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#I just love reader's personality here
tiyoin · 2 months
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I ate your heart
warnings: graphic description of: violence, SA, gore, mentions of cannibalism, murder, reader almost gets graped, alcoholism*, manipulation, ‘victim blaming,’ unhealthy coping mechanisms, dark content - alastor and readers relationship is up for interpretation
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dawg imagine you get killed by yan human alastor.🫣
like you’re thinking that you’ll finally be safe in the afterlife, hoping that you got a spot in heaven. (yet apparently, premarital sex would automatically remove your spot in line for a chance at salvation)
blasphemy does those kinda things🤷🏻
doesn’t matter if you lived as a nun. helping sinners see the light and righteousness of god. doesn’t matter if you fed por hand your entire life. or even if you solved the trolly problem.
one toe out of line, and your ass is grass.
so you’re in hell. if you knew you’d be going to hell you would’ve done a lot worse things in your human life for more power.
imagine living on the low, yeah you’ve killed people, maybe even took a soul or two. but it’s nothing to brag about, especially compared to the over lords.
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very important note at the end.
1-800-662-4357 - addiction hotline.
-
by pressing ‘read more’ you have consented to reading this.
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just a few years into your stay they started going missing. one, by one.
there was a whisper in the wind, a chill in the air as everyone had this impending sense of dread as a new over lord would be found almost daily. ripped to shreds, horribly mutilated, with missing limbs and ginormous bite marks that would open the food gates for intestines to spill out and pool around them.
sometimes there were no intestines at all.
or a body.
yet there was always a new broadcast
it wasn’t an exaggeration that everyone has been looking over their shoulders whenever the shadows looked a bit longer than usual. when the air starting churning and crackling. when the sudden sound of screaming ripped through the air. it was a natural hell-born reflex to flinch at the slightest noise of static.
a conditioning technique his radio broadcasts seemed to involuntarily instill on sinners.
you’ve never seen this so called ‘radio demon’ in person before. well, barely have been able to escape him and tell the tale so you weren’t sure what to look for.
or look out for. all you knew is that his name was alastor. and that whenever you heard that name you blood ran cold and your body stiffened.
tour mind would ring and your head would pound as you try to remember just where you’ve heard that name before.
yet your memory always failed you.
but alcohol never did.
seated at a bar as noisy club music blasted, you trace your finger longingly on the rim of your shot glass. eyes already drooping as your wrist which was keeping your head propped up started to ache.
you wouldn’t call yourself an alcoholic per say. more of a,,, continuous connoisseur. which was surprising due to the  hellish prices on everything here.
it’s not eternal damnation unless there’s a 5% sales tax plus gruitivity.
so instead of working your ass off to make a living, you’ve decided: ‘hey, it’s hell! i can do whatever i want (to an extent) and so i choose to scam men!!’
with every new bar came a new rotation of men looking to take up the empty seat next to you. you puffed your chest as you recalled a few women and non conforming folks take the seat sometimes.
you always made sure to… entertain them.
feeling a familiar pit in your stomach, you pause your hand. the coldness of the shot glass cooling your hot lips as the animal man next to you howls with laughter. the alcohol hitting his system like a firecracker.
and like clock work, his hand slipped around your waist, as he whispered filthy nothings you didn’t bother to catch, having heard it all before. even the sweet begging to take out to one of the many sex rooms the club has.
yet he dragged you towards the exit.
and you allowed him.
you thought it comically ironic that you were doing just the thing that punched your ticket down here.
the bitter cold nipped at your skin and tickled your brain. you were always so confused with the temperature of hell. freezing at night, scorching during the day.
even he’ll hated the homeless. who knew 🤷🏻
in the alley next to the club the animal man was biting and clawing at you. panting and speaking gibberish as his clumsy movements seemed to cause a new line of blood on your skin. you couldn’t do much to stop it.
limbs and eyes heavy as you tried focusing on him, on his wandering hands, his filthy mouth.
you wanted to go home.
he favored ignoring your sluggish mumbling and groans to comment about ‘wanting to fuck you nice and hard, giving you a few kits to remember him by.’
your clothes were practically in shreds. the chill in the air adding a faux impression of clarity as your arms started to weakly bang against him.
you didn’t even think he noticed as your fists wouldn’t even make it to his chest. you were so weak right now.
the only reason you weren’t crumpled on the ground as because he were pinning your entire body to the wall.
yet the inconsistent grip he had on you caused you to ping pong a bit.
“s stowp” you slurred, head lolling down as you felt his claws stop momentarily. he let out a cackle that rang through your eyes and rattled your brian stem.
fuck. you hissed. this is gonna one shit of a hang over
the drunk broke your thoughts as he continued his drunken rambles.
“the moment you took the sshhhot” spit flew in your face “i paid for… you were mine” he pushed his face in your neck, the hotness of his breathe sending distressed shivers down your body. urging your body to WAKE UP
yet he kept you pinned. you head looked to the side when tears started streaming down your face and with a big, slimy lick he greedily lapped them up.
you started struggling once his claws moved to your legs.
fuck fuck fuck you fucked up. you fucked up. why did you think this was a good idea, you knew something bad was going to happen. why didn’t you just listen to your gut. why didn’t you just take his watch and turn to the next man. why did you entertain him.
why did you let him buy you that drink.
“angel shot” had different meanings for the orderer.
if a woman ordered it, then security would either beat the shit or kill the demon she pointed out. (whether the staff respected women or just wanted an excuse to get blood on their hands, was a topic you often avoided thinking about)
but, if a man orders it… he wants to take a woman to the heavenly gates of sovereignty himself.
that last part is often open to interpretation.
nothing ever got done about these drinks. you were in hell after all. you think the politicians would ban something they invited?
the sting of his drool on an open, bloody bite mark on your collarbone ripped you from the sanctuary of your minds palace as his glowing yellow pierced into yours.
in an instant you felt nails digging into the flesh of your bruised and battered neck. blood dripped from your neck and onto your body as he squeezed harder.
black spots danced across your vision, followed by white, then purple, then red.
“help” you choked out, head lolling to the alley way as people walked by, not even phased. it was just an average day in hell after all.
the arm that wasn’t trying to put distance between you and him was heavily reaching out towards the street. hoping anyone, anything would come save you from your fuck up.
“get ready to meet god, bitch” he growled, hands-
there was a squelching noise as his breathe stilled. you dropped to the ground, hard. as he let go of you. his clawed hands fell limp to his sides. his face was blank as he staggered back.
“w-what” he stuttered, arms shakily moving to his stomach- well, what used to be his stomach- as a black tendril was impaling him.
you couldn’t move, couldn’t even stand or lift your eyes to see the scene before you. your heart beat was slow, yet thunderous in your ears. it’s thump almost made you miss the pleading, miss the screams of absolute anguish as the sound of flesh tearing and static and laughter filled the air. miss the way his head rolled in your direction before a dark, clawed hand reached from the hands and snatched it back.
it felt like hours before someone came up to you. but realistically, it was only a few seconds before you felt something hard and metal touch your head. only for the oddly shaped stick to wrap around your hair and yank your head up.
you groaned at the pain, eyes droopy as you struggled to stay conscious. you wouldn’t have been able to fight even if you wanted to.
paralyzing fear that washed over you like a tsunami, RUN. a voice spoke. yet you couldn’t even breath automatically. that job becoming harder and harder with each passing second. you couldn’t forget about the possibility of broken bones after… your viscous assault.
so you had no choice but to stay pliant to the new player in the game. 
“well well well” your eyes snapped up, your eyes met the abyss as a ferocious, crazed grin greeted you.
“it seems you carried over that habit of keeping… bad company he mused. although there was a hint of amusement in his radio voice, you knew there was nothing to laugh about.
he sighed before picking up the demons decapitated head by his hair. pushing it toward your face you were forced to smell him.
he pulled his staff- you- closer to the head, your upper body twisted uncomfortably as you were almost nose to nose with you.
a whine left your throat as alastor face came into your peripheral vision.
“what’s wrong? i thought you two were in the middle of something! but all means continue, i would hate to intrude”
he wasn’t talking about tonight. you knew that.
you felt your consciousness slip for a moment, only for a moment as a sharp sting penetrate your skull.
in a moments time the head was gone, but it was replaced by a dreaded sense of dejavú.
your brows widened as the face of pure, unadulterated fear contorted onto your face.
his grin only seemed to widen as his eyes crinkled harder.
