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capslocked · 6 months

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KINKVEMBER DAY: 2

[prompt: mutual masturbation] male reader x jang wonyoung 4k words

If nothing else, Jang Wonyoung is a creature of habit.

Always orders her americano cold. Brown sugar and cinnamon cream cheese on her bagel. Walks three and a half steps behind her manager whenever they make their rounds: hair salon, corner pharmacy, the office, local record store. And for as long as she's been sharing your bed, she's insisted on that horrendous alarm clock from the late 90s that chirps the early-morning wakeup like a dying robot-parakeet.

All of it has worked for her so far, she’ll tell you. Which you find hard to argue with.

So - when she arrives home later than usual on an ordinary Thursday, she doubles down on routine. Where there's comfort in predictability. Coat on the third hook, boots below, fingers in her hair twisting to undo a messy bun, and a soft, delicate, "It's me," once she steps over the threshold.

“Hey,” you say to her, tilting your head. "You look, bedraggled."

"Well," and Wonyoung brushes aside the handful of her damp hair not stuck to her neck. There are faint marks just at her temple, in a faded half-circle, not unlike what would happen if your pillow wasn't comfortable. Or, you know. Some boyfriend that she's not supposed to have getting a hand tangled into all that long hair and pulling tight, like she tells him not to do. "That's probably true."

"Is it raining?"

"It was earlier." She eyes the spoonful of yogurt you're about to lick off, leaning back against the counter and tapping at the ceramic bowl. Frowns. "Is that one of the last blueberry ones. I take those for my lunch."

"I can always get more."

"Uh-huh." She drops her phone, keys, and spare change from her pockets into the large wicker bowl that lives near the end of the hall, by the closet and coat hooks. She has a sort of despondent energy about her when she comes into the kitchen. Less a look, more of a stance. A rub at her shoulder, this back and forth in her neck like she's working out a kink.

And because she looks tired and her hair is damp and she isn't busy kissing you right away, that's when you reach out. Let a finger slide across her skin, under her collar, pull aside the cotton.

"I'm going to go take a shower."

"Mind if I join you? You could use a hand." You end up holding hers in your own for a moment. Just, looking. "If you want."

There's something unidentifiable in her stare. She might have gone on believing nothing was different if not for the length of that pause - you, and the warmth from your body and the warmth of your hands on her shoulders, sliding into her neck, then-

She rises up on her toes and presses a light, almost shy kiss into your chin. And, well, if she had the strength to reach anywhere more than that, she'd let her fingertips find and curl around the smooth curve of your ear and say, very softly - barely audible - "take your clothes off. I'm already soaking wet. If you don't help, I'll run out of hot water before the conditioner's worked its way through."

But it's not for tonight; she's tired, wants it simple, maybe. Maybe wants to leave it for a better day.

"I just want to get cleaned up. It's been a long day."

"Fine by me." You point your spoon at her. "That's what it's for."

“Such a fucking gentleman," she murmurs, patting a palm at the front of your chest.

You smile first, playful - just this side of annoying - the exact thing she's kicking herself months later for having fallen for. And with another spoonful of yogurt, "you know me."

In your defense, Wonyoung has always had the cutest reaction to it. The quirk that she tries to keep from forming in the corner of her mouth, small and contained, like if you asked her about her day, she'd play it off. Let a sentence out with no punctuation. Which she often does: she's been fine, and that's the full length of her response.

But later, when she climbs into bed - when her face is in your hands and her lips are brushing past your cheek - when her hair smells like peach shampoo, and your chin is tucked into the nape of her neck, just the beginning of all the ways you plan to spoil her, you have to tease. Always, "I thought we weren't fucking until tomorrow, or was that a lie?"

A little bit of distance to keep your mind on track, and not thinking about her spread out under you, wide-eyes, and saying: yes.

You’re propped up against the headboard. You were reading, or watching tv. It doesn’t matter which when Wonyoung straddles your legs and drags her hand up your chest. Up and under her nightgown, the silky, thin, light blue material, until she has the collar cupped in her fist and her knees straddling your thigh. "Am I not allowed to change my mind?"

"No. Not allowed." Your breath catches. Because she is gorgeous, especially like this: tired, and pretty, and sweet, and thinking, deeply and meticulously and with great consideration, of climbing into your lap and asking if you'd help. If she'd be distracting enough - if she had the words to entice you into staying very close, without actually promising anything, because this, what she's wearing, how it's so tight to her form and how it is easily torn or bunched aside when she reaches down with both hands and starts to fiddle with the fabric at her waist, near her navel - is all entirely purposeful.

Wonyoung raises her eyebrow in question - silently: an exception, maybe, for me?

The way you're talking her up with both hands at the very smallest dip between her ribs and the bones jutting out above her hips, thumbs rubbing into the sensitive places along her thighs - pressing, a steady rhythm.

"Do you want it bad, princess?"

"Stop." Wonyoung wrinkles her nose at that and glares. But she knows better than anyone else. She lives in that contradiction, visible as it plays across her face when her back arcs and arches. When her breathing does this slow and deep in and out and you've leaned in with just enough pressure to make it feel good, in your kiss, a soft tug, a bite. A slow laving tongue leaving lazy patterns across her skin.

"Just want to make sure," you insist. Then, the question is being murmured against her chest. Then it's being whispered into the crook of her neck - which earns the single most content of sounds:

"A little, yeah, you ass."

"My mouth? My fingers? Or are you looking for something more... involved?"

"Maybe I'm looking," she says, pulling a curtain of glossy black hair back over her ear, "for you to figure that out."

"Aren’t you coy." You grab at her hair again - the second time today, for the second-worst of reasons. To tilt her head and gaze up at her like you're willing to live in the space beneath her. "We'd start slow?" you ask, and with a press of your open mouth against her collarbone, she brings her arms around you.

"Very slowly," Wonyoung says. She has one hand curling through bedsheets to feel if you're anywhere near as hard as she is wet. Her touch is fleeting, barely a whisper. "We don't have to rush it. Maybe we could do that thing."

You laugh out loud, and the vibration of it alone, coursing through your chest, your waist, up between her legs, has Wonyoung wanting. "That could mean anything at this point."

Wonyoung just looks down at you, fingernails grazing over your stomach, your chest, as she peels your shirt up over your head and tosses it aside the bed. And then, the idea, "get your phone."

"Hm. I'm going to say something that might come off as a little... something, but I mean it in the most respectful way." It's not a far reach, to where yours is charging on the nightstand. You're tapping in the passcode to your lockscreen when you spell it out for the girl in your lap: "you're low-key kind of a freak."

Wonyoung closes her eyes. Smiles. Her hair is spilling over one shoulder, some strewn across her chest, where she cups the underside of her breasts and sits her elbows into your shoulders and wriggles her ass a little lower in your lap. Until the tips of her hair are brushing the space below her belly-button, teasing-soft at the warm, pliant flesh.

"Pot." She bites into her lip, just slightly. "Meet kettle."

It doesn't take long to find what she's looking for; twitter's full of it. A video of her that'd gone viral. Or not quite viral, but circulated - bounced from account to account, thousands and thousands of hits - the shot by shot of the choreo that sees her bending over at the waist, touching her fingertips to the hem of a plaid-checked skirt, with this perfect posture, straight up through the hips to arch the back and lift and turn her shoulders at the right angle, so there's no mistake she's looking straight at the camera.

“You look good here,” you remark, scrolling a little further. She's grown so used to it that she doesn't even look.

Instead, it's her fingers that do the talking: moving a little faster. Touching a little deeper and harder over the gray cloth of her underwear. She runs a circle over the spot that has her rubbing her hips forward, breath shaky, back in your ear. "I always look good, don't I?"

"Obviously."

Her jaw falls into the crook of your neck. There's no escaping it: this heat, and she sighs. Mumbled and warm. This is the worst thing, she mutters - like you can't feel how incredibly hard it's getting to see her touch herself and act all shy, so the words are half-concentrating on her own breath, the other half focused, hazy. In her face. In her chest.

So, again. Wonyoung swallows a sigh. Breathes and runs her touch along the edges. That spot and where the wet has started to soak through the fabric, her thighs rubbing and sliding and finding new pressure.

“Here’s a particularly nasty one," you tell her.

Wonyoung turns her mouth into your neck, lips leaving these kisses while she presses down her fingers and rides. Hard, heavy strokes where her hand moves quicker with a sharp huff to her inhale. You click open another thread - another snapshot of that tight little ass of hers, the smooth skin over the dip of her hips, and the long curve of her back-

"Read it."

And with the music all distorted and choppy through tinny phone speakers, you say: "some guy can't decide if he'd like to spank you or pull your hair."

"Uh-huh." You feel her chin dig in where it's placed itself, over the flat of your shoulder.

"Then there's an awful lot here about how much the commenter wants to rail you. They get pretty vulgar." You look up from the screen and raise an eyebrow, the words coming into place, "Wonyoung has grown up so well," and the next part is so easy, "this little cocktease has been begging me to drain my balls for her for too long. I have to fucking oblige."

"God." She slips a finger into her panties to rub at her pussy - you know because the contact is audible, wet - and she drags a palm up and down, pressing in hard. Her lips part over a shaky punched out breath - this hot, wet puff of air - when she drags her mouth over the smooth skin of your collarbone. Where she feels at liberty to bite a hickey into the taut line of your neck, and draw her mouth, open and hot, up into your jaw. "Cocktease, huh?"

"Always the impression you leave." And with one, long, indulgent swipe, and a pinch on the wet material that's plastered itself, sheer and transparent and a beautiful outline to your cock, you glance to see Wonyoung smiling. That one that's all cheekbones. All teeth. All sort of sly.

"Can you," and there's not even an attempt, not even a sliver of an ounce of thought toward trying to hide the ache in her voice.

(You're there before she has to ask.)

“The concept of ‘Baddie’ does suit her, I think,” you start to read, “no one would believe it, but Wonyoung is the perfect little slut. Grade A baddie. Capital 'b'. She keeps teasing us with that tight, toned body and her slutty expressions. Someone’s ruining her on the regular. Not a doubt in my mind. A piece of ass that fine doesn’t go a week without it.”

"I do like when they talk about you," Wonyoung purrs out, and her hand slips down your chest. A touch, always warm and heavy and searching and all your fault lands right at your waist. On the bone that juts out at her thumb and forefinger. Which is exactly where she'd start palming you over your underwear, but with something close and confident in her eye, this mischievous idea taking shape in her gaze. You can't deny it: she has something dangerous in store.

"About how they think I am."

And when you place your hand back at her hairline, trailing her neck, her shoulder, Wonyoung sighs. From the top of her chest.

"What else does it say?" She breathes out a desperate exhale. This low-slung sort of groan. She looks hungry, and so unafraid to be. Eyes all smoldering. Hips all wriggling. Pushing a rhythm with those desperate grinds over your leg. The mess, in the softest sense, of her mouth, panting against the smooth line of your jaw. And voice, hoarse, murmuring something about: "how are they planning to ruin me?"

"Princess, you-"

Wonyoung angles her hips just that inch. A moan, just at the barest amount of friction, barely a grind, her soaked pussy rubbing against the flesh of your upper thigh, that feels like an earthquake hitting your throat. That makes your eyes flutter closed for just one second and groan, your whole chest singing for her.

You swallow hard. "How can anyone go on calling this innocent-"

Wonyoung’s fingers slip past the elastic, your cock springing free against her thigh and bobbing gently. "Play along," she tells you, this hint of command, and maybe a tease - playful and familiar. "I don't want to be the only one ruining their underwear." She smiles like she has plans, and it's downright infuriating in the best way.

“In the song, she even calls herself a ‘pretty little risky baddie’ and means that whatever happens, happens. She’s announcing that she’s not on birth control and that she knows all she’s good for is getting fucked and used and bred like a toy.”

“And?” she asks, the fingers between her legs fluttering out tiny circles of respite - moving fast, faster -

It takes more than a couple seconds, because your breath halts in your throat the moment your fist finds the blood pulsing through your cock, joining her in slow, full-length, smooth motions, watching, always. Seeing her, all the way: with every slow and steady roll of her hips that moves her slick-covered-panties along your skin. The expression in the hooded eyes, this flash of her pink tongue and the way it curls over the seam of her plush-soft lip. That subtle shift in the arch of her back and the clenching muscle up her arm and leg-

Watching is where you find yourself at: all the way, everywhere. The tremble in the flex of her spine to the sound she makes from her throat at the same time. When Wonyoung moves closer. How you breathe, ragged, but eager. You're both all nerves, the damp heat building up the soft and quiet parts of the both of you and neither of you are bothered about the sweat sticking the shirt to her skin - this wet heat, a daze, a smell in the air that has Wonyoung rocking and rotating on your lap.

"I would start," you continue reading, paraphrasing slightly the unhinged words of someone typing one-handed, and your voice comes out odd, thick. "-start with my cock forced into that little throat, she'd look so perfect with her eyes watering while she gags on my cum, the filthy sounds she would be making. She'd beg for more like the slutty princess she is-"

Wonyoung shifts her weight, and lets out this moan.

"-I'm not convinced Wonyoung would even be satiated by being railed in her pretty little pussy until she's crying. Wouldn't be enough if she only choked on it while cum dripped down her chin, leaving those little dollops along the edges, slipping and glazing on her tongue. Probably wants the messiest, hottest load. No condom. Lying flat. Clenching. Could you imagine, bare? Wanting to be used for real, want us filling her so badly she'd barely even be able to move, or think, or process anything except how much of an overstimulated slut she would be: helpless. Soaking."

And you look at her as you stroke - the same tempo. Pre-cum leaking from the flushed head. Making a show of it. Watching her lips drop into something slack-jawed. This isn't even the filthiest thought she's ever heard - the roughest fantasy brought to life she's ever imagined - and yet.

"They go on for a long time about breeding you."

Wonyoung manages this incoherent half-word - a word of want, more of the kind of fucking she'd be receiving with her knees and palms to a mattress, her throat dry and face sticky with cum and tears and sweat. You know her body and what she likes, and this:

"-I would fuck her while she screams, her fingers tearing at the bedsheets and her vision so blurry and brain all fogged over, only able to respond in pained moans and deep-seated need-"

Her throat bobs.

You don't need to turn the phone over to find the end. Wonyoung lets it fall faceup onto the bedspread as she pulls your wrist toward the heat between her legs, all messy and slick. "Touch me," she's murmuring, guiding your hand lower until you have the thin strip of fabric tenting just off her lips and you press a digit inside, another - until Wonyoung clenches all around you - until she brings her wet fingers to your own ache, the hot length of your cock, pumping up and down, a stroke. Until she licks them, and places her forehead into the center of your collarbone, mumbling this broken, "Just... put-your-fucking-hands-" and her next breath, like a sharp and sudden wind.

When she’s this worked up, it doesn't take long: Wonyoung arches, slow and sinful, her shoulders curving down to present her chest, to make her small breasts and pert, hardened nipples visible even through the cotton of her shirt, her lips falling open - you slip two fingers to the base, then three. Plunging them in quick and ruthless, Wonyoung bucking into the heel of your hand, fucking her pussy on you so her thighs are slick, squelch after squelch-

“Fuck,” she whispers, this long note of exasperation, right into your cheek, and the intensity and urgency has her fucking her hips up to meet the thrust of your fingers, working her cunt like it's made for pleasure alone, and your cock-

The base of your throat burns. “Yeah,” you tell her, “just like that. Jerk that cock just like that, Wonyoung.”

Both of you are there, cumming into each other's hands, in the dimmed lights of your bedroom, heaving short, wet, sinful breaths into each other's mouths, because it's become one: her eyes and yours, blown wide. Her thighs shaking, your hips stuttering.

You roll and curl and spread your digits, holding Wonyoung's ass into her strokes. Tug the strap aside to hook a thumb in and press into her hot skin and warm muscle, driving further, deeper. Harder and firmer - pressing down, fast and vicious until she's making a series of sounds, whine-like and so soft.

"With me," she chokes out, swallowing down on the noise that falls out of her chest as fingers continue to slide around you like a vice. Her palm on you with so much pressure. "Fuck. I want you to cum."

It hits you - at first, not even particularly surprising, the rush of blood through your head.

"I wanna see it," she demands in a small, not particularly loud voice, so shy and small as the backs of her feet scramble for a hold on the mattress and she comes so hard - again, a sigh. "-feel your cum all over my knuckles, baby, cum on my-"

As to whether you or Wonyoung release first, tension coiled like a spring - well, it's anyone's guess.

"Wony-" Your mouth is open, eyes clenched tight, when Wonyoung bites a kiss down on your lip. All-consuming is the only way to describe the kind of desperation in her noises. It's everything, the sound and feeling, her wanting, her needing. All that wet heat - your stomach tightening, then slack, muscles stiffened up and falling loose as your grip becomes too tight, too heavy around the girl whose fist you're fucking and jerking and riding through this white-hot-blinding-orgasm, her wrist buckling to let you use her.

It's all that cum, lathering Wonyoung's palm, the space between her fingers, wrist and your shaft, slipping, easy. A whole puddle.

It's a few, careful strokes of her thumb and she's holding you up through that oversensitive high, forcing all that cum onto her belly, the hem of her nightshirt, all sorts of slick and messy. "Fuck, shit-" your hand still over her hot cunt, while hers just lays her weight over you, her lithe, slender body landing like it had lost any preference for form, for structure.

"Ugh," Wonyoung finally manages to get out.

"God." You collapse, leaning into the headboard behind you. With Wonyoung wrapped over your chest. Into your arm. Around your waist and mouth buried somewhere into the sweep of your neck: exhausted, entirely.

When she comes around, she does, however, make it an effort to use her tongue. Teasing along your jaw. A slip. And that makes you wonder.

"Messy," she says, wiping the back of her hand on your thigh, because where else should the proof end up.

"Ah."

She bites in, then tugs - lips on yours, until you lean up and wrap around the middle of her back, down into her hair and her hips. Because this part of her has never had a preference: to be treated either with the kind of affection and reverence afforded to an object of worship, or manhandled like someone, someone, no doubt has their fingers on her the instant she turns her ass this way or that.

