Hi! I Heard That You’re Taking In Requests! May I Ask For A Reader Who Was Kidnapped By Scaramouche?

Hi! I heard that you’re taking in requests! May I ask for a reader who was kidnapped by scaramouche? She was socially isolated to the point stolkholm syndrome kicks in for reader? 🚶🏼‍♀️

Hi! I Heard That You’re Taking In Requests! May I Ask For A Reader Who Was Kidnapped By Scaramouche?

summary. socially isolated darling who develops stolkholm syndrome for scaramouche

warnings. general yandere themes, stockholm syndrome, social isolation, breif descriptions of injury, emotional manipulattion/abuse, scara calls you a slut once.

Hi! I Heard That You’re Taking In Requests! May I Ask For A Reader Who Was Kidnapped By Scaramouche?

you had been so stupid. so naive to think that scaramouche wouldn't find out about your little fling with one of the fatui lackeys that worked for him. it was risky to even allow feelings to fester for another person, but someone who worked for scaramouche? that was just dangerous. you should've known better.

but, honestly, it couldn't have been helped. he was the one sent to your room after punishments that left you needing medical attention. he was so soft and caring when wrapping bandages around you or applying ointment to heal electrical burns. he talked to you gently and made sure you were okay. he was there for you in a time of need, and you were able to find comfort and safety in him. it was inevitable that feelings would form between the two of you.

it was an accident that scaramouche found out. you don't really know exactly what happened, but you do know that he found out by overhearing his lackeys teasing you're secret lover about his crush on you.

scaramouche was livid. he came into your room, grabbing you roughly and dragging you out. you were scared as you fumbled to keep up with his fast paced steps, but you didn't struggle against him or say anything. you didn't know where you were going until he tossed you onto the hard, cold ground of a cell.

"if you want to be a slut so baddly, then i'll just have to fucking keep you locked up where you'll never see anyone but me ever again." he told you before slamming the door and leaving you there all alone.

you thought he would let you out eventually, but it's been two months since then. it was okay at first, you actually even enjoyed the silence and alone time. but after a while it scared you. you didn't like being alone anymore, and it didn't help that the cell he kept you in was dark and cold, which only made you feel more scared and alone.

right now you were laying in bed, clutching tightly onto the sheets that you held over your head. it had been at least an hour since you've been trying to fall asleep, but no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn't. you felt like you were going to throw up because of how tired you felt. you were so miserable.

you breath hitched when you suddenly heard the door to your cell creak open, an uncomfortable feeling settling in your stomach when the eerie noise filled your ears. you didn't move, or say anything, just simply layed there, waiting for what would happen.

sometimes he'd come down here to drop off food and the he'd leave, other times he would linger to berate you in some way. you didn't like how cold he was towards you during your time down here, it made you feel so small and helpless, and it just reminded you how badly of a situation you got yourself into — how badly you fucked up.

"y/n." he called, voice cold and emotionless. you didn't answer, merely pulling the sheet tighter around your form. he took that as an opportunity to continue, though.

"you want out, don't you?" you shifted, lifting the sheet only enough to see him standing a little ways from the bed, but you remained quiet. you watched as he walked to where a chair was in the cell and he sat down, leaning back and crossing his arms against his chest. he then looked at you, making you pull the sheet back down to cover yourself.

"just admit that i'm all you need, all that you want, and you can come out." he said, amused.

you held your breath as you contemplate his words, unsure of what to do. you're afraid of admitting he's right — because he is, you do need him, you depend on him, really, but you don't know how to feel about that yet and it scares you to think about it. but then again, you hate it down here, you hate it so much it makes you want to cry just thinking about staying here any longer.

scaramouche takes your long silence as refusal, because before you can muster up something to say, he begins to leave. clicking his tongue, he mutters a 'fine' as he stands from the chair and starts walks towards your cell door.

"wait." you whispered meekly, just barely loud enough for him to hear. "pl—lease... don't leave me here al—lone again."

you couldn't look at him, too ashamed that you finally succumbed to him. but you were so scared, you didn't like being alone and he was here, with you, willing to comfort you and finally let you out of this suffocating cell. you didn't really have a choice but to accept that he really is all that you have or you'd be left down here alone again.

when you think about it, he's really not all that bad. it's just when you upset him that things get scary for you. otherwise he cares about you, makes sure you're okay and well, and he can also be sweet. he'll gently kiss you, call you sweet little nicknames and simply hold you tightly in his arms. he's attractive too, you cannot deny that.

you don't have to keep resisting him, you think. it's pointless and only ends in painful punishments that make you end up regretting you ever defied him. it's okay to give in to him and accept that you're his, you tell yourself reassuringly.

"oh?" he sounded mockingly, turning around to look at your pathetic form that was shivering under the thin sheet. "finally come to our senses, have we?" you flick your eye up to look at him momentarily, and he's smirking down at you like he'd finally won — which technically, he has.

you quickly look away, nodding your head ever so slightly. "please." you hesitate for a moment, tears welling in your eyes as you swallow thickly. "I–I need yo–you."

you don't hear him say anything after that, only the creaking of your cell door closing. you don't look up to see if he left, you just assume that he did.

a whimper escapes your quivering lips and you grip tightly onto the sheets of the matress where you lay. too busy wrapped in the fear of being alone, you don't notice light footsteps walking towards you.

you flinch when a calloused hand touches your cheek, the gentle stroke of a thumb lulling you back into comfort. you look up and see scaramouche sitting crouched in front of you, a soft, barely there smile displayed on his lips.

"shh, sweetheart. there's no need to cry, i'm right here."

Hi! I Heard That You’re Taking In Requests! May I Ask For A Reader Who Was Kidnapped By Scaramouche?

More Posts from Cxsmosnaut and Others

2 years ago
✧˖*°࿐ “COULD I…HELP YOU?”

✧˖*°࿐ “COULD I…HELP YOU?”

… in which the genshin hybrids maybe, possibly let you help with their heats/ruts

FEATURING: gorou, tighnari, & yae miko.

WARNINGS: afab reader; do you consider eating yae out at the shrine sacrilege because if so then uh. um. scratches my neck awkwardly

NOTE/S: hey! i’m new and i eat requests UP. if u enjoy my work, pls leave a request and i’ll see if i can do it!

✧˖*°࿐ “COULD I…HELP YOU?”

— GOROU

✧ He tries not to mention it to you. Key word; tries. More often than not he’s dealt with his…biological problems…during combat, and when you are leading an entire rebellion, getting off probably isn’t your top concern. Is it annoying? Yes. Does it make him irritable and short-tempered and want to commit violent crimes against the nation? Also yes. He goes absolutely apeshit insane during the worst of his cycle and chances are if you happen to be on the front lines with him you’ll see him lose his goddamn mind because while he may be a very high-ranking general he is also a bitch to the biological system and, archons, the frustration he has to otherwise ignore gets fueled into his job. he commits war crimes against the state

✧ That is, of course, until you. You are now a new factor in his life and considering that you’re not only fighting beside him but also more often than not sleeping over in his tent, bringing him food after he returns to camp, or doing who-knows-what-else, you’re bound to find out one way or another. His leading fear is that you’ll have a rather rude awakening to his issue after arriving at his tent a little too late and finding him trying to sleep, trying, because he doesn’t get much of that anymore between war and also hormones, but he’s afraid you’ll be a little too late and instead of him sleeping you’ll find him halfway curled over himself with his tortured dick slick in his hands and fierce red bleeding over his face as he tries to sate the carnal urge seething in his loins.

