

Despite having that knowledge, he finds himself slowly maneuvering through the crowd in your direction. You lock eyes with him over the shoulder of the man sitting in front of you, and you quirk your brow just enough for Rafe to notice.

It startles Rafe sometimes; how your eyes sparkle with the same thrill and mischief as his. You’re easily just as crazy as he is and he’s absolutely addicted to the rush of being with you.

“My dad wants to say hello.” Rafe lies, not giving you a chance to speak. He can see the way you’re weighing your options in your mind. He knows there’s a possibility that you tell him to fuck off; despite your arrangement, going home together is not a given.

“Excuse me.” You politely smile, giving one last squeeze before releasing the man's bicep and stepping around him.

Rafe’s arm wraps around your waist instantly, with his hand splayed across your side and onto your stomach as he holds you close to him. You stumble a bit in your heels when he jerks you into him, but don’t show any emotion.

“Bit bold tonight, aren’t we?” You say just loud enough for him to hear, and his fingertips dig further into your flesh.

“Not bolder than wearing a dress with your entire back out and drinking my liquor with another man.” He bites, and you let him lead, not wanting to cause any more of a scene. He doesn’t stop until you’re standing in his room and shuts the door.

He stays facing away from you for a moment, and you tap your shoe impatiently.

“Did you bring me up here just t-“ You’re cut off when Rafe tilts his head back and sighs with annoyance.

“Shut up and listen.” He turns around and you try to cover your shock at his forwardness.

“Are you fucking other guys?”

You open your mouth to answer but he takes a stride forward and grips your chin between his thumb and index finger.

“The truth.”

When you don't speak, he narrows his eyes and takes a step impossibly closer.

“Look me in my eyes. Are we ever going to be more or am I really just a hookup? I need to know.”

You give him a pointed look but he doesn't waver and you roll your eyes.

“Rafe, don't pull at this thread. You know what this is.”

He licks his lower lip and nods before pulling back.

“I can’t do this with you anymore.”

Without skipping a beat, you close the distance he created and run your hands across his chest and onto his broad shoulders.

“I know you like it when I dress up, Rafe. Let's just work it out with our bodies, yeah? Let me ride you and ease your mind.” You purr and with lightning speed, Rafe grabs your throat and spins you around so your back is pressed against the door.

“Don't.” He grits out, but you can see the will starting to crumble in his ocean eyes.

You push against his chest just enough to get his attention, and he keeps his hold on your neck as you slowly move him backward. You both know that this dance always ends the same way, and it infuriates him as much as it turns him on.

He crashes back onto the mattress and you stand between his knees while he peers up at you. If you asked him, Rafe would insist that you’re not real. He swears there’s a glow surrounding you as he finds himself succumbing to you once again.

You reach back and slowly unzip your dress before wiggling your hips dramatically and letting it pool around your feet. You leave the heels on and swing one leg up so you’re half straddling him, and he watches with lust-blown pupils.

As much as he hates this cycle, he loves it just the same. You’ll manipulate him and he’ll let you because that's how much power you have over him.

You slowly crawl up his body, dragging your hands across his twitching muscles until your fingers are laced over his head, and lower your hips until you’re sitting on his bulge.

“Do you want me to stop?” You ask, your lips brushing against his throat.

“No.”

You slowly push forward and brush your chest against his face, sitting up when he tries to nip at the skin. You guide his hands against your hips and shift slightly, eliciting a deep groan.

“Show me how to please you.” You whisper, and something in Rafe snaps. He doesn't care about the party downstairs, he doesn't care that he's giving in to you again; all he cares about is claiming you in a way that shows you he’s capable of taking the control back at any second.

Before you can process, he flips you onto your back and rips your panties in half. You gasp with wide eyes, and Rafe slips his hand behind you. You arch your back so he can unhook your bra while his other hand dips into your folds.

He sucks a hickey into the top of your breast while his nimble fingers slip your bra off with ease, and he licks a strip from the dark bruise to the column of your throat. He keeps his head buried there working on the tender flesh while pumping his fingers in and out of your slick.

You buck up when he curls into your g-spot, and he repeats the movement while gasps fall from your lips.

“I know, baby. I got you.”

He presses one last kiss to your collarbone before trailing his lips and nose all the way down your torso. He wastes no time, and you cry out when his lips wrap around your clit. His free hand settles on the inside of your upper thigh, holding it open.

He hits a spot that causes you to pull away from him, and a sharp slap rings out before he wraps his hand around the back of your leg and yanks you back into him. He moves with your body as you writhe around, and continues his brutal pace.

He has you approaching that high in record time and reaches up to lace his fingers with yours as your head flings back while you tremble against him. He carries you through it the entire time, not even flinching when your nails draw blood or when his signet ring digs into his finger.

As soon as your vision clears, you sit up and start ripping at the buttons on his tux. He smirks at how eager you are and watches the way you try to cover it up. Regardless of what he is to you, no man will ever have you the way he has and you know that.

His lips crash against yours while you fiddle with his tie, and he quickly removes his belt and pants before leaning forward until you're flat against the bed. He gently moves your hands away and takes over, taking off the layers of clothing the best he can without breaking the kiss.

The second you feel the heat from his body, your hands roam his exposed flesh. His large hand grabs the back of your knee and hikes your leg around his waist, and you nod into him. He wraps his hand around his cock and pumps a few times, hissing at the sensation.

He breaks away and presses his forehead to yours before tilting his head down to watch where he presses into you. You both inhale sharply, and you cling to him for dear life as he eases In until his pelvis hits yours.

He rolls his hips, hitting that sweet spot while also brushing against your swollen bundle of nerves. It's a torturously slow pace as he fucks into you deep and slow, and your sweat mingles as your bodies start to fall into a natural rhythm.

You push forward when he pulls back, and he litters bites and licks across your neck. Your sweet moans mix with his deep grunts and occasional whimpers to make a hymn as you worship each other.

“Fuck, you feel too good.” He groans, and you whine into his shoulder.

“You always think you're this little minx that can get whatever she wants. I let you because I want you to be happy. Sometimes you just have to be reminded that you’re not the apex predator you think you are. Not with me.”

His hand wraps around your throat and squeezes lightly, and you grin at the feeling. You can say whatever you want, but Rafe knows you would never let another man have this level of control let alone smile at it. It's those little things that keep a spark of hope alive; moments where he sees you want him as much as he wants you.

He forces your mouth apart with his tongue before devouring you like a man starved. Your skin burns hot as the two of you tangle in the sheets, too lost in each other to care about anything else.

You leverage your weight and flip over, slipping back onto his pulsing cock before he can protest. His head falls back with a strangled groan as he reaches a new depth, and his hands instantly settle on your waist.

You rock back and forth a few times, testing the water before settling in. You note every little gasp and nose scrunch, making sure to make those movements again.

His fingertips dig into the flesh on your hips as he guides you and you watch him through hooded eyes as he attempts to maintain some semblance of composure.

The two of you writhe in unison as you chase your highs, beads of sweat glistening like diamonds as they trickle down your bodies and mingle together.

“Fuck, I love you.”

Rafe is barely within his right mind, but the statement still sends a paralyzing shiver down your spine. For the first time, you feel a tinge of remorse and it causes your movements to stutter.

You recover quickly and continue until you feel him twitch and ride him through his high. Your mind is racing at light speed as you quickly climb off and start dressing, eager to get away.

Suddenly the room feels suffocating as Rafe’s cologne engulfs your senses and you keep your eyes cast downward. You don’t want to see the lacrosse trophies or the framed family photos; reminders that outside of your arrangement, Rafe is a real person with a real life.

“Whoah hold up, slow down.”

Rafe’s voice is laced with confusion as he comes back down and notices you all but sprinting around the room.

His large hands wrap around your biceps in an attempt to stop you, and your heart lurches when you spare a glance at his cerulean eyes.

“You’re not staying?”

Admittedly, you’ve gotten a smidge too comfortable and it’s become somewhat of a routine for you to stay over and leave when the sun comes up.

When you don’t answer and instead try to side step him, his brow furrows and he matches your movement so you’re blocked. His hand comes up to pinch your chin between this thumb and forefinger, and you try to ignore the way your skin tingles.

“Look at me. What’s going on?”

It occurs to you that he isn’t aware of what he said, and you swallow before taking a deep breath and holding your head high.

“I think you’re right. We shouldn’t do this anymore.”

His hand drops in shock, and before he can react you slink around him and race downstairs straight out the door.

Rafe stands in place for a second trying to process what just happened. He yanks on some sweatpants and goes bounding after you, but by the time he makes it outside, you’re already gone.

He runs his hand over his head before taking off back toward his room. He ignores the odd looks he receives from Gala guests roaming the property and continues on his mission until he’s back upstairs holding his phone.

It’s muscle memory at this point, finding you in his favorites comes with ease and it only takes a second for his thumb to press the number that he’s committed to heart.

His heart thumps in his chest as it rings once, then twice.

The number you are trying to reach is unavailable. Please hang up and try again.

He hangs up and calls back three more times only to receive the same dreaded message each time before he lobs his phone across the room and looks up at the ceiling.

“Fuck!”

#rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron outer banks #outer banks angst #outer banks smut #outer banks #obx #outer banks imagine #obx imagine

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yanderenightmare · 5 months

Note

Can you do league of villain in a frat boy au where Dabi loses a bet and Shigaraki tells him that a night with you (Dabi’s cute little girlfriend) is what he wants in return

Shigaraki Tomura

TW: NSFW, dubcon/noncon, drugging, mean Shiggy, none of reader's holes are safe...

fem reader

You weren’t too sure about dating Touya – or Dabi, as the rest of his shady friends call him – but you’d be lying if you said his wayward bad-boy persona didn’t stir up all those girly fantasies you’d spun ever since your first sexual awakening.

He stole you with those eyes of his – stove-top blue and narrowed at you with long mothlike lashes. That being said, you wished he wouldn’t drag you along for parties such as this.

You didn’t know anyone and didn’t want to either.

You tried speaking to the girl who seemed to be around your age, but the yellow of her eyes made you feel preyed on to the point that you went as far as flinching the moment she opened her mouth and showed you her fangs.

And Touya wasn’t paying you any attention either – lounging on the couch alongside a guy who seemed even more troubled. Cuts and cracks on his dry skin, wearing a dirty black hoodie ringed with dandruff you could spot from halfway across the room – messy silver curls escaping where he had it pulled over his head, casting shade over his beady red eyes – one with an old cut drawn over it.

They looked quite the menacing pair in the dark corner – two guys you’d never dare approach hadn’t you known Touya to be rather soft on the inside. Who knew, maybe the silver-haired one was the same – just a scared little boy with daddy issues?

Coming closer, you noticed they were arguing about something – though quietly, you understood that much with how sour Touya looked when you sat down beside him.

“What’s wrong, babe?” You asked softly, tangling your fingers gently within his while pouting up at him. “You want to leave?” You were only slightly ashamed to plant the idea – knowing you were asking out of your own selfish wishes to go home.

“Tch- He wants his girl to loosen up and drink something.” The friend in the other sofa nook scoffed, sliding you a red plastic cup with something brown and bubbly swirling inside it.

You looked at him and then at Touya, who didn’t do anything but give a lousy shrug.

