Hello, my name is semmel and I like to write about witch hat atelier and reverse 1999! I like yandere and dark themes so if you don't like that please scroll!
[ previously known as qifreysbush / maximalistinterior ], you've probably know me from my apprentice! Qifrey x apprentice! Reader inspired by Avril Lavigne.
I usually write one-sided attraction and occasional fluff when I'm feeling like it.
I'm open to requests on occasions but please check back on this post to see if I'm open!
yan qifrey with reader (gn/male/anything not female i’ll explode) who’s like just out of his reach. they meet in the great hall but reader is working on their first trial. they meet in khaln for ink but reader’s halfway out the door.
finally qifrey gets fed up with it and stalks reader to their house and learns their habits, eventually kidnaps them and keeps them at his atelier. can devolve into smut doesn’t have to chefs choice
ohhh i love you yan qifrey i love when you’re insane
Missing Opportunity
Note; call me a psyche but this legitimately came to me in a dream so you essentially gave me a reason to write LMFAO. Long live yandere qifrey, Im willing to be locked up by him (affectionate/joke) .
Apologies to any errors, I'm writing this while on a trip and kinda rushed towards the end as I'm a bit tired. First time writing something that is remotely smutty...
Warning; Obsessive tendencies, kidnapping, stalking, qifrey jerking off, fantasizing, slight corruption, slight ooc, stealing and then returning, first time jerking off.
If God is real, then these coincidences have to be some kind of joke.
There's so many chances he had missed to talk to you, so many chances for you to learn his name and so many chances for him to hold your hand.
When Qifrey was merely an apprentice, he often look at his hand floating in the sky, wondering how your small hand would feel against his. Normal crush, as it should be but he began to grow frustrated that he couldn't have the pleasure to talk to you.
When he went upstairs to visit his mentor, you were already going down.
When he's busy with a particular class or trial, you were already free from your hectic schedule.
But his friends doesn't have this wall between you and him.
Olruggio had that chance. Alaira became your friend and even Easthies held your hand once. So why couldn't he have that privilege? What did they have that he doesn't? If it's because of a normal life, God's be damned.
He imagined what it would be like, to hold you even if it makes him release that branch, vines and twigs covering his body slowly as he succumbs to the silverwood tree.
Qifrey watched, and watched as his closest friends— and what he would call his enemy— Easthies get closer to you than he ever could. He felt something churn and darken over his chest, that feeling whenever he missed just a glance at you near Nolnoa's shop.
That feeling when his shoulder brushed against you one time when in a crowded market before he could reach out, he saw you already so far away from him.
That feeling when he saw you happily talking to Easthies, he wondered 'what if it was him instead? ' what's your reaction? Do you smile and laugh with him?
Qifrey's heart aches for you, yet you're so far from his grasp that it's laughable.
Qifrey's hand trace the mug that you touched moments before, he bought it out of a whim when you put it back and bought something else entirely. This is the closest he can go with you, it looks like a joke as he started using this mug as some sort of escape from the cruel joke.
".. Do you like coffee or tea? " he questioned, more so to himself rather than you. He wondered what your tastes are, do you like it sweet? Do you like it bitter? Something small and domestic as what flavour you'd prefer, there's a kind of intimacy that let him fantasize a life with you if you knew him.
Is it pathetic of him to do so? Perhaps, but a man can dream big.
Qifrey filled the cup with hot water, opening a freshly bought tea leaves, jasmine. A little bit sweet and a bit bitter, perfect for someone who's trying out a new blend of tea.
He waited until the water started to brown, swirling the liquid with a small spoon. ".. I think you're the type to like tea... " —nonsense muttering, Qifrey slouched as he look at the darkened tea. He doesn't feel like drinking it anymore, pushing it to the corner of the kitchen counter.
"Why wouldn't you notice me? " —A question that's buzzing all over his mind, Qifrey envied everyone that has the pleasure of meeting you, shaking your hand and let alone stand near you. He didn't think of it much and he doesn't even realize it himself when he started to take notes of where you frequent.
