#Have a stupendous day <3 <3 <3 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

daze4all · 1 month

Text

Honkai Star Rail Imagine: 7 days a week of Yandere! Sugar Daddy's x Darling! Reader

You never intended to be involved with 7 men. You were just trying to make a living doing odd jobs. Whatever you could take, and they just wanted to take whatever you could offer them. Even if it was just that day…although they often forgot you weren’t just theirs to hold…

Maid for Hire! Reader x Dr. Ratio, Aventurine, Blade,

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday

Next Set: Dan Heng, Sunday, Argenti, Jing Yuan TBA

Inspired by Seven Jung Kook) 'Seven (feat. Latto)'

Part 1: 1st Meeting, Domestic , Doting and Dating Second Part on smut to come...

Sugar Daddy 1. Dr. Ratio

Monday – Teacher! Ratio x Housekeeper/ Student! Reader

Monday starts off the week with lessons from Dr Ratio in return for chores and reward for being such a good student …

Domestic Life with Ratio hired as Housekeeper

Dr. Ratio had hired you on as housekeeper to clean his house, lab, and his library. For such a scholar his house got surprisingly messy. hH was constantly poring over scroll and forgotten tomes.

Dr Ratio was so invested in his studies that sometimes he even forgot to eat. SO it was your job to cook and prepares meal balanced on tray while he evaluated your cooking “

“Seven out ten. The taste is good, but the presentation is lacking. Try Harder next time” Ratio would say with barely a glance your way. Unknowing he was watching you over his book secretly.

Even on days that Dr. Ratio proclaimed the food you prepared was “urgh disgusting. One out of ten.” He would eat it without another complaint. Simply saying “Add more salt next time” while studying his books intently. Or “ I suppose it will do “No effort should be wasted”

Under his critique, your food did get better as did your cleaning skills as he detailed precisely how he wanted his old books preserved and cleaned carefully. It was detailed work to but satisfying when praised by Dr. Ratio for a “10 out 10”

2. Ratio Decides to Teach when he sees you Reading instead of Cleaning

You never had such an extensive education as the old novels in his library could provide. While cleaning the shelves you couldn’t help taking a peek. Soon you found yourself cross legged on floor drawn into the world of words before you knew it the duster forgotten.

Ratio stumbled upon you like this. The light hitting your face. He traced your face an open book as you ohhed and ahed at each twist and turn in the story.

He smiled wryly amused when you mouthed new words stumbling over the production. One word you messed up so badly he interrupted “It is stupendous?

Startled you snapped the book closer apologies spilling from you plushi lips “ I’ll get right back to work sir”

No Need in fact…how about you be my test subject student and Shall I teach you” Dr. Ratio had commanded and so your lessons with Dr. Ratio began.

3. Dr. Ratio Teaches You a Lesson in Attraction

Teaching was his joy and passion though he was so smart, and you could only marvel at his genius in silence when he rambled random theories to you.

Often he just wanted you as a sounding board “ A measure of what ignoramus, I may have to teach and pound sense into their brain.” he commented to you

After all, He firmly believed that “No matter how ignorant a pupil can soon be a peer once taught”

As embarrassment and desire burning through you as the very handsome man hovered over your shoulder to correct you.

“ No its like this let me show you” Dr Ratio without preamble would smoothly directed your shaking hands to write the right word. “Why are you shaking?”

His genius mind immediately deduced your attraction to him when you started behavior oddly around him.

After all, he wasn’t unaware of your fervent glances at him. your gaze lingering on his chest hip and lips with flushed blush.

After all he wasn’t unaware your fervent glances at him. your gaze lingering on his chests hip and lips with flushed blush.

He too watched you.

At first simply to observe as he couldn’t help but admire the beauty of the human body similar to the bust, he wore.

It was inevitable that working in close quarters and learning each other habits that you crossed the line…as he took so much pleasure in teaching and punishing you .

Then idly while teaching or reading he would follow the lines of your face to the back of your neck sloped over your study book.

“Perhaps a carrot and stick method would be a better lesson plan” Dr. Ratio would muse as you struggled through the practice books as he settled you once on his lap. His breaths in your ear and you blushed conscious of his closeness.

Tuesday- Escort! Reader x Sugar Daddy! Aventurine

Tuesday – Aventurine

With Aventurine you were the most casual and comfortable. He was businessman and knew a steal of deal when he saw it and he had to have you for day.

A gamble for charity he raised the stakes so high and won you for a date as the highest winning bet for the night. Dates that continued every Tuesday from then on.

Flirty banter was common for you two and soon you had charmed each other. His double hued hypnotic eyes and devil may care attitude and charisma easing as you stepped off the stage “Hello, friend happy to have such a lovely lady for the evening”

His false flirty lines promised this was just another business deal and a game to him. A friend you would fuck from time to time for fun. However he kept making than that.

His tasks ranged from keeping his penthouse tidy, to being his dress up doll, to keeping him entertained.

When he was tired. A domestic day of cooking dinner and fixing his bath. Other times there would be surprise present in the houses.

Often scandalous lingerie and slips for his eyes alone to greet him. Sometimes elegant costly gowns to wear out to a business party’s as his plus one. If not it was a party dress sparkly and skintight and showing skin only he could touch.

would be perched on his knee or crushed by his side at a casino or stately business dinner .

“My Lucky charm~” Aventurine would sing to his clients as he rolled the dice for yet another winning deal flashing a smile and pressing a kiss to the pulse of your neck.

Despite his flippant and teasing nature, he promised when going to sleazy parties “Don’t worry I’ll protect you. No one will dare mess with me here”

Aventurine was almost always a night owl keeping you up for partying or for pleasure in his bedroom. Despite intimately knowing your deal as a creditor he was the most possessive and took advantage of it the most.

Wednesday – Blade- Sex to Soothe the Mara & Memories

First Meeting with Blade: Kafka sets you guy’s Up

A good guy was too sweet for you it hurt but a bad boy was what you deserved and could turn the pain into pleasure.

It was simple with Blade. Lay back and let him break you. You did help clean up the base from time to time as a housekeeper. However, the role was simple to help Blade burn off some steam. Rough and possessive the most dangerous customer by far.

It had been like that since the first day you met him but funny enough unlike the other men he didn’t seek you out.

The idea wasn’t his. A gorgeous lady with a spider like coat weaved a web to capture the flower and delivered you to the beast called Blade. Honesty from her initial description you though he was cat you were cat sitting at first or you might to have taken the job.

“Help me, help take the edge off and distract him for bit will you dear?” She directed in a sweet tone. Sticky sweet and dangerous as honeyed poison.

“What the hell is this” demanded Blade seeing you a stranger all dolled up like a a bright flower in his bedroom. Weak and fragile and sure to break if he touched it.

“A present, Blade. So you stop hurting yourself during practice and occupy yourself with more pleasurable activites, have fun. Live a little!~” Kafka cooed as she pushed you into Blade’s room and locked the door to trap you both

Meeting his burning eyes you gulped nervously. This was one customer perhaps you shouldn’t have accepted, but the web was to addicting to squirm free.

Once he had a taste, he’d hunt you down you were sure of it, if you ever stopped. It was hard enough keeping him from consuming you whole during his sessions.

Side note Poly!Reader Background might be….:

-A maid for hire just looking to clean a house but get caught up with yandere men wanting her for more services that may or may not be implied on the site that she may or may not know about

Could also be Sugar Baby/Polymarous/Host/Rent a girlfriend/Housekeeper/Escort! Reader

- Seeking out the strongest men to renew your dying race as you were known to have very low birth rates

- Doing this to pay back a debt she has from her fallen planet.

- Possibly cursed by the Propagation or a Aeon of Lust Luxuria to constantly hunger for sex to live?

-Nymphomaniac or a person who just like sex with many men and that’s her lifestyle so why not make money off it lol

- Reader is a Succubus maybe and craves and needs many men’s seed for their male life Essence to live and cannot take from one too often or he dies from having too much

Inspired by the Genshin Version written by liljojo genshin sugar daddies

605 notes · View notes

sakuraoora · 1 year

Note

hello!! I'm new to Tumblr in general, so I apologize if I say anything wrong or are kinda awkward😭 could you do the anemo Boys with an s/o who faints a lot due to a medical condition? Sorry if that sounds weird, I have pots 😞 again I'm so sorry if i said anything wrong or if it was awkward!!<3

of course anon!! don't feel bad. i'm honored that you chose to interact with me! i didn't include aether because i consider him to be this other catagory though i mean we know he'll probably be able to use all of the elements in the future

WARNINGS. reader passing out, fluff, worried anemo boys

SHIPS. kazuha, scaramouche/wanderer, venti, xiao, heizou x reader (seperate)

ANEMO BOYS WITH A S/O THAT FAINTS A LOT

Kazuha.

You were climbing a mountain to Kazuha’s favorite location with him, when you blacked out. Regular black outs were nothing to be scared of for you, because they came with a medical condition you had. In addition to black outs, you also had low stamina.

You awoke suddenly to your boyfriend sleeping next to you, his arms acting as a pillow as he slept beside you. You smiled down at him, and shifted yourself to be facing his sleeping form, accidentally waking him up.

“Oh goodness…” he groggily said, his voice deeper due to just waking up. “It happened again… you’re lucky we weren’t climbing the steep portion yet or you would’ve been dead,” Kazuha said, his melodic voice relaxing you. “I think overexertion was the cause this time… hah, I should be more careful next time.”

You laughed and cupped his face in your hands, your foreheads meeting. “It’s fine. You did the right thing, bringing me back. How long have I been knocked out for?”

Kazuha grumbled, his warm hands cupping your cheeks as well. “Roughly half a day. You scared me, you know.”

“Half a day… a new record. Last time it was only an hour or so.”

“That isn’t an accomplishment to be proud of, dove.” Kazuha replied, his brows creasing as he gently pushed you away. “I know your cognition isn’t something life threatening, but what if you go to sleep and don’t wake up?”

“I know. I’m sorry for worrying you so much,” you replied, leaning your head back to stare at the ceiling, your arms supporting your sitting body.

“As long as I’m here… you don’t need to worry about a thing, dove.”

Venti

You might’ve been knocked out and fainted often due to your medical condition, but Venti would unintentionally take names that were several hours long. After all, the anemo archon had slept for hundreds of years in the past, leaving Mondstadt to do whatever the city pleased.

It might have escaped your mind to tell Venti that you were going to try to climb the windrise tree… so when you reached a stable branch, you were glad you accomplished the climb before passing out on the branch, slipping into unconsciousness as the gentle wind you fell in love with slowly brushed across your face, the rustling of leaves the only noise you could hear other than your own breathing.

Venti frantically looked for you. You had been gone for hours, and basically disappeared. He called upon the wind spirits, and he heard the sound of your breathing somewhere nearby one of his statues. He rushed over, and found where you were, perched on a tree comfortably, passed out.

He took a deep sigh, and giggled. “My windblume really thought it would be a stupendous great idea to climb that tree, hm? Well, I didn’t fall in love with them because they were easy to handle.”

Venti floated up and rested beside you, and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, gently kissing your forehead, took you into his arms and fell asleep beside you, cuddling you.

“I love you, windblume.”

Scaramouche // Wanderer.

Naturally, being your boyfriend and realizing you have a condition which makes you tired made him overprotective. He’d gone through so much, he always looked at you with warmth and concern.

But he’d floated away as he consumed his creator’s gnosis and lost all of his memories. He was constantly with Nahida, but she let you see him. And although he didn’t remember almost anything about his past, Scaramouche could only remember warm and comforting feelings when he was with you, as well as a bit of nervousness. He didn’t remember your condition.

He still remembered you with love, though, and you still were together.

So when you fainted in the middle of the street, he was filled with pure terror.

Everyone in Sumeru city stared as the false god they all worked to defeat with no memories of his past crimes gently picked you up and rushed you to a doctor.

4 hours.

He waited for 4, nervous hours filled with terror even as you lay passed out on the doctor’s bed. He rested his hand gently on yours. Did you even realize how much his heart throbbed as you lay unconscious?

So when you finally woke up, rubbing your eyes groggily as you sat up, Scaramouche grabbed your shoulders, head collapsing as he broke down into a chorus of sobbing.

You told him of your condition, and he wiped his teary eyes, and reprimanded you. “Don’t you dare ever do that again. My heart can’t take it.”

Xiao.

Xiao almost never slept. He hadn’t slept since his Yaksha friends died. And honestly? When Xiao visited you in the middle of the night, he admired your calm, peaceful sleeping face, illuminated by the silver glow of the moonlight. Whenever he neared you, he could feel the karmic debt lessening, and that was enough for him.

He heard of your condition already from you, and made you promise that you’d always call his name whenever you felt like you would pass out, or if you ever felt like you were in danger.

You were walking through a field of unbloomed glaze lilies, and you began to hum softly, triggering the glaze lilies to bloom. You heard a mitachurl with his group of hilichurls come close, and you drew your weapon, ready to fight.

You’d say, all in all, it was going pretty well. Until, of course, you drained too much energy and was about to pass out as the mitachurl swung his ax at you. So you softly called out his name, and the last thing you saw was Xiao appearing in a flash of anemo energy and anemo butterflies.

Xiao really didn’t see the need for you to strain yourself so much. The mitachurl was near death, and he saw the spoils of hilichurls surrounding the place with open glaze lilies that brought him back to a time when a certain mother-like figure used to sit amongst the delicate glaze lilies and hum a small lullaby that helped him drift him to sleep.

Now, as he carried your unconscious body to Wangshu Inn, he hummed that same tune that he loved so much for you.

Wherever and whenever you call my name, I’ll be here. Xiao silently vowed, slowly placing your unconscious body into your bed, tucking you in.

Heizou.

The number one Tenryou Commission detective was down bad for you. That was a known fact. Another known fact is that he spent way too much time solving insignificant cases dealing with dogs and had WAY too little time for his loved ones than he would’ve wanted.

His favorite guilty pastime? When you fainted and he could watch as you slowly woke up, with a familiar cocky smile plastered on his face as he asked for praise for getting you back safely and sticking by your side. And you always delivered.

But when you blackout when he wasn’t there… well, he panicked. Think, REALLY, REALLY panicked. The moment Kujou Sara walked in and said that you were found unconscious on the street. Whatever cases he had on hand were immediately discarded as he sprinted on to your shared home, where you were, resting.

Don’t expect to wake up to his usual damned smirk, but to eyes rimmed with eyebags from crying and sleep deprivation, petty anger welling as he starts telling you that you should never faint again without him nearby (he’s not really mad at you. He’s mostly mad at himself, because Heizou can’t bring himself to be mad at you for more than two minutes at a time).

“I know you were worried, Heizou.”

“Shut up and don’t do it again you big idiot.”

REBLOGS HELP MORE THAN LIKES!