“it seems someone remembers something. tell me miss y/n” he leaned closer, some kind of indigenous symbols started to crackle and float around him.
“tell me what you remember” he sneered, radio voice growling as his horn stretched out longer than before.
your mouth was dry, yet your tears were bountiful as your body’s natural reactions took over.
you were petrified. alastor knew this as you inhaled the intoxicating scent of terror that cling to you like perfume as you struggled to speak.
he hummed in what sounded like disappointment. but you were never sure what he was feeling as that damned smile was always glued on his face. even now.
he stepped away as he dropped your head, luckily your arms were positioned as the perfect pillow for your head to fall onto.
“since that cat has clearly stolen your tongue” he mused, briefly looking to the furry body he just… exterminated. he got bigger. horns growing even linger from his head, like branches from a tree, his already deformed limbs cracked and snapped like twigs as they went in all they grew longer, and larger in thr wrong directions.
you hadn’t thought it possible, but his smile grew larger, sharper as more teeth were revealed. pointy, yellow stained teeth with chunks of flesh and fur still in them smiled at you.
you were scared.
scared for you life-
your soul.
you wanted an escape.
giving up on physical escape meant the only place safe was your mind. yet even there he still resides.
yet his limbs weren’t twisted and broken, his voice wasn’t shrouded in statics and his hair most certainly wasn’t red.
you gasped.
alastor.
his face deepened.
“so you’ve remembered…”
you were shaking, visibly shaking as you saw two of him.
one with full teeth and brown eyes and hair… the other…
monstrous, nightmarish. hell-ish
why’d you think you could escape him, why’d you think you’d get mercy in your afterlife, when you didn’t revive any in your past life.
you didn’t wanna die by the same man twice.
alastor, who could practically read your mind inched his face down further
“don’t worry little one, i do not plan on making the same mistake twice.” like a flicker of a candle his demonic form turned into his human form. though you must have imagined or hallucinated it. as the thing was still there.
yet with each passing moment his horns subdued into his head. his grin downgraded into a smile as the symbols slinked out of existence one by one.
“i was quite… emotional back then.” he pet your hair, instantly stopping your shaking. he pretended it wasn’t because you were scared stiff.
“i didn’t know how to react when i heard you had a midnight rendezvous with the librarians son. it broken my heart” he sniffles, eyes slowly turning back into red slits.
“it saddened me, woed me to do what i had to do.” he sighed. you felt a punch to your gut as his personality did a compete 180.
“i never wanted to… yet you left me in a tricky situation” he shook his head sadly, palm against his cheek to empathize his sadness.
“but!” he said, a smile on his face as he pointed up. “i know it wasn’t your fault, that boy had been ogling you far too long so i did the only thing i thought that was fitting.”
his free hand opened his palm, showing you a faux image of smoke and mirrors, a woman and a man.
they looked around before they noticed each other. you could tell what their relationship was by how they ran to each other.
before they could reach each other, he crumpled his fist, nails digging into his glove as his slits narrowed.
“i ate you heart”
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1-800-662-4357 - addiction hotline.
*as the author I feel obligated to write this : reader is an alcoholic but they can’t see that they are. due to having friends struggle with this i’m telling you guys straight out. that reader is addicted to alch so that part isn't up to interpretation. it’s very serious and very isolating, please think about your friends and families before you go down this path. voluntarily or involuntarily. addiction isn’t fun or even remotely ‘cool.’ the more serious talks we have about addiction instead of crossing it out as 'something only dirty people do' and start seeing it for the monster it truly is; is the day we will get as a society. although i didn’t struggle with alcohol addiction, i was victim to another kind that plagues me to this day, so please take my advice and make smart choices.
this also extends to self destructive behaviors, like what reader is doing
personally, i think alastor is some kind of ace / demiromantic
out of all the things I was gonna write to come back, I never would've thought it was gonna be a hazbin hotel imagine. let alone an alastor x reader one.
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fumifooms · 3 months
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Chilchuck analysis speedrun: As a hardworking half-foot who grew up poor and discriminated against and had his gullibility taken advantage of multiple times in his early adventuring days, Chilchuck thinks optimism is a dangerous flaw. He’s stressed and strict all the time because his job is noticing details like traps that could get everyone killed before anyone knows it, he takes the lives of everyone to be on his shoulders, and with the way he speaks about it that probably partly reflects how he felt about taking it upon himself to provide for his family too. His life’s always been pretty centered around work and has become even moreso now that his wife left and everyone is independent, and due to past events he’s very iffy with bonding with coworkers. He thinks feelings and job are a disaster mix. Like with his wife or with parties hiring him as sacrifice, being open or having good faith is vulnerability which can get you hurt, so he processes and shows all his stress as anger instead of worry. Doing strict dieting probably isn’t helping the irritability what with hunger, and on top of being a hunger suppressant alcohol might be the main stress reliever he has.
His grey hairs are so earned
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#Chilchuck tims#dungeon meshi#analysis#HAPPY CHILCHUCK DAY#You know what yeah understandable have a good day#Alcohol be a ticket straight to chilling out town I suppose#Spoilers#dungeon meshi manga spoilers#Thinking on if I should split my family masterpost into diff posts for max reach hmm#Anyways I’m def editing in the second page into that post that “I’ve got three people to think of here” sounds sooo much like that’s#How he’d think about it in a family setting as well. He works so hard for them 🥺#I could have put 100 pics on this post to justify everything I mentioned but this is a speedrun for a reason. I’m planning so many#Compilations rn i need a break from rereading lol#He’s just here to do his work!! He just wanna do his work!!!#I’m always rotating him in my brain like rotisserie chicken :( Hopefully this doesn’t sound disjointed or insane to average readers#He’s always on his guard so he has a short fuse and his type of humor & liking for snarky remarks doesn’t help#Also bc he knows nothing lasts he has a very work hard play hard mentality where ‘dying doing something you love. Like drinking’#Is nice in his opinion#This post makes it all sound so dry. Chilchuck is so messy thinking about him is thrilling I swear. This is concise but at what cost…#OH ALSO he has weird self-hate issues where he really values his skills but devalues himself on a personal level.#‘I am a coward. I only care about myself. I cheated on my wife (lying for no reason)’ etc etc#Can’t disappoint people and make them leave you if they already have no expectations and esteem of you 😏💡
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ghost-proofbaby · 2 months
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OH SAY LESS 14 WITH ASTARION PLEASE
so this is my first time publicly writing and posting astarion, so please be gentle. higher word count solely because i felt the need to add lore because, ya know, first time writing him! also, i changed the line just a tiny bit to better fit the character and scene. ALSO, uh... this is a little fade to black. i'm sorry. it just got too long.
14. "Oh, you're hard to please."
warnings: foreplay, sorta fade to black smut (it's there if you squint your eyes), an ungodly amount of pet names, mentions of past sexual abuse and healing from it, technical game spoilers, not edited, 18+ so minors do not interact
pairings: astarion x afab!reader (no pronouns used)
wc: 4.4k+
join the smutty party! send me one of these smut dialogue prompts with a character
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How long had it been since Astarion had actually enjoyed sex? Craved it, even? 
If he recalls correctly, it had to have started to become tainted well over a century ago. Somewhere between the first and the third victim, when he’d realized how every single beautiful soul he had entrapped were simply being lured to their own death. And then, the sour taste left in his mouth only became more pungent the longer it went on, the more he came to the realization of just how used he felt. His body was no longer his own – it technically hadn’t been his from the very second he’d emerged from his own grave, and Cazador had been waiting for him – and everything about the act became an old rehearsed dance that he’d grit his teeth through. A chore, something to make his stomach churn, something to regret. A means to an end. 
Plainly put, it had been a while. 
But then you happened. You, who hadn’t blinked an eye when the first time you met him, he’d literally threatened you with a gods damned blade to your throat. You, who had repeatedly trusted him, even when it had been an objectively stupid thing to do. You, who had always offered him the utmost patience and genuine understanding, to the point in which if he thought about it too hard, he’d probably cry. You, who had led your group of misfits with brain worms right into victory, with plenty of personal demons defeated along the way. 
Personal demons including Cazador. 
Maybe that’s when things changed for Astarion. He’d already fallen for you before your group had reached Baldur’s Gate, he’d already gotten to know your body intimately before ever laying eyes on that ridiculously oversized brain you somehow made look easy to defeat. But that had been different, hadn’t it? He hadn’t really wanted to do that (not meant as an offense to you – certainly not after all was said and done), but had thought he needed to. To gain your trust, to gain your protection. And in the end, it turned out he never needed to do such a thing. You’d never said it outloud, probably at risk of making him feel even more regret after you’d learned all his secrets and darkest corners, but he knew. 
