cuddyclothes: (Bertie Porn)
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And we're off! Don't hold back! It's anonymous so let your freak flag fly! Not confident about your creative skills? Practice here!  The fills can be anything you want. Fics, videos, artwork and anything else that strikes your fancy. Prompts do not have to be Bertie and Jeeves only! All of the other characters are fair game (Honoria and Madeline tentacle sex, anybody?). As are characters from other books and stories. This meme might be slow to start, so please spread the word!

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Please warn for:
Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Major Character Death
Rape/Non-Con
Suicide
Attempted Suicide
Incest


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inimitable jeeves




FILL: After Red

Date: 2019-06-03 06:00 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
CONTENT WARNING: Not truly non-con, but borderline, so I’m warning anyway.

- - - - - - - - - -

Bertie Wooster was naked, and he was on his knees in front of Jeeves – tall, handsome, fully-clothed Jeeves, who was looking down at Bertie pensively, wondering what to do with the young man. Bertie’s erection rested hard against his belly, and he waited, trembling, as Jeeves nonchalantly leaned back against the desk and watched him.

Those clever grey eyes, travelling up and down Bertie’s body, stopping here, there, and then there – it made Bertie shiver with anticipation. He couldn’t predict what exquisite new tortures Jeeves was concocting in that great brain of his. It made their little game unexpected, startling in its irregularity. Would Jeeves blindfold him tonight? Would he use the cane on him?

But what made Bertie’s heart pound in his chest now was the air of detachment with which Jeeves observed him, the way he tilted his dark head slightly to the side, pursing his lips in thought. It was positively degrading, to be stripped naked and stared at; appraised like property. Bertie loved it. He wanted more of this – he wanted to be misused, abused and then disregarded, like he was nothing. He wanted to be Jeeves’ plaything.

His knees were starting to ache from kneeling. He squirmed, and the movement caught Jeeves’ eye.

‘I will not pretend to be concerned with your discomfort, Mr. Wooster,’ he said. ‘You shall kneel until I tire of it.’

Bertie bit his lower lip. He wanted to agree, to say ‘yes, Jeeves, anything for you, Jeeves,’ but he would be punished for doing so. He was not to speak, not to move unless given the order.

Jeeves lifted his drink from the desk and lazily took a sip, watching Bertie, still. He seemed composed, calm, unmoved by the situation – but the bulge between his legs betrayed his desire. He placed his glass back on the table, then deliberately removed his jacket and tossed it onto a nearby chair.

‘The completest submissiveness is your lot, and that is all,’ Jeeves said, rolling up his shirtsleeves to reveal strong forearms.

Bertie’s stomach lurched with fear and yearning and delight. It was intoxicating, this moment of absolute stillness before Jeeves finally revealed what he would do, how he would draw pleasure out of them both. Bertie’s prick twitched as he watched Jeeves push himself off the desk and walk slowly towards him. A strong hand grabbed his jaw and forcefully tipped his chin up. Jeeves looked down at Bertie.

‘Such a pretty thing,’ he whispered.

Bertie blushed. It was hard to maintain eye contact when Jeeves looked at him this way. There was no desperation or longing in his expression, just the passion that came with the certainty that he owned Bertie; that he would have him whenever and however he wanted. His hand still gripping Bertie’s jaw, Jeeves slid his thumb along the young man’s lower lip. ‘On the table,’ he ordered.

Bertie scrambled to his feet and bent over the table so low that his cheek was pressed against it, right next to Jeeves’ half-empty glass. They had played this game before; Bertie knew the rules well by now. He waited there, bent over the table, his legs spread and his backside waiting for Jeeves to claim it. He heard the sound of a lighter, and the smell of cigarettes filled the room. Bertie didn’t have to look up: Jeeves had started circling him, smoking languidly as he took in Bertie’s eager body.

‘What would they say if they saw you now?’ Jeeves hummed, bringing the cigarette to his lips. It didn’t matter who ‘they’ were: the thought of anyone but Jeeves seeing him like this filled Bertie with dread and a deep sense of shame – sometimes Jeeves would mention people by name, and Bertie knew no greater humiliation.

‘They would say: “that’s Jeeves’ boy”,’ Jeeves puffed out a cloud of smoke, then he undid his tie and left it hanging loose at his neck. He was so different from his usual immaculate, orderly self, but it made him incredibly attractive – shirtsleeves rolled up, cigarette between his lips; only slightly dishevelled. ‘They would instantly understand, Mr. Wooster, that you belong to me.’

Bertie’s face burned with shame and lust. He kept quiet, but good God, it was so difficult to keep his thoughts inside his own head. He wasn’t used to being silent.

