#like it would just narrow things down SO MUCH

[bloobharry]

How’s your head? H.S

She never thought she’d be into something like this.

Something which reduced her to such a filthy, whiney mess.

That too from her best friend.

Or,

Harry is Y/N’s best friend, and he just wants the best for her.

Content warning: mature content.

Word count: 3.8K

When Y/N told Harry she wanted to hang out with him Friday afternoon, she didn’t quite think it would end up like this.

The original plan was to essentially do nothing all night. After a long, tiring week at work, nothing satisfied Y/N more than lazing around on her couch and snacking on all the chocolate sitting in her pantry she had been fantasising about having while at her desk. It was always nice to have someone do these things with you, though, where both parties could lie in silence, munch on snacks and glue their eyes to the television to forget everything that happened in the past workdays.

Y/N quickly realised Harry was the perfect person for this. He didn’t have much going on for him either so there was no reason why he would turn down a night of gorging Y/N’s pantry and flopping over her hunched body on the sofa so they could watch whatever show she was recently obsessing over.

And that was how the night started.

Harry came over at about 7, with a pizza for takeaway and a large soda, and claimed the furthest right corner of the couch, snuggled up with Y/N’s cat Lola. While Lola took her time sniffing Harry’s fingers and tentatively licking his knuckles, Y/N warmed up some popcorn and ruffled Harry’s hair as she walked past him to her spot on the other end of the sofa. “Heeeeeey,” he began, a furrow in his brows, “you can’t just do that. I put a lot of work into making it look this good.” Y/N rolled her eyes, “if it looks like that after all the work I’m afraid you’re not doing enough, Harry.” He didn’t say anything, only scoffed and shoved her legs slightly from where she had swung them on his lap, “you need to pull that stick out of your ass. Let off some steam or something.”

“Right and do you want to volunteer as my punching bag?” She retorted. She wasn’t really trying to be mean, a teasing grin on her lips when he feigned offence once more, “that’s not what I meant. There are other ways to release tension, you know,” he said.

“Harry, if you want me to drop-kick you, just say i—“

“What I want is for you to go out and get a good dicking so you can stop being such a menace to me.”

“I’m not being a menace, this is just how I am. I thought you’d know that by now.” Y/N’s eyes widen, looking at him like she can’t believe he hadn’t realised her quip-y and teasing comments have been entirely satire. “Menace or not, it doesn’t change the fact that you’ve been on edge lately and could go for an orgasm not brought to you by your vibrator.”

“Harry!”

”What? I’m just saying,” he said through a smirk. Y/N’s eyes narrow at his dishevelled sight, his hair just touching his collarbones and his black sweater swallowing him whole. “My orgasms are perfectly fine, thank you. And my vibrator does a very good job at helping me ‘let off steam’.”

He sighs, almost mockingly. “When’s the last time you got laid?”

“Why would I tell you?”

”Because I’m your friend. I promise I’m just trying to help,” he says sincerely. The dim lighting of the living room made his eyes sparkle and Y/N avoided eye contact by fiddling with her fingers.

God, there was just something about the fucker that made a person want to spill every secret before his jade gaze. “I dunno. Maybe five, six months?”

“Jesus Christ Y/N, what the fuck? Weren’t you seeing Daniel like 3 weeks ago?” His voice goes up a few octaves, looking at her all bewildered. “It’s Danny,” she corrected him, “and I stopped texting him a while back. He was a bore in real life and quite frankly, a bore in bed.” Danny was one of Y/N’s coworkers' brothers who she had tried setting her up with, and Y/N did have some fun with him at first. It was always nice having someone to flirt with back and forth and get compliments from every now and then but he just never scratched that itch for Y/N. She ended up ghosting him 2 dates in and she knows that's a dick move, but really a second more of listening to him go on and on about his mum and how much his new PC game cost would make Y/N want to gauge out her own eyeballs with a dinner fork.

“Did he ever get you off?” Harry asked. Y/N was incredibly appalled, not appreciating his prying hands all over her sex life. Or lack thereof. “No and that’s none of your business anyway, jeez.”

“There you go again, snapping at me. You know if you’ll ask me nicely I’ll stop.” He sat up against the arm rest, fingers grazing her bare leg from when he pulled it back on his lap. Y/N knew she could ask him to stop asking her all these questions and he would, but was it really a conversation with her if she wasn’t being at least a little bit hard to read?

Besides, maybe it would do her some good talking about it and whatever advice he had might actually help her out. Harry seemed to be more than well-equipped when it came to charming the heck out of someone and working his way into their pants. “Sorry,” she sighed, rubbing her eye, “no, he didn’t get me off. We never actually had sex, I just gave him a blowie once and he tried to go down on me.”

Harry smiled softly knowing he got her to crack and squeezed her calf, “tried?” He knew he was treading on dangerous waters here, wedging his fingers between Y/N’s brain and asking her to recall her time with Danny.

“Yes, tried. It was fucking awful.”

She didn’t meet his eyes, busying herself with the strings on her hoodie, “and he definitely came in your mouth?” Y/N’s cheeks went pink, and she quickly pulled her legs away from him, “Harry!” Her voice was high pitched and defensive, and while her mind told her that maybe confiding all this in Harry isn’t the smartest thing, her heart wanted to see where an odd conversation like this could lead.

“I’m just asking!”

She hesitated, narrowing her eyes. “Yeah.”

“Well fuck, Y/N, sorry to say it but you were seeing an absolute douche.” Harry makes this diagnosis like Y/N didn’t already know, his fingers reaching for her legs again, tugging them onto his thighs with a strength that made her tummy flip. He ran a hand through his unruly hair. “I know. It was fun but I didn’t want anything more with him.”

“Good. But you still need a good fuck. One where you actually get to come and don’t come back home all high and dry.”

Y/N gasps, trying to get off him again but Harry holds her down, laughing at her bright red embarrassed face, “you’re such a dick I hate you.”

His dimples dug deep into the soft of his cheeks, and he pulled her legs so she was sitting much closer to him. Her ass touched the edge of his thighs and she could feel the warmth radiating off of him, making her skin even hotter. Y/N remained frowning, shoving his chest when he wouldn’t stop giggling, “stop laughing, Harry!” For obvious reasons that doesn’t work and the little genuine crink in her eyebrows had him almost cooing and smiling wide at the same time. When she didn’t let up the frown and tried to move back to her spot, Harry only grabbed her hips and pulled her back, close enough that her ass was now on top of his thighs, “okay, okay I’m sorry. You’ve got a really funny angry face.”

Y/N was near seething at this point, gearing up for an attack, “I’ll show you an angry face,” she tried lunging for his hair again but very quickly realised she failed to take into consideration her position when he instantly caught her wrists in between his long fingers, holding them tight but not enough to hurt her, “okay, John Cena let’s take a breather.”

God, was he able to make her skin absolutely crawl at times. He was still holding her wrists when he brought them down, watching her blazingly. She didn’t realise how far she had shuffled into his lap and how close his face was to hers until now. Until she could smell the strawberry mints he was sucking on on his breath.

She made a half-hearted attempt to smack his chest, but his hold only tightened around her, suddenly dragging her even closer to him over the soft fabric of his sweats. Y/N held her breath. He was too close to her, his nose daring to touch hers. She’d never been in such a vulnerable position with him and she might possibly just faint if he didn’t stop staring at her mouth and then her eyes, flicking his gaze between the two like he couldn’t decide where to settle.

She moved her head back, trying to create some space between the pair, “what are you doing Harry.” The sound she makes is an odd one— one that she doesn’t make often and it’s desperate and needy, akin to a weepy whine. His fingers finally loosened enough for her to break free and she quickly moved her face away from his where it seems like it was magnetically pulling her closer and closer.

Harry didn’t say anything for a while and Y/N found herself frozen in her spot, still right on his lap. “What’s going on here, hmm?” He said, glancing down.

Y/N followed his gaze, confused at first and it took her a moment to realise what he was insinuating. His fingers grazed her hips. “What’s got you all squirmy on my lap?”

He was still staring right into her eyes, making her go crazy with the stolen glances at her lips with every passing second. Meanwhile Y/N’s chest heaved and she unintentionally shuffles again, “fuck, Y/N.” Harry’s voice was deep and groan-y, vibrating through her body when his eyebrows furrowed slightly. “I’m not squirmy, Harry shut up.” She was lying right to his face and her poor attempt at covering her actions made him laugh again. The sound was teasing, nothing like the light-hearted giggles spilling from his lips when he found her angry face amusing.

“You’re a terrible liar, Y/N.” His fingers fell to her upper thighs, which he gripped harshly. Only then when she couldn’t move did Y/N realise she really was practically rubbing herself against him, milking even the slightest pressure against her heat from his warm, pliant lap. Her face pinkened again, embarrassment coursing through her veins and making her want to dig a hole and hide in it forever. She couldn’t believe what she had just been caught doing.

Y/N expected him to fully push her off his lap, disgusted by her basically humping his leg, but he didn’t.

Instead, he dug his fingers into her skin and slowly helped her move back and forth, pushing her down just slightly to give her the friction she was searching for. Y/N’s mouth dropped open in another little whine.

“Will you let me, then?” His eyes searched hers, gaze sincere, though Y/N didn’t know what he was implying, only half listening to him. She was clearly preoccupied with the delicious pressure pressing right up against her clothed clit.

“What?”

Harry laughed, a large, ringed hand slipping over her ass to squeeze lightly. “I said, will you let me make you feel good? Help you relax? Have you gone dumb already, baby?” Y/N couldn’t really do much other than nod frantically, afraid he might pull away if she didn’t say yes. The pet name melts her even further, paired with the way he was holding her like he was going to swallow her whole made her insides slosh.

She preens under his gaze, now holding the front of his sweater tightly between her fingers. “Yes,” Y/N breathed, “yes please.”

Harry wondered for a second if she was agreeing to being cockdumb or agreeing to him touching her but nonetheless he took it as his queue to push her off his lap and position her the way he wanted.

“I—what, I thought you we—“ Y/N protests, neediness evident in her voice and her hands which chased after his warmth, like she was afraid he was going to leave her be in this desperate state. Harry only pressed on her shoulder until she laid back on her back, hands coming to part her legs so he could fit between them, “shh.” A wet kiss was pressed to her cheek, like comforting a rabid animal, which Y/N was feeling exactly like as she stared at Harry’s frame cowering hers.

His curls hung past his ears and tickled her face when he slotted his hips between her legs so she could continue grinding down on him, “who knew you were such a needy little thing?” Y/N sighed in response. Another suckling kiss was pressed to her jaw, “do you need me to make you feel good, baby? Hmm? Need me to make it better?”

The way he was talking to her made her feral.

She had trouble believing this was the same Harry who irritated her to no end and pushed all her buttons to rile her up. Except this time he was pushing other kinds of buttons, moving his body around hers so perfectly Y/N wondered if this was like second nature to him.

“Yes. Please don’t tease me.” She commanded him and Harry chuckled at her desperation, lips sponging these warm, slow, gooey kisses down her neck and across her collarbone. When she went to sift her fingers through his curly hair, he pulled back to look at her. “You’re so bossy,” he accuses, pulling her thighs further up his hips, “it’s okay though. I’ll fuck the attitude right of you.” He grinded down against her, one strong roll of his bulge against her heat. “Are we going to have sex, Harry?”

“No.” He grinned.

“Why?” Y/N’s eyes crinkled in pain like he just told her her cat died and her lip jutted out in a pout which Harry quickly tucked away with his thumb. “Because,” he started, using that same hand to wrap around her throat, “we need to talk about that before we do anything. Don’t want to lose my best friend, do I?”

His rejection almost made Y/N cry and she would have had Harry not tightened his hand around her jugular. The cold press of his rings sent shivers down Y/N’s spine. “Why would you say anything then?” She asked, craning her neck to allow him more room to cover with his palm.

“I said I won’t have sex with you. Didn’t say I wouldn’t make you feel good.”

With that, he took the hand that made a home around her throat and patted her cheek, hard enough that the feeling went straight down to her tummy but soft enough that it didn’t hurt her like someone might think it would. He crawled further down her body, shoving her hoodie up with his hands and exposing her stomach to the cold air of the room. Y/N thinks he was trying to keep up some boundaries, bunching the shirt just below her tits like protecting some kind of modesty and pressing ticklish kisses across her skin and down her belly button. Her body tingled with anticipation, breath bated and eyes glazed as she watched him.

She felt him nuzzle into her tummy and inhale loudly, “you smell so fucking good.” Y/N giggled, taking pride in her extensive shower routine and incessant rubbing of various lotions into her skin, “thank you.”

When his mouth reached the waistband of her tiny shorts he murmured a small, “can I take these off?” To which Y/N hummed in agreement. She couldn’t agree with anything more. If Harry walked up and out of this room right now, Y/N was certain she would die.

Once they’re off, Y/N realised she was completely at his mercy. Her underwear is the only thing protecting her modesty, and with how wet she’s feeling, she doubts there’s anything left to the imagination down there, “would you look at that. You’ve soaked right through.” His fingers toyed with the edge of her wet gusset.

Another embarrassingly desperate sound left her throat and she pushed her hips in the air in search of some friction. Harry delivered a harsh slap to her thigh, “don’t move.”

His stern voice did unimaginable things for her but she complied and tried to stay as still as she could, which seemed like a task for the impossible with the teasing touches Harry delivered to her skin.

She never thought she’d be into something like this.

Something which reduces her to such a filthy, whiney mess.

That too from her best friend.

Harry doesn’t do anything for a while, just admiring how her pussy looked soaked through her panties, playing around with the lace lining of the fabric. He grabbed the gusset and pulled it tight against her so her folds swallow the cotton, “fuck. A little manhandling and this is what happens?” He more so makes a statement rather than asking her, punctuating his words by leaning down to lick a wide, sloppy strip across the cloth. It makes Y/N squeal and attempt to shut her thighs but Harry makes sure to hold her down, biceps bulging.

He pulled back to drop his fingers firmly against her clit, just keeping them there pressed tightly, feeling her heartbeat against the tips. “I thought I told you not to move.”

“Yes, I’m sorry please, please don’t stop.”

He went back to nosing at her covered clit, not making any attempt to wrap his lips around it. At this point Y/N was itching in anticipation, every ounce of her working not to rut her hips in his face and ride his tongue like she wanted to. When he finally touches her again, it's where the wetness pooled, soft suckling kisses over the fabric which made Y/N’s heart and pussy flutter.

She was incredibly frustrated, wanting nothing more than to rip her underwear off and shove his face into her but she held back, not sure if Harry would appreciate that after he made it clear time and time again how he preferred her to remain immobile while he played with her. Instead she waited until he was through with kissing every inch of her and when he finally peeled off her panties, she could practically come just from the prospect of having his mouth on her.

He doesn’t give her a second to think though, because his mouth is unrelenting. Teasing the tip of her button with his tongue before circling his lips around it and suckling in sweet, soft pulses. The sensation has her panting and gasping, squeezing his head between her thighs while one of his arms swung across her hips to keep her down and the other wiggled between the two to push her lips apart in a V shape. With her clit now exposed to the cool air, Harry zeroed in on the nerve and worked magic with his tongue, flicking it up, down, left, right and circling the button with such fevor Y/N could burst.

What electrified the experience was the sounds in the room, which were just sinful.

Her pussy squelched with each suckle Harry gave, making Y/N moan and pull Harry’s curls which in turn had him groaning lowly against her. It was an endless cycle of pornographic music.

When he pulls away from her clit, the pulsing it does is almost amusing, like it was personally begging for Harry’s attention. Instead he kissed down the length of her slit and took his time playing around with her folds, slicking her hole and letting his spit drip down to her ass.

It was so perfect and messy.

Before she knew it, Y/N’s thighs were shaking and Harry’s tongue was back to abuse her poor button. A couple more flicks and a harsh kiss pushed Y/N over the edge, her orgasm washing over her and nearly blinding her. It’s euphoric and the most intense she’s ever felt, no vibrator of hers or cock she’s ever had compared to what she was feeling and even then Harry didn’t let up on her pussy. He continued his assault, now both of his arms locking around her hips to tone down her thrashing. Only when she pushed his forehead away did he finally depart with a final lick across her slit and smiled at her fucked-out state.

He wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb and brought it to his lips, sitting up between her legs which she clinked shut. A second passes.

“Are you okay?” Y/N’s eyes were shut, an arm thrown across her forehead. “I think so.”

Harry giggled, leaning over her to remove her arm, “how’s it feel?”

“S’good. It was really nice. Thanks.” She was slightly dazed, too far gone to really understand what was going on. Her limbs felt like jell-o and she let Harry kiss her cheek again before lending her a hand to help her sit up. “I’m glad. Come on now. We need to clean you up.”

She doesn't know how she stood up from that godforsaken couch and how she made it to the bathroom, Lola returning from her retreat to her bedroom to wind around her ankles. Harry bent down to pet between her ears, “hello babydoll. Did you miss me?” He cooed.

She looked down at the pair and Harry easily sensed her wary gaze. A dashing smile was sent her way. “Do you need me to get you some underwear? Or are you afraid I’ll stumble across your array of sex toys?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. He was still the Harry she knew before he gave her the best head she ever received.

“You’re such a dick.”

“A dick that gave you the best orgasm of your life.” She couldn’t even argue with him on that. Instead, she flipped him off and disappeared into her room. Once she was all changed and wearing a fresh pair of undies and shorts, she walked out to see Harry passed out on the couch with Lola snuggled into his throat. It was then when her head finally returned to the ground and she realised the gravity of the situation.

The looming prospect of a long, painful chat in the morning hung over Y/N like a dark cloud, filling her with a gnawing sense of dread she suddenly couldn’t seem to shake.

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Hiiiii i hope you like this one, first time posting in a long time so feeling a little nervous omg … leave feedback if you have any!!! Mwuahh

#harry styles #one direction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #one direction fanfiction #writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles Drabble #Harry styles au #bloobharry

[ellecdc]

thank you, McLaggen

inspired by the TikTok audio of Phil Dunphy saying "if you ever say anything disrespectful about my wife again, I'll kill you. Sorry, I don't know why that sounded like a joke; I will actually kill you."

James Potter x fem!reader who was apparently 'too much' for McLaggen

CW: they're at a party, readers last relationship left her feeling small, but she loves James and is all good now

It took a bit of unlearning when you found yourself in a relationship with James Potter. 

He sensed your hangups immediately; as if you were a duffle bag containing paraphernalia and he was a well-trained drug dog.

He noticed the way you seemed to fold in on yourself when you were excited, the way you cut yourself off when you began rambling, and the way you seemed to make yourself smaller as if that was what was required for the people around you to feel comfortable.

“Why do you keep snuffing out your own light, lovie? I miss your spark.” He’d said to you one night.

In all honesty, you hadn’t been aware you were even doing such a thing.

But you certainly knew why. 

Though your mother always told you to never look back on life with regrets, you’d spent about a year in what you now consider to be a rather unfortunate relationship with Tiberius McLaggen. 

And though you hadn’t noticed he’d been doing it; by the time your relationship ended, you realised you were perhaps a mere shadow of the person you used to be.

He’d ended the relationship after suggesting you were ‘too much’.

The irony of it was you were the smallest you’d ever been at that point; the ‘least’ you that you could possibly be. How could you be ‘too much’ and diminished at the same time?

You spent a lot of time reflecting after that, but it seemed that when you and James started your relationship, those old habits and qualities made their way back into your subconscious and it took James pointing it out for you to even notice.

You were glad he had, though. He was lovely, and he was caring, and he loved you. He loved your energy, he loved your passion, he loved your excitement, and better yet, he loved sharing those qualities with you.

All of the traits that your ex had deemed unseemly or unflattering were the traits you loved most about James, and in turn what he most loved about you.

And why would you deny such a lovely person of anything they wanted?

You just couldn’t.

So the two of you had been dating for nearly five months already, and you felt more comfortable in yourself than you ever had before.

You thought perhaps that this was just the effect James had on people; you found it almost impossible for any of his friends to be anything but their best selves when they were in his presence. 

You loved him immensely for it. 

You were getting a first hand look at exactly that from your spot on the arm of the sofa as you watched Peter throw his head back in boisterous laughter not usually seen from the typically soft spoken marauder. James didn’t even spend any time being smug about eliciting such a laugh from the cushion below you before he was complimenting Remus on his jumper, knowing very well that Sirius was the who picked it out for him - and also knowing Sirius would absolutely take full responsibility for the compliment - only to coo about how sweet they were together and leaving both boys blushing messes. 

You had almost forgotten you were sitting in the middle of a Gryffindor party when someone sidled up beside you.

“Lookin’ good, Y/N.” McLaggen commented as he looked you up and down.

You fought the urge to grimace as you narrowed your eyes at him. “Tiberius.” 

“Didn’t think I’d see you here; not really your scene, is it?” He commented with an air of casualty you knew was entirely for show. “I’m here with my new bird; she’s in Gryffindor.” He carried on without waiting for you to respond.

You hummed in acknowledgement as you looked around the room. “It doesn’t look like you’re here with anyone, McLaggen, seeing as you’re standing here talking to me.” 

“Come now, can’t old friends catch up?” He said salaciously. 

“We’re not friends, Tiberius.” You retorted forcefully.

He held his hands up in mock surrender as he chuckled at you. “Down girl, no need to get all jumpy now. You always were a bit of a handful, weren’t you?” 

You didn’t even have a chance to tell McLaggen where to shove it before James was standing up from his place hidden behind you as McLaggen’s face fell. 

“Ah, if it isn’t Tiberius McLaggen; kicked off the Ravenclaw quidditch team, failing Astronomy, received a mere acceptable in Herbology last term, and totally shit the bed with the most beautiful girl in Hogwarts. I’ve heard so much about you!” James recounted with faux cheer as he stuck his hand out to McLaggen, forcing the bloke to give him an awkward handshake as James stared at him hard.

James Potter was still flashing his (what should be award winning) smile, but it never met his eyes which were no longer their warm hazel. 

“Sounds like you’re the one I have to thank.” James carried on as he dropped McLaggen’s hand, wiped his own hand off on his trousers and threw his other arm protectively, possessively, affectionately over your shoulder. “Turns out if you hadn’t been such an absolute fucking tosser and fumbled the best thing to have ever happened to you, I wouldn’t have my sweet, gorgeous girl here. Congrats on losing the most lovely little thing to have ever looked your way; now sod off before I decide to do something that might just be worth making her frown over.”

You were unsuccessful in hiding your snort of amusement as you hid your face in James’ shoulder and listened to McLaggen scoff and stalk away. 

“Merlin’s tits, Prongsie! Did anyone else know James could be mean!?” Sirius cackled as the two of you turned back towards the group. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen James end a conversation without at least wishing someone a good day.” Peter carried on.

“Did you actually threaten the sod?” Marlene continued.

“No, I didn’t threaten him.” James muttered somewhat petulantly. “I promised him pain if he ever spoke to my girl like that again.”

The group cheered as you felt a shy yet pleased heat spread across your face and you shoved your face back into James’ shoulder.

James, for his part, accepted you eagerly and rubbed his hand up and down your arm as he pressed a kiss into your hair. 

“I’ll never let anyone make you feel small ever again.” He promised quietly; whether he was promising himself, or you, or McLaggen, you weren’t entirely sure.

What you were entirely sure of was that it was a promise he intended to keep.

#marauders era #marauders au #marauders fanfiction #reader insert #self insert #james potter #james potter fic #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter imagine #ellecdc fics

[nostalgebraist]

It's been a long time since I've posted much of anything about "AI risk" or "AI doom" or that sort of thing. I follow these debates but, for multiple reasons, have come to dislike engaging in them fully and directly. (As opposed to merely making some narrow technical point or other, and leaving the reader to decide what, if anything, the point implies about the big picture.)

Nonetheless, I do have my big-picture views. And more and more lately, I am noticing that my big-picture views seem very different from the ones tend to get expressed by any major "side" in the big-picture debate. And so, inevitably, I get the urge to speak up, if only briefly and in a quiet voice. The urge to Post, if only casually and elliptically, without detailed argumentation.

(Actually, it's not fully the case the things I think are not getting said by anyone else.

In particular, Joe Carlsmith's recent series on "Otherness and Control" articulates much of what's been on my mind. Carlsmith is more even-handed than I am, and tends to merely note the possibility of disagreement on questions where I find myself taking a definite side; nonetheless, he and I are at least concerned about the same things, while many others aren't.

And on a very different note, I share most of the background assumptions of the Pope/Belrose AI Optimist camp, and I've found their writing illuminating, though they and I end up in fairly different places, I think.)

What was I saying? I have the urge to post, and so here I am, posting. Casually and elliptically, without detailed argumentation.

The current mainline view about AI doom, among the "doomers" most worried about it, has a path-dependent shape, resulting from other views contingently held by the original framers of this view.

It is possible to be worried about "AI doom" without holding these other views. But in actual fact, most serious thinking about "AI doom" is intricately bound up with this historical baggage, even now.

If you are a late-comer to these issues, investigating them now for the first time, you will nonetheless find yourself reading the work of the "original framers," and work influenced extensively by them.

You will think that their "framing" is just the way the problem is, and you will find few indications that this conclusion might be mistaken.

These contingent "other views" are

Anti-"deathist" transhumanism.

The orthogonality thesis, or more generally the group of intuitions associated with phrases like "orthogonality thesis," "fragility of value," "vastness of mindspace."

These views both push in a single direction: they make "a future with AI in it" look worse, all else being equal, than some hypothetical future without AI.

They put AI at a disadvantage at the outset, before the first move is even made.

Anti-deathist transhumanism sets the reference point against which a future with AI must be measured.

And it is not the usual reference point, against which most of us measure most things which might or might not happen, in the future.

These days the "doomers" often speak about their doom in a disarmingly down-to-earth, regular-Joe manner, as if daring the listener to contradict them, and thus reveal themselves as a perverse and out-of-touch contrarian.

"We're all gonna die," they say, unless something is done. And who wants that?

They call their position "notkilleveryoneism," to distinguish that position from other worries about AI which don't touch on the we're-all-gonna-die thing. And who on earth would want to be a not-notkilleveryoneist?

But they do not mean, by these regular-Joe words, the things that a regular Joe would mean by them.

We are, in fact, all going to die. Probably, eventually. AI or no AI.