And knowing that you didn’t view him as something purely sexual, as a means to an end, as an item to use – well, it had the opposite effect of his request to no longer be viewed in that light. 
“What are you doing?” he says as he quickly looks up from his current book he’d been pursuing the moment you’d entered the room. He hardly cared for the words on the page – he just needed a way to pass the hours until you were available again. 
It was a hard habit to kick. Being so codependent on you, even with the end of the world resolved and the gift of safety being handed over to him on a silver platter. 
“We received mail,” you’re grinning wickedly as you hold up an embellished envelope, delicate fingers pinching the parchment as if it were the greatest gift to ever exist. He’d argue the real gift at hand was the last three months – time spent with you, in a place he can call home. But nothing could impede on your good mood as you throw yourself down on the mattress beside him, “From Withers, of all people!” 
His brows shoot up for just a moment before his face twists up with something akin to distrust, “Withers? What in the Hells does that sack of dust and bones wan-” 
“A reunion,” you cut him off, the look on your face warning enough against his attempt at an insult. “He’s reaching out to all of us to bring us together for a celebration, to check in on everyone, let us see each other again. Apparently, we were the easiest of the bunch to find.”
Astarion quickly lets out a tut as he snaps the book shut and discards it on the bedside table closest to him, “Well, we certainly need to fix that. Soon enough all of those little shits are going to end up on our doorstep, preaching about the power of friendship and how they want to check in on us.” 
You snort at that, laying flat on your back with your hair wildly spread out in a makeshift halo behind you. The sight causes something to stir within him, his gut twisting as he watches the way your knees knock together before slowly falling apart, your legs settling down as flat as the rest of your body.
He hadn’t taken you since that night at his grave. Before the epic final battle, before the two of you had made the decision to settle down somewhere for some well-earned peace and quiet. 
The moonlight dances past the open curtains, and his breath catches in his throat at the way the blue shadows dance across your skin. It almost reminds him of the first time he’d seen you fight. It hadn’t just been the blood splattered across your cheeks that had really gotten the better of his curiosity (even if that’s what he had told you when you asked), it had been the sunlight. Those rays of gold that had mingled with your own aura of warmth after you had helped the tieflings for the first time. 
You put the sun to shame, truly. And he missed it – Gods, did he miss it – but he was content to bask in the peace of night for a few months more before he finally cut you loose from the leash to begin your next phase of adventures to find him a cure. You had promised him you would, had already dedicated plenty of free time to research, and all you really needed was his word to begin. 
He’s selfish. The two of you can find a way for him to walk in the sun once more another day; all he wants right now is to bury himself in your warmth, to slot his body between your thighs, to hear every breathy gasp and the way you’d practically sing his name-
“Star?” you’re looking up at him from an awkward angle, eyes owlish and chin tilted painfully far back as you clearly await an answer to a question he’d been too lost in a daydream to overhear, “Did you hear me?” 
He clears his throat and adjusts the pillows behind his back, keeping him propped up as he admires you, “Of course I did, darling.” 
“Then what did I just say?”
“Something about how we’re absolutely not going to this reunion, yes?” 
Your smile is nothing but patient as you flip onto your stomach. He watches the way your shorts ride up your thighs, how the top of the soft fabric bunches at your waist. His fingers practically twitch with the need to weasel their way under it, to press his cold fingertips into warm flesh and hear you preen. 
Whenever you’re ready, you had whispered to him one night shortly after saving the world. Just tell me when, and I’m yours. 
He was ready. Insatiably ready, really. 
“Very funny. I said we should go, though. It’d be nice to see everyone again, wouldn’t it? All our friends?” 
You’re still talking about this damned reunion. Astarion has half the mind to figure out a way to summon the insufferable skeleton right here, right now, and drive a dagger into his bones until he’s truly nothing but dust. Solely for the distraction. 
“Your friends, my dear,” he corrects gently, “We both know they’re only overly fond of one of us in this relationship, and it certainly isn’t the one that they repeatedly threatened to stake.” 
The furrow of your brows is impossibly cute – he knows that look of determination. It’s the same one you wore when he mentioned it was likely that the two of you would never find a cure to his condition. 
“Our friends,” you insist, “Karlach adores you, Star. And Wyll has always been proud of you, whether he told you as much or not.”
“And what of Gale?” 
Your lips twitch at that, “Gale… certainly wouldn’t stake you on sight.”
“Ah, yes,” he flourishes, trying to keep his eyes from wandering anywhere but where your hands press into your cheeks as you prop your face up to speak to him, “Not staking me. The ultimate sign of kinship.” 
Focusing is a losing battle when you roll your eyes, and he finds his mind overtaken with insatiable lust again. Imaginative ways that he could have your eyes rolling for him under different circumstances. 
“You’re not getting out of this. They are your friends just as well as mine – so argue all you want, but we’re going to the reunion.” 
“Are you sure there’s no other way I might be able to…” he pauses with intent, finally lifting one of his docile hands to your cheek, letting his finger graze the skin with a feather light touch before it travels back into the mess of your hair, “Persuade you otherwise?” 
You almost fall for it, too. Your eyes flutter shut, your head tilts into his touch as if you were starved for the connection. But even with the lack of sexual intimacy, you both know there hasn’t been a day that has gone by in the last three months where Astarion hasn’t found a way to get his hands on you.
Holding your own, resting his cheek on your shoulder, spinning you like a child in the kitchen – he had quite the sudden arsenal of romantic gestures that didn’t involve old wounds. It had been awkward here and there, some of them landing and some of them leaving you both looking like fools, but he was trying.
Almost as hard as he was currently trying to not jump your bones. 
When you recognize the innuendo for what it is, however, you harden immediately. Your shoulders set, a frown settles, and your eyes open with set determination he knows he can’t falter without speaking plainly to you. 
“No.”
“No?”
You’re quick to lift yourself up onto your knees, putting distance between yourself and his hands, “The days of weaponizing sex are over. I don’t even want to joke about that.” 
And, oh, he’s finding himself in quite the mood tonight, because as soon as you’re retracting, he’s following. As you settle on the haunches of your calves, he’s lifting up from his reclined position, leaning forward so that his face is breaths away from yours. 
“I mean it,” you warn, narrowing your eyes and holding up a finger in that small space between you two. 
He tests his luck, wasting no time in snapping his fangs just millimeters from your skin. You both know he wouldn’t actually bite you, but it still humors him to see the way you whip your hand out of his reach. 
“Were you not the one who insisted that we ask before we bite?” you snap, and his smile only worsens. Like a cheshire cat, like a child never scorned by the world – he’s radiant and basking in the moment. 
He lets out a small hmph before saying, “You’re no fun, my dear. Come on – just play with me for a moment, won’t you?” 
Your face softens at his teasing tone, and he can see the way he’s withering away your defenses one by one. There was once a time where he’d done it with malicious intent, but this time around, it’s with nothing but good intentions. 
If you asked him, he’d go as far as to swear it on his own grave. 
“I’m sorry,” you apologize as if you’d done something wrong, and it makes more than half of his own playfulness drain from his face in absolute displeasure. Before he can so much as open his mouth to scold you about unnecessary apologies, you’re continuing on, “I just… After everything we’ve been through, it’s not something I find particularly joyous to joke about.”
What a rare thing, to have found someone to bare your soul and all your burdens to, and watch them offer to help you shoulder the weight without second thought or regret. 
He’s never met someone like you in all his years, and he might never again. 
“And if I told you I wasn’t joking?” he asks slowly, carefully, trying to choose each word with the utmost care, “I’m not weaponizing – I’m offering.” 
Whenever you’re ready. Just tell me when, and I’m yours.
He was ready. Very, desperately, sorely ready. 
The topic of the reunion is all but forgotten as you process his words, nose twitching as you decipher all that’s he laying out before you. “I want more than an offer.” 
“Excuse me?” 
He can’t help the small laugh that leaves him as he sits up properly, leaning into your space fully now with one hand pressing into the mattress just beside one of your thighs. He can feel the heat radiating from you, smell your blood rushing to your head as you try to be sensible. It’s a pitiful excuse for an internal war; all he has to do is close that conveniently small distance between your lips with his own, and you’ll have lost all sense of logic. 
