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priestessame · 6 months

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Jing Yuan☆

♡ "A snowball's chance in hell" ♡

Warnings: This is a dark fic. Jing Yuan is a manipulative shit. Power dynamic, dub con, mind break, somno, drug use, gaslighting, degradation, skull fucking, penetrative sex, marking, dirty talk, cum play.

•°*”˜ AFAB female sub! reader

Minors you have no business here pls leave thankyou.

•°*”˜ Summary: The loufu general was a kind man. For the most part. (This man literally makes me so feral I'm sorry for everything that exists under the cut.

The general smiled at you differently.

When you mentioned that to your colleagues, they laughed so hard that one snorted out the energy drink from his nose. You felt your face burn with embarrassment as they doubled over, slapping their knees. Your first thought was that you wouldn't ever mention it to anyone else again. And your next thought was to tell yourself that you were indeed overthinking it.

It was stupid of you to think that way.

You were probably just projecting your own anxiety on his mannerisms. Thinking there was something wrong with his smile was probably because you were nervous to begin with. Right? Why would someone like the general even notice you out of all the new recruits?

Well, he hadn't even seen you before you had actually bumped into him in the hallway, the impact making you fall back on your behind, that he actually saw you.

"s-sorry general." you had stuttered out, half mortified and half starstruck at the sudden encounter. For you, it was a situation out of some romance novel. Wasn't this the moment that the clumsy heroine bumped into the male lead sending papers scattering across the floor. The first time he actually notices her is the moment that sparks the tumultuous romance. An overdone trope but its prospect still made you feel butterflies.

"Are you alright?" he chuckled,

In your head, you had expected to see him the way you had seen him walk along the harbor, with a polite gait and a kind smile tracing his lips. His low chuckles ringing in the late afternoon sun as he allowed himself a glass of wine or more. Everyone there worshipped him, in a place like that how could you see that man as anything less than glorious? You had looked up hoping to see the same image. But that's when he gave you that smile.

Gaunt across his handsome face, it was exactly like the one he gave others, yet there was something morbidly wrong with it. It had given you chills you had never felt like someone had dragged an ice-cold dagger along your back.

"You should be more careful, cadet." He hummed, the skin around his eyes wrinkling as he gave you a departing nod.

The general did smile at you differently.

Most of the time you couldn't tell what it was exactly, but it was like he was masking something sinister underneath. It made you tip-toe around him since then, forever looking over your shoulder waiting for that darkness to actually catch up to you.

Until then, Jing Yuan never thought of himself to be that kind of a man. Someone sick who took a masochistic pleasure in knowing how much power he held over you. In the beginning, he tried feeling guilty about it, for even letting his sick thoughts about you plague him for that long. Yet the way his cock had twitched when you looked up at him, begged to differ.

The way your doe eyes were full of guilt, just for bumping into him. In that moment he had realized the unsurmountable pedestal you had placed him on. You just made it more and more difficult for him to resist the urge.

As the general, it wasn't hard to make sure you weren't sent out on patrol often. It was even easier to get you to agree with what your beloved general was saying. Of course, you would abide by his orders.

In the beginning, he tried to be more restrained. Choosing and picking when and where he could get to you. His little work trip had provided him the perfect opportunity.

You had been so vigilant the entire time. Running around to cater to every need of his dutifully. Not once interjecting his work. Such devotion truly deserved his attention.

It had made it all the more easy to slip you something. With all the trust you had in him, you would have downed it with a single command. But he fed it to you with expensive food and wine, after all he didn't want to scare you away.

As selfish as he wanted to be, he didn't really fuck you. Jing Yuan wanted you to be awake for that, watch your eyes widen as he stretched you out for the first time. To hear your sweet whimpers, bottled them up and down it like old wine.

But still, the scene before him had been nothing short of divine. The flushed face and the fluttering eyes, even when you were drugged out of your mind you still worshipped him. How could he not find devotion like that endearing?

He had taken his time to peel the layers off of you. Teeth grazing your skin, careful not to leave any marks. You really were his perfect doll, letting him rub his sensitive cock over your folds. He had fucked your thighs, eyes pinned on your pretty cunt as he spilled out on your stomach. He knew there and then that the next time had to be inside you.

When you actually did wake up, you were just apologetic. Embarrassed that you had fallen asleep on your general when you were supposed to be on duty. He was mostly amused at how quickly you pushed away the question he asked you about last night. It was fun to see your eyebrows knit as you tried to remember the faint details. The slightly confused glaze in your eyes as you realized how unnatural your memory loss was.

Jing Yuan had just smiled at you kindly, "You were just tired from working so hard." he said. And it had all just worked that perfectly.

But with the work at the Xianzhou increasing, his very precious trips had to be cut down. And now, he had noticed another problem.

The general of the Loufu knights leaned heavily against the window, his eyes following your frame skipping across the street to deliver the daily report. And just like every day, that asshole stopped you again. His anger flared at how badly he wanted to mangle up that stupid knight. The boy followed you like a shadow the moment you stepped outside the confines of the office, his slender eyes perched on your smallest gestures. Jing yuan couldn't tell what was more pathetic, how placidly obvious that man's crush on you was or how oblivious you were to it.

It was forever the same routine, he would watch you cross the street, and then get stopped by that idiot. The knight would scratch the back of his neck awkwardly, fighting to keep the blush off his face as he spoke to you.

Jing Yuan's eyes would be pinned on that reaction, watching it like a hawk from the window of his office. His chest rising and falling in silent anger as he wondered what lethargic conversation he was striking with you. You were too polite to brush off his advances, always so patient with even the most undeserving.

Jing Yuan spun away from his window, it was getting too much now, he had to claim you, split you open on his cock until you couldn't think of anyone but him. His cock throbbed at the thought of you pinned under him, babbling out sweet words of gratitude as he pounded into you. He knew you'd love it, he'd make sure of that. And if couldn't whisk you away, he'd just have to do it right here.

The first opportunity presented itself at once. It was surprising how he didn't even have to initiate anything.

You looked mortified at your actions, wide eyes so apologetic as they gauged the cracked vial of perfume on his desk. The perfume doused the general's clothes, the way it had splintered on the table, making the liquid run down the edge staining his trousers.

"Didn't I tell you to be vigilant about this?" He sighed, over your teary apologies.

You hung your head, knowing that it was probably something rare and important that you had broken.

The ends of Jing Yuan's lips quirked in a smile,

"Why don't you start by cleaning up the mess you made?"

He said, slipping his shirt off his shoulders. You looked up confused, the general stood before you impatiently, waiting for you to act on what he had commanded. You faltered shifting on your feet, trying to understand what he was actually asking of you. Your eyes trailed down his bare torso, making you press your thighs together. Did he really want you to undress him?

You shook your head, scrambling forward regardless to do as you were told.

Your mouth went dry, fingers trembling as you unbuttoned his trousers, dropping down on your knees to settle between his legs. His hard bulge painfully noticeable, making a print against his pants.

Jing yuan clicked his tongue. He cupped your face, pulling you against him until you could feel the heat radiating off his body. His eyes pinned on your kneeling form, his thumb tracing your puffy lips playfully. There was something blistering about his gaze, almost wicked with the way his eyes sized you up.

"Use your mouth." he commanded.

This time you faltered. Your heart raced in your chest. His words making you squeeze your thighs together.

Jing yuan tilted his head at your words, "Are you refusing to follow my orders knight?"

You could tell this was crossing a line. Something amoral and wrong, a dangerous line he always teased of crossing but never really did. It made your legs go weak.

"General, that's-" you tried, tears prickling at your eyes. You stopped mid sentence, you wanted to pleasure him so badly, to serve your general in every way you could. With everything he had done for you, how could you not?

"n-no general." you mimed back.

Jing Yuan gave you the same smile again, and it finally clicked in your head like puzzle pieces falling together. You had been too gullible about this hadn't you?

Your fingers pulled his cock out from the restraints of the trousers,

You gave the tip a nervous lick, curling your fingers around the thick base. He looked painfully hard, the pinkish tip already oozing precum. You felt an aching warmth pool between your legs, heat rushed to your cheeks as you realised just how much this fucked up situation was getting you off. He gave out a low groan as you rolled your tongue over the head, fingers sliding down to dig into your hair. The sound made your toes curl.

You continued to run your tongue along his length dutifully, suddenly wanting to feel more of him in your mouth. He hissed as you slipped the sensitive head inside your mouth, wrapping your lips around girth and sucking softly, cheeks hallowing as your warm tongue slipped over the slit.

To actually look down at you being so pliant, trying to fit his cock into your mouth hoping to catch just a few words of praise.

The budding tears made your eyelashes stick to your cheek, "Am I doing it right general?" you moaned out, looking up at him as his cock slipped out of your mouth, coated in your saliva.

Jing yuan smiled at you, blood rushing to his cock at the soft tone of your voice. His fingers slid into your hair as a sense of triumph washed over him.

"You're doing so well." Jing yuan replied, his voice gruffier than usual. His grip on your tightened as he slid his cock back into your mouth deeper. You gagged at his sudden action, jerking forward. Your fingers dug into his thighs as he forced you to take his entire length into your mouth. His smell crept over you, flooding through your senses washing over you as you felt his cock hit the back of your throat. He threw his head back as he moaned, his thrusts getting sloppy as he neared his high. The groans bouncing off the walls of his office. You could feel your mind blank out as he rocked you to and fro. Now this was really filthy wasn't it? Allowing him to use your mouth to get off like that. But it was quiet the sight for you too, to look up at the general and see his head thrown back and his half-clad chest heaving. You felt your pussy squeeze at the sight. The unyielding lion so easily coming undone.

You felt his cock twitch in your mouth and he pulled out suddenly, groaning as he came over your clothed chest. Thick roped of cum spilled over your blouse, he leaned down to kiss up your tears, wiping away the dribbling juices with the palm of his hand.

"My," He mused, eyeing your soiled top, "we're gonna have to get rid of that now."

His touch was gentle, as his fingers pulled on the straps of your Armor. It fell apart atonce. The thin fabric doing nothing to hide your hardened nipples. he could practically smell the arousal and the sweat lining the inside of your uniform.

He bit your ear lightly and you squealed, jerking upwards. Your general held you in place, tone arm wrapped around your middle to firmly plant you where you were. Just the way his fingers brushed against your bare skin, made you hold your breath. Your heart hammered in your chest, the smallest of his touch sending heat pooling between your legs.

The nervousness of the situation making you dizzy. "G-general please." you whimpered out, his teasing touches getting a little too much for you. Every part of your body was so sensitive right now, you could feel the warmth of his body as he pressed into your back, the soft bump of his nose as he traced the line of your neck. Even his sweet breath against your ears as he grazed his teeth over your skin playfully. Everything was blistering hot, it was sending your mind spiralling and he hadn't even really touched you yet.

You couldn't tell if you were begging him to let you go or actually touch you more.

A moan escaped your lips as his calloused hands dug into your clothed breasts, his touch was still gentle, Jing yuan sighed, his nose burying in the crook of your neck.

"You do trust your general don't you?" He drawled out, curling his finger over the hem of your shirt, before sliding it up. You yelped as your perky breasts slipped out eagerly.

Jing yuan was nothing short of gleeful to see your breasts, spilling out of your flimsy top. He liked how they fit in his palms, skin around your nipples hardening under his touch.

"Spread your legs wider." he commanded. Your body jumped out of instinct, instantly embarrassed as he chuckled at your reaction.

"I thought I had someone innocent under my command." He hummed out, trailing his fingers down to your clothed pussy.

His fingers traced the wet spot, the ghost of that touch making you squirm under him.

"I didn't know you were such a filthy slut to begin with." You felt yourself tighten around his fingers. Somehow this touch still felt sinful, you felt like you were being toyed with. Held down between his legs as the general's fingers played with your cunt. Being spread out like that in his lap, facing the door, the slightest movement outside his closed door made you jump. He hooked his thumb around the band of your panties, slipping them off. The cold air kissed your folds, sending thrills of anticipation to you core.

"General- w-we shouldn't." you tried again, your words stuck in your throat as his fingers brushed against your bare clit, dragging out deliciously slow circles.

"What's wrong? You don't like it?" he drawled out, his thumb rolled over your clit as you pressed down a moan "You see how nice and swollen this is doll?"

"that means you like it." he said,

His words made your core flutter around his digits. "N-no that's not-" you sobbed out.

He chuckled as you squirmed from the pleasure, "You're sopping wet for your general," he continued, his fingers slipping from the slick that coated your folds. "Are you really this excited to feel your general's fingers inside you?"

Jing Yuan was having too much fun, letting himself get carried away. He couldn't help it he found everything about you pretty, the sloppy folds, dripping from how he touched you before. The swollen clit, just begging for his attention and your little whimpers as he while he whispered nasty things to you. He really was a sick man, he admitted, playing with his subordinate's sweet cunt and liking it so much.

It wasn't soon before you felt the pleasure coil in your stomach, this slow torturous drags of his fingers, pulling your first orgasm out of you.

Jing Yuan groaned as you tightened around his fingers, spasming as your orgasm washed over you. Tears of humiliation pricked your eyes as the high finally wore off, Jing Yuan cupped your face, slick covered fingers digging into your cheek as he kissed up your tears.

You were so sweet under him, just as he has imagined you would be. At this point he had basically pinned you down and had his way with your body. And still you looked up at him pliant and teary eyed, as if you were still begging for her beloved general's approval.

You felt his teeth graze your neck, as the realisation of what had actually happened crashed into you. Your body throbbed with desire, wanting to taste and feel more of him.

"Good job" he murmured against your neck, the intensity of the whole situation making you tremble against him. He wasn't quite done with you yet, but you knew that like a cat only playing with its mouse, he'll just let you go today.

Make you squirm away from him in the lobbies and have you buckle under his gaze until he's had a fill of the fear. And keep you wondering when he would pounce next.