Rather bored, you looked back at the offer and slipped your hand out of the staples and leather – reaching over the coffee table separating you from the red-eyed shut-in, you accepted what he held out for you to take and took a look within the flimsy cup – nose wrinkling at the smell, knowing it was just beer but feeling dejected either way.

“How ‘bout a game?” He asked then.

“Nah,” Dabi answered, even though the question was posed to you.

“Oh- come on~ it’s rude to reject the host.” He argued back in a drawl, his voice scratchy, even more so than Dabi’s smoke-rotten one – his eyes still directed towards you. “I promise you a fun time. What do you say, sweet pea?”

Your eyes shifted between Touya and the other boy. But your boyfriend wasn’t paying you much attention anyway – so you decided, why not?

“What kind of game?”

The one who'd asked snickered then. “Not a game you’ve played before, that’s for sure... but don’t be scared- Dabi here’ll help you out. You can be a team if it gets too hard for yah.” He had a condescending grin stretched across his face.

You felt an inch of regret at the sight of it, though it was paired with a contrasting will to prove him wrong.

Your pride defeated your regret. “That won’t be necessary.”

He visibly found your little act of confidence amusing, giving another dry chuckle before explaining. “In this game, losers can choose to take a drink or take something off.”

“Shig-” Dabi interjected lousily from the sidelines.

But he’s cut off. “What? It’s a party. Let goody-two-shoes make some mistakes-”

“How do you play?” You interrupt the squabble. After all, you weren’t some little girl. You’re fully capable of making your own decisions.

“See, patchface? She’s in.” The boy grinned again – his red eyes going from being narrowed at your boyfriend to looking giddy back at you – starting to explain. “It’s a game where we’ll get to know each other better. Taking turns asking each other questions.”

Your brows furrow. “How can you lose in a game like that?”

Again, his grin widens. “What? Never been asked a question you couldn’t answer?”

You think. “Like in class?”

The grin couldn’t widen anymore, so it split instead and turned into a dry cackle. “Fuckin’ hell, Dabi- where’d you find this one?”

Touya doesn’t answer. He seems angry about something. But it isn’t unusual behavior from the moody raven head.

Either way, the other boy doesn’t seem to mind – offering another chuckle before continuing. “How ‘bout I start asking the questions- since bleach-boy here doesn’t wanna play anyway?”

You’re still a little confused about how it’s all supposed to work, but you figure you’ll understand once he begins. “Ok…”

He licked his cracked lips at that, making you wonder if maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all...

“How many times have you given poor patchwork a taste?”

You go flushed, blurting out a weak-voiced “What?” with eyes wide, looking back at him as though half-expecting him to tell you he was just joking.

But it never came. Instead, he says, “You heard me.”

A few seconds pass while you process the premiss of the game, now understanding what he’d meant by questions you can’t answer.

You look down into your cup, swirling the brown liquid around in it before bringing it up to your lips and taking a swig.

“Tch- drinking already?” He scoffed. “Looks like I’mma win this easy.”

Your face scrunches at the taste on your tongue, but then you swallow. Setting your cup down while wiping your lips with your sleeve. “My turn?”

“No, you drink until you get the courage to answer my questions, then you get your turn.” He reveals, and a sigh leaves you while waiting for the next question, hoping it wouldn’t be as intrusive as the former.

But of course, it wouldn’t be a game otherwise.

“Was he your first?” The question rolls off his tongue lazily – his eyes gleaming knowingly. Offering a gleeful sneer once seeing you bring the cup back to your lips. Asking you another question while you chug it down. “You with him to piss Daddy off?”

“No.” You bark, putting your cup down with a bang – now glaring at him.

He leans further forward, staring vividly back at you. “Don’t lie.”

You don’t back down, narrowing your eyes at him in return. “I'm not lying.”

He cocks his head. “No? Why you’ with him then? Good girl like you? Don’t make much sense from where I'm sitting. Oh wait- I get it. He’s your little pet project, isn’t he? You wanna save him? Tutoring him at school, keeping his dick wet on the side.”

Your nails curl into your thighs and the cup in your other hand crackles from your tightening grip on it. Seething through your nose with a scowl on your face while listening to him.

He leans back against the sofa, nodding his cup at you. “Drink or take your top off.”

It’s your turn to scoff. “I’m with him ‘cause Touya’s a nice guy who fucks me good when I ask him to.”

You spot your boyfriend's head rising at your words, having been scrolling through his phone – now suddenly interested as though what you’d just said was something you shouldn’t have. Maybe he was embarrassed in front of his friend, but the way you saw it – this friend was not someone with an opinion to value.

“My turn?” You ask sharply but don’t bother waiting for an answer. “Where’d you get that scar? D’your Daddy give it to you?”

You spot his red eye twitch just a bit and take it as a victory. A smile tugging at the corner of your frown.

There’s a standstill for a small moment. But then he scoffs out a dry chuckle, this one a touch more strained than before. “Three sips, and she’s got bigger balls than you, patchwork.” His eyes don’t leave you while he says it, still staring.

You return it with a similar look, but not quite – his was more curious, whilst yours was just deathly.

“Sorry to disappoint, but it’s just a skin condition.”

You give a snort of disbelief at that. “Now, who’s lying?”

“My old man’s a piece of shit, but he didn’t raise a liar. And if he ever left a scar, it wouldn’t be a scratch as small as this.” He bites back. “My turn. You like it rough?”

You almost look at Touya, wanting to give him a look as though to tell him to get off his ass and beat the crap out of this disrespectful shit-eating asshole. But you think better of it. This is your fight, and Touya had already warned you not to play.

So you drink.

“You ever let him get at it from behind?” He pushes on.

And again, you drink.

“Does he suck on your tits and call you mommy?”

That’s it. “Shut up!” You bark, standing up in a flurry, wanting to leap over the table to strangle him – but as soon as you’re on your feet, you feel a sudden burden take your head.

“Wow- hey- you good?” Touya stands next to you, keeping you up by your arm – having saved you from barreling over.

He looks fuzzy in your eyes – blurry and in multiples – between three and five – you can’t count it.

“A’ight, come here- you’ve just had a bit too much to drink-” Even his voice is hard to place, a muddled echo so far away yet inside your head all at the same time. “Let's lie down- and you can sleep it off...”

You feel groggy, or… you can’t really feel anything at all, and the feeling in itself reminds you of sleep – no, it’s heavier than that – feverish – reminding you of the type of exhaustion that forces you to fall asleep.

“Take me home…” You whine drowsily, curling the fabric of his hoodie in a fist while leaning on him for support – head soon too heavy to hold on your own, so you rest it against his chest.

You think you hear him give you an “Okay,” followed by the distant feeling of your feet being swept from the floor before the pressure of whatever clouding your mind finally snuffs you out.

You don’t know how much time passes before you feel yourself again – slowly waking.

You hear sounds – voices, you think – but they’re muddled, and for a while, you think they come from behind the walls. But after some time, you eventually realize they’re inside the room with you.

“Not yet. She isn’t ready.” One of the voices says.

“It’s not like she’ll feel anything.” Another argues.

“She’ll feel it in the morning.” The first insists.

You think you recognize his voice.

“Fuck that- you do it if it’s so important to you.” The other finalizes.

Someone’s touching you, you slowly realize – but any reaction after the understanding never comes.

Both of them are touching you, you register – but still, any thoughts you have around the discovery are still left undecided.

You think you’re naked. But your skin is so numb they might as well be touching you through several layers of cotton. But no, you think something’s inside you.

You’re able to blink your eyes open after a minute or more – it’s still hard to tell. You look down or forward – either way, over and passed the cleft of your tits – between your legs.

There’s a nest of black hair there, bobbing up and down.

You recognize his tongue piercing, lapping over your clit while his lanky fingers scissor your gummy insides in those soft spots he’d taught you about.

You grasp it more once you place it, moaning at the feeling. “Touya~”

His blue eyes look up at the sound of his name. There’s a look in them you’ve never seen before. If you’d seen it on anyone else, you’d say it looked anxious. But this was Dabi, and you don’t think the feeling could ever register with him.

“Fuck- she didn't drink everything…” He mumbles beneath his breath.

But not to you, it would seem.

There’s movement next to you, something or someone. Your eyes won’t focus enough to see what or who it is. It’s too dark anyway.

“Touya, what’s-”

It picks up your arm. It – being a dark figure. You think it has long hair. Its hands are cold.

It drops your arm again, and then it talks. “Doesn't matter. Looks like the drug did its job anyway- she’s just gonna be awake for the fun.”

The panic is beginning to brew now – though slowly – you’re still confused, still too numb to really understand what’s going on or even care to try and figure it out.

The figure shuffles. Its knee dips into the mattress you’re on.

“You can piss off now.” It says.

Then you feel it crawl on top of you.

You’re scared now. Struggling for air that seems to come all too slowly, only barely enough to satiate the growing need in your chest.

The words are starting to make sense, dawning on you like a crash, when the slight inkling of what’s happening festers in your mind, making you rigid all over.

Then, the warmth of Touya disappears, and you're left to feel both panicked and cold and desperately hopelessly alone.

“No, please, Touya- don't go- don't leave me-” You beg in a weak-voiced moan.

You tried to make it louder, but nothing within you seemed to have the strength. It was a struggle to even make the words at all.

“Forget about him. He can't help you.” Whatever on top of you dismisses, accompanied by its gritty fingers taking a pinching hold around your jaw, digging its fingernails into the chub of your cheeks, and directing you to look up, only for you to see those awful beady red eyes you’d been dreading. “Focus on me, sugar-tits.”

You whine. Sobbing out a last undiscernible outcry for Touya, but you fear he’s already left the room.

Either way, the sight of your pretty eyes quickly welling with tears, soon pouring down in thick streams, makes that dreadful smile above you only crease wider.

He lifts your thighs, draping them atop his own, spreading them on either side of his hips while he sags over you – his breath on your cheek as the ghosting feel of his lips brush the shell of your ear. “Promise~ you’ve never been fucked like this before~” He huffed with a lick, followed shortly by the crisp and sharp sounds of metal unbuckling.

“Stop- don’t-” You whimper out between mushed lips, but it’s swallowed by an unwanted kiss.

It’s wet – tongue first, then teeth, then words. “Dabi has this disillusion that you’re too soft to handle anything…” His kisses don’t stop – sucking your lip between his before smacking off to continue the thought. “But I knew it from the moment I saw you...”

Something heavy and warm flopped out onto your stomach, then drew back to rub against the soft chub of your pussy. Touya had left you swollen and wet, and the guy he’d left you with was reaping all that had been sown – smacking the spine of what you sobbed to know was his erect shaft right in the wet of your messy slit with a chilling squelch.

“You need it rough, don't you, little slut?” He finished off, running the fat bulge of his cockhead between your pussylips until it caught your pretty coin-sized hole – pushing in without another spared second.

You gave a louder whine – thighs tensing, wanting to shut but kept apart by his hips thrusting forward until kneading into your plush underside.

“Oh, you don't like that? Don't like being called slut?” He babied with a grunt. “Or don’t like getting raw cock?”

Snickering under his breath, he gave another nudge as he bottomed out even deeper, bullying into that very intimate and vulnerable spot that made your entire body curl – rigid from the sting of feeling his entire shaft nestled within you, squeezing it tight for purchase with toes curling in the air.