✧ He eventually tells you, sort of; he brings you in well before his cycle starts and tells you, as calmly as he can manage, that you should stay away from his tent because the coming week is going to be hard for him. You misunderstand, initially, and immediately start reassuring him that if the resistance is running low on supplies or rations or defenses you’ll go out no problem to provide assistance. This then leads to him having to explain that no, this isn’t anything to do with the resistance, it’s a…it’s a biological problem, and it makes me…frustrated, it frustrates me, and I don’t think I could live with myself if you got caught in the crossfire. He’s really trying not to stumble over his words — this is incredibly embarrassing, incredibly, like, tail-trying-to-tuck embarrassing — but he’s doing his best, and what more could you ask?

✧ You’re not stupid. Biological problems making him frustrated to the point of not being able to see you? He’s dancing around the whole core of the thing and so you half-laugh and look at him and his slumping ears and semi-tucked tail and rose-tinted cheeks and ask him, point blank, if he’s trying to explain rut. He seems almost scandalized by you putting it so simply, but with a whiny groan and guiltily-closing eyes he nods and affirms your suspicions. Now he’s trying to excuse himself; it’s not a big deal, I’ll be fine, I just…it would be best for you to stay away, stay away while I’m dealing with it, but you’re not having it. Obviously, he’s used to dealing with his primal side on his own, but now he has you; perhaps your clear-thinking, never-having-dealt-with-a-rut conscience is what makes you wait for him to finish rushing through his panicked monologue before you step forward, take his hand in yours, and ask if it would be a better idea for him to just…get it out of his system. You know, for the efforts of the resistance and all. It can’t be good to have General Top Dog Gorou not completely focused on the fight, right? So maybe he should just…you know, let you spend the night this coming week and just let his biological problem run its course. You know, for the resistance.

At this point, you aren’t sure whether the damp spot under your cheek is from spit or tears. You can’t exactly check either; it’s like your muscles aren’t listening to you anymore. They’re so rigid it hurts, so stiff you can’t move unless you want to lose what little composure you have left. You’re hot, so hot; despite being clothed in what are now torn-up, ragged shreds of fabric, you feel stifled, overheated; it’s not coming from your surroundings, but rather, your gut, from somewhere deep in your gut, the same place that’s making every muscle go stiff and your legs practically vibrate and your eyes roll back and oh, please, the same place that Gorou keeps hitting, blunt tip spearing up against and hammering into overdrive.

The thought swirls hazily in your head for half a second before you feel hard, slick length pull out of you, bump heavily against the back of your thigh before you hear a shuffle and then a hot tongue is prodding at your sobbing hole, carving searing lines through the thick glaze of spit, pre, and arousal coating the hot space between your legs and flooding over to the insides of your thighs. It’s been like this for so long, so long — you’ve lost track of time. You force a rolled-back eye to come forward; you gaze blearily at the ceiling of the tent, try to find the glow of the moon but it’s no use, not when everything is blurred together with tears and the world feels like it’s spinning and—

Gorou whines between your legs, laps up the arousal your cunt is all but drooling out by this point. His face is glued to you; a broken, absent consideration for whatever little things he’s got in here crosses through your mind as you hear the telltale whisk of fur on tent.

You’re leaning your hips back, ready this time when he mounts back up behind you. Both hands grope around your hips, claw at the seams of your thighs and finally find purchase quite literally on the hill of your pelvis. His chest lays up on your back; he’s burning up, skin on fire as his canines latch onto your ear and his breath threatens to burn your cheek. He doesn’t speak; he can’t, you don’t think, vocabulary reduced to a handful of pants, moans, and breathy half-words, slurred “m’gon, m’gonna, hol’n” as his stiff cockhead prods through your slit and nudges back into the sopping warmth of your cunt. Something clatters to the floor; if the rhythmic, quickening thump of his tail furiously hitting the floor in tandem with his pistoning hips, he’s close, again. How many times had he already? Four? Five, maybe? He’s still going at it as hard as he had in the start; the only indicator that his stamina is lessening is how sloppy he’s getting with his motions. He’s constantly groping around for a hold on your slick skin despite having found one immediately when this all first started; his breathing has steadily grown more labored, and you can feel saliva soaking down your neck as his teeth find purchase beside your nape and he bites down, some last effort to anchor himself as his hips twitch and a fresh rope of heat spills out against that spot deep in your gut.

— TIGHNARI

✧ Much unlike the aforementioned general, his methods of dealing with his rut are…indulgent. He knows better than anyone what the rut is and why it does what it does and how to best work with it. The other researches know this; they know that sometimes, for no apparent reason at all, he writes up a whole patrol schedule for the next several days and sends himself out on the further ones; he’ll disappear for days at a time, often excusing himself with reasoning along the lines of studying the forest over a period of days to ensure that the Withering isn’t rearing its head, or that he wants to record the state of certain formerly-affected plants over a longer section of time. Both are rather normal reasons to be excused for so long; plus, Collei’s got home base under control, and his absences aren’t necessarily unusual. So, it works.

✧ If you pry enough — but wait, Tighnari, we might need you, we’ve got this thing we’re doing…how long will you be gone for? — he’ll explain it to you, and he’ll do so rather eloquently which is wild considering that he’s really just talking about how he gets ridiculously, unbearably horny for a week or so at a time and fucks his hands several dozen times over. He explains it scientifically, simply, and comfortably; he’s casual about what he’s talking about and maybe that’s why you have to do a double take and, as he’s walking out to check on Collei and make sure she’s got things covered, you sort of sputter and turn around and ask if he’s going into rut. He just pauses, looks over his shoulder, and blinks — you feel kind of stupid when he just looks at you and dubiously goes “yes?” Somehow, despite him being the one who’s literally distancing himself so he can masturbate in peace, you feel awkward and exposed. In any case, he just walks away, very casually, to check in on Collei, leaving you to realize that oh, oh, that’s…oh.

✧ When you stop him the night before he leaves — he’s packing a satchel of whatever he needs, you’d guess — you’re the one who’s shifting on your feet and hot in the face as you ask if he needs any help. He just blinks at you, asks what you mean, and flicks an ear when you open your mouth to answer and stammer out something about helping to carry something to his temporary campsite. He says he appreciates the offer but he’s got it managed just fine; plus, he adds, you don’t want to be around someone under (what he calls) animalistic instinct. You don’t quite know how to say that uh, well, haha, funny you say that, because I kind of do, and so you just say you’re worried about him going off on his own. He laughs — he finds that quite endearing — and tells you he’ll be fine. He tells you to go get some sleep; if it’ll make you feel better, he’ll bring you some spoils from the jungle when he gets back, so you can look forward to his return for reasons other than the obvious.

✧ Which, of course, doesn’t work. He disappears the next morning, as expected, but thanks to literally scouting the whole fucking jungle a good bit of adventurer’s expertise you stumble across his camp. Camp, consisting of a hollowed-out tree stump and the starts of a nest constructed from underbrush and reeds. It doesn’t take long to find the fox himself; upon seeing you he’s quick to jump into scolding, to which you literally have to cut him off and say that no, no, you know why he’s here and you’ll leave but also you meant it if he wanted help, like you really meant it, and…

Hands balled into fists, crushing willowy reed-stems in your grasp; to say you’re being drilled into is an understatement. The world had smelled initially like the jungle — damp soil, wild flowers, sweet wood — but now it smells hot, rough, almost wild.

And it’s all because of him.

Breath coming in short, thick half-pant, half-grunts, Tighnari’s chasing refuge from the need exploding through his system; it’s evident in the tendons defined down his neck, the blueish veins starting to stick up under his skin, the sheen of sweat painting his skin a glossy golden-cream. His face tips back; quivering under him, you watch as he groans into the hot, enclosed air of his carved-out camp, watch as he swallows, hard, as if to calm himself down.