"Please, have a seat." he said, gesturing for you to sit before him.

You gulped as he placed the drink before you, the greenish liquid sitting in the sake cup suspiciously. Jing yuan's amber eyes pinned on your frame, waiting.

"It's just rice wine." he hummed out.

Liar.

It was his patience with things like this that truly chilled you. His awareness of how you didn't really have any other choice but to do as he said. But he just liked to play it as if he was being a gentleman and giving you agency. While the truth was that you could show hesitation, reluctance even, but it didn't matter.

Your fingers dug into your skirts nervously as you did sit down. For wine, the drink smelly sickly sweet. Its faint scent wafting through the room, it already made your head hurt. His eyes crinkled in approval at your action, "I'm sure you'll find the drink agreeable." He said.

Your core throbbed painfully as you watched him coil his slender fingers around the bottle to pour himself another drink. Well, at least he was drinking it himself too.

Reluctantly, you brought it to your lips, taking a nervous sip of the liquid. It was watery, somewhat sweet yet tardy. You missed his smile as you drained your glass, it wasn't bad at all. It almost felt like you had tasted it before.

The taste was familiar.

It was the same taste you had woken up with curling in your mouth every time you went on the travels with him. It was what had made you wake up dazed and confused.

Your stomach dropped as the room spun around you. The pillows felt so soft, sinking like clouds under your weight as the general pushed himself over you.

He pinned you under him as he brushed off the strands of wry hair from your face, whispering sweet things against your skin, as a strange haze made your head feel heavy.

His thumb ran along your puffy lip, pressing his mouth over yours. His tongue felt hot and warm against yours, the sweet-liquid rolling down your chin. The kiss started innocently, only to become messy and hungry, growing more and more needy by the minute. You tried to keep up feverishly, the softest of his touches seemed to sear into your skin, sending your core throbbing. You mewled out under him, a strange haze covering your mind.

You had expected it to be intoxicating, but you hadn't expect it to be an actual aphrodisiac. Your body would already get sensitive under his touch, but this made you feel like your skin was on fire. His kisses trailed down your jaw, fingers sliding under your shirt to feel more of your skin. It wasn't enough. His calloused had reaching down to wipe your chin,

"More~" You pleaded out, begging him to touch and feel you more. Your mind continued to grow foggier,

He cupped your face pulling it forward to kiss your face again, you murmured against his lips as he pulled away, "If I knew you'd be this willing, I would have had you awake the first time."

Jing Yuan tipped the bottle over you, letting the drink pour down your chest. You squirmed as it felt cool against your burning skin. His tongue dragged up along your skin to taste you, pulling at your sensitive skin, fingers reaching up to knead into the softness of your breasts.

Jing yuan chuckled, "Did you wait for this so much doll?" He cooed out, watching as you arched your back rubbing your clothed core against his bulge.

He pressed you forward forcing you to present to him and the drug made you stumble face first into the pillows. "How awful of me." he feigned, lifting up one leg until he pressed your knee into your shoulder. You buried your face in your fingers from the embarrassment. The position just completely exposed you to him.

"General, please." you mewled out,

You yelped as he kissed up your cunt lightly, trying to not get carried away. All he wanted to do was flatten his tongue against your folds and eat you out until you were crying. But his cock was painfully hard in his trousers, and he finally had you where he wanted, it would be too cruel not getting to fuck you.

"Do you really want your general to ruin you like this?" His eyes narrowed, voice tinged with a hostility that was nothing like him. Your breath hollowed as you replied, "Y-yes."

"Beg."

Your legs kicked out impatiently, the need to feel him inside you now starting to hurt, "Please fill me up" you begged him, "Make me your slut General, please- please." you babbled out.

The tip bumped into your entrance and you yelped out his name, he slid his cock up against your folds, digging into your throbbing clit before sliding down towards your entrance again.

His cock collecting your slick as he continued to tease you still. "Such a pretty cunt," He murmured,

His cock fit in you snugly, stretching you out. You moaned out, fingers digging into the pillows as he forced his length inside.

Your mind couldn't comprehend anything other than how good it felt. The slow drag of his cock against your walls, the aphrodisiac heightening your pleasure. In the end he was generous with sex too. He fucked you rough and hard as it went on, pulling you on all fours before him.

His fingers dug into your hair, yanking you back so that you slammed back into him, his cock burying hilt deep with each thrust. You could feel him twitch inside you, moulding you to his shape. You tightened around his girth as he continued to whisper sinful things. Expressing how many times he had decided to take you in your sleep, wanting for you to wake up only to find him buried into you. The pleasure continued to stack up as he continued to fuck you, his own breath hitching as he neared his high.

He jerked you back into him, his voice heavy, "Should I just knock you up doll?" he growled out, "fill you up, so everyone knows you're my cum slut?"

Your heart skipped a beat, the weight of the situation suddenly hitting you, "No- wait general-" you pleaded, but his grip around your waist just tightened. Holding you in place as his hot cum painted your walls.

Your slick mixed with the general's cum dribbled down from your cunt, the burning now a faint throb. You squeezed your thighs together, despite the soreness between your legs you still felt your pussy throb with a needy ache.

His fingers dug into the meat of your ass, pulling you back towards him until his cock pressed into your entrance. He groaned as he bottomed into you again, burying his face in your hair. His pace turned slower, thrusts getting deeper as he fucked his cum back into you, forming a ring around his girth. You couldn't help but curl your toes as his length dragged against your tight walls again, wanting to fill you up once more.

Your legs trembled as you sank into the pillows, giving yourself to him entirely, maybe, if you're nice enough your general would even fuck you to sleep.

What is with me and writing about crazed sex with powerful manipulative men???

ɿ(｡･ɜ･)ɾ Ⓦⓗⓨ ɿ(｡･ɜ･)ɾ

This was supposed to be first of the kinktober series and it ended up being all i could milk out :/

#afab reader #jing yuan #honkai star rail #jingyuan x reader #jingyuan smut #tw cnc mention #tw dubcon

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wri0thesley · 2 years

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guilty jacking off. they know they shouldn’t want you, but you’re just so easy to imagine when they’re feeling particularly lonely in their beds. if it’s just a little fantasising, what’s the harm - right?

cw: guilty jacking off, not sfw, afab reader implied (no pronouns). mentions of power dynamics (kaeya, diluc, thoma). breeding mention (gorou). double dick zhongli, as it should be.

ft (and thank you to the anons who sent their little requests in for who it should be about): kaeya, gorou, ayato, thoma, diluc, zhongli, kazuha

kaeya is certainly not used to feeling guilt about this. though he does harbour various guilts within himself, generally he considers flirting and sex a pleasant distraction - that is, until you walked into his life. lovely, sweet, and untouchable lest he wish to have any of his under-recruits in the knights of favonius think him a pervert taking advantage of his station, kaeya cannot help but watch you when he thinks you’re not looking. cannot help but correct your form when holding a sword, give a little more praise to you than most people hear from him. and it does not help that you look at him with that wide-eyed hero worship so many new knights do hold for their captains; that you smile and gasp and fervently thank him when he takes time for you. it’s hard not to let that hero worship go to his head - to imagine that you’re knelt before him, instead, treating his cock with that same desperate revenance all to hear a kind word from your superior. it’s hard not to think of your mouth stuffed full, the bulge in your throat, the feel of his hand about the back of your neck as he hungrily pumps into you and relished the feel of your pretty lips wrapped around him. and when he does have such thoughts, there is really no other option than to wrap his hand around his cock and fuck his fist to them.

gorou spends a lot of time at sangonomiya shrine, searching out the divine priestess for battle meetings or new instructions or other such business, when her busy schedule does not allow her to come down to find him - and it’s this which has forced him to pay attention to the shy, gentle shrine maiden who has seemingly been assigned to look after him whilst he is there. oh, he’s incredibly guilty about it - not only a civilian, but a shrine maiden, who is supposed to be sweet and pure and who he knows could never truly reciprocate his advances-- but that doesn’t stop the fact that the merest spike of your scent on the air makes him want to whine and paw at the ground and hope that how hard he is isn’t visible. you’re so sweet to him. one of the first times he had come, you had offered him some sweet treat you’d baked, and gorou had fallen fast and hard - and that you’re always happy to see him, shy but polite, lovely and - to his dog brain - so obviously fertile it hurts him does not do a thing to assuage his guilt. and when you occupy his thoughts so completely it’s no surprise he spends his night, in tents, hoping nobody hears him . . . he imagines you on your hands and knees before him as he ruts into you and bites and scratches at your shoulders, as you beg him to fill you up with his seed.

ayato is terribly glad his sister has made a friend. though she does her duties without complaint and the world at large seem to adore her, he knows her well enough to see her loneliness - and so, your sunshine-bright presence is welcome. he adores the way you bring her out of her shell so carefully, the smile on her face after she’s spent a few hours with you . . . so it’s an awful pity that he can’t look at you over dinner without imagining dismissing the servants and railing you over the fine polished table until you’re crying out his name with your fingers curled helplessly into his shoulders. you’re simply so . . . loyal. so adoring. you have big puppy dog eyes and an eager, friendly nature that makes ayato want to teach you absolute obedience and have you following every order that he gives you as if it’s a life or death situation. he wants you to breathlessly thrust your hips back into his as you pant out, in between his own smooth, measured ones, the question of if you’re doing a good job. he wants to hear you ask how you can fuck him better, how you can make him come harder . . . and it’s the thought of teaching you to be a perfect desperate-to-please doll for him that makes him groan into his fist as he ruts his hips into fine silken sheets.

thoma understands nobility, after spending so long working for the kamisato clan. he understands arranged marriages and what matches are appropriate and which are not - and it’s this which makes him know that no matter how his eyes linger on you, you’re too far above his station for anything to ever come to fruition. when he is schmoozing in his capacity as housekeeper to esteemed guests of the yashiro commission, he does his best to not give you any special treatment - but it’s hard not to notice you treat him like more than simply the help. hard not for him to notice the pretty shape of your lips and the glint of your eyes, to laugh when he’s surprised as you whisper some joke in his ear. he thinks that it must simply be that you are a good, kind person . . . but for thoma, the thought of those lips and that laughter and that teasing smile are most likely to haunt him on nights when he is aware of how alone he is in his bed. it’s those nights he imagines how your teasing laughter would pitch and break whilst you straddled his lap, as he gently thrust his cock inside of you until you were boneless with pleasure with your arms about his neck. it is a good job that he is the one to do laundry so often, for nights after your visits mean his sheets need a thorough cleaning.

diluc considers himself a good employer. he’s certain that the maids and the barstaff and the winery workers would consider him the same; he’s polite if a little distant, he pays them well, he doesn’t get over-familiar but he does make a habit of knowing a little about them . . . but you, one of the new bartenders in the angel’s share, are certainly making this difficult for him. he interviewed you himself, and perhaps (it is shameful to admit it) he may have hired you simply because he couldn’t take his eyes off of you, but you have certainly done your part to make sure that he doesn’t regret it. you’re a very fine worker - which makes it all the worse that every time he sees you, his thoughts are not of praising you for a perfectly mixed death after noon or asking how the sales of his non-alcoholic mixes are going, but instead taking you up to the room he keeps in the angel’s share for nights he stays in town and simply fucking you on the shabby little bed until you’re mindless and drooling and panting with pleasure. nights when he does need to stay in that room and you are the barstaff working are the worst - for, with you so close, how can he not indulge in a little fantasy as he wraps his fist about his shaft and imagines your sweet voice caressing the title of ‘master diluc’?

zhongli has, for most of his existence, had his pick of lovers to take - but times have changed, and he is now an ordinary mortal, and more than that . . . he is employed, and it would be most unbecoming of him to sour his working relationship with the wangsheng funeral parlour by admitting to his desire for hu tao’s assistant. it is not merely that you talk her down from some of her wilder ideas, but that you are well-measured and intelligent and terribly polite to him, as well as very, very pleasant to look at. the sound of your voice shaping ‘mr zhongli’, the little bow of your head, the soft, shy smile you give him . . . ah, zhongli is not used to not being able to simply have what he wants. but work is sacrosanct. even an unwritten contract - one such as ‘interpersonal relationships at work are frowned upon’ - remains a contract, and so he has no choice but to spend his nights lazily stroking himself, imagining you in various states of undress, your wide-eyed surprise at undoing his trousers and finding two cocks of more-than-impressive size, the realisation in your eyes when you discovered the man who wishes you to service him is a former deity who he has heard you profess devotion and admiration for several times. he can only hope that one day, you will grow tired of hu tao, and that little unspoken contract can be broken so you are his for the taking.

kazuha is too polite for his own good. it doesn’t matter that he knows you like him; it doesn’t matter if he can sense the imperceptible warming of air when you catch sight of him and smile, that he notices the way that you seek him out and almost hears your heart beat faster when he is in the vicinity. you’re lovely (whilst you’re worthy of poetry that waxes lyrical about your beauty, his poetry about you is surely not worthy enough). and so, he cannot help but think you deserve more than being weighed down by him. he wants to be free just as much as you do, and even if he spends his nights sleeping on grass beneath the stars by your side (and trying not to wake you as he guiltily slips a hand between his thighs and attunes himself to your soft breathing, imagining how it would hitch if he were, for example, to slip between your own thighs and use his mouth on you until your hands tugged at his hair and you came sweetly and beautifully for him), he wants to be entirely sure that such freedom is always available for you. that, he thinks, is what really loving somebody means.

#genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #not sfw text #zhongli x reader #diluc x reader #ayato x reader #kaeya x reader #kazuha x reader #gorou x reader #thoma x reader #breeding mention for ts #afab reader implied

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moochalove · 6 months

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Last Nights Mistake and Beginnings

(Kazuha x Pregnant!Reader x Scara)

Idk whats even goin on anymore!!!