“You’re…” you trail off, searching his eyes as if he holds the answer you’re currently looking for, “You’re sacred to me, Astarion. You must know that. And it will take much more than some joking offer to convince me to have sex with you when I know-”
“I’m not joking,” he’s nearly whining, letting his forehead fall forward to press to yours, “Gods, I am not joking about this. Cross my heart and hope to die again.” 
If he has to beg, he will. 
He’s spent two hundred years in an insufferable position of pure misery, pure shit, and the realization that he’s finally free has everything clicking into place. Proof of the change exists solely in the fact that he could have resorted to his tired old seduction routine from his life before to get what he wanted, but instead, he’s trying to just communicate. 
It was a novel moment. 
But he could appreciate it later, when the crotch of his pants wasn’t becoming increasingly uncomfortably tight and he wasn’t watching you closer than prey. When his stomach wasn’t so tight with desire and anticipation, just waiting for your word to indulge. 
“Do I need to beg?” he sighs, his lips brushing against yours ever so slightly from proximity. He catches the shiver that runs up your spine. “We both know I’m not particularly fond of it, but if I have to get on my knees for you- well, actually, that’s the entire point of what I’m asking.” 
You laugh at that, and his gut twists again, because it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever had the opportunity to hear. Something more breath than any vocality, something sharp and spelling out the loss of words on your tongue. 
Your silence is enough for him to push it all a step further. Forehead still leaning against yours, he properly presses his lips to yours this time, slotting them between softer than a feather’s caress. Finding home as he can physically feel himself steal your breath away. His fangs just barely nip your bottom lip, unintentionally but still eliciting a delicious reaction of a gasp that makes him graze you a second time just to feel the way you’re leaning into him more, becoming absolute putty in his hands. Pliable for his taking, and Gods, he wants to take you. 
Something snaps. 
All hesitation has vanished as he grabs at your hips quickly, making use of the way your brain has gone blank from a simple kiss in order to lay you out below him. He moves you with ease, incredible speed in slotting himself between your legs before he’s caging your entire body in with his own. The squeak that leaves your lips from his manhandling affects him even more than your gasps had, a low growl shaking his chest as he kisses you deeper. Tasting, begging, searching – he wants this, but he needs to know that you want this just as badly. 
Your hands find purchase on each of his shoulders, squeezing tightly as if needing something to tether yourself to. You pull him in closer for a second, eagerly returning the kiss, almost feverish in the way you drink him in. But the next, you’re pushing him away, a game of want and sensibility still clouding your judgment impossibly. 
You always were stubborn about things like morals. And, well, it wasn’t very moral to just jump right into sex with your traumatized boyfriend who had explicitly said not to view him in terms of sex, was it? 
It was Astarion’s own damn fault. 
He could have just acted like a normal person, initiated a normal conversation in which he renegotiated his boundaries. But you’ve been on his mind all day, and he’s long since proven since the very day that you met him that he has little to none impulse control. 
“My, my,” he murmurs, pulling back from the kiss, eyes wild, looking at you with even more hunger than he had the first night you’d given him a taste of your blood in camp, “You’re just an impossible thing to please, aren’t you? Do you want me near, do you want me far? Tell me, my love, what do you want?” 
He settles all his weight onto one of his forearms as the other slowly brings his hand to your side, caressing over the soft fabric of your shirt – a shirt he’s quickly realizing is actually his own. He recognizes those flowy sleeves, that lacing across the chest, the off-white tone that had seen better days. Given all its wear and tear, he’s almost sure that it’s one of his shirts he had grown most comfortable wearing during the nights of your adventures against the Netherbrain. 
It’s cute. A sort of domesticity that he can ponder over later, when your legs aren’t hanging on his hips and your breaths aren’t coming out staccato as he hovers just out of reach from you. 
“I want whatever you want,” you whisper. Your eyes flutter open, looking at him with pupils so dilated they could swallow him whole. 
“Let me be very clear, then,” he hums, cold fingers creeping their way to the hem of the shirt, slipping beneath with practiced ease to find the smooth skin of your hips below. They dance and skitter up, up, up until he’s brushing against your ribs, “I want you. I want that warm cunt of yours, I want to feel every gasp and breath as your walls squeeze around me. I want to fuck you until you’re unable to walk on your own two legs, until you can only remember my name. I want to watch you come undone, my dear, and for it to be my own undoing.”
Your lips quiver in anticipation, and he feels your thighs tighten their hold on him, “Such pretty words. And… and no ulterior motives? No sense of obligation?” 
“None at all,” he smiles, a predator closing in on his prey, “I’m choosing this. If you want it, if you’ll have me, then I’m ready, pet.” 
Pet. The nickname rolls off his tongue, and he can imagine your walls fluttering just as your eyes do. 
Your hands lift from his shoulders to bury in his hair instead. One cradling the back of his head, the other resting on the nape of his neck as you toy with a snowy curl. It unfurls him further, has him humming lowly as he dips down to recapture your lips and bring you into him even closer. Closer. He needs all and any space between the two of you to become nonexistent. To feel every inch of your skin pressed to his, to allow you to physically curl up into his chest just as you had his mind all those moons ago, to make a home in a room with your name on it already somewhere between his third and fourth rib. 
“Do you really have to doubt if I’ll have you, my love?” you mutter against his mouth, smile breaking the kiss momentarily before he’s back with a vengeance. You don’t care – you’re apparently in a chatty mood, dodging his kiss to get your last words in, “There’s been a space in my heart for you since the moment I first met yo-”
“Yes, yes, very romantic,” he interrupts urgently, suddenly tugging your shirt up, “But, truth be told, love? I’m hoping there’s a space between your legs for me at this moment.” 
You snort, eyes pinched shut as you attempt to shake your head at the ridiculousness of the words that just left his mouth. At any other moment, you might point out how the outrageous comment is just another defense mechanism, veering him away from having to acknowledge the gentle sentiment behind your own words, but now’s not the time. When you open your mouth, probably to say something exactly along those lines, he rolls his hips down against yours, pinning your lower half deep into the mattress. You feel just how hard he is through his trousers – it’s impossible to miss, but he’s deliberating being sure that you feel it as he lets the tips of his fangs sink into your bottom lip. 
The resolve of fighting against his wishes is quickly dissolved. One thing after another, and Astarion has you bare beneath him before any other distractions or annoying conversation can send the two of you further off track. Your, his, shirt is tossed to one side of the room. Your parents fly to the other side of the bed. Only once he has the entire spanse of your body nude and vulnerable to him does he take the time to pause, to look down at you with absolute adoration. 
“Gods, you’re beautiful.” 
He’s said those words to you a million times before. Consistently greeting you with them, muttering them in the dead of night, whispering them as he kisses you awake. But they never lose their weight. And certainly not now, as he’s looking down at you like it’s the first time he’s ever seen that freckle on your chest or the curve of your stomach barren before him. 
“Please, if you’re comfortable with it…” you start, voice laced with desperation, but he shakes his head. 
He’s full of interruptions tonight, “Consider me comfortable with anything unless stated otherwise for this moment, my sweet.” 
“Take off your clothes, Astarion.”
His giddy smile should annoy you. That smug satisfaction in finally, finally getting his way as he undresses himself at almost twice the speed that he had stripped you. And yet he knows you’re enjoying yourself just as much as he is. You’re reveling in drinking in the bare caricatures of his body, every inch and every curve exposed to you just as you are to him. And when his cool skin meets yours again, his body sinking right into that space between your thighs that you’ve granted to him, you let out a short gasp that reminds him that you want this just as badly as he does.
You’ve waited just as long as he has. 
It almost mirrors that night on his grave. The slow descent of his body against yours, the way he slides a leg up to spread your own even further for him as he crawls his way back home to your lips. Unlike that night, however, he isn’t taking quite as much care, his movements far faster and far more needy. 
He’s been waiting long enough. He’s denied himself long enough. 
It really doesn’t matter when the last time he had enjoyed sex had been, because all that he cares about is that here and now, in this moment with you, there’s not a trace of imperfections to taint his enjoyment. 
Cazador is dead. The brain has long since been defeated. You are both safe. 
As he sinks into your heat, the only thing on his mind is that contentment, overwhelmed with the feel and smell of just you. 
He’ll never be a slave again. Never be viewed as something to simply be used and disregarded again, if you have any say. And one day, some day, he’ll even feel the warmth of the sun again. Thanks to you.