Fat chance of that, you manage to think, lifting your head just a little to try a glance at your hips. Your prostrate hips, flat against the jungle floor, legs split apart to leave room for the sharp-eyed hybrid overhead to thrust up into you.

“Is this what you wanted?” His voice is surprisingly steady, considering how hard his hips are rutting and how aggressive the slap of skin on skin has gotten. His voice is aimed down at you; he’s looking down, now, watching your expression change with sardonic eyes. Both tall ears sit almost-flat against his head; he finds you funny, right now, funny even though you’re the one he’s been so desperately fucking into. “Helping me move my stuff, huh?”

You open your mouth to answer and can’t. He knows damn well what you’d meant; he knew it then, too, when he said he’d be just fine on his own. A test to see how far you’d go, perhaps, and one that you’d succeeded. Going on a wild hunt through a jungle to go find him is certainly something, he thinks — and what kind of thanks would it be if he didn’t let you give this whole bitch thing a whirl?

Your breathing breaks as his pace grows quicker; he never falters, not even when you grab on around the small of his back snd dig your nails into the smooth planes of his back. “Gonna,” you gasp, almost voiceless; “gonna, gonna, ‘Nari, gonna…”

Black fur curls against your ankle and trails up your thigh. He finds it funny, how quick you are to break under him; but oh, silly you. Silly, silly you. One round…that won’t do. But you know that, don’t you? That’s why you came out here; to ruin yourself, or to let him ruin you. Isn’t it?

— YAE MIKO

WOMEN. WOMEN RRRRRRAUGH THIS IS MOMMY

✧ If you think anyone is gonna know shit when this woman deals with a heat cycle then you’re wrong. Wrong. Yes, it is very frustrating and yes, she’s well aware of that feeling being there and yes, archons, she’s very poignantly aware that you, her little admirer — she’s poignantly aware that whenever you’re around she finds that feeling getting a little stronger and a little harder to ignore because maybe, maybe she’s a little…a little interested in you, and maybe those comments that sound flirty but you’ve always just chalked up to her being her mean a little more than she lets on, but…no, no. She won’t tell you that. It would be embarrassing and also weird; even Ei doesn’t know about it, and Ei knows most things. She knows her rosy-haired, sly-eyed familiar has taken a liking to you, and she’s mentioned it in brief teasing every now and again — in Ei’s mind, she should really just tell you because human life is short and eternity is damn long — but what she doesn’t know is that hr same rosy-haired, sly-eyed familiar finds somewhere, anywhere — hell, half the time it’s at the shrine where she won’t be bothered — and fucks herself with her hand and pretends it’s you, pretends, and she feels more than slightly foul afterward because she’s doing it at a sacred shrine but archons, screw it, she needs to take care of this or she’ll provoke Ei into another bad decision with her attitude.

✧ Speaking of which; it’s after another casual wander through Inazuma with Ei that you head up to visit her foxy familiar. Much unlike the many times you’ve seen her here before, she’s not in front of that sacred tree; no, she’s staring off into the fenced-off pond, and she looks very far away, like her head’s not all here. Upon calling for her, she seems to come back; she finds your eyes, offers you a charming little smile, and shuffles over as if to make room for you despite her current spot already being separated from the main crowd. Internally, she’s cursing herself for how her heart beats a little harder against her ribs and how the warmth between her legs starts to spread up into her gut, twists around her rationale and puts her world in a haze. Being in the depths of a heat cycle, specifically around you, has her almost scattered; she hears all of your questions well after you ask them and she answers even more delayed than that and so maybe that’s why you’re suddenly so close, trying to get closer to her face with your expression wrought and eyes worried as you ask if she’s feeling alright.

✧ She should push you away. She should, really, because you’re so warm, and you smell so nice and sweet and you look so pretty and untouched and — no, no, she should push you away, but she can’t. She’ll hide it under some smooth, late remark — I’m feeling fine; is this just an excuse to get closer to me? — but the little voice in her head is screaming at her to grab you by the nape and drag you off to a quiet, hidden corner and wreck you because you’re hers, hers, her sweet thing, hers…

✧ You don’t look alright. Have you been sleeping enough? Oh, ever-so-innocent, ever-so-sweet you, concerned suddenly that maybe the thin mountain air has gotten her sick as you press your palm to her forehead to see and — you’re burning up, you’re actually burning up, we need…do you have medicine? I’m not sure if familiars carry medicine, but we can head down to the village…no, no, I’ll head down, you stay here and I’ll bring something back for you, or…

✧ She finally manages a no. No, she doesn’t need medicine; trying to manage to keep her voice from dropping, she gives you the simple explanation of this happens sometimes and medicine won’t do anything about it, and you’re kind of confused because does she mean her period? do fox familiars get periods? when fox familiars get periods do they suddenly burn up like they’ve got a bad fever? but then you realize fox and oh, oh, you think you get it now. It must be evident on your face; oh, you say, face going hot, oh, sorry, I…do you need anything? I can leave you alone — sorry, I didn’t know, this is probably a bad time… but she’s just looking at you, now, and you don’t quite know what to do before you feel hot fingers wrap around your wrist and nails poke your skin. She’s trying to keep up the act; are you asking to help? she manages, suave tone just slightly shaky, and you’re sort of left sitting there dealing with the moral question of whether or not fucking the Electro Archon’s familiar is something you’ll get tit-sword’d for but ultimately, looking at slightly-heaving Miko with her eyes almost glowing and her skin starting to burn yours and oh, is that a blush you’re seeing? you decide that maybe getting tit-sword’d is worth it.

For being such a smooth talker, Yae Miko is awfully messy when it comes to sex. At least, this kind of sex. The sex where she’s dragged you rather hurriedly and rather unceremoniously behind one of the buildings atop the shrine, practically shoved you up against the wooden wall and swallowed any complaints or remarks you may have had about the manner between her lips. Dominant, yes — but messy. Messy, in the way her mouth can’t seem to stay on yours and instead slips off, wets the corners of your mouth and down under your jaw when you try and fail to gasp for breath. Messy, in the way that her hands are immediately moving; one raking down your spine, the other digging into your nape, and then both to your sides, and then one up under your blouse to tear apart the buttons and get a handful of your chest. Messy, in the way that despite her heat being at its worst, especially being neglected for so long, she insists on marking you; you don’t know if the Shogun’s eyes see the shrine but oh, oh, you hope they don’t, because you’re pinned to a wall with her familiar licking and biting and sucking on the soft spots under your jaw so hard that you’re heaving and debating on whether or not it’s okay to wrap your arms behind her head and draw her deeper into you because it feels like fire, it feels like fire on your throat…

“On your knees,” she purrs shakily, breath hot on your neck. “On your knees, get on your knees…you said you’d help me, didn’t you? Be good…listen to me, listen…”

And so, you do. And, really, you shouldn’t be surprised but oh, the way she watches you drop weakly to your knees, land softly in the grass with the wooden wall burning up your back — it’s too much, it’s too much, and your eyes have gone drunken before she can even start to move her clothes, move the pretty white silk out of the way and she’s lowering herself, too, but she really doesn’t have to. She doesn’t have to, because you’re drunk on desire and maybe that’s what gives you the confidence to touch her, wrap a shaky hand around her thigh and stretch up, duck under her dress guys im so sorry it might be a kimono but i actually do not know and i dont want to use the wrong terminology and sound dumb please help and…oh, she smells so sweet, so warm and sweet and—

She swears she sees stars. The long, pitched-tailed moan she lets out is evidence of it; nails scrape along your nape as you tongue at the heat burning fiercely between her thighs, taste thick, sugared arousal on your tongue and groan as you lap for more. She gives you no instructions, no limits, and so you just go all in; you wrap an arm around her waist to steady yourself as you let go of her thigh, reach up with your now-free hand and spread slick, soaked folds apart to get on the source. Her breathing is labored; you can feel her pulse stuttering when the tip of your tongue finds her pulsing cunt, pushes in only to get tightened on. Something warm and soft brushes the hand behind her back; you’ve seen the ghost of her tail a few times but it sure as fuck feels real now, beating against her thigh as you latch onto the sweet well between her thighs and practically drink the effect of her heat as it dribbles down your chin. Heaven, you’re in heaven, and oh, archons, so is she; the wooden wall behind you groans as she shifts, assumably to rest her weight against it as her thighs steady against your head and close you off to the outside world.