This fucking sucks and i’m not expecting anyone to read (Damn, you guys eating this up…..) but I kinda had an idea and just went crazy w it….. i will be making a part two because i will go crazy if i don’t😋

word count: idk but it’s pretty long 😊

not proofread 🙏

reader is a little mental and stupid but who isn’t❤️‍🩹

kazuha is sleazy in this fic + a phony + should not be trusted + sorta a cheater but reader is kinda okay with it

•

You had met Kazuha at a club. It was your secret getaway from reality and working, your safe haven. Sipping your drink you stood away from the crowds simply minding yourself and taking in the noises of chatter and laughter. You enjoyed it. Glancing around at the faces you noticed this fairly handsome man. He noticed you too, he handed his drink to his friends as they cheered and laughed at him walking over to your direction.

You stifled a small giggle as you brushed your hair back and started with a simple “Hi.” While exchanging names you took this time to glance at his features, his beautiful porcelain skin, and silky smooth white hair with a dashing red streak placed in the center, he was gorgeous you thought to yourself.

The night was spent full of giggles and flirtatious gestures. It may have been the alcohol clouding your mind but every time you glanced at him you felt the sudden urge to take him home with you, you weren’t sure what you would do when you got home, would you stare at him and apologize then sending him home? Or would you let the alcohol take full control and sleep with him? Both options don’t sound too bad but you eventually decided the latter.

Twirling your soft hands through his medium-long locks your gaze settles on him as you plant a kiss to the side of his face. You waited to see if he would reciprocate. Kazuha pulled your hands out of his hair and pinned them above your head as he pinned you against the wall, hot mouth clashing into yours. Holding back your small moans you rub up against him and his slight bulge, pulling away you gasp for air as a string of saliva connects the two of you. Looking at him with yearning eyes he picks you up and leaves the club (of course after you pay for your drinks.)

Once you returned to your house you quickly stripped off both of your clothes while making your way to the bedroom. Giggling all along the way you reach the bed as you embrace each other before he starts kissing up on your neck. Rubbing your hands through his soft hair you think to yourself, “It is silky..” laying back you take in the clouded view before everything goes dark.

You can’t seem to remember what happens next although you’re certain you both know.

In the morning you’re alone.

The bed is a mess, it seems only your clothes are scattered throughout the house. “Maybe he’s in the bathroom?” Circling around the couches you make your way down the hall towards the bathroom. You knock once. No answer. You’re certain he’s gone so you open the door. Nothing. Looking around you noticed the floor was wet, maybe he took a shower before he left. The mirror stares back at you and you then notice how sad you look. What were you expecting? For him to say he loved you truly and that he was gonna stay? No, it was a one-night stand. That’s all.

Uh oh, looks like your last night mistakes were here to haunt you. Lurching forward you spew out contents from last night. Deciding it would be best to wash up you go to grab fresh clothes and a towel before checking your phone. Maybe he left you a message. Nothing. Shaking your head you jump in the cold shower and begin to wash up.

A couple of months had passed and boy, has it been a crazy couple of months… You were in your 19th week and you just played it off by saying you’ve been stress eating and it was just “weight gain” but your doctors said otherwise. Every now and then you wondered if you should’ve contacted Kazuha as soon as you knew but a voice inside your head told you not to burden him. From what you learned that fateful night he had told you he was a free spirit and that he could possibly never settle. Being drunk and stupid you said, “Oh yeah totally, I could NEVER think about wanting to commit to anything other than work! Life’s too short to being chained down in one place forever!!” Maybe that’s what sold him on you. Both of you having a fun night with no regrets. Alas, all good times must come to an end and you must face the consequences of your drunken actions, so here you were, trying on different outfits to hide your small baby bump. You needed to expand your wardrobe to more concealing outfits and more jackets.

As you leave the store you see him. Kazuha is wandering around the mall with his friends, laughing and having a good time. You want to turn the other way and leave but you can’t help but stare for a moment hoping he doesn’t notice you. He does, he runs over and hugs you. You’re stunned and can’t seem to piece together words. “Y/n! How have you been?” He says out of breath from running. You blush faintly as he looks at you. Slowly swaying the bag of clothes behind you, “I’ve been good? And you? I haven’t seen you in awhile haha..” you trail your laugh as you look away. “Oh yeah, last time we…” a cute pink blush dusts his face as he seems more interested in the floor all of a sudden, “Anyways… I just thought I’d come by and say hi. Actually- I was wondering if you wanted to go out and grab drinks with me and my friends.” He turns back to look at you sheepishly. You really don’t want to but you don’t wanna make it seem like you’re avoiding him. “Uh.. I would but I have to drop some things off first, haha.. Um, you guys go ahead and I’ll catch up with you later, yeah?” “Oh right, it seems I caught you in the middle of shopping, my bad. Yeah you can stop by when you’re done. We’ll be at the usual place! I’ll see you later.” He places a quick kiss to your cheek as he runs back to his other friends. Quickly turning away you decide to just leave through a different exit not wanting to cross paths with them again.

Once you get home you slowly drop to the ground as you rub you head. You shouldn’t have said you would go.

Entering the club you smile waving at familiar faces and spot Kazuha and his friends in the secluded corner. If you remember correctly it’s Scaramouche, Heizou, Ayaka, and Xinyan. Oh and sometimes Venti, Ayato, and Thoma. He waved towards you as he gestured for you to sit down by him, he was sitting on the outer corner of the round table so if you needed to get up and leave you could. Once you sat down you felt your stomach twist with anxiety. You simply started counting the things you could see and hear.

“I’m not sure if you’ve met her but this is my friend Y/n!” He turned to smile at you “We’ve been friends for awhile now.” Nodding along you speak “Hello. Nice to meet you all!” You smile at them all. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Miss Y/n, Im Ayaka!” She greeted with you a smile. “It's a pleasure to meet you Y/n, I'm Heizou!” he reached over the table to shake your hand “ah, what a surprisingly firm grip!” shaking your hand once more he returned to his seat. Turing slightly to the left you turn to face Xinyan, “We’ve heard many interesting things about you!” “O-oh like what?” Xinyan exclaimed, “Oh just the basics, Yknow like what your favorite color is, favorite band, food and what-not! Kazuha can’t seem to stop talking about ya’!” She gave a playful wink as she giggled possibly implying something. Kazuha grabbed your shoulder shifting you closer to him as his friend who you hadn’t noticed was not at the table sat down. Ah, it’s Scaramouche. He sat down at the end and you felt your fist clench. There goes your way of leaving, sure you could ask him to move but the things you’ve heard about him you decided your personality don’t clash well so you would be best to just avoid talking to him unless needed. The waiter came over and asked for everyone’s order, when it was your turn you just decided to get water, alcohol wasn’t something you planned on drinking tonight because you didn’t want a repeat of last time, plus it wouldn't be good for you. “Oh, no drinks tonight Y/n?” Kazuha looked like a sad puppy. “Nah, I’m good, I have work in the morning and I’d rather not wake up with a pounding headache. Next time though!” You hoped there wouldn’t be a next time. “Okay then!” He gathered the menus and handed them back to the waiter then slyly hung his arm around you.

You tried to pretend it wasn’t there and listen into the bustling atmosphere like you once did. Of course, though someone had to bring you into the conversation. It’s not like you hated them but you wish you had met them under different circumstances. “So, Y/n what do you plan to do in the future? I hear you have a nice paying job but it goes against your ideals. How are you gonna deal with that?” Scaramouche asked as he sipped on his non-alcoholic drink. Had you said something in your drunken state to Kazuha? Oh no what if you embarrass yourself what if- “Oh come on Scara try and ask some interesting questions, that’s boring! I wanna hear what her love life is like!” Ayaka retorted. “U-um well I don’t really have time for love in my life haha, If anything I’d rather avoid it, but I guess if I met THE one I wouldn’t mind keeping them around for the ride… haha I hope that answers your question..” you trail off before taking a big sip of your water. At this point you couldn't decide if you wanted to play as a “love interest” for Kazuha of if you would just avoid acting love-dovey with him.

Ayaka nodded agreeing with what you said “I agree! Although I would be way more open! You can’t be picky when it comes to love!” She sharply turned towards Kazuha, “You're next, Kazu!” Pushing his hair back he sighed “Ayaka we already talked about this…” She leaned across the table “But it’s a great icebreaker question!” Realizing her position she sat down with a quick “ahem..” “Looks like our princess is fired up! Haha, cmon now Kazuha you know how she gets when she’s like this! Answer!” To be honest you were kinda curious despite your current dilemma in your head. “I like it when they’re strong-willed, courageous, soft, long hair, oh, and someone who likes to cuddle!” “Is that all?” “Mmm, just the surface but I don’t wanna bore you guys all night long” Ayaka’s hands clapped together as she smiled brightly “See these are great ice-breaker questions!” “Eh, not really..” said everyone in unison. Ayaka then proceeded to ask everyone else the same question, You don't really remember most of their answers except that Xinyan likes men and women who are more on the stronger side- both mentally and physically. Heizou said he preferred anyone taller than him, and Scaramouche said he only wanted someone who knew how to cook.

They rambled on a bit more before Heizou and Xinyan took their leave claiming they needed to get to the local gaming store to pick up their copy of the latest game that came out. Now that the bright extroverts were gone you weren't sure what to do or say. Ayaka had made some effort to talk about random things but quickly ran out of topics to talk about. Growing tired by the minute you soon began to build up the courage to say you were going to leave, the bustling atmosphere seemed no longer enjoyable, and Kazuha seemed too busy playing footsies with Ayaka to even say anything to you. “I thi-” Scaramouche grabbed your hand suddenly, yanking you off the seat, “We're gonna go grab some drinks! We’ll be back!” he said looking back at them before waving nonchalantly at them.

Guiding you through the small crowds of dancers you're trying to make sense of the situation, “Um-” “God you're pathetic.” Was he really insulting you??? You didn't even do anything to him??? A confused expression plastered your face, “I'm sorry what?” “I said you're pathetic. Have you not noticed?” Sitting down at the bar stool you look at him even more confused, trying to recall if you had done or said something. “You think he's into you?” Oh, it's about Kazuha. “Listen, I never said he was into me- Aren't you jumping to conclusions?” “Why you little… Have a look for yourself” he spun your seat around you could see them through the small crowds: Kazuha and Ayaka staring at each other like a young couple in love, You could immediately tell how serious they were about each other. “You wouldn't wanna ruin such a young and happy relationship would you, Y/n?” You turn back around laying your head in your arms, “So what am I supposed to do? I'm just his friend. Nothing I can do-” Turning back around you cock your head to the side. “Doesn't it make you angry? Seeing him getting all lovey-dovey with someone other than you?” Was he trying to get you riled up? Seriously? “Listen, we had one night together, that's all. If you know everything why don't you go ask him yourself?” You can feel yourself breaking little by little. “I would but it seems he's busy right now!” He really was trying to piss you off for his own entertainment, huh.. “Oh please I don't need the person who only wants a lover who knows how to cook to make him happy trying to control MY love life.” “Oh yeah? Well, I don't want someone who has one-night stands to tell me what I think is good!!” you both were getting louder by the second. “Yet you clearly have shit taste!!” “Said the one who is practically married to her job!!” “Oh yeah? Oh yeah?? I hear you go around bumming money off your mo-” “SCREW YOU” “SCREW YOU TOO” Almost everyone at the bar witnessed you two pulling each other's hair and yelling curse words at each other.

Not long after you were both escorted out and left on the side of the street.

“Look what you did!” Scaramouche yelled at you, You weren’t really concerned about him but instead tried digging through your purse for your car keys. Once you found them you headed towards your car, “Yeah yeah, whatever. I’m headed home. Please let Kazuha know I got home safe and- why are you getting in my car?” Scaramouche lowered himself into the seat before covering his face with his hands, but peeking through his fingers, “Crap… why is she here… she never leaves her office- and who is that with her? Oh, it’s that sly vixen bit-“You looked at him confused before realizing who he was talking about. “Isn't that your mo-” “Shut it- she's no mother to me!” Starting the car you start to check all your mirrors making sure it’s okay to pull out.

“I think she's gone so you can come out no- OHSHIT GET IN THE BACK AND HIDE YOURSELF.” “Why-” practically tossing him in the back you comb through your hair and turn up the radio a little to cover the sounds of Scara struggling.

“Y/n? I just came out to look for you! Why're you leaving so suddenly?” Leaning in a weird position your arms are awkwardly posed as you force a smile. Normally, you're calm and collected, ready to behave falsely, but this time you were caught off-guard. “Did something happen between you and Scara-” “NO,” with a short ‘ahem’ you straighten out. “Nope! Nothing at all! I was just feeling a little nauseous, so I'm gonna head home-” he placed a quick kiss on your head before caressing your face, “Get well soon, my love.” Stiffening up before you melted into his warm touch, and placing a small peck on his knuckles, “Oh, Kazu, I'll be just fine. Don't worry about me-” Noticing how his face lit up at the fact you said you'd be fine made you wonder if you were holding him back from his precious time with Ayaka. “I'll let you go then.” Snapped from your thoughts you pull away and set your hands on the wheel, “I love you, and I'll see you later.” Nodding you reply with a simple ‘bye’ before you watched him head back to the club.

You really were just a side fling. Something he could play with with, knowing you would be just fine. Right? You’ll be fine, won’t you?

