Lover's Eyes

18+ Blog - MINORS DNI. Themes of dark, obsessive 'love' and explicit language. You have been warned. Hey 🌹 I'm Rose, I'm 28 and here you'll find random drabbles I create.

[silentblinds]

Sacrificed

NSFW/MDNI. Non/dubcon. Sylus-coded dragon lord. Yandere, possessive, monster. 18+. 3.8k words ish. You're sent as a sacrificial bride to the dragon lord who terrorises your village. Shame you aren't much of the sacrificial type.

It was darker than human blood.

Viscous, from what you could tell in the dim, cavernous light. So dark it looked almost like ink. You watched it run in a slow rivulet along his cheekbone and drip to his bare shoulders. It ran between the scales there and disappeared. You breathed the parched, hot air in so tightly your lungs burned.

Your hand still outstretched from when you threw the dagger.

Laughter, raw and pitched, bubbled up in your throat. It died as a low, strangled sound escaped instead.

He turned towards you gradually. His weight reverberated across the stones, the click of clawed feet made your guts clench. It was dark enough that you only caught a glimpse of that mockingly human face – nobody looked like that, like a statue brought to life. Scales brushed the sides of his neck.

You bolted by then. Tried to, anyway. Gulping air. Agony ripped through your bare feet as your soles slapped against the uneven rocks.

It happened so quickly you didn’t even scream. The entire world lurched as your lower half was crushed.

Your legs flexed underneath him. You thrummed with something that had no place to go, writhed and screamed against a warm wall of muscle. The torchlight silhouetted him as he pinned your throat with one giant hand.

Something scaly brushed your leg, and you stopped breathing.

Your lips moved noiselessly around the old words as you stared in the dark and braced yourself. You knew this was a possibility. A probability, but it hadn’t seemed to real as when you wheezed, heartbeat thumping like a bird against your ribcage, the sharp claws choked around your neck. The dry, earthen air was still as your eyes adjusted to the dark. Slowly, so slowly.

Blood red eyes bored into yours. You met them. They were inhuman, vertical like a snake’s.

Did Horace look into those same eyes?

Did he beg for life? Or was he silent?

Did he think of you at the end, like you were thinking of him?

“You threw a dagger at me.” His voice was deep like the grindstone of Hell. “Why?”

You had rehearsed the words for weeks in your head. But when it came to it, your mind was blank. “You killed him.” You whispered. Hot tears cut through the soot on your cheeks.

You poured all the dull tightness in your chest into her final glare before you wedged your eyes shut.

That gentle smile that felt like sunshine on her skin. Placid blue eyes, like the lakeside. His sandy blonde hair across his forehead. Your hands curled at your sides as though you could feel the silken strands through your fingers again.

I love you, you mouthed with wet eyes.

There was thick silence.

Then a sharp claw pressed tightly against her neck. Your eyes flew open. His black slit pupils widened slightly in the darkness.

“I’ve killed many,” The growl made her back go rigid, “Of who do you speak?”

The silence is broken only by your shallow, ragged breaths. His claw traced your neck and goosebumps erupted in its wake.

“My fiancé,” you spat the word around shallow, ragged breaths. You tried your legs again, but they had gone numb. You closed your eyes more tightly, but just as the warmth of his image came into focus-  

“And he bid you avenge him,” his rumbling voice went on. The smile that peeked through the darkness was all teeth. You choked as the claw pressed against your throat and forced her bleary gaze on his.

“No,” you cut in, voice bone-thin. “He would never-“ your voice broke into a sob. “-Ever ask that of me,” you finished between breaths.

The claw went still. Long hair, the colour of molten silver, fell across your face as he leaned towards you. You grimaced as he inhaled deeply, tilting his head slightly.

“You’re not lying.” His voice was coloured with something you couldn’t identify. Lilted in a way that made you want to hide yourself.

Yet you couldn’t tear your gaze away from the cut on his cheek.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You nudged yourself against the edge and kicked a few pebbles.

You watched them – small, round, insignificant – as they danced and dropped off the sheer cliff. They disappeared into specks halfway down, but your eyes trained on where they might have gone, swallowed up by the thick forests below.

You stared into the abyss of trees and set your jaw. Lifted your foot, clad in a golden sandal. 

Then your eyes traced the vein of dirt path that led towards the village – tiny from here, but you’d know it even in the dark - and in the end you took a careful step back.

“Trying to fly, little one?”

You stiffened as his footsteps thundered behind you.

“I could take you in my arms,” He offered. Behind him, his dark, leathery wings unfurled slightly. You swallowed as you watched the light trace through the web of veins at the very edges. “Would that please you?” There was that usual mocking in his voice, but something about his words made you pause.

You considered it for half a moment, then tossed your head. “Nothing would please me less.” You shot back, curling your lip at him.

He snorted – you realised it was sort of half a laugh, and his red eyes roamed over you. Lingered at the places your ruined tunic showed bare skin.

“Come,” a clawed hand engulfed your arm. “I have something for you.”

There was a rancid smell in the air when you re-entered the cave. Your heart pounded as you noticed something that was vaguely human-shaped glisten in a pile of blood and ash.

You turned away and emptied your stomach, retching loudly. The dragon lord scanned the others sharply. He didn’t grimace at your sick. Didn’t seem to register it at all.

“You eat little,” he said simply. “These men will prepare your meals for you.”