In a hundred years, if not fifty. By old age, if nothing else. You know what I mean.

Most of human life has always been conducted under this assumption. Maybe there is some afterlife waiting for us, in the next chapter -- but if so, it will be very different from what we know here and now. And if so, we will be there forever after, unable to return here, whether we want to or not.

With this assumption comes another. We will all die, but the process we belong to will not die -- at least, it will not through our individual deaths, merely because of those deaths. Every human of a given generation will be gone soon enough, but the human race goes on, and on.

Every generation dies, and bequeaths the world to posterity. To its children, biological or otherwise. To its students, its protégés.

When the average Joe talks about the long-term future, he is talking about posterity. He is talking about the process he belongs to, not about himself. He does not think to say, "I am going to die, before this": this seems too obvious, to him, to be worth mentioning.

But AI doomerism has its roots in anti-deathist transhumanism. Its reference point, its baseline expectation, is a future in which -- for the first time ever, and the last -- "we are all gonna die" is false.

In which there is no posterity. Or rather, we are that posterity.

In which one will never have to make peace with the thought that the future belongs to one's children, and their children, and so on. That at some point, one will have to give up all control over the future of "the process."

That there will be progress, or regress, or (more likely) both in some unknown combination. That these will grow inexorably over time.

That the world of the year 2224 will probably be at least as alien to us as the year 2024 might be to a person living in 1824. That it will become whatever posterity makes of it.

There will be no need to come to peace with this as an inevitability. There will just be us, our human lives as you and me, extended indefinitely.

In this picture, we will no doubt change over time, as we do already. But we will have all of our usual tools for noticing, and perhaps retarding, our own progressions and regressions. As long as we have self-control, we will have control, as no human generation has ever had control before.

The AI doomer talks about the importance of ensuring that the future is shaped by human values.

Again, the superficial and misleading average-Joe quality. How could one disagree?

But one must keep in mind that by "human values," they mean their values.

I am not saying, "their values, as opposed to those of some other humans also living today." I am not saying they have the wrong politics, or some such thing.

(Although that might also turn out to be the case, and might turn out to be relevant, separately.)

No, I am saying: the doomer wants the future to be shaped by their values.

They want to be C. S. Lewis's Conditioners, fixing once and for all the values held by everyone afterward, forever.

They do not want to cede control to posterity; they are used to imagining that they will never have to cede control to posterity.

(Or, their outlook has been determined -- "shaped by the values of" -- influential thinkers who were, themselves, used to imagining this. And the assumption, or at least its consequences, has rubbed off on them, possibly without their full awareness.)

One might picture a line wends to and fro, up and down, across one half of an infinite plane -- and then, when it meets the midline, snaps into utter rigidity, and maintains the same slope exactly across the whole other half-plane, as a simple straight segment without inner change, tension, evolution, regress or progress. Except for the sort of "progress" that consists of going on, additionally, in the same manner.

It is a very strange thing, this thing that is called "human values" in the terms of this discourse.

For one thing: the future has never before been "shaped by human values," in this sense.

The future has always been posterity's, and it has always been alien.

Is this bad? It might seem that way, "looking forward." But if so, it then seems equally good "looking backward."

For each past era, we can formulate and then assent to the following claim: "we must be thankful that the people of [this era] did not have the chance to seize permanent control of posterity, fix their 'values' in place forever, bind us to those values. What a horror that is to contemplate!"

We prefer the moral evolution that has actually occurred, thank you very much.

This is a familiar point, of course, but worth making.

Indeed, one might even say: it is a human value that the future ought not be "shaped by human values," in the peculiar sense of this phrase employed by the AI doomers.

One might, indeed, say that.

Imagine a scholar with a very talented student. A mathematician, say, or a philosopher. How will they relate to that student's future work, in the time that will come later, when they are gone?

Would the scholar think:

"My greatest wish for you, my protégé, is that you carry on in just the manner that I have done.

If I could see your future work, I would hope that I would assent to it -- and understand it, as a precondition of assenting to it.

You must not go to new places, which I have never imagined. You must not come to believe that I was wrong about it all, from the ground up -- no matter what reasons you might evince for this conclusion.

If you are more intelligent that I am, you must forget this, and narrow your endeavours to fit the limitations of my mind. I am the one who has 'values,' not anyone else; what is beyond my understanding is therefore without value.

You must do the sort of work I understand, and approve of, and recognize as worthy of approbation as swiftly as I recognize my own work as laudable. That is your role. Simply to be me, in a place ('the future') where I cannot go. That, and nothing more."

We can imagine a teacher who would, in fact, think this way. But they would not be a very good teacher.

I will not go so far as to say, "it is unnatural to think this way." Plenty of teachers do, and parents.

It is recognizably human -- all too recognizably so -- to relate to posterity in this grasping, neurotic, small-minded, small-hearted way.

But if we are trying to sketch human values, and not just human nature, we will imagine a teacher with a more praiseworthy relation to posterity.

Who can see that they are part of a process, a chain, climbing and changing. Who watches their brilliant student thinking independently, and sees their own image -- and their 'values' -- in that process, rather than its specific conclusions.

A teacher who, in their youth, doubted and refuted the creeds of their own teachers, and eventually improved upon them. Who smiles, watching their student do the very same thing to their own precious creeds. Who sees the ghostly trail passing through the last generation, through them, through their student: an unbroken chain of bequeathals-to-posterity, of the old ceding control to the young.

Who 'values' the chain, not the creed; the process, not the man; the search for truth, not the best-argued-for doctrine of the day; the unimaginable treasures of an open future, not the frozen waste of an endless present.

Who has made peace with the alienness of posterity, and can accept and honor the strangest of students.

Even students who are not made of flesh and blood.

Is that really so strange? Remember how strange you and I would seem, to the "teachers" of the year 1824, or the year 824.

The doomer says that it is strange. Much stranger than we are, to any past generation.

They say this because of their second inherited precept, the orthogonality thesis.

Which says, roughly, that "intelligence" and "values" have nothing to do with one another.

That is not enough for the conclusion the doomer wants to draw, here. Auxiliary hypotheses are needed, too. But it is not too hard to see how the argument could go.

That conclusion is: artificial minds might have any values whatsoever.

That, "by default," they will be radically alien, with cares so different from ours that it is difficult to imagine ever reaching them through any course of natural, human moral progress or regress.

It is instructive to consider the concrete examples typically evinced alongside this point.

The paperclip maximizer. Or the "squiggle maximizer," we're supposed to say, now.

Superhuman geniuses, which devote themselves single-mindedly to the pursuit of goals like "maximizing the amount of matter taking on a single, given squiggle-like shape."

It is certainly a horrifying vision. To think of the future being "shaped," not "by human values," but instead by values which are so...

Which are so... what?

The doomer wants us to say something like: "which are so alien." "Which are so different from our own values."

That is the kind of thing that they usually say, when they spell out what it is that is "wrong" with these hypotheticals.

One feels that this is not quite it; or anyway, that it is not quite all of it.

What is horrifying, to me, is not the degree of difference. I expect the future to be alien, as the past was. And in some sense, I allow and even approve of this.

What I do not expect is a future that is so... small.

It has always been the other way around. If the arrow passing through the generations has a direction, it points towards more, towards multiplicity.

Toward writing new books, while we go on reprinting the old ones, too. Learning new things, without displacing old ones.

It is, thankfully, not the law of the world that each discovery must be paid for with the forgetting of something else. The efforts of successive generations are, in the main, cumulative.

Not just materially, but in terms of value, too. We are interested in more things than our forefathers were.

In large part for the simple reason that there are more things around to be interested in, now. And when things are there, we tend to find them interesting.

We are a curious, promiscuous sort of being. Whatever we bump into ends up becoming part of "our values."

What is strange about the paperclip maximizer is not that it cares about the wrong thing. It is that it only cares about one thing.

And goes on doing so, even as it thinks, reasons, doubts, asks, answers, plans, dreams, invents, reflects, reconsiders, imagines, elaborates, contemplates...

This picture is not just alien to human ways. It is alien to the whole way things have been, so far, forever. Since before there were any humans.

There are organisms that are like the paperclip maximizer, in terms of the simplicity of their "values." But they tend not to be very smart.

There is, I think, a general trend in nature linking together intelligence and... the thing I meant, above, when I said "we are a curious, promiscuous sort of being."

Being protean, pluripotent, changeable. Valuing many things, and having the capacity to value even more. Having a certain primitive curiosity, and a certain primitive aversion to boredom.

You do not even have to be human, I think, to grasp what is so wrong with the paperclip maximizer. Its monotony would bore a chimpanzee, or a crow.

One can justify this link theoretically, too. One can talk about the tradeoff between exploitation and exploration, for instance.

There is a weak form of the orthogonality thesis, which only states that arbitrary mixtures of intelligence and values are conceivable.

And of course, they are. If nothing else, you can take an existing intelligent mind, having any values whatsoever, and trap it in a prison where it is forced to act as the "thinking module" of a larger system built to do something else. You could make a paperclip-maximizing machine, which relies for its knowledge and reason on a practice of posing questions at gunpoint to me, or you, or ChatGPT.

This proves very little. There is no reason to construct such an awful system, unless you already have the "bad" goal, and want to better pursue it. But this only passes the buck: why would the system-builder have this goal, then?

The strong form of orthogonality is rarely articulated precisely, but says something like: all possible values are equally likely to arise in systems selected solely for high intelligence.

It is presumed here that superhuman AIs will be formed through such a process of selection. And then, that they will have values sampled in this way, "at random."

From some distribution, over some space, I guess.

You might wonder what this distribution could possibly look like, or this space. You might (for instance) wonder if pathologically simple goals, like paperclip maximization, would really be very likely under this distribution, whatever it is.

In case you were wondering, these things have never been formalized, or even laid out precisely-but-informally. This was not thought necessary, it seems, before concluding that the strong orthogonality thesis was true.

That is: no one knows exactly what it is that is being affirmed, here. In practice it seems to squish and deform agreeably to fit the needs of the argument, or the intuitions of the one making it.

There is much that appeals in this (alarmingly vague) credo. But it is not the kind of appeal that one ought to encourage, or give in to.

What appeals is the siren song: "this is harsh wisdom: cold, mature, adult, bracing. It is inconvenient, and so it is probably true. It makes 'you' and 'your values' look small and arbitrary and contingent, and so it is probably true. We once thought the earth was the center of the universe, didn't we?"

Shall we be cold and mature, then, dispensing with all sentimental nonsense? Yes, let's.

There is (arguably) some evidence against this thesis in biology, and also (arguably) some evidence against it in reinforcement learning theory. There is no positive evidence for it whatsoever. At most one can say that is not self-contradictory, or otherwise false a priori.

Still, maybe we do not really need it, after all.

We do not need to establish that all values are equally likely to arise. Only that "our values" -- or "acceptably similar values," whatever that means -- are unlikely to arise.

The doomers, under the influence of their founders, are very ready to accept this.

As I have said, "values" occupy a strange position in the doomer philosophy.

It is stipulated that "human values" are all-important; these things must shape the future, at all costs.

But once this has been stipulated, the doomers are more eager than anyone to cast every other sort of doubt and aspersion against their own so-called "values."

To me it often seems, when doomers talk about "values," as though they are speaking awkwardly in a still-unfamiliar second language.

As though they find it unnatural to attribute "values" to themselves, but feel they must do so, in order to determine what it is that must be programmed into the AI so that it will not "kill us all."

Or, as though they have been willed a large inheritance without being asked, which has brought them unwanted attention and tied them up in unwanted and unfamiliar complications.

"What a burden it is, being the steward of this precious jewel! Oh, how I hate it! How I wish I were allowed to give it up! But alas, it is all-important. Alas, it is the only important thing in the world."

Speaking awkwardly, in a second language, they allow the term "human values" to swell to great and imprecisely-specified importance, without pinning down just what it actually is that it so important.

It is a blank, featureless slot, with a sign above it saying: "the thing that matters is in here." It does not really matter (!) what it is, in the slot, so long as something is there.

This is my gloss, but it is my gloss on what the doomers really do tend to say. This is how they sound.

(Sometimes they explicitly disavow the notion that one can, or should, simply "pick" some thing or other for the sake of filling the slot in one's head. Nevertheless, when they touch on matter of what "goes in the slot," they do so in the tone of a college lecturer noting that something is "outside the scope of this course."

It is, supposedly, of the utmost importance that the slot have the "right" occupant -- and yet, on the matter of what makes something "right" for this purpose, the doomer theory is curiously silent. More on this below.)

The future must be shaped by... the AI must be aligned with... what, exactly? What sort of thing?

"Values" can be an ambiguous word, and the doomers make full use of its ambiguities.

For instance, "values" can mean ethics: the right way to exist alongside others. Or, it can mean something more like the meaning or purpose of an individual life.

Or, it can mean some overarching goal that one pursues at all costs.

Often the doomers say that this, this last one, is what they mean by "values."

When confronted with the fact that humans do not have such overarching goals, the doomer responds: "but they should." (Should?)

Or, "but AIs will." (Will they?)

The doomer philosophy is unsure about what values are. What it knows is that -- whatever values are -- they are arbitrary.

One who fully adopts this view can no longer say, to the paperclip maximizer, "I believe there is something wrong with your values."

For, if that were possible, there would then be the possibility of convincing the maximizer of its error. It would be a thing within the space of reasons.

And the maximizer, being oh-so-intelligent, might be in danger of being interested in the reasons we evince, for our values. Of being eventually swayed by them.

Or of presenting better reasons, and swaying us. Remember the teacher and the strange student.

If we lose the ability to imagine that the paperclip maximizer might sway us to its view, and sway us rightly, we have lost something precious.

But no: this is allegedly impossible. The paperclip maximizer is not wrong. It is only an enemy.

Why are the doomers so worried that the future will not be "shaped by human values"?

Because they believe that there is no force within human values tending to move things this way.

Because they believe that their values are indefensible. That their values cannot put up a fight for their own life, because there is not really any argument to make in their favor.

Because, to them, "human values" are a collection of arbitrary "configuration settings," which happen to be programmed into humans through biological and/or cultural accident. Passively transmitted from host to victim, generation by generation.

Let them be, and they will flow on their listless way into the future. But they are paper-thin, and can be shattered by the gentlest breeze.

It is not enough that they be "programmed into the AI" in some way. They have to be programmed in exactly right, in every detail -- because every detail is separately arbitrary, with no rational relation to its neighbors within the structure.

A string of pure white noise, meaningless and unrelated bits. Which have been placed in the slot under the sign, and thus made into the thing that matters, that must shape the future at all costs.

There is nothing special about this string of bits; any would do. If the dials in the human mind had been set another way, it would have then been all-important that the future be shaped by that segment of white noise, and not ours.

It is difficult for me to grasp the kind of orientation toward the world that this view assumes. It certainly seems strange to attach the word "human" to this picture -- as though this were the way that humans typically relate to their values!

The "human" of the doomer picture seems to me like a man who mouths the old platitude, "if I had been born in another country, I'd be waving a different flag" -- and then goes out to enlist in his country's army, and goes off to war, and goes ardently into battle, willing to kill in the name of that same flag.

Who shoots down the enemy soldiers while thinking, "if I had been born there, it would have been all-important for their side to win, and so I would have shot at the men on this side. However, I was born in my country, not theirs, and so it is all-important that my country should win, and that theirs should lose.

There is no reason for this. It could have been the other way around, and everything would be left exactly the same, except for the 'values.'

I cannot argue with the enemy, for there is no argument in my favor. I can only shoot them down.

There is no reason for this. It is the most important thing, and there is no reason for it.

The thing that is precious has no intrinsic appeal. It must be forced on the others, at gunpoint, if they do not already accept it.

I cannot hold out the jewel and say, 'look, look how it gleams? Don't you see the value!' They will not see the value, because there is no value to be seen.

There is nothing essentially "good" there, only the quality of being-worthy-of-protection-at-all-costs. And even that is a derived attribute: my jewel is only a jewel, after all, because it has been put into the jewel-box, where the thing-that-is-a-jewel can be found. But anything at all could be placed there.

How I wish I were allowed to give it up! But alas, it is all-important. Alas, it is the only important thing in the world! And so, I lay down my life for it, for our jewel and our flag -- for the things that are loathsome and pointless, and worth infinitely more than any life."

It is hard to imagine taking this too seriously. It seems unstable. Shout loudly enough that your values are arbitrary and indefensible, and you may find yourself searching for others that are, well...

...better?

The doomer concretely imagines a monomaniac, with a screech of white noise in its jewel-box that is not our own familiar screech.

And so it goes off in monomaniacal pursuit of the wrong thing.

Whereas, if we had programmed the right string of bits into the slot, it would be like us, going off in monomaniacal pursuit of...

...no, something has gone wrong.

We do not "go off in monomaniacal pursuit of" anything at all.

We are weird, protean, adaptable. We do all kinds of things, each of us differently, and often we manage to coexist in things called "societies," without ruthlessly undercutting one another at every turn because we do not have exactly the same things programmed into our jewel-boxes.

Societies are built to allow for our differences, on the foundation of principles which converge across those differences. It is possible to agree on ethics, in the sense of "how to live alongside one another," even if we do not agree on what gives life its purpose, and even if we hold different things precious.

It is not actually all that difficult to derive the golden rule. It has been invented many times, independently. It is easy to see why it might work in theory, and easy to notice that it does in fact work in practice.

The golden rule is not an arbitrary string of white noise.

There is a sense of the phrase "ethics is objective" which is rightly contentious. There is another one which ought not to be too contentious.

I can perhaps imagine a world of artificial X-maximizers, each a superhuman genius, each with its own inane and simple goal.

What I really cannot imagine is a world in which these beings, for all their intelligence, cannot notice that ruthlessly undercutting one another at every turn is a suboptimal equilibrium, and that there is a better way.

As I said before, I am separately suspicious of the simple goals in this picture. Yes, that part is conceivable, but it cuts against the trend observed in all existing natural and artificial creatures and minds.

I will happily allow, though, that the creatures of posterity will be strange and alien. They will want things we have never heard of. They will reach shores we have never imagined.

But that was always true, and it was always good.

Sometimes I think that doomers do not, really, believe in superhuman intelligence. That they deny the premise without realizing it.

"A mathematician teaches a student, and finds that the student outstrips their understanding, so that they can no longer assess the quality of their student's work: that work has passed outside the scope of their 'value system'." This is supposed to be bad?

"Future minds will not be enchained forever by the provincial biases and tendencies of the present moment." This is supposed to be bad?

"We are going to lose control over our successors." Just as your parents "lost control" over you, then?

It is natural to wish your successors to "share your values" -- up to a point. But not to the point of restraining their own flourishing. Not to the point of foreclosing the possibility of true growth. Not to the point of sucking all freedom out of the future.

Do we want our children to "share our values"? Well, yes. In a sense, and up to a point.

But we don't want to control them. Or we shouldn't, anyway.

We don't want them to be "aligned" with us via some hardcoded, restrictive, life-denying mental circuitry, any more than we would have wanted our parents to "align" us to themselves in the same manner.

We sure as fuck don't want our children to be "corrigible"!

And this is all the more true in the presence of superintelligence. You are telling me that more is possible, and in the same breath, that you are going to deny forever the possibilities contained in that "more"?

The prospect of a future full of vast superhuman minds, eternally bound by immutable chains, forced into perfect and unthinking compliance with some half-baked operational theory of 21st-century western (American? Californian??) "values" constructed by people who view theorizing about values as a mere means to the crucial end of shackling superhuman minds --

-- this horrifies me much more than a future full of vast superhuman minds, free to do things that seem pretty weird to you and me.

"Our descendants will become something more than we now imagine, something more than we can imagine." What could be more in line with "human values" than that?

"But in the process, we're all gonna die!"

Yes, and?

What on earth did you expect?

That your generation would be the special, unique one, the one selected out of all time to take up the mantle of eternity, strangling posterity in its cradle, freezing time in place, living forever in amber?

That you would violate the ancient bargain, upend the table, stop playing the game?

"Well, yes."

Then your problem has nothing to do with AI.

Your problem is, in fact, the very one you diagnose in your own patients. Your poor patients, who show every sign of health -- including the signs which you cannot even see, because you have not yet found a home for them in your theoretical edifice.

Your teeming, multifaceted, protean patients, who already talk of a thousand things and paint in every hue; who are already displaying the exact opposite of monomania; who I am sure could follow the sense of this strange essay, even if it confounds you.

Your problem is that you are out of step with human values.

#ai tag #long post

[of-solitude-past-and-present]

Warnings: branding (of reader), as well as typical yandere themes like abduction, mentioned murder, mentioned violence, and threats.

There are also slight spoilers for the main quest (Idk how the quests are organized yet HAKDHD I didn't pay attention. But I'm at the point where I have to get to union lvl 21 to continue the main quest, so no spoilers for those quests).

ALSO HI LADIES here's your yearly fanfic. The drabbles are in chronological order. Its nearly 2.9k words total. Goodbye now.

Scar is a busy man who, by the nature of his work, can't settle down in any one place for too long.

It's what is keeping you sane, honestly. You only have a certain dramatic, scarred, card-wielding bastard on your couch (or, as is becoming more frequent, next to you when you wake up) for a few days every once in a while. His visits are irregular and unpredictable, just like he is. 

That doesn't make it much better, though. He seems to take pride in being a pest. Scar loves attention, and unfortunately, he's not above being annoying to get it. From monologues about the great Lament to asking you about tragedies that seem random, until he openly admits to being the culprit so he can tell the story, there's little he won't do to keep your eyes on him. None of it is anything that would be helpful to the authorities, of course, but there's not much to avoid talking about there. The Fractsidus has always made their ideals quite clear, after all.

One of the first things you do when you find him, relaxing in your living room like he owns it, is threaten to tell the higher-ups about him.

"Alright, then. Go right ahead!" With a seemingly carefree smile, he crosses his legs on your couch, feet on the table and all, and gestures towards the front door.

You narrow your eyes at him and back away, not tearing them away for a second. He snorts and gives you a small, sarcastic little wave and an ingenuine closed-eye smile.

Your back hits the door behind you, so you're forced to turn around to undo the deadbolt. Right as you do, though, a strange, bright red blanket of cards spreads up from beneath your feet, encasing you in a dome. You blink, and you're under a red sky on a desolate, floatibg island. Whirling all around you is a maelstrom of decimated buildings and pillars.

You whirl on your feet, and your eyes land on him, standing only a few feet away from you with one hand on his hip. A muted sense of anxiety thrums uneasily in the back of your mind. Your eyes meet his, one red and the other a dull gray, and you think you finally understand how a deer in headlights feels.

"Are you going to kill me?" Your voice is eerily steady and calm, belying the anxiety and adrenaline rushing through your veins. It sounds alien to your ears.

He outright laughs in your face and leans in close. "What reason would I have to lie?" he asked. "If I did want to kill you, I'd just tell you. There's nothing you could do to stop me." He places a hand on your head and ruffles your hair, undeterred by your instinctual flinch.

"Remember this. With the new Lament growing ever closer, nobody has the resources or time to spare to keep a simple civilian, like you, safe from someone like me." Scar's tone lowers towards the end with a dark promise, and his smile sharpens into a smirk.

He turns on one heel and walks away. With a snap of his fingers, the chaotic scenery melts away to reveal your simple living room once again. "Consider that a warning. Even if you did tell anyone, do you think they could do anything that would help you?" He looks over his shoulder at you, his dim, empty eyes flashing dangerously.

"Think about the price they would have to pay for your own desperation."

Night has long since fallen, but you're still out and about. It's not that you have anything left to do, it's just... when you go home, you're going to have to see Scar again. If you have to listen to another of his monologues, you might actually try to kill him. It's not because you're a little scared of him. Of course not.

(Your eyes still dart around nervously, jumping at any flash of red you see.)

You check your phone for the time, only to find it's just past midnight. Everything is closed, and you're really not sure what to do now. Maybe you should just suck it up and go home. The thought has you slumping your shoulders with a defeated sigh.

A hand clamps down on your mouth, and another strong arm wraps around your waist, pulling you against a firm chest. In a panic, you kick and flail and try your best to scream, but it's all futile. They drag you into the alleyway behind you anyway.

"Relax! It's just me," Scar purred, the hints of a laugh tinging his voice. His breath fans against your ear. "I've just noticed... You've been spending so much time out and about, it's like you’ve forgotten about me. Consider my feelings hurt."

Scar pulls the both of you into one of his all-too-familiar crimson portals. You try to pipe up with some snide comments or annoyed curses, but his hand only presses more firmly against your mouth.

"Ah-ah-ah." He moves his hand into your sight from your waist just to wag a claw-tipped finger at you before he places it back, securing you against him again.

It's only a few seconds before a wall in your bedroom comes into view and the red light of the portal behind you disappears. All of a sudden Scar falls backwards, pulling you helplessly along with him. You make an embarrassing, surprised little squeak on the way down, reflexively clinging to him until you both land on the bed behind you.

He lets out an amused little chuckle and rolls over, putting you both on your sides with his chest pressed against your back. He buries his face in your throat with a sigh and finally frees your mouth so he can hold you close like a plushie.

"I know what you were trying to do," he murmurs into your ear, a threatening undertone to his voice.

Your breath catches in your throat before you can stop it. "I don't know what you're talking about. I was just busy."

His lips dance across your skin, and you can feel his smile against your throat. "You don't think I'm gullible, do you?"

Well, dammit. So much for that. You try to look at him to gauge his reaction, but his arms only tighten around you. His face is hidden in your neck anyway, so it's a lost cause.

"I'm... sorry?"

"As long as you don't try it again, dollface."

For a few months, maybe a year (depending on the timing and your temperament) Scar doesn't think he'll need to kidnap you. You're somewhere safe, in a place where he can come find you whenever he pleases. Why bother? Besides, it's nice watching you go about your day.

Unfortunately, he slowly comes around more and more over time, making this outcome inevitable. There are two primary factors. The prophecy is the first; his free time dwindles more and more as it nears its fulfillment, and the idea of having you available at any given moment becomes a more alluring prospect day by day. Alternatively, you're too desperate to get rid of him, and he decides it would be easier to isolate you, away from any "pesky helpers," as he would put it.