"I could," she says, eyes unfocused and foggy - licking over the swell of her lip, "use a hand cleaning this up."

"Shower?"

“Mhmm.” Wonyoung slides her long legs off you, and in a look that's all too intentional, turns to move away and slip her nightshirt up, and-

Oh.

Right over her head. Then she tosses it aside like it's nothing. Wears the same sort of look that someone who hadn't had your fingers buried between their legs might. "Or, a bath sounds nice, if I’m allowed to change my mind."

"Say less, princess."

#wonyoung smut #ive wonyoung smut #ive smut #male reader #kpop smut #capslocked kinkvember

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iwaasfairy · 6 months

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┌─ “ ! „ SPARKSTONE

tw. blood kink, noncon, pain play, lashing/whipping, toji’s foul n mean, degradation, prostitution, daddy kink, kinda size kink as always w me heheghe wordcount. 4.6k

a/n. thank you a million to the loveliest friends who always keep me goin when i'm having a hard timEEE rhi, wil and dymmiEE thanK YOU SO SO MUCH FOR betaing ily so much ♡ i hope i did the big man justice he is so yucky n i love it,, also extra shOutout n love dym bc she gave me the vision i saw i came i had to have it so !! iLY ILY ILY

fushiguro toji x fem!reader

If you know one thing from your years hiding in the shadows of the more powerful, it’s that danger has a taste. It sticks to your skin, longing for an opening. And tightens around your organs as you swallow it down, setting your hairs on end. Instinctually, humans know danger when they sense it, and by that same measure, they’re usually smart enough to hide before they get found. You might be simple prey in the eyes of the strong, but you hate the feeling deeply, and avoid it where you can.

You’re always aware of eyes that trail you, and you can smell it in the air.

The burgundy walls and nice chandelier bloom like a flower when it gets dark out. It fits the business. Like moths to a flame, that warmth lures men with a promise of a warm body and expert secrecy, and usually that’s plenty. Luckily for you, most of them leave before their wives start to wonder, which means you don’t have to deal with the drunk and impatient by the time you come in for a shift by early morning. Your days are easy, if you pretend you don’t know what types of people stumble home from their rooms in the seedier back of the building. Smelling of booze and body fluids and most of all, sex. That’s how it is.

Sorcerers are people too, by your cousin’s words. He’s not wrong. By the types of people that come in and out of the doors day and night, he made a smart investment starting this place a few years ago, and you’re grateful to get to work here. There’s no place for small-fry cursed energy users out in the daylight— and you’re not exactly dying to lay your life down for others in the first place. It’s this, or even less savory jobs for those people like you, who see things that others don’t. You’re more than happy with a simple life sitting behind the front desk, and going home to crash before the grosser individuals have a chance to harass you.

Which is why your skin itches a bit when the soft cling of the bell sounds so late it’s early. You’ve barely had enough time to open the doors. For not the first time, there’s a soft buzz of a warning sign that greets you as you sigh. Isn’t 5 in the morning a little early for even the more degenerate types? You get up to hang your jacket in the back room as you hear heavy steps make it into the foyer, and swallow. The slight pulling of cold under your skin has your lips pressed tight, swallowing. They don’t ring the bell, don’t yell or break things, don’t even talk. But they also don’t turn to leave.

So you smooth your hands down your pants, and eventually walk back to your spot behind the counter. It’s still dark out, still has the uncomfortable pressure that lingers as you cast a quick glance around the room.

And all you see is eyes that pull a cold shiver up your spine so quick it freezes you in place. The dark figure is splayed out with his arms over one of the couches, but those sharp eyes don’t move an inch from you when you meet them. Narrowed in their cold, metal blue darkness, and all-consuming. The man is not young, not old - but definitely older than you, scarred and quiet, and you can’t help it- when that foul, dangerous taste wells up in your mouth in the form of saliva.

After only a few seconds, you grab the phone and ring a number one, taking it off the horn for your own safety. It rings as the man gets up with a sigh and walks towards you, only leaving the space of the desk between you two. There's a soft mumble on the other side of the call, but because the horn is pressed to your desk, you can’t make out exactly what’s said before the customer - you assume he’s a customer, judging by the foul sort of stench of death that follows him around - clears his voice.

Only a sorcerer can have that sort of smell, and no sorcerer would enter here if not out for one thing. You don’t normally do intake, you realize as your hand trembles just slightly. You leave the horn of the phone for a pen instead, and try to rid your throat of the thick block that pushes on your windpipe. “Welcome. How can I help you?”

The man’s hair is messy, lazy, much like his clothing is; and he takes a moment to look around before his eyes flick to the stack of notes before you, the phone, and then you again. “Ah, uhm. Are there rooms open this late? Or early, I guess.” He ends up saying, a bored sort of lilt to his deep voice. You can’t even meet his eyes, but you can feel the painfully intense stare that doesn’t move from you again as you put on your best smile.

“There- should be, yes. Hmm, let’s see. Do you have a preferred girl you’d like to see here today?” Your hand only stops shaking when you press the tip of the pen to paper, if only to give your hand something to do as you quickly flick between the pages of the book.

“Not really.” He runs his hand under his nose, before leaning both forearms onto the desk and invading your space too much. You barely resist the urge to jerk back entirely, and feel the heat travel between you two. See, you were never able to fight curses. But you did always have a good nose, and his presence is like maggots crawling around under your skin. It’s unbearable. Your lids flutter as you stop flicking, and just focus on not throwing up entirely. Every part of him stinks of rot, oozing danger enough to suffocate you.

You simply pick one of the names at random, and start digging through the shelf for the correct key as fast as you can. Your heart hammers in your chest like that of a hummingbird, and is almost loud enough to keep you from hearing him when he speaks again. You can’t quite bear to meet his gaze, but one look up at his mouth reveals a tiny sort of curl to his lips that’s just as upsetting as the stench that swirls around the room. Everything feels wrong, and you want to stop yourself from hurling your guts out over the table. The man taps his finger on the counter a few times. “Are you new?”

Your head shakes faster than you can think about the answer. It wouldn’t be of any use lying anyway. For some reason, you feel like he’d be able to see right through you. When you finally find the right key, you feel like a weight lifts from your chest, and you slide it across the stone towards him. “I always work the morning shift, I don’t do nights.”

“Hm.” He doesn’t need to say anything else. Only when you slide the paper form across the table too, do you notice the call has disconnected - you’re not sure for how long - and you manage to force your eyes up to face him for just long enough not to seem impolite. But your blood still feels uncomfortable and itchy, even when he slowly picks up the pen and starts writing his name down at the top of the form. After a few seconds, he clicks the pen to his chin, and looks down at you with a coy smile as he straightens up. “Actually, what about you? You’re a skittish, little thing, and I have a bit of a hunger for something light and fresh today— I had the longest night ever.”

His scar pulls when the smile gets a bit more predatory, and you feel pinned in place like an insect under a magnifying glass when he aims the pen at you. “Looks like you’re a good listener, sweet girl.”

“I- I-” you start, stepping back until your back hits the wall and even then, there’s not nearly enough space between you and him, “I just work as a receptionist. I don’t do-” You might puke after all. Those eyes only seem to get wider when your bottom lip wobbles, and you feel the sick sense of glee he gets rather than see it. You don’t think -no, you know- you couldn’t take him in a fight, but still your fists ball up tight.

The lift dings though, to your relief, and a familiar face rushes out to give you an up and down. Your cousin’s got a bed head, deep grooves under his eyes as he jogs up beside you. “What the hell, you’re fine! When you didn’t respond on the phone I thought something might’ve happened to you.” You can’t say anything back, but you’re so glad to see him your mouth drops open and a little whimper comes out of your throat despite yourself. The young man frowns, before glancing to his side and - pauses. You can’t exactly place the expression he gets, but he must feel what you’re still feeling laced in the air, because he blinks a few times before taking a step back. “What’s this?”

“I was just telling him I’m- o-only a front desk worker,” you start, shuffling uncomfortably when those steely eyes find your body, giving you an awfully unsubtle once over. Pig. He doesn’t even bother to hide the way he’s undressing you with his eyes. Your cousin thankfully hums in agreement, and crosses his arms over his chest. “So-”

The brazen noiret doesn’t hesitate to nod though. And the confident tone from earlier doesn’t waver a bit. It’s like he’s barely inconvenienced by your statement at all. Like you’re playing hard to get. You’re not. "That's fine by me. But I’m going to be the exception.” Under his sloppy clothing, there’s no doubt he’s fit. He’s tall, and obviously wired with thick muscle that makes his shirt cling to his biceps, even more when he crosses over the furniture to reach a hand out to you, and make your shivers so much worse. “Come, little deer. I’m gonna have some fun with you.”

Your cousin places a hand on the other man’s shoulder though. “She’s not that kind of employee, sir. I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, or else-”

“Or else what?” You swear you can feel a pin drop when his eyes finally move away from you, now at the other man. Your heart still beats wildly. “How about this, huh. You let me play with your little friend here, and I’ll decide not to kill you, her and then everyone in here for making my long night even longer.” He doesn’t even have to straighten up for you to feel like he means it. Even without flashing a weapon, or pulling out some fancy cursed technique, do you feel the increase in thick waves of tension; drowning you in that same, rotting stench of incoming disaster. You can’t ignore it, can’t do anything but gasp shallow, little breaths when he does round on your family, squaring up to him.

Though they’re both about as tall, the stranger’s built like a brick wall. He must know that, because he laughs. “I’ll be very nice to her, don’t worry.” His eyes tell everyone daring to take a peek that he doesn’t mean it, but at least you don’t flinch when he looks at you this time. Ah, that’s right. You really do hate sorcerers. The black haired man walks past to come grab your arm, and tosses the key you provided him earlier high into the air before catching it. It instantly is too tight, and hurts. You plant your heels into the floor, hang back with your whole body. You want to scream. Your other hand claws at his strong palm -wrung like a vice around your wrist- and you start to whimper.

“N-wait, let me go. I don’t work here like that, I- leave me alone, let me go!” You get pulled along anyway, like you’re a toddler throwing a tantrum; he yanks you with barely any effort and sends you stumbling behind him. “No, I don’t want- aniki! Aniki, tell him- I’m not- I’m not for sale.” Hair whips around as you try to plead with the man left standing in the lobby, but though he looks guilt-stricken and apologetic, he doesn’t move from his spot. You don’t have a say in the way the man dressed in all black drags you behind, even when you try to make yourself dead weight and stop him. “No, no, no, wait, please! Kou aniki! Kou~ help me!”

You get it.

“Let me go! Let me go, pl-please! Hck.” Your voice breaks when wetness spills down to your hot cheeks. Really, you do get it. But the lamb still spooks when presented with the gun, even if it doesn’t run.

You’re sat on the edge of the bed as tears run down your cheeks and drip off your nose.

You can’t imagine it makes for a very appealing sight, but whether it’s indifference or sexual gratification, it’s clear your grief doesn’t matter to him. Toji, he said his name is, but you only know that ‘so you can cry it later’. It makes you sick - the sight of him makes you want to dig your nails into your own palms until you bleed. This is how it is for the weak everywhere, right? Sit and wait to die. As the cold embraces your body again, you sniffle, but wipe the tears away. You’re not a fan of waiting.

If he’s going to do it, better do it quick. Before you decide to start biting anyway. The dim lighting of the reddish room doesn’t do anything to warm the mood except make you even more aware of him as he kicks off sandals, slowly, demanding attention. He stares you down like a predator keeps an eye on his prey. The scent is still suffocating, but there’s a more alarming feeling blanketing your senses now. You’re scared. There’s nothing you can do about it, it’s in the goosebumps on your skin as he walks closer, and you scoot back onto the soft mattress to avert your eyes to yourself.

You’d rather go out kicking and screaming- but with your fear ran so high, you settle for the second best thing. “So, you’re not going to kill everyone, but just me, huh?” He’s taking off his belt as you ball your hands in the fabric, and force yourself to watch him under heavy lashes, with as much hatred as you can. “You like that? Scaring girls half your size?” You’re not sure either why you’re running your mouth. It must be the high of incoming death. “Does that make you feel powerful?” He doesn’t even pause, and pulls his shirt over his head to drop it aside too, then licks his lips.

After a slight moment of silence, he just shrugs. “Yeah. It does.” You scramble back until you reach the head of the bed, and pull your knees to your body. And the man crawls closer anyway, reaching to grab one of your ankles and drag you back. You don’t know why you’re struggling. It’d be easier if you laid down and died. As if reading your mind, he chuckles as he yanks you down until you’re spread out on your back, and pins you in place beneath his heavy body. “Don’t be so frightened. I’m not actually going to kill you.” He pushes over you, and makes sure you’re nose to nose when he talks next, basically drooling as you try to escape from him. “Just going to hurt you pretty bad. Don’t you like that?”

You struggle against him, but it’s not enough. He ties your hands to the bed painfully tight, letting the frayed edge of the rope burn into your skin each time you move- and proceeds to cut your clothes off with the knife that was hidden in his waistband. The torturous pace at which he does everything is almost worse, setting your entire body on end with anticipation. You thrash against him as he places a thigh either side of your body, and grabs your face in a large, rough hand. Once again you feel reminded that you’re really nothing in the face of someone more powerful. It’s frustrating. It’s annoying, and hurtful, and a migraine starts gnawing at your head as you glare up at him. And he almost pouts at you in mockery. “It’s cute that you’re trying so hard. You can cry, you know?” He leans in to lick along the shell of your ear down to your neck. “It’s going to happen sooner or later anyway. Why deny yourself?”

The hot touch of his tongue sears into your skin like it’s poison. You try to pull your wrists loose again, to no avail. The skin just feels achy and burning. “That’s really what you want to do, right? Cry for mommy and daddy to save you?” When he pushes back up to your mouth, laying his filthy lips on you again, you’re quicker than you think - and actually manage to bite him. It’s not enough to cause much damage before he jerks back, clenching one hand over your mouth to shut you up. But he runs a thumb along his bottom lip, and slowly starts grinning. Blood glitters on that finger before he licks it away, and raises his dark eyebrows at you. “Aren’t you brave…”

Before you have time to prepare yourself, that heavy palm meets your cheek, stinging it all over and rushing blood to the surface — it’s hard enough to pull real tears out of you, and your nose to start running as you bury your face into your arm. The sting spreads under the surface like fire. The low chuckle he lets out is mean and predatory, definitely when he takes that as an opening to start groping you through your bra, and soon that’s shoved up too to let him pet all over you. “Good. I don’t have to feel bad about all this, then.”

“Mh- hck-,” you whimper, trying to ignore the painful tugs he gives your nipples, pinching you. It still sends heat to your belly, and somehow that’s the most embarrassing thing of all. You hate him. More than anyone. “I-”

“Don’t say you’re sorry. I won’t believe you anyway.” He quickly whispers back, leaning in to force his mouth to yours and kiss you, tongue pushing against your teeth until you give in. He tastes like blood. His own, from the cut that’s not yet closed up; and he kisses like he’s trying to consume you. Rough hands knead and toy with your tits until you start squirming, before they glide down and make enough space to peel your panties down your thighs torturously slow. “Ahh, you look good like this. So pretty. Stay there.” He chuckles to himself as he gets up and you whine, not for him, but more his dragging it out. It’s not like you have a choice about staying…

When he comes back to you, something cold makes you jerk your eyes open. It’s something long and capped metal at the end, not sharp enough to stab you clean through— but it’s still hard and sharp and anxiety has you freezing below him. “Wh- what, what are you-” Would anyone even come help if you screamed?

Toji slaps the thing into his palm a few times, before those mean eyes glide over you, and you find yourself crossing your legs tight to protect your most sensitive areas instinctively. The sound of the metal whipping through the air is more than enough to put fear into you. Your lip trembles when he gets back onto the bed, and mirth plays in his eyes. “This is going to hurt.” Then he whips his hand down and instantly, your eyes shoot open with pain. Blood splatters as he cuts you open, each impact leaving a cut and nasty thumping that will make a bruise, telltale sign of a cursed tool.

“Ack- no, no- please stop! Stop, stop, please! Please, it hurts! It hurts!” Your eyes clench shut, but tears well up and come out anyway, making tracks down your cheeks. It stings so bad, and after even just a few lashings, you can’t stand it. Everything’s glowing and burning, hot all over as your knees knock together. Another whip has you trying to pull your arms out harder, to no avail. You don’t want to look, but the pain in your hands tells you that the heat running down your arm must be blood. Didn’t he say he wasn’t going to kill you? “Please, please, Toji. I’ll do anything! Anything, please- j-just no more.”

“I refuse.”

“Please~” you sob, only opening your eyes to see how he stands bent over you with his tongue caught between his teeth, head tilted in curiosity like a dog. The whip is dripping red, hot blood down onto his hands, and though it seems impossible to have so much blood coating everything- it’s yours, right? He stays quiet for a moment or two, and the thick tears wobble over your vision. “Please, I don’t want to die. Please. Please. I’m -” your throat closes up when he leans his heavy weight down over you and hovers his lips over your mouth, “I’m beg-begging you.” One hand comes up to grab your face, and he buries his nose into your throat, where a wet tongue starts swiping along your skin.

The soft groan he lets out is foul, coming back up with his mouth full of your blood, and he grins. “Keep going. Beg like a good girl~” Then he dips down, forcing his tongue and the coppery, familiar taste into your mouth, melting his lips to yours as he hums. His strong chest meets your naked, pitiful form as one hand comes down to yank your leg up around him, and the kissing gets more distracting, warmer, deeper — you want him to stay just like this. “Keep talking,” he whispers again, lower this time, and when you’re opening your eyes his stained hands are back to kneading your tits. “You’re sort of cute covered like this, whining like a baby. C’mon.”