He groaned at the grip, staying stored up to the hilt within you for a long moment – savoring the feel.

“Tch- your cunt, swallowing me all tight and wet- tells me different- bratty fuckin’ slut. I fuckin’ knew it-”

You held your breath, letting it slip when he dragged out – beginning to sob from the pain once he started pounding.

He still held your face – now locking his palm over your lips instead, keeping your cries muffled while his face dipped down to your neck – sucking new bruises atop the old ones given to you by Dabi.

“Tch- fucker gave me a condom. What a fuckin’ pussy-” He laughed hotly, strained as he shoved himself inside your choke-hole, which slowly surrendered to his size – stuffed so air-tight, slick escaped and smeared your thighs with a glossy sheen, running in slim lines down your ass. “Guess this cunt’s never gotten a real taste.”

He pushed himself so much deeper than Touya had ever done – greedily pounding his tip in all the way – making it feel as though he was trying to break into your womb – forcing your body to arch off the bed, tensing and throttling him tight – squealing your throat raw into his salty palm with hot tears now streaming thick down your face.

His other hand was squeezing your tit just as greedily, sinking his blunt nails into the soft fat, leaving dents in the flesh.

“Lucky you, gettin’ your first creampie.” He hissed, giving your nipple one last pull before motioning down to the plush of your stomach, pushing down until he could feel where his head was ramming into you. “Don't worry, Sweet-tits, I’ll dump all of it deep inside you so you can feel it right here in your belly.”

His tongue was fat and flat, slurping your neck with eager growls while you kept your eyes squeezed shut, wanting to disappear – wishing Touya to come back – even if to tell you it was all some joke – that it was somehow not real. It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real. It can’t be real.

But it is.

And you know it for certain once you feel the first spurt of that ruining warmth fill you.

His hips stagger against the underside of your thighs – cock sleaved to the base with the pudge of his balls nudged sweetly against your taint – clamping up, squeezing them free of jizz as he dumped it all into the deepest coziest part of you – releasing a throaty groan right at your ear all the way up until the very last drop pilled out and into you.

“Heh- milk’t it all,” He breathed with a short laugh a minute later. “I knew you were a dirty slut.”

His hand dragged off your mouth, only to stuff two digits inside it, pushing your tongue down while releasing a fat drop of spit down your throat.

“A mommy-boy like Dabi wouldn’t know the first thing of what to do with a snooty brat like you...” He says, rubbing slow and steady circles into that stuffed place of your belly – knowing he'd just painted it white. He stayed inside you until his cock hardened again. “You’re better off being my cumrag~ I’ll teach all these holes how to take cock- next up is your tight little ass-”

The drug wanes after a few hours, but you’re slicked in flakey cum from your forehead all the way down to your toes and too exhausted to move much more than a finger. You feel it trickle out from both your holes – mouth sticky with it.

“That’s a pretty slut~ lie in it like the filthy cum-whore you are. You earned it.”

You can only croon in response. Head muddy, eyes glazed.

“Say cheese, slut.”

There’s a flash.

“Bet Dabi won’t want you back after seeing this.”

#yandere shigaraki #yandere my hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere shigaraki tomura #yandere shiggy #yandere shigaraki x reader #yandere mha #yandere bnha #shigaraki smut #shigaraki thirst #yandere tomura shigaraki #yandere tomura #tomura smut #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki fanfiction #shigaraki x y/n #shigaraki imagine #shigaraki x you #tomura x you

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bloodycassian · 4 days

Text

Striking a Deal - Reader x Azriel

Reader is a demon, capable of granting information in exchange for things she wants. When Azriel summons her, she may be more than he can handle.

Warnings - ‘forced’ sex due to circumstance, bondage, unbreakable ties, choking, teasing, orgasm denial, HFO/hands free orgasm, cock milking, squirting, cum paly, g-spot and clitoral stim, fingering, mention of knot (no knotting), hand job, wing play, mention of blood ingestion (not super sexual, not in scene),

As always, skip to ++++++++++ for just the nasty stuff. <3

NSFW 18+ MDNI

Azriel was desperate. Fully, truly desperate for stooping this low.

Still, he chanted on, plowing through verse after verse of the summoner’s spell.

He had little regret over what he’d done. Scaring away fifteen priestesses hadn’t been hard, but finding the right tome had been. He should have asked for the book first.

“Of blood, and by this flame I summon you.” He finished, slicing a cut into his wrist deep enough to coat the pile of bones and herbs he’d gathered for this ritual.

And there was silence. He glanced around, taking in the painted walls of the temple and carved archways. The moon was little more than a sliver, the thing he’d summoned could be anywhere. He scented his own fear and clamped down on it, forcing his mind to ease.

To fear would be fatal, now.

“I expected someone more powerful than a shadowsinger.” Her voice was like honey dripping into his ears. His neck went stiff, as if a puppeteer was controlling him. His shadows lashed out into the darkness, quickly finding the owner of the voice and wrapping them - no.. her - in bindings.

Very much her. Gorgeous proportions and the hair, his mind went foggy with lust. He saw her now that his shadows had pinpointed her, and was wholly overwhelmed with the perfection of her. Something deep inside him rumbled with warning, though.

This was no witch or sorcerer, not even a Queen. This was something far more powerful and deadly, and he struggled to remember that.

“I may be more powerful than you know.” He said, attempting to put on the saam air of seduction the female radiated.

She walked through his shadows as if they weren’t even there, and again his mind quaked with unfamiliar fear.

“What is it such a powerful shadowsinger needs then?” She hummed, bending beside him and plucking a bone from the floor. She stuck out her tongue and lapped at the length of it, staring at Azriel the whole time. His cock surged, and he cleared his throat.

“I seek a weapon. Something to end a God.” Azriel began, gauging her unimpressed reaction.

“And?” She prompted, taking another lick of his blood. Goosebumps broke out along his flesh.

“Would you be able to help with something like that?” He his his irritation behind an easy smile, watching her tongue. At least her beauty made up for such informality.

“I suppose. It depends how much the asker is willing to pay for such a thing.”

“I have gold.” He supplied, not convince his lowest bid would be enough. Especially not with a demon this peculiar.

“I do too.” She smiled, and waved a hand. His vision went blurry for a moment, then all around him appeared as if he were in a vault of gold marks, gold pillars, stretching from the floor going up and up into the blackened sky. A hot breath fell on his neck, and when he whipped around, the golden eye of a massive beast greeted him.

He jumped backwards, knocking his ritual items over, sending them clattering through the temple. He whirled back around, facing the demon he’d brought here. She shrugged, casting the bone aside and approaching him.

“Show me what you’re really willing to lose, Shadowsinger.” She walked two fingers up his abdomen, to his chest and rested them under his jaw, forcing him to look up. “A weapon that powerful is going to cost more than anything I sense you carry.”

“What do you want?” He hissed, hating how much her touch turned him on. Her nails scratched down his neck, and it was like a branding iron on his skin. Chills raced along his arms.

She sighed, admiring the way his throat bobbed, the way the tendons in his neck stuck out when he was so tense. “I’ve been so… lonely, stuck in the Pit by myself.” She pouted, making his cock ache with the suggestion of what she was proposing. “No one summons us anymore. All you fae and mortals trust so much in your common magics and healers. No one is desperate enough to call upon us anymore.”

He took a steadying breath, his heart hammering in hsi chest. She leaned in, so close to his ear he could feel her hot breath against it. “I want you… to summon me. To bring me back to this planet and allow me to live. Even for the short while before they pull me back. Cast this same ritual, and bring me back.” She took his hand and brought it to her breast, squeezing his fingers tight around it. A groan fell from him, and before he could even think about the implications of striking such a deal, his mouth was on hers.

The deal had been struck.

++++++++++++++++++++++

The searing burn of his tongue upon yours was so deliciously delightful, so full of need and challenge that you could hardly feel the brand of the deal writing itself on your neck.

The kiss had sealed the bond, the rest of this would be just for fun.

“Your weapon-” You say between moans, pulling his tunic off and freeing his muscled body. “Will be found in the deepest lake on the highest peak-”

He rips your clothes off, tearing and urgent with need. “I didn’t summon you for a riddle.” He growls, dipping his head to catch a nipple between his teeth. A sharp gasp escapes you, and you squeeze his cock in your hand.

“You didn’t summon me as your whore, either.” You correct, yanking him back by the hair. He bares his teeth, and his shadows wrap around your ankles, thick and cool against your skin.

“You certainly act like that’s what you’re here for.” He grunts, and those shadows snake farther up your exposed legs until they’re massaging into your thighs. A ripple of want shoots through you at their closeness to your waiting cunt.

You’re too distracted by his hands and shadows on you to really give him a comeback. Truthfully, his filthy mouth could be saying anything at this moment and you wouldn’t care, not as long as he was touching you. It’d been a century since you’d seen anything other than the black pit of your home, and with such a gorgeous male before you, how could one resist? Your blood had been thrumming with need the second you’d crawled out of your home.

He pulls you forward, onto one of the short steps that leads to the recessed center of the room. “Now, what do I have to do to get you to bring me this weapon?” He rasps against your skin, biting your shoulder as he sat you down on the step. He pulls away, only to start lapping down your body until he is between your thighs, joining his shadows there.

“You want another deal, Shadowsinger?” You pant, leaning back on the step behind you and spreading your legs wide for him. He groans and the shadows ghost over your folds with teasing, almost-touches.

“Tell me.” He demands, and laps at you with a flattened tongue. “Such a pretty pussy.” He praises.

Your legs snap together, squeezing his head. “I cannot retrieve it for you, but I can take you to where it is.” You promise, and the half - truth of it feels sour on your tongue. You could retrieve it, but it’d take much more time than you had after you were released from the Pit.

He hums, seemingly content with the answer as he laps at you. His shadows join, dipping into your pussy and writhing there, fucking you softly but with ferocity. Your breaths are coming in shallow, frantic spurts as you focus on not coming on his face.

You want his cock for that.

A lick of your power lashes out, breaking his shadows away and freezing him in place with a leash of your own making. Magic bound, he straightens at your command and the sight of his surprise sets you giggling.

“You’re eager.” You critique. Sitting up, you take his cock in your hands and admire it, loosening your magic on him when you feel him relax and sigh at your touch. “Much too eager.” You observe the thick rivulets of pre-come dripping from his tip. You dip down and take a taste of him, humming at the sense of it. The salty, needy taste of him.

You wrap your hand around him and give him a long, slow pump and he shudders. His cock is magnificent. You can barely touch your fingers together around him with his thickness, and the knot at the base of him is hardly formed. Was he one of the fae able to change his cock at will? A ripple of excitement rolls though you at the possibility of it. You stroke him again, and another drop of precome wets his tip and you tap the tip of your finger with it, trailing it over his shaft and up his abdomen until you reach his lips. He takes it eagerly still, enjoying the taste of himself it seems.

You bind his hands to his sides, and ghost your fingers over his cock. Barely touching him, just as his shadows had teased you. He spits venom, cursing you with each delicate touch. You stroke him hard and through occasionally, but watching him be so needy for the touch is such a turn-on.