2K notes · View notes

kentomilk · 5 months

Text

ᴺᴬᴺᴬᴹᴵ ᴷᴱᴺᵀᴼ ᴵᴺ

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐈𝐓'𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄 ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

it seems there is never an activity too lackluster or intimate for this couple to find pleasure in each other's company with their busy lives.

husband!nanami kento x wife fem!reader.

catalogue. fluff, slice of life content, non-sorcery au/ non-curse, modern au, salaryman!kento, sick & soft kento, (1) mentions of praise kink. wc: 1.95k thea’s preamble. inspired by this incredible art, i must admit i look at this at least once a day. → ✨ also this is my first published work, it's a bit rough but hopefully with time it gets better. thank u for reading <3

kento is a man of routine and order, we all knew that. he wakes up at a set time, kisses his beautiful sleeping wife, carries out his morning routine of showering and oral hygiene, dons his best suit, light breakfast, and is out the door by 8 AM. the evenings he returns home aren’t any less lax, whether he’s home at 6 PM on the dot or late by a few hours, he’ll always greet and kiss his beautiful wife, have dinner in his study whilst he continues more work while the lovely missus reads on the chaise or continues unfinished work of her own as well, then shower and oral hygiene, sleep.

perhaps that was an oversimplification, but don’t be fooled one may think the man adopts and follows this lifestyle out of a need for security, financial or otherwise. or that he loves the unrelenting and perpetual cycle of working painstakingly 10-hour days, he certainly isn’t given highly-coveted tasks for being a slacker. he’s grateful for what the occupation provides, the salary and bonus that come with his overtime, to lavishly spoil his family, but that's all.

he has no ambition to climb the ladders that will put him in places he doesn't care to be, to rub elbows and kiss ass with scummy executives, leeches, and conceited thugs, only to trash talk and scheme against the moment he steps foot in his home.

all he asks is for saturdays and sundays, as they happen to be Kento’s favourite.

the days he has off from his draining 9-to-5, to be spent properly with his lovely wife. who was ever so patient with him, ever so supportive, and ever so his to love and cherish so as long as his body would allow him. even if his body was battered down to a pulp, he’d find alternatives as necessary, but let’s hope it never comes to that.

there would be times when not much would differ from the previous weekend, and well into the next, spent doing the same activities, or nothing at all. he never wanted to take for granted the time you spent together, and sometimes that meant not always making the most of those days, and he’s okay with that.

whether the two of you lazed in bed until the afternoon or spent a whole day cooking a feast completely from scratch, starters to dessert. visiting the farmers market to cook said feast, reading in your cozy home library, or even the sudden bouts of spring cleaning.

there is always a welcome invite for spontaneity, a picnic under the stupendous aspen tree you simply adored at the local park. a quick overnight trip to a scenic and quaint town, whether your destination is reached by train, plane, automobile, or even boat. the occasional painting date has become a more frequent activity as of late. but there is one “special” activity that some might consider, unique. one that is relatively low cost, that is done from the comforts of your humble abode, that further advances the intimacy (according to kento), and is reserved solely for you, one that kento absolutely adored, shaving.

usually, it was something he’d done alone after showers with either a rechargeable or disposable razor or by his barber when it came time for his bi-monthly hair trim. but recently it became a task that you’d undertake by kento’s request, sort of.

while you didn’t mind what would grow from a days of not shaving, he preferred maintaining a clean shave for the clean-cut classification for a man of his occupation, it also became supplemental to his hygiene routine that he grew to love.

it wasn’t something you saw often, kento so dishevelled with the most tragic undereye bags from the lack of sleep from what you’d think was months suffering from insomnia, condensed into a few days. a coarse stubble emerged from the days he’d spent in bed, and his nose was flushed with how often he’d been blowing it with the nearly empty box of tissues that was full just the night before. his eyes were dull and watering, a sight you truly hated.

"honey, have you seen my hard drive?" he'd sorely asked for the 3rd time today, "it's in the laptop, kento." you called back, changing the towels in your bathroom.

he was delirious, with a runny nose and little to no comprehension of where he was or what day it was, thanks to the combination of flu medicine and kento’s determination to finish a work proposal whilst in bed, common sense would also call it overworking. despite your gentle commands that he needed rest, there was no triumph on your end, as duty calls. he was relentless, in his defense there was a conference that was meant to be held in person had it not been for his sudden ailment. though a live video conference was able to be arranged, owing to the urgency of the matter at hand.

so you figured the fastest way to get the man back into bed was to help him complete this ordeal swiftly, that meant helping him in the shower, given his sore muscle ached. applying small dots of concealer under his eyes as to not bring attention to his fatigued face, deterring from the presentation at hand.

dressing him in his warmest wool suit, but only the upper half, kento was sound enough to know there was no need to abandon his fleecy Pompompurin pajama pants. the executives were only to see from the shoulders up after all. and lastly ridding him of a heavy five o'clock shadow that was speckled with smears of dried rice from the porridge you had made him earlier.

“ok, that should be enough,” you whispered, carefully taking off the damp towel that no longer retained warmth, and squeezing out the shaving cream from the canister into your hand.

you proceed to spread the milky foam in a thin layer across the lower half of his face, letting out a soft chuckle at the finished outcome. you picked up the brand-new razor from the counter, puffing your cheeks and letting out a deep breath.

“i trust you.” kento whispered, his voice scratchy and hushed.

you smiled in response, quietly informing him that you were starting. you crouched to his eye level, pulling his cheek upward with one hand, so the skin where you would shave would be taut. you intently watched his face as well as the area that you had just removed facial hair, making sure that there were no nicks or alter in his relaxed expression, verging on sleep. once you gained confirmation of such, you proceeded to shave the next row, and the next, working inwards towards his lips.

rinsing the razor after each use, and wiping on a towel you had draped on the counter. though nerve-wracking for a first try, it had been executed well and was quite therapeutic. your eyes were attentive and your hands steady with every down stroke. as you continued to rinse and repeat, literally, you looked up into the bathroom mirror to see your husband rotating his head to view the work that had been done, then looking straight at you with a simple grin and tired eyes, asking what he thought so far.

“you’re doing so good, my love.” he plainly states, but those watery eyes said otherwise with an innuendo you couldn’t miss, in a singular eyebrow raise. stupid praise kink, you thought, looking him up and down, wondering how even in this state, where he acquired the audacity. it wasn’t long until the two of you burst into a fit of laughter, kento being cautious as to not rub off the shaving cream with one hand that covered his eyes as he leaned back in the chair.

“what even are you.” you snickered, quickly calming yourself with the reminder of the razor in your hand.

you proceeded to shave, on the brink of completion, now focusing above his lip, where you took even more caution than you had before, due to the sensitivity of his skin in that area. opting to sit on his lap, nearly chest-to-chest with his sore arms that maintained enough strength to have a secure hold on you, even though your knees were bent, and your feet touched the heated floor effortlessly.

a few stolen kisses on kento’s behalf, and nothing more than a restrained smile that he was fighting from getting any bigger as you finished the last few strokes. in his mind, it was anticipated that the minute kento finally got better, you were going to contract what he had afterward anyway. and in turn, he’d take care of you.

so what's the harm in a few more kisses?

“so my dear husband, how would you like to start our weekend?” you asked, still cozily tucked under the blankets, looking at your husband who was similarly bundled under the toasty blankets, with your hand situated on top of his, placed gently on your cheek.

“well dear wife, it’s been days since i’ve last shaved.” he simpered, looking down at you with sly eyes.

it was something the both of you saw coming, once again he hadn’t been shaving for a while, but of course, it was deliberate. you softly laugh in response with your voice still heavy in slumber, “i’ll go get the facial steamer— in a few minutes, i want to savor every second of this vacation.” further burrowing yourself into his chest.

it had been a few months since the first time you had to shave kento’s while he was recovering, the proposal went flawlessly if you omit the booming sneezes that startled the executives even through the screen.

you had since made the switch to a straight blade like the ones you’d see used in old school barber shops, watching tutorials on methods exercised by professionals for efficiency and safety.

invested in a proper kit that supplied everything you’d need. from shave oil, pre-shave oil, shave cream, a velvety brush to spread the lather, after-shave (which smelled phenomenal), and blade replacements.

it’s been even longer since his barber last gave him a proper shave after a haircut, and that time will only continue to be prolonged. he loved how close you’d be when focusing, but time after time you’d only grown to relax the tension in your muscles. you’d sit on his lap for more of the session, and those sessions would only go longer from the last.

where there would be conversation taking place about your lives, now and the future. sometimes there would be easy-listening music playing from the speakers that would lay the cornerstones of an “impromptu” dancing session, where kento’s hands would be politely placed on your lower back, and his hand strong in yours, waltzing all around your bathroom for what felt like forever.

he was shirtless, and truth be told a little chilly, and you were wearing an old shirt of his, to him you always looked beautiful. even though there was still plenty of shaving cream on his face, it would eventually be smeared on yours. there wasn’t much more he wanted in life.

if you ask him, any weekend is well-spent, even if you do spend the entirety of it in bed, painting beautiful sceneries, cooking your favourite dishes, dancing with ardour despite having taken one class on ballroom waltz, or you shaving his grown-out stubble. as long as you're by his side, nothing is ever a waste of time. that’s how it’s been, that’s how is it, and that’s how it’ll be.

and who knows, maybe next time kento will convince you to cut his hair.

[interactions] reblogs, comments & likes are appreciated ₊˚⊹♡

#[🎠] — .thea’s chronicles #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #nanami fluff #kento fluff #kento x reader #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #kento nanami x reader #jjk x fem!reader #nanami x fem!reader #kento x fem!reader #nanami kento x fem!reader #kento nanami x fem!reader #kento x you #nanami x you

327 notes · View notes

littlxpxtal · 2 months

Text

Little Dove | Chapter 1

You sat in the fitting room, picking at your fingers, legs bobbing up and down waiting for Tigris to bring out the dress she hand sewn for the ceremony.

“Ta-da!” she announced pleased with herself as she wheeled the gown out on a mannequin carved to your measurements.

You gasped in awe. It was a deep red with a provocative sweetheart neckline. The length was past the floor, sprawling out. A good excuse to use the new platform heels you bought a few weeks ago.

Immediately undressing, Tigris helped you step into the dress, fitting perfectly to your curves as always. The fabric was a soft crushed velvet, lined with a slippery satin that made it comfortable to move around in.

“You’ve outdone yourself this time, Tigris”

“It was nothing! All I could think about was you on that stage wearing it.”

You blushed and kissed her cheek.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” you exclaimed. “Do you think he will like it?”

“He’s already seen it.” she winked. You stared at her quizzically.

“And?”

“He wanted me to raise the neckline. I told him I would but”

“But you didnt” you laughed

“He just doesn’t get it. He’ll forgive me someday”

You watched yourself in the mirror, heart starting to race at the thought of actually winning this award.

She showed you the different hairstyles and accessories she envisioned with her dress and you let her do her magic, saying yes to almost everything she proposed due to excitement and the inability to actually think straight from the nervousness.

You were against 3 other candidates, 2 from the gamemaker committee and one from the presidents cabinet. You constantly ridiculed your mind with doubts, these other people had far more important jobs and positions in Panem. Plus you were the only female nominee.

“Why are you so quiet all of a sudden?” She asked as she removed the last necklace option.

“Do you really think I can win?”

Her face immediately crossed at your silly inquiry.

“Are you joking? No women in Panem has had the balls to do what you’ve done. You’ve gone out of your way to get these billionaires to donate to your campaign. You went to the districts personally to see the televisions installed. You designed the campaign ads yourself and gave dozens of speeches infronts of hundreds of people to support your initiative. You did all of that ideating and creating by yourself and made it happen. None of those other losers came close to the amount of work you put in this year to make a name for yourself. If you lose this award to one of them I’ll make their wives lives hell.”

You looked down and smiled at her outburst, grabbing her hand over your shoulder and squeezing it.

“I couldn’t do this without you.”

There was a knock at the door

“Miss Y/L/N, your driver is here.” One of Tigris’s assistants announced through the door.

“That’s my cue” you said standing up preparing to have Tigris unzip the dress off of you.

“Tell Coriolanus I said hello.” she said flatly.

It was the day of the awards ceremony and you woke up to an empty bed. Coryo had mentioned he had some duties to attend before the ceremony, but you were not expecting to him to leave so early. You hadn’t been very vocal about your anxiety surrounding the event that night, in fact you rarely spoke about it with him.

It was only spoken about once during dinner with some of Coriolanus’s old peers that he would occasionally have over. Keeping them in good spirits in case he needed their support down the road.

“So did Y/N tell you about her nomination?” Clemensia asked across the table at Coriolanus, sitting at the head of the table.

His eyebrow quirked up.

“Nomination for what?”

“Innovator of the year!” She cheered, tipping her wine glass at you. You politely dabbed your mouth from the spoonful of soup you just swallowed. A blush creeping up your neck to your face you sat as still as possible, not moving your eyes away from Clemmie.

“I nominated her.” Festus chimed in. “The work shes done at the firm has been stupendous” He added.

You finally gained the courage to look over at your boyfriend and his jaw was clenched. The room was silent before he forced a smile.

“That’s lovely, congratulations Y/N” you smiled softly back at him and placed a hand over his. He didnt move, or acknowledge the touch, he kept his forced smile and used his other hand to raise his glass.

“To Y/N”

“TO Y/N” Everyone exclaimed.

It was previously planned before the dinner that you would be staying at Coryo’s that night, but after dinner you wished there had been a car waiting to take you home. The silence in the apartment after the guests left was suffocating. The clinks of glasses and dishes as you and Coryo cleaned up the table were the only sounds to be heard.

You were wiping the counter as he starting to losen his tie and uncuff his links.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this award?” He asked with no emotion.

Without turning to face him you sighed.

“It’s not really that big of a deal, it’s just a nomination. I doubt I’ll even get it.”

He huffed and walked over, standing inches infront of you.

“Tell me about it.” He looked hard at you, furrowing his brows, eyes piercing into yours.

“It’s one of the newer ones they’ve come up with for this years ceremony before the reapings begin. Its a way to celebrate everyone who’s played a part, they’re making them bigger and bigger every year.”

“Yes I know about this ceremony, we’re invited to it and I’ve gone every year since University. I’m asking you about your nomination and how you qualified.”

“I was nominated for Innovator of the year -” he interrupted “By Festus Creed” stating annoyed. He walked over to the fridge to get a glass of water.

“Well yes, I didn’t ask him to, if thats what your thinking.” He let out a dark laugh.

“No thats not what im thinking. Im thinking he did it to get under my skin. He’s always trying to find ways to undermine me, he probably knew I wasnt nominated for anything.” He sat the cup down forcefully.

That’s when you realized this anger was not from you not telling him, perhaps he even knew. He didn’t seem surprised when it was announced at dinner, he seemed annoyed if anything. The attention turning from him hosting his guests to them toasting to you. He was jealous.

“I was nominated for my implementation of the Hunger Games being televised in the homes of every district resident, and my hardwork at campaigning to get people to advertise and put money behind the games.” You simply stated. Turning to finish wiping off the counter and walking to the sink to rinse your hands.

“I don’t think I’m even going to win Coriolanus.” you sighed wiping your hands on a towel. “Im against 3 other strong candidates who have done much more important and serious jobs than this. Plus I’m a woman, there has never been a female winner in any of the categories since the beginning of the games and these ceremonies. In all honesty, I think it was Festus who was trying to get under my skin and humiliate me infront of all of Panem. For me to think I even have a chance to have my name on a screen among those who have a bigger legacy in the history of our country. I just made some flyers and put up some TVs in the districts.” Tears brimmed your eyes at the reality of it all. The shame you felt from getting your hopes up.

You heard his footsteps creep behind you, quickly wiping your tears before he could see how pathetically emotional you were getting over this. He touched the back of your arm and kissed the top of your head.

“You’re going to win.” He stated plainly, then left the room.

An Avox brought breakfast to your bedside as requested. Unable to get most of it down, you slowly sipped the tea as you flicked through the TV, finally settling on a kids cartoon just to have some background noise as you tried to calm your nerves before having to start tonights preparations.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I can’t believe you made me come here” Tigris whispered, annoyed.

“I’m sorry he wanted us to arrive together and I couldn’t convince him to get ready at my apartment.” you shrugged.

Tigris and her crew of makeup artists got to work, putting heat on your hair and moisturizing your face.

The sun was beginning to set, and you had about a full bottle of champagne down the hatch by the time they were done. Slipping on the gold strappy platform heels you’ve been daydreaming about, you walked over to the full body mirror Coryo had hanging in the guest bedroom.

“WOW” you exclaimed. “I can’t believe you made me this pretty”

Tigris shushed you with her hands and picked up the train of your dress to lay around you, as designed. She handed you the box of the final necklace that was decided upon before whisking her assistants and tools away.