Tags
2 years ago

Remember that one thirst about scara and Xiao fighting over creator LIKE WE RESPECT NEED AN ACTUAL SMUT ABOUT IT

Authors note: I LOVE this kind of stuff. We need more threesomes in SAGAU.

CW: Jealousy, yandere themes, double penetration, afab reader, gn pronouns, fainting, rough sex, blowjobs, breeding, SAGAU, praise, degradation, attempted aftercare, not proof read

Remember That One Thirst About Scara And Xiao Fighting Over Creator LIKE WE RESPECT NEED AN ACTUAL SMUT

You had just recently introduced the both of them and tried to make them get along. It felt like you were trying to get feral cats to bond. Xiao had been around far longer than Scara, and it bothered him that he had to share you.

When you brought Scaramouche home the first thing Xiao did was grab you. He was in defense mode, why was another man touching you??? He thought for sure you were being brainwashed. Once you explained the situation, Xiao was still furious. How dare you bring home another man, and expect them to “get along”?

You were worried about your sex life with the both of them around. You already had enough issues with Xiao fucking your brains out when another man looked at you. You didn’t think Xiao would be able to watch you kiss Scara without ripping him to shreds. You tried to start out slow, by having them both sleep in the same bed as you. You should have known slow and steady isn’t Scara’s thing. If you constantly insist you can’t to anything with Xiao around, he’ll fuck you in the middle of the night while everyone else is sleeping.

You began to feel guilty for doing all of this without Xiao’s knowledge, so you asked him to participate. When the day finally came that they were both willing to try a threesome, they were as jealous as ever. Both so determined to make you love them by making you cum more than the other.

Xiao desperately gripped at your chin, forcing your lips to connect with his. Loud wet noises echoing through the room as he placed open mouthed kisses against you. Between breaths you could hear him growling and panting repeating “Mine.”

Annoyed at the fact your lips were occupied, Scara made his way to your chest. He didn’t bother taking off your clothes normally. He tore at the fabric, the buttons on your shirt popped apart and revealed your chest to him. He didn’t waste any time before taking your nipple into his mouth. He used his free hand to toy with your other nipple. He lightly bit at your chest earning a muffled scream from you.

Xiao pulled away from your lips with a sigh, he tugged at your underwear frantically. Out of instinct, you tried to cover yourself up with your hands. Scara pulled away from your nipple with a loud pop noise, before holding your hands together above your head. Xiao spat on your clit and rubbed slow circles around it before getting shoved out of the way.

“You’re in my way, move.”

Scara snarled and tried to situate his way in between your thighs. He started with kissing up your thighs in order to tease you. You could feel his hot breath against your heat and it was driving you mad. He slowly dragged his tongue up your folds and pulling away as soon as you reached for more.

“You obviously don’t know what you’re doing. I’ve been serving the creator far longer than you, only I know what they like.”

Xiao tried to move Scara’s face out of the way but he refused to budge. Both of the boys’ cheeks were pressed up against one another, both shoving and pushing trying to get an advantage on tasting you. Their tongues quickly moved all over your pussy, both watching your facial expressions to see which spots made you squeal the most.

Xiao’s pace was aggressive and fast, sucking at your clit with no intentions of stoping until you were screaming. Scara’s pace was painfully slow, it was meant to torture you, and have you rub against him for more. The intense friction had you gripping their hair, trying to pull them off of you.

You tried to close your legs, but they stopped you. Xiao got annoyed at your attempt to halt his movements, so he shoved two fingers in you. He watched as you dug your elbows in the mattress, trying to pull yourself away. It was impossible for you to close your legs, both of their body weight was pressed up against your legs. Once they were satisfied Xiao lined himself up with your entrance, nails piercing your thighs trying to stabilize himself.

Once he made his way into you, his grip loosened. He ran his fingertips over the indents from his nails scattered across your thighs. He stretched you out without warning, his cock separating your gummy walls. No matter how many times you fucked Xiao, he still acted like a virgin. His tongue always rolled out of his mouth at the slightest movements, and he couldn’t stop his eyes from rolling to the back of his head. He was doing his best to ram into your cervix, in hopes that he can pull your attention away from Scara.

Scara harshly dug his fingertips into the softness of your face, looking directly into your eyes. He made sure that no matter how good Xiao made you feel, you couldn’t turn your attention away from him.

“Does he fuck you better that I do?” He asked with a cynical smile on his face.

You stuttered barely able to get out an answer. There was barely any blood left in your head, all of it had rushed to your pussy. You opened your mouth to form an answer but got interrupted by a particularly hard thrust. His eyes narrowed as he began to smirk, he knew you wouldn’t be able to answer.

“Yes- wait- No! I-I don’t know..I can’t….”

He laughed at you, and rubbed the tip of his cock against your bottom lip.

“Wrong answer, doll.”

He applied pressure to your jaw forcing you to open your mouth. He took advantage of the small opening and stuffed his dick as far down your throat as he could. You could barely breathe, the wind was getting knocked out of you with every swing of the boys’ hips. Xiao hitting your cervix repeatedly, while Scara bruised the back of your throat. The feeling was painful but so intoxicating.

“You’re doing a terrible job. Didn’t anyone teach you that your supposed to apply suction during blowjobs?”

As much as you tried you just couldn’t focus on sucking him with the way Xiao was plowing into you. You did your best, but just ending up drooling over him. He grabbed your throat and squeezed it, allowing the area around his cock to tighten. You choked and teared up, pushing against his hips in hopes to have some room to breathe. Xiao grabbed your arms and held them behind your back, using them as a handle to fuck you harder.

Xiao rutted up against you as fast as he could, rapidly chasing his orgasm. He couldn’t be bothered to pull out so he came as deep in you as he could. Scara noticed and demanded they switch positions so he could cum in you too. As soon as Scara got in you, he tried to find the right angle to hit your favorite spot. His cock rubbed up against your fucked out walls and caused you to let out uncontrollable moans.

As much as he wanted to taunt Xiao by railing you into the bed, he just couldn’t. The familiar bubbling feeling in his stomach threatening to leak out of his cock stopped him. He instead switched to long slow strokes, while still trying to go as deep as he could.

“Are you trying to put them to sleep?”

Xiao felt a sense of accomplishment seeing how Scara wasn’t keeping up with his pace. Scaramouche ignored the insult and continued with his slow pace. The contrast between his movements and Xiao’s previous rough pace had you gripping onto him, begging for more. The more he started to get into it, the more he pushed Xiao out of the picture. He grabbed your face and kissed you so Xiao couldn’t use your throat, and always kept his hand on your clit.

Xiao eventually got enraged and man handled you away. He positioned you on top of him and shoved himself back deep inside you. He had you lean up against him so Scara could have access to your hole too. You screamed and grasped at Xiao’s shoulders desperately trying to prepare yourself for the intense stretch.

Neither of the boys thought that you could get any tighter, the feeling of you clenched around them made them go crazy. Scaramouche bounced you up and down, watching as both cocks slid in and out of you. His eyes were fixated on you, and he couldn’t look away. Xiao brushed your hair out of your face and told you how good you were doing, while Scara repeatedly smacked your ass telling you how much of a whore you were. The difference between their words was overwhelming your brain. Both your mind and body were exhausted.