From the ones that were alive, two of them still wore torn livery. One was young enough to be Horace’s brother. You pushed forward and searched his face, grabbing his chin. He seized up, scarcely breathing, eyes trained on the ground. You let him go without a flicker of recognition. Had he ripped an entire entourage from the path?

“Oh, gods,” you moaned. It reeked of piss and sick and something sour that churned your gut. “Gods – you-“

His face fell. It was only then you realised he had been watching you. He clutched a chalice from a shiny pile and hurled it so hard at one of the men, it splintered with a warped clang as it hit the rock.

“You never like my offerings.” His eyes were bright as rubies as he glared at you. Like a child to a misbehaving pet.

Offerings? Is that what they were? You bit back your reply when you saw the strange intensity on his face.

Behind them, the entourage stared with wide eyes. Some men wept openly, their sobs echoing in the cavern.

“Let them go,” you managed. Levelling a narrow-eyed glare at him. “Nothing would please me more than that.” You couldn’t help the mocking edge to your voice.

Later, you’d wish you could snatch the words back.

You still heard their screams when you lay in the crushing grip of the dragon’s arms. They echoed in your mind like on a loop – raw and animal before they dropped into nothing below.

His warm breath fanned over the back of your neck, but you felt as cold as a corpse.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

When he first took you, you weren’t sure why you had expected anything different.

Maybe because of how it had been with Horace.

Horace first took you in the meadow behind his father’s farm. Laid you softly among the bluebells, the river gurgling alongside them, and the grass had tickled you neck as he unwrapped you slowly, like a present. “I’ll go slow,” his had whispered, blue eyes wide and blown. Warm, as he traced light circles on your thighs. “Tell me if it hurts, okay? Promise me you will.”

And you had nodded, your fingers already twisting around his trousers as you lied sweetly. “I will. I promise.”

You had pressed your lips closed even as it had pinched, because you knew if you said something he would stop. So, you hiked your legs around his waist and pulled him in, rolling and panting as he lavished that smile on you. He was so timid, so achingly slow, you had to angle your hips to get any real friction at all. Anchoring yourself on the grass above your head, ripping the flowers to bits as you felt his cock finally rub your walls, barely enough to kindle your pleasure. You remember how breathless you were, how keen the pinch in your core as you grinded into him so hard he winced.

The dragon lord did not wince.

There wasn’t any warning when he first took you. One moment you were crouched in a corner of his lair, in the tattered remains of your sacrificial dress. You turned the rabbit on the spit and listened to the soft hiss as fat fell into the flames. You heard the click of his claws on the stone floor, and you half turned to see his silhouette waiting by the entrance. You couldn’t see his expression in the firelight.

“Yes?” You called out, and your own voice was the only thing that echoed back to you. That’s when you heard his breathing, deep and ragged.

Then you were crushed beneath him. Face buried into the lush rug, so deep you could taste it. Cold air tickled your back as he ripped the rest of your dress from you, so easily, as you gasped and tried to wriggle free. You could smell whatever oils he’d lathered himself in from where he his hand clutched the back of your collar, his claws brushing your ears. He pulled your arms straight and you hissed, mind racing as he forced your back arched tight, ass pressed flush against his hips as he pushed into you in one slow movement. The stretch burned so much, it made you gasp, somewhere between a breath and a sob.

Your walls throbbed against the ridges on his cock. You made a wheezed, choked noise. He began to move, slowly, and your hand tried to shoot out, grasping for purchase. He waited until he had pinned you there, his weight crushing you, before he went completely still. You throbbed around every bump – was it scaled, oh Gods, was it? –

“Move,” he growls in your ear, and it takes you a moment to decipher what he’s saying. Then the metal bites into your throat and you jerk your hips back, pathetically. His laugh is rich and dark as wine when he starts to roll his hips into you. Your mouth fell open, silent as heat bloomed up and down your cunt.

“You thought you could hide your heat from me,” He grunted, pulling taut on the golden collar, the chain swinging erratically with each powerful thrust. A moan dribbled from your throat as your hands twitched, pinned underneath you. “Did you?”

You tried to angle your legs open, pushing your ass up higher to meet him as he began to rock steadily in and out of you. He slowed until he was almost immobile, but you twitched around him as his tip pressed insistently into your entrance.

“Open up,” Warmth tickled the shell of your ear. The sound of his voice made you jolt. It was husky and raw. Breathless.

You braced yourself, then gasped as he pushed it in, ignite, white hot. He was saying something else, but you barely heard him above the way your blood rushed to your ears. You were getting slicker, you realised faintly, as he lifted himself out with a grunt – your legs quivered with exertion, and you tried to scoot forward – then he slammed into you to the hilt. You winced, expecting pain, but a delicious tremor shot down your walls. That spot. You writhed, tossing your head restlessly, clutching the bristles of the rug hard between your fingertips as his cock nudged it again and again and again. A ridge snagged that spot and the shiver that rolled through you was so intense, you squeezed your eyes shut until it hurt. Something wet and soft on your neck made you jolt, clenching deliciously around him, and it’s only through the answering moan on your neck that you realised it was his tongue.

He thrusted into you steadily, until you were babbling into the rug, weeping from the intensity. A tension from where your plush ass met his hips, and then a sudden emptiness. He pulls out so abruptly it made you wince. You collapsed forward, heart pounding, capable only of a tremulous moan. The sudden emptiness ached. Then a hot dribble coating your back.