“See you at the ceremony Y/N” she cheered before shutting the door.

Taking the next few minutes of silence to admire yourself in the mirror, you were so absorbed in your own beauty that you didn’t even hear the door open, or his footsteps walking toward you.

Only until you heard his voice did you notice his presence.

“Need some help with that?” He motioned towards the jewlery box set on the stand by the mirror.

You nodded your head excitedly and he opened it, smirking at the large piece of jewlery.

You eyed the exquisite gold necklace, lined with small diamonds around the base.

“Tigris has a taste for the extravagant doesn’t she” you laughed sheepishly, not remembering it being an option she provided during your last visit.

“I actually picked this one out.” he whispered in your ear. He motioned for you to lift your hair, and he placed it gently against your collarbones, fingers tracing lightly around your neck as he clasped it.

You turned to face him, your nerves easing looking into his familiar eyes. “Thank you, I love it.”

He placed a small kiss on your cheek, avoiding the lipgloss that was applied a few moments before the team left.

“The car is here” he said standing back up straight and eyeing himself in the mirror, making sure he was in check for the event. Sweeping a hand over the side of his hair to calm a strayaway that had popped out.

“Coryo I’m nervous” you squeaked out.

He didn’t react, still staring at himself in the mirror to make sure all was put together.

“Don’t be love, you’re going to win.”

His eyes flickered over to you for a second before placing a hand on your waist.

“C’mon now, don’t work yourself up over this. Let’s just have a good time.”

Coryo wasn’t always the best at comforting your ailments, but tonight he was being particularly insensitive. Now no longer nervous, but frustrated you huffed, grabbing your purse and pulling up the train of your own dress to the car. Fiddling with your idle hands again, since he wasnt holding them, burrowing into deep thought of the morbid embarrassment you feel if you didn’t win. How sad it would be for Coriolanus to be seen with someone who was a loser. Your throat tightened, letting out a sob you had been holding the whole car ride.

“Pull over.” he demanded to the driver.

“Dove, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t think I can do this, I can’t bare to humiliate you like this. Can we please go home and forget this. If anyone should be winning anything its you. Im so silly to think-”

“I need you to listen to me right now. You will not humiliate me, you should be proud of yourself for being nominated. Its an honor, one that you have rightfully been nominated for. You wouldn’t be here if there werent people behind those doors who didnt believe that. Please pull yourself together, for me?” He held your hand, fingers tracing the side of your face as you stared into his eyes, searching for more. You wanted him to be proud of you, to be more open. About anything.

“Okay.” you whispered. “I’m ready”

“Go on.” Coryo instructed the driver. He held onto your hand until the car came to a stop again infornt of the parade of photographers outside of the building. He released your hand to step out, waving the cameras away so he could come around to your side of the car. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and flashes blinding you slightly, making you forget where you were, what you were there for and what you were wearing. Immediately becoming self conscious, you gave a small smile to the cameras before grabbing Coryo’s hand to lift yourself from the car seat.

After regaining your composure, you put on the performance you usually gave to those outside of your close circle, a radiating confidence that had people swooning at the sight. You gave a smirk at the cameras before leaning over to give Coryo a kiss on the cheek. He rolled his eyes, only slight enough for you to see. The camera men cheered, begging for more.

This was what originally attracted Coriolanus to you. Your confidence and way with people. You couldn manipulate people with your smile, sarcasm and humour. People would fight for your attention in conversation, dying for you to hear what they have to say. You were such a people person it made him sick. You were also better at networking than him, which would make his blood boil if you took it too far.

Your flirtatious manners have gotten you into trouble a few times with him. Taking just a little too far for his liking, but he could never stay mad at you, since he knew it was all an act. All a performance. Behind closed doors your were doubtful, over thinking every interaction you had. An intense anxiety over every decision you made. On the outside you were so sure of yourself. But on the inside you were always second guessing and frightened.

That was the difference between you two.

As for Coriolanus, his confidence outside was just an expression of how he felt inside. He was more sure of himself than anyone you had ever met, which is what attracted you to him.

Together you were a force to be reckoned with.

He let you have your time with the cameras, letting them get shots of all angles of your dress and accessories.

“Who designed your outfit this evening Y/N”

“Tigris Snow of course, who else?” You smiled brightly, placing your hands on your hips and winking at the camera man the question had been asked from.

“But this necklace is from my lover, Coriolanus.” You gesture over to the man standing to the side. The cameras began to flash and point at him. They began shouting questions at him, except they weren’t the normal questions he’s usually asked at these events.

Like what new laws hes proposing, or when he will run for president.

No.

Tonight they were all questions about you.

You tried reading his face to see what he was thinking, but just like you, Coryo put on an act for the cameras.

“Do you think Y/N is going to win Innovator of the year?” One shouted.

Unable to read his expression as you guys strode up the stairs, him holding onto your train for you this time, he stops and turns to look over his shoulder

“Hell yes she is.”

53 notes · View notes

p-antomime · 2 years

Text

House Of Cards.

𖦹 minors don’t interact. ┊ wc: 8K.

𖦹 content: service dom!satoru, soft dom!toji, unprotected sex, breeding!kink, power imbalance, jealousy (both from gojo & toji), mfm, cum play, undertones of love triangle, overstimulation, hair pulling.

𖦹 pairings: prince!satoru gojō x princess!fem!reader x duke!fushiguro toji.

ᥫ᭡. this is for Regalità & Magia Collab!; collab by my lovely @1900-aria ! <3 thank you so much for letting me join the collab & i love you aria!

Looking from afar was good enough, it was necessary and sufficient. Even if it wasn't that far away, they were closer today with their swords clashing so hard they seemed to whirl through their bodies and the grass of the training field getting thinner and thinner because of their footsteps. The two of them looked like forces of nature, deadly and yet graceful and stupendous. Or maybe they were just trying hard to look better than they actually were because they had an illustrious girl watching them intently, lost in the very thoughts she had been trying to push away for a long time and not realizing that the more seconds that passed, the later she got to her piano lesson.

You leaned forward, resting arms on the window frame and your eyes still fixed on the way Toji and Satoru, both wearing little more than just two wool sweaters that didn't match the luxurious attire they usually wore during the day and night and pants that seemed to squeeze their thighs too much, swirled around each other with two swords that required more than physical strength to lift.

Everyone who didn't know them might think that they were actually trying to hurt each other, even if it was only a superficial scratch on the cheek or shoulder. But knowing that there was a peace treaty between the two separate kingdoms, you preferred to believe that they were only taking that training more seriously out of sheer whim and pride. And it was comical how skillfully the two of them wielded those swords, because, as far as you know, they would never even step on a war field since there were two whole armies to do it.

It had become a small tradition to watch them from afar, a secret tradition that almost embarrassed you. Embarrassed not because you looked like you were drooling while watching them, but because of the way you felt every time those training sessions were over. It was beautiful to watch them, indeed, but more than that: it was thought-provoking; the way Toji's muscles flexed as he wielded and brandished his gleaming sword capable of cutting the air, the subtle way the thin fabric of the pants around his thighs seemed to be suffocating the skin, the way the shiny sweat trickled down Satoru's collarbones and went beyond the limit set by his wool shirt, the way his long fingers touched and played with the handle of his melee weapon.

In the end, you ended up with the heart racing faster than theirs, and no physical exertion was to blame. It was exhausting to have to live the rest of the day trying to act normal while the middle of your legs seemed to concentrate all the blood in your body and throb just thinking about the scenes played by the two of them, even with the help of a small diary where you wrote down your own sinful thoughts that you lacked the courage to shed light on and...

“Y/N?! Miss?!”

A voice snapped between your thoughts and you unwittingly jumped away from near the window as if you had been an accessory to a crime, your hands closed the curtains and heart seemed to try to leap out of the mouth as you turned to the door to see who it was.

“What are you doing here?! Don't you have class today?!”

Oh, it was Maki. With a fuming face and panting breath, she had probably run all over the palace after you.

“I—,” you started to speak, your eyes scanning the entire place for something that would provide you with a good enough excuse to calm the servant down a bit, “I got too distracted... reading...”

But there were no books in the room. At least, not now, the ones that were present before were taken to the library again by Nobara earlier that same day. However, Maki was in no position to either question you or accuse you of anything, so a sigh came out of her mouth and she slowly calmed down, both hands massaging her temples.

“I understand... anyway, Milady...,” she seemed to be weighing her own words before she huffed and walked over to the door to open it again, “I don't think your piano teacher will be resentful to hear that your tardiness came about because of something as noble as gaining knowledge from a book, right?”

A smile of relief appeared on your lips. In the end, she was always the one to save you when you couldn't, and shouldn't, get into trouble, no matter who was on the other side of the chessboard of the court of the kingdom run by the Gojo family.

It was like that at the court commanded by the Zen'in, why shouldn't it be like that now? Now that you and Toji, in order to make peace endure, had been sent to the kingdom which, a few years earlier, was at war with your own.

In reality, Toji, as a duke, understood that this maneuver by the Zen'in was an attempt to get rid of the headache he is, they were in fact hoping that someone in the Gojo’s Court would be willing to simply eliminate him; whether by poison, or by some crime he had not committed. However, that became impractical when your parents asked you to go along to “get better manners like a princess should have” and meanwhile you were told it would be a “vacation” trip.

And if it was a vacation, Maki had to be along; it was a personal rule of yours. Without her, you wouldn't go, and it was the worst 4hrs of Toji's life to have to put up with you gabbing with Maki all the way through between the Zen'in realm and the Gojo’s.

“Have you had enough, Gojo-kun?”

Toji's tone was easy, it seemed to have been carried by the wind to the ears of the light-haired, blue-eyed man, who opened a sideways smile and raised a questioning eyebrow before looking over his shoulder. Satoru didn't think his fellow foreigner knew that he was trying to see from afar if you were still at the window, but in fact he was, and very well.

“Don't call me 'Gojo-kun', you should be using 'Gojo-sama', Toji-chan,” Satoru replied, and soon after, turned to face Toji, who was now taking the liberty of sitting on the grass-covered ground and enjoying the sun falling across that part of the kingdom.

“Yeah, whatever, Gojo-kun, do you also have these preferences with your favorite visitor?”

This time, Gojo's eyebrow arched in confusion before his head fell to the side. And Toji raised his suggestively before amending, "Every time we're training here, you look over there looking for her, did you think I didn't notice?"

“Oh...,” Satoru forced a cough before dropping his own sword on the ground and running his hands through his hair, “Quite the opposite, I know you noticed and I admit that sometimes it was the intention, but in answer to your question: I have no preferences with girls, only with...,” his head waved in Toji's direction, “That there you call yourself.”

Fushiguro placed a hand over his heart as if to appear that it is hurting and Gojo opened a sideways smile.

“If I may advise you a little, Your Majesty, if I were you, I wouldn't try to impress her too much, I doubt she has any interest in you,” and what was once a sideways smile turned into a face of irritation.

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Look at you, Gojo-kun, tryin' so hard to be seen by her, it's almost laughable,” Toji replied and let his body fall backwards until he was lying on the grass with eyes fixed on the clouds slowly passing by, "You're looking like a court jester, not a prince.”

“Shut your goofy ass up, Toji-chan, or I'll send you to the dungeon again like last week,” Gojo retorted before sitting down across from him and again looking out the window where you should still be, but the only thing left was the vague memory of your silhouette behind the doorframe.

Deep down, Satoru knew that Toji was partially right. It was indeed laughable to see him trying so hard to get your attention when he, as your fellow courtmate in the Zen'in realm, could accomplish this without any effort at all.

Sometimes Gojo even felt jealous of the jade-eyed brunette, and then he remembered that he was nothing more than a guest in that kingdom, and he laughed to himself that if he wanted to get rid of Toji and leave you in isolation he would only have to click a few little political buttons. But the idea of isolating you at court didn't appeal to the young prince because it meant making you even more closed off to him than you already were.

And when he thought about the situation, it seemed that his house of playing cards crumbled like sand when hit by ocean water. Ocean water that, unlike his apprehensive eyes at that moment, was calm and patient.

“Does she talk about me to you?”

The question came out of Gojo before he could stop himself, Toji held back to glare at the prince and weigh his response options in silence.

“You think I'm her gossip partner?”

“No, but other than that green-haired servant you're the only person she has here, in this kingdom,” Satoru replied, “So by some very basic reasoning that even you can do, it's kind of obvious that she’d talk to you more than...,” he was going to add ‘me’, “Anyone else.”

A mocking chuckle escaped Toji's lips before he sat back down and crossed his arms, “Between a girl and a man, she’ll always choose to talk to a girl, even an idiot like you can come to that conclusion, Gojo.”

After that, the two of them were silent... until Satoru realized that Toji had not answered the original question and spoke, “You didn't answer, Toji.”

“No,” Gojo noted that the negative answer was to the original question, “But since you asked me something, can I ask you something else back? To make us even, obviously,” Toji said and Satoru nodded, “Why her? You could have anyone, I guess.”

That was the question that frustrated Gojo the most. Both as a prince and as a person. Because he knew the answer, but he didn't even want to admit it to himself, let alone to Toji.

The truth was that you were a refreshing novelty in the middle of pages of life already memorized by Satoru Gojo. He knew almost nothing about you. What was your favorite color? What was your favorite food? Did you prefer cats, dogs or rabbits as pets? Did you prefer citrus or sweet scents? Gojo didn't have the answer to any of these questions and many others, but he wanted to, so badly that it was frustrating to know that you almost never gave him a good enough opening to exchange more than four or five words with you.

“I think it's time for me to go take a shower.”

Gojo interrupted his own thoughts before already preparing to retreat into the palace again, and Toji tried to grab his trouser bar, but his hand was kicked away and his arm, pushed away with the blunt end of the prince’s sword blade.

“You didn't even—”

“I never said I would, Toji-chan!”, was the last thing Satoru said before retreating almost desperately and, after some incredibly long and fast strides, reaching the interior of the palace without even knowing right whether to go to his own room or...

His eyes went all the way down the hall, finding your bedroom, his heart skipped a beat.

Or wait for you in your room. He was just dying for a chance to talk to you, and besides, it wouldn't hurt, would it? At most you would be scared and ask him to leave your room, but it was worth it to at least try to get a crumb of your attention.

Gojo slowly turned in the direction of where the door to your room was hidden and entered to look around for details in the decoration that had been placed by you, but little had changed, there was very little of your personality imprinted on those walls — it was not such a good surprise for him.

The place, as always, was beautiful, completely tidy, and always fit for a princess, but Satoru had long ago convinced himself that you would be more comfortable sleeping with him, in his bed, smelling his scent emanating from the pillows and sheets every morning, and with his hands lazily holding you around your waist.

He walked a bit, still looking around and feeling his nostrils being impregnated by the cologne you had always worn since your arrival. And then, suddenly, his eyes fell on your pillow, which didn't look starched. In fact, it looked too high, as if the mattress had some lump in the wood that caused that unevenness.

“Hm?” Gojo forced his eyes; maybe his mind was imagining things, “Did Maki forget to tidy the bed?”, the question was to himself as he approached the bed and touched the pillow, pressing two fingers over where the elevation was highest.

And then he realized that there was something solid below it.

Gojo's frown creased slowly, one hand sneaked under the pillow, and his fingertips reached for a hard cover, full of reliefs that formed designs in spirals, but which, Satoru realized as he pulled the journal out, formed no actual design.

Why would you keep a book under your pillow?

Gojo looked at the front and back cover, it didn't seem to be an unsuitable journal, in fact: it didn't even have a name. It just looked very worn, old, but not necessarily beat up.

Slowly it was opened, and the reading of two short lines was enough for Gojo to feel his heart stop beating, come back, and stop again. The day and month marking made the function of this journal even clearer.

It was a diary. Your diary.