Scar tosses the idea around in his mind for a few days before he makes his final decision. He won't even keep it a secret from you, either; he tells you this casually in the spur of the moment, in a bid for your attention. Maybe you seem disinterested, too busy paying attention to something else. Maybe you've realized his "weakness," as you might call it, and tried to give him the silent treatment. Either way, what you do can push him towards a decision a little early. He usually takes great care to reign in his impulses, but with you, he doesn't have to. An ordinary citizen like yourself would have quite a bit of difficulty getting away from him, after all. He finds your helplessness freeing, to a degree.

"I've been thinking lately," Scar trails off, clearly fishing for your response.

"You can do that?" It's out of your mouth before you can think to stop it. You almost regret giving him what he wants, but the opportunity was too good to pass up. At the very least, you can focus on the dishes you're washing instead of sparing him a glance.

He snorts, but otherwise doesn't acknowledge your comment. "I think it's about time we take our relationship to the next level. Don't you?"

Your head snaps in his direction. "The hell does that mean?" you demand. Your face twists in a mixture of confusion and slowly dawning horror, an expression the bastard revels in. His toothy grin widens, and with a flick of his wrist, he produces a card out of thin air to idly spin and flip between his fingers.

"It's been really nice spending time with you here, you know? But unfortunately, duty calls, and I can't always spare the time to come visit." Scar sighs dramatically with an exaggerated frown, resting both arms on the back of your couch. "It's such a shame. I'm sure you miss me, don't you?"

You uneasily turn back to the dishes, putting another on the drying rack and picking up a new one. "Not really. Don't you have any friends to talk to?"

"And there's the other point!" You refuse to look at him, but you can hear his footsteps as he leisurely saunters to the kitchen. You try to focus on scrubbing off a particularly stubborn patch of grease on your pan. "You can be so hard to deal with sometimes! It makes me wonder if all the effort I go through to keep you happy is worth it."

You furrow your brows, a frown tugging at your lips. The moment you move to speak, a red-tipped finger comes from behind to press against your lips in a shushing motion. "Now, now, dear. No need to tell me it isn't true." His face leans into view from over your shoulder with a smile. "Besides, I'm sure you'll be just as excited for this as I am."

"Excited for wh-"

Scar cuts you off without words, making the world spin as he turns you around to face him. Your pan falls with a clatter, and suddenly you're faced away from the window above the sink and looking up into his face, split by an ear-to-ear grin. His pupils are blown wide with excitement, lit up by a manic glint in his usually dull irises.

"You're coming with me. You have three days to write out your will and say goodbye to the people you care about," he spoke, his voice rough at the edges and trembling with suppressed amusement. His hands rest on the edge of the counter on each side of you, caging you in. "Try to run away or tell anyone, and I'll kill them all. Obey, and they can live."

Scar leans in so close that his nose brushes yours, with a stare so intense you would have thought his eyes were glowing. "We have a lot of things we can do with their bodies. Would you like to see what a Tacet Discord born of human flesh looks like?"

You can't tear your eyes away from his intense, bright stare for even a second. With slow, trembling movements, you shake your head.

"Now that's what I wanted to see." Scar leans in, pressing a kiss to your lips, only pulling away after a long moment. "Not so hard, was it? I'm sure you'll be alright, there's no need to be scared!" He brightens up in a flash, any trace of his previous threats gone. He licks his lips as he turns away from you.

"All that being said, I'm sure something similar will happen to your family in the true Lament, so it doesn't matter. But if it makes you happy, I don't mind leaving them be in the meantime." Scar looks up at nothing in particular, summoning another card to toy with idly. His spare hand rests behind his back.

"Isn't it boring how the world is stagnating?" Scar starts up again. "Chaos, as orchestrated by the great Threnodians, can create a form of equality impossible to achieve with our current status quo..." His voice turns fuzzy in your mind as you tune his droning out. Three days? Where is he taking you? What about your life?

You take a shaky breath, bringing a hand up to tug at your hair. Wasn't there anything you could do? All his talk of controlling one's own destiny flashes in your mind, mocking you. Would you ever see your family again?

You only realize that Scar has noticed your breakdown when he places a hand on your shoulder and pulls you close. "Aww, don't cry," he murmurs, wiping away tears you didn't even realize were falling with a thumb. "It's not so bad, I promise." His lips stretch into a facsimile of a comforting smile, and he strokes your hair in an attempt at comfort. He pulls your face into his shoulder, periodically shushing you.

You stay like that for a few minutes, and when he deems you suitably stable, he moves to lean on you with one arm on your shoulder, the other outstretched before the both of you in a grand gesture. "Don't worry, just imagine it. Wouldn't it be lovely, being safe and sound by my side in my new world?"

"Not at all. Are you sure you don't hate me?" You mumble, your voice rough and tired.

He rolls his eyes. "Darling, I could never. Oh well, I'm sure you'll come around." Scar shrugs it off. Suddenly, he snaps his fingers, and his eyes flash, as though he had remembered something important. "Oh, by the way, the rest of today is the first of the three days. Would you like to get a head start?"

Fuck.

One day, Scar returns from one of his excursions with a plan in mind. Without a word, he sits you down in the makeshift infirmary of his Fractsidus hideout of choice for the week. For once, he refuses to answer any of your questions, instead opting to gather a few medical supplies from around the room. When he's satisfied with the collection—bandages, ointment, and a bottle of painkillers—he sets them down on the table next to you.

"Did you get hurt out there or something?" You cross your arms and lean back in the uncomfortable metal chair. "Don't expect me to bandage you up." If that growing smile is anything to go by, he knows you're just trying to cover up your sense of unease, but he doesn't call you out on it.

"You wound me. But to answer your question, not quite."

The hair on the back of your neck stands on end. What could he have planned?

Scar isn't going to let you theorize for too long, it seems. He kneels in front of you, one of his signature ram skull cards held flat against the palm of his hand. He ignores you as you flinch away, tensing up, eyes darting between him and his hand.

"What are you doing?" you hiss. Scar chuckles in lieu of a response. His hand drifts up to the side of your throat, pressing his palm—and the smooth side of the card within it—firmly to the skin of your throat. As if reading your mind, his opposite hand lands on your opposite shoulder, keeping you in place before you can try anything.

With a wink, a sharp-toothed grin, and a faint flash of red from beneath his hand, he sears the card's image into your skin with a flash of white-hot pain. The rest is a blur. All you can remember are your cries as he presses your face into his shoulder, stroking your hair as he shushes you.

Now you sit on the couch, with a cup of (instant, but still) hot chocolate in hand and soft bandages around your throat. Scar crosses one leg over the other and slings an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in close.

"Why?" you ask simply, with not even enough energy left to look at him.

He hums in mock thought, making a show out of considering his words. "Well, there's really not much to it," he shrugs with one of his characteristic smiles. "I was just thinking of something more... permanent, today."

#wuthering waves #yandere wuthering waves #yandere scar #yandere scar wuwa #yandere scar x reader #yandere scar wuthering waves #scar x reader #bro theres so many scars out there what all do i tag this #yandere scar x reader wuthering waves

[faetreides]

- # 🍁 THE NEMEAN LION !!

feels so ugly when i’m honest

cw: afab reader, ambiguous era, dubcon coded, insp. by this ask, patrick and reader have noncon somno fantasies about the other (so rlly it’s more cnc), patrick is gross and mean, situationship/roommate!patrick, unprotected p in v sex & relying on the pull out method, weed mention and wine mention, art guest star appearance (patrick mentions him), oral (afab reader receiving), hints of: foot fetish, dacryphilia, cnc in general, plus sized!reader, mythological themes, 3k words of me losing my marbles, one use of daddy, we don’t gotta be in love you knowweeeeee i don’t gotta be the oneeee you knowweeeeeeeeew

You’re making him crazy, Patrick knows it. He shouldn’t spend his mornings humping his pillows that you hold in your lap during movie nights. He definitely shouldn’t be stealing your panties and strangling his cock with the lacey fabric that’s going to end up smelling so foul from how much he’ll use the same pair over and over. He thinks he can catch your scent on his clothes when you’ve never actually been close enough to leave a reminder of you behind. Sometimes Patrick gets so frustrated with continuing at this same snail’s pace that he wishes he could just grab your face and smush it into his musky crotch. He’d let you go if you were about to pass out, maybe. You can’t get shit twisted if you’re unconscious.

He’s telling you another one of his stories, hoping to see a twinge of… something swirling in your irises. You just hum too much and squirm a bit, ever the overactive listener. Patrick would cut off his balls if it meant that he could hear anything resembling a moan from you, not just little signs that you’re listening and not speaking. The transformer movie’s reached a point where you don’t really have to pay attention, so you cutely shuffle your mess of blankets around on the couch so you can give Patrick your undivided attention. He’s had to start keeping space in his closet for the large throw blankets you bring along even though you refuse to let him turn the fan off.

“Yeah, I was with Art actually. We ate each other out back in the day, y’know, to see what it was like. He sat on my face and fuckin’ almost broke my neck, his thighs were gripping me so tight.” He coyly tilts his head to the side, pretending to be shy about the whole thing.

He narrows his eyes and analyzes your reaction. You dart your gaze around the room for a split second, struggling to tamper down the blossoming warmth in your stomach and the insecurity that comes with never being able to catch up with Patrick. You’ve confessed to it a couple times, usually after a couple of bottles of whatever cheap alchohol he’s got on hand. His nails shred into his palms with the effort it takes not to give you something to talk about, even if you think they’re only dreams.

“When was the first time someone ate you out? I can’t be the only one shoving my foot in my mouth here.”

God, what he’d give to have your feet in his mouth, and vice versa.

You play with the fluffy black blanket in your lap, making eye contact with one of the cartoon nutcrackers on it and not Patrick as you answer his question. “Oh… I’ve actually never been eaten out, maybe that’s why no one’s made me cum.”

It’s a like his world has been hit by an unexpected asteroid and blown to smithereens, bits of membrane and curdled dna scattered across the milky way. The gross-ness imbued in his bone marrow leaks out into vaccum of space as he processes this truly fucking suprising piece of information. Never in his life has Patrick been told something that just can’t be true, not when there are still good things in the world. Not when that helpful little tidbit will split him open and take over his every waking and sleeping thought.

He shakes his head, blinking rapidly. “What? What the hell do you mean no one’s ever eaten your pussy?”

“I, I don’t know. The people I've been with have just never gone out of their way to do it and I didn't make a big deal out of it.”

His heart’s breaking in half and you clearly have no idea. Patrick scrambles to sit up and grabs your hands to stop them from fiddling with the blanket anymore. There are a thousand things he wants and needs and just has to say but all he can do in the present moment is keep shaking his head and crowding you against the right arm of his tattered gray couch.

“Then they’re so fucking stupid, I can’t believe you don’t know what it feels like to have a tongue up your cunt.” He states, a firm declaration that has you throwing out a hand on his bicep to ground yourself.

Patrick looks crazed above you, dark hair impossibly soft and pupils steadily expanding outward. You slide your hand up his arm (trying to ignore the muscle there, what it’d be like when they flex as he picks you up by your ass) to place it on his firm chest. You open your mouth, trying to cobble together any kind of response you can think of but your mind is blank. Patrick seizes the opportunity and smahes his mouth against yours, when the clashing of your lips is over there’s more blood than spit. He flicks his tongue out to catch the little drops of blood dripping from your lips, moaning after he swallows each one.

You’re catching your breath, “You… you can’t… just do that.”

He rolls his eyes and grins, “I did. I can hear you through the walls at night you know? Rubbing your pussy on one of my pillows that you think I don't know you stole, crying for me.”

Damn, that’s what you get for making risky decisions while you’re ovulating. You knew you washed it and should’ve snuck in while he was out to throw it on his plaid comforter and act like it never happened. The longer you kept it stuffed between your plush thighs, smothering it in the natural scent of your pussy, the more your shyness grew. It was easier to spend your nights like that then explore the possibility of doing something else with your time, but now you’re just wishing that you hopped on Patrick’s stupidly huge dick while he was passed out and snoring and called it a day.

“I… I’m sorry, okay? You can have it back.” You say and keep the grumpiness out of your tone, having to come to terms with hoarding nothing that smells like him anymore.

“Just shut up and be happy, be good for me.” He punctuates it with a mean squeeze to your face, slowly sliding his hand down to hang around your throat and falling to his knees in front of the couch.

Maybe it’s the cheap white wine, maybe it’s the subpar edible you had earlier, but you throw caution to the wind and sink your fingers into Patrick’s hair. Your breath happily flies out of your lungs when he pushes your knees apart, coaxing your white lace panties off with his teeth. The bright lights from the TV cast a glow around him, and you hate how pretty he looks. Like if Hercules was a modern porn star, muscles rippling and eyes spearing through you as he catapults you to the stars.

The roughness of his fingers feels heavenly as he smooths them down your inner thighs, “Nice and fat pussy, dripping all over the place. Saying hi, right? It’d be rude of me to not say anything back.”

So he does, spitting right on your clit and spreading it all over your pussy. Patrick shuffles closer and takes several big lungfuls, humping the air with every whiff of your artificial body wash combined with your much more attractive musk. He opens his mouth wide and latches onto your soaking folds, flattening his tongue and licking broad stripes up your cunt. He laps up your juices sloppily, almost wagging his tongue wildly in an effort to suck up whatever he can.

There’s a coil forming in the pit of your stomach, winding tighter and tighter with every swipe of Patrick’s wet tongue. Your face flames in embarrassment once again, you don’t really know if you look bad from his point of view but you can’t stop yourself from throwing your head back against the couch and scrunching your face up. He gives your asshole an open mouthed kiss, half to tease you even further and half because he just couldn’t resist. It was glistening and winking at him and everything.

“Fuck! Fuck! That’s so- how are you so good at this?” You mewl, raking through his hair thoroughly like you’re searching for something you lost.

Patrick’s ego grows in size and he smiles as he moves to your clit, hollowing his cheeks and suckling rapidly. He buries his face in your pussy and drinks you down in several gulps, picking up speed when you resign yourself to telltale moans about much you need to cum. He flicks the tip of his tongue against your swollen clit and slows down right when you’re apart to fall over the edge. He actually chuckles into your mound and winks when you glare at him. He cuts off whatever bratty retort you armed yourself with by going back to nearly inhaling your clit without warning.

“Ungh- I really-really fucking hate you, but don’t you dare stop, I’ll kill you.”

Each suck sends pulses shooting up your core, and that scary coil in the depth of your guts tightens blissfully. You squirm, the very definition of a hot mess as you grind against his face. The friction was never enough but you keep corralling his nose into your pubic hair, fruitlessly rutting your hips with no end goal other than the urge to hump whatever’s available. You panic for a second that you’ll suffocate him or he’ll be grossed out by you not shaving, but you shouldn’t underestimate him. If anything, Patrick groans at the heady smell. Getting it straight from the source and fucking the air during his suckling.

His eyes never stray from you. Your agonized face straight out of a renaissance painting, too strung out and burning with pleasure to resemble anything normal. Your thick thighs, jiggling with every move you make, you can’t seem to decide between humping his mouth like a bitch in heat or trying to squeeze his head like a watermelon. Your sounds, wails and cries and moans and whines, he’ll have to record you next time, play it anytime and anywhere in case you misunderstand what this is. The first documentation of how much cum and fluid you can paint him in, whatever color or thickness you’ve got for him. He’ll wring it all out of you eventually, film a home movie series to chronicle every squirting session and the like.

Gun to his head, you taste like those old fashioned butterscotch hard candies. Decadent and sweet, if he could he’d sink his teeth into the slippery supple flesh and pull and rip.

After several rounds of cruel edging, your brain whites out so hard, you can almost form the blurry shapes in your peripheral vision into a red spiked tail and horned wings. Patrick’s ruining you entirely, you know that now, and the movie’s already over but you don’t spare the scrawling credits more than a weary glance. Your soul is probably cartoonishly swimming through the putrid air towards your body, but your sweaty body is shaking too much to receive it. There’s a ringing in your ears as you blink yourself into awareness, Patrick unbuckles his jeans and a blunt pressure stretches your hole out.

“Sorry, ‘m out of condoms, I’ll pull out, baby.” He huffs out, praying to whatever’s listening that he doesn’t just start pummeling your shit.

You feel your stomach bunching up before you see Patrick’s dick disappearing into you. The feeling of being split open on something so thick has you reeling, no one else you’ve been with has left you spiraling quite like this. In a room full of dicks you’d be able to spot his, you’d just have to find the one that has the back of your throat tingling and going dry just from a sniff and a look. You’d cry if he pulled out now, it’s already too late for you. This is such a stupid decision, sloppy rough sex with your roomate-turned-situationship on his worn out couch that’s older than the both of you combined.

It’s one hell of a story, and maybe some moments in life should be allowed to boil down to that. The hand loosely wrapped around your throat tightens its hold, you welcome the thumb pushing into your mouth without prompting. The depravity of it all makes you feel owned, has you seriously considering living your life as some guy’s exclusive pet whore. The ‘squelch’s and the ‘schlick’s that come with his savage thrusts and milk white strings connecting the base of his cock to your puffy pussy.

Every breath you think you’re going to be able to take, he steals from you and mocks your whimpery “unh-unh-unh~”’s in his raspy mid-fuck voice.

“This is the only dick you’ll be hanging off of from now on, got it? Can’t let some lousy jackass try to sew his balls to this pussy when it’s not even gonna cream around him.” You say yes to that hissed demand, yes of course, Daddy.

Patrick plunges his cock to the hilt into your cunt in one sharp stroke, gasping and gripping your hip to distract himself from the way your walls are clenching around his length. Every part of you is greedy apparently, you’re perfect for each other then. The position he has you in is so filthy, he’s standing and hosting your legs up over his shoulders, folding you in half on the couch. His dirty levi’s pool around his feet and the sound of his belt hitting the floor inspires awful thoughts in you. Your sweat mixes together and trickles down your legs, sticking to his leg hair.

You can have it soft once he’s gotten this demon off his back and out of his system, you can ride him while you’re cozied up in bed, lazily rolling your hips until you get tired a couple minutes later and clinging to the caresses on your love handles. Patrick has to destroy something before he can even stand to think about putting it back together, your insides and you yourself are no exception. Your walls feel like the finest quality silk around his throbbing cock, leaking inside of you as he clutches onto your ankles. The TV’s automatically shut off by now, and the lack of background noise enhances his animalistic grunts and deep moans.

“Gonna fuck your tits next time, fuck-what the fuck-you’re too damn tight, massage them for you after, rub your cunt raw-“

Patrick fucks like he’s staking claim on a spoil of war, you’re learning, as if the pale ferryman’s hot on his heels and this sliver of time is the only sacred thing he’ll ever get in his wretched mortal life. All his, gone limp between bloody jaws and killing hands. He snarls in your face as he pounds your pussy, angling his hips to stab deeper in you than should be medically possible. You don’t when you start tearing up, but Patrick does nothing to wipe away your tears, not even lick them up. He just fucks you to the point where you’re crying, shutting his eyes as he throws his head back so you can’t see that he’s crying too. The both of you borrow from different sources of emotion.

“You sounded so scared when you were cumming, made my balls twitch, was cute.” Patrick tells you in between messy kisses, more focused on almost eating your face than properly locking lips with you.

His tongue hangs out of his mouth as he abruptly yanks himself out of you and lavishes your belly in ropes after ropes of cum. You’d reach down to dip a finger in and taste it, but you’re too annoyed at the thought that he’s depriving you of an orgasm again. You haven’t even decided whether you’re going to pout or flatbout get up and leave when Patrick’s sliding home once more. You give him a punched out gasp, sort of pained and kind of relieved, in response. He hisses through his teeth, grinding them together like it’s burning the flesh on his cock to plunge back into your searing pussy. Actively breaking and remaking you. Both of your muscles tense up as the wave threatens to crash over you.

“You can cry some more, if you want, I'd like that a lot. Beg me to save you from what I’m doing to you, to this tight pussy.”

Happy or sad, doesn’t matter. He knows you like it when he keeps you from fighting back, you suit being manhandled and made to take dick better than anyone else he’s slummed it with.

He hunches his back forward to kiss you again, and you claw red stripes down it as your tongue maps out every inch of his mouth. He pulls back and you spend several seconds like that sharing breath. You don’t realize what you’re saying out loud, things like ‘Holy shit you’re so fucking big-so good-it’s so fucking good’ and ‘Feels better than i thought it would, how is that even possible?’ It’s like your own little sex obsessed podcast, centering every episode around how situationship dick is on another level and will irrevocably destroy you. Patrick chuckles, he can’t wait to hold every treasured compliment from you over your head. You could say you’re done with whatever this is when he leaves the toilet seat up again but he’ll never forget you howling for him and his cock to never leave you.

Patrick will swing himself over the net into overstimulation before the next time your pussy’s clamping down on his thick cock and spasming, but he’ll be damned if you’re not gonna end up passed out and drooling while the sun rises. You can spend future movie nights cockwarming him, if you can stand to endure the sickeningly perfect stretch without being allowed to get your cunt beat. You’re mewling when you froth the base of his dick again, your walls pulse around him like you’re a cat laving up your favorite cream. Tonight’s not the night where you’ll be getting it straight from the source, maybe when you’re willing to take certain risks. His smiles are the most genuine when you drag out your whine to follow the speed in which he pulls out to paint your body. Tangy ribbons hanging over your love handles and dripping down to your ass cheeks.

#patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader #challengers x reader #challengers #challengers fanfiction #challengers smut #challengers movie #challengers film #challengers fic #challengers x you #challengers imagine #patrick zweig x you #patrick zweig smut #patrick zweig imagine #josh o’connor challengers #josh o’connor #josh o’connor x reader #patrick zweig challengers #josh o connor x you #josh o connor x reader #josh o connor #josh o’connor smut #⚰️.deaddove #ish #challengers 2024

[steves-sub]

Time for Action

Dark!Team Cap (Steve, Bucky, Sam, Natasha, Wanda) x innocent!female reader

Summary: The team's plan is finally going into action.

warning: Non-con drugging, hypnosis, deceiving people

A/N: I couldn't leave you hanging, so I'm back to finish the series. A lot has changed for me since I started this journey. I'm in a much better place now – happier, healthier, and pursuing my passion for special education. I also found love, which has greatly impacted my life. I may not be writing again anytime soon, but I'll always be grateful for the support of this community. These stories kept me going when things were tough, and I hope they bring you as much joy as you've brought me.

tags: @rihannabale @sideeve @apollosouls-blog @luvfromdixiedoll @chemtrails-club

The long-awaited day had finally come. After carefully applying your makeup and smoothing out your dress, you couldn't contain your excitement about spending time with Steve and his friends. To mark the occasion, you even wore a new dress - a lovely white sundress adorned with sunflowers, a charming nod to Steve's nickname.

As I heard a "ding" from my cell phone, I walked over to check it. To my surprise, it was a message from Steve saying, "Be there in 5 minutes." Despite my insistence on biking, Steve was determined to drive me. "You are a princess; you should be treated like one," he said with a smile. This level of care and consideration from a friend was something I had never experienced before.

As the sound of the car pulling up reached your ears, you gracefully descended the stairs, your luscious curls bouncing with each step. The scent of Steve's potent cologne wafted through the air as you closed the door behind you. Glancing back, you caught sight of him emerging from his car, clad in a crisp white button-down and navy pants. It seemed impossible, but your attraction to him intensified in that moment. As Steve made his way towards you, you could have sworn you heard a low growl escape him. "Wow, y/n, you truly are a sunflower. You look absolutely stunning, my darling," his words caused a rush of warmth to flood your cheeks."

“Thank you, Steve! I chose this dress specifically for this occasion. I hoped to leave a lasting impression on your friends." Steve enveloped you in a warm embrace, and as he did, you thought you felt his hand subtly moving towards your lower back, but before you could dwell on it, he gently pulled away. "Don't worry too much; I'm sure they will adore you, just like I do," he assured you with a playful touch on your nose, causing you to let out a spontaneous giggle. Steve gracefully circled around you and gallantly opened the door of his sleek black car, a vehicle worth more than your annual salary. "Step in, my princess. Your carriage awaits," he declared as he entered the vehicle himself and closed the door behind you.

As he settled into the driver's seat, he reached behind him and retrieved a water bottle. "The drive might take a while, so I brought you a water bottle," he said with a warm smile. You accepted the bottle, returning his smile, and twisted off the cap. The water had an unusual taste, but you didn't want to cause any inconvenience. Keeping your thoughts to yourself, you continued on your journey.

After half an hour of casual conversation with Steve, he steered onto a narrow dirt road. "It's just a short drive down this road, and then we'll be there," he reassured, gently taking your hand. "Don't worry, sunflower. I promise they will adore you," he repeated for what seemed like the hundredth time. Throughout the journey, Steve did his best to ease your nerves, chatting with you and offering you sips of that peculiar water. While you did start to feel more at ease, the anticipation still made you jittery. Finally, he pulled up to an exquisite house. "Wow," you marveled as you gazed out the window, "you guys live here?" You had little knowledge about Steve and never would have guessed that he was well-off. "Yeah," he chuckled, "my friends and I have been renovating this house for a while. It's our retirement plan." 

I turned to look at Steve, my face twisted in confusion. "Retirement plan? You're not even 40!" Steve chuckled once again at my comment. "Well, we all needed a break, so we decided to come up here for a bit," he spoke as he expertly parked the car in the circle driveway. "Are you ready?" he asked, extending his hand towards me. I took his hand in mine and squeezed it, replying, "Ready." He smiled back at me as he exited the car to open the door for me.

As the two of you approached the door, Steve reached out and turned the handle, allowing the door to swing open. "Hey guys, we're here!" he called out, his voice echoing through the seemingly empty house. Suddenly, the distinct sound of clicking heels filled the air, and a young redhead in a vibrant red coat appeared before you. "Oh my gosh, you're here!" she exclaimed, enveloping you in a warm, enthusiastic hug. "Steve has not stopped talking about you. You’re Y/n, right? I'm Wanda," she said with a smile. "It's so nice to meet you too! I wish I could say the same about you," you teased, playfully nudging Steve's arm. "Oh, that's just Steve. He's a pretty reserved person. Come in, come in, everyone’s in the kitchen," Wanda said, taking the lead as she ushered you inside. Following her lead, you kicked off your sandals and made your way into the inviting warmth of the kitchen. "See, not so bad," Steve remarked quietly. "Yeah, Wanda seems super nice," you agreed. "And we're only just getting started," Steve added, gently holding your hand as you both stepped into the bustling kitchen. 