That stall you usually buy bread and fish due to the cheap price and freshness of the fish, Qifrey found himself frequenting it quite often, but you just sneak pass by him.
Qifrey even started to follow you, only 5 meters apart, far enough you don't see him and close enough that he could track your location. Whether you're in a dense marketplace or talking a walk in the forest, he'll just be a few steps ahead, matching the rhythm of your steps. Like hearts beating at the same rate.
He knows what café's you like, what order is your go to's, what your style of hair, how much you spend on groceries and even he knows the exact layout of your house.
He doesn't regret it, or at least he tried to, that decision is decided when you were leaving in a hurry Nolnoa's store after an urgent call from one of your friends and rushed out without grabbing your cloak. Qifrey stand there, stunned if he should call out to you since you rushed out right when he is directly next to you, he had gotten used to this feeling of distance between the two of you.
"Ah, they really are a clumsy kid... " Nolnoa's voice broke out the sudden silence, walking closer to Qifrey as the old man holds your cloak. "Do you know them personally, master Qifrey? " The old man questioned as Qifrey turn his head towards the source of the voice.
"Yes, I do know them.. We met when we were apprentices back in the Great Hall. " —a half baked lie, but Nolnoa didn't seem to catch on. "Then can you return their cloa—"
Without a second thought, he already grabbed the cloak with a small smile, though it would be bigger if it not for him realizing how rude cutting off an elder's speech. "Yes, I will Mr. Nolnoa, don't worry. "
Nolnoa look at Qifrey with wide eyes for a moment before chuckling to himself, "ho ho! I see, I see... Then off you go! " —realizing that quick and desperate approach of someone who is in love, Nolnoa quickly ushered Qifrey out of the shop.
"Shoo, shoo now!.. "
"Alright, alright, I'm going.. " — Qifrey mused, going along with the old man's antics. He looked at your cloak, his eyes darkening slightly before putting it over his shoulder. You don't mind right?
—
Qifrey paused, a slight blush dusted across his face as he holds your cloak, lifting it right to his face as he took a sniff. It still has your scent, a bit withered but he will take it, Qifrey falls to his side with your cloak tight against his chest.
"Mnnh... " He hummed, he took another whiff of the cloak, unable to take himself out of it. In moments like this, Qifrey felt close to you, even if this was the only way he knew how.
He slowly traced his hand from his chest to his crotch, he was very tempted. It's his first time feeling something so raw— primal, even. But guilt and morals were thrown away from the window as he quickly unbuckled these troublesome pants out and his...
Qifrey took a deep, deep breath, an even deeper blush dusted across his cheek, closing his eyes as he started to imagine you. His hand, slow and albeit clumsy, started to go from the base, eliciting a surprised sharpened breath.
Qifrey continued, his index and thumb closing in as he started to slowly jerk it up and down. His hand traced to the tip, circling his fingers over it. Perhaps it's shame or overwhelming lust that consumed his entire being but he couldn't stop, each breath intake led to small gasps of air the more Qifrey touched himself.
"Mnng... Haa— hmnn... " —his pace quickened.
Clutching your cloak closer to his nose as he took another big whiff, imagining that it's your body instead of a piece of cloth. The sweat on his skin is yours and the feeling of his hand pumping his dick is yours.
—Do you mind being his first time? Do you mind if he just.. Take you from here and keep you forever?
Qifrey fantasizes again, this time it's you on his bed, clothed yet there's something domestic and intimate with how you lay there, reading a book as he slowly lay beside you, his arms wrapped around your waist. Grinding his erection to the crevice of your rear, mumbling and groaning against your shoulder blades, watching as you leaned against him.
Turning you over, laying on your chest, he pulled down your trousers to your knees. His fingers tracing your backside and slowly inserting themselves to your...
Before he could finish his fantasy, a sudden gush of electricity went through his entire body, striking his brain as he cummed all over your cloak without realizing it.
"Shit, shit—" Qifrey didn't mean to release all over your cloak— he quickly sat up, tucking his dick back to his pants as he rushed to grab some tissues and conjuring ink to make a water spell. "I wasn't even finished... " he admits more so to himself about the unfinished fantasy.