But until that day, the warmth of your love is enough.
When you sigh his name out so delicately, jaw all but unhinging itself in bliss as your back arches in reaction to his touches, he knows he’s made the right choice. 
And he supposes he lied, in a way, earlier. 
You’re not that hard to please – not when it comes to him, at least. Not when it’s his hands trailing along your skin, not when it’s his lips and fangs nipping at every opportunity. And certainly not when it’s his name that’s being chanted like a prayer from your lips in time with every thrust, every stroke, every single movement with the sole purpose of making both of you come undone. 
Astarion no longer questions when the last time he enjoyed sex was in the aftermath of it all. With you, pressed into his side, sweaty forehead nuzzling his chest, the only thing he cares about is the next time he’ll be able to do so. 
“We’re still going to that reunion,” you murmur, half asleep, fading away from him quickly to fall into blissful unconsciousness. 
He almost doesn’t breathe in fear of disturbing you. He’ll waste the night away, laying here, still as a statue for your comfort. 
It’s no surprise when he refuses to put up a fight, instead his hand simply drawing soft stars across the back of your bare shoulder blades as he sighs, “Yes, dear. We will. Now sleep.”
“I love you.” 
The words tumble from your lips so carelessly, so easily and without hesitation, he nearly shakes you awake to hear them once more. Again and again, he needs to hear them, to be reassured that you feel for him as ardently as he does you. 
But he has the rest of your forever to hear them. So he lets you sleep, sending you away with a simple press of his lips to your temples as your breathing evens.
“And I love you, my dearest sun.”
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jadewritesficshere · 8 months
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Insecurity 18+only
Steve Harrington x female!reader
shoutout to all my girlies who are self conscious about their chests.
Synopsis: You feel insecure about your boobs, but Steve shows you there is nothing to be insecure about 18+ ONLY
Contents: negative body image (descriptive about insecurities, self depreciating thoughts), pet names (Honey, Beautiful), groping, unprotected p in v (YALL PLEASE WRAP IT UP), creampie
The gnawing despair and shame that had started earlier in the night had continued to grow, becoming like lead in your stomach. It was movie night at the Harrington residence. As was the tradition after saving the world once or twice, the young adults would get together and watch a movie, eat pizza, and smoke if you felt so inclined.
Tonight was Eddie's pick, some B horror movie. You hadn't really paid attention, more focused on watching Nancy and Steve talking. The despondent feeling had started then, even if you knew they no longer had feelings for each other, you felt insecure. You felt as though you couldn't compare to Nancy. You loved Nancy, she was amazing. Hell, you weren't sure if you wanted to be her or be with her.
But you definitely knew you liked Steve. You hadn't even told Steve of your feelings for him, having your heart ripped out as you watched him go out on many dates, and feeling like an asshole for being glad they didn't end well.
The feeling grew as the movie started. Robin and Eddie, taking their roles as film critics seriously, talked about the techniques being used and made comments throughout. Nancy told them to hush many times, but they ignored her. It wasn't until one of the female characters had her shirt ripped open, causing her bare chest to be on display, that caused silence to occur. Her breasts were bigger than yours and perfectly even and round. Nipples that were hardened and like a beacon your eyes drifted to. Her breasts swayed in an almost hypnotizing way as she ran. You would have been the first to admit they were attractive.
"Damn," one of the guys had muttered, causing you to look over. Eddie's eyes were glued to the TV and for once he was silent.. Robin was blushing and her mouth was dropped open. Steve shifted on the couch, his hand going to adjust- oh.
Your stomach dropped and you felt like your veins had turned to ice. Of course this is what Steve would like. You didn't have a bad chest persay, but you were always self conscious of it. In fact, yours were uneven. Sure, they weren't an entire cup size different, but one cup of your bra would fit perfectly while the other was just slightly too big or too small depending on the bra. You knew that you were probably making a bigger issue out of things, but you couldn't help your insecurity. You noticed the difference every time you looked in the mirror, even if no one else did.
You hardly even noticed the movie ending. You couldn't even remember the plot. You nodded at the discussion Eddie had started, trying to make it seem like you had paid attention. You could feel Steve's eyes on you. "Are you okay?" Steve mouthed from across the couch. You smiled and nodded, but the look of concern didn't leave his face. Of course the one guy you wanted to seem normal to could tell something was off.
Slowly, everyone gathered their things to leave. Robin and Nancy left together while you were searching for your keys. Eddie had went to the restroom then left, saying something about a deal. You still couldn't find your keys. You always left them on the table in the hall, but they were nowhere to be found. This was just making your night worse. The icing on the cake. Like when you are already mad and your belt loop gets caught on the door handle. You grumble to yourself, when you hear Steve clear his throat.
You turn to glance at him. Steve had your keys in his hand. He jingled them before tossing them at you. You fumble with the catch, but don't drop them. Why the hell would Steve steal your keys?
Steve stood at the end of the hall in front of the front door. He had his arms crossed over his chest. "What's going on?" Steve demanded. You rolled your eyes at his tone, earning a glare," Seriously? You're acting strange, what happened?" "Nothing. Thanks for stealing my keys asshole." "It's called borrowing, you got them back." You attempt to slide by Steve but he blocks you. Almost like a game, you try to slide past and he blocks you.
You fake to the left, making Steve attempt to block you there, but slide past him on the right. You grasp the door handle but-
The handle slips from your grasp as Steve spins you around and pins you to the door. His arms blocking you on either side, holding onto your biceps. You drop your keys on the floor from surprise. A moment of silence between you two as you both realize the position you're in.
"What's going on? Did...did I do something?" Steve frowns at you. Your stomach drops at the look of disappointment on his face," No! Steve just...no." "You can't even look at me without frowning." His words make you realize you are indeed frowning. You must have been frowning at him all night. You attempt to smile, but the attempt is pitiful and Steve sighs," I'm sorry...I dont know what I did, but I am." "Steve you didn't do-" "No, no. Let me finish. I'm sorry that-" "Steve-" "-i never meant to make you uncomfortable, if you tell me what it is I can avoid doing it again-" "Steve I-" "- let me speak! I'm sorry i-"
"It's my boobs!" Your voice is loud, not yelling, but loud enough that there was no way Steve could ignore it. You bite your bottom lip and his mouth drops open slightly. He closes his mouth and swallows, your eyes flicking to his Adam's apple moving. You don't miss how his eyes snap down to your chest that was covered by your shirt.
"Uh I'm sorry?" Steve blinked a few times before looking into your eyes," I think I'm missing something?" Nerves wrack your stomach, embarrassed at the feelings of insecurity you had. You fidget under his gaze," Well I mean...the movie...she...mine don't look..."
Steve's eyes widen slightly with realization. "Oh Honey...there's nothing to be self-conscious about." You scoff at his words making him glare. "Seriously, all boobs are beautiful. Big, small, perky or not, I could go on. Even, uneven, doesn't matter to me.. Boobs are boobs. And they all are beautiful." "Not mine." Steve rolls his eyes," Yes yours." "Nuh-uh" "Yuh-huh!" You and Steve bicker back and forth before the thought fuck it runs through your mind.
You grab the hem of your sweater, yanking it up. You're glad now that you had worn the severely baggy sweater without a bra. Your breasts jiggle slightly with movement, Steve's eyes immediately darting to them.
He licks his lips as he stares at your chest. Your chest rising and falling with every breath you take. His gaze heavy, making you aware of what you just did. You go to lower your sweater and his hands dart out to hold yours up," Now hold on..."
He smirks at you and lowers one hand down to your left boob. He palms at it, making you realize how big his hand really is. He squeezes lightly before lifting your breast and letting go, watching your breast fall and jiggle. He groans and the sound goes straight between your legs. His other hand darts to your other breast. You can tell there is a difference in size against his hands, but Steve doesn't seem to care.
Your nipples start to harden from arousal and the cool air. Steve's eyes focused on the peaks as his thumbs rub over each one. A shudder runs through you and goosebumps run down your arms from Steve's feather light touch. Steve's eyes are lit up with barely contained lust.
"Don't know why you were concerned about these...They're perfect." Steve mumbles, dipping his head close to your chest before looking up at you. The unspoken question has you nodding your consent. Steve grins slightly before slowly kissing your chest. A kiss here and there. A slight bite. Licking and swirling his tongue. He sucks lightly on one nipple, sending shivers down your spine.