“If my seed took root, the child might kill you,” he mumbled, voice low as he gathered you up. He sounded almost affectionate. The scales on his thighs were hot against your cheek. He held you there, wings outstretched over you both like a tent. His tongue lapped at your tears as you tried to lift yourself with shaking arms. “And I want you alive.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

How many nights had it been?

You lay there, spent, waiting for your breathing to slow again. You hobbled to the decanter that rested in a pile of silver – enough riches for you to buy the kingdom twice over, and you barely glanced at it now - and shook it unsteadily. It still had a few good swigs. Enough to get you through a few more nights, anyway. You stiffened as you felt his tail, scaly and warm, wrap around your calf.

“Poor thing,” he purred, lounging back on the silken throws. He rarely covered himself in anything but jewels and now was no exception. A slick sheen of sweat covered his body. “I forget you’ve only lain with mortals.”

You laughed unsteadily into your drink. Enjoyed the burn down your throat, tilting your head back as it went through your chest and you felt it in your belly. “I wish it had stayed that way.”

The temperature plummeted.

He stirred. His powerful bulk sat upright.

“What is your meaning?” His voice was soft, but you knew better.

You tried to keep your mouth clamped shut. But you can’t. You turned to face him, calmly.

“I’d trade a lifetime with you for just one more night with him,” you said, low and deliberate. You raised the decanter in mock salute.

Something cracked on his face, then hardened. Like magma reforming the earth.

Your breath sucked out of you when he caught you by the throat. Held your chin between his claws so hard it felt like he was scraping your jawbone. The decanter smashed to the floor, and you felt the rest of the wine coat your bare legs.

“You provoke me.” The words were thick. Your feet dangled below as you tried to brush the floor with her toes.

“Let,” you choked out. You scratched madly at his hands. “Let - go. Let –“

“I should slay you,” he growled. You had never heard his voice like this.

“Then-“ You wheezed, glowering even as your chest burned. “Why - don’t - ?”

“Because you want it.” He snarled. He let you drop to the floor suddenly. Pain shot through your hands, your knees. He released your throat and you coughed, sucking in choppy breaths. Your head was still swimming when he braced his huge arms on either side of your hips, pinning your wrists to the ground. The ruined wine soaked your palms.  He crawled towards you slowly, hand gripping and squeezing painfully. You tried to smother that little drop in your stomach as you heard the jewels hung round his neck clink together. He pressed down until you opened your legs, until his mouth was directly over your slit, hot breath fanning over your goosebumped skin.

His long, forked tongue licked your skin. On the top of your thighs. Ghosting over your folds. Kitten licks that made you squirm. Every single nerve seemed to hold its breath along with you as his ruby eyes brazenly studied your sex. Silver brows are knitted together as he leaned forward and gave your nub an experimental flick of his tongue.

A noise escaped your throat.

His eyes met yours, and you watched the candlelight reflected in them. Saw the challenge glinting in them as he pushed the hot, wet muscle hard against you.

Your eyes rolled back as you felt it, the way each side of his tongue curled, like two instead of one. He lavished your clit, and you strained and flexed your legs, but his shoulders pinned you to the rug beneath. Your core was coiling tighter and tighter as he lapped his tongue, going deeper, harder, each time a moan slipped from your lips. His nose buried deep, eyes still fixed on you, sucking and kissing you, hard, in a way that made you brace.

You tried to shut your eyes but a sharp pinch on your wrists made them fly open again. He was mumbling something into your cunt, but the deep reverberations went straight through you and made your thighs clench. You didn't know when you lost control of your voice, but your breathing went shallow and you were only capable of whimpers.

You jerked your hips up right as his tongue slid teasingly around where you needed it most, and something lit up in his eyes that made your stomach flutter.

When his tongue lavished over you again, he dragged it in slow, hard circles, each tip overlapping, until your toes curled and your head threw back and you tightened your thighs so hard around his face you heard his breathing change. You came while still rutting messily into his lips with what little purchase you had.

When he sat up, he licked your essence off his lips, and he stared at you like it was the first time he had ever seen you.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Sometimes the dragon lord wished he did remember who your fiancé was.

He wished he would have gutted him groin to sternum.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The next evening, you didn’t wait tucked under silks, half hiding and half hoping.

You shoved his shoulders down, breathing hard as you tried to keep your nerve. You didn’t wear

He smiled with serpentine focus from underneath you. His eyes as bright as embers as you lowered yourself with trembling legs.

You’re soaked, but his cock still catches – those damn ridges, fleshen dents that made your eyes flutter as you watched yourself stretch over them. You set your jaw and wriggle desperately until your thighs are barely kissing his muscular ones. You exhale shallowly, pushing down with the tips of your fingers to steady yourself. Gods, he was so big.

“Very good,” he purrs, and your eyes flashed as you shifted your hips. You gasped as your thighs began to quiver, eyes darting down to watch yourself sink further on him. There was a deep burn as you felt the ridges on your walls. The preparation you had done beforehand had made you wet, but not quite enough.

“Be quiet,” you gasp out. You were out of breath just trying to keep your balance. Hatefully digging your blunt fingernails into his scales. Ignoring the pain that bloomed on your fingertips. You twitched when he was halfway inside you. Those red eyes seemed to burn through you, through your performance, so you grit your teeth and stared at the scales that ran down his chest as you began to move. It was jerky and awkward at first, until you found the rhythm.