A shiver ran down Gojo's back, a whirlwind of thoughts racing through his mind. His eyes went from the diary to the ajar bedroom door, the feeling of having the golden opportunity slowly creeping up on him at the same time that the guilt for having considered invading your privacy made him feel like a criminal.

The chance to know if you talked about him, even thought about him, was literally between his fingers. Right there, in front of him.

“Fuck,” Satoru muttered and ran his tongue over lips before looking at the door again.

A sigh escaped from the back of his throat, the journal slowly pushed under your pillow again, and slowly Gojo walked to the door.

If he spent too much time inside there, maybe his mind would change and he was going to have to live with the guilt of having read your nastiest thoughts until he died.

Guilt somewhat different from the fatigue you were feeling when you returned to your bedroom almost two hours later. Your fingers calloused from trying to play the piano with the overused partitions of the Gojo family's private piano teacher. The only things you wanted after that was to write down how hellish your day was in the same diary touched by the prince some time before, and to go to sleep.

So as soon as you fell into bed after closing the door, your hands went looking for that little journal. And a shiver ran down your spine faster than the teacher had made you sit on the fluffy stool in front of the piano hours before.

The diary was still there, but it was different. It was much farther away from the edge of the pillow than you remembered it being.

Immediately, you threw the pillow away and gripped it so tightly; if it were older the cover would probably tear with the force you used. A relief came over you as soon as you saw that it was still closed, almost untouched, but still: its original position had been tampered with.

Had some servant found it and returned it to its place, thinking it was some book brought from the Zen'in realm?

You left the room and, as luck would have it, saw a servant walking down the hall with a basket of clothes.

“Excuse me!” you called out to her and immediately earned a long, angled bow from her, “Miss wouldn't know to tell me if, perhaps, you even saw someone entering one of the rooms in this hall today?”

One of her eyebrows arched and you realized how fast-breathing you were, looking like a neurotic lunatic.

“Lady, I believe the only people who walked these halls besides me, Your Grace and other servants, was the prince coming from his training with Lord Fushiguro who is accompanying you.”

Gojo wouldn't have...? Would he?

Your heart beat even harder, your fingers sank into the sides of the journal still between your hands and a forced smile began to form on your lips, “A-Alright, I just... I’ve been a little paranoid these days and...,” you bit your lower lip; why exactly were you explaining yourself to a servant girl?

“Thank you, Miss, for your time and information,” you said before entering the bedroom again and closing the door tightly, finally letting the young woman go on her way to the palace laundry.

The anxiety was eating you up inside and making you imagine possible occasions that never happened, would happen, or will happen. It was clear that you would not be able to sleep today if you did not know whether or not Gojo had read anything that was written there.

For the first time in months, you, without Maki's help or comments, changed from a tight dress into a gown suitable for nighttime walks around the palace, and the only thing that accompanied you with your thoughts in a million through the halls was your cold sweaty hands, which knocked in front of a tall wooden door as soon as you stopped walking. It was not Gojo's, it would be improper for a young girl like you to be seen entering his room at that time of night.

“Who's it?”

“It's me, Toji...,” you replied, the door slowly opened.

By his clothes, Toji looked like he was about to take a shower to change for dinner. And by yours, he imagined you were about to go to sleep.

“Why are you walking around in these clothes?”

“That's not important at the moment, Toji,” you replied and he crossed his arms.

“Isn't it? How can it not be important that you are almost without clothes in the middle of—”

“May I ask where Gojo is?” you interrupted him and saw that it looked like Toji had almost seen a ghost, especially when a hand of his forcefully took hold of your arm, squeezing it lightly.

“Are you going to meet with Gojo Satoru?!”

“W-What?” you felt shame burn inside your cheeks, “Why are you asking me that?! Do I look like someone who is going to meet Gojo Satoru?!”

His eyes sliding down your clothes slowly was the silent answer you needed before opening your mouth again, “I am not! I just... need to ask him something, do you know where he is?”

Toji took a deep breath and leaned one of his elbows on the doorframe, “I can't tell you for sure, but the last time I saw him again after we finished our afternoon fun, he was at the gardens, the ones with that flower's labyrinth, you must know of each one I'm talking about, right?”

“And was that still tonight? Or earlier?” you asked and he raised only one finger, indicating that the first option was the correct one, “Sure... I will, you know, talk to him, if you'll excuse me and—”

“I don't, I can't let you go walking around in those clothes and on top of that going to meet Gojo Satoru. And if you two are seen, hm? Would you enjoy having your father come and pick you up in a carriage if it comes to his ears that you've been falling for a Gojo?”

You stared at Toji, then looked down at his hand still holding you by the arm. Damn, you just wanted to know whether or not Satoru had read your diary, why was Toji suddenly caring so much about what you do or fail to do with Satoru?

“No one will know anything if you and he keep your mouths zipped, Toji,” you spoke up and swallowed dryly before adding: “And I can't ask you to come with me because... it's something personal, okay?”

“Something personal that you need to sort out in the gardens with none other than Satoru Gojo?" he frowned and opened a wry smile before denying with his head, “I'll with you, Y/N.”

You were horrified.

“W-What?! No! Toji!” you tried to stop Toji as he walked into his room and grabbed one of his coats, “It's just a conversation! Stop acting like we're hiding some—”

“Wear this,” he threw the coat over you, your face and shoulders, before leaving the room and locking the door from the outside, “I already said I'm going with you.”

You felt like yelling at him, like throwing that coat in his face.

“Toji, wait!” you ran to walk him down the hall and grabbed his wrist with all the strength you could muster, until you made him stop walking and look at you, “If you're coming with me, I need you to promise me that you won't listen to anything,” as soon as he opened his mouth to refuse the request, you were quicker, “Please, that's the only thing I ask of you today.”

Toji could sense how anxious, almost desperate, you were by the way your fingers squeezed the skin of his wrist. And, for the first time, he mentally recognized that the matter must be serious.

“Okay,” he let go of your hand and picked up his coat that you had been holding up until then to place it over your shoulders in the proper manner, “I'll just walk with you and stand outside the garden, is that okay?”

“That's perfect, Toji,” you replied allowing yourself to open a small smile before accompanying him down the corridor that eventually led to the main hall.

The walk to the gardens was silent, until the moment the flower’s labyrinth began and Toji stopped before facing you and speaking, “He's always in the middle of the labyrinth, so if you pass four rights and a left, you can get there faster.”

You nodded in agreement and, without looking at your fellow traveler and path, you entered the floral maze calmly, counting the rights and lefts as told by Toji and, in the middle of a tall circle, indeed stood Satoru Gojo, with a shirt unbuttoned to just below his collarbones and his hair tousled. It was an ordinary end of the day for him, who always went there to try to de-stress or feel better.

“Your Majesty?” you called, and Gojo, thinking he was starting to hear things, looked to the side, only to see you standing there holding Toji's coat over your shoulder.

“M-Milady?” he huffed as he noticed how his voice wavered and straightened his posture, “Pardon me, I wasn't expecting visitors, but to what do I owe the honor?”

“I’d like to ask you something, Your Majesty,” you felt your own anxiety grow; it was the first time you were talking alone, without anyone else, without Toji, without Gojo's parents, without gossiping servants, “But, I ask right now that you don't think I'm accusing you of something you didn't do, yes?”

Satoru swallowed dryly, but agreed with his head before sitting down on the cold stone bench with hands over his lap.

“Today, it came to my attention that a very specific thing in my room has been moved around and... in short, this thing is very important to me, I have had it for a long-time and...” your hands began to sound cold; eyes were fixed on the floor without the courage to face Gojo's, “You must know how I feel, right? When someone goes through your things and...,” you heard the rustling of his clothes and as you raised your eyes a little, you realized that he was getting up and walking in front of you, “Please, Your Majesty, don't send me to—”

Before you could finish speaking, Satoru took one of your cold hands and raised it to make you look at him as well.

“Milady, I have not read your diary.”

The heat radiating from his fingers to yours made you hold the breath without even realizing it. He was touching you, for the first time. He, Satoru Gojo, was touching you, and so close that you could see the edges of his tucked-in shirt and the bulge of his jutting collarbones. Just as you had fantasized about seeing several times in various pages of your diary.

And then your eyes really did stare into his. He looked worried about whether you believed him or not, but all you could think about was how close he was and how much you wanted him to get even closer.

Without stopping to think too long, your other hand caught on the edge of his shirt, pulling him against you, and seconds later your mouth moved against his.

Satoru was simply speechless, not knowing how to act, he was prepared for anything, even you calling him a liar, except for a kiss. But, just as you gave indications that you were about to pull away in the face of his lack of response, his hands clamped around your waist and on the back of your neck while his lips moved against yours, matching your needs and stealing all your breath.

It was impossible not to let the kiss deepen, his tongue curling into yours, and a mess of hands formed between you and him: yours caressing his shoulders and neck, his groping your waist, pushing Toji's coat away and taking advantage of the moment to feel you completely. Just as your body was burning for his, Gojo's was burning for yours.

As soon as the air ran out, his lips slid from yours to your neck and a sequence of shivers ran through your body, sliding down your back, past your waist and concentrating between your thighs. Your hips moved against his leg and a moan escaped his throat; a moan that reminded you that maze of flowers was not so far from where Toji still stood.

“Y-Your Majesty, I—,” you gasped as you felt Satoru's hands pinning you against his body and your head fell back, your eyes staring at the entrance to the maze through which you had arrived at that spot, “Cannot, this, do this, Y-Your Highness—”

A hand of yours pulled him by the hair away from your neck and you bit your lip at the sight of his dilated pupils and face completely lost in desire. He looked even more handsome now.

“I need, need to go back, Satoru,” you whispered, and as you noticed his face draw closer to yours to kiss you again, your body pulled away a little more, “We shouldn't... this kind of thing in public, we shouldn't do this.”

“Then come to my room tomorrow,” he spoke breathlessly and you denied with your head before you knelt down to get Toji's coat, “If you don't come to my room, I will feel obligated to go to yours, Milady.”

“If you do, Toji will kill you, I'm not even joking, Satoru,” you walked toward the same path you had taken to get there.

“Toji?” a chuckle escaped Satoru as he ran towards you and pulled you by the wrist to make you stop walking, “You don't know him very well, do you?”

You looked at Gojo over your shoulder not knowing exactly what he was referring to and he continued, “Look at him, Milady, look at him closely and you will see how much he wants to get under your skirts,” you were about to say it didn't make sense but wasn’t given the chance to, “You know I'm right; you know if you did to him what you did to me today he wouldn't hesitate to press you down on that bench and spread your legs.”

“This...,” you started to speak, not knowing exactly what to say, “Nonsense, Your Majesty, now... if you'll excuse me...,” you walked away, but thought it best to stop in the middle of the maze to normalize your breathing and straighten your hair, just like the coat over your shoulders.

If Toji noticed anything different, besides the fact that you didn't raise your eyes to face him, you were told nothing. The only things he did as he left you safe and sound in your room were to kiss the back of your hand and wish you a good night's sleep.

But a good night's sleep was the last thing you got. Several times when you closed your eyes, your mind made a point of remembering Gojo, his kiss, the warm feeling of his hands on your body, and then him talking about Toji.

In the middle of the night, you were staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Your thoughts wouldn't let you sleep. And most of all, the tingling sensation between your legs that you no longer knew if it came from the desire to have Gojo touch you again or from the possibility that Toji really liked you more than you thought. However, whatever was the cause of it, you fell asleep eventually out of sheer exhaustion.

Maki, already in the morning, came into your room and seeing you sleeping so deeply, realized that it was better to let you sleep a little longer. She just didn't expect that you would wake up around lunch time only.

“Good morning, sunshine,” she said, watching you roll over in bed and opening the windows as you shoved your face under the pillow, “C'mon! It's lunch time yet! Wake up, Milady, you can't stay in bed all day long.”

You grunted and agreed with the head before getting up and being directed to the bathroom with Maki's hands on your shoulders.

She was right: you couldn't stay in bed all day long, but you could stay in your room and that's exactly what you did for most of it, until early evening fell and the anguish of staring more and more at your bedroom door waiting for Gojo to walk through it seemed to get worse and worse. Maybe he was just waiting for you to open it with a sideways smile — but he wasn't, you found that out as soon as you opened it and felt like an idiot, staring at the floor in front of you.

At least the hallway was empty. Empty enough that the only noise was your breath, so empty that maybe if you went to Satoru's room no one would intercept you. You bit your lip at the thought and almost unconsciously your feet started to walk, walk, walk until you reached the front door of his room that was strangely unguarded by any guards.

It seemed even... rehearsed, programmed.

The door suddenly opened and you covered yourself with your arms for fear that it was a guard or someone from court coming out, but it was worse than that.

“He told me to open it for you,” the mouth below jade eyes said and you felt a shiver run down your back as you noticed the deep tone he chose to use.

“He?”

“Don't act like a fool right now, Milady,” Toji replied and the door opened a little wider for you to enter and stand side by side inside Gojo's luxurious room.

“Oh, you came a little later than I anticipated, but here you are anyway,” the prince said and stood up from the bed, letting you see that his clothes were not that different from yesterday, the only difference was a harness around his thighs and waist, “Come here, Milady,” a hand of his called out to you and remained spread in the air only to be caught by you seconds later.

You could feel Toji's watchful, interrogative gaze burning into your back and the feeling of being watched by him combined with the shiver running through your body when Gojo kissed your hand with eyes fixed on yours made the same tingle from yesterday appear, “I came here to apologize for yesterday, Your Majesty.”

It was a lie, you both knew that, but Toji did not, “For yesterday?”

“We kissed yesterday,” Gojo replied to Toji and stood up without releasing your hand, his eyes not straying from yours, “Actually, she kissed me and I must admit I had no intention of letting her come back to you yesterday, Toji-chan, but Milady was... worried, to say the least.”

Your hand was slowly released and Satoru circled your body before facing Toji and speaking again, “She was worried that you might kill me if I gave her more than one kiss and I admit again that at the time I could barely contain my laughter because I know you wouldn't do that, Toji-chan, quite the contrary: you'd be wondering why she didn't choose you, wouldn't you? Since, y'know, you want to fuck her so badly that you can barely avert your eyes from her body since she got here, am I wrong, sir?”

You didn't see it, but Toji's jaw locked. And the two of them stared at each other for long seconds.

“Answer, Toji, I’m talking now as your prince, not your sword-mate.”

He could lie if he wanted to. But that meant breaking a part of his heart that he didn't even know existed.

“No, Your Majesty, you are not wrong,” and just then Satoru's lips were close to your ear, his breath beating against your cheek and his eyes analyzing your expressions. He could see many things reflected in your eyes, but hurt, anger, or disappointment were not one of them.

“See, Milady? See how I was correct?” a hand of his reached over your waist to pull your body against his and turn you facing Toji, “And, if I’m still correct, I can tell that you not only want to be fucked by him, but by me too, by the way you look so tense...,” his fingers trailed up your back and brushed against your shoulder to massage the junction of it and your neck, “And the way your thighs are pressing against each other, do you need something between them, Milady? Perhaps my hand? Or his mouth?”

A heavy hand placed itself on one of Gojo's shoulders and you both looked to the side, only to see Toji as if he was about to break the prince's arm with just one hand, “Stop talking to her like that, can't you tell when you're making a girl uncomfortable?”

Satoru raised an eyebrow and used his other hand to pull your chin up before whispering close to your ear again, “Tell him, Milady, he deserves to know, don't you think?”

“Toji, I—,” you licked your lips before continuing, “I want it, want y-you both.”

A strange aura set between those two men, an aura you couldn't describe or define, but the exchange of glances between them and the way Satoru walked away made it clear that it was Toji who was going to make the first move with you. And his first step took your breath away completely, his hands grabbed your face and pulled your body against his and his mouth suddenly took hold of yours.