He just needs to make sure it doesn't have any scent of his stained semen on it— he already have an excuse made up—
—
Qifrey ended up returning your cloak the next day, he awkwardly sauntered to your door. He couldn't get himself to focus too much, that fantasy sticking to him like paper and glue. Thinking back to it, he became embarrassed but never ashamed, embarrassed purely out of desperation.
He outsretched his hand, palms turned as Qifrey hesitated.
Knock— Knock—
"Wait a moment.. " You shouted from the other side eof the door, footsteps clumsy and hurried, he could even hear small curses as you rushed towards the door. "Uh.. Hello? " you peaked through a small gap, the small lock chain visible.
"Hello, Mr. Nolnoa sent me, have we.. met before? "—Qifrey questioned, wondering if you even knew about him from his apprentice years.
"Wait— oh, Qifrey..!— " With a click, you unfastened the lock chain, opening the gap slightly bigger. "I didn't know you live near Kalhn.. "
"I've just been settling down, even planning to have an apprentice of mine in due time. " He tilted to the side, getting a better view of you from the gap, plastering a smile that not quite reach his ears.
"So.. Why are you here? " you questioned, raising an eyebrow.
"Oh, yes— I almost forgotten.. Mr. Nolnoa entrusted me with something of yours... Erm.. " he shuffled, grabbing your cloak from his bag. "You've forgottten this. "
"Oh, thank you— it must be a hassle to find me, sorry... " you stepped it, grabbing your cloak as you inspected it. "You even cleaned it, really, thank you. " you smiled, it sent something towards his heart. "You must be tired— please come inside. " you urged, opening the door for him.
"If you insist, are you working for Mr. Nolnoa? " Qifrey questioned, following you more closely than he did before, taking a seat in the living room connected to the kitchen.
"Only part-time, extra money on the side for personal expenses and uh.. Fixes to the house. " you replied, rushing to the kitchen to grab or to make something to drink. "Do you like tea? "
"That would be good, thank you. "
"Do you want sugar with it? "
"Hmmnn.. Sure, why not. " he nodded as you look from the corner to make sure he agrees. "How have you been? I know we aren't that close, let alone acquaintances but we still know each other, do we not? "
"I guess you could say that.. We were class mates, well, atleast your friends are my classmates. " You heated the kettle, setting down a jar of honey and a small container of sugar on the coffee table. "It's been good, I got a nice house and good job that isn't too straining and like I said before— a side job if money is tight. "
You had your back turned, feet shuffling across the kitchen and him matching those steps.
"You must be living peacefully.. Being one of the sage's being your mentor and Ghodrey's treasure by your side... Truly im jealous. " You opened your eyes, the shadow is quite dark. "So, Qifrey.. —" you turned around, seeing him looking over you.
"Apologies, but I couldn't wait for another year. " with that, he stuck a spell quickly onto your forehead.
You face quickly turned from horror to a blank expression, unable to speak another word as your body lost its strength, the corner of your eyes turning dark as the only thing you last saw was Qifrey's innocent face as he tilt slightly to the side.
He grabbed your limb body before it could drop to the floor, turning off the kettle with his other hand. "I hope you don't mind... " he lifted under your knees, adjusting your position so your body is leaning against him.
"I'm.. A bit impatient, sorry. " —though his not sorry in the slightest.
qifrey’s hand slides up and down the hard length of his cock, legs spread and back sliding against the chair with his eyes glued firmly in front of him. the bed shakes and the headboard rattles noisily, a broken promise come to light.