Tears started to roll down your soft cheeks. “I hate him.” Gripping the wheel you slip and speak your intrusive thoughts, “I should run him over” “HUH?” Scara exclaimed as he pulled your clothes off himself, “OHFUCK, I FORGOT YOU WERE HERE… UMMM…..” “Damn, Y/n, you have it rough… Almost makes me feel bad” he snickered before fondling the clothes that had concealed him. “Um, anyways, why do you have maternity? clothes in your car?” You froze for a second before laughing and putting up a front, “For my sister. She's expecting,” you stated blankly as you turned the corner and left the club parking lot. “Sister?” Scara almost didn’t buy it but it wasn’t his place to pry for details. “Well, never mind then.” Hands relaxing on the wheel you decide to feed him more details so he’s sold on the idea of your sister, “She’s in her 19th week, from what I heard from my parents is that she’s expecting a baby boy. Can you believe I’ll be an aunty?” With a soft chuckle, he agreed, “I can agree actually, you almost have all the qualities to be a mother, so why not an aunty- at least what I hear from Kazuha- not that I think you-“ “It’s fine, I get that a lot from people!” “Really?” “No.” “I hate you...” Laughing in response you start to feel a bit nauseous again so you pull over on the side of the road. “Sorry, my head hurts really bad so I’m gonna stop for a second. Just to be safe, of course.” Humming in response he crawled back up into the front and started to browse through the radio channels, finally choosing a radio that streamed classical music he laid his head back.

You weren't thinking about anything peculiar, wishing for this throbbing pain to go away, but that was it. Scara on the other hand… He wondered to himself if he had read Kazuha’sand your “situationship” wrong. Maybe he was into you? Were you also into him the same amount? Were your feelings real? Why was he so intent on keeping you away from him? Was it for Ayaka’s sake? No- that doesn’t make too much sense. You seemed to love and hate him equally… He wasn’t sure but all he knew now was that you weren’t ALL that bad. His thoughts were cut off-

“Sooo, where do you want me to drop you off?” He thought for a moment. Kazuha would probably bring Ayaka back to their shared apartment before her brother would come looking for her, so that’s a no. Home? Knowing his mom wouldn’t be there didn’t seem so bad. But he also wanted to make sure you got home safe, why? he himself wasn’t too sure.Maybe it was the very little “gentleman” in him his mother had molded him to be.

He knew he would regret this but he asked anyways, “Do…” shyly looking out the window he seemed more interested in the passing cars in the distance, “Do you think I could crash at your place tonight- I don’t really wanna go ‘home’ right now,” squeezing the wheel you hesitantly agreed, “No I totally get it- Really it’s fine!” turning towards you he looked like a frail cat who’s eyes lit up at the sight of food. Turing your blinker on and waiting for ongoing cars to pass you merge onto the road.

“Thanks, Yn… I was honestly expecting you to dump me on the side of the road.” he spoke so sincerely.

Once you got him the sudden realization of all the baby clothes and diapers were left out in the front you panic for a second. “A-ah… I just remembered my living room is a mess right now… Um- wait out here for a sec, i’ll be quick,” fumbling with your house keys you squeeze the door not allowing him to see too much inside. Scara quirked an eyebrow but was soon distracted by a scrawny cat walking up to him, mewling hoarsely.

Leaning down he decided it needed his divine attention!

Grabbing all the clothes laying out you stuff them into a giant box and sprint to your room, hiding them under your bed, same with the diapers but instead grabbing gift wrapping paper and what ever you could find before stuffing them into your closet. If for some reason he were to look in your closet all he would find is gifts for your beloved sister! Scanning the room one last time you make sure nothing is left out.

Rushing back to the you invite Scara in you immediately take notice he is busying himself with one of the neighborhood cats you feed. “I would have never guessed you liked cats,” posing against the doorframe you smile down at him, “But I guess I can’t blame you!” Scara seemed to be in his own world petting and rubbing the cat’s fluffy fur with the occasional twig intertwined between it. “Does she have a name?” He asked gently not wanting to make too much noise to startle the purring cat. “Mmm, I’ve just been calling her MeowMeow.” Leaning down next to him you gently stroke behind her ears as she curls into your touch. “I found her cold and weak a couple of weeks ago. It seems like she's not fattening up yet…” Scara turned to look at you angrily, “And you didn't take her to the vet?” “I have a good paying job, yes- but with how much my bills are a month….” you quickly retorted already feeling guilty about not getting MeowMeow checked out.

All he could do was pinch the bridge of his nose before sighing, “I’ll pay for her vet fees- if you'll allow me-” Ah, he meant he was gonna use its moms money but nonetheless your eyes glistened with hope that he was being serious, “Really? You're not joking are you?” You leaned closer to him with desperation, “Tell me you're not joking,” He didn't seem to mind the closeness between you two as he continued to pet the cat's fur, “Of course, why would I be joking?” said a slightly annoyed Scaramouche. “Well- I'm not too sure actually…..” The silence made itself known as you both eventually took turns petting the poor cat before you went to get her wet food. She ate her food quickly before returning to wherever she came from, leaving you and Scara standing in the cold.

“I… I cleaned up so you can come in now.” Without saying anything he walked inside, plopping himself onto your spacious couch. He tried to loosen up a little but couldn't seem to get comfy. You, on the other hand, had washed your hands and were preparing some food for you both, simple ham and cheese sandwiches with some juice for the both of you before you went to sleep. Scara found his way to the guest bathroom while you left his food for him on the sofa. You scrolled the TV waiting for him to come out just in case he needed anything.

Once he came out he looked a little more relaxed, face freshly cleaned and dried. Putting the remote down you lean over to grab some blankets out of a basket, “So, I made you a sandwich with some juice to drink- the TV is here if you wanna watch anything and I've got some blankets in case you get cold-” He simply nodded, “What time should I be gone?” “Well, unless you have a ride, I suppose whenever. But if I'm your ride probably by 10 or 11- Let me know if sooner though.” Scara made himself comfy before replying, “Whenever you wake up is fine. Goodnight, Y/n.”

Walking down the hall into your room you shut the door before lying down and eating your yummy-looking sandwich. Once you finish you decide to get some sleep not wanting to think too much about the fact Scaramouche is here and how your night went. Slowly but surely you drift off into a light sleep…

THATS WAS SO LONG BUT THIS IDEA HAS BEEN ROTTING MY BRAIN!! TY FOR READING IF U DID <33

#genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin x y/n #genshin fluff #genshin angst #kazuha #kazuha x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #pregnant reader #afab reader #fem!reader #pregnant!reader #tw alchohol mention #reader is a little stupid

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wanderingconstellations · 6 months

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STOPPP THIS WAS FROM MONTHS AGO... ME AND @ciarchivez DID THIS, OK.. I JUST DIDN'T REMEMBER TO POST IT THATS ALL

Afab ! Reader. Riding. Lyney being a total tease. Cockwarming. Nipple Play. Lmk if I missed anything !!

you can't change my mind that lyney doesn't help you put your makeup on. by helping, I meant by him having you cock warm him while the tip of his cock is nuzzling so nicely inside of you.

your lipstick stains on his own lips while he guides you how to ride him while he kisses you, smearing the red lipstick that he previously painted on your dear lips. It makes his cock twitch and he watches your eyes roll back knowing it presses on your sweet spot.

fortunately, he was done with your eye makeup, so now he was painting your lips, but moans keep spilling out of your mouth when you open it, making it much more difficult for him to reapply your lipstick.

you can't help it when his cock is literally sheath deep inside of you. you struggle to put your eyeliner on, doing your very best to not ruin it while lyney teases you, fondling with your breasts so nicely that you have to bite your tongue to keep your mouth shut.

he sucks while fondling with the other, feeling how your pussy twitches in delight as he now feels a puddle of liquid pool on his shorts.

lyney clicks his tongue before holding your wrists as he thrusts upwards into you with a pout, softly scolding you that he can't afford to have spare clothes because all of it are tailored and expensive. unfortunately, you barely hear a thing as your pussy continues to leak slick as it mixes with your cum on his now soiled garment. slight smug grin can be seen on his lips, being so proud of his successful ministrations.

fuck, you can't even put your lipstick on— not while his perfect length was kissing your cervix so nicely, especially when lyney would unexpectedly jerk his hips upward every now and then. being the annoying tease he is, he would look at you with innocent eyes, fluttering his lashes every time you cast a sharp, surly gaze to him.

when he feels a puddle of liquid pool on his shorts, he clicks his tongue before lazily holding your hips as he thrusts upwards into you with a pout, softly scolding you that he can't afford to have spare clothes because all of it are tailored and expensive. unfortunately, you barely hear a thing as your pussy continues to leak slick as it mixes with your cum on his now soiled garment— your mind is just sooo hazy, you can't even grasp a single thought. you even forgotten about going to that silly party of yours, oh well.. more quality for you and lyney then.

✧ — REPOSTS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED <33

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cheesecakethots · 8 months

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one of the worst things about being stuck with yan!illumi is that he oversees EVERY detail of your life. it’s even worse that you know he does.

if you’re afab, you’ll find the exact sanitary products you have used for years and years on your bed the exact day you start your period. you definitely didn’t tell him those were the products you used, either.

…don’t think about it too much.

definitely offhandedly mentions how you’re on your most fertile days or something and has the sheer gall to expect you not to cringe and throw up your breakfast.

(… he has no shame in saying it at the table in front of his entire family.)

#tw yandere #tw.yandere #yandere #yanderecore #yandere illumi #yandere illumi x reader #yandere hxh #yandere hxh x reader #tw pregnancy mention #tw fertility mention #afab reader #tw periods

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venusandsaturnsrings · 7 months

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★彡 raspberry sorbet

synopsis: moving beyond the realms of friendship, Ajax smoothly beds you. infatuated and aroused, much like him, you indulge in a night of intense intimacy.

contains: 2.5k words, afab/fem reader, chubby reader, stalking mention, slight dubcon, f!receiving oral, blood sucking, aphrodisiacs, and p in v.

clandestine or otherwise naught, your meetings with Ajax remain amidst the dark. though bathed in the shadowy depths, it was impossible to ever truly feel afraid with his unbeating heart against your own. subzero fingertips and eyes reflecting the slightest bits of light, he was a sight sure to scare anyone unaware of his true nature; gentle. Ajax only ever touched you with cotton-soft hands and his teeth never close enough to so much as graze your skin. he had once indulged you that the distance between your skin and his mouth was not borne of repulsion but rather due to the crimson beneath. he could smell it from far away, saccharine and raspberries he said, to be so close had his muscles pulsing. never would he feed on you but the flow merely a scrape away from his own watering mouth was enough to have his head spinning.

it was turning into a miserable night. clouds pouring with enough rain to revert any drought and lighting crackling along the darkened sky. akin to ropes of silk, your disappointment was interrupted by mere wonder at the gorgeous display of light using the night sky as a canvas. your thoughts wandered to Ajax, ‘perhaps he’s fond of this weather?’ mentally you noted to ask him once he’s reached your home, though, it may as well be his home as well at this point considering how much he spent lounging around the space. a telltale rattle, a noise only possible from his nails, came from the glass separating your window from the cruel weather beyond.

unlatching and opening, Ajax awkwardly wiggled his way in forcefully and proceeded to hit the floor rather hard in his attempt to get out of the downpour as fast as possible. he huffed when his face made contact with the hardwood but stood up quickly with a crooked grin and shook himself of similarly to a dog. maybe he’d be a doberman? you scrapped the idea. with the floor now as wet as himself, Ajax slumped his body over to fully wrap you in his gangly arms, successfully soaking you as well in the process. the thought of being upset didn’t cross your mind as his affections were always endearing regardless of how much they ruined your clothes. he rubbed his cheek on the top of your head with a happy sigh and tightly gripped your waist, soothed from his run in the rain by your warm presence and body heat. fingers tugging at his drenched clothing, you urged him to take it off out of fear he may get sick, neglecting that it wasn’t possible for him to fall ill due to his biology. Ajax conceded regardless, stripping the wet cloth from his skin after making his way to your bathroom and piled it all upon the counter in a ball of dark jean and cotton.

“you’re soaked now too, only fair you strip down as well, sugar,” though the tacky pet name made your nose wrinkle you reluctantly followed. this wasn’t the first time he’d see you naked considering the way he liked to peer through your windows. despite his unsettling tendencies, it was near impossible for you to mind, simply brushing it off as his lack of social understanding from a life of incredible solitude. the reality was he fawned over your bare skin and often let his imagination go to work upon returning to his own makeshift home in the early hours of the morning. Ajax found you utterly tantalizing. now both fully nude, you filled the bathtub with warm water and lavender epsom salts. he had once commented on a candle you had burned, saying it smelled divine so you started purchasing only scents of lavender. curls of steam rose alongside the familiar floral and Ajax sighed happily from behind you. letting him sink in first, you followed to which he guided you to rest against his chest. small waves lapped at your chest and his torso where you both relaxed; warm. his fingers massaged along your scalp and neck, his chin rested on your shoulder. hands dancing along your skin, they gradually dipped along your arms before teasingly squeezing your chest. a yelp from you followed, jolting away from his body and turning to glare at the clearly amused ginger who quickly pulled you back against him. he hummed and rubbed his cheek against yours, mumbling something about how adorable he finds you.

“c’mon, let’s get out now my pretty blood bag.” you smacked his hands away from you and stood only to earn a sharp slap to the fat of your ass in return. you nearly whipped him with a wet towel but you knew his reflexes wouldn’t let that happen so you settled for scoffing at his lack of impulse control. once out of the water as well, Ajax helped to towel you off in a mock apology as he only took the opportunity to harshly grope you more through annoyingly adorable snickers.

sauntering back out to your bedroom, you rifled through numerous drawers to find something for both yourself to wear and for Ajax to finally clothe himself. you could only take seeing his lithe muscle and freckled skin for so long without turning into a puddle. a shirt and panties for yourself, some shorts and boxers you keep around especially for him as he never brings his own no matter the weather. it's almost as if he enjoys these intimately domestic moments with you? surely not. your mind looped back to the same excuse you always sowed yourself; he isn't familiar with the standards for relationships. friends don't strip and share baths together, skin to skin, and hands traveling across erogenous zones. friends don't intertwine their daily lives to the point of firm inseparability. friends don't look at each other the way he looks at you. and friends certainly never allow their bodies to press and pull the way Ajax is now doing to you.

hands pressed nearly imperceptible to your mid-section, he lead your body that was still yet to be dressed back with his own to gently seat you on the edge of the bed. he dropped to his knees between your own and gripped on of your hands to press a kiss to each fingertip as well as your palm. Ajax placed your hand to his cheek with a sigh and let his chin fall to the plush skin of your thighs, eyes closed. light lashes brushing along the tops of his cheeks with pale eyebrows furrowed slightly, an internal struggle obviously brewing. swallowing your words momentarily you admired just how gorgeous he is with somehow rosy lips, planes of ghostly skin, fangs permanently peeking past his mouth even when not fully dropped, and eyes a vast ocean of blue you're not sure you could ever fully decipher. you speak with a slight tremor, asking if he's alright or perhaps sick but your voice cracks over the word. time and time again you have to hammer it in your head that he can't get sick. 'Ajax cannot get sick. Ajax is not human.' a thought equal parts chilling and irritating. he hums.