Red’s covering everything. Every cut on your body is searing and tight and painful, and he’s pushing his thumbs along the closing wounds as if he’s trying to leak every last drop out of you; but you can’t really feel it. It must be adrenaline you feel coursing through your veins like a drug, goading your heart into pumping so hard you can see it bounce through the skin. “Pl-please.” Your chest rattles, as he watches you. As he degrades you, lifting both your legs up to your chest to spread you for him. “Please, Toji. Please f-fuck me instead. I w- need you to.” He takes the knife used to cut off your clothes, and ever so slowly drags it along the supple inside of your thighs.

And though you jerk, and your jaw clenches while tears fall, you can’t help it. You’re shaking your head, but your pussy clenches around nothing. “Please, please, need you. I’m sorry, I want- I want it. I wan’it… daddy.” Despite the short inhale he takes, sharp eyes pinning you beneath him like the crying mess you are, it’s not his reaction that has you blushing, heat filling your entire face with that cottony feeling. You’re so fucking weak. It’s pathetic.

“Hah,” he snorts when watching you wiggle and cry, presenting your wet, little hole to him, “whiny brat.” His hand lands onto your pussy and it makes you jerk again, squirming against his strong grip, before he turns his palm to grind into your clit and his fingers teasing into the soft folds. The wet squelching doesn’t stop the stinging tingling down your entire body, but - it’s also so unfair. You can feel yourself drip as his thick fingers slide in and out of you again and again, pushing into your plush walls just right. “Call out for daddy, go on.” You don’t want to know how much of it is blood, or how much is your own body betraying you.

You don’t see when he takes off his boxers, now finally as naked as you are - but you do see it when he starts rubbing the head of his heavy cock over your slicked up slit, catching your clit every once in a while. He cocks one brow at you at your silence, and softly hums a deep, raspy breath. You really are weak. “Daddy, daddy, please- pl-hck- please put it in, I’m losing my mind.”

“Seems like it,” he mumbles back, a cocky grin reappearing right before he grabs himself by the base and leads his fat cock inside you with no further warning. He’s too big as soon as he shoves himself inside halfway, grabbing your hair as you wiggle against him. The other half is forced deeper as his cock bumps your walls, makes your pussy drool and clench, and your mouth hangs open as you try to keep from screaming. Your back lifts off the bed a few times, legs opening wider to make room for his thick thighs as he bottoms out and stretches you too thin. “That’s a nice noise.” He’s laughing.

You can’t relate. Your entire body feels wound too tight, legs locking around his glutes in the naïve hope for some reprieve— before he pulls back and holds himself above you. Scared pecs and arms flex when he pulls all the way out, only to thrust back in too deep and have you choking on it. It’s hitting so deep it leaves you speechless. “Make it again,” he gloats as he chuckles into your face, before kissing you again, and this time he bites your lip, hard enough to taste copper. Oh, fuck. You cling onto the ropes for dear life with your numb fingers, and try to wrap your legs back around him with a choked whimper; but you can’t.

You’re shaking, and your pussy’s clenching and sucking around him hard each time his hips meet yours and heavy balls smack against your ass. You feel like he’s going to fuck you through the wall. Drool’s mixed with the blood you swallow, letting his tongue melt to yours, and make you even more needy for air. Each pump inside you gushes more slick out of your cunt, lewd noises and ‘pap’s filling the room along with his grunts. And you only pull away to gasp, and get pulled down onto him again and again. “Daddy, daddy, I’m- gonna- cum.”

And he plants a hand on your throat to squeeze until your eyes cross, free hand going to hold your shivering thighs in place as he buries his cock deep into your plush walls. “Dumb, dumb girl- I don’t need- ugh- you to tell me that.” You’re folded double entirely as he keeps the rhythm entirely ruthless, and your belly starts tightening under your body jerks shut around him, crying out. You can’t even feel your hands anymore, and your breathing’s so shallow and confused you’re lightheaded. Your toes curl so hard you feel like you’ll pass out, but Toji doesn’t stop. Not even when hot ropes of cum fill the heat of your spasming pussy up and spill out— he doesn’t even slow.

#kinktober #toji x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #toji smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #tw.dark content #tw.lashing #tw.noncon #tw.blood #tw.marking #tw.daddy kink

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malanor3 · 2 months

Text

In My Soul

<NSFW>

PLEASE READ FIRST BEFORE CONTINUING

Prompt: Astarion’s heavy gaze is something that throws you into a tail-spin when you catch his feverish glances. On this particular day, he was practically undressing you with his eyes.

Pairing: Fem!Tav x Astarion

Tags: Light angst, smut, intense eye contact, fingering, cunnilingus, basically Astarion is a munch, fluff if you squint really hard

Word Count: 4,833

A/N: i’m sooo sorry this took so long, i was trying so hard to push through and make sure it was perfect but it might be a bit clunky. i write on my phone/ipad and have to edit it in post on tumblr 🫣 but i hope you guys like it i worked really hard. it’s been a few years since i’ve written anything proper but i’m pretty proud of this. it got me all hot and bothered so i must’ve done something right hopefully 😫

Nothing irked you more than when you were in the suffocating heat of battle, and in a fleeting moment catching familiar crimson eyes boring into you through the settling dust.

This was important. Focus was imperative. Yet you couldn’t ignore the rosy heat that crept on your cheeks— the feeling deep in your stomach as if it was doing somersaults. It was silly, really, and that’s why it irritated you so much.

You wanted to confront Astarion— wanted to tell him how distracting he was; how insufferable that simple act made you feel. You knew, however, it would forever be an excuse for him to torment you more. You could practically see him chuckle, pat your head, and then fixate his eyes tauntingly on you. You wanted to tear those beautiful eyes right out of his skull.

You figured you would have a moment of peace when you’d made camp that evening, but that was wishful thinking on your part.

Mending the bright and blazing fire that illuminated your dim surroundings, you couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes being on you. Curiously, your gaze wandered the camp. Shadowheart was snug in her tent just a ways from you. Karlach and Wyll seemed to be in deep conversation, paying you absolutely no mind. Lae’zel had been sound asleep for quite some time, and Gale was just across from you, but he was too busy reading to take notice of your analytical gaze. That only left one person unaccounted for, and your stomach dropped at the realization.

“Something the matter, darling?”

Your perception seemed to fail you as he took you by surprise from behind—your backside bumping into his towering figure as you jumped in shock. Peering over your shoulder with the most annoyed glance you could muster, you’re met with his mischievous glare. The rolling of your eyes indicated to him that what he was doing was working— and he loved to see every muscle in your face twitch at his efforts. You simply returned your focus to the fire.

“Would you believe me if I said no?” you remarked sarcastically as you poked and prodded the dying embers. Your ears perked at the chuckle that rumbled in his chest, but you tried your best to brush off the melodic sound.

“Hardly.”

As expected, you weren’t hiding it as well as you thought. The annoyance—the absolute aggravation that coursed through you. You tried your best to brush it off.

His movement was swift as he sat in the space next to you; pressing his shoulder into your own. The sudden contact made you stop momentarily, but not long enough for him to take notice. At least, you hoped not. You fought every urge to look into those eyes.

“You seem quite tense, darling. Is there anything you need? Anything I can do?” His voice dragged as he ever so slightly leaned into your ear, knowing full well at this point he was flat out taunting you. Your breath hitched slightly when you felt his hand rest on your thigh and gripped just enough that you almost forgot what was wrong, but reality struck when his fingers traced dangerously close to a certain spot, and you could feel the rage boil all over again.

You huffed as you threw the poker down, and Gale seemed to snap out of the fixation with his book at this. He peered over the top edge of the pages, but you were too hot with fury to notice. Maybe I shouldn’t be so nosey, he thought, but I don’t think they notice me anyway. Gale pressed the book desperately into his nose.

You stood and turned to Astarion with a look of defiance etched into your features; pointing a finger so close to his face he almost went cross-eyed.

“You’ve done quite enough for one day.”

He laid a hand on his chest as if taking offense.

“Sweetheart, whatever do you mean? I’ve done absolutely nothing wrong.” He purred, his eyes peering into the very depths of your soul. Seeing him beneath you sent shockwaves through your fingers, and the mention of just that singular word was enough to send you completely over the edge. Sweetheart? Sweetheart?! Who in the Hells does he think he is?!

In that moment, you could feel that consuming feeling take over every connector in your brain, and your stomach churned. You cursed the way your body deceived you before groaning, turning, and stomping off defiantly.

“I need a moment. Alone.” You huffed.

Astarion’s gaze followed your figure all the way to the tent in amusement before you shut the cloth behind you, and after a moment, it was clear you would not be returning. His gaze returned to the fire in front of him. It was only just a bit of fun; he told himself. I could’ve done much, much worse. The poor dear.

“So… do you think she’s gone to occupy herself, Astarion?” Gale’s amused chords rang from behind the pages of his book—himself now sat back comfortably after what he’d just witnessed.

He admitted it was all quite silly, mostly because you’d fought with him a few days previously about your real feelings for the vampire and completely denying them. Gale knew you were just saving face, but it ran much deeper than he’d anticipated. Even if you wouldn’t admit it he knew you liked Astarion. As much as that fact made his brain chemistry practically disintegrate, it was only because Gale had taken interest in you too. You’d made it clear that you just wanted to be friends, and he was respectful of that. Now he was faced with a dilemma; how to get the vampire to treat you the way you deserved. Gale was not convinced thus far that he could trust Astarion, and especially not with their precious leader.

Astarion flashed him a taunting grin.

“Well, if she was, she would have invited me, of course. Tell me, Gale, do you even know where the clitoris is?”

The wizard sat there baffled before collecting his things and beginning to stand. He huffed, much like you had, and scowled in the vampire’s direction.

“I’ll have you know I am well endowed in the pleasure department, thank you very much. Not that it’s any of your business, anyway.” Gale spoke, rolling his eyes. He lingered momentarily as he thought about his next words methodically. He would not risk waking to fangs in his neck, so he let out a tired sigh before parting his lips to speak.

“She’s rather fond of you, Astarion. I just,” his breath caught in his throat, “I just think you should be careful with her. She’s more than just a pretty face. Much more.” The wizard’s hand waved about in the air for emphasis. Astarion examined him carefully in the dim light of the fire and saw the genuine concern that adorned his features, and at this Astarion’s eyes softened slightly.

“If we can agree on anything, Gale, let it be that fact. She’s… definitely something.” His head nodded in earnest. Gale felt his thoughts relax at his words. Though he wasn’t fully confident in Astarion’s motives, at least there could be a start. After all, they shared a damn camp together along with most of their days. He might as well get used to him. With a final passing glance, Gale retreated to his own tent to engage in much needed sleep; leaving Astarion with his own rampant thoughts.

He had to admit that he absolutely adored the way you would get so worked up over his advances. No one had ever tried so hard to reject them— if they even tried at all —and the thought of it made his mind go crazy. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t been thinking of stretching your sweet cunt open; tasting every inch of skin you had to offer, absolutely ravishing you like he’d never had a drop to drink. It kept him up most nights, but it was only because you were playing hard to get. He knew whether or not you wanted to admit it; you needed him, and that thought was enough to solidify you as his prey.

But then there were those innocent glances, or sometimes even the smallest, feather-light touches you’d grant him every so often. Even the sound of your voice he found was a sweet symphony that cradled him in the warmest embrace; a feeling he hadn’t felt in all his 200 years of living-death. To say the feeling alarmed him was an understatement, but he figured it had to be a side-effect of these damn worms. Maybe his brain wasn’t functioning properly. Of course he couldn’t entertain anything real between them—the idea was plain insanity. She only serves one purpose, you fool. Stop playing games. You need her on your side.

As he pondered this, something strange happened. He felt the hairs on his body stand on end, almost as if electricity had coursed through the very make-up of his cold blood. An unfamiliar heat crept over his skin and warmed his cheeks. His ears perked at the sudden noise that erupted from your tent, and it made every cell in his body twitch. It took every ounce of him to stop the movement of his feet from approaching your abode, but the sweetness of that sound could not be ignored. All thoughts had been wiped from his mind as he closed in on the opening while his hand reached out to the cloth. He hesitated for a moment as his ears perked up again becoming aware of a new noise, and he couldn’t help but listen intently.

Tucked inside your tent you felt the heat building in the small space; your ragged breaths muffled by your own hand as your other worked tight circles on your clit. This is ridiculous; you thought. He was practically eye-fucking me. The damned bastard.

The image of his eyes flashed behind yours along with the feeling of his fingers trailing up your thigh; his breath fanning the nape of your neck. It drove you wild. You imagined him positioned between your legs; his tongue lapping at your juices as he fought to keep your legs steady so he could worship your cunt properly. I wonder how his curls would feel between my fingers.

You moaned at the thought, but pressed your hand tighter to your lips to avoid anyone hearing your lewd noises. You could feel your release coming, and with every circle your breaths became quicker and more difficult to conceal. Squeezing your legs tighter to create more friction, you felt the small earthquakes begin to erupt throughout your body, and a white veil shielded the world from your eyes. As you convulsed, you failed to hear the footsteps that approached your tent as your psyche was completely sabotaged with pleasure.

As quickly as you peaked, the electric feeling began to wane as your chest rose and fell in tandem with your animalistic breaths—grounding you back to the dull reality of your tent—while your fingers lingered over the sensitive bundle of nerves that twitched with painful aftershocks. You sucked in a deep breath and held for a few seconds before releasing the weight of your orgasm with it. Something in you felt so guilty and rotten for the act. We’ve never even had a decent conversation and your imagining him waltzing into your tent and absolutely destroying your cervix. Unbelievable.

Your hand slowly moved from your mouth to rest on the apex of your throat as if feeling a lingering hand there; like you were trying to fill an empty space that you hoped eventually would be awarded to someone. Your eyes peered above into the boring and equally uninteresting cloth that made your tent as your brain drifted to the Pale Elf’s captivating stare anew, making you lose your breath all over again. You knew there could be no future there with a happy ending, but would it hurt so bad to just entertain it if even for a moment? What if it could be everything you’d dreamed about, or conversely your worst nightmare? Was it worth the risk? Questions riddled your brain that you were too frightened to answer.

Then your body tensed with a sudden jolt when you’d finally heard it—the dirt just outside your tent crushing under someone’s feet. Before you could even look up from your very obviously lewd position you heard the swish of your tent flap, and your body did something similar to a cat arching it’s back in defense. You thrusted forward to cover what you could of your half-exposed body, and in the anxiety of it all your eyes met with deep carmine irises that were glazed with insatiable hunger. He was already halfway through the opening, but didn’t dare to dip even a shoulder in as his eyes raked over your figure. The scent of your orgasm lingered hot and fresh in the air and it maddened him to no end. Stupid Wizard. Why did he always have to be right? He recalled Gale’s intuition about you “occupying” yourself. Damn bastard.

There was a moment of tense silence as you both stared at one another—both in want and in need—but neither pair of lips could make out words. You clutched your blanket close to your chest to at least have a semblance of modesty, but you were fooling no one, and especially not Astarion.

“I’m sorry, my sweet, but I seem to have caught you at an excellent time.” His lips curled into a smug smirk as he drank in your reddened cheeks and your slightly parted lips. You were still hot from your orgasm, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to retort back with something equally infuriating and snarky. All you could feel staring into his eyes was a deep and ravenous sea of lust awash your entire being. Your lip caught between your teeth as you examined his face wondering what the hell you were supposed to say in a situation like this.

“I said I wanted to be alone. Apparently you’re hearing impaired.” You didn’t sound as sharp as you’d wanted to, but you frankly didn’t care.

“And yet your sweet noises were loud enough to catch my ear. If I didn’t know any better, maybe you wanted to be heard.” His voice dipped below his chords into a very slight growl and it ignited a flame in your stomach that couldn’t be satiated with mere banter. This required action, and a newfound confidence consumed your being as you leaned back in your bedroll.

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. But I hardly see why that gave cause for you to waltz in here preening as if I have anything to offer you.” Your teeth bared in a prematurely victorious smile as you examined his full figure that was now nestled into the confines of your tent. He towered over your sitting figure; the shadow of it reaching to every corner of the room. It seemed to grow as he advanced on you quite suddenly when you felt his foot briefly brush against your own to stand at the foot of your bedroll. He shook his head as he beheld the sight of you; completely suffocating in awe and wonder at your figure beneath him.

“Oh no, my dear. You see, I am the one who comes offering. I cross my heart you won’t have to lift a pretty little finger.” His words drip like honey as his figure begins to shrink, taking you only seconds to realize that he was now on his knees with his hands placed firmly upon your own bent ones. His eyes pleaded you for entrance between your soft and supple thighs as he squeezed your skin to urge you on. Your lips fell slightly parted as you contemplated what was happening, and that it was in fact real. You had only moments to come to terms with whether the decision was morally right or wrong, but at this point fuck morality. In that moment you saw the absolute desperation and need he had to make you sing for him, and you couldn’t deny that it made you blush from within as easily as your cheeks had. You rationalized that you had no choice but to part your legs underneath the weight of his palms—breath hitching in your throat has he crawled in the empty space between them before hovering over the entirety of your figure.

“What a sweet little love you are. Are my words so captivating that you’d part your legs at the mere sound of them?” His hand grabbed your chin with the most gentle touch as he angled your gaze to better see him. He wanted to look at all of you, even to the deepest part of your beautiful eyes. He rubbed a feather-light finger across your cheek as his fingers trailed down the same area on your throat you had imagined earlier. Just moments ago so empty, and now you felt completely beguiled at the touch. He awaited your response while his fingers trailed your abdomen.

“If it were your words, we would have been in this position a long time ago.” You breathily sighed as you felt his fingers playing at the threads of the blanket that covered your exposed lower half. His eyes didn’t waver from your own even as your own parted his to look at his hands that inched closer and closer to where you so desperately wanted him.

“Ah, yes. I do believe it’s my gaze that get’s you so bothered.” He grabbed your chin once more, but this time more firmly, to direct your eyes back onto his own. Your mouth suddenly went dry when you felt his fingers dip lower, just barely grazing the hood of your clit, and you fought to keep in a whimpered moan at the sensitive feeling.

“Don’t keep those eyes off of me, darling. I want to watch every moment of your pleasure.”