You were already on your nth orgasm, and you could feel your body slowly start to shut down. You passed out, but neither of them noticed. They continued rutting into you with no restraint like wild animals. Soon enough you were dripping cum from all of your holes. Xiao checked your face, only to see you were completely out of it.

Both he and Scara carried you to the shower, one trying to hold you up while the other washed you off. For your sake, both were doing their best to ignore the fact they were still rock hard. You slowly opened your eyes to see the both of them, still naked, arguing over who made you moan more. They were changing the sheets while yelling insults about the others performance. When they noticed you had woken up they helped you over to the newly made bed. You sleepily settled down and tried to pull the covers over you before getting jerked to the left.

Xiao had a death grip on your waist and had no intentions of sharing. Scara grabbed your arm and tried to maneuver your body from Xiao’s grip. It continued all night, you constantly being pulled back and forth, and one of the boys occasionally trying to slip his cock into you again. They often sounded like children arguing over who likes the TV show more. In the middle of the night you’d hear whispering along the lines of

“I swear to celestia if you don’t let me hold them, I won’t hesitate to wipe out Liyue.”

“Know your place, puppet.”

Be prepared to be asked who your favorite is. It doesn’t matter if you tell them you love them equally, they will still try to pry a “real” answer out of you.


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2 years ago
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KAZUHA’S KINKTOBER — OVERSTIM!

TAGS/CONTENT WARNINGS ♡ squirting, dumbification, petnames (baby), dubcon, slight praise ; fem! reader ; minors do not interact.

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kazuha have always think you were too dumb for your own good.

too pliant, too dumb— even right now, when he have you pinned on the ground, your legs loosely wrapping around his hips. fervent breathing fanning against his ears, tickling the side of his face with warm air. you’re still murmuring that same nonsense to him.

“kazuha, can’t no more, s'hurt so b-bad..”

you can’t never have some sense inside of that empty mind of yours, can you? smaller fist than his being put up to his chest, a futile attempt to pushed him away. you can’t feel your bones, weak and limp the moment kazuha pinned it back to the top of your head. maybe you shouldn’t drink so much earlier, but knowing you, you could never turn down kazuha offers.

you never could, even if the pressure makes your head dizzy, your chest tighten, feeling inclined to agree. you never could, and kazuha expect nothing from you. after all, you could never function without having guidance from him. you don’t know any better for yourself, he says— pushing your knees up to your chest and letting his spit fall to your bare cunt, quickly swoop up by the tip of his cock into your entrance. the small huffed puffing your cheeks when he entered inch by inch, groping your tits into his rough palm with shaky breathe.

“make it quick, please? c-can’t cum no more after this,”

that’s what you said earlier too, when he have you bend over while he fucked you from behind, when he have you squirting all over the bed, gripping the sheet to ease the incoming pain from his cock rubbing inside of your sensitive walls. and yet, you’re still drooling on his cock, sobbing from how big he is and how he felt good inside, stuffing you to the brim with cum.

“can my princess take one more? of course, she can. look at this, sucking me in with no shame. you were kidding when you say you have enough, right?”

kazuha know you better than yourself. always have and always will.

KAZUHA’S KINKTOBER — OVERSTIM!

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2 years ago
CAPITANO Rarely Gets Carried Away. As A Harbinger, He Is Well Known For His Prowess In Combat And Petrifying

CAPITANO rarely gets carried away. as a harbinger, he is well known for his prowess in combat and petrifying demeanor. he stands well over seven feet tall — the ominous mask adorning his face not making him look any less intimidating. his gloved hands are so large that he could crush your skull with ease if he felt like it. despite all of this, your lover is never anything but gentle with you. his hugs are soft, strokes on your hair even softer.

and yes, it even transfers into the bedroom. capitano’s touches against your skin barely put pressure against your skin — just enough to let you know he’s still there. never a rushed moment, he takes his time prepping and spoiling you from the moment he lays you back on the bed. as much as you beg him to let you pleasure him, his guttural huffs tell you that he prefers it like this. you tell him it’s okay to be rougher, to be more domineering — but is it really a good idea when his cock is larger than your forearm?

as much of a sucker as he is for you, being rough with you is something that he clearly has a problem with doing. even though a voice in the back of his head is telling him to give in, the rational part is warning him of the consequences of being selfish. you absolutely don’t care — you’re dead set on him touching you as if you’re anything but glass. hours and days of following him around and begging him shamelessly finally pay off. he begrudgingly agrees but tells you that this is what you asked for. you’re so excited by the prospect of something different that you don’t even register his warning.

oh, how you should have.

tattered blankets and the feathers of ruined pillows litter the floor and bed. the bed frame is practically caved in, the beautiful canopy above now crumbling in on itself. and the headboard? completely pulverized under capitano’s monstrous grip. even as your body is screaming for rest, he still hasn’t let up on you. now forgoing the metal mask he usually wears, he’s become a feral creature with a one-track mind. his long, slimy tongue slides itself over every inch of bare skin available to him — saliva coating your upper body and parts of your face.

how many orgasms have you had? what time was it? what day was it? you didn’t have an answer to any one of these questions. you thought that after his first two orgasms that he would be done. hah, how wrong you were. the grip that his clawed hands had on your hips was certainly going to leave many dark bruises the next day. the remains of your bedsheets below were soaked in your release, however many it was after you lost count. you were so deep into overstimulation that tears poured down your burning cheeks to mix with his spit.

it felt like his cock only kept getting bigger and bigger each time he speared it into your poor pussy. the tip hit so deep you swore that you could absolutely feel it in your guts — which wouldn’t be too far off. he seemed so entranced by the feeling of his unhinged dominance, so far gone. no matter how many times you tapped his arm to let him know you couldn’t take it, it went completely ignored. you knew that he wouldn’t stop until he was satisfied, until he had used your body like a fleshlight with no regard for anything else. the feral look in capitano’s eye only served to remind you of the words he spoke before your fate was sealed.

“this is what you asked for.”

CAPITANO Rarely Gets Carried Away. As A Harbinger, He Is Well Known For His Prowess In Combat And Petrifying

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2 years ago

consensual somnophilia w scara?

Sure thing! Fem reader ahead. I was giggling when I wrote this 🤭 900 wc.

Consensual Somnophilia W Scara?
Consensual Somnophilia W Scara?

Yandere scummy Scaramouche who wakes up in a cold sweat, shooting up into a sitting position and trying to steady his, for some reason, very unbalanced breathing. He can feel a deep and hot flush on his cheeks, as well as the slight trembling below his knees— and of course, how could he ignore the way his dick so uncomfortably prods against his now painfully tight underwear. It hurts, a lot— so it’s no surprise how he restlessly shoves the weight of the heavy counterpane off his body and hurriedly pulling the fabric of his boxers down his legs, and lettings his throbbing cock spring out and slump against his abdomen. He silently lets out a small grunt of satisfaction, and even in the dim lighting from the moon that slightly peaks through the blinds, Scaramouche can still, clear as day, see the way his cock twitches happily now that it no longer suffocating in his pants.

Scaramouche brings up his hand and lets it tussle in his messy and unkept hair, pushing away the loose strands that covered his eyes. It’s quiet, the only sound being an occasional wind breeze that flows past the open window, the rustling of the sheets when his toes decide to completely disobey his bodily control and curl at the tension of his antsy erection— and the faint sound of steady and balanced breathing coming from the space beside him. He blinks, and cautiously turns his head to the side where he’s met with the sight of you, laying on your side and so comfortably snuggled under the blankets, seemingly without a single care in this god forsaken world.