“fuck, olly, you’re so tight-” your voice strains to fight back a moan as olruggio, qifrey’s best friend and partner, impales himself on your dick. his legs straddling your stomach, pumping himself up and down in time with your hips, cock rutting into his waiting hole.
and fuck, if it wasn’t a pretty sight, qifrey’s hands working overtime as he strokes his dick; mesmerized by your hold on the fat of olruggio’s ass, the way your palms dig into his flesh as if to intertwine your bodies.
qifrey wishes there was another solution. he wishes with all his heart that it could be him on that bed, pointing relentlessly into olruggio. but he can’t. he couldn’t do that to his friend.
so instead, you do his friend. your dick slides easily in and out of olruggio’s ass, and he cries out when it hits his prostate. qifrey watches with bated breath and stilled hands as olruggio’s body stutters to a halt, gasping as he paints your chest in his come.
thick white bursts of seed land in between your clavicles, olruggio’s gasping for air and moaning as you thrust deeply inside of him, burying your dick to the hilt. qifrey moves his own hands in time witch the motion, chasing the quickly mounting pleasure as he watches your hips stutter once, twice, until you moan loudly, slamming olruggio’s hips down as far as they’ll go, holding olruggio in place as you come inside him.
in tandem, qifrey comes, back arching and whimpering as thick ropes of spend burst from his own dick, painting his navel and chest in viscous white streaks. his breath hitches, legs twitching from the sheer intensity of his orgasm.
panting, you slowly move olruggio off of your body, laying him down next to you so he can relax. it wasn’t an easy position to fuck him in, and the exertion of the act sent him tumbling into the embrace of sleep with ease. he snores practically as soon as his head hits the pillow, and a soft chuckle leaves your lips at the sight.
“qifrey?” your voice calls his attention, his eyes meeting yours in an understanding glance. he looks away, shame and lingering arousal coloring his face a heated red.
“earth to qifrey,” you wave a hand in front of his face, watching until his eyes focus on you yet again. sighing, you place a hand on his chin, tilting it until he looks up at you.
his blue eyes glimmer with tears, from exhaustion or shame you aren’t sure; but as you look down at him with such softness in your eyes qifrey can’t stop the aching in his chest. “this isn’t healthy.”
qifrey freezes, before shaking his head to loosen your hold. you oblige, letting your hand fall to your side. “what are you to decide if this is healthy or not?”
your voice turns sharper. “your friend, qifrey,” your harsh tone makes qifrey jump, wide eyes meeting yours in an unsaid prayer.
don’t say that.
don’t say things you don’t mean.
don’t leave me.
“fine,” he musters, looking away from your scalding glare. he can’t stand the way you always drag the truth out of him; it makes him feel small and weak and frail. “i suppose you’re right.”
you rub the back of your neck, sighing. “i know i can’t stop you, but..” your voice trails, suddenly becoming softer and genuine. “i care about you, qifrey. i can see this is hurting you.”
“really? because i seem to be doing just fine at the moment,” qifrey dismisses you with a wave of his hand, the strong urge to tell you to leave dying on his tongue when he catches your eyes. they tell stories, unravelling the truth he held so close to his heart.
worried.
concerned.
loved.
“..if you say so,” it’s not a final answer, and qifrey can feel the weight of unsaid answers in his throat. he pushes the feeling down until it feels like cotton is clogging his chest.
“good night, qifrey. take care.”
the door shuts before he can answer, and he lays his head in his hands, staring at the floor.
⟢ tags: fluff, qifrey and reader make dumplings, olly is away on work, apprentices being apprentices, kissing in front of the sink
⟢ a/n: can you tell i'm hungry 😐 (but i also wrote this to make up for whatever misbehaviour was 😫 i hope i haven't forgotten how to write fluff!)
The atelier's kitchen feels different, at night. Far removed from the usual chatter of dishes and voices, the fire burns low in the hearth, leaving only the soft glow from the phantasmal fireball lamp on the table. More hushed and still, a quiet ghost of its bustling self in the daytime—but it's not a bad thing.
Especially not when he's in it.
"Have the girls gone to bed already?" Qifrey looks up from the kitchen counter when you finally emerge from the stairs. You'd sent the girls to their beds right after dinner—it'd been a long day out in Kahln, with shopping errands, a sudden sunshower that had sent everyone running for cover, and far too many distractions along the way. But what had really stirred up the evening was the book Tetia had found in a corner bookstore: a romance novel with a battered pink cover, secondhand, and a title so flowery Qifrey had raised an eyebrow at you the moment he saw it. Tetia had firmly refused to sleep unless someone read it to her, and even Agott had lingered at the doorway with the other two girls, despite her insistence about having "no care for silly, sappy lovesick tales".