You let out a soft moan as his fingers began to work gentle, insatiable circles on your sensitive nub. The intensity of his gaze was the only thing keeping you grounded in the blur of pleasure that began to build so quickly due to how recent your last orgasm was. Astarion felt a carnal lust building in himself, nearly drooling at how slick your folds were given your recent release. He wanted to hear those sweet moans for himself, and this time by his own hand. Your cunt was so needy for him that it took no effort to slip a dexterous finger into your core, and then another because he felt so generous. Your hips bucked slightly to create more friction as you already felt your second orgasm of the evening nearing; cheeks reddening in embarrassment as you began clenching around his fingers. He knew you would come undone momentarily, but he was lost in the way your brows furrowed together. The crinkle of your eyes when he would hit a certain spot within you. Your lips so plush and agape, which allowed your soft moans to travel into his ears and strike the deepest part of his dead heart so effortlessly. You were an absolute vision in his eyes.

He closed the space between you with a soft and gentle kiss if only to fill the gap in time he knew which your orgasm would arise. His tongue barely passing your lips; you couldn’t fight the way your hands lifted up to rake your fingers through his soft curls, tugging at them for stability in the kiss that you deepened. His fingers moved at a delicious pace as he brought you to your climax, and you already felt an emptiness in knowing that this moment was over. Even if you hadn’t ridden it out completely—your lips still connected—you felt hollow. Like there was something missing. You felt the gentle tug of his teeth on your bottom lip when he dragged it out, and your throat couldn’t help but release a deep moan as he awarded you with a few more small rubs to your sensitive spot before parting you too soon. He read the desperation in you like an open book, spying the emptiness behind your iris’. Still staring at your gorgeous face, he brought his soiled fingers to his lips before parting them; his digits disappearing into his mouth and cleaning your cum clean off. There seemed to be a new vitality that erupted in him at the mere taste of it, and he couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of his pretty lips.

“I’m not finished with you yet.”

Your eyes widened when Astarion broke the eye contact so suddenly, but quickly replaced your shock with content as he connected his lips to the skin of your heartbeat. You couldn’t speak words as you were still hazed from your second peak, but allowed him to work at your body like putty in his hands. He never lingered in a spot too long as he kissed his way down your sweaty body, catching a nipple between his teeth teasingly as he did so which made you whimper. He never once broke eye contact as he shackled you down with just a simple look. You were utterly smitten with him and what he was going to do, and his plead to keep your eyes on him seemed like a silly request to you now. You couldn’t imagine doing anything else but stare at him.

Astarion began to salivate as he neared your sex, knowing full well how slick you were from his touch. The smell of your arousal had filled his senses entirely when he’d reached that aching spot. It was almost instinct to dart his tongue out to catch the dripping juices that flowed from your beautiful cunt, and it was exactly as he had imagined. Though he was a Vampire, and accustomed to a very obviously blood based diet, he wouldn’t deny now that he could live off of the sweetness of your cum alone. As much as he desired to burry his cock in you, he knew the look of your face when his tongue connected with you so intimately would be ingrained in his brain for eternity.

You brought yourself to the upright position; your hands bracing your body behind you to better get a view of this moment. He effortlessly hooked both arms under each of your legs and held firmly at your hips to better spread yourself for him. He didn’t hesitate for a moment longer when you’d situated yourself, and promptly connected his hungry mouth to the mess between your legs.

The feeling couldn’t be overstated; nearly bringing you to tears. It was beyond the amount of pleasure that a being could endure in a single evening, and yet with Astarion there you felt like you could do this for hours. The way his tongue traced devious lines in between your folds, and the way it would dip to tease your entrance. He fought at the idea of pushing a finger inside, but when your hand made home in his white curls he knew he had to make you cum by his tongue alone. He decided then to take your sweet clit between his teeth to suckle on it just right, and deliberately released a hum of satisfaction that he knew would drive you mad. The pained whimper he received proved that his efforts were a success.

You refused to tear away from his eyes. They peered up at you through delicate lashes, and they exhibited such strong hunger that it nearly overwhelmed you. Slipping an innocent finger between your lips to bite back something—anything— from escaping them, you felt his tongue moving faster and with more desperation. His fingers gripped at the skin of your hips so furiously that you knew there would be lingering marks, but you didn’t care. If it was your choice, you’d wish for every mark he gave you to be permanent; a constant reminder of this insurmountable pleasure. Gods, you couldn’t imagine anything in the entire universe feeling this amazing.

Your body shook with another arising orgasm and Astarion’s lips parted you briefly, if at all, to speak.

“So beautiful,” his lips connected with you once again, but only in a gentle kiss, “So delicious.”

He brought his lips back to your spot again to resume his pace, and you threw your head back as far as you could without breaking your gaze. Your orgasm fizzed inside of you more intensely than you’d ever felt before, feeling yourself clawing at the confines of your mind for release. It was too much, far too painful and you were suffering, but you absolutely relished it. You nestled your fingers back into his soft locks as you helped to guide his movements against your aching nub, and his perfect movements mixed with your direction was enough to bring you to the edge of your peak. Your chest heaved heavy breaths in anticipation for your release, and Astarion’s eyes only grew hungrier as his mouth turned animalistic; ravaging your cunt with so much force that you actually felt a stray tear dance across your cheek.

When the moment came, Astarion was completely enraptured. The taste of your cum was so much different at the apex of your orgasm that it nearly brought tears to his eyes; that something so sweet could only be sweeter. He loved how your body shook with passion as the feeling flooded your senses, but nothing was as beautiful as the view his eyes had been graced with. When it came to you, there were no doubts; you were definitely different in every aspect. Even when you rode your orgasm out against his lips, he expected you to push him away, but you never did. You only peered down at him with blood-bitten cheeks and a smile from ear to ear.

“If you’re going to make a habit of calling me silly pet names like ‘sweetheart’ and ‘darling’, you’ll be finding yourself in this position quite a lot.” A chuckle fought at the back of your throat when the words parted you, and you were relieved to see Astarion equally as amused. He rested his head on the ridge of your stomach while his hands traced light circles on the flesh of your legs, awarding you a toothy smile.

“Well, now I can’t imagine anything more enchanting than your ‘little death’, so maybe I should make it a habit. Of course, I’d only do that for my own benefit. Maybe a healing potion, or a new dagger. Definitely not for your pleasure or mine.” He raised a brow mischievously, and the tone in his voice let you know that he was only joking, because there was no hiding it on his face. He’d enjoyed the moment just as much as you, if not more. You were willing to bet now that he would stow away with you every evening to steal moments like this. Even he couldn’t deny that it had brought a warmth into him that he hadn’t felt in hundreds of years. He wanted to lock those images into the confines of his mind so that he might never forget them, replaying them only when he found himself engulfed in darkness with no hope of seeing the light.

“Definitely not. I couldn’t imagine anything more horrible.” You couldn’t wipe the smile off of your face, staring down at him in content. For the first time you could see him as he was; just a man. Your heart sang at the idea that maybe this was okay, and you’d both needed it. Maybe there was to be more in store for the two of you, but in this moment you were just happy with his presence.

He hadn’t even noticed he was lingering until you had fully flattened against the bedroll; your arms getting tired from holding your body up. He sat holding you like that for so long, laying against your stomach and gripping at your hips that he almost felt embarrassed. He’d never been one to linger after any sexual acts, but he couldn’t help but feel so safe with you. The comfort in knowing no words needed to be spoken. And as he got lost in his thoughts, you had already began to drift into blissful sleep with him attached to your abdomen, and he saw no reason why he had to leave.

So he stayed there all night, observing your peaceful face.

#18+ account #astarion #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 #reading #smut #bg3 astarion #fanfic #fem reader #18+ mdni #mdni #spawn astarion #astarion brainrot #astarion x reader #reader imagine #18+ content

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httpsghostie · 9 months

Note

I’m a new follower but I literally so obsessed it’s unhealthy. Like it’s to the point where I just daydream about the fics you wrote.

My birthday is coming up, and my dirty mind is restless.

I am not requesting a whole fic, maybe a Drabble about female reader with König and Ghost 🤭 and they find out it’s her birthday 🤭 and give her a very… big… birthday present. 😏😏😏. I am sorry 😂

(If anything makes you uncomfortable please ignore this.)

Big fan,

Love you. ❤️❤️

Birthday Gift

honestly? no words, we're the same

btw happy birthday!!!! wish you the best (by that I mean I hope you find yourself between ghost and könig)!! ilyyy <33

this is so filthy why am I like this

hope you enjoyyy!

Summary: it's your birthday and your friends want to give you a big present.

Word Count: 1,8k

Warnings: smut, Simon 'Ghost' Riley x female!reader x König, unprotected piv and dvp sex (dont b silly wrap your weenie), breeding kink, lots of pet names, no use of y/n

masterlist

On a typical morning of work, you found yourself casually having breakfast with Price. It wasn't common for him to be around for more than ten minutes, so you just enjoyed a little bit of bonding with your captain, who almost always treated you like a long distance daughter.

"You're gonna get older in a few days." He started, sipping his coffee. "Excited?"

"Yay, minus one year!" You cheered playfully and he chuckled. He was the only one in the squad who knew your birthday anyway.

As he finished his plate, he grabbed his hat from the table and excused himself off, and you followed your day with the chores you were assigned to.

A few days passed by and it was finally your big day, and you were woken up in the middle of the night by your teammates knocking on your door. As you sleepily opened the door, you couldn't hold back a smile.

They were in party hats, and Soap was in the middle, holding a definitely homemade cake, telling you to make a wish. You chuckled at the sight, a little bit of the pink icing simply falling on his finger. You closed your eyes and blew the candles, and they invited themselves in.

They thought of everything, they were able to sneak a few plates, forks, cups, soda and especially the cake into your room without disturbing any other soldiers. You all sat in a circle on the ground and ate the cake, giggling and chuckling quietly like you were all teenagers in a sleepover. Slowly they went back to their rooms, leaving you, Ghost and König behind.

They looked at each other nervously, and you couldn't comprehend what they were trying to telepathically communicate, mostly because emotions couldn't be displayed over the fabric that covered their faces. Ghost wore a simple black balaclava and König wore his usual t-shirt hood.

"So…" Ghost cleared his throat in annoyance at König's obliviousness. "We have a present for you."

"If you want." König added.

"If you want." Ghost sighed and rolled his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I mean- I do, what is it?" You chuckled in confusion, looking at them.

Ghost clears his throat and slowly gets up from the floor you were all sitting on. König follows his lead and they both stand towering over you. You get on your knees to get up too, but König's hand gently presses your shoulder back down.

"You know," Ghost starts untying the knot of his sweatpants and pulling them down together with his boxers, enough to expose his already hard member, "we just didn't have the time to wrap it."

He placed the tip on your lips and slowly pushed himself inside your mouth. What the fuck was happening? You thought to yourself, but you weren't mad, though.

König got rid of his clothes, tapping his dick on your face, and you pulled away from Ghost with a pop, jerking him off. Your lips met with the precum seeping out of König's tip.

"Been dying to know how those pretty lips feel around my cock." He said between gritted teeth as he entered your mouth slowly.

You bobbed your head up and down, trying to take the most you could, but they were so big. Ghost held your hand firmly around his cock and slowly fucked your fist as König held your hair in a ponytail so it didn't fall on your face.

You pulled away once again and sucked Ghost eagerly, gagging when he brushed his dick in your throat. Your hands jerked König off at the same speed you bobbed your head.

König couldn't contain himself anymore, he needed to be inside of you, he needed to stretch you out. He picked you up and threw you on the bed, taking your pants off instantly. Ghost took his clothes off, and then your shirt, and positioned himself beside you, one of his hands holding the back of your knee to spread for König.

The austrian man spared no time to go down on you, his tongue swirling around your already wet folds. He moaned into your clit as he masturbated, imagining how tight you'd feel, Ghost watched as you moaned under him. His tongue worked magically, and you lost it when he inserted two fingers inside of you.

But he was impatient, he only did that for you to grow used to his not so subtle size. He towered over you and lined himself with your entrance, pushing it deep inside and holding your legs around his waist.

“Bet she’s fucking tight, eh?” Ghost murmured, lost in the heat of your pussy swallowing such a fat cock. He got closer to you, his dick hovering over your face. You licked a long strike from his balls to his extremity, and took him all in your mouth. Your hand grabbed his thigh as he was kneeling beside you, and signaled for him to define the pace. “What a slut, huh? Want me to fuck your mouth, is that it?” He growled in his thick accent.

You nodded anxiously, the feeling of being stuffed almost too overwhelming. He fucked your mouth ruthlessly, inevitably making you choke and gag, drooling all over yourself. König watched as you had fun on Ghost’s cock and buried himself deep into your cervix, mercilessly pounding into you.

“You take us so well, liebling.” He whined, holding your hips firmly. You couldn’t help but moan at the sudden roughness, but your moans were muffled as your mouth was filled. Ghost’s hand traveled to your clit, where he started to draw circles and rip a few more cries from you. König held your thighs against you and railed whatever thoughts you had on your brain.

“Be a good girl ‘n cum for us.” Ghost demanded as he pulled away from your mouth and you were finally able to gasp for air. König’s thrusts combined with Ghost’s hand stimulating your clit were too much to take, and the knot inside of your stomach rapidly increased.

“Fuck, I’m so close.” You whined pathetically, and they didn’t stop. König reached a spot you didn’t even know he could, and you weren’t able to hold it anymore, orgasming on his dick and clenching around him.

“There you go, engel.” König said, pulling out. He caressed your fucked out face and lifted his hood to plant a kiss on your lips, that turned into him sucking and biting your neck.

Ghost grabbed you from the waist and flipped you over, pulling you by the hips and brushing the tip of his cock all around your vulva. König sat down in front of you and jerked his throbbing length slowly, not breaking eye contact with you. Something about his innocent eyes behind that mask was so sexy. Ghost entered your abused hole and gave you a second to adjust, he wasn’t as big as König, but he was far from average too. Everything about them was far beyond average.

The soothing touch of Ghost’s hands on your ass were soon washed away when he started to fuck you viciously, digging his nails on your flesh. König also impatiently grabbed your hair and made you suck on his cock, one hand holding the base of it. He didn’t push you, instead he held your head firmly and bucked his hips up in order to fuck your mouth. You looked at him with innocent eyes, tears rolling down your cheeks.

“‘M gonna use this pretty cunt of yours as my fucking toy.” Ghost muttered in a husky voice. “Show me how needy you are.” He gripped your hips so strong you swore it would bruise. He slammed his weight on you relentlessly, your moans vibrating on König’s cock.

“That’s it, hase, ‘feel so fucking good.” König whimpered.

The sounds in your room were unholy, the air was filled with lust and sex, and you felt another climax approaching. König pulled you up, manhandling you to straddle his lap, and made you sit on his shaft. You whined at the sudden loss of Ghost’s dick and the denial of your orgasm, but gladly bounced on König, your ass jiggling up and down. Ghost came right behind you, lining himself with your pussy and thrusting hard into you, making you feel even more filled, if that was even possible.

“Look at this,” Ghost said, “taking two cocks in your pussy.” You moaned in response, your forehead laying against König’s chest. “Tell us the truth, you’ve been dreaming about this, don’t you?” Your eyes meet König’s, and you nod. His head falls back and he rolls his eyes. “I asked you a question.” Ghost chokes you firmly, raising your chest.

“Yes, fuck.” You whimper, closing your eyes as another wave of heat clashed against your bruised flesh. “I’ve been needing this for way too long.” He smirks.

“Don’t tell me.” He says in a low and cocky tone. “That’s why you stare at us like there’s no tomorrow, huh?” He said in between breaths.

The heat of an orgasm hits you again, and you cry out in pleasure, legs trembling as König holds your thighs firmly and looks deeply in your eyes.

“I can’t…” You manage out a moan. “Too much…” Your brain was melting at this point.

“Shh, hase, didn’t you say you wanted this?” König pleaded. “Shut up and take your birthday gift. It’s not our fault that you’re a needy whore that won’t stop coming on our cocks.” Ghost widens his eyes at the sudden words of the impatient König beneath you, and you can’t help but feel embarrassed, cheeks painted red with shame. König whined, digging his nails even deeper on your hips, desperately trying to reach his high. “Want my cum inside you?”

You press your lips together, feeling sweat dripping on your spine as Ghost holds your arms on your sides, and you nod. He inserts two fingers in your mouth, smiling when you gag on them. And he comes. You feel the warm seeds filling your pussy as he pulls out, leaving Ghost to chase his climax alone, fucking his cum back into your walls.

He unexpectedly pulls out and grabs a fistful of your hair as he gets up and stands in front of you, his cock already coated with König’s cum. He jerks himself relentlessly in front of you until he cums on your tongue, his head falling back and rolling his eyes. You swallow his bitter cum and suck him a few more times.

“Well, happy birthday.” He says, lifting the mask and giving you a peck on your sweaty forehead.

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kombuuuu · 8 months

Note

Shy baby Miles (42) malfunctioning when he kiss him for the first time

“Baby, look at those!”

“Yeah, Chiquita — I see ‘em.”

The clashing of vibrant golds shone harsh against the night sky. Fireworks sparking at heights unreachable to you.

The sight was gorgeous.

Shimmering pyrotechnic as golden as the favoured hour cast a reflection on waving waters. It seemed as if everything flowed, warm lights in every place you looked.

It was romantic, something picture esc.

There wasn’t a lot of simplicity in this city. But the decision to be simple just this once — seemed unanimous. And like cavemen to fire, you all seemed awed.

Standing at the tallest vantage point you both could find, hands gripping rooftop railings until your knuckles peaked — you cast your eyes over to Miles.

Watching his eyes shimmer in glossy admiration and his lips part just the slightest bit. You were overwhelmed with the urge to kiss him.

To have your cliché ‘kissing under the fireworks’ moment disney channel drove into your head.

“[Name]?”

He was looking at you now, nervous and awe ridden. Like he couldn’t bring himself to look you in the eye, despite thinking they were the prettiest things.