Your core tightened. You stifled a moan as you felt that persistent fucking ridge inside you, rubbing you clumsily from your lopsided thrusts. It was low and hot and made your fingernails curl against his hard skin. The sound of your panting was interupted by a soft, throaty groan. Your eyes snapped to meet his. His head was resting against the pillow and those ember eyes half lidded, looking drunk on you. His attention made the back of your neck prickle. You braced your fingertips on his hips and tried to ignore how good it was starting to feel as his cock nudged and curled deep inside.

The moans slipped out without you realising it. It was getting easier, slicker, and soon you were forcing your screaming thighs ever-more open, moving up and down and squeezing your eyes shut. So big - but you were ready, now. Your lips curled in a snarl as you tried to rock harder, faster, against him. His hands traced up your hips and settled on your waist. You tried to pry them off, but then his hips rolled up to meet yours, and all you could focus on were the stars behind your eyes as you felt him bottom out inside of you.

You didn’t reach for Horace that time.

You didn’t think at all.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

After the first few times, you stopped scanning the crowd for his family.

The cluster of villagers stared at your nakedness, but you kept your gaze high. Bored, as you felt the heat of the dragon lord’s chest at your back. Nestled atop his powerful thighs, his hand idly brushing your chest. Your neck and wrists were choked with gold, jewels of every colour and size dangling along your naval. You regarded the baskets of offerings set before you without comment. Piled with fruits. Cut raw meat set in fine pewter bowls, the blood pooled at the bottom. A boy with dirty, bare feet crouched beside the baskets and fanned the flies away, not meeting your eyes.

A whole season’s harvest.

“Next time,” your voice was clipped. “It will be double.”

The village elders exchanged a glance. The murmurs of the crowd began, slowly as they bowed, descended.

Something inside you left with them.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Thousands of stars winked down at you in the cool night air.

 When you reached for him, eyes closed, you frowned. Was his hair always that pale? Did his eyes always look like churning tides?

He isn’t smiling anymore.

Your chest tightened. Was this what dying felt like? When you forced your eyes open again, the dragon lord was there. His inhuman beauty regarding you patiently, a smile curving his lips.

“Can you remember how he smells?” His voice curled in your ear, dark and velvet. You stiffened as his big hands roamed over her. He laughs, the vibrations low and rich against her skin. “Has your love extinguished so quickly?”

“I don’t love you.” You hissed. The words felt hollow, and it made your nails dig into his skin. You angled your neck without thinking. “I’ll never love you.”

He stilled against you. “Love,” he murmured, as he dragged his teeth over the throb of your pulse. You felt his smile against your skin. “What use have I for love?”

[silentblinds]

Muse

NSFW/MDNI. Rafayel body painting female reader. Slight possessiveness but nothing crazy. Sweet. Hoping he used non-toxic paint lmao 1Kish.

“Be still.” He hums, brows furrowing as he flicks his gaze from you to the canvas. His warm breath fans over your skin as he peers down at you, mauve hair falls in messy waves across his forehead. His eyes are lit only by the faint candlelight and the moonlight that poured in through the windows.

It’s difficult, but you try to steady your breathing. Your arms ache from your position, and you squeeze your thighs together. Goosebumps erupt on your skin from the cool, briny air that billows in from the open balcony door. His eyes bore into yours, a frown playing on his lips. You fight he urge to lift your head, locked on him - always locked on him, the way a sunflower chases the warmth - as he carefully places the canvas aside with a tight sigh.

"This isn't working." he mutters. Pensive as your chest tightens at the thought of disappointing him. He examines his paintbrush, glaring at it as though it were deliberately misbehaving.

You're readying yourself to sit up when you feel the sudden lick of cold paint on your cheek. You blink, forcing your body to be still as you watch him advance towards you. Advancing over you until he takes up all of your vision. The smile that plays on his lips. The way his eyes skim over the way your nude body contracts, stuttered as his paintbrush swept down your cheek. Swirled down your neck, into the dip of your collarbone, and you writhed at the feeling of the cold paint tinting your skin a brilliant sapphire –

“Still.” He commanded. “Or do I need to tie you up?”

Heated eyes follow the brush as it dips to the swell of your breast. Your breath hitches as you feel the soft bristles circle closer and closer to your nipples. You startle as he presses down, firm and teasing as a little noise escapes your throat. You see him smile as he slows down, resting his wrist on your stomach. Violet eyes soak in your reactions as you shudder, shying away as your back arches.

“Good,” he purrs, voice uneven as he slowly trails the brush across to your breast’s twin. His free hand comes up to cup your freshly painted tit, smudging the nipple gently with his thumb. “You’re so sensitive here, aren’t you?” Your composure cracks as your hands fly down to grip his hands, writhing, wriggling your hips from how sensitive you are.

“Shh,” he scolds gently, slapping your hand away gently. There’s no real heat in his voice as he continues massaging, eyes dark and blown as they watch how you react. Opening up to him little by little, like a flower unfurling, as the pleasure washes over you. His Adam’s apple bobs, his full mouth parting slightly as he feels the paint on your skin. The sight of you is so delicious it ached to watch, but he can’t tear his eyes away. He lifts the brush from your nipple and sits back with satisfaction as your breath becomes labored.

“Are you worked up just from that?” He lets out a shaky breath, and the look he gives you then shoots directly to your core. Slack and awed and adoring.