"sick? maybe," his lashes flutter open to reveal that same sea you wished to dive in, to drown in. he pulls your wrist to his mouth, planting a kiss once more. "i think thats the word you'd use for it..." his words were barely above a whisper yet had a chill settling in your chest. is he messing with you? Ajax seems to pick up on your thoughts before you voice them, as per usual. "not sick in the sense of ill, sick as in 'lovesick'... do people still say that?" to which his lips traveled to your thighs where his head previously sat. you're hesitating mentally and physically. his slightly historic manner of speech was charming but a verbal admission of this nature wasn't something you had heard before. you could reason all the signs were there and, yes, you do really like him but the small spikes of insecurity clawed at your mind. "doll?" you hadn't noticed him call for you nor that his mouth stopped at the crease between your hip and pelvis. gulping and signaling him to go on, Ajax sighed, "cast away all doubts for me? enjoy the night while we have it, sweetness." you couldn't say you were relaxed per say but, you let him lay you back.

spine hitting the cool sheets and duvet, a shaky exhale left your lungs as Ajax kissed at your skin from your ankle to inner thigh. teeth still far from your skin, his slightly pointed tongue traced hearts across your flesh while his hands softly massaged your muscles to relax. with your legs over his shoulders, Ajax mouthed at the fat of your cunt as his drool slicked up everywhere it could reach. you weren't sure if the salivation was due to his desire of intimate flesh or that borne of your blood. all the same, he spread you open with long fingers and a low hum before licking from your dripping hole to your already sensitive clit. with a long life comes plenty of experience and Ajax makes that known with the way be begins to play your body like a piano. you imagine he'd give you an elaborate description, something about how you could be no less than a grand piano with keys of ivory. dwelling on your own little fantasies wasn't an option as he latched onto the pearl of your clit and prodded at the entrance of your cunt. his tongue drew shapes you couldn't recognize as he sucked along you in ways that already had you gasping and bucking desperately against his face. the hand not working itself into you slowly came to press upon your lower stomach, holding you down and giving him full access. his fingers gently stretched you open, curling and scissoring until you were keening and begging for him to speed up just that smallest bit more to reach your climax. you could feel him smile against you with his face thoroughly slicked up and, mercifully, he twisted his fingers perfectly along a harsh suck. neither alone or with another could you ever reach the godly pleasure he brought you. you clenched around nothing with an arched back and whines loud of his name paired with other nonsense. coming down from the sparks along your spine and trembling legs, you released his soft hair you hadn't even noticed was so tightly wound in your grasp. Ajax rested his cheek on your thigh once more with a smile though, this time, he was panting and his chin was soaked with the fluids that had leaked from you.

embarrassment couldn't grip you with the way he stood up and slid his calloused hands along all the skin he could touch. he gently repositioned you, with a strength you were still unused to, to be on your knees and elbows. he kisses along your neck and murmured small praises as he made sure you were comfortable for him. something about 'wanting to make this as painless as possible,' slipped past his lips but you didn't quite catch it through your post-orgasm induced haze.

"stay like this for me? you look stunning," his voice was still low and coated in a thick glaze of love. you nodded and made a noise of agreement before he lifted your hips a touch further and rubbed the swollen and leaking tip of himself against your still sensitive entrance. you whined and keened for him to which he soothed you through soft shushes and a hand rubbing hip. the hot touch of him sliding his cock along your cunt brought you to reality, though only briefly, and through your whimpers you questioned if he'd be putting on a condom. Ajax leaned down with a chuckle and shake of his head, "condom? what would i need that for, doll? you've been mine since the second you let me in your home." you could feel his teasing grin against your neck while he pushed himself in.

he wasn't exactly gentle but not rough. Ajax was attempting to ride the line between cementing your obedience and still letting you have that humanly sense of control. in his eyes, you're his the way you always have been but he's willing to cut a few corners in favour of easing you into a more subservient role with as little pushback as possible. he swallowed the saliva that had gathered in his mouth and, with his face pressed to your neck and cock pressed to your insides, he gently pierced you with his fangs. the slip of his fangs felt like a seering burn before a feeling of utter bliss washed over your body. it was almost like you had been moved out of your body yet you could still feel the movements of his cock and hands dragging all over you to pull as many orgasms out of your tight cunt as he could. slightly light-headed, you could feel yourself spasming around his dick and achieving a high that could only be described as heavenly. 'Ajax is not human.'

droplets of blood slipped past the small wound he had made and dribbled down your shoulder before being caught by his tongue. the taste was everything he imagined it to be, saccharine and raspberries, but perhaps it was you that made it so sweet, not some other factor like blood type or diet. only you could allow him a flavour so perfect against his palate and perfect along his cock. Ajax groaned into your ear, though to you it was heavily muffled, as he spilled himself into your clenching and already soaked pussy. hands roaming your skin and mouth planting further kisses, he worshiped your body in a reverent manner. as you now know his destined status as your lover and so kindly let him feed upon your blood, it would be wrong not to be the most devoted follower at your alter. he lovingly lathed his tongue across your neck till the bleeding had ceased and rolled you into his arms. between the blood loss and mind shattering fuck you had just received, consciousness wasn't going to last long. before you could slip off to rest amongst ruined sheets and Ajax's body, he whispered directly into your ear.

"you truly are a special girl. a feast for both my body and stomach," he paused to kiss where he had bitten to emphasise his point, "i will continue to protect you. i'm forever yours as you are mine, sugar." Ajax held you past sleep and into the morning, where he'd praise you once again, a sinner at your feet.

#cw: stalking #cw: dubcon #cw: blood mention #cw: aphrodisiacs #vamptaru #tartaglia x reader #childe x reader #fem reader #afab reader #chubby reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin smut #kinktober #ktober

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angel-archivist · 8 months

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It's so interesting and so exceedingly frustrating how agab is being utilized now within the queer community as a way to isolate and sort nonbinary and genderqueer folks into binary boxes that determine their moral purity levels, and their authority to do and write and exist.

The way nonbinary writers are being put under accusation of fetishizing gay men while their AGAB is continually brought up in a way that feels like queer-space-approved misgendering.

The way feminist circles that are supposedly trans-inclusive will use the word AFAB in a way that implicitly but intentionally isolates nonbinary people who aren't AFAB from joining. It's for women*.

The way the language is already flawed and leaves out intersex folks from the conversations while focusing on a binary of sex that isn't truthful.

The constant obsessing over whether someone is AFAB or AMAB and whether or not that gives them the privilege to join, do, write, or be present in certain spaces really really concerns me. How are we supposed to dismantle a binary system of gender if we can't even move past forcibly assigning and focusing on people's genders assigned at birth?

#and yes i understand! that agab language can in some circumstances be helpful in inclusive language and in the medical world but ultimately #is misgendering and unnecessary it should be up to the person to disclose their agab not an expectation of them to give up freely #I think that inclusive language shouldnt be misgendering in nature and agab as far as i can tell should only be used in select discussions #and certainly not as a way to frame a nonbinary writer as a “biological woman” but in a way where the queer community will nod along and sa #“oh they have a point” because you used the word AFAB instead #honestly afab is the term i see used most frequently and most harmfully towards other nonbinary people who don't identify w the label #to exclude trans women and amab nonbinary people #to frame nonbinary people as “still women” because of their assigned gender at birth #also i understand its not as simple as “not using” these terms bc they still serve a purpose and are important #but as they leave the queer community and as they enter the hands of cis queer people they become weapons #i wish i could like manifest my thoughts super clearly but i really cant bc its a difficult situation #its just another example of misogyny and bio-essentialism creeping into the queer community #because the patriarchy impacts all things including our discussions of trans oppression and gender we need to stop viewing it #as a strict binary of male female and oh sometimes we'll mention nonbinary people but we're all afab and amabs at the end of the day <3 #like flames literal flames #if you wanna like chip into the conversation just shoot me an ask or respond to the post i'd love to hear other peoples perspectives #im not infalliable so if i said anything you view as incorrect especially in regards to intersex folks and how you all would like to be #included in these discussions as im not intersex but am aware of how agab is a subject that leans into the idea of a binary of sex #so yeah rant over <3 #retro.bullshit #rant

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delopsia · 10 months

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Reeth | Rhett Abbott x Reader

Word Count: 10,000 Cross Posted on AO3 Brief Summary: Between his injuries and his insecurities, Rhett nearly falls apart. But you're there to put him back together again. Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, hurt/comfort (physically and emotionally), bodily injury, blood, brief mentions of violence and attempted murder, crying, brief appearance of food, Rhett's self-doubts and insecurities, rodeos, body worship & praise, I love you's, riding, overstimulation, happy ending. Inspired from the song Reeth by Penny and Sparrow.

There's something thumping.

A dull, insistent tap, tap, tap that seems to stop when you lift your head but restarts when your head reunites with the cool material of your pillow. Mayhaps the antics of a ghost you're not yet aware of in this big old rental home. Or maybe it's the antics of the boy down the road, who thinks ding-dong ditching is practical in a town where the men are trigger-happy, the land is flat, and driveways are a mile long at the bare minimum.

Or maybe it's your elderly neighbor pleading for help because her husband fell again.

Thunder rumbles, icy drops of rain pattering like a symphony against your metal roof. If it's not a tree limb, and someone is truly out the door, then something must be wrong. Lightning bathes your bedroom in a brief flash of white, and the longer you wait for the following boom of thunder, the thinner the air seems to become. Shit.

The last thing you feel like doing is crawling out of bed; you've only just begun to fall asleep, but alas, your feet hit the cold hardwood anyway. Sleepily padding down the hallway, past the kitchen, and toward the front door, where the knocking seems to have stopped once more. The house is silent as you peek out your window, fighting to get a glimpse of who may be at your door. The porch is empty, devoid of anything but leaves blown up against the house.

But there's movement down your cracked sidewalk. A tall figure stumbling away from your door.

Icy wind blasts the door open, ripping the handle from your hand as it rushes past. Strong enough to knock over picture frames and the knick-knacks from the table by the door, but you hardly notice it. "Rhett?"

That has to be him because he slows to a halt. It's dark, but it's hard to miss the way he minds his left foot as he turns. That's him, that's him, and you're trying to come to him, but you can't move. Feet frozen to the wet concrete of your porch step.

Even the downpour cannot wash the blood from his face. Dripping from the bridge of his nose. A gash in his left cheekbone. And from somewhere up in his hairline, streaking down his forehead. He opens his mouth, but the only thing to come out is crimson liquid. Pouring down his chin. Staining his flannel.

The sound of your name cuts through the air. Garbled by blood that he can't swallow down. Drowned out by the rain. And the wind that rustles through trees. And the thunder that rattles the ground.

He's speaking again, but you don't understand him. Tripping over his own feet. Reaching out for you. Like you're just out of his reach. A sob pierces through the air because his arms come up empty. Mutters it again.

"Help."

His knees crumble out from under him.

And he drops.

You can't move quickly enough.

Running out into the pouring rain. Uncaring of how the freezing rain feels like tiny bullets upon your skin. Can't hear the slam of thunder because it's washed out by the wail of a cowboy.

A cowboy who can't lift himself up as he reaches for you. Whimpers your name when you drop into the grass and pull him up into your arms. His head heavy against your chest. Trembling with such a force that you shake with him. Those once strong arms wind around you. Dangling loosely. Not strong enough to do anything more.

The dull glow of your porch light illuminates more than you can bear to witness.

Bruises mottle his cheek, knuckle shaped and leading up to a deep, blackened bruise in the corner of his left eye. So close, it's easy to catch onto the split in his scalp, sliced open by something sharper than human nails. Reaches down to his left ear, takes a small divot out of the shell of it. There's a matching one on his forearm, scrawling up through his beloved bull-skull tattoo, and that's only what you can see at a glance.

"Baby," whispering into his uninjured ear, cradling him to your chest, "what happened?"

Lightning flickers; no sound to it, but he flinches into you anyway, shudders worse than the leaves in the trees as the autumn wind howls past. "It's my fault," his voice cracking, unable to hold together. "t's my fault...I started it."

In the back of your head, you can still hear yourself asking him to keep out of trouble; a bar fight a month doesn't sound like a lot until you're the one patching him up. You can't even begin to count the number of times you've been witness to the aftermath of what cheap beer and a small disagreement can lead to. "Rhett..." it slips out on its own.

"I'll be good!" He hiccups, "I'll—I'll be good! I'm sorry!" Choking on tears and blood and rain that you can't wipe away quickly enough. Still tries to talk as he coughs, beginnings of more I'm sorry's that never fully leave his frantic tongue.

His arms squeeze tighter. Yet they're still a shadow of their usual strength as he squirms closer. "Please don't...please don't leave me out..." stammering, can hardly get his head up against your chest like he's trying so hard to do. "Please don't...don't..."

"Hey, hey, it's okay," and you're shushing him, soothing your hands over his messy face, and his head is heavy as he leans into it like he can't keep his own head up without help. "Rhett, look at me, breathe."