"It took quite some time." Between light threats, repeated goodnights, and one overly dramatic reading of the first page, bedtime had turned into a battle of attrition you hadn't agreed to participate in. "But they agreed to sleep after I promised you'd read the rest to them tomorrow night."
Qifrey lets out a soft laugh, turning to glance over this shoulder as you round the table to stand by him at the counter. The soft blue of his visible eye catches in the firelight, your figure faintly reflected in the surface of his glasses.
"Me?"
"Yes, you."
"You committed my efforts without first seeking my agreement?"
"It was easy when you weren't there to defend yourself," you reply lightly, leaning in to inspect the vegetables beneath his knife. They're a little limp, colours dulled and beginning to brown at the tops. "Besides, Coco is very excited to hear you do all the voices. You wouldn't say no to her."
"Both that child and you severely overestimate my talent and willingness," Qifrey huffs, though you can see him fighting to keep the corners of his mouth from turning upwards. "Still, as a reward for successfully getting those little terrors to sleep… would you like some dumplings for supper?"
It's almost embarrassing how quickly the fatigue leaves your body. "Dumplings!"
Qifrey laughs quietly at your immediate enthusiasm. "Yes, yes. I'm making some now." He sweeps the chopped vegetables into a bowl with practiced ease, and only then do you notice the rest of the ingredients spread across the counter beside him: minced flying shrimp and meat, a little dish of carefully measured seasonings, and a neat stack of dumpling wrappers lightly dusted with flour. So that's what he'd been doing the entire time you were upstairs battling the girls into bed. "I was taking stock of the kitchen earlier and realised these vegetables needed to be used soon. But I haven't wrapped them yet, so you may have to wa—"
"—do them with you," you finish for him, already reaching for the wrappers before Qifrey can protest. "Double the hands make for half the work, don't they?"
Qifrey just sighs. He knows better than the argue by now. The sound is touched with quiet amusement despite the air of resignation he tries to maintain—helplessly fond, in all of its indulgences.
The two of you stand at the kitchen counter to wrap the dumplings. Quiet nights like these are often your favourite—not that you don't enjoy the company of the girls—but moments like these are made all the more precious in their rarity. Little stretches of time where it is only you and Qifrey, where he can simply be himself and not the witch or the master, the two of you sharing in the stillness of the sleeping atelier together.
Your hips bump together every now and then in the cramped space between the counter and kitchen table, and your fingers brush with murmured apologies neither of you truly mean when you reach for the same wrapper more than once. You watch Qifrey's hands while you work; long fingers pleating the dumplings shut with practiced ease, each one cradled lightly in the cup of his palm before being placed in neat rows upon the tray. There is something strangely tender about the motion—careful and familiar in the same way he handles all fragile things.
The same way he handles your heart.
By the time you finish wrapping the dumplings, the water on the stove has come to a rolling boil. Qifrey lowers a handful carefully into the pot while you gather the rest, sliding them neatly into the cold box to keep for another day.
When you turn back, Qifrey is already holding a single bowl in his hands, waiting for you. Steam curls upward lazily from the broth.
You glance up at him. "You're not having any?"
"Hm?" Qifrey hums lightly as he sets the dumplings down on the table. "I assumed we could just share. It'd be less to clean up."
The easy casualness of his words makes something warm unfurl quietly in your chest.
The two of you eat the dumplings at the kitchen table, shoulders brushing every so often as you pass the spoon between you. The dumpling skins turn almost translucent in the broth, pieces of shrimp glowing a faint pink under the lamplight like small crystals. Qifrey nudges the bowl slightly closer when he notices you slowing down, waiting patiently for you to take the next one before reaching for his own. Between bites, the bowl slowly empties until there is nothing but broth, and then, even that too, is gone.
"I'll do the dishes," you say as you gather the bowl and spoon, already beginning to rise from your seat. The quicker you get it done, the sooner you can return to his side. Qifrey's brow furrows behind his glasses.