“I have an idea.” He says, low. You hear the excitement thrumming through his voice and it sends a tingling thrill straight to your core. “Are you up for it?” He asks, quickly. An edge of impatience to his voice. Always so impulsive, your artist.

You manage to nod, barely, before he grips your thigh, staining you with paint there.

You try to close your legs, acutely aware of the small hairs that have sprung up since the days you have shaved. He nudges your legs open again, patiently, dark eyes flicking up to meet yours in silent command. The tension in your shoulders ease as you see the intensity in his gaze. It made you squirm, not only the way he moves the brush slowly, building everything up. It was the way he pored over you with those greedy violet eyes. Snatching up every piece of you. His eyes devour every little movement, focused on your core, parting your lips with his stained thumbs. He hums approvingly, snaking a pattern down your naval with his paintbrush, leaving a trail of blue in its wake.

“How does that feel?” He whispers, voice hoarse. His eyes are two dark pools as he watches the way you twitch. He plucks another brush from his easel, firm and rounded. Dips the paint, this time a shock of emerald from what you can glean from the dim light. Circles your clit, gentle at first.

Too gentle. Not enough.

“Good,” you manage to choke out. “Feels good. But-“ you hesitate.

“Hm?” He hums in mock confusion. Dragging the bristles slowly over your clit and watching as your cute little stomach avoiding exactly the pressure you need. “Use your words, love,” he says softly, almost mockingly.

It takes a few tries for you to work up the courage. Swallowing, squirming, until the heat that was building up in your core was dashed again by yet another careless flick of his wrist. A whine, low and needy, escapes your throat.

“Words,” he murmurs, totally absorbed by this display, his own breath shallow and uneven at this point. He watches the way your bare hips roll upwards, seeking friction, and his own cock throbs painfully against the confines of his trousers.

“More,” you breathe. “Please.”

The smile that curls his lips looks sinful. He presses down, hard, his other hand coming to trace the folds of your pussy gently. Feather light touches. “Greedy,” he coos, lush with affection. You jolt a little as one finger enters you easily. You’re soaking his lounge sofa, and let out a strangled moan as his fingers curl inside of you. He keeps lazily moving the brush over your clit as he begins to pump in and out of your squishy, hot cunt.

“Good girl,” he praises, as your hips move in rhythm with him. He edges closer to you, only pausing to change the position of your arms, splaying them above your head with the precision of an artist. “So good, aren’t you? God, you’re beautiful.”

“Don’t stop,” you whine, head lolling back so prettily on the satin cushions. He grins at you, wicked for a moment as he slows – but he can’t bring himself to tease you too badly, not when you’ve been so good for him. Not when you’re splayed on his sofa. His muse. All his.

When your ecstasy crashes over you, you grip his wrist, keeping him there. He’s so enthralled he forgets to scold you for moving without permission. He lavishes the sweet flutter of your walls around his fingers. He slides out slowly, savoring it. Teasing you, the way he does with everything. He brings his fingers to his lips and sucks on them leisurely, languid as a cat.

And just like that, he stills and something else seems to shift. As mercurial as the turn of the waves.

“Perfect,” he groans, grabbing his canvas and cradling it close to his chest as he pushes you down, keeping you pinned. “Hold on. Stay like that. Don’t move.” As he takes the paintbrush, soaked in lush paint and your arousal, and presses it to the canvas with renewed fascination. “Perfect. My beautiful little muse.”

[silentblinds]

Serve

NSFW/MDNI. Semi-submissive yandere x female reader, power imbalance if you squint, servant x noble kinda? Weird drabble

Your legs were trembling already.

The plush carpet beneath you tickled your neck as your head lolled to the side.

Eager, yearning eyes, black as pitch and fixed on you intently, drinking in every twitch in your expression. He lapped his greedy tongue from the bottom of your slit to the very top, lavishing over that sensitive pebble as one hand, practiced, skimmed up your thigh.

“Like this, mistress?” His voice was low but strained. You could hear it, that aching need to please, and some dark pleasure curled inside you at his words. You nodded as best you could with his tongue squirming over your most sensitive spot.

Those clever fingers, deft and slender, gathered your arousal and pressed a little against your entrance, teasingly light. You were breathing hard as he crawled between your thighs, nudging them slightly, and you marveled at how persistent he could be when he wanted to.

You wondered how much more he hid from you, how much of that meek demeanour was an act.

“Shall I make you feel good?” His eyes flicked over your expression. Waiting, but you could taste the impatience on him as he dragged his finger slowly up to your clit, circling it slowly.

“Yes,” you breathed, “Make me see stars,” and your hand found a handful of thick curls. He winced at the rough tug, but then he looked at you, slack with awe and –

A hunger. You saw a glimpse of it before he managed to mask it. A terrifying glimpse of utter adoration. The sensation of his finger sliding into yours – he peppered kisses on the inside of your thighs, gaze boring into yours as you adjusted. You were so wet, it didn’t hurt, but he moved his digit in wide circles, feeling every inch of your walls, smiling warmly as your toes curled and your breath hitched.

“Like this, mistress?” He purred, and his voice was pure light. “Or this?” You bit your first as he curled his finger just right, fuck, the way he always did. The rest of your composure began to crumble.