You can feel your arousal start to dampen your panties. A light moan escapes your mouth before you bite your lip to hold it back. Steve groans at the sound before pulling back. "Fuck babe..." Steve exhales slowly. He closes his eyes trying to get a grip on himself. You aren't sure if you should lower your top or take it off. Steve shifts and your eyes dart down and-
Oh. A thrill of pride runs through you at seeing Steve's erection. Knowing you gave him that? Knowing you got him worked up just from the part of you that you are the most insecure of? It may not take away that insecurity fully, but it does help to lessen it in this moment. You lick your lips at the sight. Damn, it was big.
Steve's hands slowly grasp yours and lower your sweater. "We uh better put those away. Or I'm gonna have a hard time controlling myself." Steve clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair. You nod absent-mindedly. You pause and then say," Who says you have to control yourself?"
Steve growls and crowds you against the door. Your arms go over his shoulders, a hand in his hair and one on his neck. Your noses knock together slightly before his lips collide against yours. Soft but passionate. Your chest rubs against his as he pushes a leg between yours. The friction hits your pelvis as you both grind against each other.
You can feel the roughness of his jeans through the fabric of your pants, it hitting just right to feel amazing against your clit. You pull back with a gasp, Steve taking the opportunity to kiss down your jaw. You aren't sure if he maneuvers your head, or if you turn it to give him better access. You can feel a hint of pain as he nips his teeth, that turns into pleasure as he sucks and licks the spot. He trails down from your jaw to your neck, to the spot that makes your fingers and thighs clench. You know your underwear must be soaked at this point.
"Steve," you tap his neck to get his attention and he pulls back to look at you," Bedroom?" Steve's eyes light up and a blinding grin spreads across his face. He lets go of you and takes a step back. Steve grabs your hand, interlocking your fingers. His hand bigger then yours, but feeling like a puzzle piece sliding into place. Butterflies in your stomach taking flight as it felt so right.
Steve leads you up the stairs and into his bedroom. He lightly closes the door and pulls his shirt off. You can't help inhaling sharply at the sight. Pale skin scattered with beautiful moles, like stars in the night sky. You want to kiss each one. His chest hair and that stupid happy trail, it made your mouth salivate. Steve flexes his biceps slightly, trying to show off. You wouldn't tell him, but he didn't need to show off for you. You thought he was beautiful just as he was. Even when he was a "loser" (his own words not yours).
You toss your sweater off quickly, not wanting to miss a second. You push your pants and underwear off in the same movement. It hit you suddenly, that you were naked in Steve's room. This had only happened in your dreams, and if this was one, you didn't want to wake up.
Your eyes dart back to Steve as his jeans come off with his boxers. Steve's dick stands to attention, lightly hitting his stomach. A smattering of curls neatly trimmed at the base. A prominent vein on its side. You can see a mole on one of his balls, and you still agree with your earlier thought of kissing every mole. You lick your lips at the thought. Steve goes to take his tube socks off and falters slightly, almost falling.
It takes some nerves away you didn't realize you had as you giggle at the man in front of you. Steve's face flushes with embarrassment, but that feeling goes away as he sees you getting comfy on his bed. In his mind, you look like you belong. Like this was the perfect place for you. Steve gets his socks off and tosses them away, stalking over to you.
Steve slowly crawls onto the bed and over you. You grin up at him as he braced himself over you. "Hi," you murmur before kissing him. You can feel one of his hands snaking down your arm and grabbing your hand. He holds your hand as you kiss, making your head spin. Something so innocent as holding hands mixed with the way his tongue was moving against yours made it feel incredibly dirty. You knew you would think about this moment every time you held hands, because now you weren't going to let his hand go that easily.
Steve slowly lines up, rubbing his dick through your folds. A shiver of pleasure runs down your spine as he rubs against you clit. You whimper slightly, bucking against him. Once his dick is coated thoroughly with your arousal, he teases your hole with his tip. The lightest touch of pressure, just so you know he's there before he pulls away.
You can feel the head of his dick slip in slightly, both of you moaning. "Ready?" He asks and you nod. He slowly pushes in, pausing to give you time to adjust to his length. It has a slight sting of pain as you stretch to adjust for his size. Steve murmurs apologies as he kisses your face, going back to the spot on your neck he found earlier. You relax against him and he pushes in all the way.
You've never felt so full. The feeling was amazing. Steve slowly starts to pull out before pushing back in. Each thrust of his dick sending pleasure coursing through you. You wrap your legs around his waist, allowing him to hit a different angle that causes you to moan.
Panting into each other's mouths as he thrusts into you. Steve moans wantonly, sending shivers down your spine. With every thrust he hits that spot that makes you see stars. You can feel your climax approaching. "Give it to me Honey," Steve murmurs, hand snaking down and circling your clit.
You crash over the edge before you realize you were even there. You spasm from pure unadulterated pleasure. Stars explode in your vision as ecstasy takes over. "Oh fuck you're-" Steve cuts off with a gasp as his hips stutter. You are floating through space, barely tethered to your body. You thought out of body experiences only happened when you were about to die, but the pleasure you felt sent you to new heights.
Steve's thrusts falter as he cums. You start to come back to earth as you feel his release paint your insides. Steve collapses on you, not in an unpleasant manner, but like a weighted blanket was laid on you. You wrap your arms around his waist in a loose hug (and if you squeezed his ass well thats just for you two to know). You can feel his heaving breaths as his chest rubs against yours.
Steve pulls back slightly to stare into your eyes. "Hi again," you giggle. "Hi Beautiful," He grins at you. You try to hide your face in his neck but he laughs and pulls back more, making you whine. "Don't go shy on me," Steve kisses your nose," I've seen you naked now. Nothing left to be shy about." You would argue but Steve kisses you again.
Steve slowly pulls out and you whine at the loss. You can feel his cum slowly drip out of you. He pulls back but you tighten your arms around his waist. "Hey, I'll be right back. Just gonna get a towel to clean up." Steve strokes your jaw. You reluctantly let go of the man so he can go get a towel. Steve leaves and returns quickly. A wet wash cloth in hand, Steve pauses at the sight of his release dripping out of you. You can tell he likes what he sees, making a mental note. He cleans you up, careful as you are still sensitive.
Soon, he is crawling back into bed next to you. He curls into you, wrapping an arm around your waist as his head goes to lay against your chest. You wrap one arm around his waist while the other hand goes to his hair. You both sigh contentedly. "Beautiful," Steve mumbles, kissing your breast. Yeah, your insecurity was definitely lessened in this moment. And you had a feeling that every time it started to grow, Steve would show you how he felt about them.
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iceman-soup · 3 months
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gn!reader x top!gaz
Soft, loving sex with Gaz - not after a difficult mission, not because someone said something that pissed either of you off; simply because you both wanted to.
It's not tearful or desperate or longing. It's calming and comforting, your bodies as physically close as possible. Warm skin on warm skin.
You're kissing him but it's delicate, tender; each touch of your lips together is passionate yet not messy, eyes flickered closed peacefully.
He's above you, and still you wouldn't feel overpowered even for a second. You're holding him up just as much as he's supporting his own weight, laying on top of you but not in a way to pin you down.
Your hands run along his body, memorising each new crevice and scar under your fingertips, your prints reciting the ones you already know. He caresses your face, thumbs stroking your cheeks, gentle and adoring.
Light conversation in whispers, telling each other you love them, quiet groans and hitched breath from both you and him as he fucks you slowly.
You curl up together afterwards, putting on a DVD and falling asleep to it, cuddled in a fluffy blanket, legs entwined and heads resting on each other's.
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just-some-user-hunny · 5 months
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P canonically weighs 300 lb 😳
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At least he'd be a REALLY effective weighted blanket!!
finally my autistic desire to be hydraulically pressed can be achieved :')
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blindmagdalena · 10 months
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really obsessed with soulmate au’s recently and it got me thinking… what if john’s soulmate was part of the boys? a girl trying to kill him with an entire group of people also trying to kill him… and he’s fated to her? could picture him finding out and just putting his hands on his hips while turning his back to her and doing that click chuckle thing. just in utter disbelief but it is definitely on track for fate’s little play with him and his life lolol
Oohhh, you know, I've never played much with the soulmate au concept, but this struck me just right because I can so clearly see the slow, building meltdown that strikes him when that reveal drops.