Your nails trail from his balls and up his shaft, then you circle the tip of him gently with the pad of your finger, swirling his lubrication there. He’s watching you the entire time, his brows pulled together and his lips a deep shade of red that matches the tip of his cock.

“I am glad that you were the one who’s summoned me.” You hum, getting up and going behind him. Even with him on his knees, he still reaches the height of your breast. He’s huge and lithe in his build, even his wings are a powerful kind. You touch them gently, humming when he hisses curses under his breath.

That gets your attention.

“Sensitive. Illyrian wings are different than the wings of other winged species, aren’t they?” You question, raking your nails over the arches of them. He cries out, lurching forward but your magic catches him, hauling him back up and in place before he can fold onto the step.

You kneel behind him, and wrap an arm around to take his cock into your hand again. He shudders and thrusts forward, into your grip. He’s needy and desperate and with you touching his wings he’s going to cum embarrassingly quickly. He hates how much he’s loving this, how the control you have over him is making him so fucking desperate.

He fucks into your hand, his precome wetting him enough that it heightens the experience further. Your hand is wet and hot and not nearly as good as your mouth had been but it’s better than the teasing touches you’d been giving him earlier, and he’s grateful. His need is rising and his muscles are working, his balls going tight with the need of release.

Then, you pull away. Your hand is gone and he’s left fucking the air like an animal, and he’s shuddering. “You fucking- bitch..” He grinds out, his abdomen flexing with how close he’d been. His balls tighten and relax, his cock twitching and slapping against his stomach.

You stand and go back to be in front of him, watching him twitch and writhe uncomfortably. His cock is surging and desperately seeking more stimulation, The angry redness of the tip a delicious strawberry color that makes you salivate.

You go back to tracing over him, and you can feel his power, his every fiber struggling against your magic. He’s close, so on the edge that you’re sure he’ll break with only a few more strokes. Good. You want him to. You want him to remember the only female who’d bested him at his own desires. You want him to fuck you endlessly, if that is the only time you have on this planet.

His balls are tight and heavy, and when you trace a finger along his ridge he shudders, leaning forward again. You allow it this time, catching his lips with yours and letting your tongue flick over his own. He groans into your mouth and snaps his hips forward when you make a loose fist over his cock.

His needy cries echo across the temple like a song.

You tighten your hand, allowing him to fuck into it for a few more strokes before pulling away again. But it’s too late. You pull back and watch as he thrusts into the air, his cock pulsing with his orgasm. He’s snarling and cursing as the pleasure takes him in a violent way. You watch in supreme pleasure as he gets what he finally wants. His cum shoots out and lands on your legs, your belly. The stone floor and steps. His spend is hot and dribbles from his tip when you release his bindings.

He wavers, and his shadows return slowly. His muscles flex as he leans forward, clearly exhausted with the experience.

His hands shake when he leans over you, catching your chin in his hand. “You are a horrible little thing.” He curses, then forces his tongue into your mouth.

He forces you back, so you’re arched against the steps, and the fingers of his other hand go between your folds, slickening them before plunging in. The most exquisite burn fills you, and is then eased by his curling fingers. He draws out your wetness, coating your clit with it and rubbing firm circles for a moment before pushing deep back inside of you.

He uses his entire forearm and wrist while he does it, truly fucking you with his hand. His fingers are thick and they do satiate a part of your own need, but it’s nothing compared to what his cock would be.

But this part of the game is up to him. You’d had your fun, and now it was his turn.

His tongue is aggressive in your mouth, fighting your own and showing you exactly what he’d been doing against your pussy before. He pulls away, leaving drool on your chin. His shadows go to your wrists, and you allow them to lock you in place, legs spread wide and wrists bound to the floor.

This is his turn. If you want him to stay true to his bargain not just for bargaining sake, you’ll let him have his turn. You could use him, sure, - force him in place and take him as you wanted - but where was the fun in that?

“Azriel-” You pant, and he takes your throat in a hand. Not hard, not dangerous, but certainly a silent command.

He’s working you deep and swiping against your g-spot with every stroke, and if he doesn’t stop you’re not sure if you’ll be able to either.

“Making me cum without even letting me really touch you first?” He scolds, punctuating it with his thumb stroking over your clit. Your yes clamp shut, your thighs desperately trying to do the same but his shadows - as weak as they are - won’t allow you to. You moan, the pressure of his hand against your throat a devious thing.

Your body is betraying you, reaching your high peaks so quickly while he rubs your clit. Your walls squeeze him, wanting more. Needing more than just two fingers. But his thumb is relentless and consistent, you try to fight the building orgasm but it only makes your g-spot more sensitive.

“Azriel please-” You whine, panting and squirming as much as you can under him. His hand leaves your throat and instead goes to the back of your head, knotting in your hair there. He forces you to watch his hands word, how spread you are for him, the way your wetness shines against this dark skin. He’s humming something in your ear but you can barely hear it over the mounting pleasure, the cascade of twitching need that writhes inside you, begging to be released. A dam too overflowed, your control slips, and slips.

You push against the heat, the pressure of the orgasm but again, he brushes into that spot inside you and your clit again, and you’re shaking - coming apart in his grasp. Wetness coats him, your own juices flowing out of you in an intense way, splattering against the floor and coating his arm. The wet sounds of his fingers still working you echo against the high ceilings and stone walls.

You’re shaking, shuddering and breathing hard when he gently removes his fingers then laps at them.

The sight nearly sends you into another orgasm.

“Safe to say you’ll be summoned often, little demon.” He says, offering you a finger wet with your own juices.

You take it greedily, sucking on his finger the same way you wanted to suck his cock.

“Next time I expect you to last longer.” You critique, earning a laugh from him.

“If I make that promise now, does that mean we get to fuck again and seal that bond?”

#azriel #azriel x reader #reader x azriel #acotar fic #acotar smut #azriel shadowsinger #shadowsinger #azriel fic

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totheblood · 1 year

Note

hii love can you write hcs of ellie williams in protective gf mode

a/n: of course! thank u for the request <;3 p.s little bonus ai audio at the end (ellie yelling at u lol, ellie telling u to drink up, ellie asking u whats wrong)

protective gf ellie

it’s no secret that ellie is extremely protective of the people around her, but when it came to you it was a whole other story

she’s protective of you out in the world, if you’re on patrol together she will always enter new areas before you, scoping it out before giving you the okay to come in

“it’s safe to come in, babe.”

“you’re ridiculous.”

“and you’re still alive, so where’s my thank you?”

she would definitely try not to baby you since she’s positive you can hold your own (it’s very hot to her how badass you are on patrol) but sometimes she just can’t control it

she knows she’s immune so she would much rather take her chances than have you be bit, but you don't know that so you get into little quips about why she doesn’t let you fight infected

“i don’t see why i can’t clear out the area with you ellie, i feel like i’m not pulling my weight.”

“it’s not safe, you could get bit.”

“SO COULD YOU!”

“but i won’t.”

she will always check the sturdiness of the floor before telling you to follow her (she’s fallen through too many floors to take her chances with you)

when you do end up getting hurt on patrol she gets mad

like unreasonably angry at you… she’s working on it

“what the fuck were you thinking?! going in there gun’s blazing, you didn’t know how many of them there were!” she would scold you while tending to your wounds, it was honestly very confusing

“i’m sorry, i jus-“

“don’t do it again.” she would say it in her sternest voice before kissing the gauze where she patched you up

when it comes to protecting you from other people in jackson ellie was known for being ruthless

a guy hitting on you at the diner? she would slide into the booth next to you and wrap her arm around your waist with an exaggerated, “hey baby.”

someone who won’t leave you alone when you’re obviously uncomfortable? she would immediately step in between the two of you with her finger pointed in the guys face, “hey back the fuck up!”

if she ever saw you crying, all hell would break loose

inside her rage would be boiling, but on the outside she was running up to you, putting your face in her hands, scanning your body for any injuries, and asking you with the most tender voice, “what’s wrong, baby?”

“these guys would not stop making fun of me on my way home.” you would explain in between sniffles “just got so overwhelmed, but i’m okay.”

“who? what did they look like? what were they saying?”

“ellie, don’t do anything.”

“i won’t, just tell me. wanna make sure those assholes shovel horse shit for a month.”

after you would tell her she’d press a kiss on your forehead and stay with you until you fell asleep

after she would go out and find the guys who made you cry and beat them up (violence isn’t the answer but this is ellie and she’s a sucker for revenge)

ellie’s actually not above punching anyone for you, she just would never let you see that side of her

a part of her also wants to protect you from herself and what she’s capable of

so whenever she’s not doing mentally well she would seperate herself from you so she doesn’t lash out at you

she hates the look on your face when anyone yells at you and she knows she wouldn't be able to live with herself if she was on the receiving end

she also always walks you home, she likes when you call her a gentleman and kiss her goodnight

she’s also protective of you when you’re not feeling well, absolutely ignoring her own health to make sure you’re eating, sleeping, and getting enough water

“c’mon baby, drink up.” she would coo as she gently sat you up in your bed, her protective hand resting on the small of you back while you drank

she would stroke your hair as you slept, constantly checking your body temperature as she waited for your fever to break

on the flipside, whenever she was sick she wouldn’t let you around her

you would be banging on her door with homemade soup being like “ellie, open this goddamn door!”

and her sick ass would say “no! don't wanna get you sick!” through her stuffy nose

“fine, but i’m leaving the soup outside your door, please make sure you eat it and drink water!”

“thank you.”

“okay, bye, i love you!”

“i love you more”

she’s always doting on you, making sure your happy and satisfied

if you’re eating together she would make sure you are full before she finishes her plate just in case you want more

at community events her eyes would always return to you even when she’s in conversation with someone else

“she’s fine y’know? just the spring dance.” jesse would say after her looking over at you for the tenth time in their 15 minute conversation

“i know. i just like looking at her.” it wasn’t a lie, but she was still just making sure you were okay

ai audios:

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fan fic #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams oneshot #modern!ellie williams #college!ellie williams #ellie williams one shot #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams hcs

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inbarfink · 7 months

Text

I'm pretty sure my very first post about 'Fionna and Cake' was about pointing out this line in "Fionna Campbell"

Is a reference to "I Remember You", where Marceline said that very same line to Ice King

At the time I just took it as another little bit of Foreshadowing for the connection between Fionnaworld and Simon.

But now that we've established a bit more about Cake's plights, and I started thinking more about this... I wonder if this line is meant to highlight the ways in which Simon's struggles under the Curse of the Magic Crown and Cake's struggles after having her Magic taken away from her kinda mirror each other.

You know, turning into Ice King took away Simon's mind and ability to reason (by pumping his brain full of Madness and Sadness) and his ability to communicate (by tanking his already-kinda-awkward communication skills) and even kinda took away his body.

And becoming an ordinary cat did all of these things for Cake as well - took away her mind and ability to reason (by giving her an intelligence closer to a regular housecat) and her ability to communicate (by making her unable to speak or even comprehend human speech)

And taking away her voice and the Stretchy body that is clearly the one she feels most comfortable with.

And ... so what happened in that scene back in IRY is Ice King, in the middle of writing a love song about Princess Bubblegum, suddenly has a moment of Clarity about how lonely and miserable he is. Enough Clarity to know that he's unfathomably sad and that there's something Wrong with him that's sabotaging all of his relationship - but not enough clarity to know what it is. So he just... has a total breakdown

Lashing out and throwing ice magic anywhere. Then Marceline, uncomfortable and worried about Ice King's behavior, tackles him and says the Line.