"Don't—don't leave..." sucking in harsh breaths he can't catch, mouth moving, but not a thing coming out.

"I'm not going anywhere, baby," you're whispering, and for a second, you think the storm has calmed just long enough for him to hear your words. Frigid rain has long since soaked through your clothes, and you need to go inside, but all you can think about is pulling this trembling cowboy closer.

"I've got you. I promise," cooing into his ear, stroking the back of his head. "You're alright; I've got you." His cold nose finally finds its way into the crook of your neck, and you don't care if the blood stains your shirt or not.

The wind screams past your head, feels like it'll rip the clothes right off your body. Tiny pellets of hail strike at your skin, and you think they might just pierce through you. "Let's get you inside, alright?"

You're surprised that he's got the strength to nod, never mind get back up to his feet. A heavy weight against you, his arm slung over your shoulders because he can't support much weight on his left foot. This screeching wind has the pair of you teetering from side to side, and his foot catches on the first stair of your small porch.

And this part is easy; he knows this routine too well. Stumbling down your short hallway and into the bathroom, damn near collapsing onto the floor when you reach down to turn on the water to the bathtub.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Asking as you help him unbutton his shirt, revealing a myriad of deep red and purple marks that will surely worsen come morning. The handiwork of angry fists and the sharp edge of a steel-toe boot kicking at his ribs while he was down.

"Perry..." he starts; those eyes flutter, and just like that, he stops. Like he's still recollecting the rest of the story.

Well, that explains it.

Bar fights are almost always broken up before they can do damage such as this, and you've almost always had to come down to the police station to release him of Sherrif Joy's care. And even though you've seen firsthand how the Tillerson brothers are always looking for a fight with their neighbors, they know when enough is enough.

Luke and Rhett have been at each other's throats for years, but Luke doesn't kick a man while he's down. Where's the fun in an opponent who doesn't fight back?

Rhett's nemesis of a neighbor has more respect for him than his own brother.

The worst part is getting Rhett's legs over the edge of your clawfoot bath, and you're thankful that you've already seen the worst of his injuries because you don't think you can bear seeing another open wound.

"Was he drunk?" Only asking indirect questions as you rub this soapy cloth across his cheek. Washing away the dirt and blood that's caked to his skin until you can see his pretty face once more.

"He flew off the handle at mom," he sniffles, reaching up to rub a drop of water from his nose, "'n my smartass decided that was a good time to say that his temper is why Rebecca ran."

You hate the way that he whimpers when you have to wash the blood from his scalp. Clean water stinging at somewhat-open wounds, only further upset when you carefully scrub dried blood from his hair. The sight of these cuts makes your stomach twist sourly, but they're closing without assistance; no need for DIY stitches or a two-hour hospital trip. Not yet, at least.

"I think...he," Rhett's eyes flicker up to yours, swollen and red; if he had any tears left, they'd be streaking down his cheeks by now, "he tried to...he tried to kill me."

"And your parents didn't..." you're trying to find what to say, scrambling for thought; what do you say? "They didn't stop him?"

His response takes a while to come.

Silent as you dry him with a towel and help him step into some clothes he's left in case of unplanned sleepovers. Doesn't find what to say as you apply ointment to his wounds and wrap his sliced forearm. His eyes speak a million and one words, but they don't string together into full sentences. A hurt that doesn't restrict itself to physical pain alone.

"Want some ice cream?" You chirp, holding his hand as he gingerly sinks onto your couch.

Those saddened eyes light up like little blue fireworks, knows that you've still got a pint of his favorite in the freezer. Chocolate chip cookie dough. His head bobs with a nod, a small, "please," falling off his bitten tongue.

You'll forever take pride in being the one to introduce him to this flavor. Originally, you'd only done it to keep him from nibbling on your baking endeavors before they even touched the oven. Now, you keep it around just to see him brighten up after a long day.

Who would have thought that they make ice cream flavors that are not Royal's beloved vanilla bean?

But his hands are trembling far too hard. Spoon tumbling out of his flimsy grip and falling into his lap before he can even scoop any ice cream onto it. His frown deepens. Tries again, reaching for the spoon, but he can't seem to pick it up. Fingers poking and prodding, trying to pick up something that they simply cannot grasp.

"Here," picking up that evasive spoon, "let me help you."

There's that smile.

Sheepish, the tips of his ears burning with red, wobbling lips parting, wrapping around the spoon. Doesn't seem to know what to do with himself as you settle down next to him and spoon-feed him his ice cream.

Especially doesn't know what to do when the bowl is empty, and he impulsively sputters a quiet, "More?" Soft-spoken and shy, afraid to ask for such a thing.

You leave him with a kiss on his frozen lips and return with the whole damn container. And so what if you let him eat over half of the ice cream that you just bought yesterday? You don't even care that there are tornado sirens blaring outside your home or that Rhett wants to give you sticky kisses that you can feel lingering on your face.

The storm worsens after his head settles against your chest, listening to the thump of your heartbeat. Your arms have long since wrapped around him, cradling that big, strong body of his and humming when a sniffle wracks through him. The wind howls as loud as she can; you simply turn up the volume to the television.

It's been nearly two hours when Rhett finally responds to your question. And you've nearly forgotten that you even asked if his parents stopped Perry or not.

"Ma jumped in when Perry got ahold of the kitchen knife," he mutters, his eyes fixated on the movie playing on the screen, "Dad got me by my collar 'n hauled me out back."

Your thumb soothes across the short stubble of his jaw, freshly shaved this morning and already growing back in. Just as stubborn as he is.

He's quiet again, but only for a moment, "He threw me my keys 'n locked me out."

"But they didn't lock Perry out?" You already know the answer to your question; not surprised in the slightest when Rhett rumbles a small 'no.'

You hate to imagine what would happen to him if you weren't around to patch him back up.

It's hard remembering just how you got into bed.

Regardless of how and when it happened, you find yourself waking up late into the morning. Cozied up in a big, warm bed with a soft cowboy snuggled into the space beneath your chin, little wisps of his hair tickling your skin.

It's almost strange to wake up and find him still in bed. On most days, he's off to the ranch before dawn, busting his ass for a full hour before the rest of the family arrives to pick up where they left off. But you suppose being locked out of your own home warrants a day or two of skipping work.

Your lips press to his forehead, and faintly, you can feel him smile into the crook of your neck.

"Mornin," he murmurs, voice gravelly with sleep, vibrating against your neck. Tilts his head back just far enough to take a look at you, eyes barely open. "'m sorry for showin' up in the middle of the night," pauses to kiss your wrist as you reach to tuck his hair behind his ear, smiling weakly, just for a moment, "I shouldn't 've woken you up."

"You're allowed to come to me when you're hurt, Rhett," tilting his head up to meet your eye as you speak, "You'd do the same for me if I was in that situation."

He's quiet at that.

And you're not sure who it was that taught him he's not worthy of being cared for when he's hurt, but you hope they forever regret it. You can't stand the way he frowns and snuggles back into you, doesn't quite believe your words because someone has been telling him otherwise for his entire life.

It could be the fault of his father, who has gone as far as to teach him that boys don't have birthdays and that they should never cry in front of another person. Maybe it's the fault of his mother for standing by and never stepping in, even when she knew better. Hell, maybe it's the fault of his brother, who blames everyone but himself for his temper.

Rhett should be laying in bed, letting himself heal and taking it easy on himself, but he follows you out of bed, lingers in the kitchen while you cook, and tries to help where he can. Stretches his weary limbs after breakfast, pushing through a pain so severe that his eyes water as he raises his arms above his head.

"Are you really sure about riding tonight?" You find yourself asking, running a comb through his hair all the while. He's not particularly happy about it, but he's got some knots in the longer parts, and he's never been one to complain about his hair being played with. Forced scowl melting into upturned lips and smiling eyes.

"I ain't hurt that bad," he says, and you're sure that he believes that to be true, too. Stubborn to the end, this one.

Your nails rake down the back of his neck, tracing down the soft bumps of his spine, just to watch his back arch into your touch, flinching when he shifts his ribs too much. "You can hardly walk straight, baby."

"'m fine," he meets your eye through the reflection of the mirror, confident as he pushes his poorly forged narrative, "'ve ridden through worse."

Maybe, but most of those 'ridden through worse' times have been fueled by the elusive gift of adrenaline, biting away the pain until the moment the stadium lights shut off for the night. These injuries have had time for the hurt to set in and for sore muscles to tighten.

But you can't say you're surprised when Rhett digs out his gear and, admittedly, slowly gets ready for tonight. He can hardly button his flannel, never mind wriggling into his slightly too-tight jeans and fumbling with his chaps until you take pity on him and help him out. Sliding the thick material up his thighs and giving his ass a playful little squeeze when you're done, all to see him jump.

"You leave my ass alone!" He squeaks, swatting your offending hand away.

All you can do is wink; you've already won. "Too late, cowboy." And his pale cheeks are blazing with crimson. For a minute there, he's got you near convinced that he is feeling better.

Until you catch his facade slipping.

He limps to his truck, parked precariously in your driveway, crawls into the driver's side with all the speed and ease of a ninety-year-old man, his face twisting as he upsets just about every injury he's got.

"'m fine," he insists as you settle into the passenger seat.

"'m fine," he says when he puts too much weight on his left foot and gasps at the sudden bite of pain.

"'m fine," he promises right before he steals his good-luck kiss from your lips and hobbles off to join his buddies before they finish their warmups without him.

You expect to find Cecelia, Amy, and Royal up in the bleachers, in their spot tucked off into the far corner. They always sit in the same space, where it's easy to hop down and beat the rush of the crowd when the rodeo comes to a close. But they're not there. An empty gap that never fills.

At least, it doesn't fill until you catch the familiar, warm eyes of deputy sheriff Joy, her wife, and daughter in tow. "Now, this may be a dumb question because I know who usually sits here with you," she pauses, glancing around the stadium once more. Packed to the brim. Not another space to be seen. "But is the space next to you taken?"

"It's all yours," sliding over to make space for them, "I don't think they'll be coming tonight."

Joy and her wife have been nothing but kind to you ever since you stumbled into this hidden town way back when. And maybe that's why, when she asks about where the rest of the Abbotts are, you tell her. Recounting your memory starting from when you awoke last night, not missing a detail.

You only pause to watch as Rhett comes bursting out of the chute.

His body twisting, right hand held high as he hangs tight. But this bull is mean. Knocks him around like he weighs nothing. Kicking up plumes of red dirt. Never has more than two feet on the ground at a time. Almost smacks Rhett in the face with his horns. Yet, your cowboy manages to stay on until the buzzer sounds. Diving into the dirt in the same, not-so-graceful fashion as his usual.

One good ride. Two more to go.

"This ain't somethin' I'm supposed to go repeatin'," Joy begins, not a moment after Rhett's disappeared from sight, "but I have good reason to tell you that if nobody stepped in to stop Perry last night, Rhett wouldn't have even made it to his truck."

Your mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. But nothing comes out.

She seems to think for a moment, carefully analyzing her words before they ever leave her mouth. "It's cruel to say, but Rhett's safer if he's not in that house."

You hate that she has a point. You're no stranger to Perry and his temper, either.

And then Rhett's up again, firing out of the chute for a second time. His right hand once again held high to the sky as that bull drops into a spiral. Kicking, twisting, and Rhett's glued to this bull's back.

Until he's not.

The bull makes a sudden twist to the left. And Rhett's falling. Sideways. No time to react. Left shoulder crashing into the cold, hard ground. Tumbling.

But the bull is still bucking. Spiraling, trying to get that flank strap off. Uncaring as he all but jumps over Rhett's body. Misses him completely. Hooves mere inches away from his face as it turns a sharp left again.

Heavy hooves dig into Rhett's stomach.

Once.

Twice.

Darting away just as quickly, still bucking as those bullfighters step in. Urging him away.

Rhett's not getting up.

But he's coiled in on himself. A minuscule ball that doesn't budge until one of the bullfighters rushes in. Yanks him up from the ground and hauls him toward an open chute. Rhett's feet are moving, but they're slow. Struggling to keep up as he's all but drug across the dirt.

"They won't stop you from seeing him if I go with you," Joy's already ripping you from your stupor, taking you by the hand. "Come on."

You have no memory of standing up, nor do you recall anything on the way down the stairs. The flickering of the scoreboard briefly steals your attention; Rhett's name no longer occupies the number two slot, but you can't look to find where he's dropped down to. Your ears ring, muffling the chaotic chatter of the rodeo grounds into near silence.

Joy's leading you somewhere you've never been before; past security, through staff-only gates, and around sharp corners that never seem to end. Places you can't hope to memorize as she hauls you down toward a collection of familiar faces. Rodeo friends that Rhett's introduced you to in the past; you don't recall their names. Nor do you hear their voices as they point you toward where he's at.

The ringing fades within an instant.

"He took off on us," one of them is saying, and he's looking dead at you like you can do something about this, "talk him out of riding again, would you?"

It's not hard to find Rhett. The riders all point you down past the bull chutes, a one-way path that leads directly into the tree line. He's curled himself beneath the thick trunk of an old oak, trembling hand wrapped around an empty can of Rainier Beer.

He hates Rainier.

"Hey, cowboy," he jolts at the sound of your voice, surprised features instantaneously wrinkling into something pained, jaw clenched, grunting as his injuries bite at his nerves with razor-sharp teeth.

"You shouldn't..." his voice fades, chest heaving, "shouldn't be back here."

That rough 'n tough front dissolves the moment you settle next to him. He's muttering to himself, unable to keep upright as he all but collapses into your chest, right arm coiling around you, the left one dangling at his side, limp as can be.

"I'm the biggest fuck up out here," he sputters, weak against your neck.