"It was my suggestion to cook, so I should—"
"Qifrey." Your hands slip over his shoulders before he can stand, fingers idly combing through the soft hair at his nape as he peers up at you. "You already stayed up late last night preparing snacks for us and Olly's lunchbox. Let me."
He tries, regardless. "But—"
"Qifrey, dear," you interrupt, voice dropping into something unbearably sweet. You can already see the first signs of impending embarrassment creeping across his face. "My love, my moon and stars, the apple of my eye, the keeper of my heart, won't you please let me have the honour of—"
"Oh, stop it." Qifrey pulls away from you halfheartedly, one hand coming up to cover part of his face as though it might hide the warmth gathering there. His voice is exasperated, but weakly so—far too flustered to carry any real force behind it. "Do as you like."
You think you want to kiss him, then. Desperately, a little. But experience has taught you the moment your lips touch his, neither of you will accomplish anything you intend—so instead, you settle for a light peck to his cheek before carrying the bowl over to the basin. Warm water laps softly against your hands as you scrub at the porcelain, the quiet clink of dishes filling the kitchen.
Even so, you can still feel Qifrey's gaze lingering on your back. A few quiet moments later, there's the soft scrape of chair legs against the kitchen floor, and you barely have time to glance over your shoulder before his arms are slipping around your waist from behind, warm and loose. He folds himself against your back with a quiet sigh.
"I missed you," he murmurs into the crook of your neck.
"I was with you the entire day."
"Not like this."
Qifrey's lips find your neck first, trailing warm kisses along your skin unhurriedly in a way that makes your breath catch. Your head tilts back instinctively to give him more room, and you feel the gentle nip of teeth against the sensitive underside of your jaw before he finally turns you just enough to kiss you properly.
It starts off slow—soft, familiar in a way only Qifrey can be around you; careful without restraint, gentle without hesitation. Your breaths mingle warm and wet in the spaces between each kiss as your mouths part and meet again, his glasses nudging lightly against your cheekbone as he leans closer. To your dismay, your hands remain suspended awkwardly over the sink, dripping wet and a little soapy. You want to touch him properly, to turn fully into his arms, card your fingers through his hair, and tug just enough to earn that quiet little sound he always tries and fails to swallow.
Instead, you make a helpless noise against his mouth and Qifrey laughs softly into the kiss, like he already knows what you're thinking. He's leaning in again when—
There's a sudden creak from the staircase. The two of you freeze instantly, Qifrey's fingertips still gently cradling your jaw. A second later, you hear the unmistakable sound of whispering—poorly hushed, at that—followed by the muffled shuffling of feet retreating back up several steps in frantic succession.
You and Qifrey slowly turn to look at each other.
“…Were they spying on us?” you whisper, more amused than anything.
“I am choosing,” Qifrey says with an immense attempt at dignity, despite the lingering flush across his face, “to believe they merely came downstairs for water.”
Another loud whisper drifts from the stairwell.
“I told you they were kissing—”
"—really just like in the book—"
"—can we go back to bed now—"
“Shh!”
The last one is definitely Agott. You bite down hard on your laughter, glancing up at the man behind you. Qifrey closes his eye with the exhaustion of a man enduring profound and arduous trials, one hand coming up to rub briefly at his temple before he leans in to steal one last kiss.
“Tomorrow,” he murmurs against your mouth, “I'm teaching my apprentices the concept of privacy.”
Hiiii I saw you have one slot left for requests so im wondering if you can do an olruggio x ftm!reader just with like some soft smut if possible or even just fluff if you cant thats perfectly ok and I hope you have a nice day/night and I hope you dont get burnt out with writing! I would be very grateful if you could write my request
WE CAN MAKE IT IF WE TRY
╰┈➤ olruggio x ftm! reader ੈ
warnings: soft olruggio, subdom! olruggio, kissing, slight body insecurity, body worship, blow jobs, sweet, short, n spicy
olruggio stands like a pillar next to you, chest pressed against yours as he holds you close. his chest rises up and down comfortingly, and he rubs your back in smooth motions. “hm?”
you slowly move his hand away from your back, moving it until it presses against the apex of your chest. his breathing stutters, and you crane your neck to kiss his hand. “i’m too tired to do a lot tonight.”
he smiles, warm and fond, letting his hand fall away to quickly write up a spell. a muffling spell, you note, as he presses it against the door now closed behind you. he brings your hand up to his lips, kissing it, the scratchy brush of his stubble against your hand making your stomach flutter.