You softened a look at him. Your hand catching his in a sweetened link, always connected — if not by touch, then by the memories that plagued you both.

“Miles.”

“You okay—!”

Your lips brushed his, hand dropping his own and sweeping to cradle his cheek in a featherlight touch. Dancing on the tip of your toes to graze a kiss to him.

He froze — words dying in his throat and a sickeningly adorable blush fainting his cheeks. The boy was smitten, and nervous from it.

You dropped back to your heels, hand falling back to grab at his own and facing the gold sparked sky once again.

He breathed out a harsh breath, stuttering chest and beating heart making it difficult for him to form words. You had kissed him.

Hours spent pondering over how to kiss you, on if you even wanted it — and you had been the one to do it. Without a second thought.

He lifted his free hand, and now he was one to bring your attention by the pad of his fingers. You giving him a smile that had him swooning when he slid his hand just behind your ear, his thumb rubbing over your cheekbone.

He leant down to kiss you again, and this time he met you half way. Catching you in a love much more firm than the first time.

His lips were soft, round and a little chapped. Your chapstick soothing his nervous lip bites. His hand was so warm against you, and you leant closer into his body heat. Miles accepting you with a hand to the small of your back.

You disconnected from him with a wavering gasp, smile stretching his lips into something contagious, and you found yourself giggling back at him — caught up like two teens in a romcom.

You suppose you fit the part.

He pecked your lips again, quicker and less intense. Smiling goofily against your skin and you let him, eyes almost closing with glee and hands grasping his jacket collar before smoothening against his chest.

He trailed small peppers down to the angle of your jaw and laughed lightly again.

“You plan that?”

“Think I took you outside in 9° (48.2°f) weather for no reason?”

“Not even to see the fireworks?”

You watched him glance back up to the sky, before returning to your face. Nothing could compare to what’s in front of him.

“Ehh—,”

He grumbled another laugh and straightened up again, looking down at you over his red-tipped nose and blush ridden cheeks.

“Aaron’s gonna call me a pussy.”

“Probably cause I watched you pussy out eighty fuckin’ times—,”

“Aye, watch it, Ma.”

He pinched your side and you laughed. Joy falling from your lips in a sweet tune. He watched, dazed and in love.

“I’m joking! Swear!”

“Oh, sure.”

#໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა #across the spiderverse #miles morales #spiderman across the spiderverse #miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales #spiderverse x reader #miles x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles my beloved #miles morales prowler #miles molares #miles morales x you #miles x you #miles g #miles morales headcanons

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brewstersbru · 6 months

Text

I want to get more used to writing low stakes lil blurbs so please enjoy this, also posted on ao3 under my pseud brewstersbru :) hopefully being able to post it here will bring the perfectionism anxiety down lol

***

Astarion is perhaps the one of the most interesting, irritating, but somehow undoubtedly kind people Halsin has ever observed. Though he’d flay anyone who had the audacity to tell him it.

The duties of an Arch-Druid are many, and often arduous in nature, but nonetheless rewarding. And it all boils down to watching, observing, noticing little idiosyncrasies in the people he leads. The people who trust him with their lives and wellbeing. Halsin has become well-accustomed to watching, as any good leader must and it is no surprise that the skill has followed him to where he is now, camping with a menagerie of illithid-infected souls, searching for a cure.

Though, with this aforementioned observational skill, Halsin has gotten the distinct impression that many of them seek quite a bit more than a simple cure. Absolution, freedom, a clearer path forward. It is so often in the words they don’t say, rather than those they choose to reveal. For example, Gale never talks of an ‘after’, a concept all of the others seem so enamored with, save Astarion, of course. He simply hums and offers a small melancholy smile when conversation turns to the topic of everyone’s plans after they find a cure. It wasn’t difficult to figure him out, not when Halsin had been paying attention. Gale is convinced that dying is the only way to atone for his sins. To be forgiven.

Halsin’s heart aches at the thought; poor child, it is not a sin to wish to be loved. But he digresses.

Astarion, curiosity that he is, had immediately captured Halsin’s attention when he’d joined camp. On the surface he seemed shallow, and ill-tempered, but Halsin has not gotten this far in life by making quick judgements on a person’s first actions after he’s met them. Sure enough, he’d caught a glimpse of the real Astarion not even two days later.

It had been a long day, brimming with long, arduous battles after which they had all come out exhausted and bloodied. Wyll, with his lion’s heart, had fought especially ferociously. Perhaps too much so. His robe was torn horribly across the front and he’d had to be propped up as they trudged back to camp, unfortunately neither Halsin nor Shadowheart had maintained enough energy to heal anyone.

Astarion had almost immediately wedged himself under Wyll’s arm, curling an arm around his waist while also berating him as they walked. “What in the hells were you thinking jumping out like that! You’re weak, leave the feats of strength to Karlach you dolt!” And on and on. The words were cutting, and not entirely fair, but still, his hands remained gentle against his friends skin and he walked slowly so as not to jostle his injuries.

Shadowheart- exhausted herself, likely with a beast of a headache after all of the concentration spells she’d been slinging- had told Astarion to shut it, only hearing the words and not the worry behind them. He had obliged- another kindness-as his eyes darted around the scrunched pain painted over her expression and his own expression set in resolve. Still, he performed a pout, and everyone took it for what it was- or rather, what he’d wanted them to take it for: Astarion being his usual surly self.

Halsin took it for what it truly was, a man doing his best to aid his friends and keep their spirits high after such a grueling encounter. He’d thought they needed someone to direct their exhausted irritation at, lest they start picking themselves apart instead (something Halsin had noticed, but was unaware Astarion knew of) and offered himself like it was as natural as breathing.

The kindnesses didn’t stop there, either. When they made it to camp he’d taken Wyll to his bedroll as the others collapsed onto their own. Rummaged through the camp supplies until he found a potion of greater healing, then did not feed it to Wyll until he was half asleep and delirious.

“Mmh… Dad?” Wyll had murmured, eyes squinted closed as he moved his head around. Astarion had simply hummed and continued feeding him the potion.

For the rest of the night he prepped ingredients with practiced efficiency and left them next to the communal cooking pot for when the rest of the party woke for breakfast. Halsin had needed to trance for a few hours, loathe as he was to turn away from the scene, and when he returned Wyll’s robe had been mended, folded and placed aside his head. Astarion was nowhere to be seen. Halsin hoped he’d found his way to his own tent for a short trance.

Elves do not need to sleep, this much is true, but even a short trance would have done wonders to refresh and replenish his energy. Astarion had to know that.

Halsin is still unsure what the other elf had done for the rest of that night, but he’d emerged from his tent with just as much practiced, haughty vigor as he’d always had halfway through breakfast the next morning.

“Astarion! Good morning! Thank you for aiding me in our trek back yesterday.” Wyll had smiled at him, something warm and molten in his eyes. Astarion simply huffed and waved it off, “Well, dear, someone needed to lecture you about the dangers of heroism. None of these dimwits were going to do it.” Wyll smiled and the others gave halfhearted protests from where they’d been digging into the breakfast Gale had prepared from the ingredients Astarion had left out for him. There was a sparkle in his eye as he caught sight of them eating it, something almost like pride, if Halsin had to name it.

The others had been dumbfounded, asking around the campfire about who had done it. When no one came forward they’d simply shrugged and taken it to mean that the culprit was too humble to take credit. Besides, who were they to question a miracle such as this. No one asked the vampire if he’d done the deed, why would he have? He doesn’t eat food anymore and he doesn’t even really like them.

It’s exactly what he wants them to think. Halsin has to give him points for his dedication to maintaining pretense. Wyll doesn’t mention his robe, but his eyes dart from hand to hand trying to scrutinize any bandages or pricks that might indicate a late-night sewing session. It’s a smart move on his part but Astarion, it seems, is a masterful tailor. His fingers are unbandaged and unbloodied.

Everything carefully thought out and executed. Every kindness meticulously planned and hidden. He truly is an enigma. He would rather his friends believe him selfish and cruel, than see him for the gentle, caring man he truly is.

The kindnesses continue, always carefully implemented so as to erase any and all suspicion that Astarion may have had any part in it. He continues to be outwardly difficult and mean so as to cover his tracks. Halsin can do little but watch, as he always has, that is, until Astarion’s little kindnesses eventually and inevitably extend to him, too.

He is not so easily fooled, has seen past the performance that the other man puts on for some reason that he is still trying to parse.

It’s a quiet evening, the battles of the day had been hard, but nothing they were ill-equipped to handle. The shadow curse has been getting to Halsin, though. Seeing his greatest failure in all of it’s unbearable misery has been weighing on him. And he knows his struggle is not invisible to his fellow party members. They seem unsure what to do about it, though, seeing as he is a centuries old former Arch-Druid with life experience they could hardly fathom. He enjoys his time at camp but cannot say with certainty that he is truly close to anyone there. Though he wishes to be, he is afraid they’ve placed him on somewhat of a pedestal after his actions in the grove, forgetting that he is fallible and full of emotion, same as them.

He very nearly misses it, when it happens, too caught up in his thoughts to hear the slight shuffling near the entrance to his tent. Thankfully, he doesn’t, and emerges with a small smile.

Astarion freezes at the sound of his emergence, crouched over something small and wooden at his feet. Then, almost as if possessed, his shoulders relax and he looks up with a devilish grin. “Halsin! My dear, I was just looking for you. Some wretched little thing of a child has gifted me with perhaps the ugliest wooden duck I’ve ever had the misfortune of laying my eyes on. And these things are in no way ‘beautiful’ on a good day. I cannot have something so… distasteful loitering around my tent. You mentioned you liked ducks so I thought it would be of better use here. Otherwise I’m throwing it in the river.” It’s a lot of words, more than the vampire generally tends to use in casual conversation, as much as he pretends he’s an insufferable chatterbox. That’s the second clue Halsin gets that perhaps there’s more to this than Astarion is telling him. The first being the way he froze, as if he hadn’t been expecting Halsin to be there. “Looking for you”, right…

Astarion stands and nods at the duck on the ground. It’s small, a little misshapen, but it’s got hearts carved where it’s eyes should be and for some reason Halsin finds that hopelessly endearing. He kneels and cradles the thing gently in his cupped palms.

When he looks up Astarion is grinning at him, still in that sneering performative way he likes to, but in his eyes that shine of pride makes itself known. Halsin likes the duck, it’s obvious. And Astarion is proud of himself, but he’ll never tell. He’ll never let anyone else be.

The third clue is dripping sluggishly down Astarion’s finger, stark and red against his deathly pale skin. Halsin remembers the first time he’d whittled. His hands had looked much of the same. He smiles.

“Thank you, Astarion. This is very good. Would you like some salve for your hand?”

Astarion’s eyes widen, only fractionally, but noticeable if you’d been looking in his eyes. And Halsin had been. Still, his expression shutters and he pastes another smirk on before turning his nose up at the duck.

“Thank the Gods, that ugly thing is your problem now. And I’ve no idea what you mean dear, my hand is perfectly serviceable.” He rushes away with a perfunctory wave, likely to rob Halsin of the opportunity to call him out on his bullshit. Halsin only smiles and cradles the duck. He’d bloodied his hands for this, for him. The surge of affection that washes through him is entirely involuntary but wholly welcome.

Astarion wakes from his trance the next morning to a gift settled gently at the entrance of his tent. It’s a wooden cat, masterfully carved from a dark oak and undeniably beautiful. Perfectly fitting the vampire’s tastes and sensibilities.

A note lies beside it in what he recognizes to be Halsin’s messy scrawl.

Thank you, Astarion, again for the duck. It thrills and delights me to know that you care. It did make me feel better, you know, and I still have that salve if you need. All you have to do is ask. I thought I’d return the favor, seeing as you do so much for the camp but refuse to let anyone see it, or thank you.

I see you. I thank you.

Yours,

Halsin

#bg3 #astarion #halsin #bloodbear #halsin x astarion #halstarion #gale being a wet cat #wyll being dashing and heroic #can you tell im swooning #i care him sm #you guys dont get it like i do #covert kindnesses #astarion is kind of like those cats that look away as they slide food towards you #like ‘gods ur pathetic but /here/ i guess’#brublurbs

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pizzaapeteer · 4 days

Note

maybe a little drabble or oneshot about theo who's usually not shaken by anything or anyone but he get's super flustered when confident!reader starts flirting with him💕

Gobsmacked - Theo Nott blurb

a/n: hehe loved writing this, muah bb for the idea and thanks to @suugarbabe for helping me with some of the dialogue <3 cute divider found here wording: 840 Warnings: f!reader

He watched from afar, eyes drinking in your every move, the lively chatter that bubbled around you, laughter buzzing from the surrounding audiences. Mostly aggregating sucks ups who sought advantage in your kindness, at least that was Theo’s clouded impression. His fingers lift the dying cigarette to his lips, inhaling the last sweet release of nicotine as it fills his lungs.

The afternoon sun shone upon you, radiating the sweet glow of your face, the epitome of sweetness displayed in your expressions. His eyes stayed trained on you, struggling to comprehend how someone could be so mesmerizing, even by the little things they did. From the way you walked gracefully, with a spring in your steps or to how you carried your books, a generally simple task, could entice him in, admiring the way you held them close to your chest tenderly, almost protectively.

Merlin, you were fucking pretty.

At the sight of you departing the crowd and heading inside, Theo stood with eager legs following you, ambling afterwards with a determined goal set in place. Flicking the butt of the cigarette in the nearby bin, his mind whirled with positive thoughts. Today was the day he’d speak to you. You had been quite the challenge in trying to approach, that was clear by the multiple of others accumulating around you. Something Theo wasn't used to, making him stall his advances.

Not that Theo was afraid of seeking you out amongst a crowd, knowing undoubtedly he could grab a girl's attention, even in a throng of other guys. Confidence wasn’t what he was lacking, but rather he found gratification in hitting on a girl alone. Quite presumptuous of him, relishing in the cat-and-mouse ploy that occurred, watching a girl get flustered from the direct, intimate conversation.

Theo knew now as he trailed behind you entering the library that once he got you alone, he’d be able to win you over. It normally only took one or two lines before a girl was swooning at his feet, and from how he had studied you, he was quite convinced you wouldn’t be any different. His usual surge of confidence pulsed through him while he made his way towards the desk you had situated yourself at. Helping himself to a chair he sat, his tall frame looming over you even while seated. A brash grin stretches on his face as he opens his mouth to give his signature line.

Taken by surprise at the sudden interruption, the sound of a chair creaking and the darkness that loomed over your lighting had you lifting your eyes, instantly consumed by a vision of deep blue orbs gleaming. The infamous debauchery Theodore Nott had been anything but subtle lately. It had been easy to take notice of the tall boy observing you within the shadows of his own Slytherin pack. You knew he was probably there to give you a line, but instead chose to beat him at his own game.

“Oh, if it isn’t the Italian Stallion himself,” a small smirk graced your plush lips. “That is what they call you, isn’t it?” Tilting your head in a cheeky manner, watching a pink hue cross over the freckles of Theo’s cheeks. “Well, I am flattered to have caught your undivided attention. It is my attention you want, right? That’s why you’ve been staring at me all those times. So sweet can’t seem to take your eyes off of me, can you honey?” You watch his cheeks flush redder, his mouth parting slightly. It was an amusing sight, seeing someone who oozed confidence freeze up, causing you to smile complacently.

“Cat got your tongue, pretty boy? You’re looking a little shaken up there for a confident lad like yourself.” You couldn't resist the opportunity to continue teasing the flustered boy rendered speechless at your bold words. Unable to help yourself, your hand reaches across to pull out a trick you’d seen him do a dozen of times, caressing his face gently, you tauntingly move his jaw side to side playfully. “Aw, are you blushing? Is this the first time? Am I witnessing a momentary occasion in history?” You keep going, voice laced with a distinct mockery, and hints of sarcasm with your sharp tongue on a roll, basking in his silence. It takes all your strength not to explode into a fit of giggles as Theo's jaw still hangs open. Moving your fingers, you push at his chin, closing his mouth for him. “Don’t go catching flies, Theodore.” Your eyes gleam with a playful tease.

His astonished expression marks your cue to leave, as you gather your belongings, not wanting to spoil the moment, soaking in the satisfaction of playing Theo at his own game. At your leave into the depths of the library, Theo stays sat behind at the worktable, watching your figure disappear amongst the scrapers of bookshelves. Wracking his brain on how the bloody fuck you had just bested him at his own game. And why it made him that much more infatuated with you.

masterlist

#hehehe I loved how this turned out #tyyyyy mari my boo #flustered boy theodore #theodore nott #theo nott #theo nott blurb #theo nott drabble #slytherin boys #my requests

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honeybleed · 2 months

Text

— ★ BLOODSHED // SHINAZUGAWA SANEMI

content & warnings: fem!reader, canon-verse, canon typical violence (blood, vomit, death, reader has suicidal thoughts due to survivor’s guilt), conflict (sanemi insults reader a bit but hey) smut (unprotected sex, missionary) mdni

author’s note: saw the demon slayer movie n had thoughts 🫠

word count: 1.6k

Too late.

That was the only words that echoed in Sanemi's mind.

He told you to stay behind the bushes whilst he investigated the scene. Your nose wrinkled at the acrid stench of flesh.

Sanemi was not a childhood friend. He was a familiar face to you when you were both children but he was nowhere near a friend.

The tragedy that struck his family in your village was whispered among the residents. But never fully discussed under Sanemi's blood-curdling glare.

He eventually left to join the Demon Slayer Corps. His younger brother followed in his footsteps.

Fast forward to the present, you were caught amidst the pattern of young women disappearing. Sanemi and Iguro had swooped in to rescue you.

The Wind Hashira and Serpent Hashira bickered amongst themselves as you were thrown across Sanemi's shoulder against your will before they parted ways.

In Sanemi's book, he would've dropped you home with no further explanation. His duty was done.

But as he made his way into the heart of the village, boots slick with blood, and the coppery tang of it mingling with the earthy scent of churned soil wafted to his nose, he realized it wasn't going to be as simple as he wanted it to be.