Jeeves picked up his glass from the table and finished his drink. He discarded the glass – where, Bertie couldn’t know; he didn’t dare look up. It was usually by now that Jeeves took him, so he spread his legs further apart and waited. But then – it happened so suddenly that Bertie gasped – Jeeves struck the younger man’s bare buttocks with his palm. The blow was so powerful it made Bertie’s knees buckle.

‘I said on the table,’ Jeeves admonished him.

Bertie clambered onto the table obediently. His backside stung, and he wished Jeeves would strike him again to make it hurt more. He was so hard already… he wanted more and more and more.

‘Turn around. I want you on your back,’ Jeeves ordered. This surprised Bertie – he was expecting to be buggered roughly from behind. But he did as he was told, and when he looked up from where he lay on the table, Jeeves was leaning over him, his tie in his hands, his cigarette dangling from his lips. He pinned Bertie’s arms above his head, using the tie to attach his wrists together, and then to the table. All the while, Bertie watched, mesmerised by Jeeves’ impassiveness, the methodical, precise way he tied him up.

As his hands were bound, Bertie struggled to keep his legs from dangling over the edge of the table: he had to spread them wider and pull them back towards his chest, exposing his bottom.

Jeeves sucked on his cigarette one last time before letting it fall to the ground and crushing it under his shoe. There was something wild and cruel stirring beneath his calm exterior – it was exciting and frightening and unbearably alluring. Whatever he planned on doing to Bertie, it wasn’t any of their usual games.

‘What would they think of you, Mr. Wooster,’ Jeeves said, finally wrapping his hand around Bertie’s aching cock, ‘if they saw you now: how you let me ravish you… how you crave such degradation…’

Bertie closed his eyes as Jeeves stroked him. He felt his own defencelessness now, the vulnerability of his position, the way he was sprawled – displayed – on the table. He felt Jeeves move, heard the soft ‘pop’ of a bottle being opened, and when Jeeves’ hand returned it was slick with oil. Bertie sucked in a deep breath. Jeeves stroked him harder now, and faster, faster, until he was almost there, so close…

And then Jeeves removed his hand, and it was like the very air had been wrenched from Bertie’s lungs. He bucked his hips in frustration and opened his eyes, looking up at Jeeves questioningly.

‘Not yet,’ Jeeves answered.

Bertie clenched his jaw. It was so difficult not to speak, not to beg and plead and scream. His cock throbbed against his belly, oil pooling beneath it. Jeeves reached down and squeezed Bertie’s balls – at first the touch was gentle, almost disappointing, but then Jeeves’ grip tightened, and he squeezed so hard it hurt, it hurt and it was so good, and again Bertie thought he’d reach his climax…

Jeeves pinched the tip of Bertie’s cock firmly, and the sensation was lost. It was maddening, but it seemed like this cruel game was to go on for quite some time: Jeeves gripped Bertie’s prick again and massaged it with his fingers. He rubbed his thumb over the slit several times – the slightly uncomfortable sensation made Bertie squirm and struggle against his bonds.

‘You know it’s useless,’ Jeeves whispered, ‘I will do whatever I please with you, whether you like it or not.’

Bertie moaned and thrashed his hips desperately. Jeeves wrapped his palm around him again and gave him a few satisfying strokes; then he twisted his wrist on an upstroke and Bertie cried out in pleasure. He wanted release, he wanted it now, he couldn’t take it anymore…

‘Please, Jeeves!’

He knew the moment he spoke that it was a mistake. His aching cock was once again abandoned as Jeeves reached up and pinched Bertie’s erect nipple. The punishing grasp tore a groan of pain out of Bertie, and he struggled again, trying to turn away.

‘A proper gentleman does not beg,’ Jeeves said, squeezing Bertie’s nipple harder and twisting it.

The pain was nearly unbearable, and yet it shot waves of pleasure through Bertie’s trembling body. He was sure he would die of frustration. ‘Please stop! Please! I can’t –’

But Jeeves did not stop. Instead, he used his other hand to squeeze Bertie’s balls just as hard. Bertie whimpered and whined and sobbed, no longer struggling. This seemed to satisfy Jeeves, because he let go, and there was a brief moment of relief.

Then Jeeves’ fingers were between Bertie’s legs, eager, impatient, quickly preparing him. When Bertie looked up Jeeves had already pushed his trousers down and positioned himself – there was a look of hunger on his face that Bertie had never seen. He was lost, completely lost to his passion, not thinking properly, too consumed by lust. He grabbed Bertie by the hips and drove into his hole too hard, too fast, and suddenly Bertie felt fear rise in him, fear and anger and pain because it hurt, it hurt so much and he felt worthless and empty and in so much pain, and Jeeves was thrusting now – too much, he couldn’t…

‘Reginald stop!’ he cried out.