“that’s alright,” he consoles, gently guiding you to the stairs and laying you on the bed. he presses his palm to your cheek, letting you rest your head against it before he slips to the floor, pressing a pillow underneath his knees.
“just lemme take care of you.”
his hands make their way up the outside of your thighs, dipping under your trousers and boxers to gently snake them down your legs. he lets them fall to the floor, before resting his head on the crook of your thighs, pressing sweet, soft kisses in between them.
olruggio’s hair brushes your navel, and you laugh breathlessly, running your hand through his hair. he hums, pressing his face against your crotch and inhaling deeply. you sputter, flustered, blush reddening your face.
“what are you doing-?!” you gasp, embarrassed. self consciousness grows in a pit in the center of your chest, unconsciously sucking in your stomach. olruggio pouts, his reply sounds breathless underneath you as he pats your stomach firmly. “it smells like you. and stop that nonsense, i wanna see your stomach.”
you groan but concede, earning a happy hum from olruggio. he lays there for a few more moments, pressing soft kisses to the skin of your thighs, beard tickling the sensitive skin.
his grip tightens on your waist as his head dips lower, extending his tongue and licking a strip up your cock. you gasp in surprise, gripping the sheets as olruggio starts lapping at your cock.
“fuck, olly,” cursing under your breath at olruggio’s ceaseless motions, waves of hot pleasure pooling in your core as he works his tongue masterfully along your dick. he laps at the gathering pre like a man starved, stubble tickling the tender skin.
he works you to the brink effortlessly, tongue circling the head of your cock until your vision turns white, a broken moan leaving your body as you come from ulruggio’s tongue alone. he greedily swallows every drop of your cum, only pulling away once you stop twitching.
“i told you to just let me take care of you,” he teases, grabbing a rag from the side of the bed and gently cleaning you up. you glare at him, too tired to move. “at least you’ll sleep well.”
warnings: psychological torture, physical abuse, non-con, overstimulation, handjobs, mind break
⚠️ A/N: this is much darker than i usually like to write. i really liked the prompt linked, and thought it’d be a good character study, but this one is going to be heavy. please take caution and don’t read if any of the tags are triggering. ⚠️
taglist! @lim3s @keeiiiozz @minimalistinterior
the room you’re in is dark, cold, and wet. for shits sake, they couldn’t even put you in a dry dungeon. it’s always the ones with moist bricks so old they’re porous, holding water as it runs in rivulets from the walls. heavy ropes work as bindings, digging angrily into the skin of your wrists and holding you tightly against the cold floor.
so, you’re probably underground. that means unless you can’t escape on your own, and no one will be coming for you. not that you expected to be saved- the brimhats don’t particularly care for concepts like “loyalty” or “no one left behind.”
whatever. you hated your colleagues anyway and you’d never live it down if they had to save your sorry ass.
so, plan b. one you really don’t like, but what can you do?
you’ve used your body to get past obstacles before. sure, it felt humiliating and degrading having to jut your chest and ass out like a peace of meat out on display, but at least you lived. if not for the crippling feeling of dysphoria that left you bed bound immediately after, you’d say it’s a pretty good tactic. not one you like to use often, but, it’s better than being dead, right?
right?
a door opens somewhere, followed by a loud grinding noise of stone-against-stone. definitely a windowway then. a light burns shadows into your eyes, pyreball held above long, slim fingers. the man attached to those fingers..
lord if he wasn’t beautiful. cool blue-grey eyes, fluffy white hair akin to a cloud, glasses that mimicked a birds beak. wait.. where have you seen those features before?
oh, right. he’s the man who captured you. because obviously.
“well, if it isn’t qifrey,” you mean for it to sound menacing, but with your voice so hoarse the threat sounds more like a croak. the man lets a thin smile purse through his terse expression, eyes grazing over your body like a brand.