The mirthless laugh, shaking his head, the hapless gesture to the ceiling before his hands drop. "Of course. Of course it's you. Why wouldn't it be? I mean—Christ, it makes sense, doesn't it? Every single person who was supposed to love me has-has fucked it, so why—" he keeps cutting into this escalating, unsettling laughter. There's nothing funny about it: you're sure that you're watching someone lose the last shred of their sanity in real time. "Why would my 'soulmate'-", he says, miming big, dramatic quotation marks. "-be any different?" That manic grin has shifted into tight baring of his teeth, a vicious sneer. He closes in on you, stands so near you can feel the heat of his breath when he hisses, "I should put you in the fucking dirt with the rest of them."
It should be terrifying, but it's hard to focus on anything other than the glassiness of his eyes. The sheer devastating heartbreak of it all, telegraphed clear as day in the way he carries himself. His eyes flare red, sizzling up the tears before they can fall. "And then you really will be all alone," you say. Maybe it's the hopelessness of the moment, maybe it's the shock of learning for yourself that he's supposed to be your one and only, but you feel numb. Frayed in a way you didn't know you could be. The crimson light of his eyes disappears in an instant, revealing surprise, followed by a wounded kind of look, before that familiar seething rage returns. "We'll see about that."
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mrsoharaa · 3 months
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Felicia: I can send you the address, Miguel...
Y/n: He didn't bring his phone. So...
Felicia: Oh, I can give you the address! *she chirps*
Y/n: No need. *retorts flatly, immediately*
Felicia: Can't hurt. *starts to get impatient and prude, brows furrowing with a small careless shrug*
Y/n: Might hurt. *states with a firmer tone, arms folded across chest nails seeping into suit, ready to ruthlessly pounce*
Miguel: Oye, nena...behave *chuckles and grins down at y/n, gently holding the lower part of their tense back*
*heavily inspired by a certain tiktok audio lmaooo my money is on Y/n!*
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honeymaki · 1 year
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Goodnight to Levi and his newly discovered breeding kink when he’s balls deep in you, legs up by his shoulders when you grab his head, look at him with droopy eyes and whimper out a “make me a mommy Levi🥺” cums so fast he blacks out and spends the next three hours hard and angry about this new development, but keeps his cute momma full and drippy and fat with cum <<3
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lieutenantselnia · 5 months
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Imagine crawling under the Horned King's robe to cuddle with him ... It doesn't necessarily have to be a sexual situation (though it could possibly lead to that if you're both up to it - I mean does he even wear anything else underneath there?👀), but could also simply be a tender moment of both physical and emotional closeness.
Author's note: This was originally supposed to be an imagine at best or simply just me yelling out my thoughts about the Horned King, but somehow it kind of accidentally turned into a short story. Things you do at 5am I guess. This man probably has to much control over my mind at this point (not that I'm complaining).
The Horned King x Reader - Cuddling under his robe
It's cold this evening, though this is not something particularly unusual. The wind is howling around the walls of the castle, and you're snuggling a little closer to the Horned King as you're resting in your shared bed together. You feel his grip around your waist tighten ever so slightly, when suddenly an idea sparks up in your mind. Maybe there is an even better way to escape the cold than just pressing yourself up against him ...
He tilts his head, but doesn't say anything yet when you wriggle yourself out of his embrace and crawl towards the foot of the bed. You hesitate for a moment, but eventually decide to lift the hem of his robe.
"What are you doing, my dear?"
You can hear mild confusion in his voice, and stop in your motion for a moment, one of your hands pulling up the fabric a little while the other is resting on his calf.
"Just trying to escape the cold ..."
With that, you lean forwards and start crawling under the king's robe. The thick fabric holds off any light, so you let your hands follow the contours of his body as you move upwards, careful not to put your weight onto him in an uncomfortable way. You can feel a smile forming on your face as you finally stick your head through the collar - which luckily is wide enough to fit both of you.
"I thought it might be warmer underneath here, and I have to say that I'm not disappointed. But I also just wanted to be close to you ..."
The Horned King's gaze turns soft - over time you've learned to read his more subtle facial expressions - , and when you lean forwards a little to press a kiss onto his lipless mouth, you can feel him eagerly reciprocate the motion, to the best of his abilities at least. He lets out a content sigh as you rub your nose against his cheek and wraps his arms around you, resting his hands on your back. You allow your body to relax completely as you lay down on top of his own, and although he's not giving off any body warmth, you relish the feeling of being pressed up against his bare skin.
"This is perfect ..."
You mumble as you're nuzzling your face into his neck. Your eyelids are starting to get heavier as he gently rubs your back, and a yawn escapes you.
"Rest now, my dear."
Your king's soothing voice still reaches you as your consciousness starts to drift off into the shadows.
"Rest well. I will not be going anywhere right now ..."
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minzart · 2 years
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Dottore(the game design one): why are you looking at me like that?
Y/n: .... what the fuck happened to your teeth? No scratch that. What's with the new look overall??? I liked your pink bowtie :/
Dottore not knowing who the fuck this is and how did they get so close to that specific clone but now it's too late to ask and he's kinda intrigued about their suposed preexisted "dynamic": it's a funeral, it seemed inappropriate not to come more formal in this day doesn't it? :)
Y/n squinting at him: ..... aren't you tired of being calm?
Dottore: what-?
Y/n getting closer: don't you wanna release the unhinged gremilin that lies bellow :)))))
Dottore internaly: don't laugh,don't laugh,don't laugh,don't laugh,don't laugh,don't laugh-fuck
[Dottore loses his fucking mind in a maniacal grin and laughter BC THE AUDACITY OF THIS PERSON HOLLY FUCK]
Y/n: yeah it's still you then :)
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natasha-in-space · 1 year
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hi!!! can I request a school ver seven and MC maybe confessing to each other? I wanna write a bunch of school ver mysme stories but I just don't have any time 🥹
Sooo, I actually ended up writing this promt in the canon timeline for mm, and not as an au... I just had this idea for a possible scenario, where you get to meet Saeyoung before he ever got the chance to join the RFA, and the rest was history. SO! I used his college fake name 'Chilyoung' for this drabble. This is kinda angsty... But, with the happy ending. Enjoy! :)
Today was going to be the day. The day you will finally overcome all your fears and take the leap of faith instead of fretting over every little thing that could possibly go wrong.
Your rapid heartbeat thundering all the way up into your temples, you paced through the quiet corridor, nervously fiddling with the sleeves of your shirt and waiting for him to leave the classroom. Your school day was over a few hours ago... But, you refused to leave, fighting against your inner demons and anticipating the moment you'll have to spill your heart free. And what a cliche situation this truly was... confessing your feelings to your school crush that has suddenly popped up into your life like a wild hurricane, sweeping you off your feet before you could even blink or shield yourself against the whipping wind.
Chilyoung was a boy bathed in secrets and mystery, being a transfer student with a truly genius mind. Granted, you did not think of him much at first. To say he was distant is to say nothing at all. He was someone who shocked almost every teacher and student with his exceptional abilities, but he also treated those around him coldly and seemingly indifferently. He sat and walked alone, refusing to be a part of any company friendly enough to outstretch their hands to the new student. It didn't take long for your classmates to give up their numerous attempts at befriending him, preferring instead to create a whole plethora of rumors that could potentially explain Chilyoung's withdrawn nature.
Some were sympathetic, while others cruel.
It wasn't until one fated day when you were paired up with him in order to work on a new school project, when you first interacted with him directly. You didn't have much of a choice back then, really. But, you kept an open mind. After all, your redheaded classmate was notorious for his outstanding skills and creativity. You just needed to find a way for you two to get along! And, well... the rest is history.
It's not like he became your best friend right of the bat, quite the opposite of that, actually. In the beginning, you were the only one babbling away about this and that, asking him various silly questions and trying to learn at least a tiny bit more about him. You quickly found out that trying to fish anything out about his personal life was not something he particularly enjoyed. For someone so closed off, his emotions were strangely easy for you to read.
You could always see it all in his eyes.
They would darken and lower onto his long fingers whenever you'd press the wrong button. On the opposite end, regardless of how neutral his face may seemed at first glance, his golden eyes would practically sparkle if you'd ask him to explain something he found particularly interesting about a math problem or some random fact about the universe. It was... cute. And, somewhat sad. Chilyoung was so very lonely... And yet, he refused to let anyone in.
You wondered why. Perhaps, today's the day you finally get to solve the elusive mystery by the name of Chilyoung Kim.