All at once, everything stopped. Jeeves pulled out and Bertie’s head fell back against the table. He winced at the lingering pain, panting through the avalanche of emotions that assailed him. He knew he was being untied and carried onto the bed, but it was happening far away. For a moment he was floating between relief and regret, and then finally he felt a soft hand on his face, and he opened his eyes.

Jeeves was leaning over him, carefully touching his cheek with the tips of his fingers, like he was afraid he would break him. The expression on his face was of utter horror. Bertie shook his head and reached out, grabbing Jeeves by the shirt and pulling him into his arms. ‘It’s alright,’ he whispered. He felt the mattress shift as Jeeves sat down, and then they were locked in a tender embrace. It made him feel real again, it made him feel a little more like himself.

‘I am so sorry…’ Jeeves’ lips moved against Bertie’s neck.

‘It’s quite alright, old thing,’ Bertie held him close, and for a moment he only thought of the guilt on Jeeves’ face, and how he wanted it gone.

Jeeves was shaking his head. ‘I – I lost my senses. It is unforgivable.’

‘Come now, it was nothing.’

But Jeeves had pulled the sheets over Bertie’s still-shaking body and was arranging the pillows behind his back. ‘Rest,’ he whispered, placing a kiss on Bertie’s forehead, ‘I will be back.’

Bertie closed his eyes. He felt drained, weak. He didn’t know how long he’d been alone – it felt like mere seconds. Jeeves was back with a tray: on it were chocolates, a cup of tea and a glass of water. He placed them on the bedside table and sat on the bed. His hands were now gently cupping Bertie’s face.

‘I love you,’ he said. It was absolutely heart wrenching.

Bertie kissed him. ‘I love you too, Reggie.’

‘I should never have –’

Bertie silenced him with another kiss. There was something about having Jeeves’ arms around him that made Bertie feel safe, like he was finally coming home. ‘Hold me, Reg,’ he said softly, and Jeeves did.

They lay in bed together, Bertie’s head resting on Jeeves’ chest. ‘Perhaps we need a new word,’ Bertie observed.

Jeeves’ lips grazed Bertie’s forehead. ‘Mm?’

‘Yes. I rather liked calling you Reginald. I don’t think I want to limit it to this.’

A smile – and Jeeves held Bertie a little closer. ‘Whatever you want, my darling.’

- - - - - - - - - -

I have notes for this one:

- Jeeves quotes Le Marquis de Sade when he says “The completest submissiveness is your lot, and that is all.”
- The first question I asked myself when I started writing this was: Jeeves’ POV or Bertie’s POV? I just couldn’t make up my mind, so instead of writing in first person (as is the tradition in Wodehouse fanfic) I decided to go for the more neutral third person.
- The title refers to the common color-system used as safe words in BDSM (Yellow for “be careful!” Red for “stop!”)
- It is my own personal headcanon that Jeeves and Bertie’s ACTUAL safe word is “Eulalie” (I mean, come on, it makes so much sense!) but that would’ve added a comedic element which I believe in this particular story would have been inappropriate.

Re: FILL: After Red

Date: 2019-06-03 11:14 pm (UTC)
quaffanddoff: (Default)
From: [personal profile] quaffanddoff
So glad someone filled this one! Especially with so much attention paid to the humiliation, objectification, and masochism elements, I really appreciate that you nailed those pieces of it.

I feel like third person is great when you want to get in both people's heads, but first person can be easier when writing about two men because otherwise you end up having to repeat their names a lot to clarify which "he" you mean.

I think you made the right move with the less comedic safeword but I also support them changing it for the future because Reginald is too nice a name to be off-limits.

Re: FILL: After Red

Date: 2019-06-04 08:55 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Thank you so much!

Not gonna lie, this took me ages to write because of that! I really didn't want to be repetitive but sometimes it's inevitable.

I'm glad you agree :) And yes, Reginald is such a lovely name!

Re: FILL: After Red

Date: 2019-06-05 09:15 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
It's not repetitive, because the names keep the flow going in a way "the other man" "the taller man" "the aristocrat" etc. do not.

Re: FILL: After Red

Date: 2019-06-05 09:19 pm (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
This is INSANELY hot. Unnnff! The image of Jeeves, cigarette dangling from his mouth, shirtsleeves rolled up, calm and dangerous at the same time...it will take me some time to get over it! Well done!

Well done BDSM is one of my kinks and you hit it so good!

Re: FILL: After Red

Date: 2019-06-06 09:15 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
Writer here! Oh my, thank you so much for commenting! I'm really glad you enjoyed it!

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