“save it,” he commands, voice low and incensed. qifrey kneels down on one knee in front of you, so close you can feel his breath fan against your face. “i don’t have the patience to entertain you, brimhat.” the word comes out like a curse, making you grin lopsidesly.
“what, scared of a little forbidden magic? that why you got me tied up like this? you’re scared-” you’re cut off by a loud smack against your cheek, a startled yelp leaping from your throat before you can stop it. your face pulses in pain, skin red and angry.
“let me tell you how this is going to go,” qifrey’s voice is low and dangerous, a hot iron pressed against skin. “i’m going to ask you questions. you’re going to answer them. if you choose not to, please keep in mind no one can hear your screams.”
you bare your teeth, threat rolling off your body like rainwater. “what’re you gonna do to me, huh, pointy hat?” he tilts his head mockingly, mouth opening to reply.
but you’re too fast, mouth hurling a glob of spit right against his cheek. it hits its marks with a wet splat, and qifrey turns, slowly, calmly. it sends a sudden bolt of fear down your spine, his thumb wiping it away like it was nothing more than a fly on a window.
his hands move before you can even draw in a breath, wrapped around your throat and pinning you to the floor. the bindings scream against your skin, every tiny shift sending red-hot bolts of pain straight to your brain.
speaking of your brain, the asphyxiation makes it panic, hand closed around your jugular too far to bite and squeezing just enough to be painful. your survival instincts scream at you to get it off, to find oxygen, anything. but your bindings keeps you firmly stuck in place, and qifrey’s other hand hasn’t hit its mark yet.
the loud sound of fabric ripping makes you gasp, lower body now fully exposed to qifrey. he tosses away your undergarments like they’re nothing, then adjusts you so your bare back and thighs meet the cold, wet floor.
“what- what’re you-” you gasp, fear and panic swelling into a cacophony of dread in your chest. you watch, terrified, as a manic smile slips into qifrey’s face, the hand on your throat tightening ever so slightly.
“since you insisted, we’re going to do this the hard way.”
you don’t even get time to scream before qifrey’s hand plunges into you, working quickly so his fingers drag against the tip of your cock. you wail, punctuated by a keening moan.
his teeth are white razors in your tunnel vision, gasping and sobbing and choking under his touch. he works himself around your cock brutally, never stopping and always brushing right where you need him. your body shakes with fear and twitches with pleasure, your hindbrain screaming at you to flee.
qifrey leans in close, loosening his grip on your throat ever so slightly, but enough so you can take in panicked gasps of air. his hair falls in front of his face, obscuring his eyes. “tell me who you’re working for.”
“hah-?” you try, unable to register his words. he doesn’t wait for you to catch up, instead landing a rough slap on your face, on the same spot as last time. you cry in pain, gasping through pitiful sobs.
“who. are. you. working. for?” his question works in time with brutal thrusts of his fingers, and you squirm, tears pouring down your cheeks. “i- iguin,” the answer is broken and hurts your shredded throat, but it’s enough.
qifrey hums, but never lets up his brutal thrusts, pumping your cock until your toes curl and you’re so so close-
he pulls away, and the loss of contact makes you whine. you watch his face work, thinking to himself. probably debating on if keeping you alive is worth it.
“well, olly does need some stress relief,” qifrey says, apparently deciding on a solution as his hand releases its vice grip on your throat. “isn’t that right, olly?”
“hm,” a gruff voice echoes from somewhere behind qifrey, and you almost sob as his hands let up on your throat entirely, going to dig through his pockets.
he retrieves a small, rounded wand, and with a quick spell inked onto the surface, it starts vibrating in his hands. an evil smile on his face as he lowers himself back to you.
“can’t have you getting too comfortable,” he says, like a teacher correcting a student. the device slips between your thighs and against your cock, the vibration making you choke. you squirm, trying to dislodge it, but it’s no use; every movement shifts against your pulsing dick in pleasurable agony.
“now stay here like a good little brimhat slut, and you might yet live.”