He pumped you slowly at first. Relishing it. Even when you yanked his hair in warning, muttering between moans and gasps to stop fucking around and make me cum, hw juar hummed with that faux innocence and slowed down. His eyes rolled back as he felt the pain blossom at his roots, that delicious pain that told him he was yours, and he loved it. He loved everything you had to give him, pleasure or pain,

His own arousal was uncomfortably tight against his pants as he adjusted his position between your legs. His other arm was half asleep, prickling painfully, but his focus was razor sharp as he increased the pace. You looked so pretty like this, choking on your threats as tears brimmed in your eyes, so needy, and he had to choke back his taunts because he didn’t want you to make him stop.

“Does it feel good?” His own breath was labored now, curls falling in his face as your hand gripped his wrist, guiding him further in until you felt the pad of his finger brush your cervix. You felt yourself tighten around him as the feeling became too much, the warm wave of pleasure crashing over you and you arched your back against the plush floor. Your grip was punishing, and the pain screeching through his scalp throbbed deliciously as he brought you there. He slid his finger in and out steadily until your voice was broken as you told him too much, and he pretended not to hear until your wrist wrenched him out of you.

He was breathing hard, sucking on his finger before you could tell him no, resting on his knees as he watched the way your pretty cunt glistened and twitched. At the moonlight on your bare breasts, your robe fallen slightly, as you composed yourself.

“Lick me clean.” You said without looking at him. Your voice was raw, calm. More commanding. More you.

He crawled forward, expression hazed and dreamy. He was shaking a little, you felt it in his strong hands as he delicately opened your thighs and stuffed his nose between your folds, eyes fluttering shut in ecstasy.

He took it too far, deliberately darting his tongue out to suckle on that sweet nub - he always did. You jolted, hissing something about overstimulation, but iit wasn’t until you closed your legs on him that he realized you were talking to him. He felt your pillowy thighs close around his cheeks like the best vice he had ever experienced, and then your warmth was ripped away from him. He blinked, dazed, licking his lips and tasting you on him still as you sat up and wrapped your silken robe closed.

“That will be all.” You said, voice colder, but still ruffled.

He sat back, trying to hide his smile. He didn’t move, his cock pressing urgently against the fabric of his underdrawers. “Just that today, mistress?” His voice was smooth and heated. “You’re still tense. Let me touch you again.”

“No,” your voice was exasperated, but there was a note of finality to it that made his smile fade. That ache, the bittersweet yearning.

He would just have to lay in his quarters and use his hand, biting his pillow, imagining it was you.

[silentblinds]

Hayloft

Yandere x Female Reader (2k words)

WARNING: 18+ NSFW, noncon/dubcon, somo, yandere, dustbowl vibes? Unhinged ovulation week fantasy

Summary: An opportunistic farmer’s son has his way with you after you blacked out at a summer festival.

Cole watched you through the barn rafters, the dusty slats of wood, from above. Longingly, at how your hair stuck to the back of your neck in the humid summer night. How your head went limp against his older brother’s shoulder as he helped you up the ladder, one shoe hanging from your foot.

His brother must have figured it would be easy to slip away, what with the party outside and all. He still heard the music, muffled and distant, the faint cheers and voices of the neighbors. He peered between hay bales at the snatches of skin he caught. He devoured them, dark blue eyes black in the low light as you laughed, slurred and slow, eyes half lidded as he watched his brother. You had a drink in you; he could tell by the sloppy way your fingers twisted around the ties of your dress, loosening them. He stared at the suggestion of your breasts through the pale summery dress with a kind of dumbstruck fascination that made every hair stand up on the back of his neck.

But the cold, roiling anger that boiled in his veins kept his focus.

Didn’t he deserve it more than his stupid brother?

If he had been born two years earlier, he seethed to himself, he would have been the object of your crush. He was sure of it. So he stood with his jaw set so tightly he felt his teeth clench. If his brother caught him watching, he’d beat him blue. He had considered it, weighed the risks before he gingerly hopped over the boards he knew creaked and pressed himself against a wall of hay. It was soft. Not a bad place, he admitted to himself begrudgingly as he nestled himself to a spot where he could catch a glimpse between bales. Not where he himself would have chosen, of course. He might’ve chosen the lakeside – but then again, the mosquitos, he reasoned with himself. Or maybe risked it to sneak into the guest bedroom, with the embroidered bedsheets and the pretty wallpaper that hadn’t peeled as much as the rest of the house. It had swallows on it, and Cole knew how much you loved birds.

He always paid attention. Dylan never did, even as you fawned over every idiotic thing he said. His fist closed around a handful of hay as he watched his brother lay you down. He was bigger than Cole, though not by much. But enough, a bitter part of him whispered. Enough to ruin everything.

But his brother wasn’t half as cunning. Cole gathered up the bucket, stepping quietly until he reached the edge. Sucked in a little breath. A dark thrill of satisfaction ran through him as he let the bucket fall. It clattered down to the floor of the barn, near the door where you had been carried in.

He watched as his brother’s shoulders tensed up. He released you suddenly, spooked, and Cole’s eyes narrowed as your pretty hair fanned out around you and your head knocked slightly against the hay-strewn floor of the loft. You opened your eyes, mumbled something, but you were almost out cold as Dylan scrambled back down the ladder.

He watched his brother look around wildly. He glanced up, and Cole felt his heart skip a beat as he stared right at him through the darkness. He was more than a little drunk, too, and he watched with cold intensity as he turned the bucket in his hands and glanced back up at the ladder, expression foggy. Cole snorted softly as he watched him, eyes shifting around in the darkness. He could pinpoint the moment his brother lost his nerve, how he hurried out of the barn door, banging it closed behind him.