Meanwhile, in the first episode of 'Fionna and Cake'...

Both Fionna and Cake feel like there's something off about their lives, But Fionna can at least articulate it better as like, general ennui or a quarter-life crisis, rather than Cake's little housecat mind not really comprehending or capable of fully expressing what she's feeling at all.

Leading to concerning behavior such as her apparently not eating for the last three days.

And suddenly, she has her moment of Clarity. She sees these Portal Sparkles and she seems to know on some level that they'll do something good for her. Especially as she tries to shove her head in the ice

And later is shown obsessed with ice in general - even without the sparkles directly being around.

On some level, Cake understands the mechanics of the Portal Sparkles better than Fionna does - but on all other levels she's still a housecat and probably has no idea what is going on with her own mind as well.

And from Fionna's perspective she's just acting weird and spreading ice all over the house and lashing out at her in her confusion over her own feelings.

I think, perhaps whatever part of Simon's subconscious has subtle control over Fionnaworld noticed the similarities between Cake's situation and his own memories of being the Ice King - and thus, Marceline's old words coming out of Fionna's mouth.

The similarities don't end there, either. Cake and Simon both have to go through a lot grief with people still treating them as their old selves. General folks in Ooo treating Simon like Ice King

And Fionna's tendency to be overprotective of Cake even though Cake is now an incredibly OP shapeshifter and Fionna's still just an athletic human

And to speak for her even though she can speak for herself now

And sometimes kinda condescending to her about her own judgement

All make Cake feel, and not unjustifiably so, that Fionna still sees her as her old self, as a Housecat. She literally says so in the same episode where Fionna and Cake's friendship is tested the most.

And Cake's anxious desire to bring Magic into her world even after it was confirmed that she can at least stay as herself in Fionnaworld, I think that's also a mirror of Simon's anxieties. Simon felt like he, an ordinary non-magical man, could never truly fit in within the wacky and magical world of Ooo

And Cake might've been afraid of the same being true in reverse about being a Magical Cat in the least Magical world in the whole multiverse. At the very least she must've been worried about being forced to pretend to be a non-magical cat again like Simon tried to make her do back in Farmworld.

(Remember how her failure to pull this off almost got her eaten?)

And in the end, the resolution to both of these mirror dilemma was... kind of the same? Well, sort of. Fionnaworld now has a bit more of the Magic and Weirdness in it but it's not like Simon made Mainworld Ooo less wacky. But even with that extra bit of Multiverse Wackiness going on in Fionnaworld now... if the Normal Guy can get along among the strange and magical creatures

The Magical Cat can get along with all the normal and mundane people.

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zombiekooo · 6 months

Text

Taming You (Rick Grimes x Fem Reader)

Warnings: • Angry/Rough Sex, Dacryphilia (crying kink), Choking, Sub/Dom Play, Dirty Talk, Age Gap,

A/N: This is quite rough, so I will give you a warning. It is NOT noncon whatsoever (our Rick would never) but I’d like to say Reader does say ‘no’ and ‘stop’ but it isn’t because she hasn’t consented. Everything is safe sane and consensual on this page ;)

(9k words)

Rick watches as you walk through Alexandria’s gates with a gun in hand. You wear no expression, your head down to avoid any wandering eyes. You’ve got a smear of blood across your cheek, red droplets leaving a trail behind you.

He's startled. It felt like a splash of freezing cold water was poured over his head and awoke him from a deep slumber. Quickly, shame falls upon him.

The last couple of nights were a struggle for him. The thoughts of you seemed to enchant his mind whenever he'd close his eyes and fall back upon his bed after a particularly stressful day. It quickly became a routine to stroll outside, allowing the cool air to ground him from his perverted thoughts-- which he had been doing just now until you interrupted him. So when he sees the face from his dreams across from him, the very face he was trying his hardest to avoid thinking about, the guilt finally confronts him like a stinging crack across the cheek.

But oh, you would look so beautiful beneath him. Your eyes which were always narrowed would soften into a delicate, heavy-lidded expression just for him. Your frown would ease, and your lips would part and instead of scoffs, you would unleash pretty little moans he knew you were capable of.

That expression he was so desperate to see again would pop into his mind during his disgraceful fantasies. The first time he ever saw you, trapped behind cell bars in Terminus, the image of your youthful cheeks, rosy and plumped, tears glistening them and making them look like glossy red apples that he so badly wanted to bite into. It was beginning to drive him mad from how often he'd seen that exact expression in his dreams. The pure desperation in your face, grabbing his wrist so gently through the bars of the cell you were caged in. He remembers how wet your eyelashes were, the way your lips parted to speak when the building had blown up which had forced everyone to evacuate, and in a whirlwind of crashes and screams, seeming as if time had stopped, you whispered,

"Can't I come with you?"

His fantasies would play like a CD inside his head, thinking of how he could recreate that same expression on your face but from pleasure instead of fear. Would you be as defiant in the bedroom as you were in life? Or would you be submissive and pleading? Grabbing him with such neediness that you would cry out of frustration just for him to pleasure you, your lashes would cling together wetly and your cheeks would redden into an adorable rose shade that he would so happily lick the tears off of--

Stop, Rick.

He shakes his head, grimacing.

It wasn't like this before, these thoughts never existed until now-- or at least that's what he tells himself. It was just because he was safe, you were safe, in a community, together. No constant threat that kept you paranoid day in and day out. No question of where to go next or who keeps watch over the camp next. No, that was gone now.

Still, he knows it's terrible to think of you that way, even after all the time he's known you. You were nearly half his age, cold-hearted and stubborn-- you would never think of him more than the man who saved you.

But-- he knew you had a soft spot for him, and just that fact alone gave him some kind of hope, even if he may never act on it. Even if he shouldn't act on it.

Although he tells himself that you were off limits, here he was, standing on the street and watching you strut your way inside the walls. Past midnight. Similar to how you did nearly every day this week. His curiosity grew, and maybe the excuse to take a walk at night wasn't just to clear his mind anymore, but instead to wait for your silhouette to silently breach the walls of Alexandria and dip back into the shadows of your house, thinking that nobody had seen you.

You were breaking his rules. In fact, all week you had broken it, four times exactly. However, he never confronted you about it. If he was being honest with himself, it was because he was scared to look you in the eyes, he knew that if he were to do that, all he would imagine were those teary eyes he'd played over and over in his head for the past month.

But, he knows he couldn't keep letting you believe you were being sneaky.

Rick gathers the strength to reveal himself, exposing himself from the shadows he had lurked under for the past week. He was dressed simply. A brown jacket with a wool collar draped over a plain gray-sleeved shirt, paired with navy blue jeans.

The moment he revealed himself your head shot up to look up at him, instantly sensing his presence. He finds amusement in the way your face contorted into a surprised expression, your fast pace slowing down until you were nearly at a stop. Absentmindedly, you bring a hand to your cheek as if trying to cover the obvious bleeding wound from him.

"It's past midnight. How'd you get around the guards?" Rick asks almost cheekily, enjoying the way your face paled.

"Snuck out," You quickly respond with a shrug of your shoulder, keeping your eyes down.

Rick raised an eyebrow, knowing instantly you were lying. He'd seen the gates open for you-- you had convinced someone to let you pass.

He noticed the way you squirmed beneath his gaze and the downcast of your eyes. You were a shitty liar.

"Try again." He sneers. "Where'd you get that cut on your cheek?" His tone turned colder and the loose smile he wore in the beginning began to straighten.

"Tripped," You lie again. This time, he saw the way you leaned your weight side to side, your antsy fingers tapping at your gun. He took a step forward, closing the small gap between the two of you. The blood from your cheek had left a sheer trail of red down your jaw, slithering to your neck and finally dipping under your low-cut collar and between your breasts. There, he noticed your stuttered breaths and the uneven fall of your chest.

"How?" He asks again, examining the rest of your body with his intense stare. Your collar was torn, and your sleeves ripped up to your shoulders, leaving nothing more than some flimsy fabric to cover your exposed arm. As his gaze continued down (his concern stopping him from lingering at your curves) he noticed your belt had been lost, your jeans sluggish around your hips. A faint red mark of a boot was indented into your thigh.

It was obvious that you had gotten into a scramble with somebody.

"A walker popped out in front of me. I got surprised and took a tumble." You reply after a short pause, his gaze making you nervous.

Normally, if it was anybody else other than Rick, you would be scoffing and pushing past them with no more than a roll of your eyes. But something about the man in front of you intimidated you, even if he was the reason why you were still alive today. He reminded you of a panther. Nothing escaped his gaze... nothing. Which is why you felt so uneasy, you knew he would find out the truth even if it wasn't today. You had a hunch he knew that you'd been sneaking out at night, and it was only a matter of time before he would confront you about it. You just wish it wasn't today.

"That's a lie," Rick says, becoming more and more frustrated as you went on.

You swallowed, recognizing the annoyed tilt of his head and the tut of his tongue. He was getting angry, you realize, and it ran a series of fearful trembles down your body.

You don't make an attempt to step away when he takes another step closer. Nor do you react (other than a full body shiver) when his fingers graze the back of your neck, pulling down the hood that you tried concealing your face with. You watch the way his razor-blue eyes squint as they examine your face for any other wounds or bruises.

"I've seen you coming in and out these past nights," Rick says, proving your theory right. Of course he knew. He always knows. "Care to tell me why?" He adds.

You hesitate, fear crawling into your throat and lodging a lump to prevent you from speaking. You never had gotten in trouble with him before, but you knew how strict he was-- how terrifying he could be. You've seen it before. You vividly remember the way he held up that red machete and brought it down to slice the throat of the man who had trapped you, staining the same jacket he wore now with his blood. If you close your eyes, you can see the fury-- something kin to primal rage in the expression he made. The animalistic breaths he took as he wiped the blade clean, throwing the tissue he used to clean it onto the man and leaving him there to choke on his blood.

As morbid as it was, you couldn't stop thinking about it. The nod he gave to you afterward as if saying "You're okay now." The graze of his hand in yours as he leads you away from the scene. Your fascination for the man only grew since. Despite him being years older, he never seemed to completely leave your conscious. Always lingering inside your mind when you tried to fall asleep, or appearing in your dreams which had you waking up with your body feeling hot and the place beneath your navel feeling warm and tingly.

Maybe... you wanted to get caught just to see what he would do.

"I-" You choke. The moment you spoke his eyes snapped up to yours, his unforgiving gaze boring into you.

You were so aware of the heavy touch of his hand at your nape, unmoving. It felt like you were a rabbit in the jaws of a wolf, reluctant to let you go. His body moved in front of you in such a way that it felt suffocating, his broad chest limiting your view.

"I was hunting," You confess, telling the first truth of the night.

"And tonight too?" He asks, feeling satisfied with your answer.

You nod, your lips pinching together. You began feeling the blood rise to your cheeks, the realization finally hitting you at how close he was. You could almost touch his chest with yours if only you moved an inch or so forward.

