Another ych commmission, this time Rhaenys from House of the Dragon with Violet Bridgerton for @saintgranny. Nature is healing, crossover ships are returning 🙏
Summary: Lottie looks so pretty when restrained. You can't help but want a taste.
Read on AO3 || Read on Squidgeworld
Lottie looks so pretty when she's restrained. Her body strains against the ropes, sure to leave marks upon her tanned skin. Bruises, memories mapped into her. But you aren't paying attention to her face. Not when her hard cock presses needily against your palm.
You grasp her in your hand as she whines.
“(Y/N),” she groans. “Please.”
You stroke her, slowly at first, marveling at the way her hips jerk towards you. She's desperate, leaking at the tip, as she thrusts into your hand. It isn't like her—usually the perfect composed daughter of the Matthews family. You like it when she unravels.
“(Y/N),” she groans. “G-God. Please. Please-”
“Careful, pretty girl,” you murmur.
You slow your strokes, which earns you a needy whine, as you lean in to press your lips against her neck. She turns towards you but you deny her the kiss that she wants. Instead, you bite at her earlobe.
“Behave,” you whisper. “And maybe I'll reward you.”
She groans and strains against the ropes again. But you know how to tie knots and they hold firm. She’s completely at your mercy.
“You can do that, can't you?”
“Y-Yes.”
“That's my good girl,” you murmur.
You lean back to look her in the eye. Her eyes are wide, chest rising and falling rapidly. She looks so pretty like this; tied up and desperate. You think you could just sit and admire her for the rest of the night.
But you aren't so cruel.
You brush your thumb over her cock-head and smile at her answering moan. But this time, she manages no needy thrusts. You can tell it takes a lot of restraint.
“That's it. Let me take care of you.”
You press a kiss to her mouth and then her chin and her neck, trailing downwards with each touch of your lips. Down the line of her body until you reach where she wants it most.
You pause, casting a glance upwards. Her eyes are dark. They stare down at you as if you're the only light in the world. Overwhelming and all consuming. She bites her lip to suppress her groan.
And then you take her cock in your mouth.
“F-Fuck, (Y/N)-!” she gasps.
You take a little at first, tongue rasping against the underside of her length, before you lower your head. She's big but you've taken her before. You know how to pace yourself. Besides, going slowly just means you will tease her even more.
Lottie moans above you. You can feel how much she wants to move, to thrust into your mouth, to seek her own pleasure.
But she's behaving. Just like you asked.
If your mouth wasn't full, you would be giving her the praise she deserves.
You bob your head up and down her cock, taking more and more of her. You slide your tongue against her and relish her taste.
“(Y/N),” she moans. “I'm… I'm…”
Each needy breath comes out raspy. She twitches in your mouth. But again, Lottie behaves and keeps herself still. She’s cute when she’s needy but knows what she has to do. You could take your time, let her moan and squirm until she’s begging. But truthfully, she already is.
Just a few moments, and she’s desperate for you.
You raise your head, letting her cock rest against your cheek.
“Come in my mouth, Lottie,” you murmur as you lay a kiss to her tip
And then you take her again, right to the base.
“(Y/N)!”
She's close, you can feel it. You bob your head as you take her entire length while you reach up to fondle her balls. Her answering moans are telling you are doing a good job. So you stroke and suck and take her.
She lasts longer than you expect. But then Lottie comes with a weak cry, hips jerking towards you.
She floods your mouth with her cum and you swallow every drop of her. You rise and claim her lips in a kiss, letting her taste herself off you.
Lottie whimpers weakly against your mouth.
“Perfect,” you murmur. “That’s my girl.”
“(Y/N),” she gasps. “You're so- I-”
You kiss her forehead and lightly caress her face. “That good?”
She nods, face flushed and panting. Her body tenses and the ropes tighten around her muscles. She is still under your control. And you cannot wait to spend the rest of the night with her.
warnings: serial killer!joy kwon, brief mention of death
You never suspected.
Perhaps it is her charm, that witty banter, bossy attitude, her cool and collected demeanour. In ways, she is infuriating. Joy Kwon knows exactly who she is and what she is capable of. To some she might come off as arrogant but you have seen her at work. She is just as brilliant as she thinks she is.
Or maybe it’s her good looks. Even behind the scrubs and the nitrile gloves, Joy is one of the most beautiful people you've ever seen. Your eyes meet across the room and she winks, and your heart skips a beat. They have always said that pretty privilege lets people get away with everything.
It could even be how tirelessly she works to save people. The Pitt isn't an easy place to be. It's far too easy to get overwhelmed. But Joy, she is focused and calculated. She knows what she's doing and how to best apply it.
But maybe… you should have known.
The news started reporting on bodies months ago but the dead don’t make it to the ER. If they did, maybe you would have seen the precise incisions, sliced in ways only those with a sharp knowledge of anatomy could do. Maybe you would have recognised the lines cut by a familiar blade.
You've seen her do it a thousand times. She is the first to volunteer to get her hands bloody. You had thought it was her desire to learn, to help the patients.
It's only now, standing in her doorway, do you understand that Joy was indeed learning. But she wasn't learning to save.
She was learning to kill.
Joy peers at you from the depths of her apartment, blood dripping down the length of her scalpel.
“(Y/N),” she says, in that familiar tone. “I… didn't expect you.”
You drop the bag of takeout as you stare at her. You wanted to surprise her. She said she was so tired during your shift that she likely wouldn't have time to cook. You wanted to do something nice.
The body on her table isn't someone you know, thankfully. But that is the only thankful thing about this situation.
Joy places her scalpel into a plastic tub next to her and discards her gloves. It's a familiar sight. Only this time, she steps towards you with a sharp look in her eyes.
“Do come in,” she says. “Close the door behind you.”
You can’t move. You stand, rooted in place, hand still on her doorknob.
You're going into shock, you know the symptoms. Your heart races, your skin becomes clammy, your head spins.
You should run.
But you can't.
You don't.
Joy slowly crosses the room until she stands next to you. She gently takes your wrist and you let go of the door.
“(Y/N),” she says. “I wouldn’t hurt you. Do you believe me?”
You blink and swallow the bile rising in your throat. “J-Joy. What-?”
She shuts the door behind you, sealing you in with her. And then she smiles, that familiar cocky smirk, and gestures towards her kitchen.
“Please,” she says. “Sit down before you faint.”
You can't. You turn to face her and take her in fully. She looks amused, if a little concerned.
“It's you,” you breathe. “The Pittsburgh Ripper.”
Joy blinks and she shrugs. “You’re breathing too quickly,” she warns.
“W-What-?”
Your vision darkens and you clutch at your chest. You're hyperventilating and you didn't even notice. Your knees buckle beneath you but she catches you before you hit the ground.
“Ah, (Y/N),” she sighs. “This is why you listen to me.”
Her embrace is warm and soft, a drastic contrast to the scene in the next room. And yet, you sink into her arms. You can't help yourself. It's consuming you.
Joy pats your head. “Luckily, you're in the presence of a very capable medical student. Come on. Let's get you sitting down.”
And you are powerless to stop her as she drags you into the dark.