You’re still asleep, that’s good, he would just hate for you to awaken with all the consistent fidgeting he’s doing. As silently as he can be, he slowly places his hands onto the area of the mattress behind him, and gets into position to lay back down— this time however, he’s turning onto his side and shimming his way closer to your body, carefully manoeuvring his way under the covers and pressing his slim chest flat up against your back. You just feel so warm and cozy as he wraps his slender arms around your waist, how your hair smells so heavenly when he stuffs his face into the crook of your neck and deeply inhaling, the pattern of your calm and gentle breathing feels so comforting against his front that he can’t help but reach down to spread apart your legs and direct his cock to slid in between your thighs.

His mouth is right up against your ear— but with the way the warm and smooth skin of your thighs squeezes his dick in so tight has him letting out a some what load moan that he couldn’t manage keep down. It just feels so fucking good that he starts rutting his hips against your ass, letting his cock slip in and out of the gap in your legs and rubbing so tenderly against your clothed pussy. He’s genuinely surprised you haven’t woken up due to all the moans he’s whining into your ear, or the way the bed had started to violently creek as he hard started to speed up, but he’s glad either way.

Although Scaramouche absolutely adores having his arms wrapped snugly around your beautiful waist, he lets his hand drop from your hip and clumsily crawl down to your underwear— finally taking note of the lack of clothing you had on— or rather, didn’t have on. No pants? That has him pressing a shambolic and tired kiss onto your neck and smiling so sloppily into your skin. “… thank you, Angel. Thank you so much, always me feel so fucking pleased, so…—” he has to stop his rambling so he can catch his breath. He could feel it, how his thrusts has started to become sloppier, his throat dry and his voice hoarse, he’s not sure if his vision is hazy due to his sudden wave of fatigue, or the fact that there are pleasure tears pooling on the water line of his eyes. One thing he does know is that he’s so close to cumming when he feels his orgasm slowly creeping up his nerves. “… so over the moon.”

What does manage to set him off though, is the way you shift your body in your unconscious state and thrust your hips back into his own, unknowingly matching the pace of his thrusts and clamping your plush thighs acceptingly around his cock. He cracks, a pathetic sob falls from his lips as he squirts his cum all over you and the bed sheets that you sleep so elegantly on. “Oh god… my fucking god…” he knows it will take a while for him to catch his breath, so he just lays behind you and pulls you closer into his embrace, letting his head fall onto your pillow and stuffing his face into your hair. “T-thank you… thank you so much… but I— I can’t… I want— no I…”

“I need more, please…” he’s not sure how the sudden wave of desire had fallen onto him again so suddenly— but as he finds himself once again ramming his aching cock between your thighs like a bunny in heat, he knows this little boost of energy that he had mysteriously acquired just now, would not end any time soon— definitely not with the way you let out cute little whimpers of your own when he reaches down to slide your slightly damp panties, down your legs. “Please— just the tip… I’ll only put the tip in this time, I swear…”


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2 years ago

So I have a lot of brainrots and stuff that I share with my brother but nobody else that I felt like sharing with you. One of them is what if creator!Reader subconsciously ends up sending like... gifts from our world to Teyvat. Like giving them a taste of the things the creator likes or is familiar with and are tailored to the characters who get them, so like Yun Jin, Xinyan, and Venti get access to an interdimensional radio that plays music from Earth, and Albedo gets like science textbooks, and tech that is too advanced for Teyvat and has media would be translated into book form, so cartoons become comics/manga so like Klee gets like a manga version of MLP:FiM and Beidou gets a novel series version of Pirates of the Caribbean... maybe Zhongli gets copies of myths and legends from earth history cause he seems like he'd like that...

Oh my god this is so cool, like, and this is kind of expanding on that in a different form, if reader just happened to look at an everyday object they owned and thought "Huh, you know I bet *insert character here* would find this interesting" then boom, it's transported directly to them (in three to five business days—)

So like the first few times it happens everyone is super confused, I mean, random stuff that they didn't even know existed is suddenly appearing in front of them

As soon as word gets out that your the one doing it, all hell is going to break loose, anything that makes its way from your world to their world is going to be seen as a blessed object, the receiver as someone who has gained your favor

So there's probably going to be ceremonies dedicated to this where everyone tries to get your attention so that you might think of them more (and therefore have a higher probability of you accidentally sending them something that reminds you of them)

Like characters that you would typically only see on character quest or specific storylines are going to be appearing more frequently outside of that, doing anything possible to get you to strike up a conversation so they can keep you there as long as possible

Characters that you already own are going to try their hardest to stay as a part of the main team, a suspicious increase in attack rates, sometimes it looks like the attacks don't even hit them, how suspicious

Suddenly these mostly meaningless things that you wouldn't even glance twice at in your own world become the most important object that person owns, it'll be treasured and displayed and shown off

Since everybody just assumes the more things a person has the more well liked they are, the characters which end up getting a lot from you are going to be both the object of adoration and jealousy, you've successfully placed a target on their backs—

Getting into more specifics, I think it would be so funny if you were reading a modern chemistry or just general science book for your class or job or even just a pass time, and then happened to think of Albedo, because that book would contain knowledge that is so far beyond what they currently know

What they could understand would probably completely blow their minds about the universe and elements and how all of that works

It'll probably be interpreted that you are the one who wrote that btw, you'll be hailed as an absolute genius (as if they didn't already think that), and also incredibly merciful for sharing your wisdom with the rest of them

That's stupid textbook would become the most read and studied book by all of the greatest minds in Teyvat

Of course it is still owned by Albedo, who is incredibly honoured that you would choose to share this with the world through him

And God forbid if you accidentally happened to think of Zhongli while reading a history book—

I could see that turning into a disaster real quick, I mean, everybody is going to learn about the fact that you live in a completely separate world with other people similar to you, and how that world is incredibly cruel and heartless—

It would strengthen their resolve to physically take you away from there

Of course, that does all hinge on the notion that Zhongli would let anybody else even touch that book, which is a little far fetched

I imagine mythology books would be a much safer bet, but there's always a chance that those could be taken as actual history books to so—

I could imagine Venti getting modern instruments, books of poetry perhaps, and I think the funniest would be some kind of iPod, or any other type of music storing device that runs on battery power

Because imagine it, they don't really have anything like that there, so it would take a bit of trial and error to even figure out what it is and how to use it, then he suddenly learns that it's used to play music (which is just so crazy to all of them), music that is completely unlike anything that they have ever heard or known to be possible, even for him with his self proclaimed knowing all music that has and will ever exist

And then the battery dies—

It's not like any of them know how to charge it or even that they have to, so then he assumes that he just broke the gift you gave him—

I want you to imagine what a distraught person looks like, now take that image and multiply it by 10 or so

Venti is going to feel so bad, you went through all this trouble to send him a specialized gift (which was better than anything you have ever sent anyone else in his eyes), and he breaks it

If you were there physically he would apologize for days on end, but since you aren't there physically, he has to simply use that energy apologizing to the statute of you and praying that you'll forgive him

If he gets another gift after that he'll feel better about the whole thing, taking that as a sign of your forgiveness

(Venti would also accidentally be given a lot of wine by me because I just think about him everytime I see bottles anywhere)

Childe would probably be most likely to get various types of weaponry, I'm basing a lot of this soley off of what items cause me to think of these characters btw, but he would really take great pride and whatever you gave him, even if it was like stupid little trinkets (Childe with a tiny bow key chain that he puts on his actual bow let's go—)

I really want Thoma to get a dog stuffed animal, because I think that would be incredibly cute

I think the kids getting things would be absolutely adorable, especially if it was kind of unorthodox things

Like Qiqi now has a large pile of coconuts and coconut shaped toys, because every time you see one you can't help but think of her

Klee would get cute comics and probably a large amount of various toys that are red, she would hoard them all in her room and refused to give them up for anything

It's just such a fun idea, and really personalized too since everyone has different associations for characters and objects, thank you for sharing <3

2 years ago

Just Don’t Look [Yandere Diluc x Reader]

Title: Just Don’t Look [Yandere Diluc x Reader]

Synopsis: Diluc is a perfect gentleman. He must be. Because if he isn’t, you don’t think you can handle it.