You were jolted out of your thoughts by the unmistakable deafening sound of the last bell ringing, making your heart start to race anew. Soon after, the doors to the computer class were flung open and a sea of laughing and chattering classmates filled the entire hall, eager to end their hard day of learning and blow off some steam with their friends. You paid no mind to them, though. Your eyes were too focused on trying to locate the one boy you were so desperate to see today, searching for a bright explosion of fiery red among the group.
And, there he was, coming out of the classroom as one of the last students to leave, with his pensive gaze studying a few notes he was meticulously placing into his notebook. He was always a diligent student, as you slowly learned about him. While he definitely was a smart one... that did not mean that he did not have to work hard. You could see the determination, the resignation in his eyes as he worked his way through yet another complex problem on his hand.
There was something he was working towards, something that pushed him to try as hard as he did.
Either way, you gulped, taking a single steadying breath and calling out after him once the hall grew quiet enough and everyone has already rushed off to their individual lockers. The sound of your voice crying out his name had him stopping in his tracks seemingly in an instant, his head whipping into your direction so quickly, you got a bit worried he might have strained his neck a little.
Oh Jeez... were you too loud?
You couldn't read him as he stared at you, obviously trying to figure out your intentions just as hard as you were trying to do the same with him. Well... not like you could back down from this now.
"Why are you still in school?" He asked, squinting his eyes a little in clear suspicion. "Your lessons ended hours ago."
"Uh- W-Well yes, but... I... had a very important question I needed to ask you." You stammered, suddenly feeling your cheeks burn from the realization of just what you were planning on doing. Oh, God, you were so nervous... But, a part of you refused to run. A part of you kept your trembling legs glued to the wooden floor, whispering somewhere in the corners of your mind, that there was no reason for you to be so afraid.
You wanted to get closer to Chilyoung, whatever this may mean for you two. You wanted for him to know just how much you care about him. You wanted... for him to know that he's not alone. Because you knew his heart desired for it strongly and desperately, regardless of the indifferent facade he put up in order to protect himself for some unknown reason.
"You could have just texted me, you know." He murmured, clearly taking notice of your frazzled state. You took a small breath of relief as his gaze visibly softened, his shoulders relaxing under his shirt and his attention now focused solely on you. This may not be a lot, but it's a sign that he does care. And, you needed to see that right now.
"Well... What is it? Is there something bothering you?"
Yeah, how pretty your eyes look.
You shook off the unwanted thought and clenched your hands into tight fists, deciding to try out a bit of an unconventional route to test the waters. Or, maybe, you were just trying to pull yourself together before you messed everything up. "I... Yes. But... It's a bit personal, so... I don't want for my other friends to tease me about it. And, I know that you're not that type of guy, so I can trust you with this. There's... Um, I really like one of my classmates. It took me some time to figure out my feelings for sure, but now I'm confident that I want us to be closer to each other. But, I'm terrified of pushing them away and ruining our friendship. They... mean a lot to me, you know?"
It felt weird, saying all of this in such a peculiar way. But... You just wanted to take a look at his reaction before you would make a choice to just come out and say it how it is. So, you stood there, your lips pursed into a thin line and your gaze fixed on him with an intensity you haven't felt before.
His expression remained blank for a while, his eyebrows slightly raised as he listened to your makeshift story in all its entirety. But then, you could notice his lips twitching, just enough for a resemblance of a pained frown to take its place on his freckled face, before he swiftly regained his stoic composure once more. However, you did not miss out on this small slip-up of his. And, once he did come up with a reply, his hands were clenched around his notebook way harder than they needed to be, his fingertips turning a shade of sickly white.
Chilyoung took a shaky breath, suddenly lowering his gaze onto the floor, just like he always did whenever you hit a nerve. A gesture you grew so familiar with, and yet, he still had no idea about just how perceptive you really are, when it comes to his self-expression. "...I'm not the one you should consult with about romantic relationships, Y/N. But... If that person means a lot to you, and if they truly make you happy... You should let them know that. You never know when will come the day you'll be forced to say goodbye to them, regardless whether you want to do it or not. Even if they may not understand you... You might regret keeping this truth from them for the rest of your life."
You blinked, not at all expecting to hear something of this nature from him. Your heart skipped a beat. This... felt way more personal than a mere advice for your crush.
This felt like something being spoken from a personal experience of his. And this thought... It made your hurt ache for him in more ways than one. Right now, he looked like the loneliest human alive. Chilyoung, too, seemed to catch onto the particular way that his words sounded, hurriedly continuing with a different narrative from before.
"-And, you deserve to be happy. You're... a good person, Y/N. If they make you happy, then... It's all I- It's all you need."
You took a step closer, all of your fears seemingly gone in an instant. "Chilyoung... I... I was actually talking about you. You're the one I like. That's... That's what I really wanted to talk to you about... I know you don't get along with anybody here, but I want to know more about you. And... I want you to know how much I care about you."
"You-" To your shock, he recoiled, uncharacteristically stumbling over his own legs in the process. He looked... almost terrified, staring wide eyed at you with thousands of conflictive emotions shown clearly on his usually indifferent face. "No. No, you can't. This is... No."
He sounded so hurt and scared, it almost made you question whether this was ever real or not. You never saw Chilyoung act out so openly and emotionally towards anyone before. But... you were not at all happy with the way that it happened.
"Chilyoung...? Hey... It's okay if you don't feel the same, really. I just... I wanted you to know that there's someone who really cares about you. That's all. I don't need anything in return, I promise." You tried to reassure him, slowly following him down the corridor. His reaction was... strange. It's one thing to feel upset about not being able to return one's feelings, and it's completely another to react as if you just got told the grimmest news possible.
But, your attempt did not help much. He shook his head vigorously, his breath coming out in short panicked gasps, all of his stoic facade long gone. "No, no, no, you don't understand, you can't! I can't! I can't- I can't do this! Why me? Just why the hell you chose someone like me!? Of all people!? Are you really thaf stupid!?"
His words... hurt. But, what hurt more, is just how distressed he sounded, how desperate and high his soft voice got, how utterly terrified he looked. Why is he acting like this? You reached out with your hand, at this point, disregarding everything to do with your confession and simply hoping to calm him down a little. "What are you talking about? I told you, it doesn't have to be so complicated... It's going to be okay."
A sound akin to a choked sob reached your ears as he backed even further away from you, refusing to look you in the eye, his voice dropping to a broken half-whisper. "I'm sorry. I don't have any other choice. Just- Know that it's not your fault."
Before you could utter a single word, he ran. He ran so fast, it felt like his life depended on it. And, you were left standing there, alone, confused and equally heartbroken both for his heart and your own.
The next day, Chilyoung did not come to school. And the next. And then the day after that. And the week right after. As well as the months that kept following on.
You thought you'd never see this redheaded boy again. That he'll simply remain as one of the first people that have ever made your heart flutter to life. But... it all changed once you noticed a strange app you did not remember installing onto your phone, years in the future.
Maybe, it was fate for you two to find each years down the line. A chance for you to make things right. Which is why you refused to let him go ever again.
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hazbinhappy · 3 days
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does no one ever wonder about like the children and family members of sinners? like i do A LOT
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darklyndivinely · 8 months
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I was interested in learning guitar. I asked a couple friends of mine whether to pick up acoustic or electric, and both said to go for acoustic. I did extensive research on Google as well and most articles say that it doesn't really matter. The only con to electric guitar that I see is the pricing, but I'm hoping to go second hand, so that might fall in my budget if I save for a couple months. But I still wanna confer with someone experienced. If anyone's got any advice, please drop it.
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Three things I have been learning:
do things that aren't on the internet. with real people. don't get all your opinions online, because it's not a solid depiction of reality. it really really isn't. HOWEVER--don't entirely discount the internet, bc while it is a cesspool of nonsense many times, I have also met all my best friends on it, and I am endlessly thankful for them and legitimately do not know where I would be today without them.
if a song speaks to something extremely deep in you throughout your life, that probably means something. think about it sometimes. try to figure out why it resonates like that, and discern if that means something that could be important or helpful to you.
Van Gogh is my favourite artist for a reason that's about more than just his paintings.
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coralhoneyrose · 5 months
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*Very* self-indulgent question, but...
For anyone who reads the fake dating fic, is there any part of the story that stands out in your mind as most memorable or vivid? Since it'll be the first long fic I've finished, I'm toying with commissioning art in anticipation of the last chapter as a way to celebrate....I'm just not sure which scene or moment would work best LOL. Would very much appreciate suggestions / input if anyone has them!
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