Now, there was no reason for any resistance or hesitation on your part, so your hands immediately placed themselves on the back of his neck to deepen the kiss and your mouth let his tongue enter in. His fingers ghosted across your shoulders, back, waist, and finally placed themselves on your hips possessively only to be pulled away seconds later by the slender hands of Satoru, who pulled you back and pushed you against his bed.

“She said 'you both', not 'you, Toji',” he sat on the bed with his back resting on the cold headboard and pulled you by one arm to sit on his lap.

Gojo took your lips in a hurried kiss and tangled his hands in your clothes to start removing them as quickly as you, completely restless on his lap, trying to breathe properly between the kiss and the feeling of having his warm fingers on your body again, allowed. And Toji, on the other hand, approached slowly, still dizzy from having finally kissed you after so long and struggling internally to decide whether or not to continue with the whole thing; to him you didn't seem like the kind of girl who could handle even one guy, let alone two.

Until he felt you grab one of his wrists and stared at you, seeing your head dropped back, lips parted, and neck being attacked by Satoru's lips.

“Touch me, Toji,” your speech came out as a whisper and the duke moved a little closer, but not enough for you to actually be able to feel his body against yours, so your hand dropped from his wrist to the belt of his pants, finishing bringing him close, “Please, just once do what I want without question, Toji.”

His pants tightened between his thighs, sanity escaping between his fingers like sand as soon as his hand curled into your hair and pulled your face against his to kiss you again.

As your breath disappeared again and your hips began grind against one of Gojo's thighs, a mess of hands began to build over your body. You could no longer tell if it was Satoru's or Toji's that were kneading and pinching your tits or that were squeezing your waist and sliding down between your legs.

You didn't even know whether to moan the name of one of the other before you looked down to the middle of your thighs and saw that, in fact, one hand of each was already on your pussy, the prince's rubbing your clit and your duke's playing with your entrance, feeling the wet mark on your panties getting bigger and bigger as your slick leaked more.

“She's so—,” Toji began to speak and Gojo added, “Fucking wet, I doubt it’d be hard to just slide into her right now.”

A small smile appeared on the brunette's lips as his fingers pulled your panties aside and teased your entrance, “You don't know anything about girls if you think you can just fuck them dry, Your Majesty,” and then his long, plump digits slid into you, making you arch your back and desperately cling to Satoru's shoulders.

A hoarse moan escaped you, close to his ear, and the feeling of being completely opened hit you hard suddenly.

“Dry, you say?” Gojo arched an eyebrow and rubbed your clit a little harder, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you try to grind your pussy against their hands harder, “Can't you feel how much she’s dripping onto your fingers even when they’re already inside her? You’re the one who doesn't know anything about girls, Toji.”

“S-Stop it y-you two,” you gasped, about to speak further, but Toji's fingers pressing on your sweetest spot made you lose the posture completely, clinging even tighter to Satoru and whimpering as the hot sensation deep in your belly grew uncontrollably.

“Oh, there we go,” Toji whispered and slipped his other arm around your waist to keep you still as his fingers began to thrust fast and deep inside you all the while slamming against that same sensitive spot.

How did he know your body so well? Gojo thought he couldn't be any more jealous of you with the Fushiguro man until he saw you panting, your eyes half-closed and pussy sucking his fingers deeper inside you, for his sake. It was at that moment that the prince, who was supposed to be in control, realized that he was just a boy next to Toji, who was much more experienced. And it got even worse for him as soon as you were pulled up, your back resting against the brunette's chest, and your body, just like the fingers moving in and out of you faster, could be seen completely by Satoru.

His emerald eyes were on the flushed face surrounded by platinum hair and remained fixed on it even as you let your head fall back over Toji's shoulder and your thighs closed around his hand at the same time your pussy squirted completely and your orgasm crashed over your body clouding your vision and making you moan loudly.

“Good girl, sweetheart,” he whispered close to your ear, pulled you to the side so the space between him and Gojo was empty and leaned toward the prince after leaving your pulsing pussy with no fingers, “This is how you treat a girl, Your Majesty,” Toji licked his fingers, wiping them clean of your juices, and slapped them against Gojo's red tinged cheek.

Satoru's pants became even tighter, how dare Toji?

A chuckle escaped him and his hands took hold of your waist to pull you onto his lap again, “Shut up, Toji.”

Just then, you still dizzy after your climax heard the sounds of buckles and buttons being opened and groped and by the time you managed to focus the attention on one of them again, you could see their hands around their shafts. The duke was fatter, he could fill you much better, the prince was longer, he could go deeper, but regardless of who was going to bury himself inside you first, you knew you were going to be stretched to the limits and thought you were ready for it until Satoru pulled you a little closer and held you by the waist exactly over his cock.

Differently than expected, he was slow, calm. First the puffy tip, then inch by inch. The sensitivity of your raw walls rubbing against his throbbing veins made both you and him moan loudly, his face sinking into the curve of your neck and your head falling back with eyes closed tightly, only opening when his dick was swallowed to the base and you began to feel uncontrollably full.

“Fuck,” Gojo gasped and raised his dilated pupil eyes to face you, “So fucking tight, sucking me in so hard,” a hand of his placed itself on the back of your neck and seconds later your lips were on his in a kiss interrupted several times by your moans and his; moans caused by his cock going in and out of your tight pussy, by your juices running down his veins and making a sticky mess with his precum.

Satoru was rutting into your heat without caring that one of Toji's hands had slid down your crotch and was now rubbing your clit furiously and you could barely think straight about anything other than his swollen tip kissing your cervix, about how you wanted him to go even deeper and how good it felt to have him inside you.

“H-Harder, please,” you gasped, and neither of them could tell if you were speaking to them solely, but even so, Toji and Gojo followed your request immediately and the perfect response came with your walls clenching down on the prince's long cock and the wet sounds getting even louder.

You felt two mouths latch onto either side of your neck and it was the incentive you needed to finally cum again, harder than before and pull Satoru's climax almost at the same time. The only reason your body didn't fall backwards with the spasms was that the duke's chest was against your back and the possessive hands of the man below you were holding you by the waist as he finished filling you to the brim.

He wanted to stay inside you much longer, shoved deep and making every drop of his cream be absorbed, but Toji wrapped his arms around your body and pulled you back until your pussy was free of Gojo's shaft and could be filled by him.

“Think you can take me after Gojo, princess?” the brunette whispered and you looked at him over one shoulder before agreeing with the head and placing hands over his on your body.

“Can, I-I can,” you felt Satoru's cum begin to leak down your thighs at the same time Toji's cock placed itself between them, “Do it, I-I wan—ngh!”

He slammed deep inside your pussy, fucking Satoru's cum even deeper and making you gasp suddenly. You could tell a glaring difference between Toji and the prince: in the former's hands you were almost a fleshlight, your body rising and falling according to his deep, hard thrusts, and in the latter's, a little doll about to break. But, neither of the two didn't make you feel wanted, desired.

The pain of overstimulation was beginning to mix with the pleasure caused by the pace inside you, and now you could barely keep your eyes open. The overwhelming feeling starting to be too much for your trembling body to handle, Toji's hands holding you being the perfect blessing not to let you just fall forward from exhaustion and his dick twitching against your gummy walls until they clenched tightly and his hips forced against yours erratically at the same time as his milk joined Gojo's inside you.

Before leaving you lying on the bed next to Satoru, the duke left small kisses on your neck and caressed your waist. You realized that the arms that hugged you and propped you up a little better on the soft bed were Gojo's, and for the next few minutes all you did was normalize your breathing and try not to fall asleep.

The loud sound of pants buttons being stirred made you awake from your state of near-sleep and look around, your attention falling on Toji who was gathering his own clothes and placing them on his body again.

“Where—Toji! Where are you going?”

He looked at you with an arched eyebrow, “Finish some things I should have already done if Your Majesty hadn't made me stay in this room for almost 2 hours before you arrived, Milady,” and then you both looked at Satoru who was running his hand nonchalantly between his hairlocks, “Besides...,” he approached the bed again and lifted your face slightly with his fingers on your chin, “I believe my job of taking care of you is finished for today,” his thumb brushed across your lips and you felt the shame burn inside your cheeks as he turned away, finished buttoning his own pants and walked to the bedroom door.

Nothing more was said by Toji after the door slammed and only Satoru and you were left.

Your mouth opened to say that it was also time for you to go back to your bedroom yourself, but Gojo was quicker this time, “You're sleeping here today, Milady,” you barely managed to stifle the silly smile that appeared on your lips upon hearing him and he took advantage of this small gap to rise up on his elbows, stand over your body with one hand on either side of your head and tilt his face towards with lips hovering over yours, “And for the rest of your days too, if that's the way you want it.”

What followed next was him putting himself between your legs and kissing you more eagerly than before.

— taglist. | jujutsu k. masterlist.

ㅤ🏷 tagging: @hirwishin @inu1gf @dukina @qudvxnkanx @slut4manjiro @kuroaka @sleepy3 @mizurimirai @semisgroupie @mrsvaleska @httphaitani @no-name-jack @sanoinc @strawberrysanzu @bontens-cum-slut @rxcked @rinsie @myarlert @medusalovessnakes @simpforerenn @tonaken @imsatansqueen @imkumichan @lordbugs @haitaniwhor3 @kumikocchi @jjendeku @ushijimasthiccthighs @winterv-black @crown5 @scholarlogy @hannas16 @misss-chrisss @bunnozi @jiminjamms @aerangi @momoewn @rosso-seta @alureasoley @todorokiskitten @festive @fxshigurosbae @6igital @flamefoxxrecs @aikonori @solarrexplosion @namyari @eungii @euryale16 .

1K notes · View notes

fuckyeahdindjarin · 2 years

Text

II ║ Buckskin

Jack Daniels x f!reader

{ << Part 1: Palomino | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Part 3: Dapple Grey >> }

Rating: E (18+ only)

Summary: It's an eventful first day on the trail, to say the least.

Warnings: Flirting, yearning, insecurities, sexual tension, gratuitous descriptions of the male body, sexual innuendoes, inappropriate thoughts of a saddle horn (I'm sorry), masturbation (m and f), language, mention of food, mention of breakup, no use of Y/N

Word count: 6.8k

Notes: All of you have literally blown me away with your thirst (affectionate) for cowboy Jack, thank you for encouraging me to be as self-indulgent as I want with this fic 🥰 I hope this was worth the wait, I had a blast writing this part! Picks up immediately after Part 1.

Buckskin: A colour that resembles tanned deerskin. A buckskin horse has a tan or gold coloured coat with black points - mane, tail, and lower legs.

Day 1

‘I hear you were meant to come with someone.’

You arch an eyebrow and quip drily. ‘No secrets on this ranch, huh?’

Jack gives you an apologetic tip of the hat. ‘Sorry, you’ve met Champ - he’s not exactly discreet. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.’

Your fears that you would run out of conversation within the first hour of the day proved unfounded. Jack is an attentive guide, his experience and knowledge of the area obvious as he leads you deeper into the mountains. He tells you about the local geography, points out native trees and flora to you when he notices your gaze lingering in interest, and entertains your questions about the ranch and the people in it.

The morning passes as quickly as the temperature rises, and soon you both shed your jackets, stopping briefly so Jack can affix the loose items to one of Bourbon’s saddle bags. He rolls up the sleeves of his plaid shirt before hopping back into the saddle.

You try not to stare at the way his forearms flex with the movement.

You want to live in the moment and all that crap, but you soon succumb to the temptation and pull out your phone to take panoramic videos of the stupendous vistas. Sweeping from left to right, the camera takes in grassy knolls, patches of wildflowers in full bloom, clear skies and the ever-looming presence of the Bighorn Mountains.

It’s not your fault that Jack just happens to be in the tail end of all your videos. He even turns his head just in time in one of them, granting you a perfect shot of his profile.

If anything, he’s in the way of the views. How dare he.

The timing works out according to Jack’s plans. Just as the heat starts becoming overbearing, a formidable line of trees comes into view after you crest the steepest incline of your journey so far.

The old pine forest envelops you in a balmy coolness, and you sigh at the earthy scent of leaves and bark as Scotch continues sure-footedly on the soft woodland path. Filtered through the treetops, the midday sun loses its harshness, instead throwing dappled beams under the horses’ hooves.

You’re a city girl at heart, but if you’re not careful, you can really get used to this.

After a no-frills lunch - a hearty baguette sandwich stuffed to the brim with ham, cheese and leafy greens, and an apple to finish - you want to press on, but Jack insists on a half-hour break so that you can stretch out your knees and hips, knowing that you would pay for it the next day if you didn’t.

The afternoon leg of the ride has just resumed when Jack brings up the subject.

You realise you’ve fallen quiet a tad too long to be considered comfortable, so you compensate by flashing him a reassuring smile. ‘No, no, it’s fine. My ex-boyfriend and I booked this trip together. It was supposed to be a little getaway for my birthday.’

‘I’m sorry.’

You shake your head. ‘Don’t be. To be honest, it would’ve been boring with him here. He would’ve whinged about the horses smelling and we definitely couldn’t have gone any faster than a trot. He doesn’t ride.’

Jack chuckles. ‘Sounds like a keeper, whatever possessed you to leave him?’

‘I wish I did - he left me.’

‘Pardon my language, but he sounds like a fuckin' idiot.’

Your laugh rings in the quiet of the woods, and he looks pleased at your reaction, his warm eyes resting on you easily. Since it’s only fair that he should share something with you too, you ask conversationally, ‘What about you, cowboy? Do you have some sad sob story that brought you to the Statesman?’

You should’ve guessed, by the way his lips purse, and the smallest dip in his smile. But what comes out of his mouth in a quiet rasp still stuns you.

‘My wife - she died eight and a half years ago.’

The blood literally drains out of your face. Of course - you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t put your big foot into your bigger mouth in front of someone you’re about to spend the next seven days with.

‘I’m sorry, darlin’, I didn’t mean to unsettle you -’

‘Oh god,’ you blurt out, brows knitted together in distress and stumbling over your words. ‘Why are you apologising to me? I’m a complete idiot. I’m so sorry, that was so insensitive of me -’

‘Darlin’ -’

‘I shouldn’t have phrased it that way, I didn’t mean to upset you -’

‘Darlin’, just let me -’

‘- I swear I didn’t mean it, Jack, please forgive me -’

Firm fingers close around your right wrist, and when he calls your name, your eyes snap to his, jolted out of your ramble. A gentle thumb brushes your pulse point and he smiles at you. ‘You run your mouth at a gallop, don’t you?’

‘I’m sorry,’ you answer in a small voice.

‘There's nothin' to apologise for. You didn’t know, and the joke would’ve landed with anyone else,’ he comforts you.

He lets go of you slowly, as if not to spook you, and you duck your head. ‘I’m still so sorry, Jack.’

His knee bumps into yours, startling you, and your stirrup irons clink sweetly when they touch. You didn’t realise he’s pulled in so close into you. It’s oddly intimate, riding this close to someone else - close enough to trade secrets.

‘Please, darlin’, don’t be. Eight and a half years is a very long time ago. I’ve been dating casually for the last few, actually,’ he confides in you with a sheepish smile, which goes a long way to set you at ease. ‘But it’s hard to meet people when there are about five single women who live in a three-hour radius from the ranch.’

‘No Tinder around here?’

His brow furrows below his hat. ‘Tinder - what?’

‘Tinder. The online dating app?’ you repeat. At his shrug, you tease, ‘Not big on technology, are we?’

Winding the reins around the saddle horn, he holds up one finger at you in a silent wait a second, while fishing for something in one of his shirt pockets, which he presents to you with a ta-da.

‘Um, Jack… what’s that?’

‘I’ve been told that it’s an iPhone,’ he replies, turning the last word slowly on his tongue, as if it sits uncomfortably. At your incredulous look, he asks, ‘What’s wrong with it?’