"Now answer me again," He says in a quieter tone, no more than a whisper. His face leaned down to yours, his nose barely grazing the lobe of your ear. His breath was warm against your skin, a contrast from the chilled air. "Where did you get the cut?"

You may have blushed from the deep growl of his voice and the proximity of his face to yours if it weren't for the circumstances, but right now all you felt was your blood turn cold and the hairs on your arms stand.

He knew you were lying. You were out of options-- out of excuses. But, despite the tremble of fear you felt, your pride was strong.

"I already told you," You snap back, trying your hardest to conceal your fear and perhaps excitement as well. "I. Tripped."

You felt a blow of air from Rick's nostrils, another irate tut spilling from his lips. He pulls away from your face to reveal the deep frown he wore. His brows furrowed, making his deep-set eyes look frighteningly dark. The grip on your nape tightens to the point of near discomfort but it unleashes another shiver from you along with a breathy moan of surprise.

Suddenly, he has you turned around, your back flat against his chest and his hand tight at your throat. His free hand slithers down to your hip and presses an unforgiving finger on the bruise on your thigh, causing you to cry out loudly and arch your back, instinctively pushing your bottom against him in an attempt to free yourself.

Rick watches you squirm momentarily, your cries cut short by the pressure he applied to your throat. A sick sense of satisfaction rules through his body when looking at your vulnerable state. Your back arched in an attempt to be released, your toes pointed to withstand the pull on your neck, the dusting of tears that hugged your waterline.

Shit, he thought. Calm it, Rick. She's just a girl.

"I'll give you one more chance," Rick says, feeling sorry for you. His thoughts were running wild, the fantasies he rewatched over and over in his head were becoming a reality. But his consciousness caught up to him, knowing if he continued scolding you in this matter, it would lead to something he couldn't take back. He had to give you an opportunity to escape.

The pressure on your throat eased, but the prodding at your hip never relented. You shot a hand down to Rick's forearm, trying to pull his hand off your bruise, but it felt like trying to pull the tight jaws of a dog away from its bone. It was useless and dangerous.

Rick was unbothered by the attempt. He watched as you licked your lips, your breaths coming in short puffs. He leaned his head forward, once again next to your ear. You turned your head, awkwardly straining your neck to look up at him.

He feels his heart lurch when you expose the devious glint in your eye to him, your teeth peeking through your curled lips in a half smile. Your face was so close to his which had him frozen. He couldn't take his eyes off the way your tongue darted out to lick at the beads of blood that trickled from your wound into your mouth. If he wasn't imagining things, he could almost say that your gaze turned lustful.

"No," You mouth,

He's stunned. It seemed like reality had caught up to him in that moment. The position he'd manhandled you in, the rough touches along your young supple skin, the words of intimidation he whispered in your ear-- to anyone else, this would've looked more sensual than just a scolding.

It takes him several seconds to process what you said.

"No?" Rick scoffs, looking down at you incredulously, his eyes glancing down to your chest where he can clearly see your exposed cleavage. He swallows, instantly glancing back up to your unmoving gaze.

"What will you do if I don't tell you? You gonna' put me over your knee and spank me?" You half scoff, using that same cold-- almost monotone voice you use when talking. Rick was unsure whether this was an attempt of seduction, or you were dead serious and were trying to get a rise out of him as you often had. It wasn't until you boldly pushed your hips back again, but this time intentionally grinding your bottom over his crotch that he finally figured out your intention.

Irritation fell upon him again when he saw your smug look. He wanted the tears back at your waterline, desperate to hear those soft gasps he had never heard before from you. He wanted to render you speechless until nothing but incoherent mumbles spilled from those pretty lips of yours.

He wanted to tame you, break you down into an obedient pretty thing.

Rick said nothing as he stared at you with the same expression he had on before, but this time with widened eyes. It had you nervous, thinking you overstepped a boundary (which you one hundred percent had) but when his hand slithered up your clavicle, caressing your jugular and up to your jaw, gripping it tightly in one hand, your questions left. There was a look in his eye you couldn't quite place. Something between desire, and lust-- but also something sadistic and predatory. It had you almost wanting to shrink away, coward, and apologize to the man. But he didn't give you the option.

"Do you know what you're asking?" Rick says, no lilt or pause in his tone. His stare was intense, his touch even more so.

The question struck a string of both fear and arousal inside you. The familiar feeling beneath your navel began bubbling with warmth. A feeling you know far too well during late nights alone with nothing but your thoughts of Rick. Imagining how the scratch of his beard would feel between your legs. If those piercing eyes of his would look up at you when tasting you, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him. Maybe he would go fast, eager to taste all of you, or maybe he would be slow and steady, sadistic in his actions where he keeps putting off your orgasm until you weep and beg.

"Why don't you show me what I'm asking for?" You reply with a small nibble to your lip that doesn't go unnoticed by Rick.

Rick feels his breaths become shallower and arousal beginning to tent his jeans. He could hardly believe that this wasn't a dream. You were in front of him, writhing and gasping impatiently for him, practically asking him to take you. But his doubts begin to come back, chanting to him,

She's nearly half your age, dickhead.

But all doubts were wiped away when you shyly nudged his chest with your head, your hand running up his forearm and up to his bicep where you squeezed it, quietly admiring the muscle there. His attention is brought back to your youthful face, your eyes full of desire.

"Please?" You ask in a meek voice, your lips darting to wet your inviting lips.

And just like that, his resolve vanished.

He spins you around, his touch finally relenting from your bruise. His hand is back on your throat, forcing your face to look up at him. You notice the quick short pants he releases from his lips, his dilated pupils eating up most of the blue in his irises. Again, fear prods you. He stares at you for a second longer, analyzing your face for any sign of regret, but there is none.

He takes you firmly by the hip, dragging you forward with a shove to your lower back.

"Move," He commands coldly, sending another wave of fear and excitement down your spine.

Rick continues guiding you with a firm hand placed on the dimples of your back, eventually leading you to his house where he makes you climb the steps to his door.

Once he swiftly brings you inside, you're shoved cruelly onto the couch. You lose your balance and fall onto the pillowy surface, turning around with wide eyes and watching him shimmy off his jacket, gently hanging it up on the coat rack, unlike the way he had just manhandled you. He's staring you down as if you had just wronged him, rolling up his sleeves to rest at his elbows and revealing the ripples of muscle in his forearms.

He then approaches you, his boots loudly thudding onto the wood panel floors.

"You're a fucking pain in my ass, you know that?" He grunts, a loose smile playing on his lips. It wasn't a kind smile by any means, it was almost patronizing-- unsettling.

You didn't know how to answer, so you kept your mouth shut. Your feet were tucked beneath your bottom, staring up at him like prey.

That's what you felt like. Prey. You've never felt anything like this before-- normally you had the upper hand over people, very rarely feeling fearful or intimidated by them. But Rick had you in a chokehold, and it scared you.

One leg kneels on the couch cushion next to you. You felt the dip of his weight and the manly smell of what you imagine is his laundry detergent and some kind of musky cologne waft to your nose. He was leaning over you now, the thick build of his body clouding the rest of your vision. One hand found purchase on the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh covered by your jeans, the warmth of his palms seeping through the thick fabric.

"Turn around," He demands,

You look up at him defiantly, feeling bold.

"If I don't?" You say,

He cocks an eyebrow, and in one fluid motion, he spins you around himself. His fingers tangle in your hair, pressing your face down into a pillow rather harshly. He loops an arm around your waist, propping you up so you rest your weight on your knees. He's rough, but not to the point of pain or discomfort. He's simply showing you that he can do whatever he wishes without your approval.

You feel his narrow hips push against your bottom as he presses the weight of his body onto your back, pushing you further into the couch and nearly knocking the breath out of your lungs. You squirm weakly beneath his hold, but he doesn't relent and you hear a soft, demeaning chuckle from behind you. The hand that is looped around your waist rests at your stomach, then slowly trails down over your pelvis, then down to your core. Your body reacts instantly, jutting your hips back like a horny animal trying to present itself to its mate.

"Naughty girl," He whispers into your ear, "Who knew you would be so easy to pin down like this? You're not even fighting it."

"That's not--"

"Shut up." Rick says insultingly, rendering you silent instantly.

One hand slips off your jacket, throwing it carelessly on the floor. Then he moves to the simple black tank beneath it, nearly ripping it off your body. He keeps one hand at the back of your head, keeping your face down and your ass propped up for him-- an easy position for him to admire and access all of you.

Then goes your jeans, tearing every article of clothing off of you other than your undergarments-- keeping some of your dignity still intact.

You felt humiliated in this position. Your arse up like a bitch in heat, Rick's heavy weight immobilizing you, his harsh commands that you actually listened to. You felt ridiculous, but you couldn't ignore the blossoming heat that came to life between your legs. You felt betrayed by your body, the way your pussy responded to his roughness, clenching around nothing as it anticipated him. No matter how much you wanted to fight it, wanted to be somewhat stubborn, your body just wouldn't comply. Your body knew its position, and that was beneath the man above you with your pussy on display just for him, your brain just didn't want to accept that fact yet.

You felt Rick cup your cunt from behind, and you couldn't help the way you thrust your ass against it. You heard another dark laugh at your blatant neediness. He rubbed back and forth at a tantalizing pace, feeling the wetness seep through your clothed cunt and moistening his hand. He was shocked at how easily you submitted before him. Never did he imagine you would rut your hips against him, expose your pussy so willingly to his eyes. You tried to maintain your stubborn façade, but the moment he laid his hand on your cunt, you had melted into a puddle of jelly, your mouth spilling open and your body falling limp.

That's right, He thinks callously, Take it like a good girl.

"You like that, don't you?" He asks in that same patronizing tone. It angers you, but the anger is quickly replaced with pleasure, nearly melting your mind into goo. His big hand, cupping your cunt as if he owned it-- owned you.

You don't answer him, and instead, you try to glare at him from behind. But it backfired once you locked eyes with him. His handsome face looked down at you, wearing the same deep frown of his. If you didn't trust the man as you did, you would be terrified just from his scary presence and the easy way he manipulated your body to spread yourself for him.

"Not answering me, still?" He scoffs, his glare deepening.

When you still don't answer, he responds by ditching his hand from your drenched pussy, making you gasp mournfully. Instead, he places both hands on the insides of your thighs, spreading your legs as far as they could go. You remained in the arched position you were in, a bit scared of what he would do if you disobeyed his silent command.

You feel the tickle of his fingers skim against your skin as he pulls down your panties, leaving your glistening pussy nowhere to hide. You bury your face in humiliation, feeling the blood rush to your head. When you don't think it could get much worse, Rick pulls apart your cheeks, exposing your entrance fully.

You couldn't contain the mortified squeal that escaped your lips. Rick had left you nowhere to hide, nothing to conceal your most sensitive parts with. You feel the cool air hit your vulva, and the wetness of your arousal trickle down your thighs. You didn't dare to move as Rick looked at all of you, frozen as you were afraid of what he might do next, frozen in the most vulgar position-- the curve of your ass, the arch in your back-- it was utterly shameless.

"Shit," Rick curses under his breath. He could only find one word that he could describe you, and even that didn't seem to justify what he saw. You were breathtaking-- literally, as he felt his breath be kicked from his lungs as he saw all of you.