Corpses were strewn across the ground like discarded puppets, their lifeless forms contorted in unnatural poses. Weapons littered on the ground. It was beyond unnerving.

His eyebrows furrowed. He told you to stay put, and he turned to see you crawling across the ground.

"Are they all dead?" You mustered out. The air was heavy with an eerie silence.

"...Yeah." Sanemi responded voice devoid of emotion, not able to meet your eye.

Your hands covered your mouth as you felt bile scratch your throat. Scrambling away, you felt your chest heave and you threw up with all your might.

The image of children crying and screaming as they cowered with their parents as the demons slaughtered them was too much.

A once bustling marketplace was now reduced to a graveyard, the stalls overturned and splattered with crimson. Laughter and conversation replaced with screams of terror.

That was the last thing you remembered before you felt faint and were submerged in darkness.

Your eyes blearily wrenched open. The atmosphere was different. From the destruction and hollowness of your home, there was warm light that shed through the paper screens and a fragrant aroma mixed with the scent of herbs.

Struggling to sit up, you felt a wrinkled hand press you back down onto the futon. You turned your head to face the kind face.

"Where am I?"

She didn't respond. Rather, she stood up, bowed and exited the room. Leaving you bewildered.

Your clothes had been changed and your feet were no longer scraped and bloody like they were when Sanemi rescued you from the demon's clutches.

Pushing off the covers, you could feel a presence. Your eyes focused on the shoji screen door, and sure enough, Sanemi was sitting cross-legged on the engawa.

He didn't bother to look at you.

"You haven't changed." You said.

He's still brash. Rude. But to you, maybe not to others it's just a defence mechanism. To push people away.

He didn't respond.

"Do you regret...saving me?" You finally questioned.

Sanemi felt his heart race. He was crushed with the guilt of all those villagers dying.

"No." He said bluntly.

"I wish you didn't." You spat and headed back indoors leaving him completely dumbstruck.

Sanemi felt rage boil within him. The vein in his temple throbbed as he saw red.

Within an instant, he shot up to yank the door open as he glared at you, breathing heavily.

"You UNGRATEFUL WENCH!" He bellowed.

You sat up from the futon, eyes widening.

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU JUST CALL ME?!" You screeched, livid at his audacity.

"You heard me, loud and clear!" He spat. "After what I did for you?!"

"WHY THE HELL WOULD I WANT TO LIVE IF IT WAS AT THE COST OF AN ENTIRE VILLAGE...?!" You shrieked, a lump forming in your throat.

The words stung him. All the guilt of the massacred village comes crashing down on him.

"YOU STILL LIVE." He seethed. "YOU TAKE THAT CHANCE I GAVE YOU, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!"

"What the HELL is left for me?! YOU SAW IT! IT WAS A GRAVEYARD!" You sobbed, tears spilling down your cheeks.

He turned away. His face was beet red, balling up his fists as he shook with a silent rage.

"But you are ALIVE, aren't you?!"

"What use is there being alive...?" You said defeatedly, not wanting to scream anymore as your body began to wrack with sobs. "Just do me a favor, and end my life."

"Don't ask me to do stupid crap like that, you hear me?" Sanemi hissed as he glared at you. "My blade is for those demonic bastards. Not airhead humans."

"I have no reason to live."

"I said, don't talk like that." He said sternly as he grabbed you by the chin and forced you to look up at him.

He practically was lying on you whilst you were sitting on the futon.

The two of you had emotions brewing. Unexplainable. And as terrifying as Sanemi could be, there was a magnetic pull between the two of you.

And it appeared he shared the same sentiment, as he instantly captured your lips for a hungry kiss.

First, your body froze. But when you registered this was something you wanted, with the way heat pooled deep in your gut, you returned the kiss.

Sanemi planted his large and calloused hand onto the back of your neck. He groaned into the kiss as your tongue ventured inside the recess of his mouth, caressing his own.

Hands grasping and shedding clothes off. Ripping, forcing and tugging at the fabric that seemed to be confining the both of you.

Your palms grazed and slid against the taut, firm muscle that was etched with countless scars. His fingers digging and kneading your soft and supple skin, the outlines of your curves and dips.

Pulling away from the heated kiss, gasping for air to latch onto the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

Closer, closer, he needs to feel you. Your limbs intertwine, Sanemi's digits gripping into the plump flesh of your rear to haul you onto his lap.

Your eyes flutter shut, it's almost heavenly the way his sharp canines sink into your throat, how he alternates between gliding his tongue and grazing the jagged edges.

He wants to devour you whole. And you'd let him over and over again. You want him, you'd let him tear you apart.

The way he growls gutturally as his achingly hard cock merely brushes against your soaked slit.

He pushed you back and began to palm at your breasts, kneading them as he met your lips again, lapping into your mouth.

"Fucking beautiful, y'know that?" He grunts between the sloppy kisses.

"You're okay.." You tease with a smile as your hands skim across his sides.

"I'm better than okay." He chuckles. You wince as he gripped and squeezed your flesh, marking you up.

He finally pulled away, his hands pinning your wrists down. His tongue dragged over his lower lip as his cock throbbed, the way you were spread out for him.

The steady forming red marks littered across your skin, the bite marks, your skin sheen with sweat, the goosebumps all across your arms and the way your lips had swollen.

"Tell me what you want." He rasped out, a predatory glint in his eye. He never thought sex could elicit the same high he got from massacring demons.

"I want you inside me..." You responded meekly.

“Anything for you.”

Sanemi let out a stutter as he slowly pushed himself inside, entering you was true bliss. The way your velvet walls accommodated him.

You mewled at how he stretched you out, your back instantly arching. He met your lips furiously, eyebrows furrowing.

"Want this whole place to hear you scream my name." He mumbled, sweat trickling down his forehead.

Sanemi nuzzled his face into your neck, inhaling your scent deeply as he began to thrust. You were a babbling mess as he buried himself in you to the hilt.

You whined as his nails dug into your hips.

"...Nemi." You mustered out pathetically, the saliva from your kissing dribbling down your chin.

"Need to...cum inside of you, make you mine." He grunted as he pounded into you relentlessly, grunting and snarling as he felt your slick walls clench around his cock.

The room was filled with the heady scent of sex and sweat as he drove you toward the brink of ecstasy.

"S'close, Sanemi..." You breathed out, his thumb dragging against your plump lower lip with a cocky smile.

"Let's cum together, okay...?" He whispered near your ear, uncharacteristically gentle.

You nodded and soon enough, your bodies were in sync, a cacophony of breaths coming in short gasps, moans of pleasure and skin slapping.

Sanemi felt himself getting closer and closer to the edge, feeling you grasp around him.

He kept his focus firmly on you, reaching to circle your clit, adding stimulation to push you over the edge.

Your walls pulsated wildly as he slammed into you, his seed spilling deep inside of you in hot spurts.

He instantly collapsed on top of you, panting heavily. It took a moment for him to finally peel himself off of you.

Your eyes raked over his face, your hand cradled the side of his face and he leaned into your touch.

Sanemi barely smiles. If he smiles, it's the thrill-seeking, adrenaline one he gets at the prospect of slashing demons down.

But as your thumb stroked his cheek, you were the only one to see Sanemi Shinazugawa beam at you with tenderness and warmth.

author’s note: if u reached this far tysm!! reblogs n interactions always appreciated hehe yeah btw i got a headache so sorry for any spelling or grammatical mistakes lawl

#kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #kny smut #demon slayer smut #sanemi shinazugawa x reader #sanemi shinazugawa smut #sanemi smut #demon slayer x you #demon slayer x y/n #kny x you #kny x y/n #shinazugawa sanemi #⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ nara scribbles

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sebsbarnes · 4 months

Text

psychopomp || tangerine

tangerine x f!reader

summary: it was that moment, underneath the streetlight, that tangerine knew he had no choice but to love you

warnings: death, dying, anxiety

word count: 1.6k+ ; ANGST

masterlist

a/n; can't lie team this one kinda hurts maybe not as bad as 'the days you meet' but its also a diff kind of hurt??? anyways enjoy? inspo from one of my fav songs

psychopomp: a spiritual guide to a living person's soul

it had been a year. one year since tangerine died on the bullet train. one year of grieving the man you loved harder each day that passed. you woke up each day wishing it was a dream, some sick fucking dream meant to torment you until it drove you mad but you'd still wake up. and when you did, tangerine would be lying next to you in bed, one arm draped lazily around your waist greeting you good morning.

it was only a day before tangerine died that the two of you finally spoke those three words. it wasn't even needed truth be told. you both knew the love you had for the other whether it be your actions or words, it was evident.

"you are my everything," tangerine whispered to you one night. the confession came out of nowhere in the middle of watching an action movie. from his lap you looked up at him, cheeks turning red but thankfully the dull light from the tv masked the blush. reaching up you gently stroked his chin running a thumb across his bottom lip.

"you are my everything and more."

the memory ached. your skull felt tight and you screwed your eyes tight wishing away the painful memory. it felt too real. it felt like that night two years ago was unfolding at the current moment. you could almost smell tangerine's shampoo and feel the fabric of the couch on your legs. it's not real. the air held no fragrance and the bed sheets were a far sensation from the fabric of the couch.

"i don't think i'd ever be able to do life without you," you grinned lovingly at tangerine. he stumbled in his steps, caught off guard by the loving sentiment.

tangerine quirked an eyebrow at you, "why 'cause i picked out some peppers for you?" he joked holding up a plastic bag of peppers he just grabbed from the grocery store shelf.

the laugh you let out echoed off the walls of the grocery store earning some curious eyes. some may think it's silly to profess such a statement for an action that is so mundane but you were smitten by tangerine, and something as simple as grocery shopping was something you wished to never experience without him.

even though you lay there with closed eyes you felt your lips twitch into the smallest of smiles. you could remember the confused yet playful tone in his voice and the way he dangled the bag of peppers. you swore you could feel the tingling on your cheek after he kissed you and then whisked you away to check out. your fingers twitched to caress your cheek but your arm couldn't move.

it was beautiful, that night 366 days ago. the sky had never been so clear. the breeze drifted delicately across your bare arms. the distant sound of a mother urging their child that it was time to leave the park was met with defiance. it made you giggle, understanding the desire to stay out late and continue to play. tangerine was standing behind you, arms wrapped around your shoulders, head tucked into your neck. his breathing tickled your neck ever so slightly raising goosebumps. you weren’t sure if it was intentional but he was rocking the two of you side to side as you both admired the sky. the way the midnight blue encapsulated the fiery orange.

“i love you,” he stated as if it was the easiest thing to say.

and it was. it was so easy the way the vowels and consonants rolled off his tongue to form three simple words. three words used so much on their own yet when put together carried the weight of the world.

you turned in his arms that moved to your waist and brought yours around his neck. he watched as your eyes glossed over and shined back at him as if he was staring at a star.

“i love you, tangerine.”

"do you mean it?" he jested with a lopsided grin, the fingers on your waist pushing you closer to his body.

"more than you could ever possibly know... moron..."

you took a heavy breath through your nose. your chest ached the same way it did that night except this time your heart pounded from anxiety. you swear you can feel tangerine here with you, you can feel the way his fingers pushed into your skin, you can hear the sound of his heart beating.

his heart beating.

it's not possible.

"but it is," you heard a whisper somewhere far in the depths of your mind.

you heaved forward and your eyes darted around. the lights were too bright and you could barely make out the figure in the corner of the room through half-open eyes. you ran a hand across your face in some measly attempt to wake yourself up more. if you weren't tucked underneath the white sheets you would've fallen over at the sight before you.

"tan- tangerine. w-what? i don't understand, what? what are you doing here," your head couldn't figure out what the hell was happening.

tangerine appeared at your bedside, his smile pulled into a line. he sighed, "i think it's me that should be asking what you are doing here?"

you looked at him quizzically. is he serious you thought. before you could yell at the man you thought was dead for the last year, you watched him solemnly gaze around the room, the side of his lips twitching. you seized all motion besides the robotic movement of your head as you took in the room around you.

white walls and floors, a white bed. a large window into a hallway. there were people running back and forth. the door slammed open and in rushed a frantic man adorned in a white coat. you watched him walk past you and in front of tangerine as if he wasn't there. the man in the coat yelled out to someone behind his shoulder and despite being next to him his voice was distant.

"tan, i don't understand what's going on," you whispered with shaking hands.

tangerine attempted to blink away tears. his blue eyes were even more striking in this moment. he looked beautiful standing next to you but you couldn't ignore the grief on his face.

"there was an accident," he said with a cracking voice, "a bad one."

you turned to look over your shoulder but you were face to face with yourself. anxiety crept throughout every vein inside your body and you began to pant. you felt your chest concaving into itself and you felt the swelling of your throat. you watched the doctors and nurses poke and prod at your body, the monitors unleashing their high-pitched songs.

"i don't understand tangerine what is happening. please, what is happening," you pleaded through panicked tears.

"you were in a car accident darlin'," he swallowed back the sob he wanted to let out. he placed his hands on your shoulders forcing you to face him now.

and you could feel it. you could feel the weight on your shoulders. you could feel the warmth on his hands. he was here. you could feel him, you could smell his cologne, you could see the way his eyes were looking at you, you could hear his voice.

"b-but you're dead... how. does that mean...?" you trailed off waiting to hear his answer as the tears brimming in your eyes finally broke.

"no, my love. not yet," he murmured, his hands rubbing down your arms attempting to bring you comfort, though the tears streaming down his beautiful face made you feel worse.

"i can't do life without you," you pleaded tugging at his hands, threading your fingers through his.

tangerine closed his eyes and steadied his breath. he desperately tried to ignore the way your eyes shined just like that night 366 days ago. the way the streetlights and the tears in your eyes shined as you confessed your love for him was a far cry from the reason why your eyes shined right now. but he couldn't help but be transported back to that park. he wished with every fiber of his being that that night never ended. that you two stood swaying back and forth muttering 'i love you' until dawn broke and day turned into night and night turned into day and you stood there on the pavement until your feet wore holes into the ground.

but he couldn't.

so he let your hands drop to your sides and brought his arms behind his neck. you watched as the gold chain lifted from his chest and he enclosed your hand with his pressing a firm kiss to your forehead.

"it's not your time, darlin'," he grieved. you felt the gold chain snake its way into your palm.

you felt a jolt of electricity course through your body. you could feel it in every bone, muscle, and vein and it ripped into your lungs and it tore you awake. you were met with the frantic eyes of doctors and nurses, some of whom sighed in relief.

"almost lost you there!" one of them chucked nervously fidgeting with a monitor and tubes.

unfortunately, that was the least of your concerns. your eyes scanned every inch of the room looking for tangerine. he was here. he was just here. he was real and alive. he had a pulse. his chest fell and rose because he was alive, he was breathing. you felt his hands on you and you felt his lips on your skin. so where was he? why don't you see him?

"excuse me where did that gentleman go?" you asked.

one of the nurses turned to you confused, "i'm sorry?"

"the man that was standing next to me. long hair, mustache, in a suit?" you pried hoping for any form of recollection to grace her face.

"i'm sorry miss but no one has been in here. i've been monitoring you alone for the past two hours until you started to flatline," she stated confusion still riddled in her tone.

all you could do was mutter the quietest of ohs. you looked down at your body that was now re-tucked underneath white sheets, an iv poking your left arm, a cast protecting your right hand. the white walls and floors with the large window in the wall, just like you had seen.

you noticed the nurse hunch down to the ground before standing up and examining something.

"oh this must be yours!" she exclaimed as you brought your eyes to look at her.

"how cute," she giggled, "there's a little tangerine on it."

time moved in slow motion as she placed the gold necklace in your hand.

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lyomeii · 1 year

Text

you fell first, but he fell harder (pt.1)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ where your feelings are correspond by the person you loves the most after years of being your heart being broken by others.( word count: 2021 )

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ft. terdeo lapireon.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ warnings: yandere themes ( but very light!), gn! reader but mentions reader wearing a dress, blood, reader almost dying,

₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ a/n: took more time to write this more than expected. but it’s here :) i enjoyed writing. originally, I was going to write for more characters, but seeing the length of the one-shot, I decided to just put Terdeo here, since I never wrote for him before and also, because I little obsessed with him currently.

you consider yourself lucky.

many and many times you’ve fall in love, most people do and that’s normal! yet, you were never the first, second or even an option to them, leaving you behind and making you feel not only invisible, but made you scared of falling in love again.

it’s took many years to happen again and when did happened, you got that sense of fear once again. that common sensation that you are unlovable, invisible and not worth of love, you felt that over and over, that’s it, until you realize that they love you too.

at first, you thought to be a joke or your own mind playing tricks, yet their touch on you and the sweet words they spoken to you made you recognize they were genuine. it’s took time, but after many times being betrayed by cupid, someone have finally corresponded to your feelings.

Weirdly to say and see that Duke Lapireon is married. None expected to see the man with someone at his side, not after the whole fiasco with his previous wife. Many are curious to know why and how someone like you who is quite known for being cherubic, sweet and serene to be around.

The wedding between the two of you was simple, just Terdeo wearing the common clothes for the groom with the lack of expression on his face as usual. And you, wearing the white dress that compared to your now husband was ethereal, making you resemble an angel and receiving a little compliment from him. As he kissed you, you became part of his family and took the infamous surname.

While many theorize why you got with the Duke, Terdeo knows exactly why, after all, he is the one who asked for your hand. In order to prevent Dodolea from marrying him and to avoid her parents forcing to do so, he searched for someone who not only is willingly to marry him for the glory of being, but also that isn’t too noisy to find out about the family’s curse, luckily he found you.

As the second born of a Count and a Countess, you grow up in a loving family unlike many nobles and the fact that neither of your parents force you to get married to someone by money was what called his attention. The moment he arrived unexpectedly to your household, both of your parents asked why the suddenly visited, Terdeo told them he is here to ask for your hand in marriage.