"That's not true," you're carefully wrapping your arms around him, hand tangling into his hair as you hold him to you; it's last night all over again, only this time, he wails. A noise that bursts past his lips, wetness forming at your shoulder, and he's shaking and muttering something you can't understand, and there's blood seeping through his shirt and, and—

"That's not true at all," repeating yourself, murmuring into his ear, stroking the back of his head. Can't reach any further, not with that heavy vest in the way. "Look how far you've come; you're in the finals, Rhett. That means something."

Two of his buddies are coming around the corner, and you don't need to know their names to know what they're doing back here.

"Don't touch me," Rhett's snarling like a cornered animal, but they're unphased. A silent team as one grabs him by his collar, pulls him back, and the other gets ahold of his dislocated arm. "Don't! I'm fine! Don't, don't, don't—!"

Crackles soar past your ears. Bones popping back into place. Loud.

But not as loud as the ear-piercing cry that tears through the air. Raw. Torn. The kind of sound that hurts you to see more than it does to hear.

And Rhett's crumbling back into your arms, tears streaming down his cheeks like waterfalls, sobbing into your chest. As broken as the bones in his body. His shoulders tremble as he cries out again, pawing at your sides. Can't lift his arms to hang onto you.

"It's okay, it's okay," you don't know if those words are meant for him or for yourself. You've barely got the strength to wave his buddies on; you've got him, you'll look after him from here.

His voice is caught in his quivering throat. Choked off noises that barely form words. "You...shouldn't," shaking his head against you, over and over, "shouldn't be dealin' with this."

Something in your gut twists at that. "Rhett..."

"Look out there! My own fuckin' family ain't—ain't here for a reason," he blurts, and he's trying to look up and meet your eye, but he can't lift his own head. Too heavy for his beaten body to carry.

A choked sob rattles past his lips, "How are you meant to feel safe when I can't even hold my own in a fight I started?" He's reeling back, grimacing, clutching at his lower belly. Still has hoof-shaped prints of dirt on his clothes.

"All I do is worry you 'n put you through hell," and you hate how Rhett can say these things so easily. Weakly voicing thoughts that have probably been running through his head for months. Years, even.

His bloodshot eyes burst open as your shaky hands rise to cradle his cheeks. Thumbs stroking away dirt, sweat, and tears to find the remarkably soft skin beneath. Always so soft. Even with all that scruff on his jaw.

There's blood in his smile, wobbly, but there, some involuntary thing that always happens when you tuck his hair back behind his ear. You're leaning in, ignoring the dirt and grime as you meet those quivering lips with your own. Nothing but a soft lock that you can only hope gets him to hear what you're trying to say.

"You deserve someone...someone who can give you better than...this," he's talking softly, voice hitching around a sudden gasp for air, "Look at me... 'm a broken piece of trash, most days."

With a shuddered breath, you begin to speak, "Do you think that I kiss you because of what you give to me?" ignoring the bits of rock that dig into your knees as you bear your weight on them, attention laced solely on this cowboy of yours. The one you've always known would break, eventually, because he's not his father. Never has been, no matter how much he tries to force it.

His head doesn't nod, but you can see the burning 'yes' in his eyes. Once so vibrantly blue, now a muted hue.

"Well, it goes to show that you're not listening when I say that I know what I deserve," your forehead comes to rest against his, peering into those eyes that you can still become lost in, even all these years later, "And you're not listening when I tell you that you are worth more than you've ever realized."

And he's searching.

Never has been good at words, but he's stellar at finding even a single wrinkle of doubt in a face. Puffy eyes flickering across your features, to your nose, cheeks, chin, lips, but they freeze when they meet your gaze. A puff of breath escapes him. Eyes flickering closed as he leans into you.

He's looked for doubt. Denial. A scent of a lie.

He hasn't found it.

"It hurts," whispering, barely audible over the roar of the crowd, as a buzzer sounds.

"I know," whispering in return, and you think your voice might have cracked.

"But I need to..." his head twists to look back at the stadium, flinching as he tries to look over his swollen shoulder, "I need to do this. It's...it's my last..."

A part of you already knew he was going to lead back around to that. "You're sure?"

With a deep breath, he smiles. Something familiar flickering back to life within him. And that's all that needs to be said.

When you'd stumbled over here, unable to keep in tune with Joy's valiant step, you'd thought it was the physical pain that had brought Rhett to his knees. Body beaten and abused beyond its breaking point, taking him down and swallowing him up in a pit of metaphorical flames.

But as you leave him with a gentle squeeze of the hand. And you listen to him argue with his buddies on your walk to rejoin Joy; you can't help but realize that sometimes, it's the internal wounds that hurt the most.

Because, would you know it, Rhett Abbott rides like he's never been hurt at all.

His right hand held high as that raging bull bucks and twists beneath him. Hundreds of pounds of muscle fighting to get him off. Turning with every buck. Never has more than two hooves on the ground at once.

Two decades ago, Royal Abbott took the Amelia County Rodeo by storm. Won four back-to-back seasons before he suffered a concussion so severe his wife served him an ultimatum. Quit riding or divorce. Rhett's got all but one of those season wins recorded on an old VHS tape. He's played it a million times, the excited giggles of his five-year-old self blaring through the speakers, shaky, unclear footage barely depicting a thing as Royal reclaimed his rodeo crown over and over again.

But out of all those tapes, of all those wins, the crowd never roared as loud as they do when Rhett's name soars back to first place.

"Down, boy!"

But your squeals are no use; Rhett's already drug you down, your bodies bouncing painfully against the mattress. His elbow digging into your side. You think your knee smacked into his tailbone. Limbs hopelessly tangling. His hair somehow in your mouth. And he's grunting because his belly is still sore, but he's too stubborn to acknowledge it.

"What did the doctor just say, huh?" You're trying not to giggle, but it's bubbling out of you anyway.

"Dunno, two hours ago is a long time," he deadpans, refusing to move off of you. At least, not until you start reaching for one of the throw pillows. "Sorry! Sorry!" Squirming, rolling off of you and onto the mattress, where he belongs. "Just tryin' to make the most of these painkillers."

Looking at him now and thinking back on the events of earlier, it's hard to believe that all this has happened within the same night. Normalcy shouldn't have come this quickly. This easily. Even so, it's fleeting; the moment this medicine wears off, Rhett's going to be a lump on the couch for the next week, at the least.

But right now, he's nuzzling his cold nose into your cheek, red and freshly bitten by the chilly autumn wind. Smiling as you look over to him, smiles as he realizes that you've caught on to what he's asking for.

If it were any other day, you'd tease him, make him voice exactly what he wants, and play coy when he isn't specific enough. But you've pushed him enough by taking his keys and driving him to the hospital, and that little impatient grunt of his is so damn hard to resist.

Rhett hums. Leans into your kiss with all the grace of a fat cat in the sun, rolling lazily into you, his hand skittering up your side. In no hurry to explore each other, the sugary taste of cola still fresh on his tongue, meeting your own in fleeting, shy touches. You wonder if he can taste the same on your own, the evidence of a stolen sip while he wasn't looking.

His body shudders with a shiver that runs through him from head to toe. Squirming even closer to you—

"Fuck," his eyes screw shut as he clutches at his lower belly, hissing.

"You alright?" He's nodding before you've even finished your question, doesn't open his eyes. You're not sure that you entirely believe him. "Maybe we shouldn't be doing this yet."

Images flicker behind your eyelids. Memories. The heavy hooves of a bull that damn near ripped him apart. The rippling crack of a shoulder put back into place, and the earth-shattering cry that followed.

Oh, but why do Rhett's eyes have to sadden like that? Gaze dropping to the comforter, afraid to look at you, like a kid who's just been scolded, "But..."

"Rhett, look at you. You're hurt." you're curling your hand around his cheek, stroking the thin skin beneath his eye, still a touch swollen from crying, "It's a wonder that you're even walking after tonight."

"It doesn't hurt that bad, I promise it, it—" stumbling over his words, "It doesn't...it doesn't hurt."

"I know, I know," you're trying to shush him, but he's still muttering under his breath. False promises that neither of you believes, "but you're hurt. Look at your poor stomach, Rhett."

Your hand wanders to the lower hem of his shirt, gently tugging it up to reveal the abused skin beneath. Once milky white, now a horrific mottling of dark yellows, blues, and purples. That protective vest bore the brunt of most of it, but gear can only do so much.

Rhett's shaking hands reach for yours, pushing them away, "I can...keep my clothes on?" Already beginning to tug his shirt back down, concealing those bruises once more, "You don't have to...you don't have to see..."

"Baby..." is that what this is about? What his body looks like? "That's not..."

You don't know how to finish your sentence.

Rhett's never been good with words. Might not fully understand, even if you handcraft a poem on the spot meant just for him. But maybe, he'll hear you if you voice your thoughts with more than just words...

The mattress squeaks as you begin to move, gingerly swinging your leg over to straddle his thighs. Not sure if his beaten hips can handle any pressure on them, as you lean forward to press your lips to his clothed chest. Working your way up to his open mouth.

"I know you're not fond of them, but I love these lips of yours," you only allow him one kiss because he'll shut you up if you allow him anything more. "And I love seeing them swell after I've given you too many kisses."

Oh, and it's hard to miss those eyes, the way they widen a little, catching onto what you're doing. "And I love these eyes of yours, how they can go from bright blue to nearly black with the simplest change in lighting," his gaze darts away, shy, "you don't speak a lot, but your eyes are always talking. "

Your fingertip runs across his bottom lip, watching how his tongue daringly darts out to lick the pad of it. Leaves a thin, glistening trail as you trace toward his lower jaw, stroking past three-day-old scruff to find the pale white line of a scar, courtesy of a bar fight. "And this old scar, from when we first met..." pausing to stroke down his neck, finding a matching mark beneath his chin, "this one, too..."

"I have a scar there?" He's reaching up, rubbing where your finger rests.

Humming, you press a kiss to each minuscule mark, fingers running along the sides of his neck as you work your way to the soft space beneath his ear. "And the noise you make when I suck on the skin here," pressing your lips there, pleased to hear that involuntary gasp as you apply a little suction, "is worth its weight in gold."

"You don't...you don't have to do this..." his voice vibrates against your mouth, some deep rumbling that could put you to sleep on the spot.

"I know," beginning to work your way down now, popping open the buttons of this soft, pearl-snap flannel that he loves so much, "but I want to."

The final button comes loose, breaking away to expose his wonderfully pale chest, remarkably soft for a cowboy. Skin like silk beneath your palms, roaming over the broad expanse of him. Thumbs drifting overtop sensitive, dusky pink nipples on their way to trace up his ticklish sides. He's too sore for his back to arch off the back, but oh, does he try.

"And this scar, too..." pressing kisses to the prominent, raised skin near the meet of his left shoulder, beneath his collarbone, "I wasn't there to see it, but you've told me the story so many times that I feel like I was."

Now you're working across, tongue trailing until you can lave over the black ink that occupies the right side of his chest. "And this tattoo you got when you were sixteen, using the fake ID that you still carry in your wallet," the lines are no longer crisp, but you wouldn't have it any other way, "You tell me you hate it, but it just goes to show how dedicated you can be when your heart is in it."

Rhett's breathing shifts, deepening as you work lower; already knows where your mouth is going.

"Then there are these cute little nipples," spiraling around the little nub with your tongue, right hand working his other one in perfect synchrony. Feeling them roll against your touch, drinking in the whimper that he can't swallow down. "Always so sensitive for me."

Your assault only stops long enough for you to switch sides, working the right one with the same enthusiasm as the first. A simple thing that has Rhett bracing his hand on your bicep. Needs something to hang onto that isn't the comforter.

When you pull away, inspecting your handiwork, you're more than pleased to find that pale pink has blossomed into bright red. Just as swollen and wet as his lips.

Again, you're moving. Never in one place for too long, working your way down his bruised belly. Pressing feather-light kisses to each and every mark that mar his flesh; maybe if you pepper enough to them, they'll heal faster. All the while unclasping his buckle and tugging the zipper down.

"Can you lift your hips for me?" Hooking your fingers into his waistband as you ask.

His hips lift, shaky as you pull his jeans and boxers down all in one go; hardly has the strength to let you get the material past his ass. But then you're tugging it down his legs, and he's collapsing against the mattress with a pained grunt. Chest heaving with the effort.

As soon as those jeans hit the floor, you're pressing your mouth to the inside of his ankle, overtop a darkened bruise; you're not sure how Perry gave him this, and you don't think you want the answer, either.

Traveling up again, following the dots of four mosquito bites that trail up to his knee, licking the trail of a series of stretch marks that lead you all the way up to his inner thigh. These soft, plush thighs that so few have had the pleasure of seeing.

"I love these thighs," your words muffled because you can't bring your mouth away from them for more than a second. "They fit so nicely in my hands, perfect to squeeze." He squirms as you suck darkened marks into that pale flesh, soothing them with your tongue. Working your way up to where his cock twitches against his lower belly, needy.

But you've got a few more pit stops to make first.

Namely, these hips. Boney and a little sharp. There's a bruise on his left one, not from Perry, not from the hooves of a bull, but from the edge of your kitchen counter. He's been smacking into it so long that it's become a customary thing.

"And your hips," gripping them in your hands, feeling them writhe, because he'd rather your tongue trace away from his hip and closer to somewhere else. "I love getting to sneak up behind you and grab them, even when you roll your eyes like you are now."

Rhett freezes at that.

A creature of habit, he is.

"The dimples in your spine, right above your cute ass that you always struggle to get into your jeans," you can't pepper those spots with attention, not right now, but you'll get to another day. For now, you're very happy with tracing your nails up his thighs, watching him wriggle once more. "You're lucky I can't make you roll over, Abbott."

He's quiet as you move over to his arm, paying your attention to the thick muscle that you've drooled over more times than you can count, "I love your biceps, even if you think they're not as big as you want them to be."

"And I love your forearms, so strong, even when they don't need to be," It's trying to move, trying to stroke your shoulder, a little difficult for you to lower your head, but you make it work. "And this tattoo you impulsively got three days before you met me." The wound there doesn't look as bad now that it's had a day to heal. A perfect slice through the ink that almost looks intentional.