You take it from him, looking it over with a snicker. ‘It’s literally held together by scotch tape. Did you pick it up from the side of the road after it fell out of someone else’s car?’

His fingers brush yours when he takes it back, sticking his nose up imperiously. ‘I don’t need a smartphone, or Tinder. I do things the old-fashioned way.’

You bite your lip, amused. ‘Oh? And what might that be?’

Jack winks at you. ‘I pick up women at a bar - the closest one is two hours’ drive away.’

‘Two hours?’

‘If I don’t pick up anyone, I have to sleep in my car since it’s too far to drive back. It’s a surprisingly effective incentive.’

You study him closely, but you don’t know him well enough to judge if he’s joking or not. ‘You cannot be serious, cowboy.’

‘Gotta keep those time-honoured traditions alive, darlin’,’ he replies, happy keeping you guessing.

‘That’s ridiculous. I’ll teach you how to use Tinder, it’ll be fun!’ you insist. ‘It will also save you a ton of gas money.’

‘How? There’s no signal in the mountains.’

‘What about at the Halfway House?’

He begrudgingly admits, ‘Fine, there is wifi there. And you’re the guest, so technically, I can’t say no to you.’

You don’t hear the ‘you’re the guest’ and ‘technically’ though. Your heart is pounding at this cowboy telling you that he can’t say no to you.

Before you’ve recovered, he asks, ‘What about you? Are you ready to get back into the saddle, so to speak?’

You let your eyes linger over him, and your lips twitch. ‘Yeah - I’m beginning to think that I am.’

In the summer, the Statesman leads pack trips into the mountains every week. Jack and Tequila look after the guests on alternate, usually with a backup rider or two, depending on the size of the groups. While the routes are not set in stone, they set up makeshift campsites at certain spots every summer to make logistics easier, which are dismantled in the fall when tourist season winds down.

Jack glances at his watch as the lakeside camp comes into view. Perfect. There’s still a couple of hours until dinnertime.

This particular camp has a stone fire pit and a pile of already chopped logs kept dry under a tarp. Wooden posts have been hammered into the ground for holding saddles and tack. A bale of hay for the horses has been strung up in a net, hanging from a nearby tree, which was delivered earlier in the day by Tequila.

Your knees protest when your feet hit the ground, and you wince at the tightness in the joints. It doesn’t escape Jack’s notice, and he asks, ‘You alright, darlin’?’

You wave away his concerns. ‘Just a bit stiff, that’s all.’

‘You’ll need to do a lot of stretching tonight, or you’ll really feel it tomorrow.’

You’re distracted, unbuckling Scotch’s girth as you reply offhandedly, ‘Yes, sir.’

Jack’s head whips towards you so quickly he nearly pulls his neck. You’re not paying him any heed though - you’re balancing on your tiptoes to grab the saddle with both hands, your shirt riding up, baring the small of your back. You gently drag the saddle and the sweaty pad underneath off Scotch.

The thud with which the saddle lands on the wooden post shakes Jack out of his thoughts. He clears his throat and busies himself with untacking Whiskey.

‘I was thinking we could have a swim before dinner,’ he suggests, pointing behind him. ‘There’s a lake just beyond the trees, I think we could all do with a cool down and then a shower, including the horses.’

‘They like water?’ you ask, surprised.

Jack joins you on the opposite side of the post with Whiskey’s tack. ‘These three are basically fish, but with more legs and hair.’

You hang Scotch’s bridle on the edge of the post, one hand on your hip, and lament, ‘I didn’t bring a swimsuit, though.’

He really shouldn’t have, but the words come out without going through his brain. ‘Don’t you wear underwear, darlin’?’

You give him a look that has the tips of his ears turning red under his hat. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know, cowboy.’

Jack gapes at you, the rug pulled from underneath his boots too quickly to wrap his head around it. You let him flounder for just a few moments before you put him out of his misery, breaking into a chortle. ‘I’m messing with you - of course I do!’

Jack shakes his head, letting out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. With a chuckle, he watches you walk away to help with unloading Bourbon.

It looks like he will have to keep his wits about him this week.

The grass is long and soft under your bare feet, finally allowed to breathe after more than seven hours in the saddle today. The short walk to the lake is already doing you good, you can feel your back and hip muscles stretching and loosening.

You giggle when the horses spot the lake, and with excited neighs, they start at a canter to race each other to the water, leaving you and Jack behind.

‘They’re ridiculous,’ you say fondly, glancing at Jack, who’s also taken off his boots.

‘They know the good life,’ he quips.

You stop by the edge of the lake, under the shade of a tree with low branches. Jack hangs his towel on one of them, and you follow suit, then your hands waver over the hem of your shirt, fingers curling into your palms. You don’t remember the last time anyone saw you in your underwear other than your ex. Even though you’ve shaved and exfoliated in the comfort of your lodge last night, and you’re actually wearing a matching set of underwear - just in case, you told yourself - you hesitate.

Thankfully, Jack doesn’t seem to pick up on your awkwardness. In fact, he’s not looking your way at all - he’s watching as the horses splash in the shallows.

The hat comes off first. You haven’t seen him without it yet, he was wearing it even at dinner last night. A large hand rakes through the roots of his hair, leaving a dishevelled, sweaty mess in its wake. His dark hair is cropped short, but from the way the stray wisps coil against his forehead, you can tell that it would grow long into thick curls if allowed to do so.

His plaid shirt is next, the small buttons undone in quick succession under his nimble fingers, until it hangs open and loose over a firm chest and soft stomach. With a smooth roll of his shoulders, the sweat-stained shirt falls to the ground and your jaw drops.

You know you’re staring disrespectfully, but mother of god you’d have to fling yourself, fully clothed, into the water to stop yourself, and that would be a tad dramatic - even for you.

He’s tanned all over, his forearms darker, presumably as he usually rides with his sleeves rolled up. His frame is broad - so broad you’d barely be able to wrap your arms around him if you tried. You can see the sweat dotting his skin, salty beads sliding down the contours of his back. The subtle firmness of his body speaks to the physical nature of his job, long hours in the saddle, riding and wrangling over days and years.

You’re suddenly painfully aware of eyes on you. Snapping your mouth shut, you can only bear to briefly glance at Jack with an apologetic half-smile.

Busted.

He winks at you, his big hands hovering over the ridiculous flask-shaped belt buckle you haven’t yet had the chance to quiz him about. The lines of his arms have no business being so defined. Is it just you or is he flexing under your scrutiny?

Finally, he rasps, ‘You’re makin’ me blush, darlin’.’

‘Sorry,’ you squeak, feeling your cheeks burn as you spin around to give him some privacy.

Jack grins to himself, standing taller from the way you’re looking at him. He makes short work of his jeans and heads to the lake in his boxers, leaving you to disrobe. ‘I’ll see you in the water when you’re ready then.’

Diving in, Jack swims into the middle of the lake with easy strokes, sighing deeply as the cold water brings down his body temperature. Breaking the surface, he runs his fingers through his hair to push it back from his face, and takes stock of Bourbon and Whiskey on the other side of the lake, while Scotch rolls on the grassy bank, scratching his back.

He picks up on a quiet ripple of the water behind him, and he wades around at the small yelp you let out. You’re swimming in his direction, a beam lighting up your face. ‘It’s so cold - it feels amazing!’

Jack smiles back, paddling on the spot. ‘It’s the only lake on our route, so you better enjoy it, darlin’.’

You take your time, drifting through the water in a lazy breaststroke, which allows you to admire the views as you swim. The surface of the lake is a perfect mirror of the late afternoon sky, surrounded by lush grass that Scotch and Whiskey are now grazing on. You’re not a particularly strong swimmer, and you become winded after a few laps around the perimeter. Spotting Jack taking a break, you join him.

The slopes of his strong shoulders bob above the waterline, his wet hair slicked back, and he smiles at you. ‘Tired?’

You huff a laugh. ‘Let’s put it this way. The last time I went to the gym, Tinder hadn’t been invented yet.’

‘I couldn’t tell at all. You’ve done well, darlin’,’ he compliments you.

His praise goes straight to your head like champagne on an empty stomach, and you hope it doesn’t show. You shrug nonchalantly and jest, ‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, cowboy. The real test is whether I can get up tomorrow.’

Kicking your legs, you propel yourself upwards, your eyes slipping close as you come to float weightlessly on your back, soothing the ache in your muscles. The sun is warm on your skin, and you leisurely glide your arms and feet through the water to stay adrift. Your ears submerged, it drowns out the noises of the mountains - the birdsong, the rustle of trees, the horses. You listen to your own breathing and the trickle of moving water.

It’s strangely still. Has Jack swum off?

You tilt your face to the right, the water cool on your cheek, and open your eyes to find him looking straight at you.

‘What?’ you ask, somewhat self-consciously.

His gaze skims not so subtly across your floating form, before returning to your face. He shrugs casually, ‘Nothing, you just look very - comfortable.’

The way the word rolls off his tongue sends a shiver down your spine.

Not that he’s interested in you. You have to be real with yourself - he can’t be. He’s way out of your league, and then by some distance. A man who looks like that doesn’t go for girls like you. He’s just been flirting with you because that’s what cowboys do. It’s part of the dude ranch experience, how they get customers coming back - you know how it is.

You swallow thickly, and you don’t miss the way it catches his stare. The tension that had flared up during the hat fitting yesterday rears its head again. Your lips part in anticipation as he drifts closer to you -

- when something heavy knocks hard into your left leg, throwing you off balance and sending you plummeting into the water.

‘Oh my god what was that?’ you screech, flailing about in panic, rubbing water from your eyes.

Jack almost looks amused at your reaction. ‘Don’t worry, darlin’, it was probably just a fish.’

You watch the lake for signs of life, but you cannot see beyond the dark surface. ‘Probably a fish? What do you mean by probably?’

Even the horses are watching the commotion. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Bourbon standing on the edge of the lake, water dripping from his mouth as you disturbed him mid-drink, ears pricked forward in curiosity.

You feel another powerful underwater current of disturbance near your feet as you paddle, and in genuine fear, you scream and splash clumsily in Jack’s direction until you’ve clambered onto him, your legs curling around his waist instinctively. He sinks briefly from the sudden weight of you before he regains his composure, treading water to keep you both above the water, hands gripping your hips to steady you.

‘Whoa, easy there, darlin’ - you ok?’

‘How did the fish get into the lake?’

Jack’s mouth opens and shuts, and opens again in absolute bewilderment. ‘I beg your pardon?’

You ask louder. ‘How did the fish get into the lake?’

Jack is torn. Are you really asking him about fish when you’re crowded up against him, all wet and slippery curves? Your nails digging into the meat of his shoulders, your breasts - barely contained in a lacy black bra - so soft on his chest?

You seem completely oblivious to your physical proximity to him, pressing on, ‘Did it walk into the lake from the nearest river? Did it fly? How could there be fish in a lake that is completely surrounded by dry land? And that felt bigger than a fish. If it’s not a fish, what is it? It’s preposterous -’

Reaching up, Jack slips one hand behind your head, fingers burrowing into your hair, thumb brushing your cheek to get your attention. ‘Darlin’!’

You stop abruptly, blinking at him as your alarm recedes, chest rising and falling rapidly.

‘It was just a fish, I promise,’ he breaks the silence with a reassuring smile. ‘They don’t bite.’

Oh god. You’ve been ranting about fish - out of all things - like a stark raving lunatic.

You wince, realisation dawning on you that you've basically sunk your claws into his broad shoulders. You slowly release your grip, and despite his best attempt to hide it, you catch the small flinch that flickers across his face.

‘I’m so sorry, you must think I’m insane,’ you say finally, biting your bottom lip in embarrassment.

Jack grinds his teeth as his stare drops to your mouth, when you suddenly slip in his grasp. His hands catch you by the upper thighs to keep you above the water, his cock fucking twitching as one of your small hands grabs the back of his neck on reflex to right yourself, the other landing on his chest. Your noses knock together, and he prays that you don’t feel his heart beating out of his rib cage under your palm.

His words come out in such a husky slur that they’re barely intelligible. ‘You know I don’t think that, darlin’.’

He feels your fingers curl into the nape of his neck, your eyes unguarded as you watch him in surprise. ‘Oh?’

Jesus Christ. You have no poker face whatsoever. He’s not proud of it but that fucking turns him on. There’s something so open and untouched about your honesty, which he doesn’t deserve -

‘Jack?’

He clears his throat, Adam’s apple bobbing. ‘Yes, darlin’?’

‘Can you get me out of the water? Please?’

He smiles - and he hopes you don’t see the strain in it. ‘Alright, hang on tight, now.’

It’s not easy to swim with his arms full of you, one hand on your middle to secure you in place so he doesn’t give away his throbbing erection. But by some miracle, he makes it, and when the water is waist-high, he releases you carefully to ensure you don’t brush against his front. He swallows dryly as you wade towards the bank, your bare skin emerging from the lake, inch by inch.

Crossing your arms, you give him a small smile. ‘I hope I didn't completely freak you out, cowboy.’

If only you knew how far from the truth that is.

Jack tries his best to keep his focus on your face, resisting the urge to follow the droplets of water sliding down your body when you shift your weight from one leg to another, the lovely swell of your hip popping.

He needs to calm the fuck down.

So he tries to winks at you, though it probably comes across as a grimace. ‘Don’t worry your pretty head about it, darlin’. I’ll just - do some swimming and I’ll be right back.’

You turn to leave, one last look tossed over your shoulder, and he has to snap himself out of it, plunging back into the water so he doesn’t watch you go like some deviant.

He swims lengths, from one end of the lake to the other, for Christ knows how long until his mind clears and the strain in his boxers eases. Judging by the position of the sun, he should fill up the portable shower for you and head back to camp so you can clean up while he makes a start with dinner.

Scrubbing himself dry with his towel, Jack grabs the portable shower - essentially a bag with a handle so it can be hung from a tree, fitted with a detachable shower head - and dunks it into the water until it’s full. His clothes in one hand, the shower bag in his other, he whistles for the horses to follow him, walking back to camp with his towel slung low on his waist.

When it comes into view, he calls out, ‘Alright, darlin’, it’s shower time -’

He looks up and his words die on his tongue.

You haven’t bothered changing into clean clothes - the shirt you were wearing is now tied around your waist like a sarong, and he can see your soaked bra through the white tank top you were wearing underneath the shirt during the day. You’re standing at the wooden post hovering over Scotch’s saddle, gently running a washcloth over the seat to clean the sweat and grime from the leather -

And your other hand is wrapped firmly around the base of the saddle horn.

His cock fucking lurches at the sight.

You choose that moment to meet his eyes and ask, ‘Did you have a good swim?’

He has to physically dislodge his tongue, stuck to the roof of his mouth, to answer you, ‘It was fine. You want to take a shower now, or -?’

‘Yes sure, once I finish cleaning the saddle.’

Dropping his clothes in a pile on the ground, he reminds you, ‘I told you, darlin’, you really don’t have to -’

You cut him off with a smile. ‘And I told you - I want to.’

He swallows at the word want. ‘You’re the most impervious guest I’ve had the pleasure of meeting, ma’am.’

You shoot him a cheeky grin, and it only makes him harder.

He usually doesn’t bother with the portable shower in the mountains, preferring a quick scrub in the river instead, but he needs an excuse to get away from you right now. Scratching the back of his neck, he stammers, ‘I’m - uh - I’m going to take a shower first then, if you don’t mind.’

The look of surprise you send his way has him hesitating. ‘Oh, but Ginger said that you -’

‘What?’ he prompts when you stop abruptly.

You shake your head and turn back to your task at hand. ‘Never mind. Enjoy, cowboy.’

If only you knew.

He grabs a bar of soap from a saddle bag and practically sprints out of the campsite and into the forest, deep enough that he can no longer see or hear you and the horses. Finding a private spot surrounded by bushes, he hangs up the portable shower and secures the shower head by slotting it into a fork of a branch, then he turns the valve to get the water flowing.