Firstly, they thought to be a mistake, why would Duke Lapireon ask their second kid’s hand if he easily could choose anyone else. But he confirmed, asking if he had a small talk with you alone and both of them let him enter the living room where you were staying.

When he began talking with you, Terdeo quick realize that you did have a crush on him, like most lady either have. But you never force those emotions on him nor dares to confess your love, not to mention that you almost forget about his existence when you learn that he has a boy.

Asking for his son’s name, you continue to question the Duke about Selphius’ taste and if the little boy would like it if you bring toys or sweets to him. Honestly, Terdeo was surprised that you were excited to meet his nephew. It's rare for a noble to be happy if their partner has a child from previous relationships.

You moved with him shortly after the marriage, so excited to meet Selphius that you didn’t notice (or didn’t care) about Dodolea trying to approach you outside the cathedral. That caught his attention even more, and seeing you introduce yourself to the little boy was quite funny.

The little heir knew that his uncle had married, but thought that whoever was the person wouldn’t care about him and he was surprised to see you gifting him with so many gifts such as clothings, sweets and taking your time to get to know him better. Selphius quickly becomes closer to you, yet he is afraid that he will hurt you with his blood. Time goes on with you getting to know the other members of the Lapireon family.

Sercia is a woman who is cold at first, but opens her heart when seeing you interact with Selphius, taking the role of the boy’s caretaker which remembers her of her late family.

There is the doctor of the family, Phineas who is Terdeo and Sercia’s uncle who always looks busy reaching for something. He doesn’t reveal what, but he is someone good to talk with and he enjoys the pastries you send him often.

Then you met Gloria, the matriarch of the family. A woman who pierced red eyes never left your figure during her stay at the household. She questioned every person of the household if any of them told you about the family’s curse. As much as she is happy that none of them reveal the dark truth, Gloria fears that when you discover it, you won’t hesitate to leave this family behind.

One day, where Terdeo didn’t need to work, he took you and Selphius out to have a small picnic in the garden, something that you begged him for a while and that he needed to prove the cookies you and Selphius did for him.

The gentle breeze is cool, meaning that some leaves fall over the three of you, not that none of you much care about it, except Selphius who is trying his best to not let the weather ruin your looks. Moment like this make Terdeo knows he made the right choose when selecting you as his significant other, not only you fit to be Selphius’ parent, great the family with love, but also dedicate the time of your day to help him.

Many hours you spend at his side helping with the paperwork, carrying the files side to side as he guides you. The silence moments where you made a cup of coffee to help him stay awake during the late hours of the night. There was one time where he passed out after long hours of working and you (somehow) placed him on the couch then gave him a blanket to let him have a few hours of proper sleep, but you didn’t return to your shared bedroom, you stayed with him and slept in the chair closer to him.

Did those little acts make his heart softer with you? Yes. Terdeo suspected for a long time that your personality was a cover to only get the positive side of the family, however he changed his mind with the time you live along with him and the others. Even though you signed a marriage contract with him to make sure that you won’t try anything wrong or bad, but why does he regret doing so?

Slicing a piece of pie and giving it to Selphius, the little boy eats it almost in seconds, too excited. While Terdeo drinks a glass of water and you arrange the rest of the food, the boy accidentally cuts himself with the knife. The tiny drops of blood hit his vest.

Both Selphius and Terdeo panicked. They can’t get the blood on you, so the boy runs away from you while protecting his hand or at least he tries so. You grab his hand and as Terdeo failed to hold you back. The red eyes of both Laperion witness a small drop of blood hit your face, the same who made you fall in the ground.

Screams called the rest of the family to the garden to see the disturbing scene. Phineas carried you inside as Gloria and Sercia stayed to comfort Selphius. On the other hand, Terdeo is trying his best to keep calm as he makes his way to follow the doctor.

Unexpectedly, you are still alive after you enter contact with Selphius’ blood, even with high fever and incapable of waking up, you are breathing and muttering words like that sound the names of the family. A miracle that you are still with the living after getting contact with the cursed blood, something that he is thankful for.

Days pass and you don’t look better nor closer to waking up, hands cold as ice and your forehead in flames, your condition isn't the best, but he is glad that you are stronger to hold on to the symptoms and keep breathing as more time goes on.

As expected, the news that Duke/Duchess Lapireon become so Ill that they can’t move away from the bed roam the nation. Their parents made sure to visit to see and Count holds his wife to prevent the woman to scream or fight Terdeo. The woman broken down in the young man’s arms while crying how he sweared to protect them at any cost.

Other people in the nation payed their respect for the Duke/Duchess, sending tem flowers to remember the sweet person they are. The local orphanage sends a letter to their husband to showcase the many acts of benevolence you did there, the children send so many postcards wishing for a better and healthy recovery. And of course, there are those who didn’t hide their true nature. Whispering how a gold digger like you should die, yet they put an effort to hide their faces from Laperion, but one person.

Dodolea was the only person who sent a letter to Terdeo with twisted comments, saying that since you got ill enough to be bedsick, then he would need to marry again soon. He was furious as he read the first few lines of the letter, didn’t hesitate to throw it on the fireplace and watch it burning slowly.

More time passed til you open your eyes to see Selphius reading a book in the chair near the bed. He didn’t call for anyone that moment, seeing his parents finally awake and asking how school was going. To think they just woke up and are already taking care of him is amazing. The two of them spend a little time together till he calls the others.

Unsurprisingly, Terdeo was the first to make his way to your bedroom and yet, he was the last one to speak anything. He just sat in the same chair where his nephew was and stayed in complete silence. Maybe he knew what to say, but preferred to stay quiet and enjoy the cozy moment between you and him.

As the others talk with you, Terdeo’s fingers brush against yours as everyone shows their happiness to see you better and awake. He doesn’t initially notice it, but sensing you entwining his finger makes it clear. Firstly, he almost let it go, but feeling the warmth and seeing that smile of yours after so long, Terdeo continues to hold your hand even after the family leave the two of you alone in the bedroom.

His red eyes don't leave you for a time nor he doesn’t let your hand out of his, Terdeo might never admit by words, but he fears that now you will break the contact and leave the family due to the accident.

“ I understand if you wish to leave.” Terdeo says, voice almost quivering. “ There will be much of paperwork, but I assure-“

“ No!” you interrupt him, raising your voice in desperation. “ I love you, Terdeo. I truly do and so do the others of the Lapireon family, there is no chance I will ever leave this place nor this family.”

You silenced him immediately with those words. He always knew you had feelings for him, but never expected you to have enough courage to say it loud and clear.

“ Listen to me, [name].” he let go of your hands. “ You didn’t recovery enough, we will have a serious talk about it when you get better—“

“ Terdeo!” you cut him off again, now inpatient. With your hands now in his cheeks, holding his face closer to your. “ I. Not. Leaving.”

For a few moments, none of you dare to speak a word after it. Terdeo is in disbelief again, he still struck with the words you just said. His cheeks are pale red like unlike yours, he knows what he has to do now.

You could feel your heart pounding as Terdeo slowly approach his face to your. They were in complete silence as he drew closer to you and when his lips met yours.

His lips were cold, yet brought warmth to you. It felt like a dream coming true, one that you never put much faith in. For a kiss that lasted so little, it felt that everything else faded away and all that mattered was the two of them, lost in each other's embrace.

“ I love you, [name]. It took me a long time to understand it, but I promise that nothing will separate us and we will be together til the very end.”

@lyomeii stuff || don’t repost

#yandere headcanon #yandere imagine #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere male #yandere boy #Terdeo Lapireon x reader #yandere terdeo Lapireon #yandere manhwa #manhwa x reader #yandere manhwa x reader #Terdeo Lapireon #my in laws are obsessed with me #my in laws are obsessed with me x reader #yandere my in laws are obsessed with me

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ineffablelunatic · 7 months

Text

Thinking about how in Sorry's the Hardest Word, Captain apologises so formally and struggles as much as the rest of the ghosts to say sorry to Alison.

And yet "I'm sorry" is the first thing he says to Havers after not seeing him for years. Apologising for disrupting the celebration, apologising for upsetting him, apologising for dying. Apologising for loving him. No airs, no neat military phrasing, no masking. Just "I'm sorry," simple as that.

I think that, really, says more than anything - that Havers was the only person he could be genuine around, that he could apologise to without the formal front that he put up during his life and still carries with him as a ghost. The only person who knows him well enough to see all of the meaning behind those two words, who doesn't see his love as a crime, who, in his last moments, tells him that it was fine, that he doesn't need to apologise, that he understands.

That he knows.

#capvers #bbc ghosts spoilers #bbc ghosts #ghosts s5 spoilers #bbc ghosts s5 spoilers

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targaryenrealnessdarling · 1 year

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Undisclosed Desires

Synopsis: You have been captured by Aemond and ordered to be returned to Aegon to await death, but passions of different varieties arise and undisclosed desires are laid out.

AO3 Link

Warnings: smut (18+) involving penetrative sex (but romantic cos I’m not made of stone), murder, sexual harrassment, choking (almost dying lol), some foul language too why not

Words: 4.3k

You shivered slightly, the cold now having penetrated your bones and sending a chill that seemed to rattle down your spine. You were not dressed for the nightly chill in a simple men's shirt and leather bottoms, not entirely becoming of a Lady, but those notions were abandoned long ago. You tried to rub your legs together to create some heat to warm your body, hands firmly tied behind you against a tree. How did it come to this, you thought to yourself.

You looked up to the moon high in the night sky, the only light that shone down on you and the surrounding woodland. You thought you had escaped King's Landing undetected, and your eyes closed at the frustration of how wrong you had been. The cool light of the moon somehow made you feel even colder, the only warmth around your shoulders being your wavy long hair, now windswept and tangled.

Your eyes opened in alarm at the footsteps coming closer to you, eyes only now adjusting to see that he was once again in your sights. A sigh inadvertently came from you as you looked away, wrists twisting in discomfort at the rope that bound you. The wind stung at your cheek, where the cut had been slowly bleeding out. A result of your previous scuffle, no doubt.

"Are you finished" is all he said, not even a question, more an expectation. You did not look up at him, thinking to not give him the satisfaction of a reply. He stood before you, his tall stature casting a shadow on you. You could imagine his face, not smug, not even content with having captured you, but more annoyed and angry. He sighed at your continued silence and walked behind you to untie you from the tree, but kept your hands tied behind your back. He paused, "If I untie you, we will find shelter and you will not fight back. Do you understand me"

Again, it was an order, not a question. You could tell he was growing impatient.

"Do you understand" he said again, but lower. You couldn't help but let your eyes roll,

"Yes, my Prince" you replied simply, feeling your body loosen against the tree, he kept one hand firmly around your arm, almost pulling you along.

"Against the tree, now" he ordered, not waiting for your response, he pushed you against it, pulling your arms behind you tightly and binding them once again with the rope. This way your arms were flush behind your back and had no chance of reaching any weapons. Besides your discomfort of being shoved against the tree, you groaned out in pain as the rough bark of the tree dragged against your cut.

"I did not think you could be so foolish, thinking you could pick a fight against me like that" he said, tightening the ropes, "You should know better"

Aemond pulled you away from the tree, one hand wrapping around your arm with ease and pulling you to follow him.

"Perhaps I am simply tired of running. Or did you not consider that" you replied, almost sounding bored of his constant whining.

He simply replied with a Hm as he usually did and ordered you to follow him through the woods. You found no reason to deny it or to try and run away, he was quicker now than you remember him being, so there was no way you would win this small battle you had with him.

It was a sad state of affairs you had found yourself in. Your father had been on the Small Council when King Viserys' health was starting to decline and being the daughter of the General you spent much of your childhood at the Red Keep, practically growing up with Halaena Targaryen, albeit a tad forcefully. You had always been the type to watch the boys practice duelling and archery, although never allowed to participate publicly, you honed the crafts they were allowed to in secret.

And one of the people who allowed you to practice with them…was now your captor. Aemond Targaryen.

As children, you were never far from one another. Either practicing swordplay or sneaking out of the Red Keep to explore the forests and do all the things that children do, climb trees, get into trouble and on one occasion, Aemond had even attempted to kiss you. It was a peck on the cheek and nothing more, but you understood the sentiment. After all, you were not much younger than he was, only a year.

When the incident happened, he returned to the Red Keep severely wounded and while you had never asked him specifically about what happened, murmurings echoed throughout the court. One occasion you had attempted to approach him, but he exploded when he saw you and attempted to attack. Perhaps he felt you were making fun of him, or perhaps he was simply traumatised.

Either way, once you returned to your Father with bruises all over your body, he swiftly had you transported back to the family home, instructing your mother to make a Lady of you, so that you may find a suitable husband.

You and Aemond had not spoken since that day and the tension was palpable in the air as you walked behind him, watching him walk tall and in long strides, silver hair hanging around his shoulders, gently swaying in the wind. As much as you attempted to deny it even yourself, you still felt a small, distant warmth in your heart for him. When you saw him, you could still see a small remanence of that boy you once knew.

Once again, your body became overcame with cold and you froze in your spot, "Maybe we should find shelter sooner rather than later, my Prince" you say, putting emphasis on his title.

Aemond rolled his eyes, "What do you think I am doing exactly"

"With all due respect, of which I do not have much, I am not dressed for such cold conditions"

"You are a prisoner, unless you are hypothermic, I do not care"

You scoffed, following him closely behind. This wasn't the person you once knew at all. He had been touched by hatred and perhaps had developed a certain ego since becoming 'heir' to the Iron throne.

"How can you have let your ego take you like this" you suddenly said, standing behind him. He stood stock still in his position, slowly turning to face you. The look on his face was hard to read. You could not tell if he looked angry, hurt, upset or perhaps all of them rolled into one, as if he had not heard you correctly perhaps. "You think a difficult childhood and your title is justification for this behaviour? I feel as if I scarcely knew the person you once were"

His eye narrowed at your words, his jaw tightening as if he was holding back, "You watch your words. You've no authority to say this to me"

You could have laughed with his audacity; it was as if he didn't know who you were or remembered the tender moments you shared with each other years ago.

"And what authority do you have to take my prisoner? You only do this under the command of false King Aegon, correct? I wonder, does it make you feel important, does it make you feel big? Did they take your balls as well as your ey-"

Aemond quickly took your throat in one hand and smashed you against the tree behind you and you groaned in pain as your head smashed against the rough bark. Once flush with the tree, Aemond did not release his hold on your throat and began squeezing without mercy. It was here you realised just how strong he was, your feet were off the ground slightly and all he had hold of was your delicate airway. You clenched your hands behind you, unable to use them to pry his off of you, so your knuckles went white with clamping them together.

What you could not take your eyes away from was the look he was giving you. You could finally see a vulnerability in him that he had kept hidden away since that day 6 years ago, his eye quivered before you with this vulnerability. But on top of that there was anger at what you had just said, formed into his strength and how he was treating you.

"Aem…" you struggled, finally trying to get his name past your lips, but he did not let his grip falter and you felt your head get heavy with the lack of breathing. You could see his chest was heaving with anger,

"You. Left. Me" he said simply, a sound of being hurt almost making its way past his mouth, "You-" he paused, rethinking what he was about to say, or maybe he was holding some emotion back.

"You were no different from any of them. Looked at me like I was a monster" he seethed, with every syllable he shook you by the neck, his fingers now digging into the sensitive skin. Your breath became hoarse, eyes beginning to roll back at the lack of air in your lungs, "I tried to not become what people thought of me, but even you…even you saw me different"

Your eyes closed as your kicking legs were starting to go limp, this only made him angrier. His rage blinded him from the real pain he was inflicting on you,

"Look at me" he said, like a whisper.

When your eyes didn't open much he shook you and took his dagger from his side, pointing it towards your side, making you stiffen slightly despite the slow loss of consciousness.

"LOOK AT ME!"

Your eyes opened to see he had taken his eyepatch off for you to see the wound that had been left behind in the years before, now replaced with a bright blue sapphire that reflected the moon above. You didn't feel you gave much of a reaction to seeing what had been underneath his eyepatch, but you must have given him something, for his reaction seemed to soften, or perhaps he'd noticed that you were close to suffocating.

Feeling dejected and vulnerable, Aemond dropped you and you fell to the ground struggling to find your breath for a moment. As you took in a deep breath, you began coughing violently, but Aemond simply stood where he had been, dagger in one hand and his eyepatch thrown to the ground. His eyes seemed distant like deep in thought and he did not look at you as you fell to the ground. Taking a deep breath in himself, he sheathed his dagger and bent to pick up his eyepatch, walking a few paces away from you.

"We will make shelter here" was the only thing he said.

You sat there for what felt like forever, unable to use your hands to massage the place where he had grabbed you, you also found it difficult to stand and when Aemond saw this, he pulled you up quickly to your feet by your arm. You couldn't help but feel a little shocked about the way he was acting even now, but found a new personality, a deeper one, had taken over.

Aemond had made a fire in a dirt bank, allowing you to at least be sat near the fire. As it crackled in front of you, your eyes remained closed, taking in the heat of the flames against your skin. Had you had your eyes open, you would have found the prince looking at you, regarding you in a way that looked sad and longing, but most of all with regret.

He would not say yet, but he saw the deep, purple bruises already taking form on your neck and felt the hot whips of guilt start at him.

"Will you take me to King's Landing?" you ask, voice hoarse still.

"Yes"

"And to answer to Aegon" that one wasn't a question.

"My orders were only to bring you back to King's Landing, nothing more" he answered. His back was flat against the bank opposite you, legs outstretched. He was so tall now, is the only thing that came to mind.

You could only get out a small laugh, which caught Aemond's attention instantly.

"Suppose I should have known better, as you say. I would be found eventually and bought to what he perceives as justice. I know better than anyone the only thing that waits for me in King's Landing is death"

Aemond felt a drop in his stomach when you said this, the feeling churning inside him.

You inhaled deeply, perhaps to stop yourself from tearing up, "Perhaps it may give me some peace"

Aemond scoffed at your words, like he was angry at your blind acceptance of death, "You speak in such absolutes, as if you are destined for it"

You look up at him and when your eyes meet, you thought you saw a hint of sorrow from him, "You don't know, do you? What Aegon did…"

His movements halted immediately, eyes still on you, reaffirming that he indeed didn't know what you were talking about.