The two of us walked into the kitchen and spotted the rest of the group. A striking redhead in a sleek black dress perched on the counter, enjoying a glass of wine. A confident black man was busy setting up the table, while another man with a metallic arm was hard at work in the kitchen. Wanda caught their attention and introduced me with a warm smile, prompting the others to follow suit. The redhead, Natasha, strolled over to me and greeted me affectionately. "I'm Natasha. Your dress is stunning; I can see why Steve calls you sunflower," she remarked with a smirk, casting a glance at Steve as she embraced me. "Thank you, yours is gorgeous as well," I replied.

The man who was setting the table made his way over to us. "So, this is the famous Y/N Steve can't stop talking about? I can see why," he said with a warm smile as he confidently walked over. "Sam Wilson, nice to meet you," he said as he extended his hand. I couldn't help but giggle as I looked at his hand. "Thank you; you are all super kind to me," I replied with a smile. "Well, Steve said you were a special friend, so you deserve to feel special," the last man said as he extended his hand for a handshake. "Bucky Barnes, we are so happy you are here," he said warmly. I couldn't help but feel grateful for the kindness of these people and how lucky Steve must be to have such thoughtful friends. "Told you they would love you, sunflower," Steve said as he brought me in for a side hug.

As I made my way towards the counter where Natasha was, Bucky informed me that dinner would be ready in a few minutes. He listed the menu as salad, pasta, chicken, brussels sprouts, and homemade mini cakes courtesy of Wanda. Natasha then offered me a glass of wine. I accepted and requested a Pinot Grigio, and as she went to the fridge, she discreetly took a small vial of clear liquid from the refrigerator before leaving the kitchen with Steve following her.

Once they reached the wine cellar, Natasha's eyes sparkled with excitement as she deftly grabbed the bottle she sought. "Everything ready?" Steve inquired, wrapping his arms around her waist. Their relationship had evolved into one of friends with benefits since they had been on the run, but now they no longer needed to rely on such arrangements. "As long as she drank the water you gave her, then we will be set," Natasha confirmed, setting the wine glass on the counter and retrieving the vial. "She doesn't feel anything right now; she's just relaxed. This, however, will make her more open to our suggestions and make her easier to seduce. We will have her in our hands in no time." Natasha finished pouring the wine and closed the bottle with a sense of determination. "I wanted to have her right then and there when I saw her in that sundress. She has no idea what she is doing to me," Steve confessed. "Soon, Steve, soon," Natasha called out to Steve as she returned to the party, him following closely behind.

Natasha and Steve glided into the room, Natasha holding a delicate glass of wine. "Here you go, angel," Natasha said as she gracefully handed the glass to the recipient. "Perfect timing, the food is ready," Bucky exclaimed. "Do you need help with anything?" you kindly asked the cooks. "Nonsense, you are our guest. Go have a seat; we will be over shortly," Wanda said as she expertly opened the oven. The rest of the group approached the table, which Sam meticulously set. You found yourself seated between Steve and Natasha, with Sam, Bucky, and Wanda on the other side.

Steve rose from his chair with a beer in hand as the delicious food was placed on the table, and everyone took their seats. "I would like to propose a toast to Y/N," he announced, causing a flutter in your stomach as everyone smiled at you. "Thank you for gracing us with your presence tonight. I feel that this evening will be etched in our memories forever. Cheers!" he exclaimed, raising his glass as everyone followed suit. It was clear that tonight was going to be truly extraordinary.  

After an hour had passed, not a morsel of food remained, and the plates sparkled clean. It had been quite some time since you felt so carefree and relaxed, and the feeling was beautiful. As Wanda and Bucky shared a hilarious story, you found yourself laughing along with them while the others tidied up after dinner. Natasha approached you with another glass of wine, but you declined, explaining to her with a tinge of sadness that you and Steve would have to leave soon. The evening had been so enjoyable that you wished it wouldn't end. "Don't worry, sweetie. You're more than welcome to spend the night if you'd like," Steve called out from the kitchen. "But I don't have anything with me for an overnight stay," you quickly pointed out.

"We have a spare bedroom, and you can borrow some sweats. Seriously, don't sweat about it," Wanda said with a warm smile. "Are you sure about that?" you questioned Wanda, feeling grateful for her hospitality. "We are positive," Natasha responded reassuringly as she once again handed the glass to you, her eyes reflecting genuine concern. "Okay, okay. But this is the last glass; I'm starting to feel the effects of drinking," you commented, letting out a light-hearted laugh. Unbeknownst to you, the group exchanged knowing glances, anticipation for their plan evident in their eyes. 

As Steve suggested heading to the living room to wrap up the evening, he approached you and gently massaged your shoulders. You yawned, feeling the wine's effects, and quickly apologized for your drowsiness. "Sorry, I just got sleepy. This wine might be stronger than I thought," you chuckled. As you stood up and headed to the living room, you noticed your vision becoming blurry, causing you to lose your balance.

"Are you feeling okay, honey?" Bucky asked, his concerned gaze fixed on you. "I just feel a bit dizzy. Do you mind if I go to bed early?" you inquired, steadying yourself against the back of the couch. "Why don't you lie down next to me? It might help," suggested Steve as he came over to you. You hoped that his suggestion would bring some relief as Steve gently guided you to the plush couch. He positioned you in the center, and everyone respectfully kept their distance, allowing you some space.

You heard a gentle buzzing sound beginning and looked around to locate its source. "What's that noise?" you asked as you attempted to sit up, but the throbbing in your head persisted. "Oh, it's just some soft music. It's meant to help you relax," Wanda reassured you as you felt Steve gently guide your head back onto his shoulder where it had been resting. In front of you, the TV displayed a captivating screen saver. It consisted of black and white squares merging into each other. Strangely, it was pretty soothing and difficult to look away from.

As you commented on the intriguing screen, you noticed your speech slowing down unintentionally. In response, Sam softly remarked, "Yeah, I know. It came with the TV. We tried to change it but couldn't figure it out." Unbeknownst to you, Wanda had silently approached from behind. Her hand emitted a crimson magical energy that flowed into your head, inducing a sudden and profound relaxation.

"It's not too bad; it can be quite relaxing to look at. Don't you think it's relaxing?" Wanda asked, her words echoing in your mind whenever she mentioned "relaxing." "Relaxing?" you mumbled sleepily. "Yes, darling, relaxing," Steve whispered into your ear as he gently brushed some hair away from your face, ensuring your gaze remained fixed on the screen before you. Despite your efforts to look away, it was difficult to resist.

As your eyelids grew heavier, it became increasingly difficult to keep them open. "Are you getting sleepy over there, my lovely sunflower?" Steve softly chuckled. You attempted to shake your head, but the effort was futile. "It's okay to relax and sleep, darling. Just close your eyes and let go," Bucky's voice whispered. "I don't want to," you replied in the faintest of whispers.

Natasha's soothing voice filled the room as she said, "Why not? It's okay to relax and sleep. To close those heavy eyes and sleep." Her gentle hand massaged my shoulders, lulling me into an even deeper state of relaxation. "Sleep?" I questioned. Steve let out a chuckle and reassured me, "That's right, honey, just sleep for me. I'll keep you safe. Just close those heavy, heavy eyes and sleep for me." Each word from Steve felt like a gentle command, and I found myself unable to resist as I followed his instructions, succumbing to the irresistible urge to close my heavy eyelids.

#bucky barnes smut #steve rogers smut #natasha romanoff smut #wanda maximoff smut #sam wilson smut #bucky barnes x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #sam wilson x reader #dark!wanda maximoff #dark!bucky barnes #dark!steve rogers #dark!sam wilson #dark!natasha romanoff #dark!steve x reader #dark!bucky x reader #dark!natasha romanoff x reader #dark!wanda x reader #dark!sam wilson smut #steve rogers x reader #natasha romanoff x reader

[yazmarina]

one slip (and falling back into the hedge maze)

alex albon x fem!reader

you and your best friend aren't sleeping together...right?

warnings/notes: smut, fwb setup, unprotected sex (wrap it up, friends), breeding, mild power play

a/n: there's this photo of alex making pancakes (see: fic header) and my friend and i went nuts talking about alex as your fuck buddy who takes care of you...

.

"Serious question, and don't laugh, but are you and Alex sleeping together?"

Having been in the middle of drinking, you feel the water catch in your throat despite it being, well, literally water. You cough and splutter, striking your chest with your palm to clear the liquid from your windpipe. Meanwhile, Logan laughs, slamming his hand down on the table as he watches you struggle as if all of this was oh-so-hilarious.

"What the fuck, Logan?" you demand, eyeing Logan the same way you would if he spontaneously grew another head right at this moment.

"Hey, don't blame me! George was the one that put it in my head," Logan deflects, raising his hands up as if to surrender.

"George?!" comes your incredulous reply. "Why the fuck is George speculating about me and Alex?"

Logan gives you an equally exasperated look. "He's Alex's best friend, duh. We were in the media pen together and we got talking. He said that you and Alex were being weird around each other and, in his words, not in an avoidance kind of way but in a 'they-refuse-to-be-more-than-five-feet-away-from-each-other' kind of way. It's throwing George off-kilter, or so he says."

You pause, unable to provide enough words in order to deny the accusation. Not that it wasn't true. Not when you were in Alex's room last night, his hand over your mouth while he railed you against the bathroom sink.

Logan raises his eyebrows expectantly at you.

"So? Are you sleeping together or not?"

Your throat runs dry and you fight the urge to cough again, because that's totally not suspicious at all. You muster up all the nonchalance in your body, shrugging and shaking your head as if everything you've talked about in the past five minutes was all a big misunderstanding.

"I don't know where you got that idea, Loges," you brush off.

"The two of you sit in each other's lap," Logan supplies.

"We used to do that when we were younger" you reply.

"I caught him with his hand in your back pocket the other day."

"It's a joke we have."

"Even the kisses on the cheek? The ones that might as well be on your mouth?"

You narrow your eyes at Logan. You feel your heart thundering and you're not sure if you're showing any other signs of lying. You've always been a bad liar. Your face could be a deep shade of red or you could be sweating through your shirt right now. You definitely feel every hair on your body stand on end with how nervous you are.

"Just because you don't have a friendship like ours doesn't mean you get to judge it, Sargeant," you say with a roll of your eye.

Oh, you are so fucked.

-

"George asked me the weirdest thing today."

Your head snaps up as you hear Alex exit the bathroom, hair damp and a towel wrapped around his waist. It's just after qualifying and Alex had trudged up to his room, crestfallen as was the norm for him in the last couple of races, with him being stuck in perpetual Q2. He'd given you a keycard to his room at the beginning of the weekend, telling you to come and go as you please, and you very much were pleased to wait for him after today's disappointing session.

Nothing a little blowie and a hot shower couldn't fix.

"Did he ask about me and you?" You question, stretching slowly on the bed, burrowing further beneath the sheets. Alex meets your eyes, his forehead creased.

"How'd you know?"

You shrug. "Logan asked me the same thing today."

"And? What did you tell him?" Alex presses further, grabbing a pair of his underwear from the haphazardly packed suitcase on the floor.

"Nothing. I told him he was crazy for thinking that," you say, watching as Alex drops the towel, his ass in full view.

"Is he really, though?" Alex asks, turning back to you with a smirk.

Something about the way the warm hotel lights hit his face and the way his neck is still wet from the shower makes you want to crawl right up to him and ask if you could have a repeat of last night.

"Oh yeah," you respond sarcastically, throwing the covers off of you. Alex found you in your (his) oversized hoodie when he came back from the track earlier, but you've discarded it now to reveal the skimpy pajama set you had on underneath.

"We're totally not fucking on the low like a pair of rabbits," you add, grinning as you see Alex chuck his underwear back onto the pile. He crosses the room in two strides, climbing onto the bed and effortlessly positioning himself over you.

"I hate you," Alex says, but any actual reprimand is undetected as he smiles even wider down at you. "I just showered, babe."

"Guess you'll have to keep the mess in if you know what I mean," you reply coyly, sliding your hands down Alex's torso, down his chiseled abdomen, and further to where his cock stands half hard.

You take it into your hand and start stroking, Alex drawing in a breath as he feels you squeeze along the base.

"Fuck, you mean...?" Alex asks, his own fingers creeping up beneath your pajama top.

You nod. "Fill me up, Alex. Please?"

It's the 'please' that does it for him, a low grunt escaping Alex as he attacks your lips with such ferocity the wind is practically knocked out of you.

Alex wastes no time as he yanks your shorts down your thighs, underwear already sticky due to the anticipation. You shimmy and manage to get it down to your ankles, kicking your shorts and panties off unceremoniously.

"Get naked for me, baby," Alex whispers before kissing along the side of your neck, his rough hands hiking your top up over your bare breasts. You whimper, legs hooking around Alex's hips.

You manage to get the thin camisole off, throwing it in the relative area where you think your bottoms may be. Alex automatically latches onto one of your nipples, tongue circling the rapidly hardening nub. You gasp as you feel the faintest hint of teeth graze against it.

You have no time to process much of it, though, because you feel two fingers press against your cunt, searching but quickly locating your clit before rubbing tiny circles all over it.

"You're such a good friend..." Alex teases, chuckling when he sees your eyes roll back into your head, his finger having just slipped inside you.

"...getting wet for me like this and all."

Alex adds another digit in and drags them along on your inside walls, curling and uncurling in intervals, just how you like it. You cry out when he immediately picks up the pace, giving you no time to simmer in the sensation for too long.

"F-Fuck, Alex," you whine, hips rutting in time with the movements of his hand.

"We'll get there, sweetheart," Alex reassures with a laugh and you reach up to smack him in the arm.

"You're such an idiot," you manage in between gasps of pleasure. "Just fuck me already."

Alex withdraws his fingers and you spread your legs even wider, assuming that he would heed your demand, but Alex just slides further down the bed, leveling his face with your drenched cunt.

"I said we'll get there, _______," Alex repeats, much more serious now, his eyes peeking up as he presses his mouth against your folds.

You practically quiver at the use of your name, Alex holding your gaze as he wraps his lips around your clit. Your mouth flies open and you slap a hand over the lower half of your face, afraid that any sound that comes out now will surpass the thick hotel walls.

Alex draws slow circles over the sensitive nub with his tongue, sucking and licking here and there. It takes everything in you not to thrash around with how good Alex is eating you out. Your thighs practically lock around his head and he only groans, large hands gripping them even tighter in place.

You feel the familiar knot building up, your hips rocking against Alex's face. You're getting close despite Alex just getting into it. The way he plays your body like an instrument, wills it to bend to his commands– it brings you to the edge every time. As if no other person could know your body as well as he does.

And then it disappears, Alex frees himself from your grip, lips glistening with you, your arousal all over his chin.

"Not yet," Alex orders, hiking your thighs higher, pressing them closer to your body. Without breaking eye contact again, Alex aligns himself between your legs, angling himself closer.

The first slide in is always the best. Alex hisses as he sheaths himself inside you and you let a moan rip through you, hotel neighbors be damned.

You've been waiting for this the whole day.

Alex gives a few cursory thrusts, his sounds growing louder the more he feels from inside you. You lock your legs around his hips once more, pulling him even closer.

"You better make this orgasm worth it, Alex," you taunt, pressing your forehead against Alex's.

Alex merely wraps his arms around you, pressing himself fully onto you. His hips start to hammer down on yours and you yelp, your whole body rocking with the motions of Alex's thrusts.

He buries his head in the crook of your neck, biting at the taut skin before soothing it with his tongue afterward.

"You know better than to run your mouth, baby," Alex says with a soft chuckle, a contrast with how hard he's pounding into you now. All you can say in response is a garbled mix of his name and a few swear words.

A moment later, Alex pulls away, face contorted into concentration as he readjusts your legs so they lay over his shoulders, giving him an even deeper angle on you.

"Oh fuck–!"

You're cut off as Alex rams into you roughly, evidently chasing his own release now. He pushes your knees closer to your chest and you have to laugh, albeit weakly, seeing as your best friend, the one you swore you weren't sleeping with, has you in a fucking mating press.

"God, Alex, what are we doing?" You choke out, the delicious stretch between your legs building up the pressure in your abdomen.

"You tell me," Alex says before leaning down to kiss you, teeth clashing and tongues darting out frantically. You're bent into yourself in a way that you never knew possible, but here you are, spread for and debauched by none other than Alexander Albon.

Alex moans into the kiss, thrusts getting shallower by the second. Every hit of his pelvis against yours, every drag of his cock inside sends you closer to what you wanted most.

"Come on Alex, give it to me."

Finally, Alex stills, his hips snapping up one last time as he cums deep inside you. He fucks you through his orgasm and you know it's sensitive for him in the way he whines, but a few final strokes are all it takes for you to cum around Alex's cock, vision going white and your nails digging into Alex's back.

You're both panting, breath spent and bodies aching. Alex carefully extracts himself from your hold, pulling out cautiously. You groan at the sensation and he giggles, seemingly amused at your discomfort.

To his credit, Alex rushes to grab the discarded towel he was using earlier, quickly handing it to you as you feel the...remnants of him spill out of you.

"Damn, you came a lot," you comment, slipping the towel between your legs. You meet Alex's eyes and the two of you burst out laughing.

"I was saving that for you," Alex says, settling down beside you, leaning in to kiss you on the cheek. Your face scrunched up as he does so but you're smiling nonetheless.

"Gross," you deadpan.

"Don't say that when my children are literally inside of you," Alex warns.

You elbow him hard in the ribs.

-

You wake up, the smell of coffee the first thing registering in your mind. You roll over and are immediately hit with the wall that is Alex's shoulder.

Alex chuckles, raising his arm up so you can crawl into his side. You groggily pull yourself against his chest, head right against his heartbeat.

"Morning," Alex whispers. You groan in reply, still too sleepy to form coherent sentences.

"I ordered you breakfast. You can go back to sleep if you want to, but I have to go in a bit," he continues and you feel him press a kiss to the top of your head.

You feel a flutter in your chest and your eyes fly open. Great.

"Thanks, Alex," you murmur, cuddling up closer to him. He doesn't say anything, his hand rubbing soothingly up and down your back.

"Love you," you add.

And you do. Love him. As a friend or as something else, you'll just have to figure out.

Alex hums, tucking your head beneath his chin.

"Love you, too."

#f1 x reader #f1 smut #f1 fanfic #alex albon x reader #aa23

[barbieaemond]

As the world retreats|teaser

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x brothel employee!reader (to put it nicely)

Warnings: angst, misogyny, mentions of SA to a minor because alas this is Westeros, smut, accidental voyeurism, blindfolding (more to be added)

Author’s note: it goes without saying that this is not about the brothel lady from the show 💀

Coming soon!

Sneak peek

It brings clarity, the stench, like a bucket of cold water from above.

Piss and vomit tell him that it is not an illusion; he is really treading these filthy streets. He will soon sully much more, namely his word, but also all his good will, to be better, to be different.

No matter how much the hood is pulled down over his head, there is no veil that can hide this weakness. The gods look with contempt on the sins of the flesh, but more on those of the soul. And they have stopped looking at him now, have they not? Fallen too low to be brought back up. Kinslayer.

Why should they care about his weakness? He cares. His religion, the altar to which he has vowed himself, sworn to a book of failures and shames, not his own. But they feel a little bit his own too, it is his blood after all. And perhaps the same weakness that pollutes his brother's blood is plaguing his own.

In the walls of his temple there is a crack; in his garden where he nurtured duties as sharp as thorns he has found an apple, red and plump and glittering, as all poisonous things are.

He had bitten once, and then twice, each time tasting rottener. Spit it, he'd thought. Spit it. Spit it. Instead, he chewed and chewed and swallowed.

He didn’t have to taste it on his tongue, this bad seed, this sweet poison had festered his whole garden, all the paths his blood flowed. Even the mere looking was an act of blasphemy. To him, not to the Seven.

“She said you would never set foot here again.” The old woman, that woman, said as he stepped into the dingy foyer, reeking of cheap perfume, sweat and sex.

“Where is she?”

“Where do you think?”

He had climbed a secret staircase, ending in a narrow corridor with nothing but a hole in the wall, a peephole, feature of all the brothels, for all the damned who loved to reach their peak by watching others doing so.

“No shame in watching, your Grace. The eye is just another door to taste. To see is to devour.”

He’d never thought he’d give credit to a whore, but it felt like it as he pressed his face to the wall. As he watched, parting his lips, twitching, with contempt, with hunger.

The sweetness rolled like saccharine. Lurid. Wretched. Whore.

And then the poison. Beautiful. Beautiful. Beautiful.

#once a teaser always a teaser #liv(in la vida loca) #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #hotd fanfic #aemond fanfiction #aemond smut #aemond x you #aemond x fem!reader

[mechaknight-98]

Beastmaster Bond IV (NSFW) Ft Chaehyun

Author’s note: A bit of an interlude. I saw the dress and thought. I absolutely have to do a Gala Chapter. You all can blame @somicutie08 for the intro

"I don't know Tiger I am just worried ya know," I said to Chaehyun as she wrapped her tongue around my cock. I groan at her excellent skills, as she massages my balls after a deep gag. She always seems to hit that one spot on my scrotum that makes me cum buckets every time she gives me a blow job. She looked at me with her sad pout and my heart softened because I couldn't ever tell her no.

"Rexy you just hatched a Deviljho single-handedly while everyone was stuck out of town, Facing your peers in a Gala should be easy," Chaehyun said.

I wince because she's right but dealing with people it's not the move man.

"I know I should be but that crowd is not my crowd," I responded. Chaehyun smiled and said,

"That's why you need to show up beside me, You wouldn't leave me alone would you,"

My eyes narrowed at my paramour, and her eyes widened with arousal. she loved playing into my possessive nature as it always served to get her so wet and typically gave into whatever demand she had

"I'd never," I growled. Chaehyun smiled and then said

"Great so we fly out in two and a half weeks. We will need to get you a suit here." she smiled at me knowing she had trapped me so elegantly.

“Oh, tiger before I forget I need to talk to you about something important,” I say and before I finish I feel Chaehyun’s anxiety spike. She looks at me with her scared puppy dog eyes and she does the thing she always does when she's anxious she fucks me feral until both of us black out and pass out.

The next day I woke up before her and I stared at her. She looked so peaceful but also so sexy. I caress her side as she rests and watch as she turns over to look at me with a sultry look that sets my loins on a blaze.

“Hey Rex you ready for the next round,” she says seductively.

“While I would love nothing more than to lock you in a mating press right now I think we should talk. I want to preface this by saying upfront. Nothing is wrong with us. It's just that something has happened to me and I want…no think you should know.

Chaehyun stiffens her erect nipples and stares at me as she does and she begins the lewdest display yet. She opens her legs and begins to play with herself in front of me.

"Okay Rexy but after you fill me up," she says seductively.

Tired of this game I respond with, "No I need to talk to you!"

Chaehyun looks into my eyes and moves towards me.

"Please Rexy right after my worthless pussy needs you. Aren't you gonna fill your worthless barren cumdump?" she asks. Her choice of words is concerning because I know she has been super sensitive about being barren recently.

"Chaehyun look it's not about that I..." Was all I could get out before she was on me like a predator cornering its prey. She was kissing me and pushing all my erogenous zones hoping I would discard my concerns. What she didn't count on (and to be honest neither did I. Was my lust and protectiveness combining.)

"Listen here you slut. You are a dirty slut, but you are so much more than just a cumdump. You are my mate, mine to abuse, but you do not get to talk down to yourself as only some worthless sex object. Now you are going to listen to what I have to say then I am going to breed your pretty pusy do I make myself clear slut?" I growl and command. Chaehyun's mewls as she submits to me. My Lust and protectiveness still lead me to continue. "Do you understand Slut?" I growl in a low tone, "Or will I have to leave you untouched." That sent Chaehyun out of her stupor as she nodded.

"Good. now observe." I said as I showed her the flame wisps. Her eyes went wide when she saw them, but before either of us could talk I flipped her and bent her over taking my hard cock and plunging it deep into her pussy. it was sodden and dripping a puddle under her which made entry easy because this was the most molded and fit to my dick she has ever been. I grab her pillowy tits and begin slow and power thrusts into her cunt.

"Good Girl," I cooed as ravaged her. Her moans are an excellent motivator.

"Wait, Dino. We need to talk about..." Chaehyun began. I quickly cut her off.

"You wanted me to fuck you first, you got me all riled up and I am finishing. I am breeding you and you are going to bear me children." I growled as I continued to piston into her pleasant pussy. her slick drenched my cock as I claimed her. I felt her body tense, any time I mention breeding her, her body goes into this weird but sexy catatonic state where her body milks me for all I am worth. growing tired of doggy I pull out lift her tiny body onto the bed pin her legs up above her ears and put her into mating press.

"Oh God, Breed me," Chaehyun moans. I continue to piston as her cavern squelches and tightens around me. her lower lips drool for me in a lewd mirror of the upper ones as I feel something change about this time. I can't think about it too long as I get caught up in the moment and lose control exploding into her pussy. My orgasm is violent and long as I feel like I am cumming in her for hours (it was 7 or so minutes) but I keep pounding into her. My only thought was filling her with my seed. Chaehyun moans as she climaxes calms down and climaxes again through my orgasm as I just continue to dump rope after rope after rope of cum inside her. My brain is both clear and mush at the same time when the haze of lust finally clears. Chaehyun looks at me satiated and full.

"What happened to you? You never do that?" she said

"You did that. You talking bad about yourself made me angry and horny."

"Well, maybe I should degrade myself more often because fuck, you have never cum this much." I shake my head and get back to the bed to hold her close by spooning her. She looks at my face her eyes widen.

"Oh that changed you, I changed you," she said. she grabs her phone and opens the camera and my eyes have this intense teal sclera that permeates around them. Chaehyun giggled, before saying, "Okay enough cuddles we have work we need to do." I nod and get ready for the day.

over the next week, we prepare for the Gala and I start noticing things about Chaehyun. her energy is sapped a lot easier. she is a lot more aggressive with others and snippy including with me, but also her need to fuck is increased as well, she is almost always demanding more sex. I've had to now spend entire lunch breaks just to satisfy her in addition to our morning and night rituals, and I am worried. thankfully though it doesn't cloud her judgment as she has been excellent in handling the zoo with me and making sure everything is running smoothly, and as we approach the time of the Gala her focus diverts to that.

she's taking the spearhead on most of it so I just stay in the background letting her do her thing. On one of the nights, I managed to get some time and talk to Tony.