But you're not done, "And these veins..." tongue poking past your lips once more, tracing over them, "so easy to trace and get you riled up."

His knuckles brush against your cheek, lightly stroking. The back of his hand right there for you to nip at, lazily soothing over with your mouth after. "I love these hands of yours, calloused and worn beyond their years," Don't care that you're getting a little carried away as you lick up his fingers. "Tough enough to hold onto a bull, yet always so gentle when you touch me with them."

As you wonder about what part of him you should lavish with attention next, your eyes flick up.

Oh, that's not what you expected at all.

His eyes glassy and wide, thin trails of tears shining on his cheeks, mouth opening and closing, wrapping around the shapes of words but unable to voice them. The same word over and over, so familiar...

"And you, Rhett," rising again as you speak, taking his wet cheeks into your hands, warm beneath your touch, "the sweetest cowboy I could have ever met, with the biggest heart I've ever seen." "There aren't enough words in the English language to depict just how much I love you."

Your name tumbles out of him. Hardly a whisper, voice cracking, wavering.

That's the only thing he can say as his arms wind around you and pull your body against his, burying his face within the crook of your shoulder. A sob rattles out of him, but it's different compared to the ones you've been hearing as of late.

"I love you," he murmurs into your collar, vibrating up your neck, "I love you."

You only mean to shift your weight, unintentionally brushing your thigh between his legs and Rhett whines.

As he lays back against the mattress, and your noses press together, peering back into one another's eyes, you reach down. Finally, finally, wrapping your palm around his dripping cock. Hard as can be, the tip glistening in the light as you loosely stroke him.

"Is that what you were wanting, cowboy?" Your answer comes in the form of him reaching toward the bedside table, getting ahold of the new bottle of lube sitting atop it. So new that you have to stop and remove the plastic from it before you can properly slick him up.

His hips rise off the bed, needily chasing your touch, the sweet whimper in his throat dancing with the wet sounds of the lube. Always so responsive for you, and you've hardly done anything to him.

"Hah, that..." Rhett's eyes screw shut, head bobbing from side to side, as your thumb polishes over his head, working over the slit and all. "But...you."

"You don't need to worry about me," on its own, your mind darts to what lurks in the box next to your bed. Plenty of things to play with. "I don't wanna hurt you, remember?"

Rhett's not having it. Bottom lip pouting. "But it feels better when I know you're feelin' good, too," His voice high, breathy, "Please?"

He could sell you on a one-way ticket to the moon if he really wanted to.

He must know he's convinced you, too, because he's already pulling your shirt over your head. Hands roaming up your sides, cupping your breasts in his big palms, still wet from your ventures with your tongue. Then go your pants, joining Rhett's on the floor with the quietest noise.

"Now, what if I really do hurt you?" Your palm runs over his belly, watching how he tenses despite your feather-light touch. So, so sore. Bound to be worse in the morning.

His left-hand trembles as he drizzles lube onto his fingers; it should be resting in his sling like the doctor ordered, but between the walk from the truck to the house, he's wriggled out of it. "Ain't too worried 'bout that."

"But—"

Wet fingers slip between your folds, lazily pausing to stroke your clit on their way to their destination. "If I can ride a bull, y'sure as hell can ride me."

Stubborn to the damn end.

And you want to complain. Never let him hear the end of how you don't want to hurt him. But two of those wicked fingers of his are pushing into you without the slightest warning, and your higher thinking vanishes within an instant. Stolen away by the drag of calloused fingertips, has you shuddering before they've even passed the second knuckle.

A chuckle bubbles out of Rhett's chest, darkened eyes glinting; he knows what he's doing. Grinning to himself as he begins to those fingers of his in and out of you, eyelashes fluttering when you clench around them.

Your attention darts to his neglected cock, laying haphazardly against his belly, precum spilling out of his tip like a leaky faucet. Perfect to reach for and torment, sliding your thumb over his cock head, spreading it around him.

Rhett's hips jerk, a breath bursting out of him, "St—hah, stop that."

One little touch, and he's twitching in your hand. It's only been a week since the last time. Is he that sensitive already?

Those fingers of his twist, cooking to drive against something that has your thighs quivering, letting go of his cock to brace yourself against the bed. Damn it, damn it, damn it.

"Alright," reaching down, you take hold of his wrist and pull him out of you. Disappointed by the loss of his fingers, even though you know you'll get something better in just a moment. "But just remember, this was your idea."

"I know it," Rhett's good hand rises to settle on your hip as you move to straddle him. Contentedly rubbing the skin there as you take hold of him once more, guiding his leaking tip between your folds.

And who's to stop you from lazily rubbing him against your clit, gentle spirals that makes your fingertips tingle. It's hard telling if Rhett moans first or if it's you all along, gasping together like it's all you know how to do.

"Fuck," muttering under his breath, peering up at you from beneath thick lashes. "That's...different..."

Your hand twitches. Pulls him back far enough to catch on your entrance. Ends your fun too soon, but the delicious pressure of him against you is too good to miss. With a shaky breath, you sink down on him, eyes falling shut at the stretch of him.

Rhett's panting like a dog beneath you, the hand on your hip growing loose as you slowly but surely take him. God, he's so thick, and it's not fair. Stretching you wide, his plush head dragging against the walls of your cunt. So hard to relax when he seems to fill you completely, bordering the line between a perfect fit and a little too much.

His hip bones press into your ass as you bottom out. Your chest heaving, heart pounding in your chest. Think you can feel him throbbing inside of you, subtle little pulses of his cock that make you jolt.

"Are you alright?" You ask. Struggling to open your eyes.

Rhett's hand rises, smoothing up your waist and settling on your breast, pressing his palm against it. "Think I outta be askin' you that, darlin'."

You're more than alright.

Carefully, you lean forward, bracing one hand on the mattress, the other on his heaving chest, steering clear of his bruises. On its own, your thumb flicks over his nipple, gasping when he jolts up into you.

"Y'gotta leave those alone," he fusses, but he doesn't stop you from craning your neck to suck on one of them. Worrying the hardening bud between your teeth, listening to him whine at the attention, only letting go once it's begun to swell once more.

Before he can open his mouth again, you begin to move.

Raising yourself up, feeling him twitch inside of you, then sinking right back down. Starting shallow, for his sake more than your own. Breathing out a silent noise as you feel him move inside of you, thick length massaging against a particular bundle of nerves within you, without the slightest effort.

"Fuck, fuck, you're tight," he whimpers, eyes barely open as he peers up at you, hair spread out beneath his head in a messy halo. "Baby, baby..."

"Is that what you were needing, cowboy?" Teasing, not bothering to fight the noises he's working out of you. Feeling those devilish hips swivel. The best he can do.

And those lewd little noises are spilling out of him like a waterfall. Whimpers carried to your ears by his short, quickened breaths, "uhuh."

Drawing yourself up quicker now, settling into a comfortable rhythm that lets you feel the drag of his cock head inside of your pussy. Filling you impossibly well, so deep that you're not sure how he fits.

"Can feel you flutterin' round me," his voice gravelly, absolutely hypnotized by the way your body moves on top of him. Even that shaky left hand is rising, settling on your thigh, needs to feel your muscles flex with your motions.

On your own, you clamp down around him; almost regret it because the noise he makes sends something stirring to life within you. Warm. Familiar.

"Again," Rhett babbles, head rolling side to side, "please—please, do that again."

Your thighs are beginning to ache, forces your pace to fall into something shallower as you squeeze down around him once more. Oh, oh, oh, how he jerks up into you at that. Rips a surprised cry out of you as his hips come off the mattress, slamming into you.

"Fuck, Rhett," your eyes bursting open; don't remember closing them.

"'M already close," his voice an octave higher, words punctuated by the smack of skin on skin. Biting on his lips, trying to swallow down those noises you're working out of him.

Your hand trembles as it rises to pull his lip free of his teeth, replacing it with your thumb. That short, hot tongue swirls around on it, lazily sucking on it, eyes falling shut. So, so focused. "You gonna cum for me, cowboy?"

He can't speak, too busy with your finger, can only nod and hum. It's easy, pressing down on his tongue, pinning it down if only to feel it writhe.

"Come on, sweet boy," you're cooing, urging him on, fighting to keep yourself going. He's already twitching in you. Little jerks of his cock that always bubble to the surface when he's close. "Cum."

Those pretty blue eyes roll back into his head. And with the quitest sob, he cums.

Muscles flexing as he jolts up into you, back arching despite it all, the hand on your thigh squeezing tight. A familiar heat fills you. Ropes of sticky, hot cum, pumping inside, already beginning to spill out as you ride him through it. Gradually slowing, pulling your thumb from his slackened mouth, watching him spin back down from the clouds.

"Keep," he's interrupted by a desperate gasp for air. "Keep goin'."

Well, that's new. "Are you sure?" Because you can already feel him beginning to soften inside of you, spent.

"Wanna feel you cum 'round me," pleading like his life depends on it, voice gone raspy, "Please, please, please."

Something about the way he says it stirs something to life within you. Ache in your thighs seeming to disappear as you begin to move once more, too distracted by the way he reaches down, pressing rough fingers to your sensitive clit. Regaining your rhythm once more, dizzied by the delicious thickness of him inside of you. Sickeningly loud squelch be damned.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," babbling under his breath, Rhett's fighting to keep his eyes open. Hungry gaze eating up the sight of you, using him for your own pleasure.

"Good boy," leaning back, savoring how he's twitching in your pussy, already beginning to harden once more, "hang on for me."

And Rhett's shaking. His muscles tremoring as heat blooms between your legs, thumb struggling to spiral around your swollen clit, shaking too damn hard to stay steady. Downright vibrating. His thighs spasm beneath you, whimpering high in his throat, and he sounds so, so pretty like that. Looks it too.

Just the sight of him has you clenching around him like a vice, head beginning to spin. Rhythm faltering as you all but chase the heat starting to spread between your legs, spurred on by his trembling thumb and the drag of his plush head against the inside of you. Skin prickling. Close, close, close.

His hips jolt up on their own. Once. Twice. And you're gone.

A silent noise stumbling out of you as your eyes screw shut. Body freezing. Pulsing around him as your orgasm washes over you like a ton of bricks. Distantly aware that you're falling forward. Head coming to rest against his collar. Stars dancing beneath your eyelids. A dull tingling in your limbs.

Rhett's hips jolt one more time. Short. Jerky. And you're distantly aware that he's cumming again.

You wonder if this is how it feels to take a hard fall off a bull. A brief blankness in memory, followed by the slow opening of eyes. Barely able to recall where you are before the ache in your thighs comes knocking at the door.

"Don't..." Rhett whispers, lips tickling your ear, "Don't move...just for a minute."

You're glad that he asked because you don't think you can move. "Can I convince you on a bath and a movie?" Because if you two stay on this bed for too long, you'll have to rewash this comforter.

"Will you get in with me?" And if you thought his lips tickled, then his hot breath is a different monster entirely.

"Of course, I will," pressing a kiss to his collar before finishing your sentence. "Whatever you want, cowboy." And it seems you may have left him a few hickeys because you don't recall him having bruises here.

"Whatever I want?" And you can hear the cocky grin in his voice.

God, why did you ever tell him that? "...that's what I said."

He seems to think for a minute. Looking for something that will truly test your resolve, simply to see if you're true to your word. "Then d'you think you can put that sling back on me after?" How dare he sound so shy, with his softening dick still in you. "Shits startin' to hurt."

"Where did you put it?"

"I haven't the slightest clue."

How you wind up finding it hanging off the top of the refrigerator is anyone's guess.

Thunk.

"Shit!" Rhett's voice echoes from the kitchen; you don't need to think to know what just happened. "Fuck this fucking—I'm not gonna miss this damn counter!"

The landlord is gonna shave some funds off your deposit for the dent your poor cowboy has put into that tabletop. That you know for sure.

"Consider it a parting gift," you chirp, scooping up the last of your boxes. Picture frames, delicately wrapped in old newspaper and towels.

When you'd moved into this house, you had a grand total of ten boxes. Hardly anything to your name, other than essentials you'd scrapped up from yard sales and big box store sales. Just little old you in a big house that's seen more life than you could have ever hoped to live

But now, as you finally, finally move out of this century-old place, you've got more boxes than you can count. Cookware, throw pillows, knick-knacks brought to you by a cowboy who didn't know how to court you. Stacks of DVDs and CDs, a stuffed bull bought at a rodeo, plaid curtains and blankets, memories galore.

Rhett's lingering by the door. Big hands reaching out to take the box from you; it's not heavy, but you've given up on bickering about who can carry what.

His gaze is heavy, falling to focus on the box. Index finger tapping on the cardboard, in its own uneasy tune.

"You alright?" You chirp, surprised by how your voice carries in this house now that it's completely empty.

His boot taps the ground. If you were outside, he'd be kicking the dirt. "Are you really sure you want a home with me in it?"

The hardwood squeaks beneath your feet as you step forward, crouching to catch his eye. They lock with yours, following as you rise once more. "I can't imagine a house without you in it, cowboy," licking the pad of your thumb, wiping away a streak of dirt from his cheek. "Even if you do try to distract me with kisses, so you can steal cookie dough off the tray."

His gaze falls again. The tips of his ears go red, smiling to himself like it's your first date all over again.

Your hands squish his cheeks. They've gotten a touch thicker now that he's exchanged bull riding for lazy nights on the couch with you. And they're perfect. "What are you?"

His eyelashes flutter. Mouth opening, then closing, only to open again. "Worth it." And then he's twisting his head to bite your thumb and darting out the open door. Tripping over his own feet as you come after him. Giggling, yelling his futile, I'm sorry's, despite provoking this all on his own.

Yeah, you're glad you picked this cowboy.

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