That was his brother’s problem. He had no tenacity.

Cole stepped closer to you, still gingerly as though the creaking of wooden boards might wake you. You really were drunk. Fascination mixed with pity as he saw you there, all spread out in your nice summer dress.

“Bastard,” he whispered low as he saw how your chest rose and fell so slowly. His brother must have given you the moonshine. You almost never drank, but here you were, laid half naked in his family’s hayloft.

A cold fury racked his body, sliced through every semblance of reason as he imagined breaking open his brother’s skull. But it was impossible to linger on the thought as you laid there, so peacefully.

He swallowed and settled down beside you. He went through his plan again in his mind, and a giddy feeling rose up in his chest. He would wake you up, gently help you back down, and promise not to tell anyone. He studied your sleeping expression as he considered it. You’d be grateful tomorrow. Embarrassed, but that worked in his favor. He’d be the good guy.

His eyes darted to your sleeping form. Almost guilty.

Almost.

Would it hurt just to look?

He chewed his lip and fidgeted. Already, his blue jeans were tight around his crotch as he lifted the hem of the dress slightly. Hesitant. He tilted his head slightly, considering. He had never seen you this close when you were asleep, and he drank in the sight, his gaze intent, as he considered you. That dull ache, the familiar skip in his chest jolted as he took you in. He’s loved you for as long as he could remember, but seeing you like this…

He wet his lips. Just a look was fine, right? To see if his brother had messed with you. Yeah. Just one look. Didn’t he deserve that much?

After all, Cole had stopped him, didn’t he?

The floral pattern of the dress was slightly faded. It barely rustled as he lifted it up to your stomach, fingers trembling. A hand-me-down. He sort of recalled seeing it once on your big sister once, a few summers back, but his throat got all tangled up as he looked at you in it now, at how it fell gently all around your curves. It looked a little tight on you, a little see through. He was hypnotized as he traced the outline of your breast with his gaze. He inhaled sharply as his eyes caught on the little blush of nipple that kissed the white fabric. It sent a jolt of raw arousal straight through him, so powerful it made him laugh in utter disbelief. He crouched low, eyes wide and blown so that only a slice of blue was visible on the rim.  He leaned over you from the side. Slowly, so slowly, he licked his thumb and forefinger. Brought it to the peak of your breast and rolled the nipple between his fingers.

You stirred slightly, a little half sigh twitching on your lips. The sound was sublime. He bit his lip so hard the taste of iron burst in his mouth. He sat rigid as he looked down, at your perfect nipple as it stood erect now, and he swallowed a groan.

He had to taste it. He crooked his head over your chest, being careful not to put any pressure on you. If you woke up now, he knew you would hate him, and that thought made an awful panic flare in his chest, but he still advanced towards you as though in a trance. He lapped his tongue over your nipple, closing his eyes at how soft and how firm you were at the same time. He swore your breath caught, so he jerked his head back. He froze, his heart pounding as he held himself still.

But you didn’t wake. You rolled your head from one side to the other, and he touched a shaky hand to his lips as he stared at the wet spot he made over your tit. He could see you clearly now, the fabric clinging to you. He faintly wondered if he might die with how much blood flooded to his cock at the sight.

He clambered even closer. Lower. He pressed his fingertips to your thighs – fuck, they were so soft, so pillowy, even as he felt the leanness underneath – and tried to pull you closer to him, where the moonlight cast through the open window of the barn and a little breeze came through. You made a noise, a sort of half murmur, and he nearly jumped out of his skin.

He could feel the warmth radiating from your skin and it made him ache in the best way. Made him aware of how painfully swollen his cock was as he slowly pulled your panties down. Like opening the best goddamn present he’s ever had. They were simple, cotton, a little worn like the rest of the things you wore. It took a lot of effort to roll them down your thighs enough, but oh, was it worth it.

He made a low, rough noise as he finally saw you. Saw the dark thatch of hair between your legs, the slight glistening of arousal.

He lowered his face to your cunt and inhaled deep, his eyes fluttering until they almost shut. Please, yes. He dug his nails into his thighs as he buried his nose deeper in your bare slit. You twitched, and his heart stopped as you made a low noise, but he couldn’t stop now.

His tongue must have been warm as it darted out, because he felt your thighs twitch around him. He held onto your hips and flicked his tongue out again, experimentally. His heart was fit to burst with how hard it was beating. He half wished you were awake, so tell him if it felt good, but he kept prodding, his eyes nearing rolling back at the taste of you, oh fuck, and he rolled his hips uselessly and moaned into your cunt as he tried to gather friction.

Then you made another one of those soft whimpers, and your legs trembled a little, and he knew it must have felt good for you. The raw, hot satisfaction that ripped through him made him nudge further into you, breathing shallowly, smelling your musk as he latched onto your clit. Swirled his tongue around, peering up at the rest of your body, as your chest rose and fell rapidly. You stirred, but not much. Not until he pressed even harder with his tongue, sucking on you, drawing out that labored breath until your legs seized up around him. He savored it, pressing down firmly until he had wrung every little tremor from your body.