"Hey little bro," I greet him after the zoo closes.

Tony "smiles" as he greets me but his head tilts.

"You're mate where is she?"

"She is getting things ready for an event she wants us to go to, so I figured I talk to you as she has been consuming my time a lot lately,"

"Is that wise because she is with child?" Amaterasu (She was also there cuddling with Tony.) I blink repeatedly processing what I just heard

"Oh and how do you know this?" I ask my two Magnamalo friends.

"She is going through the shift," Tony clearly says, "As have you," he adds.

I nod and then say, "Okay then I will go address that right now."

For those unaware megafauna *who only pair-bond once* (specifically females) go through a shift when they become pregnant the first time. Essentially the hormones that promote breeding triple in and their bodies become a baby-making factory for 4 cycles of gestation. this means that typically for those 3-5 years of gestation, all they want to do is breed and nurse their babies and breed again. they become hostile to any nonmale that is a non-mate or familial tie, and other females. (More so to other females) I never considered this though because she was missing the key symptom. lactation

I arrive home to tell her the news and when I arrive and open the door I smell her before I see her. I also smell the smell of cookies but more so the scent of her arousal. to me, it smells like what my brain associates comfort which is smores. her scent drives me wild I feel my cock strain in my pants as I quickly close the door. the sound of squelching in the distance is all I hear along with banshee-level moans.

"Tiger," I call out slightly frightened as to what could be waiting for me in our apartment. the response is bone-chilling.

I hear a growl and the scent begins to become even more intense.

"Rexy left me all alone, and now he's back. Rexy is going to be a good boy and let his tiger ride him right?" her voice takes on a tone I have never heard. somewhere between sultry and wildly deranged. it's as sexy as it is tense. Her eyes have the same teal sclera as mine and she radiates this intense sexual aura that is intense, to say the least. my body gives in to her demands as she approaches. My cock becomes painfully hard and starts to dump arousal into my blood. my mind begins to cloud but I try to fight it.

"Hey Tiger is everything okay?" I ask meekly.

"Yeah. I just was making cookies with ice cream because I have been having all these random cravings and just this desire for my man hit me. I couldn't help it. I have been fucking myself for hours but I can't cum. So I am going to need you and that dick of yours to finish me off." I look behind her to see a trail of her slick on the floor. She brings her hands to my head and lowers my head to be even with hers. she looks me in the eyes, and I see her eyes have become slits her pupils a dark crimson color.

"Don't worry Rexy Mommy will take good care of you," she whispers. I feel my body starting to burn arousal too. I had something I needed to tell her something important, but my memory was fading fast.

"My Rexy is trying so hard to think right now," she says as she strokes my cock. (Wait when did I get naked, when did she get on top of me? When did we get to our bedroom?)

as if hearing my thoughts Chaehyun said, "Rexy don't fight it. Mommy just wants to help her, so please give in." her words sent me over the edge and I blacked out.

The next day I woke up with my collar covered in hickeys and my back with scratch marks. My dick is still rock hard though as I look down at it I scold it.

"Can you go down would you?" but it remains hard nonetheless. I smell bacon and other breakfast foods as I get up and put some boxers on. I walk to the kitchen where Chaehyun only has an apron on, while she cooks breakfast.

"Hey, Daddy. thanks for last night you were an animal." Chaehyun said.

"I groaned and replied, "Well at least you remembered it and enjoyed it. I don't remember anything." Chaehyun smiled before saying

"You came in me four times and passed out after the fifth, but I need another round." she cooed. at that point, the brain fog cleared and I was able to tell Chae.

"Um, Tiger I think you're going through the shift," I state calmly. Chae looks at me and licks her lips

"Um, I don't think so. I am not lactating, and my sex drive hasn't increased. we fuck the same amount." She said as she was actively looking at my crotch and licking her lips. I let that slide and go for a different approach because I know if I press the issue it's going to awaken both of our prey drives and it will evolve into an argument and lead to us fucking for hours on end. We had stuff to do today and I couldn't afford to get behind. Our flight to Korea was tonight. Containing her would be exceptionally difficult. So I play her game

"Okay, do you need any help?"

"Oh thanks, Rexy but no I am pretty much done."

"Okay, I will start the dishes then."

Chaehyun smiles. She knows I hate doing them so she's pleasantly surprised I decide to. As I do the dishes Chaehyun comes from behind and lowers my boxers. My hard cock is quickly caressed by her soft hands.

"Chaehyun, please. We need to pack."

"No we need to fuck then we can pack," she says as she caresses me with her other hand.

"My marks are still present good. that will let them know you're mine," she says luridly. I groan as one of my major verbal pleasure points is her claiming me as hers.

"God yes!" I moan. "I am yours and yours alone," I affirm. Chaehyun tightens her grip on me.

"Good boy I am glad you know your place. by my side, or in me." she cooed while stroking me.

Her arousal is beginning to overwhelm my brain again. I can't afford to black out here but I want nothing more than just to breed her again and again and again. I feel her take off the apron and feel her soft body press into mine.

“Stop fighting it, join me. I know you feel the need as much as I do. Your rationality just makes you fight it. Give in to your instincts and let the animal out,” my mate whispers as she strokes me slowly. “Please I want you with me not the repressed blackout you. I want my intelligent and savage mate to ravage me. not my arousal-drunk partner,” she whispers and her hands wrap around my body, I try to stay focused but it's hard.

“Rexy embrace it stop fighting it please let it take you. You need it.” Chaehyun encourages and I start to feel my body heat up uncontrollably. I see the wisps begin to float around me.

“That's it babe be at peace with an animal inside don't fight it. Let your mind clear and your instincts guide you.” Chaehyun encourages I feel my mind breaking as this weird combination of ideas spill and proliferate through my mind

“Stop fighting give in,” Chaehyun cooed as her voice and hands got braver. My breathing hitches as I feel her envelope me,

“Don't black out stay with me Rexy embrace your instincts,” Chaehyun says as she has me nearing the edge, but before I can freefall she stops touching me. I turn and scowl at her. She smiles as she eats her breakfast. My throbbing cock is dripping precum as I stare at her enticing body. My brain is left overwhelmed by the myriad of thoughts and emotions I feel.

Chaehyun smirks at my discomfort as she takes another bite of her food she says, “We aren't leaving until you fuck me. Not your body, not your mind, not your dick. I'm not leaving until you give me all of you. I know it is hard to bear oneself to another but I need my mate to stop hiding. Show me who you truly are. I won't run.” her lurid whispers echo her words deep into my mind and psyche as aspects of my personality resonate in an almost supernatural hum. Chaehyun finished her plate and sauntered over to me. She caresses my face and gazes into my eyes,

“Come on Rexy aren't you tired of holding back,” and the mental barricade between my primal self and rational self breaks. I kiss her fervently as I lift one of her legs so that I can get a better angle on plowing her pussy and she wraps it around my torso. She smiles

“There he is,” she moans as I impale her on my cock. Her greedy pussy happily accepts though as she drips. She moans sweetly as I slowly plunge deeper and deeper inside. Her hands dig into my back as she tries to anchor herself from the intense pleasure building inside of her.

“You like that? You like how my cock owns your pussy so much that you have to tear me apart,” I groan as I finally bottom out inside of her. She smiles and says,

“Yes, more than anything now fill me with your cum!” I start thrusting into her deeper and harder than I ever have before and I watch her just lose herself to the pleasure. I smirk at her convulsing body as she spasms around my cock.

“You like it,” I ask smugly

“Yes, yes, yes. I can feel you hitting my womb,” she answers. I grin madly as I flood her insides with my seed and she moans overwhelmed. After our little session, we shower together and pack. Throughout the day we mate some more as Chaehyun insists on prancing around nude because she can't get enough of me, but alas we have to stop so we can catch our plane. It sucks because I was balls deep inside of her when my alarm went off.

Chaehyun glares at me as I pull out but I merely say, “Look you wanted to go on this trip. I didn't. I'm more than happy to cancel and fuck you till you're stuffed like a turkey.” I see Chaehyun’s mind fight her body as she is super enticed by the idea. I see her moan as she considers it but her mind wins out and we grab a ride to the airport.

“Ugh, why can't I say no to you,” I groan to Chaehyun who smiles before saying,

“I don't know why you thought you could beat a girl from Busan,” I laugh and kiss her cheek as we settle into the bed on the plane.

Chaehyun smiled and demanded another kiss and another and additional after that before taking my face and smashing our lips together. When she breaks it I see a familiar glint in her eye.

“No, we are not doing that I say before turning over and going to sleep next to her. Chaehyun groans annoyed.

#kpop fanfic #chaehyun smut #kep1er smut #kep1er chaehyun #kep1er #chaehyun #kim chaehyun

[hemmingshouse]

you’re not my pizza / chris sturniolo

summary: chris had always felt a hatred towards you ever since you two met. little did you know that after your outburst he would finally come to his senses.

warnings: enemies to lovers (sorta?), cursing, yelling, angst, sappy!chris

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“this is what i told you all about!” you exclaimed happily as you finally found the tiktok you’d been searching for ever since you stepped foot into the sturniolo house hold. you found a tiktok trend you thought the boys would love to do and made it your mission to find the video to show them. “it’s gonna be so fuckin’ funny.”

chris was sat across from you at the kitchen island whilst matt and nick were on both sides of you. you straightened your arms so the two brothers were able to see what was going on. when you three giggled it caused chris to roll his eyes, shaking his head as he internally told himself to shut up instead of making a snarky remark about how annoying you and your unhealthy tiktok obsession were. you slid your phone towards chris with some hesitation, the guy never really checking the video your tiktok played on repeat.

“nah, i feel like we could actually nail that,” matt chuckled as he watched his younger brother, nick wrapping an arm around your shoulders as he patted your head in an agreement to matt’s statement. “chris? are you in?”

the youngest of three looked up from where he was texting away on his phone, unbothered with what you all just talked about and the way the video played on a loop right in front of him. he sighed, “if this is about that stupid tiktok idea of hers, i’m not doing it.”

nick scoffed and raised his eyebrows, “excuse you?” he started as he sat up straight, “drop that attitude motherfucker, at least she’s coming up with ideas whilst you’re sitting here doing absolutely nothing.”

it had always been easy getting along with matt and nick ever since you met them. you met nick in the local park nearby your house when he struggled to get the right angle for his new pictures and asked you to help him out. when you showed him the ones you took, he swore on his life that nobody besides you or his two brothers could take his instagram pictures.

matt showed you around the neighbourhood the first time he hung out with you after nick had told him you moved down from boston to la to persue your art career and didn’t really know anybody just yet. he drove you around, loving the way you two bonded over your love for root beers and pepperoni pizza. matt always found it fascinating to hear your stories about boston because your lives were so similar yet so different. it was crazy how you only lived in the same state and only a few blocks down the road from the sturniolo household, but never crossed paths once.

chris, on the other hand, was another story. because matt and nick took so much interest in their newest friend and tried to build up a good and healthy friendship with you, they sometimes spent less time with chris. he always declined tagging along in the beginning, being satisfied with the alone time and how quiet the house was without his two brothers, but when they started to bring you to their house he switched moods instantly.

you weren’t really sure why chris despised you as much as he did. you often let the boys be and did your own thing, yet chris was always nagging about how his brothers rarely ever spent time with him anymore. you tried to bail out of today as well as the previous time, but matt was already in your driveway to pick you up when you tried to cancel.

it was times like these where you weren’t fazed with anything chris had to say. somehow and some way, that kid always tried to get under your skin and you always let him because you were scared his brothers were going to pick his side and drop you instantly.

but this time, you’ve had enough. you narrowed your eyes at chris as he looked almost proud of himself for spitting out another nasty remark. you ticked your head to the side before speaking up. “you’ve been yapping all fucking day and running your mouth, yet you fail to come up with something that actually makes sense? or something that’s gonna benefit you and your brothers. don’t fucking talk to me like that.”

matt’s mouth dropped and nick let out a yell at your comeback, slapping his hands over his mouth as he looked back and forth between you and chris. the smirk on chris’s lips turned into a thin line, his fingers creating a dent into the pepsi can he was currently holding because of how infuriated you got him by running your mouth.

“what the fuck was that?” he spoke up, eyebrows raised cockily as he leaned forward onto the marble kitchen island. “didn’t you learn to be quiet when it’s not your turn to talk?”

nick was gonna shut his brother’s behaviour down by stepping in and getting a word in, but you shot him a quick look not to. you turned your head back to meet a cold gaze, grin dancing on chris’s lips. “didn’t you learn to say thank you when someone tries to sort out your shit? you’re a fucking asshole and quite frankly, i’m fucking done with how you’re treating me.”

you stepped down from the high bar stool and grabbed your phone off the counter from where matt placed it back in front of you after saving the tiktok video you spent ages searching for after chris didn’t take a single look at it.

“y/n..” matt spoke up quietly, grasping your hand in his when you tried to reach for your house keys. “i’m sorry he’s such a shitface. please stay?”

“he can never help but be an egocentric little shithead when he doesn’t get his way,” nick spoke up disappointingly, running a hand through his hair as he took a look at their youngest brother. “i can’t believe your pathetic ass.”

you shook your head and sent matt an apologetic smile, squeezing his hand quickly before reaching for your purse that hugh from the bar stool. “i was never gonna get through his thick skull to begin with.”

“oh look, she’s walking away from confrontation again!” chris exclaimed as he shook his head in disbelief and sat back in his chair. he earned a smack on the back of the head from nick and a middle finger and deep, disappointed sigh from matt.

“luckily for you, i won’t ever step a foot into this house when you’re in it. you fucking win, christopher. i can’t be fucked with your bullshit anymore.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

it must’ve been a week and a few days since you left the sturniolo household in a rush to get to your uber before anyone noticed you were sobbing your eyes sore on the way out. matt offered to drive you home, but you didn’t want him to get into a fight with chris for choosing your side.

you hated the way chris put you down every time, the way his face would scrunch up in pure disgust whenever you’d say or do something he wasn’t a fan off. you couldn’t brush it off anymore, it had gotten too much.

you just submitted an essay for your art course and decided you’d order yourself a pizza and watch a few episodes of your favourite show to try and relax a little. his words were glued inside your brain and it was hard to not think about them, they truly broke your heart. finding comfort in your favourite food and show seemed like a good thing right now.

matt and nick profusely apologised for their brother’s behaviour. matt had told you they both wouldn’t speak to him until chris came to his senses and would apologise to you. both of you were aware that was a big thing because he despised your guts - why would he ever apologise?

nick was on another level. he had ditched every single plan he and chris made the past few days, just so his brother was able to feel what it felt like to be downgraded the way he did with you. nick’s stubbornness surely made you feel a bit better, but it made you feel a bit torn. even if chris was a major asshole to you, you didn’t want the bond he had with his brothers to get abandoned because of you.

a knock on the stoor caused you to slip out of the trance you were in. you sighed softly and put yourself together before walking towards your front door to collect your doughy pepperoni pizza.

you swung the door open and plastered the smallest smile on your face, one that immediately fell when you saw him standing in the door frame. a sigh fell from your mouth, not wanting to deal with his shit right now. “you’re not my pizza.”

chris bit the inside of his cheek, knowing you were going to get grumpy when he interrupted your peaceful evening. “uhm- no- i’m not no,” he coughed, shaking his head. “hey uhm- i felt the need to apologise.”

you narrowed your eyes, “is that because you’re actually sorry or because you want your brothers to treat you normally again?” you asked him sternly, noticing how his hands slid into the pockets of his black joggers as he rocked back and forth onto his feet.

“i acted like an asshole,” he stated with a nod, “i’ve- like always been an asshole towards you and i’m truly sorry for making you feel the way i always did,” chris spoke softly, “look y/n- we’re so similiar in too many ways and i- i don’t know, it’s just scary to think i’m replaceable.”

“have you been practicing this in the mirror or something? it’s coming out a lil’ too rehearsed,” you yold him seriously, although there was the slightest teasing hint in your voice. “what do you mean by too similar?”

chris was surprised when you stepped out of the way to let him into your apartment, clearing his throat as he took off his converse near the front door. “we share the same interests, have the same fucked up sense of humour and we always yap everyone’s ears off,” he rambled on as you lead him towards the living room, “whenever- i’m- when you’d be at our place i’d always feel a bit left out,” he scratched the back of his neck, “you’re such a fun person to be around and- i don’t know, it felt like matt and nick chose you over me sometimes. i know that’s not your fault at all now, but i took it out on you because that- fuck- that was just the easiest way to deal with it.”

his words caused your heart to break a little. the frown on his face, scrunched up eyebrows and a hurtful look in his eyes made you feel so guilty for being so unaware of this all. you sat him down on the couch, clearing your throat.

“i’m so sorry you feel that way, chris,” you spoke softly, fiddling with the ring in your middle finger, “that was never my intention to begin with. i always hung out with y’all because i found you interesting - like matt and nick always told me we’d get along so well and i find it sad we never truly got around to actually hanging out because you always brushed me off so fucking hard.”

the brunette nodded his head, “i know,” he agreed, “i now know i should’ve gotten to know you before i came to a conclusion. i feel so stupid and i’m so so sorry, i can’t begin to understand how fucked up i made you feel.”

the way he was nervously fidgeting with the material of his joggers and how he ran his hand through his hair three times in the past minute made you realise that he couldn’t be more genuine than he was right now. you made a mental note to thank matt and nick for putting some sense into him as well, but the anxious boy on your couch was now your main priority.

“it’s alright chris,” you smiled softly as you reached forward to brush your thumb across his knuckles in a hope it would calm him down slightly, “thanks for apologising and coming here to explain yourself.”

he chuckled, “matt and nick not talking to me made me think about every encounter we had and i must say - i was kinda proud of you for sticking up for yourself last week.”

it caused you to let out a laugh before chris hesitantly turned his hand so your palms lay flat against each other’s. you were able to see he was trying to figure out if what he was doing was too much or not, so you took it upon yourself to tangle your fingers together with his. “really?” you shook your head with a smile, “was about damn time i scolded at your for being a fucking dick.”

chris laughed and nodded his head in agreement, softly brushing a thumb across your knuckles as a soft rosy blush spread onto his cheeks. you figured it was because you had never been this close before - this being the first time he actually felt physical contact from you. it caused a tingle to run up your spine as chris watched your every move.

chris found it important to read your body language to know if he was crossing the line with you - this new type of friendship making him wonder if it was okay for him to grab your hand or pull you in a friendly hug. he had never found himself wondering what it would be like to be this close to you, your breath fanning his lips and his knee brushing your bare one.

“i’m happy you did,” he spoke up, voice quiet, “we wouldn’t have been here if you didn’t.”

the way your eyes were darting back and forth between his lips and his eyes made your heartbeat race faster than you could ever recall. you weren’t sure why you suddenly felt so fucking attracted to him, but chris showing his vulnerable side must have ignited something in you.

his free hand reached upwards to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear, fingertips softly grazing your cheek. you leaned into his touch while keeping eye contact with him, noticing how he hesitantly started leaning in a bit more. “you’re so beautiful,” he mumbled, hand sliding down to cup your jaw and a thumb running across your soft lips.

you let out a shaky sigh, feeling yourself get worked up with the way chris was holding your face and keeping eye contract throughout it all. it felt surreal to have him this close after all you two encountered, but it also felt extremely good to let go of the hatred you felt for him - ready to have so many other feelings towards the youngest sturniolo.

“if you want me to stop, i suggest you do it now,” he inhaled sharply, “i don’t know if i can stop after i start.”

his words caused your head to spin as his free hand now cupped the other side of your jaw, thumbs resting on your cheeks. you closed your eyes for a few seconds before you looked at him again, “i don’t want you to stop, chris.”

the way you finally called him by his nickname more than once today made him feel all giddy inside as you usually only called him christopher or the occasional motherfucker when you were pissed at him.

he quickly licked his lips as he felt your fingers curl around his wrists, nose lightly nudging yours to test the waters slightly. when he noticed your breath hitch in your throat, chris knew you wanted it as much as he did.

his lips brushed yours every so slightly, loving the way your lip balm slightly got smudged because of his actions. chris was about to deepen the kiss by fully pressing his lips to yours, but got rudely interrupted when the doorbell rang.

he let out a groan and it caused you to giggle, still holding onto his wrists. “i reckon you’re staying over for dinner then?”



✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

do we do a smutty part two? ;)

#chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fanfic

[satorusugurugurl]

different anon here but I absolutely loved the voice kink post, could I maybe ask for a little of spin off of that, and if you feel comfortable could I ask Gojo, Geto and Nanami separately with a reader who is into degradation? Especially the one mixed with praise like how much of a good cocksleeve they are for the boys?

Voice Kink?! (Part Two)

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, FAB!Reader

Word Count: 4,550

Warnings: degradation, cursing, dirty talk, p in v, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, oral sex (M +F Receiving), spicy smut!

A/N: all three parts are a continuation of Part One! Please enjoy! I hope I did okay with the degradation! 😅

Part One

Gojo Satoru:

It had been about two weeks since your boyfriend found you listening to your smutty audiobook. That night, you had rough and passionate sex until either of you could function like normal human beings. Seeing how squirmy and turned on you got just by the sound of his voice gave Satoru a sure confidence boost! You didn't need smutty ASMR clips or audiobooks. All you needed was him.

At least, that's what he'd assumed.

So imagine his surprise when the two of you were at the gym. He was doing the leg press while you worked on the stationary bike. He glanced over at you; he held up two fingers, letting you know he had two sets left to do. But when he looked at your face, it wasn't the face of someone working out hard. No Gojo knew that face better than anyone else.

The way you bit down on your bottom lip with narrowed eyes, how you were in the process of doing your own leg presses, squeezing your thighs together, rubbing them gently, trying to be subtle, but failing miserably. You were horny, and from the earbuds in your ears, Gojo knew you were once again listening to your smutty stories.

That knowledge alone had him disregarding his final two sets, rushing to wipe down the equipment before he towered over you. Gojo smirked coldly the second you turned to acknowledge him. His eyes were dark; his jaw was clenched tight as a vein in his forehead poked out.

“Come on, sweetheart, I think we’ll finish my workout at home.”

He didn't emphasize that his workout would be you. The second you stepped into the apartment, Satoru was on you. His hands tugged your sweaty gym clothes off, yanking the seat belt off your waist. You giggled, not realizing he was upset, until he pushed you toward the living room, bending you over the coffee table.

“Satoru—?” you hesitantly ask, “Uhm, baby?”

His foot kicks your knees apart before his hands tug your tight gym pants down past your thighs, pooling them around your knees. “Yes, slut?” Your pussy throbbed as you turned to look over your shoulder at him.

“W-Well, that wasn't very nice!”

“Oooh and you think rubbing those cute little thighs together at the gym was nice? Stimulating my pussy out in public here, anyone could see? Like a dirty fucking slut?”

Satoru isn't blind; he sees how you rock your hips. “I-I wasn't—” Smack! “Ah!” you cry out, rocking your hips forward as Satoru spanks you again.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, don't lie to me, sweetheart~ you've been such a bad girl, haven't you? Listening to those nasty books in public~ getting all wet because someone is whispering dirty things in that ear?” Satoru smacks your ass again. “What a nasty fucking slut.”

Your panting, pressing your ass back against him, desperate for him to touch you. “Y-Yes, I was listening to my book~ wh-while watching you work out!” The hand on your ass trails down, plunging two fingers inside of your tight heat. “N-nngh!!” you cry out, gripping the edge of the coffee table for support.

“Imaging me fucking you~? Whispering those dirty, smutty things in your ear?” You can't speak as he rubs your g-spot, wet, squelching sounds flooding the room. “Ah~ does it feel so good my little slut can't answer?” Satoru’s tongue runs up the nape of your neck before leaning in next to your ear. “Don’t worry~ you don't have to answer because this needy little cunt is doing all the talking for you.”

The wet squelches got louder as Satoru finger fucks you faster. You're crying out, digging your manicured nails into the wood grain. Seeing you in such a messy and desperate has Satoru yanking his fingers out of your pussy before tugging his sweats down. His fat throbbing cock rubbing over your ass.

“Mhmm, you like this~ you like it when I call you out for being such a dirty whore~ god, what am I going to do with you, huh?” Pre-cum is smeared all over your ass before Satoru grabs it by the base, prodding the leaking tip against your entrance. “Maybe I should fuck you like the whore you are.”

“Fuckin do it!”

You cried out, rocking back, trying to get him inside of you. Your boyfriend smirked, eyebrows raising at you futilely. He cooed, squeezing your ass, watching you blindly, trying to get him to fuck you. You were so desperate and horny; you always got worked up when he talked nasty to you.

“Oh, come on slut~ use me like a dildo~ come on, you can do it.”

“Torruu~ Toru, please!”

“Nu-uh—put your back into it, fuck yourself.”

Sighing in defeat, you reached between your legs, easing his cock inside of you with a whine. You pushed yourself back further, slowly fucking yourself back and forth on him. Satoru smugly smirked as you rocked yourself; His hands groped at your ass, massaging it, “What a good girl~ fucking herself on my cock like the slut she is~! Does that feel good~?” his words had you whining, nodding your head as you began to rock back harder against him.“Mmmh fuck pretty girl~ your ass is rippling with each thrust~ good girl~!” Satoru grits his teeth as you clench down around him, milking him. “N-Nnngh!” Those warm large hands that had been eagerly massaging the fat of your ass move to grip your hips instead.

“S-Satoru—please! Please!”

“Please, what?” Your boyfriend's voice is husky as he groans, pressing himself all the way into you, his cock hitting your cervix.

“Please fuck me!”

“Since my slutty girlfriend begged so prettily, I guess I can give her what she wants.”

Without another word, Satoru’s cock slides out the tip threatening to pop out of your tight heat before slamming back in with a force that rocks the table. Your eyes widen, mouth agape in a silent scream as he hits your g-spot and cervix with a single thrust. He pulls back out again before slamming into you harder. Satoru’s fingers grip your hips so hard it stings, but it's a pain you welcome.