Towel and boxers hitting the ground, his hard cock springs free, and he steps underneath the weak water stream, finally wrapping his hand around himself with a low gasp.

It’s been too fucking long.

Lathering the soap between his rough palms, he starts working his fist over his cock, the other hand flat on the rough tree bark, steadying himself as he hunches over, gritting his teeth to stop from groaning aloud. He can’t remember the last time he even bothered seeking out pleasure - alone or with anyone else.

It was supposed to be another week on the job. A rowdy trip with old regulars and typical Kingsman hijinks. Heavy drinking, all-night poker games and painful hangovers. Safe, predictable.

It wasn’t supposed to be you, with your wicked sense of humour and soft curves and just a bit of hurt lurking under the surface of your easy smile. The way you look at him - he’s forgotten how his blood could thrum under his skin and roar in his ears.

It doesn’t take long - embarrassing really - before he feels his balls draw up and his whole body pull taut in tension. He thinks of your small hand wrapped around the leather saddle horn when he lets go, a deep moan in his chest, cum spurting thick and fast over his fingers, panting as he watches it drip slowly down his wrist and forearm.

He runs his other hand down his face. Fuck. It’s going to be a long week.

The portable shower is a surprisingly nice way to end the day. By the time you’ve shampooed and washed off the smell of horses and leather from your skin, the sun has dipped and the evening chill is creeping in. You rub your hair dry as best as you can without the creature comforts of a hairdryer, shimmy into cozy sweatpants and a hoodie, then make your way back to camp.

The sky is turning violet, the sparse clouds glowing pink on the underside. The horses are tucking into their supper, and you check if they’ve dried their coats in the sun, in case they need a towelling down. Satisfied that they don’t, you bid them good night and carry on towards the warmth of the fire pit.

At the sound of your footsteps, Jack looks up, the golden flames softening his features. He’s sitting on a log, a chopping board balanced on his lap as he cuts up mushrooms. A frying pan sits on a grill over the pit, the smell of caramelising onion sweet in the air.

‘I hope you like omelette,’ he says.

‘Perfect,’ you sigh when you take a seat on the log that he left out for you, your feet needing the rest. ‘Anything I can help with?’

Jack gives you a playful scowl, leaning forward to scrape the mushrooms into the frying pan. ‘Now, what did I say about guests helping with things?’

‘That you like it?’ you poke fun with a shrug.

‘Such insolence,’ he teases, stirring the vegetables with a wooden spoon. ‘If you must, you can help slice and butter the bread, we’ll toast it in the pan later.’

The quiet lull between you is comfortable, punctuated by the snap of burning logs and the sizzle of the pan. You cut the baguette in neat diagonals and try not to overthink it, but you can’t help being conscious of the fact that you’re basically wearing pyjamas, with not a stitch of makeup on, in the presence of someone as handsome as this cowboy. You cast your eyes over him briefly. He looks comfortable in a fresh pair of jeans and a sweater, his hair still wet from his shower.

He catches you staring - how many times has it been today? - and he smiles at you like he doesn’t see anything wrong with you.

The omelette is deliciously cooked, barely wobbly in the middle, seasoned just right and topped with fresh parsley. The toasted bread, which Jack tops with tomatoes and basil, fills the hole in your belly left by the day’s long ride.

Over the course of the dinner, the sky loses all colour. The darkness consumes everything but the immediate circle of the pit, warded off by the flickering fire. Save for the dizzying starscape that looks like it’s been carelessly splattered onto black canvas by a silver-dipped paintbrush, all is cloaked in the cover of night, even the horses are just distant sounds in the dim.

You try to take the dirty plates and cutlery, but Jack jumps onto his feet and physically restrains you by pushing you down into your seat. You don’t have to look to know his big palms easily span your entire shoulders, his fingers grazing your collarbone as he chides, ‘Don’t you dare, darlin’. But if you don’t mind, you could lay out the bedding while I wash up.’

Keen to move about at least a little bit after the big dinner, you find the plushly padded sleeping bags in a neat pile, and after a moment’s consideration, you roll out one on each side of the pit. There are also two camping pillows already inflated, and an extra blanket each. You roll the log you were sitting on right up against your sleeping bag as a backrest - you can use the support. You’re making a nest for yourself when Jack comes back and lays out the clean plates to dry.

He chuckles at the comfortable sight you make. ‘You look ready for bed. Or would you like a nightcap?’

You grin. ‘Nightcap sounds good.’

‘You like whiskey?’

‘Only if it’s Statesman brewed,’ you wink.

‘Flattery will get you everywhere, darlin’,’ he laughs and grabs the whiskey from a saddle bag. The cork pops with a velvety echo, and Jack makes a face of satisfaction at the sound. ‘I don’t have glasses, do you mind if we share the bottle?’

You shake your head and pat the space next to you on your sleeping bag. He takes a seat on the other end, a respectable distance between you, legs bent at the knees. He hands you the bottle. ‘Ladies first.’

You don’t know a lot about whiskey, but this one goes down smoothly and pools warmly in your full belly. Relaxation seeps into your bones as the alcohol works its way through your system. You pass it to Jack as you sag against the log.

‘So, how would you rate your first day?’ asks Jack casually, taking a sip.

‘What, like, out of ten?’ you quip.

‘If you like,’ he chuckles.

‘Don’t let it get to your head, cowboy - but it’s pretty close to ten.’

Jack blows a low whistle. ‘I’m afraid it’s all downhill from here, darlin’. I exhausted all my tricks today.’

You laugh, which echoes loudly in the stillness of the night, when he gives the bottle to you again. ‘You know, it’s so quiet out here I can hear it. It’s not an absence of sound, I can actually hear it.’

‘Hard to come by in the city, huh?’

Tilting your face upwards, you marvel at how big the sky is here. ‘You don’t really see stars in the city either.’

‘Do you know your constellations?’

‘Can’t say I do.’

He takes the bottle when you offer it to him. ‘There’s a telescope at the Halfway House, we can really get into it there.’

You peer at him. ‘You’re just a nerd under that dashing cowboy exterior, aren’t you?’

‘Can’t say I’ve been called a nerd before,’ he chuckles, then sends a roguish grin your way. ‘So you think I’m dashing?’

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. ‘Don’t fish for compliments, cowboy. It’s unbecoming.’

‘I think you’re drunk, darlin’. I should stop you now.’

You grab the bottle by the neck and take a swig. ‘Shut up, I’m not.’

‘You don’t want to be hungover tomorrow. We’ll be riding through some of the best views of the trip,’ warns Jack. ‘Did you bring a proper camera, or are you an Instagram kinda girl?’

You cock your head to one side. ‘You’ve heard of Instagram? I’m impressed.’

‘I don’t use it, but I take photos for the Statesman Instagram account. Tequila does the uploading and hashtags.’ He makes a face at the last word, like it tastes funny.

‘How? The camera lens on your phone is cracked!’

‘I use a real camera,’ he retorts in jest.

‘Fancy,’ you tease. ‘Can I look through your photos?’

He shrugs a bit reluctantly. ‘They’re nothin' special.’

You nudge him in the side with your elbow. ‘C’mon cowboy, don’t be shy.’

Peering at you from under his dark lashes, he gives you a lopsided smile. ‘As I said, can’t say no to you, darlin’.’

The heat that flashes across your face has nothing to do with the fire or the whiskey.

Rummaging through one of the saddle bags, Jack pulls out a bulky digital SLR camera and hands it to you before sitting down again, this time closer to you, shoulder to shoulder. You can almost taste the whiskey on his exhale as he watches you switch on the camera and start flipping through the photos on the small screen.

As if to manage your expectations, he says almost bashfully, ‘It’s just a secondhand camera I bought off a guest a few years back. Never took lessons or anything, it’s mostly point and shoot.’

His insecurity is endearing. You give him a pat on the knee and a playful smirk. ‘My bark is worse than my bite. I’ll be gentle with you, cowboy.’

Jack watches over your shoulder, scooting in as you go deeper into the archives, his arm on the log behind you so that you feel his chest against your back. When you stop to take a closer look at a photo, he chimes in to tell you something about the shot, fingers brushing aside yours to zoom in, pointing out details not immediately obvious. The well-composed pictures are mostly of scenery and guests, and you can tell that he has a particular knack for shooting in tricky lighting. Your breath catches at a shot of Whiskey, a magnificent sunset in the backdrop.

You turn towards him. He’s so close that you can see every soft line on his face. ‘I actually work in the creative field, and I’m sorry to break it to you, cowboy - your stuff is really good.’

‘You don’t have to say that,’ he huffs, clearly embarrassed, bringing the bottle to his lips.

You wink. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not flattering you or anything. I’m sure your ego doesn’t need any more stroking.’

He chokes suddenly, his body knocking into you, amber drops of whiskey trickling down his chin before he swipes at it with the back of his hand. His eyes are dark, pinning you with a look you can’t quite decipher. His words come out in the deepest, smokiest baritone. ‘I wouldn’t say no if you offered to stroke it, darlin’.’

There it is again. The pendulum that’s been swinging between the two of you since the moment this cowboy knocked on your door. It runs you off your feet one moment and then him the next, neither of you finding solid ground with each other. The back-and-forth has you grasping for straws one minute and him thrown off balance the next.

It shouldn’t excite you this much.

You grab the bottle from him, not caring that your fingers scrape deliberately over his, making him shiver. You take a big gulp, eyes watering at the burn of the alcohol, but you need the liquid courage to deliver your next shot. ‘Are you talking about your ego or something else, Jack?’

You feel rather than see the shudder that runs through him at the sound of his name on your lips. The way his knuckles turn white on his knees, his nostrils flare before taking a sharp intake of air has you holding your breath. His reaction thrills and confounds you at the same time. He can’t possibly want you - can he?

He keeps his gaze on you as he licks his bottom lip and plucks both the bottle and camera from your hands. You jump when he brushes the crook of his index finger under your chin, and you can’t read his suddenly shuttered expression. ‘Get some sleep, darlin’. Tomorrow will be a long day.’

You don’t say another word as you watch him go.

Of course you can’t sleep. You’re thinking about Jack’s body pressed up against yours in the water. The skim of his fingertips when you pass the bottle to and fro. His breath hitting your cheek while he leans in close to point out something on the camera.

Tossing and turning, you don’t know how much time has passed, but Jack eventually makes it back to his sleeping bag, just yards from you. You listen to him getting in quietly, fabrics shifting as he settles, until everything falls still.

You twist around to look behind you. The embers are burning low, barely throwing enough light to see beyond his back, slowly rising and falling. He seems to be sleeping.

You can risk it, right? You’ll be quick. You’ve been wanting release for hours, even before the tipsy, fireside exchange. It’s been months since you’ve even wanted this at all… probably the first time after the breakup.

The whiskey in you makes you reckless.

You slide your hand under the elastic band of your sweatpants and into your panties. You’re already slippery and sensitive, and your mouth parts in a wordless whimper as you trace a finger through your folds. Jack’s all the way on the other side of the fire, but now that you’ve known the weight of him against your side and the scent of whiskey on his lips, it doesn’t matter.

Dipping one finger into your pussy, you smear your clit with your own arousal and rub yourself with two fingers. There’s no time for finesse, it’s messy and desperate. You haven’t touched yourself for even a minute before you cum, back arched and the blanket twisted in your grasp as the tension in your body snaps. The release leaves you both satisfied and not, the whole thing over too quickly for the endorphins to reach your head.

Panting into the crook of your elbow over your lips, you just hope you’ve been quiet enough.

But you haven’t.

As you fall silent, Jack lies wide awake, cock heavy and aching between his legs. He digs his nails into his palms and steels himself for a long, sleepless night.

More notes: I haven't quite decided yet, but I'm thinking of doing one part on each day of the trip, which means there will be at least 6 more parts coming. I haven't sketched out anything beyond the 3rd and 4th parts though, so we'll see! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, comments and reblogs would be very much appreciated as always! I'm always up for a good screeching about cowboy Jack 🥰

Horsey notes (optional reading): It's important to take care of tack, especially leather tack, which can be very expensive, especially if they're custom fit. Tack that isn't cleaned and conditioned properly can easily crack and break. Leather saddles and bridles should be sponge cleaned to remove sweat and dirt, and then saddle soap should be applied to moisturise the leather. I still remember the most dreaded test for me in Pony Club exams was taking the bridle apart for cleaning, then having to reassemble it!

#jack daniels x you #jack daniels fanfic #jack daniels x reader #jack whiskey daniels #jack daniels #jack daniels x fem!reader #jack daniels x f!reader #kingsman golden circle #kingsman fanfiction

823 notes · View notes

bubbiegumprincess · 7 months

Note

HELLOO FRIEND💕hope your having a lovely day! im just wondering if you could do some hcs of the reader and the main 4 boys + craig and tweek going to an aquarium! it can be platonic or romantic! doesn't matter to me :)

(i am hyperfixated on aquariums and sharks rn helppppp)

(AAAAAA FIRST REQUEST OMGGG SO SORRY IF THIS IS BAD IM STILL IMPROVING SO SORRY!! Also!! I did hcs for the main 4 and tweek + craig indivisually, i hope thats okay!)

MAIN 4 + TWEEK AND CRAIG GO TO AN AQUARIUM WITH THE READER !!

-MAIN 4-

• when you first arrive at the large, atmospheric aquarium, you're immediately astonished by small glass figures of fish hanging from the ceiling.

• Stan and Kyle DART toward the large glass enclosure containing schools of fish. Something about it was- mesmerizing.

• while your eyes are on the tank, Kenny is dragging you silently to an enclosure with an astonishingly big great white shark (I know nearly nothing about different types of sharks im so sorry </3)

•on the other side of the aquarium, the noise of Eric arguing with his mother drowns put of the scene as the world around you goes quiet. You can hear the distant splashing of the water tank and footsteps.

•You look to your right. Stan and Kyle walk together, quietly discussing the fish they just saw. You pat the seat next to you and Stan sits. Nothing echoes the room but utter silence, as nobody dared to say a word in such a serene moment.

•Eric and his mother come toward all of you, both smiling. Liane clutches her purse to her side as Cartman begins rambling about using his "master skills" to convince his mother to get the group ice cream afterwards.

• you smile and close your eyes as you take in the moment.

-TWEEK + CRAIG-

•you had wanted to go to an aquarium for a long time, and going with Tweek and Craig was- well- quite the experience to say the least.

•you swing open the doors, eager to get inside as the sudden noise makes tweek flinch.

•"gAH!" He yelped. Craig- being craig- took his hand and lead him to a tank with a shark inside, swimming around quickly. Tweek only calmed down a bit as you walked into the room. You sit on the outside of the glass dome, still sipping on whichever drink you had chosen from the carnival before.

•it was more- calming than you thought. Only a few families- people- were there and it was quite silent. Children quietly laughing and skipping were heard. You take a deep breath in, and exhale the chilly air of the enclosure. You look over to see tweek and craig holding onto eachother, as they're both completely mesmerized by the shark.

•this is perfect, isnt it?

-end-

ALRIGHT AAAAAAGH THATS IT SO SORRY IF IT WAS BAD BUT I TRIED!! HAVE A STUPENDOUS DAY/NIGHT!!

#south park x reader #south park #craig tucker #tweek tweak #main 4 south park #eric cartman #stan marsh #kyle broflovski #kenny mccormick #liane cartman #JESUS THATS A LOT OF TAGS OMFG #BYE UHM TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF <3

58 notes · View notes

pushing500 · 1 month

Text

Against all odds, asexual Buckeye and reduced-fertility-gene Magic Man have managed to make a baby! However, because Buckeye is Animakin, she needs to plant the baby in soil... And there is no soil in the ocular forest where Monster's Basin is. Only red sand and red dirt and other nasty red stuff, which apparently doesn't count.