"Look at you," Rick coos as he swipes his middle finger along your slit, passing by your clit that had you jumping from the sudden sharp pleasure. You couldn't see it from the way you buried your eyes in your arms, but he brought his finger to his lip, sampling you. "What a sloppy cunt. I barely touch you and this is how you respond?" He mocks, squeezing the softness of your thighs and earning a whimper in response.

"No--"

You're cut off by a high-pitched squeal that shatters past your lips. You felt a sudden wet prod at your cunt as well as the scratchy feeling of Rick's beard tickling the back of your thighs.

You nearly sobbed. His flattened tongue languidly dragged from your clit, all the way to your hole where he dipped the tip of his tongue inside you, slurping and massaging your walls. A deep, almost animalistic groan vibrated against you as Rick tasted you.

You dug your face into your arms as you cried out again. Your legs shook, your walls desperately clenching around Rick's tongue. Your head fogged with pleasure as you felt a coil of pleasure begin to spin inside your stomach. The way his long fingers pulled your sensitive flesh apart, his tongue breaching your walls, his groans that made you feel weak in the legs. It was overwhelming.

He propped your hips higher, nearly lifting your knees off of the couch as he brought his lips down to suction your clit. He let one hand reach over to grab at your hair once more, tugging your head back and away from your arms roughly.

"Don't hide your voice," He says lowly against your cunt, the scratch of his beard adding more ripples of pleasure as he moved his jaw to speak.

It felt so good and you lost any thought of trying to retaliate, eager for more of his wet tongue and soft lips wringing pleasure from your needy cunt. So you obeyed him, and once he let go of your hair, you stayed put in the position he left you in. Once he delved back into your pussy, you couldn't control your moans any longer, deliriously chanting praises and choking out his name, no longer hidden by the couch.

"No" You scream. "-- Rick!"

You didn't even know what you were saying anymore, your brain losing the ability to form coherent words. It was too much. The coil quickly began to tighten inside you the more his sharp nose nudged against your sensitive clit. The way he would move from sucking your clit with his plush lips to greedily licking inside, creating loud obscene noises from your pussy. Humiliation washed over you once again from the vulgarness of your body, responding so desperately and greeting his mouth so welcomingly.

You then feel a long finger sink inside you, gently rubbing in a 'come hither' motion against your plush walls and pressing into that sensitive spot inside you. Your body leaps forward, almost like trying to escape the intense pleasure, but Rick quickly catches you, pulling your body back into him.

"You ain't running, girl." Rick teases against your folds, the vibration of each syllable sending ripples of pleasure down your spine. He laps at your soaked cunt until you're trembling, your walls pulsating in tell-tale signs of your approaching orgasm.

"Rick, Please, Rick," You sobbed loudly, your hand reaching behind you to grip his hair, desperate for something to hold onto. He ignores your pleas and continues to finger you, pulling drawn-out cries of pleasure from your mouth. It isn't until he feels the rapid pulses of your walls, indicating your near-release, that he pulls away entirely. He then flips you around, placing a leg on either side of your hips to trap you beneath him.

You cry as your orgasm is denied, and when you see the smug face above you-- looking irritatingly handsome, you scowl.

You place your hands on his chest, nudging him weakly away from you. Even after you pleaded for more of him--after he brought you to near brink of ecstasy, you were pushing him away stubbornly. So desperate to keep the remainder of your dignity. Your face was scrunched in faux anger, the telltale signs of tears at your lashes. You were panting hard and your legs had pressed themselves together in an attempt to alleviate some of the ache inside you. Even your fingers were digging into his shirt as if telling him not to go.

He doesn't budge at your feeble attempt to push him away. He has his face above yours, looking down at you with a tinge of pride in his cold eyes. His hands caress your sides lightly, a sinister smirk appearing once he sees the way you squirm away from the ticklish sensation.

"Asshole.." You whisper, but your eyes betray you once you look down wontedly at his crotch, looking at the visible bulge.

"Pretty girl," He reflects smoothly, shutting you up with a surprisingly gentle kiss on the lips.

You feel your face flush with heat when he kisses you, the words he spoke to you ringing in your mind, immediately erasing any lingering anger toward him.

Pretty girl.

You moan as you feel your body melt into his touch. You make fists in his shirt, now pulling him closer rather than pushing him away. His beard scratches against your chin, his hand slithering behind your head and holding you in place as he forces his tongue inside you. You feel overwhelmed with how passionately he kisses you, smothered by his masculine scent that had your brain hardwired into thinking of him each time you smelt anything that even resembled it. His hips were heavy on your own, his body trapping you. His unoccupied hand was rubbing up and down your waist, loving the way he felt the curvaceous dip each time he passed your midsection.

You don't know how long the kiss went on, only breaking apart to breathe for a split second before being attacked again by Rick's lips and tongue. You felt as if he was injecting some kind of poison into your system with every swirl and caress of his tongue, clouding your brain with pleasure and erasing every thought aside from him.

Eventually, Rick pulls away with heavy pants, looking at you with half-lidded eyes. You noticed the faint blush on his cheeks and the plumpness of his lips now swollen and red from the kiss. His eyes hardened with lust.

He then straightens himself, sitting upward on his knees as he inches his body up yours until his hips are level with your chest. You watch as he undoes his belt with a snap above you, leaving it still hooked through his jeans as he then undoes his pant zipper, fishing his cock out from his briefs.

You're already licking your lips, eyes strained forward as you admire the long length so close to your face.

He was slowly stroking himself, paying close attention to the tip as he pulled back his foreskin to reveal the sheen of precum atop it. He was girthy more than he was long which had you imagining how amazingly he would stretch your walls to accommodate for his size. His tip looked flushed and desperate, eager for any kind of stimulation. Your eyes left his cock reluctantly and looked at the man above you, and you couldn't help but admire how pretty he looked, his brows scrunched in pleasure and his bottom lip captured between his teeth. The sight alone had your core throbbing.

Gently, he guided your head toward him, canting his hips forward. The wet tip grazed the corner of your mouth, and you stuck out your tongue just enough to lick away the dribble of precum from the head.

"You wanna suck it?" He hums, his hand leaving his cock and rubbing a thumb across your lips. His actions seemed gentler, his expression softening as his eyes dart over the planes of your face, admiring every freckle and beauty mark on you. His other hand was scratching at your scalp, pushing the hair away from your face.

You don't answer which earns a light scoff from the man, but you don't miss the almost invisible tilt of the corner of his lip, then as if you had switched the channels on a radio, his gentleness was gone. He breaches your lips forcefully with the head of his cock which forces you to open your mouth to fit his girth comfortably on your tongue. You gag at the intrusion but quickly adapt to the heavy weight on your tongue. Now with the view of his face staring down at you so intensely, it had you shifting restlessly beneath him, unable to escape his predacious eyes no matter what you did.

He didn't give you much time to process the length and girth of his cock inside your mouth, and he begins to shallowly thrust, barely grazing your uvula. His jaw drops into an 'o' shape as he finds purchase in your hair, forcing you still in front of him and using your mouth for his pleasure. He watches sadistically as you struggle, your one eye closed as you do your best to massage your tongue alongside his thrusts.

"Just like that," Rick coos, bringing his hips closer to your face, forcing you to accept more of his length.

You try your best to accept him all at the angle you are in, proudly taking nearly all of his length, his balls resting at your chin, but you gag when he starts sliding down your throat, which has the man above you moan and tilt his head back. Your body squirms and tears begin to fog your vision, your breaths becoming limited. Rick stalls for a moment, running his fingers across your jawline adoringly and watching as you squirm pathetically beneath him with his cock slid down your throat. Then, he removes himself, his cock bouncing after being released from your mouth. He watches as you desperately gasp for air, nearly choking on your own spit. But you surprise him when you dive forward again and take him between your lips after you regain oxygen.

"Greedy girl," Rick scoffs, wiping a stray tear from your cheek. He allows you to suck him at your own pace now, satisfied with the way you flick your tongue beneath his foreskin and the way you purse your lips around his tip.

You moan at the praise he gives you as you rub the tip of his cock along the velvety walls of your cheeks, creating a vulgar bulge from the outside.

Spurred on by the open-mouthed moan he releases at the sight of you, you run your hands under his shirt, loosened from his pants being undone. You half expected to have him scoff at you and tear your hands away, but he doesn't. He simply looks down at you, inspecting your every move. You feel the hardness of his abdomen flex in response to your touch, and his breaths become louder-- almost sighs. You trail your hands up and rest them on his chest, admiring the way his chest heaves with each breath. You notice the content hum drawl out from his throat from your touch.

"So good for me, so obedient." He praises, but that patronizing tone that you expected to hear from him wasn't there. Instead, you're surprised to feel warm with pleasure at his words, the sudden urge to please him more tugging at your brain.

You suction your lips tighter, bringing a hand to the untouched length of his cock and you match it to the speed of your mouth. You keep a hand on his body, trailing up his shoulders and admiring the strength he held there too. As you felt along his body you noticed raised lesions indicating the scars hidden behind his clothes, and you vaguely imagined the people he killed in order to stamp those reminders onto his flesh.

The thought alone had you moaning around his cock. The deadliest man you've ever met was above you, watching your every move like a hawk even as pleasure contorts his features and soft moans escape his parted lips. The proof of his murders was plain as day on his body-- in his eyes and in his walk, and yet somehow you feel the urge to submit to him entirely and let him do anything he pleases with you.

The remainder of the fight in your body begins to leave and you feel yourself submit to the man before you as the fact that he could literally do anything he wanted to you settles into your brain. Rick watches as your eyes become glassy and your moans more frequent around his cock. You lose any smart responses to irritate the man, finally succumbing to your fate and allowing the pleasure of the man who is fucking your mouth finally win. You bob your head faster, working your tongue to touch everywhere you could reach.

"Thaaaats it," Rick says, watching as you slowly melt into submission. Your mouth loosened and allowed more of his cock to penetrate your mouth. He indulges in a few more deep thrusts into your throat, making you gag and choke until he pulls out and rubs his soaked cock on your cheek, enjoying the fucked out expression on your face. He watches as you nuzzle his cock with your face, pressing dainty kisses along the shaft paired with a shy smile.

Now that was a sight he never thought he would see.

You felt the solid weight of his cock on your face, shiny with your spit as he slowly canted his hips to drag it on your cheek. You could smell the musky scent of his manhood which had you nearly reeling, your patience was wearing thin and the thing you wanted most was for him to be inside you, pounding you to ecstasy while murmuring dirty words into your ear, making you feel helpless in the best way possible.

"Please," You moan, the desperation in your voice so prominent. You were reaching behind your back, finally losing the last bit of clothing and revealing your breasts from their confinements.

Rick shamelessly looks at your chest, running his hands over your ribcage and gently grazing the underside of your tits. You felt his cock twitch against you and you lean down to take him between your lips once more, massaging your tongue beneath his foreskin and humming at the taste of him.

Suddenly, he slides down your body, his cock leaving your lips with a 'pop'. His hands return to your legs, his head dipping down to leave scratchy kisses between your thighs.

"Sit up," He commands suddenly. You obey him albeit being a bit confused. He pulls you close to his body, practically shoving your head into his chest as his hands grab at your ass, lifting you up with incredible strength. You release a surprised squeak that has him snort.