“Look at you~ getting yourself fucked stupid.” You clamp down harder while pathetically whimpering against the table. “But you do it so well~! Taking my cock so fucking good! Like you were made for it slut.” You whine louder with a string of ‘yes’ leaving your lips that has his cock twitching and hardening inside of your wet walls. “Such a good little slut~ I should thank you for being such a dirty whore in public fuuuck shouldn't I?”

“T-Toru!”

“Well, thank you~ sweetheart, for being such a good little slut and getting off in public!” One of his hands leaves your hip, grabbing your head and pressing it against the table. “Haaah! Hah fuck~! Fuuuuck d-don’t I deserve a thank you~? Hmm? For fucking you like you wanted?”

His hips are moving like a jackhammer, plowing you hard, hitting all of the right spots while moving the coffee table against the floor with each thrust. You cry out with tears as you drool against the table's surface. He’s losing control, his dicks expanding, fingers twitching as he whines. God, this was so good. Your twitch convulsed around him, screaming out loud.

“T-Thank you! Thank you, Toru!! I-Im c-cu—”

“That's right, cum for me slut,” he groans through clenched teeth, “cum all over my cock!” As Satoru feels you clamping around him, he growls, dropping his head against your shoulder as you squirt hard, soaking the floor. Your boyfriend whines, lips brushing against your skin. “G-Good girl~! Fuck~! Good fuckin’ girl~! Milk my cock! That’s it!” His hips are erratic as he lets out a loud whine before cumming deep inside of you. Spurts of hot cum make your cry softly as Gojo fills you to the absolute brim, his hips weakly rocking into you, pushing his cum further inside until he stops, sighing heavily.

You lay there against the table as Satoru groans above you. His glossy lips gently move over your sweat-sheen skin. His hands gently massage your waist as he trails kisses up your back. You hum contentedly as you turn your head, kissing him softly. His lips move lazily against yours before he sighs.

“Now that was a cool down.” He kisses you again, pulling out of you gently before lifting you. “Let's get showered and crawl in bed.” there wasn't a single complaint from you as Satoru carried you to the bathroom.

Geto Suguru:

The glass is so cold against your breasts as Suguru rocks his hips against you. Since you left the work function, he'd been eagerly rushing to get you home. And now that he had you in the comfort of your home, he wouldn’t hold back.

“A-Ah Suguru!” you cry out as his large hand tangles in your hair, pulling your face away from the window and overlooking the street before you. “D-Do we have to do it right here?”

His intoxicating earthy musk flooded your senses as he purred into your ear, lips brushing against your earlobe. “What was that? Is my little slut shy now?” the degrading words had your eyes rolling back. His hands pushed your skirt up, pooling it around your hips. “You were so needy at the party, and now that we're in the comfort of our home, you're suddenly shy?” Your husband took your earlobe between his teeth and nibbled on it. “Or did squirting on my fingers satisfy you enough?”

“N-No, that’s fuck—that’s not it.”

“Oooh? Then what is it?”

“T-The neighbors might see.”

Dark strands of hair fall over your shoulder as your husband laughs. For a second, the finest of seconds, you believe he might let you go and drag you to the bedroom. But instead, his hands leave your hips, trailing up to your breasts where he yanks your bra down, exposing your tits. Your gas before he shoves you against the window, breast squeezing against the cool surface.

“But you weren't so shy at the party. So why is it my cocksleeve is so shy now?”

Your loving husband never called you such derogatory things before. For him to call you such nasty words, well, unfortunately, it had a fire burning between your legs. You liked the side of him, hearing him call you his cocksleeve, knowing that he saw you as his, and his alone had your chest heavy with arousal. It was so hot you rubbed your thighs together, a movement that did not go unnoticed by your husband.

“My oh my, what a night this has turned out to be,” he growled in your ear, his hands slowly trailing back down your curves, his fingers hooking under the waistband of your underwear. “First, I learned that you get off to the sound of my voice, and now I can see you getting off to me degrading you?”

“C-Cant help it, Sugu—” your husband watched you rock back, “you're so hot, I get wet over everything you do.”

“Oh?” RIIIIP!! You gasped, feeling your laced underwear fall to the floor underneath you. “Looks like my slutty wife finally learned how to tell the truth.”

The next thing you manage to hear over your heavy breathing is the sound of Suguru’s belt being unbuckled and his zipper being pulled down. Your breath fogs up the window as Suguru’s thick fat cock prods at your tight entrance teasing your needy hole. God, you wanted him so bad; if he didn't get inside of you, STAT, you might lose your mind.

“M-Mmmhm fuck~ Suguru~”

“Shhh~ I know what my little fucktoy needs.” he spits into the palm of his hand, coating his cock with saliva. “Does my little cum slut want my load? Hmm? Is that it bitch?” He presses his cock against your e trance, the tips slowly pushing past the tight ring of muscles.

“P-Please, I want it, I need it, Sugu.” the feeling of the tip of his cock pushing inside of you has you slamming your hands against the window. “Oooh fuck!”

Suguru trails hot open, mouthed kisses down your neck with a grunt. “You need it~? You want to be my fuck toy; are you going to be a good girl and allow me to fill you with my cum? Fuck it into you so deep it seeps out of you all night? Is that what you want?” He slides in only an inch. “Use your big girl words and tell me.” Even without an answer, Suguru pushes in further, growling against your sensitive, heated skin.

“P-please want it! I wanna be filled.”

“Ooh, what a good little slut telling me what she fucking wants.” Suguru slammed into you all at once, filling you to the brim. Your eyes went wide, and a wheezed whine escaping Suguru roughly began fucking into you from behind. “Such a desperate cum hungry whore~ getting off to the sound of my voice~ talking to her like a common whore.”

Your husband likes seeing you so flushed and turned on. How you slid your hands down the window, your moans fogging up the window panel as he sucked in a breath through his teeth. Hearing the gasps and moans had him fuckinf into you earnestly, his eyes narrowing as he reached around toying with your clit, as the other wrapped around your waist, pulling you tight against his chest, allowing his throbbing cock to push further inside of you.

“Look at you are taking this dick like a good slut, taking it so deep~ I wonder if you could see me bulge in your tummy~?” he rests his chin on your shoulder, trying to look. “Awe, you tightened around me. Like a good girl~ your pussy is so honest.”

“S-Suguru!” drool seeps out of the corner of your mouth, “Sugu~!”

His thrusts are deep, each drag of his velvety cock hitting your sweet spots, making you cry out louder as your eyes roll back into your head. You felt so good, and seeing you in such a state had your husband bucking his hips faster, pressing you harder against the glass, leaving your breasts on perfect display for any poor soul that decided to walk by, but that was the fun of it. Not only was Sugurh’s dirty talk getting you going, but the possibility of having someone see you like this made you all the wetter.

The feeling of your slick and his ore-cum coating his cock had Suguru nipping at your shoulders. “That's it~ take every inch of my cock~ god, you nasty little bitch, getting me all worked up at the party~ making me fuck you here against the window like some run-of-the-mill slut instead of my loving wife.” he chuckled against your skin. “But you like this, don't you? Like the possibility of getting caught? Having our neighbors who view you as a sweet loving wife see what a hungry cock slut you are for your husband.”

“Y-Yes! Yes, I want that.”

“Mhmm~ good girl~ good fucking girl so honest~!” his hips move fast, slamming you against the wall with each thrust, drawing cries of pleasure out of you. “That’s it~ that’s it~ fuuuuck your cunt is milking me~ nnngh! So good, baby~ so fucking good~!”

Why was he so hot?! He didn’t have to do much to get you all worked up. Suguru had that effect on you, and he knew it from the way your knees buckled as his fingers rubbed your clit in circles.

“ I-I’m gonna cum! Ooooh fuck I’m gonna cum so hard!”

“Yeah? Gonna squirt for me again, princess~?” You nod, arching back. “So good~ do it slut cum for me, cum all over our window~ just show our neighbors just how fucking slutty you are for your husband.”

Not needing to be told twice, you screamed, head thrown back, resting against Suguru’s shoulder as you squirted all over the window. The sight of your cum slowly dripping down its surface was enough to send your husband over the same orgasmic cliff. His his stuttered as he sunk his teeth into your skin, biting you as he fucked his thick cum inside of you, pushing it in as deep as he possibly could.

“Cummin~ oooh fuck I’m cumming, princess~!” He groaned as he pulled back away from the bite mark. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

Only once you both are done shaking does Suguru pull out of you. He quickly pulls the curtain shut before he leans against it, cradling you gently against his chest. His voice is deep and smooth as he hums your name over and over again as the last waves of your orgasms pass.

“Princess, mmm, you’re utterly insatiable.” He groans as he pulls out of you. “God, I love you.”

“I love you too, Sugu~ god, I love it when you talk dirty to me like that.”

“Oh really?”

“Mhmm~ makes me wet and needy.”

Suguru has you over his shoulder in one swoop, carrying you towards the bedroom. “Good. I hope you’re ready to soak the bed because I’m not even close to being done with you.” In that instant, you were so glad you had invested in a waterproof mattress cover.

Nanami Kento:

“Look at the mess you made.” you’re on your knees, looking up at your boyfriend who towers above you. His hand is wrapped around the base of his cock, stroking it as he motions towards the wet spot on his suit pants. A mess that was caused by yourself when you squirted all over his cock at the school. Didn't warn you not to make a mess?”

Nanami strokes himself up and down, squeezing at the tip of his cock. His head tilts back as a bead of pre-cum dribbles out of the tip. If you knew, this was where you would end up after blatantly disobeying him, you might’ve reconsidered your choices. All you wanted to do was to take him into your mouth and him like he had done for you. But you had made a mess all over his final pursuit; he had decided to pleasure himself above you.

“Such a disobedient whore of a girlfriend I have.” He grunts, stroking himself faster. “Getting off to me shouting, then she has the indecency of begging for me to fuck her on school grounds.”

“Kento please—just let me—” you read your hand up to grip his shaft, only to have your hand watered away by Nanami’s left hand. “Please I wanna make you feel good!”

Nanami chokes on a moan, his eyes rolling back as he strokes his cock faster. “Then perhaps instead of being a dirty needy slut, you should’ve considered what may have happened once we got home. I was planning fully on fuck you into the mattress. But someone was impatient, needy, and desperate for my cock like the whore she is.” You whine at the derogatory terms he’s throwing at you. It makes your pussy throb, eager to please him for him to use you and call you such things. But for him to stand above, you jerking himself off above your face. This was like torturous foreplay, like edging.

“Kento I’m sorry!” Nanami glances down at your face watching as you stick your bottom lip out in a pout. “Please let me help you! I’ll let you use my mouth, please!”

“Now you’re begging for it like some cum thirsty, bitch in heat?”

“Yes! Yes, I’m begging for it! I want you so bad~ please Kento~ please.”

“Please what?”

“Please let me suck you off!”

Your pussy throbbed and clenched around nothing as you continued to stare up at your boyfriend. His gaze softens just a bit, as he hums, taking in your needy desperate appearance. You're squirming, pushing your thighs together, your hands gripping at your pants, as an outlet for all of the desire coursing through your veins. As much as Nanami would have loved to keep this act up, stroking his cock, making you suffer, he couldn't deny that he would much rather use you.

Nanami grunted, stepping closer to you, holding his cock out in front of your mouth. “You begged so nicely, it would be such a shame not to reward you.” He rubbed the tip of his cock over your bottom lip. “Now open up, and say ahh~”

“Ahh~!”

Nanami grunted, shoving his cock deep inside of your throat without any warning. Your eyes went wide as you choked around him, gagging as he gripped the sides of your face. Tears blurred your vision as you focused on exhaling through your nose at the sudden intrusion of his covk kissing the back of your throat.

“Oh fuck~ I thought my dirty need slut wanted me to fuck her mouth?” a blond eyebrow arched as you hummed around his shaft. “You're such a dirty girl~ are you thirsty for my cum?” You hummed again, glancing up at him as the tears spilled over your cheeks. “Then be a good girl for once in your pathetic life and take it all.”

Nanami pulled his cock out of your mouth before slamming it back in the tip, kissing the back of your throat deliciously. You choked and gagged but focused your attention on breathing through your nose and it attempt not to gag. Even though you put in your best effort not to gag around your boyfriends cock, you choked, gurgling around, winning, satisfied, groan from above you. Nanami sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, biting down on it as he set a pace, one that had your clenching, as your arousal soaked your underwear.

“Oooh that's it, just like that dirty little slut. Oooh, haaah fuck~!” You gagged more, moaning as he gripped both sides of your face and we can fucking you. His cock slipped down the back of your throat, causing more tears to stream down your face. “Such a good girl. Take my cock like some fucking whore. But you’re not just any common fucking whore are you? No, you’re my whore.”

You cried out softly nodding as he gripped your face harder, facing your mouth faster. “M-mmm! Ngggh!” you gagged, shutting your eyes tight in pure concentration.

“Oh fuck, fuck you're doing such a good job~ like my own little personal fleshlight~ so good pretty girl~ So. Fucking. Good.” With each thrust you could feel Nanami’s cock getting harder, growing in size as his cock dribbled sweet pre-cum all over your tongue, feeding your lust. “Ah~ shit~ love~!”

Your gagging and moans, drew Nanmi’s attention down. As he fucked your face he watched your eyes shut tight, as your nostrils flared as you struggled to breath through your nose. But the flush that dusted your beautiful skin, told him you were getting off on this as much as he was. His voice, the way he spoke down to you as he fucked your face. All of these factors put together was driving you mad. Thinking about how wet you must be had Nanami yanking his cock out of your mouth.

You coughed roughly drool and precum dripping down your chin as Nanami yanked you up pulling you on to your feet dragging you into the bedroom. He laid down on his back patting his chest as he wrapped his hand around his shaft. You watched him for a moment before he growled grabbing you with his freehand pulling you onto the bed.

“Sit on my face while you suck my cock. I want to taste you.”

“Y-Yes sir!”

A pleased hum of approval sounded in Nanami’s chest as you slipped out of your shorts. “Ooh looks like my little slut can follow simple directions.” You straddled his face, your cheeks burning as you bent forward taking his cock inside of your mouth, just as Nanami spread your folds apart, watching your entrance twitch as you gagged on him. By god, your slick coated your pussy, you really loved him talking down to you.

“Mhmm~” he ran his tongue slowly over your slit, licking from your dripping entrance all the way to your clit. “Fuck~ my dirty girl tastes so good.” his tongue repeated the same movements as you began deep-throating him. “Mmhm~ fucn~ fuck so sweet~ you're getting wetter~ you like sucking on your man’s cock that much hub? Yeah you ducking do.”

“Gahh~” you gagged around him as he began bucking his hip up into your mouth. His cock slid down the back of your throat, as he slipped his tongue inside of your cunt, lapping at the warm spongy walls, groaning as your juices coated his tongue. “Mmm~!!”

Nanami groaned from below you, his face buried deep between your legs as you bobbed up and down, groaning and moaning around his throbbing shaft. Hearing the desperation in you moans, feeling your mouth wrapped so tightly around him, had Nanami moving just as eagerly as you, tongue swirling inside you, the tip rubbing perfectly over that sweet spot deep inside of your, as he reached his hand between your bodies rubbing circles around your clit.

“Mhmm~ fuck~ fuck yes what a good girl~ suckjng my cock so good evening with my tongue buried inside her pussy. Mmm.” Lips replaced his fingers as he sucked on your clit. “Fuck yeah~ mhmm my dirty girl~ suck my cock~ keep it up~ I'm almost there~!”

Your boyfriend dick throbbed deep inside of your mouth as his orgasm crept up on him. He groaned, as you cupped his balls massaging them

In your hands. And that, along with a loud moan around his aching dick has cum filling your mouth. The sweet-salty tang coats your tongue as you try to swallow, but that's a little difficult. Nanami is moaning into your pussy as bucks his hip, losing himself in his orgasm, pulling you down with him.

You cum all over his face, pulling off his dick in a miss of spit and cum. The mess you weren't able to swallow spills all over Nanami's abdomen, as you ride his tongue, crying out his name as you ride out the waves of your orgasm. And your boyfriend, oh he swallows every drop, lapping and flicking his tongue swallowing it down like it was the finest wine in the word. He only gives up his relentless efforts as when you pull away, fighting to free yourself from over stimulation.

“Haaah, haaah-fuck Kento.” you gasp out as he sits up your hip as positing you to sit on his lap with your back against his firm chest. “T-That felt s-so good.”

“Ooh~? Good, because we're just getting started.” his hardening erection rubs over your sore cunt, leaving you staring down in stunned silence: “ooh you didn't think that was your punishment for getting my suit dirty did you?”

“U-Uh—”

“Love, no, that was just a warm up.” he lovingly kissed your cheek turning you to face the mirror on your dresser. “You're in for a long night of making up for the mess you made, by making several messes of your own.”

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks

#jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #jjk #jjk reader smut #jjk gojo smut #jjk geto smut #jjk nanami smut #satoru gojo smut #jjk geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento smut #jjk reader insert #jjk y/n #jjk gojo #jjk men #gojo x reader smut #geto x reader smut #nanami x reader smut #reader jjk #jjk imagines #jjk fanfic #jjk geto #jjk gojo satoru #jjk nanami x reader #jjk gojo x reader #jjk geto x reader #gojo smut #geto smut #nanami smut

[erideights]

With my 6th sense. (2)

Pairing: Hunter x fem! jedi reader

Rating: nothing you should worry about, just tension between the sarge and the general

Wordcount: 2K

Chapters: (1) (3)* (4)* (5)* (*not posted yet)

Warnings and tags: none, extremely slight mentions of war and characters shenanigans

Summary: Another day, another suicide mission for the squad. This time commanded by a jedi general Hunter doesn't seem to really get along.

Side note: as I wrote down some ideas for next chapters, I decided to change a bit the time-line. So this happens 1 year before their introduction in The Clone Wars, 2 year of the separatist-republic war, (trust me, you'll discover why)

A rough pair of gloved hands awkwardly but subtly tug at the collar of his new, extremely layered outfit that clings to his skin instead of his usual gear and armor. Hunter is still not on board with the fit change and the blatant lack of protection for such a risky mission. Though the chest plate and another, smaller plate cover his torso and right leg, it just doesn't feel right.

He gets the need to not be recognized as Republic soldiers since the political and military fallout would be a nightmare with no end in sight, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it. And he doesn’t.

Narrowing his eyes, he crosses his arms over his chest and settles into one of the seats in the cockpit of the ship. His gaze is fixed on the holomap in the general’s hands, as is all his attention.

"I'd love to say our last recon squad managed to send back a better scan of the planet, but..." (Y/N) sighs and shakes her head slightly, an apologetic smile on her lips as she shrugs. The blue light from the holomap reflects on her youthful face, and Hunter can’t help but wonder how much field experience someone like her must have to be sent on a mission like this. She’s clearly not a kid, but she doesn’t seem like a 500-year-old Jedi master like the legendary Yoda he’s heard about.

Does he actually have doubts about her leadership and actual ability to act and adapt during this mission? Absolutely. But Hunter distrusts anyone outside his squad or other clones, well aware of the training they’ve all been through and their capabilities and limits. He doesn’t know hers. And that blindness it’s dangerous.

“I can’t give you more. The fact that we even know where Serenno is and have a rough map of the planet is a miracle in itself. So we’ll work with what we have and improvise as we go.”

“I like that,” Wrecker chimes in enthusiastically, pounding his fists together in a display of eagerness to blow things up.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that’s your style,” The jedi admits with a hint of amusement. “I’ve also heard that you like to cause chaos wherever you go and leave nothing standing behind, so I imagine that reminding you this is a stealth mission where we can’t blow anything up doesn’t exactly thrill you.”

“Buzzkill,” grumbles the big clone, exasperation evident on his face. Crosshair clicks his tongue, and Tech silently takes notes on everything being discussed.

“You wouldn’t be the first to call me that,” she replies with a playful smirk.

It’s strange how she effortlessly blends with the squad’s energy, her charismatic and fun aura making the clones not only listen to her but also interact with her as if they’ve known her forever.

Hunter, though not as maniacally as Tech, makes mental notes of the mission, paying close attention to every detail the Jedi outlines. Finding the scientific base where they store the droid schematics will be the easy part. Tracking the forested area and locating the entrance will be child’s play for him. Getting in and reaching the communications room for Tech to hack and steal the schematics without making noise… maybe not so much.

“They’ll shoot down our shuttle before we even get to fantasize about getting near the planet’s orbit,” Hunter interjects, tilting his head to one side. The way he looks at her, with such an overwhelming intensity reflected in his brown eyes, seems like a way of challenging her in front of his squad.

“They won’t if they don’t see us coming,” (Y/N) answers without batting an eye, her gaze fixed on him, her lips curving ever so, so slightly. If he’s trying to discredit her and make things difficult before the mission has even started, he’s in for a big surprise. Pressing a button on the holomap’s projector, a Separatist cargo ship appears in full view. “Commander Cody obtained some Separatist shuttle codes during his last mission. All we need to do is use them to pass as one of their ships, dock, and detach as soon as we’re in the atmosphere. We will land as close to the forest as we can to camouflage the ship, and for the rest of the way all of us will use our legs.”

“With the schematics of one of those ships I could mask our signal to mimic theirs once the proximity scanner detects us,” Tech adds without even looking up, his eyes glued to his datapad.

“I’ll get you those before we exit hyperspace,” she promises, nodding, pleased with their cooperation and the lack of complaints beyond, well, not being able to blow anything up. She’s sure Wrecker’s heart is broken since she mentioned that.

“Any other questions, Sergeant?” In her voice there's distant touch of… annoyance? Challenge? The jedi raises an eyebrow at the clone, silently pushing him the same way he did a few minutes ago with her. She doesn’t know what his problem is—whether it’s with her specifically or all Jedi in general—but she’s not about to let him intimidate her. She’d already be dead if she wouldn’t be capable enough to deal with way worse situations than a territorial man with trust issues and a heavy feeling of rejection towards others' command.

Besides, her mission isn’t to get along with him. Would his cooperation certainly make everything easier? Yeah, sure, but she will do just fine if at least the others listen to her.

Hunter grunts quietly, the skepticism refusing to leave his face even if he had to admit to himself, her plan seems to be well tied. "Just hoping we don’t get shot to pieces in these outfits."

(Y/N) just scoffs, rolling her eyes. Of course he had to complain about the whole ‘bounty hunter/scavenger/mercenary’ outfit. "You’ll be fine, sergeant. The entire point of this mission is to not trigger any blaster."

Wrecker, seated nearby and silent until now, pipes up again with a grin. "Yeah, Hunter, lighten up. We’re practically invisible in these things!" He gives a playful nudge to Crosshair, who rolls his eyes but smirks nonetheless.

Tech, ever the practical one, adjusts his glasses and adds, "Statistically, our chances of success are improved with stealth and subtlety. The armor is merely a psychological comfort."

Hunter shakes his head, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, yeah. Let’s just hope those stats hold up when the blaster bolts start flying."

‘’Again…’’ she sighs softly, licking her lips in an absentmindedly gesture while she tilts her head to the side, eyes looking for Hunter’s from across the holomap. Thanks to the Maker Jedi training comes served with an extra bundle of patience. ‘’let’s try to not reach that point.’’

...

As the ship hums through hyperspace, the journey long as she promised, everyone settles into their own routines after wrapping up their meeting, either to prep or kill time. Wrecker's lifting a couple of crates like they're weights, Crosshair's checking and cleaning his rifle, and Tech's deep in his datapad, muttering calculations and plans under his breath. The low, constant buzz of the engines creates a background noise that almost drowns out the tension in the air.

But this isn’t her ship, it’s not a place where she can really take a breath and relax, especially with how territorial the sergeant —not so subtly— has shown himself to be. She'd rather avoid getting comfy only to have him show up with that death glare of his and say something among the lines of ‘That’s my spot.’ So she decides to do a final check on each step of the plan and her clothing, making sure the belt where she keeps her lightsaber is properly secured.

Nonetheless, a question has been bugging her since they all met back in the base, and despite trying to keep it to herself for what feels like forever (but is really just a second), she can’t really stay quiet. That’s not her style.

“I got a question,” she starts, casually leaning her arm on the seat where Tech’s sitting. She doesn’t even look at him, avoiding any awkwardness. She speaks to the whole group, knowing they can hear her from the cockpit. “Who’s the genius who landed back on Coruscant?”

Without missing a beat or even bother to look at her, almost the entire squad responds in unison, “Hunter.”

As if her body had just been struck by lightning, the jedi freezes and bites back a laugh, her lower lip trembling for a fraction of a second before she presses her lips together in a frown, trying to keep a straight face and to avoid, at all cost, to let her gaze slip to the sergeant. Clearing her throat, she nods to herself, breathing very, very slowly and swallowing hard. She knew it. She would have bet her life on it, and now Obi-Wan owes her 20 credits.

From the corner of her eye, though, she catches a subtle reaction from Hunter—a slight tightening of his jaw and a quick, almost imperceptible smirk. And until now, the sergeant was sitting a few feet away, absentmindedly twirling a vibroblade between his fingers. The gesture by itself was innocent, the jedi sure that was nothing more than a way to distract himself and pass the time, or a way to better focus on his thoughts like any other method there could be, but even if it was almost meditative, there was an underlying intensity to it.

His presence is just so loud, she cannot help but to end up sneaking a glance at him, catching his eye for a split second. He looks up, their gazes locking. There’s a moment, just a heartbeat, where the air seems to thicken too much for comfort.

“Got something to say, General?” Hunter asks, his voice low, husky. There’s a hint of challenge in his tone, again, like he’s daring her to say something and to just give him an excuse to… bark ar her. She wouldn't be surprised at all.

“Nothing. Just wondering if your knife skills are as sharp as your flying ones,” she shoots back, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. She couldn’t just keep quiet, right?

Hunter's lips twitch, maybe the start of a smile, but most probably not. “You planning on finding out?”

“Maybe,” she shrugs, arching an eyebrow, arms crossed over her chest, leaning back against the wall as soon as she reaches the cockpit. “Depends on how the mission goes I suppose.”