Then he sat back, breathing hard and quick, trying to be quiet as he shakily wiped his mouth. Licked the sides greedily as he unbuckled his jeans and thrust his hand around his cock. He’s done this countless times, squeezed the base to the point he almost hissed in pain while thinking of you, but you were really here now. Under him. You were a little more disheveled than he usually imagined, and obviously not awake, but he bit his lip hard as he heard your breathy little sounds, wet and soft from sleep as he pushed a finger inside you.

His breath stuttered as you sucked him in. You were so warm, so wet. So relaxed. He let out a little huff of incredulity as he curled his finger and watched your hips wiggle slightly, your head toss, arms still splayed out above your head. He wondered if you slept like that all the time, dazed, as he began to pump his fingers inside of you in rhythm with his own cock.

He loved it. Feeling this close to you. He had to fight to control his breathing, his pace, to savour it. He tilted his head back, eyes half-lidded as he fixed them on you, his pumps sloppier. Fuck, it was so hot, those squelching noises as he slipped another finger in. You stirred, and he didn’t slow down, breathing hard. Even as your eyelids fluttered and his heart plummeted to his stomach, as he felt your legs jerk in response to him, as the noises that poured from your lips became more shallow and squeaky.

He squeezed his cock, hard, and moaned low as his cum spurted out in ropes. It hit your perfect thighs, dripping down and mixing with your nectar, buried in your pubes as he frantically stroked himself. Sloppy and desperate as he curled his fingers until he felt your walls flutter around his fingers.

It was a long while before he slowly slid his fingers from you. He sucked them thoughtfully, dark eyes drinking you in, blown and dilated as he carefully rolled your panties back up your thighs.

By the time he had done his zip up and carefully placed the hem of you dress down over your cum-soaked legs, he had a plan.

It made it easier to leave you like that, knowing how he would ‘find’ you at dawn, the sweet concern he would plaster on his face. All sheepish smiles and shy laughter, with your missing shoe in his hands. The thrill he would feel as he would sit next to you, knowing he was still on your skin. Knowing he could still smell you on his fingers.

Knowing you were his, even if you didn’t realize it yet.

[silentblinds]

Jeans

18+ NSFW. Dub/noncon. Yandere x Female Reader.

He hated when you wore jeans.

A pure, blinding wave of irritation washed over him again as he ripped the knife along the hem, skimming up your legs, precise but quick. Just hated them, with the complicated belt, the oversized buttons at the top.

Beneath him, you twitched, strangled sounds coming from behind the gag. His chest tightened with pure elation as he took a moment to sit back on his haunches and watch you. Your eyes were on him, and he felt a little thrill at that. You were twisting your wrists, rubbed raw, and your face was red with exertion. He calmly put his weight down on your ankles. Lowered his face to your free calf and pressed a soft kiss there.

“I told you.” He hummed, his voice vibrating on your skin as he set to work again. His hand slid up your thigh, and he smiled as he felt your legs tense, as the knife came close. You were going still. Scared. How cute. He sliced along the hem of the thighs – first the left, then the right - humming tunelessly, until finally he had reached the top part.

With a careful flick, he destroyed the zipper. The buttons pinged uselessly to the side. You made another noise that sounded like you were trying to say something, probably to plead. He gazed at you again, at that serious face lit up with panic, at your wide eyes. “What’s wrong?” He was mocking as he ripped the rest from your legs, the strength pulsing in his arm. You were trembling, he saw with relish, and underneath the crotch of the jeans that fell away with satisfaction in his hands, he saw you were wearing a lacy thong with ribbons.

He laughed in pure delight and you turned your head away, fallen silent. He traced a careful finger over the fabric, loving the way your throat bobbed, the way you twitched as he circled your clit with a feather light touch. “Wow,” his voice was low and intense. “So this is what you’ve been wearing all this time? I knew it. Knew that you were just begging for me to take you, right?”

You were still looking away, eyes closed tightly as though to shield against the sensations, and this wouldn’t do. He squeezed your nub gently between his thumb and forefinger, lips curling against the skin of your thigh as you jumped. “Look at me.”

Your eyes reluctantly locked on him. He knew his curls were tickling your thigh. He held your gaze, steady, intense.

“You should always be in skirts,” He watched every single expression as his tongue slid over the fabric, wet and insistent and obscene, as his wrist worked. Knife in hand, he nicked the sides of your panties and let the lace fall away. “I want to be able to take you like this whenever I want.” His tongue, flat and heavy, slid over your clit as he pushed your thighs upward. Your breathing was erratic, uneven, as you squirmed, but a little reminder with the knife – lovingly weaved along your skin, on the top edge, obviously, he didn’t want to really cut you, of course – and you went stock still. Dark satisfaction thrummed through him to see you looking at him with that pleading expression, trembling but still, being so, so good for him.

He lavished between your thighs, dragging his tongue, closing his eyes as he tasted you. He knew you was getting close by the way your breath quickened, by the way you kept trying to hide from it, pressing your thighs against his cheeks, hard, until all he could see was you. He roughly held your down and redoubled his efforts, sucking gently on the nub until he heard that half-muffled, broken sound from the gag, until your legs were stiff as he lifted your hips and drove his tongue forward. He sucked until you were trembling, squirming in discomfort. Riding the waves until it was overstimulation. He looked up with dark, blown lust and didn’t stop until he was ready to. He licked his lips, glistening with your arousal, and pressed a hot, sloppy kiss to your thigh.

“Good,” He breathed low, sucking in shallow air. “Keep being good for me.”