For Horrorfest request: Diluc and “I’m scared to close my eyes; I’m scared to open them.”

Word Count: 870

notes: Yandere, kidnapped reader, bondage, noncon touching

Just Don’t Look [Yandere Diluc X Reader]

Dawn Winery is a beautiful estate.

And you can’t complain about the company, either.

Diluc Ragnvindr is the perfect gentlemen. He pulls out your chair before every meal he attends–almost every dinner, and sometimes he stays long enough in the mornings for breakfast. He inquires about your day with the utmost of sincerity, even though it is almost always the same (you read, you embroidered, you took a bath).

He ensures that his staff treats you with respect and gentleness, never raising their voices or throwing furrowed brows your way. They  help you get dressed in clothes that are softer and finer than anything you’ve ever owned. They prepare your baths, filled with sweet smelling soaps and oils. They fetch you things to do, if Diluc has permitted it.

You’re treated so well here. Like royalty, some might say. Kindly. Finely. Like some precious jewel that must be handled with the highest of grace and care.

But… and there’s always a but, when you are treated so well.

But.

Keep reading


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2 years ago

Imagining Tighnari coming home after going out to further explore the forest and is red in the face, panting and needy and instantly latching to your body, rutting his hips against yours whilst whimpering into your ear that he just can’t wait any longer, his cock has been throbbing for ages now whilst he was travelling home :(( you’re confused as to what brought it on, but by peering into his bag you see an array of brightly coloured mushrooms, ones that Tighnari himself to avoid at all costs as they’re basically viagra, and by the smell of his clothes you can only guess correctly that he had touched them at some point, and now it’s your job to let him fuck the living daylights out of you, else he’ll be on his knees crying and begging to let him stuff his cock into your warm pussy and to let him cum before he looses his mind :(

whiny horny tighnari who begs for a crumb of pussy :(( yeah :((

f!reader, smut galore, feral tighnari, knotting, breeding, cervix fucking, a/b/o-esque

all you can really do now is to carefully put the bag with the mushrooms down in a safe place, lock the door to your hut and strip yourself as quickly as you can because you know that any second your feral horny boyfie can and will jump you like a wild animal in heat.

and he did, oh archons he did. the second he sees that you're naked before him, he physically feels the resistance break and jumps onto you, frantically trying to climb on top of you and attempt to mount you. when he finally has you on your hands and knees tighnari lets out a pathetic long whine seeing you so open before him, presenting your dripping wet pussy to him for the taking, so without any further thoughts he rams his red cock into you, the fat tip nudging against your cervix and leaking like a faucet.

and the thing is, even if you wanted to do something, you really couldn't! the way tighnari bites your shoulder, his tiny sharp teeth making indents in your flesh marking you and the way his strong arms wrap around your belly holding you firmly in place like a vice make you feel like a helpless little bitch in heat, only there to get bred good by your mate.

and in a way you really are, your thoughts getting mushy and smoky as you feel tighnari let out a whining growl as he lifts his left leg over your thigh, the tell tale tug of his forming knot on the enterance of your pussy before you both let out a matching exhausted keen as with one final strong thrust your mate rams inside you, the pointed tip of his dick firmly lodged against the enterance to your most precious place and his pulsing knot keeping all his thick cum locked inside you.

and of course this isn't the end! the mushrooms apparently had a much stronger effect than both of you assumed, effectively sending your fennec foxboy into premature heat, so the only thing on his mind now is to be locked inside you and breed you full <33


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2 years ago

please consider; tighnari having nesting behaviour. he cannot help but want to be somewhere … comfortable. safe. somewhere that smells good. consider, too, this behaviour getting even worse as his rut approaches - because of course he needs to have somewhere exceedingly soft and private to pin you beneath him and breed you and get out all of that needy energy–

but also consider: you and he are not yet in a relationship, and though he can feel the grip of his ‘sensible’ nature loosening, he is above all a Nice Young Man. as much as he may want to, he can’t simply drag you away for the duration of his rut and have his way with you. 

now. his ears are sensitive; so is his nose. and the smell of you, the scent of you wafting over towards him when you lean in to give him a report of your patrol or shyly sit beside him or ask him a question … it’s almost enough to push him over the edge. so what if he kept the cardigan you’d once shrugged off, complaining it was too hot (and then complaining you could never find it again). so what if he kept a towel you used to dry off after accidentally falling into the ravine when searching for lunar lotus for him - the laundry haven’t noticed it’s gone missing. it’s just one towel, rangers go through so many of them …

and so what, too, if one day whilst you’re out he slips into your little tent. so what if he reaches into your laundry basket and takes a few … mementos. buries his face into them, tail swishing from side to side in pleasure, ears twitching. you’ll be too embarrassed to mention it–

and it’s fine, too, if he spends his rut with one pressed against his face and the other wrapped around his cock whilst he imagines he’s fucking into you instead of his own fist, face flushed, eyes squeezed closed, his high-pitched whining caught by the fabric that still smells like you. nobody has to know. 


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2 years ago

Persuasion

Persuasion

Summary: Aemond protects those he cares about ruthlessly. You are no exception. So he will have the truth, or someone’s head. Maybe both.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW. Overprotective Aemond. Edging. Orgasm denial. Oral sex. Breeding kink (implied)

Word count: 2k

“Do not tell Prince Ameond.”

“Do not worry, my lady. My lips are sealed,” Grand Maester Mellos bowed lightly, gathering his ointments and bandages.

“Do not tell Prince Aemond what?”

By the door frame stood Prince Aemond Targaryen, arms crossed, and a dangerously calm look on his face.

Maester Mellos knew better, and Aemond’s seemingly composed demeanor was not to be trifled with.

The old man froze in place, glaring at the young prince as if he’d suddenly grown a third arm.

Clearing his throat, he greeted with a bow. “Prince Aemond… welcome back.”

He turned his eye to you. “I’m waiting.”

You huffed in annoyance, knowing far too well that he would turn something trivial into an unnecessary ordeal.

Because as far as Aemond Targaryen was concerned, your safety was paramount, and he would not have it any other way.

“Thank you, Maester Mellos,” you smiled warmly, trying to ease his nerves.

He merely hurried to make his way out, but Aemond barred the door, eyeing the man in front of him with a deadly stare.

“Aemond,” you called out, shifting to sit on your bed.

The Targaryen prince clicked his tongue, eventually stepping to the side. “Hmm.”

The poor old man was now visibly shaking, and nearly made a run for it once the pathway was made clear.

“That was uncalled for,” you half-scolded.

The door shut behind him, and he came to take a sit by your side, his face twisted into a serious expression. “What do you not want me to know, then.”

But before you could reply, his eye landed on your hands and you could swear you saw a hint of rage crossing his face.

“Who did this to you?” Poison coated his low voice, sending shivers across your spine.

He took your bruised hands in his, closely inspecting the damage to your knuckles.

It looked far worse than it felt. “I was sparring with Ser Criston. Just for fun,” you revealed, meeting his eye. “It was nothing much. This will heal soon.”

“He did this to you?” he sounded uncharacteristically… calm.

“No.”

Aemond’s tender fingers wrapped around your wrists, anger slipping through the cracks. “Then who?”