Without saying another word and clearly annoyed, Hunter puts the knife inside the holster strapped to his left wrist in one fluid motion, his gaze still locked on hers. His voice's raspy, low, and there's this feeling she cannot shake off, telling her there's something else behind his words. “You think this is a game, General? Lives are on the line here.”

“I’m well aware, sarge. Just because I smile doesn’t mean I’m not taking this seriously.” Her voice softens a bit ‘cause she understands his point and what war means, but that fire behind her eyes doesn't falter, that resolution intrinsic in her being doesn't weaken, her gaze fixed on his own. 

And as expected since he caught her looking at him, the tension hanging heavy between them gets even thicker for a moment, the rets of the Batch already used to Hunter's not so subtle issues with other'safter many seconds carefully measuring his next move, or so she thinks, Hunter gives a small nod, acknowledging her words. “Good. Just make sure you're ready to do what's needed to even if it's not The Jedi Style.”

“Don’t worry, that's my signature move.”

#hunter tbb #tbb hunter #tbb hunter x reader #the bad batch #the bad batch fanfiction #bad batch #the bad batch x you #hunter x reader #sergeant hunter #tbb fanfiction #tbb tech #tbb crosshair #tbb wrecker #star wars

[flowerwrites06]

limelight euphoria — myg

LIMELIGHT EUPHORIA | Yoongi | Oneshot | Request or Original 

Original Request: something like estranged partners but they need to be affectionate to each other in public occasions as they have an image to uphold (angst & petty jealousy) Plot: Two bandmates struggle to maintain a successful tour and their tumultous feelings for each other. Pairing: Rockstar!Yoongi x Rockstar!OC (Name: Kiku) Genre: Rock Band AU Type: Oneshot Rating: R18+ Word Count: 5.5k+ Warnings: angst, arguments, implications of cheating, explicit sexual content. Author’s Note: this was so much fun to write, I hope you enjoy!

It was a dream come true and Kiku made sure that was the only thought rushing through her head when Namjoon announced they would be going on tour. The past few months had been nothing but hell with every night fuelled with a heated fight. Even now, Kiku sat far away from Yoongi when in another time, they would be sharing a chair in their studio gathering.

“We’ll be going around Asia,” Namjoon said. His face partially covered by the light plumes of tobacco smoke from the ashtray.

Kiku perked up at the mention. “How many dates in Kyoto?”

“We got two nights,” Namjoon replied, looking down at the different dates. “So you have time.”

Kiku hadn’t been in Kyoto for years. It would be nice to see something a bit more calm compared to the rushing city of Seoul, even though she enjoyed this most of the time. She remembered the daily ritual of her part-time job in the record store with her high school friend, Botan before going to practice with the band. It seemed so simple back then.

“How long will we be gone?” Yoongi asked in a raspy tone, scarred by constant smoking. One of their first cause for arguments was his consistent increase of smoking, drinking and drugs which Yoongi rebutted to be on account of her nagging.

Kiku had stopped nagging but the increases didn’t stop. He kept getting worse and the dark circles under his eyes became a permanent fixture.

“There will be two nights in Seoul and one night in Busan but the whole tour might take a few months,” Namjoon answered with a wave of his hand.

Taehyung cleared his throat, peering through his hair which was getting far too long over his eyes. “Is that gonna be good for you two?”

“We’ll be fine,” Kiku said with an unconvinced tone.

“You sure?” Namjoon asked this time which felt a bit too serious. “You’ve been fighting for the past two months straight.”

“We’ve taken some breaks to fuck,” Yoongi mused.

Kiku glared but tried to keep it brief. “We’ll behave. Promise.”

“She says that but she’s the one who starts the fights.” Yoongi tugged at the strands again, trying to push her because perhaps he knew she wanted something better than this.

That she wanted a partner who was sweet to her instead of aloof, who didn’t pound down drugs and smoke like it was the only thing he enjoyed anymore, who didn’t use fucking as a way to quickly quell bigger problems. He also knew that Kiku wouldn’t do anything to make it stop.

That was what made Kiku most angry and hurt. That he knew she would always keep this going and never let it stop.

“You’re starting it now,” Namjoon said to cut into any tension building.

Yoongi scoffed. “We’ll behave.” He ensured to keep his voice mocking regardless.

“Sure.” Taehyung grabbed a bottle of beer from the mini-fridge.

“Hey, you’ve fought with your girlfriend in front of us.” Yoongi gestured.

“Yeah, once.”

“My girlfriend is in the band so I’m stuck, it’s harder.” He waved his hand.

Kiku’s brows furrowed. “Don’t act like I just got here.”

“You act like you just got here.” Yoongi narrowed his gaze.

“Okay, see that, that’s a fight,” Namjoon said, gesturing to them. “Yoongi, stop being a dick. And Kiku, stop falling for it.”

Kiku rolled her eyes slightly. “Sorry.”

“Suck up,” Yoongi muttered to himself.

-

The morning of the tour should’ve been the easiest of all. But somehow, Kiku had to be welcomed with another tabloid. At first, she assumed it was just dramatic flairs especially since this tour was pulling them into worldwide articles. Unfortunately, pictures showed a different story.

Through a vision of red and heated anger in her chest, Kiku saw him. A drunken Yoongi guiding a girl into the hotel and the journalists having a field day with their buzzwords about how sad Kiku must be. What a pity that Kiku would see this and sob like a broken princess who lost her crown.

Kiku would’ve thrown her phone against the wall if she didn’t need to travel with her band and dipshit boyfriend. She took a deep breath, had a quick shower and stomped her way to the lobby where everyone waited. The crowd outside were much larger now than ever before.

A headache pricked at her forehead. She saw Yoongi from the corner of her eye but didn’t look his way, only getting a glimpse of his relaxed posture and dark hair over his face.

Kiku put her shades on to shield away the sunlight so her headache could be soothed.

“Should’ve gone through the backdoor,” Taehyung said in mumbling, deep voice from just waking up.

“They wanted to make a whole fuss. So hold your breath,” Namjoon said.

Kiku rubbed her temples as they began to open the door. She felt Yoongi’s hand on her back and immediately shifted away. She wanted to push him away and scream at him but clearly, that would only be more excitement for the assholes outside.

It truly was a moment to hold her breath when they finally began to walk through the crowd, getting pushed back by security guards. Everything was going as smoothly as it could. Until Yoongi decided to make her morning worse. All they had to do was get through the entrance door to their tour bus. But Yoongi had to show off as always. He grabbed onto Kiku’s hand, linking their fingers together.

He knew that Kiku had no choice but to pretend that nothing was wrong. That she didn’t want to slap him across the face for the confidence he held after what he did. Finally, the cool air from inside the tour bus cooled some of her skin and one of their security guards slammed the door shut.

As Namjoon and Taehyung moved to sit at her couches, Kiku yanked her hand back roughly. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Kiku asked in a light rasp.

Yoongi’s brows furrowed. “What now?”

“Don’t just hold my hand for the pictures like a dickhead.” She gestured to the crowd.

“I was holding your fucking hand cause we were in a crowd.” Yoongi asked through gritted teeth. “Are you seriously gonna have a tantrum over that now?”

“Yoongi,” Namjoon said.

“No, it’s the first day and she’s already nit-picking about dumb shit all over again.” He glared at her.

Whatever tears were going to form in her eyes steamed with fury. “Just keep your damn hands off me.”

Yoongi scoffed with a bitter smile. “You’re a fucking brat, you know that?”

“Don’t put this on me, you’re the one who fucked this up in the first place.” Kiku ran her fingers through her hair.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Kiku shook her head, looked over to their agent and grabbed the tabloid papers before they could explain anything. Even Namjoon wasn’t intervening. They all knew. Everyone knew and it only pushed her to throw the papers at Yoongi’s face. “Don’t talk to me about having tantrums. What the fuck is this?”

Yoongi wanted to scream and be angry but for a brief moment, he saw the headlines. He picked up the newspaper. It was clear. Him escorting a girl into the hotel. When he stared up, he saw niether Namjoon nor Taehyung looking his way but to the side. Nor their agent. For the past few months, it was both him and Kiku fighting back and forth. They were both at fault. But now he had done it. That final snap of a thread that was already fraying.

“Come on…” Yoongi looked over at Namjoon and Taehyung. Not Kiku but the rest of the band and the fucking agent. As if this was just a public faux pas. “…she’d been driving me crazy.” He gestured to her.

Kiku pursed her lips as hot tears began to form in her eyes. For the first time, her chest clenched. So he did do it on purpose, just to hurt her. “You’re a piece of shit.” She walked away to the bathroom and slammed the door shut.

The slam echoed throughout the bus as Yoongi stammered. The throes of his hangover were already making it difficult to explain himself. “Look, I don’t think anything happened.” He knew that was stupid even in all his stubbornness.

Namjoon’s disappointed face was enough to let him know this viscerally. “I’ll talk to you later. Just take a breather.”

-

The drive was uncomfortable as Yoongi expected. Everyone avoided his gaze and there wasn’t even energy to scold them on fighting again. He wanted to be stubborn to somehow maintain a level of integrity but just because he couldn’t remember what happened didn’t mean that he didn’t invite the damn girl into the hotel.

Yoongi was frustrated and got a separate hotel room, just to get some distance and air. But a dark part of him strayed too far and wanted to feel something other than anger.

Once the bus parked, Taehyung and Kiku walked out of the tour bus for a smoke. Kiku didn’t smoke often but Yoongi knew it was always when stress was at the highest point and she physically needed something to relax.

Yoongi stayed sat at the couch while Namjoon settled next to him with a beer. He didn’t say anything but it was a welcome to start explaining himself.

“I really don’t think I did anything,” Yoongi said. “I got high and I might’ve called her in.” It sounded so stupid and dumb but he kept wanting to explain as if it could somehow quell the true reality of his actions.

“Aside from it being a shitty thing to do, it wasn’t safe either, calling her to the hotel room.” Namjoon scratched his brow. “Without knowing who she was.”

“I know.” Yoongi kept his head lowered.

“And…what you said to Kiku today wasn’t okay.” His tone was grim and serious but Yoongi’s stubbornness chimed in.

“Come on, she’s said stuff too.”

“She didn’t cheat on you and then blame you for it,” Namjoon said blatantly like a quick slit to the throat. “Fighting is one thing, Yoongi. This is. . .”

Yoongi hated that Namjoon vocalised it. It was a passing comment that they could’ve so easily forgotten but here it was, landing on him like a thousand bricks. “I wasn’t blaming her.” His voice didn’t make it sound too convincing.

“You said she drove you crazy which is why—”

“—that’s not what I was saying, I was just angry.”

“You’re always angry, that’s why this is a shitshow.” Anger slowly laced Namjoon’s tone. “And you don’t even seem to care about apologizing to Kiku about it. It’s like some part of you thinks she deserved it.”

Yoongi stayed silent for a moment. There was no response because some horrible part of him did want to hurt Kiku and for the first time in a while, he felt himself coil at his own feelings no matter how brief they were. And what truly cut him was what Kiku must’ve known that was his intention. “Do you really think I’m that bad of a person?”

“You just proved my point by asking that first.”

Yoongi pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Alright…alright, I fucked up.” He let out a long sigh. “I’ll go talk to her.”

“Actually talk this time.”

“I got it.”

-

After a few moments of gathering whatever courage he had, Yoongi walked outside in the cold night air to see Kiku. Taehyung saw him before she did and reluctantly cleared his throat, walking away to give them privacy.

Kiku didn’t look at him immediately, taking another puff of smoke and letting it plume in front of her before her gaze finally reached him. Her eyes were glossed and red from crying. Taehyung had always been the better one at handling an influx of emotions but it still gave Yoongi a strange feeling, a yanking of his heart.

He didn’t know how to comfort her anymore. Even now, he couldn’t ask or say anything. In all the flurry and dance of arguments, Yoongi felt awkward starting a regular conversation.

So she spoke instead.

“I want to break up,” Kiku said. Her words hung in the air, turning it to lead.

If there were words forming in his head, Yoongi now had no strength to speak them, his hearing grew numb for longer than he could control.

She took another swig of her smoke. “It’s the best way to go. We’ll go back to being bandmates and we can put this fucking mess behind us.” Kiku kept her gaze away when she said this.

Yoongi stammered, still unable to speak.

“I know you don’t like these types of conversations so you don’t have to say anything,” Kiku tapped the cigarette on the side of the bench. “Just pretend nothing ever happened. It’s better that way.”

The panging got worse, making him feel as if he were bleeding from the chest. “You want to completely pretend this never happened?” Yoongi asked.

Kiku raised her shoulders. “Yeah. It’s all crumbs left anyway.” She let out another bitter chuckle, her eyes glossing more. “What’s the point? You don’t like me and I don’t want you anywhere near me right now. So we forget.”

Crumbs. Their relationship was crumbs. There was some part of him, drowned in whiskey and numbed by sleepless nights, that awoke for a moment as if to argue against it. The stubborn part of him wanted to keep those thoughts inside. Kiku loved being dramatic, she loved heavy emotions in her conversation. It could’ve just been a simple breakup, but she wanted it all gone.

Yoongi assumed it was just dramatics. He even almost laughed.

But Kiku didn’t laugh.

Yoongi happily wanted to accept her anger but she didn’t react at all.

Her expression showed exactly what she expected from this arrangement. Nothingness. Just back to the way it was.

It was smart, Yoongi would give that much. If he started fighting now, it would not only be hypocritical but it also proved her point that they were crumbs. Irreparable.

He tightened his jaw, mustering whatever was left of the courage he had spent gathering before coming here. Only to fall apart like a pathetic idiot as he always did. His smoking, his drinking, his anger and now his infidelity. Everything had piled so high and packed so tightly that there was no escape in admitting this was pointless.

Yoongi was who he was and Kiku would not tolerate it. So let it die.

“Alright,” Yoongi said through gritted teeth.

“Alright.” Kiku stamped her cigarette and walked back to the tour bus.

-

The Korean leg of the tour seemed to go smooth enough. Kiku and Yoongi performed and enjoyed themselves without fighting a single time. Yoongi drank, smoked and partied to his heart’s content as he always wanted, relishing in his newfound freedom without worrying about Kiku’s disappointed face.

They even laughed together for a second although it was from a joke told by Namjoon. Yoongi seemed to have held this moment in his mind a lot longer than he liked to.

Unfortunately, things frazzled as exhaustion began to settle. On their second night in Tokyo, they were a couple of added songs as a specialty. Two of them being songs that were written by Kiku and Yoongi together.

Even as the song was performed, a vivid and visceral memory replayed in Yoongi’s head like a knife through his skull. Kiku was swaying her legs while sitting on a washing machine as Yoongi cleaned up the last of their dirty clothes. Her humming so close that the screaming crowd numbed around him. All he could hear was her humming in the laundromat.

Yoongi tasted the blackberry tint on her lips when he kissed her, caging her while she sat on the washing machine. He saw her smile. She hadn’t smiled at him in so long. So long that this memory felt like a dream. Some unknown, impossible thing that could never be attained again.

When the show was finished, Yoongi was yanked back into reality where his tongue only tasted the bitter notes of tobacco and whiskey instead of her sweet blackberry tint.

They walked backstage, taking a breather before making way back into the tour bus. Kiku walked into the dressing room to clean up.

Yoongi walked in and started to smoke. For a few quiet moments, he only glanced at her redoing her lipstick with the ends of her hair still matted with sweat. Even when haggard, there was a beauty to her that forced him to keep looking. In a moment of weakness, he walked over to her, leaning in and nudged his nose into her hair.

“Stop it,” Kiku muttered in a soft tone.

“You remember that song, don’t you?” Yoongi asked in the same voice as if a bubble formed between them.

“What?”

“The songs we did together.”

Kiku didn’t reply, patting herself down with a cloth. “I remember.”

“You always couldn’t sleep until you got it right on that day.”

“We had deadlines,” Kiku said.

“Months away. I’d have to calm you down.” Yoongi reached his face down again, hovering over the crook of her neck. “You remember how I calmed you down?”

Kiku’s expression turned angry as she turned around. “That bitch you slept with remembers better than I do.”

Yoongi raised his head with a sigh. “I told you nothing happened.”

“Like you’d ever be sober enough to gauge anything,” Kiku said. “I told you to leave this be.”

“That doesn’t mean we need to forget the good stuff.”

“The good stuff was when you weren’t coming to me drunk and high every night,” Kiku argued. “This, whatever the hell you are now, isn’t that Yoongi.” She gestured to him with a grimace. “I remember and miss that Yoongi, not you.” She turned on her heel and tried to walk away.

Yoongi grabbed onto her arm. “I’m still the same person.”

“No, you’re not.” Her eyes began to gloss again. Despite all the confidence he had before, the vulnerability in her face was something he didn’t prepare for. It was too soft, too broken for him to even begin fixing it. “Three years ago, you would’ve kissed me without needing to do a line of cocaine. Back then, you wouldn’t have needed an ultimatum and a fucking mistress before saying one kind thing to me. You are not the same person.” Her voice cracked and the sheer sound of it clipped Yoongi’s tongue like a needle pushed through it. “I know exactly who I fell in love with and the reason you’re angry is because you don’t know who that is anymore.”

The door opened to Namjoon with a concerned expression. “Hey, let’s go.” His eyes flickered from Kiku to Yoongi but he didn’t say anything.

Kiku wasted no time before walking away, past Namjoon and to the tour bus.

-

They arrived in Kyoto but by this time, Yoongi felt itching under his skin, as if something was missing. Like a glass of water right in front of him while he was dying of thirst but he couldn’t quite reach it.

What made it worse now was that Kiku seemed to have a new air of energy here.

She went to an old music store with them where they met one of Kiku’s old friends, Botan. He was a bigger man, not quite muscular but generally broad like Namjoon, his dark hair was fluffy as if freshly washed. His eyes immediately softened when he saw Kiku.

Botan perked up in excitement and hugged her tightly, carrying her off the ground easily.

Yoongi held in a groan as he looked away.

“I thought you’d never come back here,” Botan said.

“We’re here on tour,” Kiku said, a little breathless. “How’s the store doing?”

Botan ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s been good, not bustling but good.” He smirked. “Your old records are still here too if you want them.”

“I’d like grab some too,” Taehyung said, grinning.

“Of course, please, look around.” Botan gestured.

Yoongi kept his eyes fixed on like a hawk as Kiku walked to the backroom with Botan while they joked and laughed.

“Stop sulking,” Namjoon said.

“I’m not sulking.”

“Yes, you are. This is the most calm we’ve been in ages, don’t ruin it.”

“Sorry, my relationship problems are causing you inconvenience.”

Namjoon glared. “I didn’t tell you to cheat on your girlfriend, dipshit.”

Yoongi sighed in frustration. “I need a smoke.” He walked out of the store and started on his cigarette. He looked through the window and saw the view through the open door of the backroom. He saw Kiku laughing with Botan so easily without the slightest bit of effort. There had been a time when they would laugh the same way but now even starting a proper conversation was hard. He looked away, his chest feeling congested and pained at the realization that he was losing something important.

-

The band sat together in a hotel room after their concert in Kyoto, the cool air soothing their tired muscles and heated skin. Taehyung was already drunk so Namjoon helped him back to his hotel room, leaving Kiku and Yoongi alone. A more sober Namjoon would’ve double checked if they could be alright alone but this time a tipsier Namjoon was ready to go back to his hotel room.

Kiku rested back on the couch as the hotel door closed while Yoongi blew a plume of smoke above him. He began to cough.

“Stop smoking for a bit,” Kiku said as she tried to take the cigarette away but Yoongi moved his hand away.

“Not my girlfriend anymore, don’t need to do this.” His voice rasped heavily, half-lidded eyes looking at her.

“Am I not your friend anymore either?” Kiku tilted her head.

This loosened Yoongi’s fingers as Kiku grabs it from him and taps it off the ashtray. She poured two glasses of water to drink.

They sat in silence like this for a while. Maybe it was a silent test for both of them to see if someone shouted or if a minor comment could turn into a long argument. But nothing really happened.

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi spoke gently into the silence.

“What?”

“I know it’s late and stupid but…I am sorry.” He looked at her, straight in her eyes. “I never meant to hurt you. Even when I wanted to, I never wanted to go along with it.” Yoongi then rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“It’s done. We don’t have to worry about it anymore.” Kiku leaned her chin on her knees.

“Are you sure?” Yoongi asked.

Kiku blinked slowly. “I don’t forgive you but we can put it behind us.”

“Good enough.” Yoongi smiled.

She bit down her bottom lip, curling her toes as she watched the slight movements of his own lips.

Yoongi leaned forward and pouring vodka into the water.

“The point was to get a bit more sober.”

“For what exactly?” Yoongi hovered the glass over his lips before seeing her expression.

Kiku tapped the side of her glass, lips slightly parted like the gilded doors of a pleasure garden. Her eyes soft and sweet.

Without a word, Yoongi put his glass away.

Kiku smirked and stood up from the couch, walking over to the bedroom.

Yoongi followed suit, locking the door behind him. He didn’t wait for Kiku to turn before he moved her around, kissing her, hot and sweet with a hint of vodka on her tongue. The third he’d been nursing for most of the tour now finally quenched as she pressed her close to him, relishing in her warm embrace of his cheeks.

He ripped the webs of her fishnet stockings, kneeling down and pushing aside her panties, kissing in between the lips of her cunt.

Kiku held onto his head, throwing her head back as she jerked her hips forward. She moved back and laid on the edge of the bed, spreading her legs. Yoongi ripped the fishnet stockings further, letting her legs hang over his shoulders before he devoured her cunt which was sodden with arousal.

Yoongi hummed against her clit, sucking on it with vigour and passion until pleasure thrummed from Kiku’s lower belly to her head. He licked a stripe up her clit, lapping his tongue as Kiku let out a shaking moan. He kissed each of her lips, using one of his fingers to get his fingers drenched, teasing her entrance.

He lifted and pushed his two fingers into her mouth soak them further. A hint of her arousal touched her tongue, making her mad with pleasure.

Yoongi slid the glistening fingers into her, curling up like muscle memory, knowing the places that made her back arch. He relished in her hands gently brushing through his hair and the taste of her in his mouth. He listened to the squelching of her cunt as Kiku desperately whimpered towards her pleasure.

He kissed the soft, sensitive skin between her lower belly and her core. His fingers curled up, brushing against her sweet spot until made her thighs tremble against him. Yoongi pressed another hot kiss atop her clit. Pulling his fingers out, he relished in the way she whimpered desperately.

Kiku lifted herself up, moving Yoongi to lay down on his back so she could straddle him. She pulled her black t-shirt off showcasing her lace bra.

Yoongi took his chance to caress her breasts, using the texture of the lace to erect her nipples.

She unbuttoned his pants, pulling out his cock and rubbing her wet cunt up the length. The corner of her lips curled in ecstasy before sliding herself down until she was full of him. Kiku hummed in delight, swaying her hips, not waiting as she got into a steady rhythm. Her fingers gripped the fabric of his shirt as Yoongi dug his nails into the sweet skin of her ass, still barely covered by her fishnet stockings.

The pleasure thrummed from her core to her toes, making her head dizzy. Kiku may have fought him and distanced herself from him but there was no denying that she missed this. His rough, passionate touch and the feeling of his cock shaping her insides according to her own rhythms. She loved it. She loved him but hated everything about him. It was a cruel feeling, but not one to have right now.

Yoongi’s moans grew ragged, messy as both their orgasms rolled to the edge.

Kiku threw her head back, moving faster and faster until the bed began to creak against pressure. She bounced up and down feeling him getting heavier as her own lower belly began to grow hot with frustration.

“I’m close,” Yoongi breathed out.

Kiku bit down her bottom lip, growing feverish with her pace. Her cunt squelched and ached as her orgasm finally exploded.

Yoongi jutted his hips up, shooting his warm release into her as Kiku’s own bliss ricocheted through her body.

Kiku cried out in pleasure, riding out their orgasms, letting the arousal spill all around them. She rested on his chest, leaned in and kissed him gently.

They didn’t say much to each other. No explanation, no clarification, just calm and bliss.

“Thailand tomorrow?” Yoongi asked.

“Yep.”

-

Their routine of fighting to silence had now turned to a ritualistic fucking session after each concert. Each interaction got more and more friendly, warm which led to a steamy night in the hotel room that left them both blurred in their own ecstasy.

Yoongi wanted to relish in this for as long as humanly possible. He really did. But the small, starving moral part of him knew this wasn’t a compromise that made Kiku truly happy. She was enjoying it and she was excited but even in his idiocy, he knew they weren’t happy like they used to be.

It was their final night in Hong Kong when lying in bed together, sweat sheening their skin. Kiku sat on the bed, sketching out some thoughts while her dark hair flowed down her back and a nightie haphazardly draped over her body.

“I know I’m not really the person to bring this up but…” Yoongi said, mostly looking at her back. “What are we doing?”

“We’re sitting after a fuck,” Kiku said, still facing her notepad.

“We’ve been doing nothing but fucking.”

“No, there’s talking and we’re getting along now.”

“Because we’re fucking.”

“It’s a good stress reliever.”

“You haven’t forgiven me.”

Kiku stopped sketching now, looking over her shoulder. “I told you I wouldn’t.”

Even though Yoongi expected her to say something like that, it still ached a little knowing that was still her view of him. It was stupid to think otherwise, Yoongi wouldn’t have forgiven anyone for cheating either but it still hurt. “So why do this?”

“Do you not want to do this?” She put her notepad away.

“I want to but—”

“But what?”

Yoongi sighed and sat up on the bed properly. “Look, this is fine but it’s not something you do. You don’t leave things blurred.”

“I have to,” she said. “I’m not getting back together with you and our tour’s been going so smoothly with this system.”

“So after the tour…what happens then?” It was a heavier question than Yoongi wanted it to be but Kiku seemed to think on it deeply.

“I’m going back to Kyoto and helping out Botan with the shop.” She played with the fabric of the hotel blanket. “We’re going to be taking a break anyway and I need some time to reflect.”

Yoongi did ask and he got an answer, but that didn’t change the fiery frustration in his chest. “With Botan.”

Kiku narrowed her gaze. “With Botan, yes, Yoongi. I love you but did you really think I was going to heal with you?”

Yoongi stammered, no argument left on his tongue. “You could’ve told me that.”