"M'not fuckin you on the couch," He explains as he places a kiss on the junction of your neck and shoulder. The small act of affection was enough for you to melt into his embrace, and so you hook your chin over his shoulder, placing a few kisses of your own on his neck.

He then lifts himself off the couch by his knee, your body tightly secured in his arms. You feel much too aware of the man's hands on the back of your thighs, and the concern that you may be too heavy crosses your mind, but the thought is quickly wiped away when Rick begins walking down the hall to his bedroom, acting as if you didn't have your legs wrapped around your torso-- or your bare pussy rubbing against his clothes and your naked breasts pressed against his hard chest.

He basically throws you once he enters his bedroom, a devious smile quipped on his face. He's on top of you before you have a chance to comprehend what has happened, his lips smashing hard in place of yours and your thighs forcefully spread apart so his narrow hips could slot between them. Once the man is back on top of you, you pull at his collar blindly, your separate hand already making progress at shoving down his pants. He takes your hint and leans back onto his haunches, grabbing his shirt from the bottom and sliding it over his head, tossing it away. He then leans back down to smother kisses along your neck.

"Pants too," You demand, regretting your words the moment they came out of your mouth.

"You think you get a say in this?" He says, incredulous. His hand crawls up to your neck, covering your jugular entirely with the span of his palm. He applies steady pressure to your throat as he levels his face with yours, glaring down at you with a sneer at his lips.

He doesn't give you the chance to apologize, squeezing your throat until you choke when you open your mouth. You feel the intruding prod of his cock at your entrance, making you writhe under him. When he sees the way your eyes widen and tears hug your lashes, he eases his hold, letting you catch your breath.

You break down, your patience wearing thin. All you wanted was for the man to just fuck you.

"M'sorry, please-- Just-- you can do anything to me!" You cry out in frustration, rambling without thought. "I don't know, just-- Pl-Please, -- I need it, Rick--I need you so bad," You sob, the frustration building up until its limit was breached. Your tears now fall down your cheeks, your hands tightly gripped around his wrist to keep his hand from moving away from your throat. It felt like an anchor, a daunting, warm anchor pressing you into the bed. You choke on your sobs as you shift your hips down, trying to get his cock to penetrate you. You were disoriented and frustrated but more than that, you were so fucking needy for the man to just take you and slam his cock inside you, making you scream and cry and beg. You didn't care. You just needed him.

Rick pauses. The way your eyes reddened from your tears-- making the color of your irises become highlighted and sparkly. It had him writhing. Your pretty voice cracked with sobs, chanting his name over and over as if you knew no other names but his. Your nails clawed down his back, trying to push him impossibly closer to you, and your legs were locked around his hips to make sure he couldn't escape.

"Shhhh," He utters, placing a hand on the side of your face which you instantly accept, turning your head to kiss and lick at his palm like a touch-starved dog. You shot a hand to grip his wrist, keeping the hand at your head still as you brought a finger into your mouth, licking and sucking it as if it was his cock.

"I didn't mean to," You beg around his fingers. "M'sorry," You say again but this time with a sniffle. Rick smiles-- the first genuine smile you'd seen today. It was warm and thoughtful, enhancing the handsome crowfeet around his eyes. You had stopped sucking his fingers just to admire it as you felt a fuzzy sensation rise to your chest, alongside the deep ache of your throbbing core.

"It's okay, pretty girl," Rick says, leaning down to kiss your cheeks. He notices the way your body reacted to the name he had given you, the moan that vibrated around his fingers, and the flutter of your lashes gazing up at him. You were looking at him so devotedly, your eyes filled to the brim with trust and affection, and most of all, lust. He knew that when you said he could do anything to you, you truly meant it.

He teasingly rubs his cock up and down your slit, grazing your clit as he drenches himself with your wetness. He reaches down to kiss you, catching your glossy lips in a gentle rhythm, unlike the rough and passionate ones from before. He feels warmth ooze into his brain as if you had him under a spell, melting away any remaining thoughts or worries and forcing all of you to cloud his conscience.

Then gently, he breaches your hole, his attention fixed on the way your jaw drops.

He could feel the way your soft walls fluttered around his cock, adjusting to his girth. Your face had scrunched up in discomfort, but you were distracted when he placed a soft kiss on your brow, his gaze fond.

"So good for me," Rick says, licking at your earlobe and sinking his cock further into you and sighing in pleasure as he bottoms out, his balls against your ass. "Look at you, taking me so well. Does it hurt?"

You shake your head, cupping his face in your hands. You were suddenly hyper-aware of his handsome features. The speckling of black and grey littered across his beard and hair, reminding you that he was much older than you were. How cute the curls on his forehead grazed his furrowed brows, a droplet of sweat running down right beside it. Those ever-so-intimidating eyes were staring at you with such affection that it was overwhelming, almost making you forget the fact that this was meant to be some kind of punishment. But the way he held you so possessively almost had you thinking that there was more than just lust between the two of you.

Rick raises his brow, giving you a teasing look as you forget to answer his question. "Not gonna use your words?" He says without venom in his voice, tightening his grip around your neck as a reminder of what he is capable of doing to you.

He breaks you away from your deep thoughts, and you don't think before speaking, your eyes still trained on the attractive man before you,

"You're so handsome," You say, holding his cheeks firmly as you lean in to kiss him.

Rick raises his brows, flushing at your words as he returns your kiss. He wasn't expecting such a cute response from you, but at least this time you answered him, albeit it not remotely relating to the question he asked. Still, he couldn't deny the race of his heart as you kissed him with your hands cupped around his cheeks, his cock buried deep inside your pulsating walls, and the word 'handsome' ringing in his head. He felt like a schoolboy all over again.

He smiled in the kiss. Maybe you'll never learn to answer his questions properly.

"Need you," You moan after breaking the kiss, your lips grazing his. "Need you so bad,"

"Oh, you'll get it, sweet girl. Don't have'ta worry." Rick teases as he licks your ear. He wanted to push you to your very limits, make your voice raw with pleads. He couldn't deny that he wasn't being mean to you, torturing the sweet teary-eyed girl beneath him-- but he loved it. He loved watching you become glassy-eyed with want, and your insults turning to pleads. It was the best feeling ever, to turn you into a babbling mess of moans and cries.

He pulls out, rubbing his cock onto your clit, slapping it lewdly, watching as you arch your back and drape a forearm over your eyes.

"C'mon!" You sob, "Please just fuck me, Rick! I can't-- I can't take anymore. I've been good!" You slap at his chest angrily, trying to stifle your cries of frustration and hide the fact that you were crying. You weren't looking at him, too embarrassed of yourself.

Rick finally relents and shoves his cock in one go inside you. He peels away your arm to see that face he longed for.

Your mouth falls as he thrusts into you quickly, your hands flying to the pair that are locked on your throat, and your tears finally spill like a waterfall.

Rick's heart nearly leaps from his chest. Your eyes are half closed, your lashes dripping with the residue of your tears, and your eyes are shot red. When he squeezes your throat tighter, strangled cries croak out and your nails drag at his skin, leaving a beautiful sting in their wake. He's thrusting remorsefully, sending your body bouncing back and forth with every pound to your soaked pussy, your tits recoiling up and down in a memorizing tempo.

Each time he slams his cock inside you, another pair of tears trickle down your beautiful rosy cheeks and into your open mouth. He can't help but kiss you, tasting your tears and swallowing your cries.

"This what'ya want? To be fucked like a whore?" He asks, his lips lingering atop yours as he speaks over the loud slapping of skin to skin.

"No-" You manage to spit out over his tight hold on your throat.

"Then what's this? Your walls are eating me up so well, you lyin' to me, girl?"

He sends you reeling forward with a slap to the pussy. Reflexively, you push a hand against his chest to try and slow him down, but he doesn't budge, rather, he pushes more weight atop of you, crushing you with his naked body. You sob, shaking your head.

"You've got such pretty cries," He coos and finally lets free of your neck, allowing you the freedom of deep breaths. You're lightheaded when he releases you, unable to even process his words. "Your cries are just for me, hm?"

"Only you--" You say before getting cut off by a moan once Rick's fingers find your clit. You dizzily wrap your arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly to your chest as pleasure numbs your brain. "Just you, it's always been just you," You confess deliriously.

Rick hums, satisfied with your answer. He feels his orgasm approaching rapidly, so he begins to rub tight circles on your clit which has you responding by clenching tightly onto his cock. His moans grow louder, more like the grunts of a wild animal and it has you spiraling toward your release.

"That's right. You're mine." He says, then buries his face between your tits.

You hug his head, burying your nose into his curls, breathing him in as you feel the cord inside you become pulled taught. Your hands find his neck and shoulders, enjoying the way his muscles ripple with every thrust. Once again, you're reminded of how powerful this man really is, and it has you tumbling over the edge.

"Yes, Yes! Rick--" You babble, arching your back as you feel the waves of pleasure swamp your body. Your pussy clenches like a vice, feeling every vein and ridge of Rick's cock pummeling inside you, and like a string that's been cut, your orgasm washes over you.

Your cries go silent as ecstasy clouds your mind, blossoming heat tingling in your navel and rising to your mind. Rick fucks you through your orgasm, purposely holding off his own to watch the way your eyes roll back to your head and your trembling body tenses. It isn't until you cry from overstimulation and the trembles in your body turn to full-body shudders, that he pulls out, bringing his cock to your breasts and jerking himself until he comes with a loud moan, painting your chest with milky white stripes. You watch lazily as you feel the never-ending warm spurts of come drench your tits, memorized by the expression Rick makes. His mouth is agape, his abdomen flexing with each wave of pleasure, and his moans become strained as he works himself to the end of his orgasm.

It was the hottest thing you'd ever seen.

After his balls are emptied, he collapses beside you, pulling you in tight against his body, undeterred by the mess he made on your chest. He peppers kisses along your jaw and shoulders,

"You did so well, pretty girl," He says as he caresses your leg-- over the bruise you had obtained. His palm smooths over it, almost as if quietly apologizing for earlier. He then kisses away the tears littered across your cheeks, uttering more praises with every peck.

You're still regaining your breath and your cunt pulsates from the aftermath of your orgasm, but you feel a sweet fuzzy feeling envelop your chest, and you turn your head to meet Rick's lips, melting into his embrace and the warmth of his kiss. The two of you stay like that for several moments, simply panting and kissing each other in each other's embrace.

"Was I too rough?" Rick says momentarily, glancing at the red, irritated marks left by his hands. He suddenly looks concerned, planting small kisses across your jugular.

"No," You say with a small smirk. Only now had you properly replied to a question of his. He notices your smirk and can't help but smile himself, pushing your face back into his chest as he scoffs. Again, some time passes, and Rick speaks up again, only this time, hesitantly.

"I'd like it if this wasn't just a fling," He says, searching your eyes for any flicker of rejection. "I really do like you, even if you are a pain in my ass." He adds with a hint of a smile.

You roll your eyes in faux irritation.

"I've been yours since the beginning," You say cupping his cheeks and placing a featherlight kiss on his brow. Rick looks at you with sparkling eyes, the biggest smile you've ever seen him wear is plastered on his face. He holds you tight against him by your waist, taking your lips roughly in a passionate kiss.

"That's what I like to hear." He says, hugging you into his warm chest.

A/N: Comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated!

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