It would be much easier to give into the pressure, but you knew fully well that if you were to reveal who had been on the receiving hand of your fist, he’d simply storm out, not caring that the short amount of time you had to spend with with would be ruined.

“Let's forget about this for tonight,” you said, giving his hands a gentle squeeze. “I've missed you so much.”

Aemond rose to his feet, arching an eyebrow. “Should I go ask Maester Mellos, then? I’m sure he’d be much willing to talk.”

Rolling your eyes, you held him in place by tugging at his leather coat.

“Leave the poor man alone and fuck me instead.”

You pulled him towards you by his pants, slightly wincing as pain shot through your bruised hand.

“Tell me who it was.”

Deciding to ignore him, you parted you legs to accommodate him, resting your chin on his stomach. “Prince Aemond… I need you,” you pouted.

The hold you had on the young prince was such that had Queen Alicent fear that it might break her beloved son.

And nothing pleased you more than knowing you could bend him to your will with just the right amount of persuasion.

It didn't take long before he started panting lightly as you began caressing his crotch through the fabric, enjoying your touch and how you so skillfully and rapidly had his cock harden.

His eye fluttered shut, and he removed each layer of clothing from his body, until he got to his pants.

“Do not stare at me like that. I might lose it,” he groaned, bringing his thumb to caress your lips.

Your walls reflexively clenched around nothing, and you felt your clit swell in anticipation.

His toned torso gleamed of a faint mix of warm colours that emanated from the candles spread around you, and you couldn’t help to place the softest kiss on the think hair of silver that spread below his navel.

Aemond undid his pants to ease the tension on his cock before tossing the garment aside.

“Will you not tell me?” he asked, slowly dropping to his knees as your eyes were fixed on his thick and leaking cock.

With both hands on each thigh, he further spread you apart, dragging the fabric of your chemise up your legs, revealing your most intimate parts to his hungry gaze.

You knew what came next, and readied yourself by leaning back, supporting your weight with your arms.

Aemond pressed soft kisses up your inner thigh until he reached your folds.

He was staring intensely at you. “Last chance to tell me, my lady.”

You could feel his breath on you. “What does that mean…”

“Who hurt you?”

Aegon had been the one to meet your fist after he decided it would be smart to badmouth his brother in front of you. Not even Ser Criston Cole moved to defend the future king. He had deserved it.

But the last thing on your mind was Aegon and his ridiculous antics.

Aemond did not answer your question, as he pressed a kiss to your folds.

“How is it so swollen already?” he growled, parting your folds to reveal your throbbing clit. “Do you like me on my knees that much?”

He had such a way with words that you reckoned you might be pushed over the edge from the sound of his voice and lewd words.

You bucked your hips into him as you felt his tongue prodding at your entrance for a brief moment before he dragged it to lick your clit.

The sight of having the young prince hungrily eating you was enough to ignite the coil in your lower abdomen.

His tongue slipped inside you, as his nose was pressed against the sensitive bud, teasing it with each slurp.

“Right there… Gods…” you threw your head back in sheer pleasure.

The pressure on your lower half was such that you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

“Aemond…”

Just as you we were about to plunge into blinding bliss, you felt him draw away from you. The immediate loss of touch earning a strangled cry from you, your clit demanding attention again.

At first, you thought it was merely his intent do shift positions, so he could be buried deep within you and having your walls contract around him from your release.

However, by the time he was on top of you, dragging the thing underside of his cock along your folds, yet refusing to enter you, that’s when you realised something was off.

“Please… please…” you nearly yelled, wrapping your legs around his waist to increase the friction.

But Aemond paid no mind to your pleas, and kept rolling his hips while sucking gently on your neck.

The moment he heard your gasps getting louder and breathier, he halted, kissing away the tears that had started to flow from the overstimulation.

He lifted his hips as to avoid his cock from touching you at all, and you felt the urge to smack him.

“What are you doing,” you cried out, vision blurry and chest heaving rapidly.

He pressed his lips to your cheek in such adoration, that your heart skipped a beat.

“Do not underestimate my feelings for you,” whispered in a warning tone. “I would start a war for you.”

Others might brush that aside as an overstatement, but Aemond Targaryen did not utter empty threats.

That revelation sent you pushing your hips to his, urging him to have his cock on you once more.

Suddenly, his lips twisted into a mischievous smile, as he suddenly pinned your arms above your face.

You eyes widened in utter shock. “Aemond….”

“It seems we are in a bit of a predicament, lady wife,” he purred, lips nearly touching yours. “You seek release, but I shall not give it to you until you tell me who hurt you.”

At this, you tried to wriggle away from his grip. “Oh… fuck you!”

“I want that, too,” he said teasingly. “But first, you need to tell me a name.”

He chuckled at the evident agony in your eyes stilling your hips with other hand.

“And you will not be able to have your release by yourself without your hands,” he said, giving your wrists a squeeze. “Your choice.”

Your clit throbbed desperately in between your folds, craving his touch, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek at the sight of his cock drippings strings of precum onto your abdomen.

He was just as desperate to have you, and you were perplexed that he had such self control.

Seeing that you refused to cooperate, he lowered himself into you, his cock pressed down on your clit as your folds enveloped it.

“Gods… just move…” you growled in despair, tugging at your hands in an attempt to break free from his grip.

Surprisingly, he did as you asked, rolling his hips slowly. You tried to mimic the motion just so you could get to your point of no return.

But Aemond knew your body too well. He knew exactly what made you tick, and how your body would respond.

He stopped moving at once, heaving a frantic wail from you as your release got put on hold once more.

“Aegon! I threw a punch at Aegon,” you blurted out in between sobs as your sensitive clit throbbed against his cock. “He was uttering nonsense about you and—”

“You punched my brother?”

You opened your eyes to see surprised on his face, with a hint of amusement. He then released the grip on your wrists and brought one of your hands closer to his face, rubbing your sore knuckles with his thumb.

“That’s my girl,” he laughed, planting a kiss on each knuckle. “You should have told me right away.”

You rolled your eyes. “And you would have gone after him. I want you here… with—”

He immediately cut you off with a burning kiss, and just as quickly, he angled his hips to bury himself inside you.

The overstimulation and denied releases had left your body so sensitive that it was as if everything stung and you had to bite your lip hard to muffle your cries.

He ground mercilessly into you, breaking the kiss and removing the eyepatch.

“Look at me.”

You were met with the sapphire in place of his left eye, and knew that he was close the moment his arms faltered, and he nearly collapsed on top of you, speeding up and gripping your hips as he pumped in a final broken rhythm.

Taking your face in your hands, you had your lips caress the long scar, knowing fully well he had grown used to you showing him how much you adore every single inch of him.

“So tight…” he groaned.

You then watched in marvel as his mouth fell open in a quick hiss as he stilled inside you, filling you to the brim.

Feeling his cock twitching inside you violently as he spilled his cum inside, drove you over the edge until your vision blurred in waves of colours, tearing the room with a sharp cry of pleasure.

Aemond managed to regain some composure as he lifted your lower half and placed a pillow underneath your backside.

“Stay like this for a while,” he said, slowly sliding out of you.

Your breathing came out in erratic pants and you felt him gently pushing inside some of the cum that had spilled with his fingers.

At this pace, it would not be long before your belly would start to swell with his child.

He caressed your face with his hand, as he brought his lips to press a loving kiss to your sweaty forehead.

“Avy jorrāelan.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but before you could return the gesture, Aemond slid off the bed, rapidly getting dressed.

“Where are you going?” you asked, shifting to your side, a gush of cum spilling from you.

“On my way to behead my dear brother.”

You groaned in exasperation. “Aemond!”


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