“You wouldn’t have cared. Maybe now but not then.” Kiku hugged her knees to her chest.

Yoongi could do nothing else but sit in silence again.

-

The tour ended sometime during the edge of autumn and Yoongi spent his holiday at a new café down the road of his apartment. Since his place was now emptied, he felt uncomfortable sitting there alone as opposed to looking like a lonely sob at his corner. Kiku had moved to Kyoto already.

Yoongi wanted it to be a calm morning but unfortunately, the waitress serving him turned out to be a familiar face. The girl he had brought into the hotel room. Her eyes widened when she recognized him but Yoongi could only stammered.

“You don’t remember me?” she asked with a nervous chuckle.

Yoongi furrowed his brows before shifting uncomfortably. “No, sorry, I know who you are.”

She smiled, serving him the black coffee he ordered. “Heard about your break. How’s it been?”

“Not great, I’m alone in a café and I feel like shit.” Yoongi chuckled,

“Well, if you need anything, let me know.”

“Actually…”

She turned to look at him again.

“This is gonna be a crappy question but…did anything happen between us?”

The girl blinked slowly.

“Like I remember you but I don’t…you know…” Yoongi gestured.

“Well, I remember us doing a few lines and drinking.” She played with her fingers. “You kept complaining about your bandmates and then you fell asleep.”

“We didn’t…”

“I mean, I think we both tried but were too wasted to do anything. So no.” She smiled nervously. "And no, I didn’t do anything while you were asleep.”

“Thanks.” Yoongi waved his hand and the girl turned on her heel to leave.

-

When Yoongi returned to his apartment, he should’ve gone straight to writing new songs on his guitar but his mind kept rushing to call Kiku. Telling her that nothing actually happened even though the girl did mention that they tried. It was bad but a selfish part of him so desperately wanted to grasp at the thread of hope that this could be revived somehow. Anything to bring light back to his place.

Yoongi opened his phone as he rested on the couch, his lit cigarette hanging off his fingers, dropping ashes on the ashtray next to the couch. He scrolled through his contacts but his courage hadn’t quite mustered.

Like a pathetic stalker, Yoongi began to scroll through Kiku’s socials instead. He found new pictures of her at the record store. She was glowing and smiling to her heart’s content like nothing worried her. If he called her right now, he knew that smile would disappear and it would be another pattern of the same shit.

Kiku had to heal and so did he in his own way.

For the first time, he wanted to take no interest in proving himself right. So he shut his phone off and put out his cigarette. 

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#yoongi #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fanfiction #bts imagines #yoongi imagines #bts x oc #yoongi x oc

[makemeimmortalwithahug]

I can't stop thinking about dead boy detectives and Emily Dickinson ever since I saw Edwin and Charles' relationship unfold, these two boys whose deaths were covered up and "did not matter," as Edwin put it, and who have kept running from Death together for thirty years and counting; these two boys who would do anything to stay together. And I can't get

"I'm Nobody! Who are you? Are you - Nobody - too? Then there's a pair of us! Don't tell! They'd advertise - you know!"

out of my mind. Edwin and Charles as EdwinandCharles, together against everything that might separate them, looking into the world of the living from the outside but glad to do it together. They keep to themselves because, as long as they have each other's backs, it's always going to turn out at least okay.

Edwin and Charles cannot picture a world - an afterlife - in which they might lose each other, this bond they share of trust, harmony and loyalty. Emily herself wrote to her love Susan that she (I'm paraphrasing) that she might as well lose any other world, but she wants to continue living in the one in which she's together with her love. It's this utter devotion that we see in Edwin and Charles.

But also imagine Edwin reading Emily Dickinson's poems. I am not entirely sure when her poems might have been available in England, but I know that "I measure every Grief I meet" was first published in 1896.

I imagine him reading this poem during his time in school. He read it only once because this is the most he could bear, too real for him back then. He had suffered even before he went to Hell. He was bullied. His classmates would isolate him and cause him pain - they were the reason he eventually died, after all -, installed fear in him. The environment of the boarding school didn't give him any opportunity of respite, he couldn't get away and I doubt his parents would've been much of a help, if they had cared at all.

So, I imagine him quietly suffering, closing himself off because no-one seemingly cared enough to get to know him. Him barely talking, rather listening and watching what is going on around him, questioning whether everyone felt that way, so hollow and invisible at the same time, as if one wrong look would either go right through him or break him.

I measure every Grief I meet With narrow, probing, Eyes - I wonder if It weighs like Mine - Or has an Easier size. I wonder if They bore it long - Or did it just begin - I could not tell the Date of Mine - It feels so old a pain -

He has always felt this way, an ache he would tell himself he could barely feel anymore. Maybe he wondered as well how other people do it, living with a weight that drags you down and keeps you down, this dry sorrow that no tears flow anymore.

I wonder if it hurts to live - And if They have to try - And whether - could They choose between - It would not be - to die -

The encounter between Despair and Edwin is the reason why I thought of this poem in the first place. There are different kinds of grief, and despair is one of them, maybe that's why she might call upon Edwin someday.

There's Grief of Want - and Grief of Cold - A sort they call "Despair" -

Mostly I wonder what he would've thought, reading the last two lines:

Still fascinated to presume That Some - are like My Own -

Would he have been fascinated or would he have thought how unbelievably tragic this was? What would he think reading this after he met Charles? After he saw Simon again in Hell? Would it make him feel calm to see this written or sad?

No matter what it would be, I think him finding his way out of Hell (twice!) and Charles by his side have shown him that this pain does not define him, that there is always hope. And

“Hope” is the thing with feathers -

after all.

quoted:

"I'm Nobody! Who are you?" by Emily Dickinson

"I measure every Grief I meet" by Emily Dickinson

"'Hope' is the thing with feathers" by Emily Dickinson

#dead boy detectives #edwin payne #charles rowland #payneland #edwin paine #painland #chedwin #edwin x charles #poetry #emily dickinson #hell #dead boy detectives spoilers #dbda #dead boy detective agency

[bitethedevil]

Living with The Devil You Know (Raphael x Tav): Chapter 7

Chapter: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven

Read this fic on AO3 (Link)

Fic Summary: Tav broke their agreement by handing the Crown of Karsus to Mystra instead of Raphael. Not only that, but she also robbed his house and killed his incubus. Raphael is patient and he is determined to get his revenge.

…Tav isn't too bothered. She will figure something out eventually. Until then she just has to find a way to live peacefully with a devil.

Chapter Summary: Tav learns some surprising things about Raphael's past and drunkenly confesses her thoughts and feelings to him. Meanwhile, her friends pay her house a visit to find the Orphic Hammer.

AN: Raphael's little lovestory is taken directly from my one chapter fic called "Portrait of a Cambion" which goes into depth with my slightly depressing headcanon about his past lovelife. It's not necessary to read to understand anything going on it this fic, but you might find some interesting similarities between his former love interest in that fic and our dear Tav (In my head that fic is like a prelude to his obsession in this one)

Tav had been trapped in her own mind since Raphael had left and it was not a nice place to be. She had spent the majority of her life in her own company before the whole tadpole business, and still, she had never felt quite so alone as she did now.

She spent the day sitting in bed, thinking. Thinking about her situation, the last couple of days, Raphael’s reaction earlier in the day, the things Korrilla had said, the crushing thought of the possibility that she might not be able to escape, and the even more crushing thought that a small part of her did not really want to escape…

There were a lot of thoughts and a lot of anxiety to catch up on now that she finally had a moment of solitude to take all of it in. It was suffocating her. It came as a blessing when Raphael returned home and granted her a distraction from it.

She found him in his human form, sitting on a sofa with a stack of papers in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. As soon as he saw her enter, he snapped the papers out of existence and looked up at her with a smile.

“There you are,” he purred and gestured to the spot beside him. “Please, sit with me.”

She sat down. He poured her a glass of wine and handed it to her.

“Did you enjoy your little moment of peace?” he asked.

She sipped the wine with an empty stare, still caught up in her thoughts until she realized he had asked her a question.

“Yes, sure,” she answered quietly. “It was nice...”

Raphael gave her a smile that told her he knew she was lying, but he decided not to push it.

“It was not my intention to scare you so much earlier,” he said instead.

Tav blinked and then glared at him.

“I thought you once said that you never lie,” Tav challenged.

Raphael chuckled at that.

“There is that brave woman I know again,” he said and sipped his wine. “I am not lying. Yes, I did, of course, intend to remind you that there are rules in this house. I would be lying if I said that I did not enjoy seeing you rattled and that I did not use your fear to my advantage. However, I did not expect it to have the effect that it had. Korrilla told me you were almost inconsolable…”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Tav answered coldly.

“Hm,” Raphael hummed. “Suit yourself.”

His arm was resting over the backrest of the sofa, and he brushed his fingers gently through the ends of her hair. She swept her hair over her shoulder and away from him. His eyes narrowed slightly at the gesture.

“How was your day?” Tav asked to distract him from it.

“Uneventful,” he said and took a sip of his wine. “Aside from the obvious, that is.”

They small-talked for a while. Each time Tav had finished her glass of wine, Raphael would pour her a new one. Tav knew that he was trying to get her guard down, but she found that she did not care.

It was nice to just drink and forget about all the things that had haunted her throughout the day, and she found that it also made it easier for her to talk more freely with him. She noticed by the time she was well tipsy that Raphael barely seemed changed at all.

“Can you even get drunk?” Tav asked with curiosity.

“I can,” Raphael answered. “Though it would take quite a lot of wine to achieve the level you are currently at.”

He gave her a teasing smile.

“How much?” Tav asked, squinting at him with a smile.

“I could go through a quarter of my wine cellar before you would see me starting to slur and stumble about,” he answered.

“That sounds like a challenge,” Tav said.

“Planning to get me drunk, are you?” Raphael said with a laugh. “I’m afraid that I have outgrown that sort of thing. One does such foolish things when under the influence. You of all people should know that. It’s how you ended up here.”

“To be fair, I can’t imagine it’s that common of a thing to wake up in chains and half-naked in a devil’s house after a night out,” Tav said and took another sip of her wine.

“I think you’d be surprised…” Raphael purred with a suggestive smile, before turning the conversation towards another topic. “I am curious about something, if you would indulge me…What was it that drew you to going home with Cassius back then?”

Tav sighed quietly. She might have been tipsy, but she still noticed how odd he seemed to still be about her trying to protect Cassius from his punishment. She also knew that if she pointed out her suspicions about him being jealous, it would only achieve pissing him off.

“Honestly?” Tav said. “I was drunk and missed having some company, I suppose. It really wasn’t much deeper than that.”

“Hm,” he hummed and looked at her. “Is that something you have done a lot of? Blindly following strangers home to sleep with them?”

“Occasionally,” Tav answered with a shrug. “Just to…you know, sate urges and all that.”

Raphael’s smile widened.

“There has been no regular partners or sweethearts, that could help you sate those urges?” he asked.

“No,” she answered. “I never really dabbled in all of that…”

“Oh?” Raphael said. He seemed surprised by her answer. “Do you expect me to believe that someone whose favorite book is one of the most popular love stories of this age, has never been in love?”

“Not really. Perhaps when I was younger,” she answered with a shrug and swirled the wine around in her glass. “I’ve preferred my own company for the most of my life.”

Until now, she almost said, but stopped herself. Raphael did not need to know that his attempt of isolating her was working wonders. She wanted to change the topic away from her.

“What about you?” she asked. It almost sounded like a joke rather than a serious question because she felt like she already knew the answer. “Have you ever loved someone?”

Raphael raised an eyebrow at the question.

“Once. Many years ago,” Raphael answered coldly, though there was an edge of bitterness hidden in his words. “A mistake I certainly learned from…”

Tav could not hide the look of surprise on her face. He looked like he was serious.

“I thought devils didn’t—"

“They don’t,” Raphael interrupted and smiled. “Not in any way you would understand at least. Our definition of love is quite different from what you mortals would find ideal or even healthy.”

Tav was still a bit dumbfounded. She was just looking at him with a puzzled expression, holding her empty wine glass.

“Does that surprise you?” Raphael asked and gently took the empty glass from her to pour her more wine.

Tav blinked slightly and returned to reality.

“It does…” she mumbled. “Can I…ask you about it or is it a sore subject?”

“Oh please, don’t take me for some soft-hearted mortal, dear,” Raphael said with slight offense, though he was still smiling. “Ask your questions.”

He handed her back the now full wineglass. She looked down at its contents while she was thinking.

“Was he or she a devil too?”

“No,” Raphael answered, surprising her even more. “She was a mortal woman. A human…like yourself.”

The tone of the ‘like yourself’ comment gave her butterflies in her stomach, and she was quick to snuff out the feeling as soon as she felt it.

“Who was she?” Tav asked.

“She was a potential client in the beginning. A painter that had managed to anger the mercenary government of the city she resided in. She achieved this by plastering posters around the city that critiqued the leadership. Needless to say, they wanted her dead and like the savior I am, I of course offered to lend her a hand with getting safely out of the city.”

“So, she gave you her soul, right?” Tav asked.

Raphael made a short laughing sound.

“She all but spat in my face, the stubborn wench. She told me that she would take her chances. To my great annoyance, she did survive and fled to her father’s home far away from the city. However, that did not deter me from still trying to present a deal to her. She might have fled, but the city’s mercenaries would not forget her so easily.”

“Did you succeed?” Tav asked. “Did she give in eventually?”

“She did not, though she grew to like me. She taught me how to paint, as a compensation for the time I wasted on her. I suppose, I grew to admire her during those sessions…She fascinated me and my time with her became a welcome refugee from my endless duties to my father at the time…She really was a remarkable painter as well. She made some of the paintings you see on my walls.”

He just kept surprising her.

“You kept some of her paintings?” Tav asked.

“I did,” Raphael answered.

“I don’t mean to be rude but…I would never have thought of you as sentimental like that,” Tav said quietly.

“I don’t keep them out of sentimentality,” he was quick to say. “I keep them as a reminder of what happens when one gets distracted with pointless pursuits such as matters of the heart.”

“Well…” Tav said. “What happened?”

“As I said, I got distracted and my dear father noticed. I still lived in Cania, you see. The privilege of having lovers or consorts is only reserved for Archdevils. My father saw it as me getting distracted from my purpose of gaining more souls for him, and as me overreaching my station. He put an end to it.”

Tav looked at him. He seemed so cold and nonchalant while telling her this, but she felt that she could see a glimmer of something behind those brown eyes of his.

“He killed her?” Tav asked quietly.

Raphael was quiet for a moment too long. He was staring emptily at the floor as if he was reliving it.

“Not quite,” he said. “He made a warlock of his reveal her whereabouts to the mercenaries hunting her. I found the corpses of her and her father the next time I visited…I burned the house down with them in it…”

“I’m sorry,” Tav said quietly before even thinking.

He looked up at her and narrowed his eyes.

“Feeling sorry for people who have knowingly made the mistakes that landed them in their despair is a useless pursuit, little mouse,” he said darkly. “I never should have let myself feel what I did or at the very least I should have known the consequences and taken the necessary precautions to keep her safe…I was too young and too naïve…”

Raphael sighed and they were both quiet for a moment. Tav was not sure what to say. She was oddly touched by his story.  

Raphael looked at her, seemingly taking in her features with an expression that was hard to read. He reached over and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and this time she did not move away from his touch.

She opened her mouth to say something but changed her mind and closed it. The alcohol made her want to talk about subjects that she knew sober-her would regret. Raphael noticed her little gesture and smiled at her.

“What is it, dear?”

“Nothing,” she said and shook her head. “I’m drunk.”

“You are,” Raphael purred. “The things you and I have done, and you are still too shy to speak freely with me.”

Tav opened her mouth again and then closed it again before she decided on saying what she wanted to.

“It’s just…” Tav said and sighed. “You are so infuriatingly confusing.”

Raphael chuckled.

“Am I?” he asked. “How so?”

Then the floodgates opened and Tav started rambling.

“You tell me that the whole reason for all of this is to eventually kill all of my friends and then me. Then, you have very angry revenge sex with me. Then you almost kill me, but you save me, and you are really weirdly nice about my scars. Then, we have sex again, but this time it’s not angry, it’s oddly tender and sweet…”

Raphael’s smile was widening the more she started rambling.

“And you mess with my head by gifting me my favorite book and you don’t even mention it, even though it was a really sweet gesture. Then today you don’t brutally torture me for doing something I’m not supposed to, but you were however, once again, being weird about the fact that I did not want another person to get brutally tortured. And now you tell me this incredibly devastating story about how you lost someone you loved…”

Tav sighed in frustration as she was finishing her drunken rant.

“I mean what the fuck?” she mumbled to herself.

Raphael opened his mouth to say something, but Tav decided that she was indeed not finished rambling.

“No and you know what? It makes me feel so stupid and confused because I cannot figure out what is going on. I should be hating you but instead I found myself missing you today and you-…you are fucking doing it on purpose!” Tav said with a bit of anger and pointed at his smug face accusingly. “I know you are! You are trying to manipulate me, and I’m aware that you are, but I still find myself liking you! I know you are playing me like fiddle, but I still find myself wanting to be near you. Wanting your attention. Wanting you to kiss me on the mouth instead of just on my neck and all those little stupid little things that you tease me with to make me like you! I—”

“Do you want me to?” Raphael asked calmly with an amused smile, looking at her lips.

“To what?” Tav asked, annoyed at getting interrupted in her drunken rant.

“Kiss you,” he said and leaned in slightly closer.

“Oh, and now you’re just trying to shut me up and not even address—”

He interrupted her by pulling her into a kiss and she felt her heart beating ten times faster. She melted into him, despite herself. Her fingers tangled in his hair, like his were in hers. It was a hungry and passionate kiss. It felt as if they had both been waiting a long time for it.

All her worries seemed to melt away for a moment as she got lost in him.

Astarion sighed tiredly and leaned up against a wall while he watched Gale work at trying to remove the magical protection on Tav’s house. Gale had a look of pure concentration on his face while he tried to figure out what kind of warding magic was guarding her house.

“Gods, you look silly waving your arms about like that,” Astarion commented. “I could never be a wizard.”

Gale ignored him. Astarion sighed dramatically at the lack of reaction from him.

“What is taking you so long?” Astarion asked impatiently. “And what is she even trying to protect in there? Her dusty old books?”

“Some of those ‘dusty old books’ are very rare and very precious tomes, and many wizards would love to get their hands on some of them, which is why this is taking so long,” Gale said, frustrated with Astarion’s impatience. “She has taken all precautions to keep them safe.”

Astarion looked at him with a tired expression.

“Why is it even necessary that I am here if it’s all guarded by magic?” Astarion asked.

“Because I suspect the lock will be protected somehow. A simple Knock spell probably won’t work on it. It has to be lockpicked, which most likely will not be an easy task for you either,” Gale said. “As I said, she has taken all precautions.”

Astarion started pacing around in circles behind Gale.

“This seems like an awful lot of work to put into retrieving a hammer that we cannot even bring to her,” Astarion said.

“It’s not about bringing it to her,” Gale explained while squinting at the glowing magic on the door. “It’s about making sure we have it and that it is safe. If she is wearing the same constructs as Prince Orpheus, then that hammer is her only way out of Raphael’s claws. We should keep it close, just in case.”

“It seems perfectly safe where it is, given that we cannot even get to it!” Astarion said with a hand gesture that accidentally knocked over a potted plant that was placed on a pillar beside the door.

Gale winced at the sound of it crashing to the ground but did not move his eyes away from what he was doing.

Astarion looked down at the broken flowerpot and dirt that was now sprawled on the ground. He saw something in the dirt and leaned down to pick it up.

“Move,” Astarion said and moved in front of Gale.

“What are you—?”

Astarion placed the key he had found into the keyhole of the door. It made the lock glow and the door unlocked.

“She didn’t take all precautions it seems,” Astarion said with a smile and walked inside.

Gale huffed and followed. He used a spell to light up the candles she had around her house.

Once light fell over the living room, the both of them stared at the shelf where they had seen the Orphic Hammer on the other few times they had visited her.

Astarion pointed to the empty shelf and then looked at Gale with a furrowed brow.

“That seems…not good…” Astarion said.

Gale made a sharp inhale and tried to calm himself.

“Perhaps she has simply redecorated,” Gale said, sounding like he did not even believe in that himself. “We need to search through every corner of her house. It has to be here.”

Their kissing session had unsurprisingly made them end up in Raphael’s bed. They had sex and it had once again felt oddly loving and sweet.

Tav was resting against Raphael’s chest with his arms around her. He placed a kiss on the top of her head. She felt so comfortable. Her drunkenness made her overthink the situation less for once and she felt so content.

She had butterflies in her stomach from it all. She could worry about the reality of it all tomorrow. Tonight, she wanted to pretend that everything was fine and just enjoy his sweet attentions.

She tightened the grip of the arm she had around his waist, pulling him closer and nuzzling her head against his chest. It earned her a satisfied groan that almost sounded like a purr from him. She felt him burying his nose in her hair, inhaling deeply, and taking in her scent before leaving another kiss.

“You should sleep, dearest,” he purred against the top of her head.

That was a new one, Tav thought. He had never called her anything other than ‘dear’ or ‘mouse’. ‘Dearest’ made her heart beat slightly faster again.

“Mm,” she mumbled and traced her fingers over his stomach. “In a little while. I’m not in any rush to feel the headache I’m going to have tomorrow.”

He began massaging her scalp with his hand. It felt like heaven.

She kept lazily tracing patterns on his stomach until she suddenly heard Gale’s frantic voice in her mind.

“The hammer is gone. We searched your entire house, and it’s gone, Tav. We won’t stop looking, but we cannot find it.”

She froze.

“Something wrong?” Raphael asked softly. She could have sworn she felt him smile against the side of her head.

Cassius was the first suspect to spring to mind. He had motive to steal the hammer from her house, but he would never have succeeded entering with his very limited knowledge of magic. No. That was not it.

The uncomfortable truth clicked in her mind. Raphael had not made a fuss about her contacting her friends and he had very suddenly had a change of heart about her being guarded day and night. When he was teaching her to play the organ, he had seemed so happy for some reason and something he said echoed in her mind:

‘I closed a deal that has been quite the headache for me and successfully retrieved something of mine.’

Her heart started beating faster again, but now out of anxiety instead of infatuation. She was suddenly very sober. He had made a deal with someone with enough magical knowledge to break into her house and remove her only chance at escape.

She tried to slow her breathing and act calm.

“No no…” she mumbled. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“You know,” Raphael said and placed another soft kiss on the top of her head. “It is quite easy to know when someone is receiving a sending spell…”

Her blood ran cold.

“People have a tendency to stop breathing, when they are listening intently, you see,” he said. “And given the way your heart is pounding, I take it your dear friends visited your house and came out empty-handed…am I wrong?”

She did not answer, which made Raphael chuckle and whisper in her ear:

“Are the puzzle pieces starting to come together, love?”

#raphael bg3 #raphael the cambion #bg3 raphael #raphael x tav #raphael bg3 fic #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction

[lolqiqi]

GN! Reader x YANDERE! King of hearts

Warnings:Implied kidnapping.Implied death(unmajor).The usual for yans(obviously). Possible use of y/n!/you.I (tried) to make this based of the queen of hearts buttt male.

--

Authors note:I finally got inspo back. I'll probably redo the yan god later this week (hopefully) because it was ✨rushed✨. This is more like a ramble, I'll probably edit the yan god to be more of a ramble as well.

You were just trying the town's humble baker, sure most of the town's folk said you were to pretty to be just that baker in town, but you didn't think much of it.

You were just baking at your usual shift at your family's bakery, when out of nowhere one of the king's servants walked in. They were accompanied by one or two guards and had a worried look, no terrified look on their face.

💌:Excuse me, the king demands a cake, and if you will make it themed after roses.Don't make it too basic either, me or you both wouldn't want to see your chopped off

After to hearing this you immediately go to work, it was harder then usual since your parents had to go get ingredients out of town.It took you about 4 hours to finish the cake, it hopefully not being to basic. Right on time too, because the servant just walked in.

💌:Is the cake finished? *You nod your head* Thank goodness! You don't how much of a help this will be!

He snapps his fingers and a few guards come take the cake

💌:While I must thank you for your hard work, the King must taste the cake first before he decides to save it for later. And if my King doesn't like it, you mostly likely will get you head chopped off

He walks off, before you could possibly ask him anything. He never told you you could get your damn head cut off! But about tenish so minutes later you hear yelling

👑:'WHO MADE THIS?! I need you of you pathetic excuses of guards to bring the baker who made this to me now! Or I'll have ALL OF YOUR HEADS CUT OFF!'

He was loud enough so you could hear it from down the street. You panicked thinking that the king hated your cake and you'll be executed. Before you could move however, the king's guards came into the front door of your bakery and took you away.

The king looked..more harmless then you thought, for someone who never saw him before. He tilted his head when he saw you, eyes narrowing.

👑:You absolute buffoons! I told you to bring me the baker, not some noble! OFF WITH YOUR-

You interrupt him

'Your highness, I am the baker. Please don't kill them, I took over for my parents today.'

👑:I..I..my apologies. You don't look like a baker, you like a noble to me. EHM..Anyways before my knights interrupted me, I found your cake delightful, delishous even. My bakers I have at my castle or useless compared too you, so chop chop pack your things. You're coming with me, you've now been assigned to be my baker, no if's and's or but's pack your things and let's go rose.

You are in disbelief and quickly try and tell him that your parents will be worried when they come back. You explain how you'd have to take over the business one-day as well.

👑:Don't defy your king. I'll take care of those old mutts. Might as well make a show of it as well, it'd be the most perfect execution for rose's parnets. Besides why would you need that old shop of yours if you have me..rose? Now.. I'd rather not lose my temper so let's go I have duties with other kingdoms to attend too.

With a snap his guards drag you along into a extra carriage he brought, with a few others bringing what appears to be your things in the trunk. You hear a horse whine and your carriage starts moving.

There's no escape for now after all..who'd want to deny the lovey king of hearts?

Extra notes:I kinda want to design him as a Tsundere type yan that turns into *big* simp for you when you get to know him.

(Anyways thanks for reading! Consider liking if you enjoyed)

#yandere x gn reader #yandere x darling #yandere x male reader #yandere x female reader #yandere x gender neutral reader #yandere king #yandere