So, we have unexpectedly had to up and move in order to give this new baby the best possible chance of survival! We were hoping to be able to prepare a bit more first, but desperate times call for desperate measures. We'll leave everything behind for the sake of one of our own if we must.

However, moving means it's time for another (rather rushed, I'm afraid) colony tour! Presenting: Monster's Basin!!

Here's the whole thing from above. If I had to describe it in one word, I would say "red".

Here is the central room, the kitchen/dining/ritual room. Next to it, we have two bathrooms and our freezer. Magic Man is already packing some of our human leather kneel sheets, as you can see.

Some bedrooms: Top left is Vasso and Laursen's room, top right is Euclid and Socks' room, bottom left is Dire Wolf and Pro (and formerly Bella's) room, and bottom left is Magic Man, Buckeye, and Dopey the razorjack's bedroom.

We also have a small, utilitarian hospital.

Up above the bedrooms and the main room are our dinosaur museum (we can't go without a dinosaur museum) and our research laboratory. Also a better view of the freezer.

Our farms and a huge stack of red bricks that we'll never get to use.

Here's a nutrient-paste barn that we got from a prefab some traders sold us. Mostly so we could see what it was, but our animals seemed to appreciate it.

Bella's room that she was given when she grew up into an adult, the sauna, and Blackdragon, Duchess, and Night Stalker's room.

The wardrobe, the chemfuel room, the miscellaneous devices room, the hot spring, and the small place where we attempted to plant Buckeye's sapling child before we realised it didn't work in this biome.

Finally, our animal pen/archery range. We were very fond of the moose named All-Powerful (she fell out of the sky), but we'll probably release her into the wild (along with a self-tamed hare and three baby wolfchickens some traders gave us) to help us conserve food on our abrupt journey.

And that concludes the tour of Monster's Basin! I wonder where our caravan will take us. Hopefully, somewhere with plenty of fertile soil for a growing sapling child...

First | Next | Previous

43 notes · View notes

flanaganfilm · 1 year

Note

Hey Mike Flanagan! My name is Jaden Benenfeld and I am a huge fan of your work. I am in college right now studying film production so hopefully one day I can work on one of your films. Okay so I have always wanted a fun nick name and I feel like you could come up with a great one for me. Thank you haha!

Let's open it up to the general public - we're gonna need people to vote to figure this out but I think you have a few immediately obvious options: 1) "Jaben". I know, seems too obvious, and you could spell it cool like "Ja-Ben" but it may seem just too clean. I don't know though, probably the best option. People who've known you for a long time will only have to change one letter, and new people will marvel at how cleanly your first and last names fit together.

2) "BenJay". Just a reverse of option one. It's not necessarily uncool to be this close to "Benji", which is obviously a cool name, but it may wander too close to "Bengay", and while pain relieving cream is very useful it does conjure up a specific and potentially unpleasant scent.

3) "J.B." I know, it's a bit lazy writing, even if you spell it out ("Jaybee") but it's what would happen to you if you were a member of a boy band.

4) "Feldster". Out of left field? Yes. But this is what would happen to you if you were a supporting character in an AMERICAN PIE sequel.

5) "K-watt". And you never, ever explain it.

6) "Stormageddon, Dark Lord of All". Tougher to commit to socially, but a downright stupendous reference that will ingratiate you to the right people. If people get the reference, befriend them immediately.

Vote in the comments

189 notes · View notes

ephiesoul · 2 months

Note

Hi Hii! I know I'm EXTREMELY late and I am so so sorry, 2024 is kicking me (and I'm sure a lot, if not most, of us) against a curb, so I understand if you can't get to this request in time or at all especially since it's on such short notice <3 If it's alright, my birthday is on March 5th, and my absolute favorite little guy is Head Engineer Mark! I love all sorts of blues, even yellows, with the thingies I like most being space, dogs, and games (god I love horror games so much, but if it doesn't mash well I also like the ocean and flowers, specifically blue hibiscuses and forget-me-nots). I also really love drawing, although digitally (me and paper don't get along). Again, I'm so sorry for being late and if this is way too long, I've been nervous about asking for and about the birthday event. But that aside, I love your chibis and adore how you improved overtime, hope ya have a fantastic day (and some delicious food, you can never go wrong with that one) and keep up the amazing work!! 🩵💛

Nonsense my friend! if you were extremely late would I have been able to draw 4 different Engineers catered specifically to include everything you mentioned? I think not. ❤️

I hope you (and everyone else) is never nervous to ask for a Chibi, I assure you I’m actually quite friendly ❤️ Thank you very much! You’re to kind. 🖤

🖤 Best wishes, I hope 2024 begins treating you more kindly. Have a Stupendous birthday! 🎂🎉

#chibi #fanart #chibi art #art #markiplier #markiplier fanart #in space with markiplier #happy birthday #have a lovely birthday #do I make people nervous?#I’m really nice tho #head engineer mark #iswm #can you guess the 5 horror games/characters I’m referencing with the plushies?

22 notes · View notes

creative-frequency · 5 months

Text

Astarion x Reader: Contradictions and Other Counter-Measures Ch.3

Summary: A lovely midnight stroll with Astarion, but you stumble upon his secret. Word count: 2224

Previous chapter

CHAPTER 3: Stroll

Another night at camp is bright under the full moon, the surrounding forest is silent and you’re once again dead tired after the day. Even though your body is aching for the rest, your mind stays stubbornly in a state of overdrive. You toss and turn on your bedroll, listening to the distant sounds of the nocturnal wilds. Sleep persistently eludes you, until you decide to stop trying.

After producing a small flame on your palm to light the way, you pick a random direction and start pacing into the nightly forest.

It might not be the best idea to leave Shadowheart and Lae’zel unsupervised at camp. Astarion wouldn’t lift a finger to stop them from strangling each other, but you need to be alone after another long day spent trekking through the wilds. You need to have some space and solitude to think.

It’s already been days but you still haven’t turned. In fact, no one in your little group has any symptoms of ceremorphosis, but you’re not ready to count your blessings yet.

You walk down the forest road, listening to the critters of the night and how they dash into safety at the sounds of your soft footsteps. The moonlight is so bright that you extinguish the flame on your palm; you can see better in the dark without it.

It’s almost unusually calm and silent until you hear the gravel crunch on the dusty road ahead. Immediately, you fall down into a stealthy crouch, trying to see what caused the noise ahead. The best course of action would be to turn around as quietly as possible, but your curiosity wins in the end.

Further away from camp than what is a smart place to be in the dead of night alone, you come across something a little bigger than a critter. For a second you think what you see is a wolf or a small bear, and start raising your hands to sling a cantrip. Then the hunched character turns and stands up, leaving a large furry lump laying in the middle of the road.

For what feels like several minutes, you stare at each other in equal shock. The moonlight makes his silvery white curls glow eerily.

“Astarion? Are you alright?” you utter and begin to walk towards him, relieved that you didn’t come across any predators in the night.

“What are you doing here?” Astarion asks sharply and hastily swipes his face with a handkerchief. “Were you following me?”

His tone stops you in your tracks. All the relief just drains out of you, replaced with anxiety.

“I… had to get some air,” you explain dubiously.

Astarion’s trademark giggle rings in the night, but it’s cold and joyless. The sound makes you shiver.

“Air? Just how is the air at camp amiss, little princess?” he sneers.

You frown at him. You don’t recall giving him a reason for such hostility.

“Seems that you already know since you’re here too,” you retort.

“I’ll ask again, why did you follow me?” Astarion growls in a low tone. He turns slightly so that the moonlight reveals the smudged dark stains on his cheeks.

“For the last time, I didn’t follow you,” you reply, annoyed and confused, but also fear creeping up your spine. Just what in the Hells has happened to him?

“And yet, here you are,” Astarion says softly.

He crouches as he speaks and you’ve seen that motion at least a dozen times now. He is preparing to attack. You have zero idea what is going on, but you suddenly get the sense that you accidentally saw something you shouldn’t have. You can’t come up with any other explanation for Astarion’s behaviour.

Your hands raise up in a surrendering motion – your chances against him in a knife fight are stupendously low. Just as you try to figure out what to say to convince him to drop the dagger, your eyes happen on the thing on the ground. Before you can ask Astarion what in the Nine Hells is the furry lump behind him, it hits you.

It’s a boar. A dead boar.

It’s not even the first of its kind you’ve encountered in a similar state in the past few days. What was it again that Astarion said about the exsanguinated animal?

“It’s been drained of its blood, bitten by a vampire. I didn’t want to say anything to save you from worrying.”

It all makes sense. Of course.

He is always eager to take the night watch, doesn’t even lay a finger on the shared camp supplies and his skin is pale and perfect as smooth alabaster rock.

Astarion is coiled like a spring, ready to pounce on you. His glare is fixated to yours, silently gauging your reaction in every micro-expression. In that moment you also realise his eyes are red. While that is not so rare, the feature completed with his pale countenance is and also, shockingly, perfectly understandable.

“So you’re a vampire,” you huff and feel an unexpected rush of ease.

Astarion’s dagger rests against your throat before you can say another word. His piercing eyes stare intently into yours, so close that you can feel his shallow breath on your cheek.

“How astute,” he comments. The stain on the side of his mouth is indeed blood and in the bright moonlight you actually see his fangs for the first time. You must have been blind – or blinded by his charming mannerisms and elaborate motions.

“I should’ve realised sooner,” you say feeling a bit stupid now that it’s said out loud.

“Not many people do until it’s too late,” Astarion says dryly, dagger still holding fast and his grip keeping you still. “Now, what shall we do about this… pickle we find ourselves in?”

You inhale his scent, a hint of bergamot with strangely earthy undertones. Maybe rosemary? He notices how you relax slightly.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” you ask more curious than worried about the current disposition.

Astarion’s eyes narrow. You continue staring at each other. For a fleeting moment you feel the confusion and relief from his mind colliding with the edges of yours. Then he murmurs apologies and steps back, releasing your shoulder.

“Apologies. I had to know I could trust you first.” He suddenly sounds weary, all the underlying threat gone from his voice.

Your arms fold over your chest. “That’s rich. Do I need to remind you whose dagger has been pointed at my neck several times now?”

Astarions eyes fall down to your neck and shoulders, and you feel like drawing a vampire’s attention to the said area is a bad idea. Luckily for you, Astarion is the perfect gentleman.

“I already apologised,” he points out with a scoff and puts the dagger away.

“Now I get why you were so eager to take the night watch,” you ponder, thinking back to all the other signs you missed.

“Well, I’m still an elf, I don’t sleep,” he replies in a biting tone, looking unamused.

“Right.” You tap your chin and produce another flame to float on your palm. It casts enough light to see his face.

There is a patch of awkward silence until Astarion clears his throat. “For the record, I would’ve trusted you with the knowledge of my… condition. Just… not the others,” he confesses and makes a tiny cough. His eyes dart away from meeting your gaze.

“Oh. Well. Thank you,” you say, a bit taken aback but weirdly somehow pleased. For once, he sounds sincere.

“I suppose you have some questions,” Astarion sighs.

“Just one,” you admit.

He arches one perfectly shaped brow.

“Is this how you’ve been feeding?” You gesture towards the dead boar.

“Yes,” he replies without sparing a glance at the cadaver. When he sees the dismay on your face, he adds: “I’m not some monster. I don’t hunt for the pleasure of killing. I need to feed.”

Feed. The strong word makes you shiver. Just how long did he think he would get away with sneaking off like this in the dead of night? If it was not for your overactive brain that evening, you would be sleeping blissfully, tucked inside your own bedroll at the camp.

“Don’t overthink it, darling,” Astarion says, stopping your train of thought.

“I wasn’t,” you reply, but you both know it’s not exactly the truth.

He examines the look on your face and heaves another sigh.

“I suppose it’s better you found out this way. It’s been difficult to sneak away from camp lately,” he concedes, “Leaving during my watch would mean leaving you defenceless and that’s a risk I seem less willing to take lately.”

“Thanks for being considerate, then,” you say, wondering if he was referencing you as in just yourself or the whole group.

“We should head back. You need to rest,” Astarion says and a tender sensation blooms in the pit of your belly.

“Right, but first…”

He pauses to look at you, a puzzled expression on his face.

“Mind handing your handkerchief to me? You have a bit of, uh, blood here.” You point at the spot around your own face.

“Oh?” He smiles almost gleefully.

You take the offered handkerchief from his fingers and lean towards him to dap clean the rest of the blood. It has already dried so you try to rub it as gently as you can, stepping even closer. Astarion’s gaze softens at your focused face and he keeps perfectly still.

Focusing on the task at hand miraculously keeps you busy enough to not feel awkward or flushed because of the proximity. Still, you surprise yourself thinking how Astarion’s eyes are really pretty. The tender feeling persists. You clear your throat and lean back.

“There, nice and clean.”

His smile has melted into a mild, more genuine one. “Nice? Hmph. I guess I’ll have to take what I can get,” he murmurs.

“You’re a messy eater,” you say and offer the bloodied handkerchief back.

“It’s completely his fault,” Astarion nods towards the boar, “he had difficulties staying dead.” Another high-pitched giggle rings into the night. He sounds more like himself again, more bravado and less sharpness.

As you start walking back to the camp, the night of your first meeting floats back into your mind in the light of this new revelation.

“Tell me something, Astarion. The night we first met in Baldur’s Gate…” You don’t know what exactly it is you want to ask him, but he seems to catch on nevertheless.

Astarion sighs theatrically. “Yes. I was trying to lure you back to my Master. Happy?”

You stop to shoot him a horrified look. “...W-what?”

Astarion continues: “And would have succeeded if the Flaming Fist had not shoved up. Tsk–”

You smack his arm.

“Hells, what is wrong with you?!” he screams and jumps away. A flock of birds takes off from a nearby tree.

“You just admitted to trying to kill me!” you hiss back.

“Not by choice,” Astarion says, pronouncing each word deliberately and clearly.

That shuts you up. Heat rises to burn your face in shame. Undoubtedly, he was not acting on his own free will. He was commanded by someone he served. A thousand questions spring into your head, but you deem it best to keep them unasked for now.

“Sorry,” you swallow.

“Nothing we can do to change that now, darling,” Astarion replies and rubs the spot you hit.

You resume walking. There is an unseen spring in Astarion’s step and you wonder is the main cause for it because he has just fed or because his secret is now shared with someone. The thought brings back a shadow of the tender feeling and you reproach yourself for even thinking you could somehow have such an effect on someone as gorgeous as him.

Astarion lets out a hum as if an idea suddenly occurred to him. You don’t like the smile spreading to his lips. He clears his throat and talks:

“Now that you know my true nature, how about a little–”

You recoil instantly. “Absolutely not. I don’t want to become a vampire.”

Astarion has the audacity to laugh. “I thought you would have already realised that I’m merely a spawn.”

“Oh, I see,” you mumble, failing to see how that justifies his request. Your knowledge of vampires is practically non-existent. There must be a book about them among the ones you’ve hoarded in your backpack.

“I promise you, darling, you will feel just a slight prickle,” Astarion assures, teasing.

“Keep your fangs to yourself, Astarion,” you say in a harsher tone than what you intended.

His smile falters slightly. Or you think it falters since the motion is so insignificant that you could have imagined it in the light of the flickering flame.

“Of course. Silly of me to even ask.”

As soon as you hear the dejection in his voice, you regret refusing him outright. He has been managing this far, so it’s not your responsibility to feed him. If he truly needed blood, he would ask sincerely. That is what you tell yourself, but at the same time wonder when ever has Astarion been truly sincere with anyone.

“You’d best prepare yourself for the morning,” you say with a sigh.

Astarion raises a brow. “For what?”

“You will have to tell the others.”

Next chapter

My Writing Masterlist

#astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion fanfic #astarion #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #fanfiction #contradictions and other counter measures

33 notes · View notes