"Before Father sent me away, Aegon had tried to attack me" you paused, Aemond sat up, a shocked look on his face at the revelation, "I was a maid to be married off and he sought to change that. He didn't…he didn't do anything to me, but Father sent me back home to quell any rumours that he had. I received countless letters from Aegon, all claiming I was pregnant with his bastard. While not true, it did nothing for my reputation"

As you paused, Aemond expected that to be the end of the story, thinking that it didn't seem…that bad. But you continued.

"Aegon did not appreciate my lack of reply to these letters, nor my Father's decision to send me home to find a husband. And before I knew it, my Father was forced into making a match with some overweight, brute of a Lord who turned up on our doorstep claiming me as his wife. His men stormed my home, killed my mother and the servants while he dragged me to his chambers.

Believe me when I tell you I was ready for death even then" you paused, closing your eyes.

"He said, 'my men and I will put our bastards in you and then we will take you to Aegon, so he may do as he pleases'".

Aemond could not help the shiver that went down his back, "Did he-"

"He didn't" you answered immediately, leaving a pregnant pause between you, "He tried, for certain, and my memory of the event has worsened somewhat but…all I remember is I had the dagger in my hand and he was clutching his throat.

That was the first time I ever killed anyone.

And when I realised everyone else was dead, I put on some of my Father's clothes and fled. Changed my name, my identity, everything…"

Aemond had listened to it all intently, sometimes looking down to avoid looking into your sad eyes.

"When I heard of my Father's death, I had to have my revenge. Until you killed Lucerys Velaryon, it might have been relatively easy, and now he wants me dead. To rub my name from this realm, or to hurt me. I have not decided which one is worse yet."

Aemond sighed and rose to his feet, shuffling his thick cloak off and walking over to you, placed it around your shoulders having seen your violent shivering. You immediately relaxed, he had made the cloak warm with his body, so you felt every muscle in you release its tension. You were further surprised however, when you felt him cut the ropes free which made your arm feel free and tired. You looked over at Aemond who had made his spot permanent sat behind you, his arms coming around you to hold the cloak across your chest and stay there.

You sat there for a moment in silence to relish in the feeling of being in his arms. And then it all hit you and you took a shuddering breath as tears started to stream down your face in a silent cry. You felt like you had been sat like this in his arms forever until he finally spoke,

"I am sorry" he said quietly, "I did not know about any of that. I know once my brother has his sights set he can be truly evil"

You sighed heavily and leaned your head back to rest on his shoulder, a notion that didn't go unnoticed by Aemond.

"You could not have known, Aemond" you reply, finally allowing yourself to use his name without even realising. This made him smile slightly, the memories of you both flooding back like a dream. You lift your head to look at his face, he still had his eyepatch off his face, so you could see the scar that ran through the sapphire now. Your eyes dragged across all his features, he was the same and yet not the same as before. His face was more angular and the masculine parts were sharper like a statue.

He allowed himself to look down at you. Your cheeks were flushed from the crying as was the tip of your nose, the cut on your cheek was now dried as he traced its shape with his finger, it coming to rest on your jaw. You could feel his breath on your face you were so close,

"Do you remember…" he started, "…when you agreed to marry me when we were eight. You were so sure I would be married to some noblewoman and forget about you. So I proposed.."

You couldn't help but smile at the memory, the way the promise had been sealed with a kiss on your cheek back then.

"I do remember. I wish I could live in that feeling forever" you reply. Aemond's stomach did backflips all of a sudden and he became unaware of what the feeling in his stomach was. Was it nostalgia? Was it heartache? It honestly could have been either as far as he was concerned.

You pulled your hand from the warm cloak to run against his face, coming to rest on his left cheek. His lips parted slightly as he closed his eyes, like he was relieved to finally receive your touch. His eyes opened slightly again in shock when you calmly pressed your lips to his, and at first he did not know what to do and simply froze. But after a moment, he relaxed and leaned into the soft, supple feeling of your lips. The hand that was placed on your jaw, now cupped your face to bring yours closer to his, eager for more of you.

You could feel his hot breath on your face as he bought you closer to him, your chests now flush with one another. You opened your mouth slightly to allow him entry which he did so with an element of impatience. The only thing either of you could hear was your heavier breathing and loud kissing, the only thing you could feel was the heat from him and his needing hands grabbing all parts of you.

He released from your mouth to kiss your jaw, leaving small kisses on your neck, whispering small phrases in High Valyrian that you didn’t understand. You sat there, eyes closed in bliss as he did so, his hands slowly making their way from your top, past your breasts and to the space in between your thighs. When his hand rested there to rub, you let out halfway between a gasp and a moan, which made him smile slightly against your skin.

Your hands came to pull his leather garments off his shoulders, revealing his undershirt. You were now facing him, his eyes seemed different now. Darker. Serious. He let you push the leather off him and once that was off, you worked on yourself. You undid the fastenings of your shirt and pulled it off over you, the only thing left on your top was a thin piece of cloth wrapped around your breasts. His eyes raked over you as a sigh passed his lips, his hands now wrapped firmly around your waist.

You pulled yourself onto his lap, pushing your leather bottoms down just enough. He was shocked at your sudden move, but closed his eyes when he felt his hard cock rub against you through his clothes. Your lips met again and you worked on his buttons to pull his cock free, using your palm to slowly squeeze his length. You could feel yourself get wet at the sound he made into your mouth, he sounded so erotic, so needy. It just made you fall apart to hear him in such pleasure.

Aemond pulled his dagger from his coat and dragged it up your torso, to cut slowly through the bandage that kept your breasts contained. Once this was ripped away, he tossed his dagger to the side and his hand went instantly to them, moulding them to his touch. You continued to pleasure him as he did this and he was only getting harder for you and more impatient.

He lifted you further onto his lap to line himself up against you, his eyes met yours again.

“I will not hurt you” he said. You only nodded pulled his head against your breasts as he lowered you onto him, sinking your body against his in a deliciously slow manner. All notions of being quiet were abandoned and Aemond moaned out loudly, feeling your tight walls squeeze his cock. You only let out a breathy moan as you felt him fill you completely, your hands tangled into his hair as his lips tugged at your perk nipples.

“Aemond...” you gasped out, sinking onto him to the hilt and feeling that tight, full feeling of him hitting your cervix. His hand grabbed your ass, angling so that he could somehow get deeper. He didn’t expect you to be the one to start moving first and he faced you again to kiss you deeply as you rocked on him, making sure you had a good hold on him, so you were able to have him fuck you quicker and quicker.

“Gods, you feel like heaven...” he whispered between kisses, breath heavy and your chests heaving with lust. Quickly he grabbed you by the waist and pulled your body under him expertly, your head landing softly on the ground beneath you. He was leaning over you on his forearms and when you looked down you could see how his cock disappeared inside you. The sheer sight of it made your abdomen get tight with an oncoming climax and your head rolled back as Aemond ceaselessly, mercilessly fucked you, chasing his own high himself, but also savouring the feeling of finally having you.

Your hands came to his back to rake down and he moaned out in pleasure at the feeling, it nearly sending him over the edge. His fingers came towards your cunt to pleasure you there, his thumb passing over your wet clit and the feeling felt like a bolt of lightning has passed through you. It was here he knew you were close, so began fucking you even harder, the warmth of the fire at his side you could not help but think of him as the dragon he was.

He pinned both of your hands down to the ground below to keep pounding, the delicious sound of lovemaking rang loud in the woods and you felt like the only 2 people in this world as your world came crashing around your orgasm. Your bottom half spasming against him, only making him look up to the sky and moan loudly at the extra friction. And after chasing your orgasm away, he bent forward to capture your lips as he finished himself, pressing firmly into you.

You both stayed like this for a moment, savouring each other's bodies flush to each other, mouths still fighting with desire. And when he came away to look at you, you were happy to see such a content smile on his face as he pushed a lock of hair away from your features to look at you better.

“You are breathtaking, my love” he said quietly, you shuddered out a small laugh, your body still recovering from the wave of your intense climax. There was a stillness in the air now that you had finished though, a lingering thought about what to do next.

He could see your mind start to worry and laid his hand on your cheek, stroking your warm skin slowly, “I see you worry, my love”

“What will you do with me now, hm?” you smile sadly, fully expecting to still meet your death in King’s Landing.

“Come with me, back to King’s Landing” Aemond suddenly said, your eyebrows furrowed with worry but he was quick in his response, “I will not let him anywhere close to you, do you understand me?” he said, but more forcefully this time, a stark contrast to the first time he had said it at the start of this evening. That notion made you smile a little, given the situation you were in now.

“And then what? I spend my time hiding?”

“No” he shook his head, still smiling down at you, “I intend to honour our proposal, my love. Marry me and I will kill Aegon if he so much as looks in your direction” he bought your hand to his lips and closed his eyes, his hands were so large compared to yours, “You will have to abandon your ideas of revenge, but you will be safe under my protection”

“Your mother will not allow this, you know that” you say.

“Then I will tell her we are already wed”

The silence was a mixture of worry and playfulness. But eventually, you had to come to terms with the fact that, tonight, you were ready to meet death. You felt a pain in your chest at the suggestion to abandon any revenge you sought, but anything Aemond proposed was better than death and so, with a heavy heart, you nod to him and pull up your lips to meet his.

“Alright”.

#aemond angst #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aemond fluff #aemond smut #aemond x reader #hotd #house of the dragon #aemond x oc #aemond fic #aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon aemond #aemond imagine

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undercoverpena · 2 years

Text

favours and antics

matt murdock x fem!reader

warnings: alludes to smut, fwb, written on phone be aware: spoiler-ish for she-hulk episode 8, slight mention to this episode in relation to our whorey-devil

masterlist

It wasn’t that you were jealous, but you couldn’t deny your heart sunk when Foggy said Matt was out of town.

Your beer suddenly not hitting the same spot.

The music not thrumming through your bones in the way it usually does.

Your smile more forced.

It wasn’t that you didn’t love Foggy or Karen, but the evening did not seem nearly as fun. Not that you could say it, not with how Foggy stared at you when Karen explained what he was doing out of town. A case, she explained. Likely flirting up a storm, is what else she’d added.

You’d become good at hiding your emotions, able to apply a mask of your own before you show too much.

Because Foggy doesn’t understand.

Hell, sometimes you’re not even sure you understand.

Even if you were the one who made Matt agree to just be friends, although it’s your body occasionally betraying you.

Friends.

Not even really lovers.

Just people who are friends that occasionally fuck. It was simple. Easy. No complicated feelings and relationship demands.

He lives his life, you live yours.

Even if feelings try to ruin it. Your work allowing you to bury yours, using work as an escape; Matt doing whatever Matt does between lawyering and vigilantism.

You try not to think about it.

Because he’s great with people. He’s a flirt. Someone who truthfully doesn’t have time for a whole other person in his life, and yet rarely is ever on his own.

Which is why it’s easy to slide into his arms. The flirting growing either over a game of pool, a few too many beers, or even a bad day. It should end there, but it never does.

You always finding yourself kissing him, letting your fingers undo shirt buttons as you run palms over healing wounds and scars. His hands freeing skin, kissing every inch, running his teeth over collarbones.

All of which is the very reason you’d been avoiding him—until the bar the other night. Hoping to ask him a favour then, with people around.

Not like this.

Not in his office.

His small, well-lit office, with no one else even around to interrupt.

He also looked good, annoyingly good. That sweet smile doing a number on you before he even said hello. Your hands diving inside your bag, needing something to do.

“Foggy said you were disappointed I was out of town when you met for drinks?

Fucking Foggy, the gossip.

You smile. “Well, I’d hoped to ask you for a favour.”

“I see.”

“How…” you ask, pushing your hair from your shoulder, “um, was your business trip?”

He smiles, likely reading straight through your words. The way you nervously asked.

His fucking gift making it easy to know all your secrets.

“Interesting. A little different than New York.”

Your eyes narrow because you noticed the infliction. That same pang filling your chest from the bar, one you try to quickly swallow. Trying not to replay the way he said interesting with that smug voice.

“The bars as good?” you ask, your jealously bubbling. Remembering Foggy calling, telling you and Karen that he’d heard him out. “I was with Foggy still, he’d said you were at a bar.”

His hand moves to his hips, his lips sliding up into one of those smirks. One you suspect he uses on everyone he wants to woo.

Because he knows what he does to a person. He’s not stupid. He’s whispered it in your ear before. That he can hear your heartbeat. How it quickened when his hand steadied your hip as he stood behind you at the pool table.

“You sound awfully jealous there, sweetheart?”

You lick your lips. Thinking of how best to respond, when you realise it’s better if you don’t.

“Anyway, as I said, I need a favour. I have a situation with a client of mine—I know you just travelled for a favour but…”

Your words slowly dying as you watch his hand outstretched, moving from his hip. Handing him the file—the one you’d already had put in Braille, something which seemed to make him smile when his fingers brushed over it.

Even if you’re trying not to let it bother you, his smile warms you. You busily trying to fill him in on the complaint, his head occasionally tilting as you talk, finger running across the papers.

You give him a minute—one that feels like an hour.

Able to smell his aftershave, all wooden and musky, the scent which has clung to your skin on many occasions. One which rushes memories and feelings, making your chest tighten.

“So, can you help?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

You let out a soft breath, closing your bag. “Thank you. It means a lot.”

“No problem, we’re friends after all, aren’t we?”

You glare, sighing, before nodding. Because you know what he’s getting at. While also knowing in his freaky way, he can sense your nod, likely even your annoyance at his word choice, turning to the door as he speaks again.

“And, if you ever fancy being reminded of how friendly we can be, you don’t need to wait to meet me at a bar to find out. You can call me.”

Letting your hand fall from the door handle, you look over your shoulder. His hand on his hip, suit jacket pushed back from his waist; the glasses removed, that shit-eating smirk on his face.

For a second, you just stare at him.

Both in admiration and in annoyance, the two swirling together as he moves around his desk. The room suddenly feeling smaller, the air tighter.

Asshole.

Beautiful, handsome asshole.

And then he’s behind you. Enough of a gap left for you to open the door, to leave.

But close enough to stop you if he wanted to.

So you straighten your spine, applying your best smirk. “I don’t think you have it in you to fuck me like I need, Murdock. But, if I fancy having an itch scratched that my vibrator can’t hit, I’ll call.”

Before you can even reach for the handle, his hand presses the door into the frame, eyes narrowing when you look back at him.

“Friends don’t barricade friends in offices.”

“Friends also don’t lie to their other friends about how good they make them feel.”

You glare. “Are you telling me I’m wrong?” you continue. “Or are you trying to tell me your LA hook up didn’t scratch that itch, I’m sure you can find someone at Josie’s?”

He laughs. “Oh, no they definitely did. Just wasn’t sure if you needed the reminder of how good we are together.”

He feels closer, even if neither of you have moved. His presence alone growing greater.

“I remember. I also remember last time you leaving immediately after. Donning a leather suit and climbing onto roofs,” you say, turning to face him, standing to the side of the door. “I’ve had men leave, don’t get me wrong, never out of their own window, so no, I don’t want a reminder.”

He smirks, but it’s not the same as before.

Even less so as he closes the small gap between you both, pressing your spine against the wall, arm sliding over from holding the door in place to beside your head—even if you’ve long abandoned the idea of leaving.

“You want to repeat that?”

You don’t.

Not as your mind begins to run away from you. Thoughts of him pressing his body against you, feeling how firm it was; sinful ideas of him fucking you on his desk, a neutral ground for the two of you—except harmless flirting.

All the while trying to control your body, not wanting your cheeks to flush, your heart to race, or even let your body sweat from the longing and thought of him doing unholy things to you.

Because for a man of god, he didn’t fuck like one.

Even with your cockiness, your faux confidence and nonchalance, you knew there was no way you could truthfully say he didn’t know how to fuck a person. He did. And the fucking man knew it.

His free hand took your chin, tilting your face up to his—a little firmer than normal. “Care to share what’s gotten you so quiet?”

You swallow, instantly hating yourself for it.

Knowing he heard it. Just like you think he knows you’re trying to rub your thighs together. Especially when he slides his own knee between your legs.

“You sure you don’t want that reminder?”

“I’m not a toy, Matthew.”

He smiles, thumb stroking the side of your lips. “Shame. If you were, I’d play with you all the time.”

You let your eyes flick over his face, knowing his words shouldn’t work. They shouldn’t.

But they do.

“Drop your bag, sweetheart.”

You lift your chin. “Why?” you ask. Aiming for it to come out as more of a blunt question, than a breathy reply.

His fingers slide from your chin along your jaw, moving his face closer. “Just do it.”

And you do.

Both from the way his lips almost ghost over yours and the demand in his voice. His other hand, the one you’re rarely paying attention to, slides over your hip, sliding around and over the slope of your ass.

You just watch, not sure if you should stop it, leave, put the distance between the two of you that you think you both need. Or stay. Stay and likely defile his office.

“Stop thinking,” he whispers darkly, gripping your ass through your trousers, pulling your hips flush against his. “You’re not going to go.”

You swallow, lifting your hands, sliding them over his hips, fingers slowly untucking his shirt from inside his trousers.

Watching him, the way his jaw tightens, his lips occasionally twitch between a smile and a smirk. His lips still close, but you haven’t moved,—even if you want to.

Even if that want is obvious to him and his senses, feeling your own arousal when you clench your thighs together.

“You can k—“

You don’t let him finish, kissing him. Hearing him groan, it vibrating against your lips, feeling his grip on your cheek tighten. Your back more forcibly being pressed against the door as your fingers slide to the front of his trousers, toying with the idea of loosening his belt.

Almost ready to undo it, to give in, to surrender.

And then you hear the main office door open, both of you pausing, not wanting to move until you hear laughter and then:

“Matt?” Foggy’s voice calling out, yanks you both apart. “I brought you food.”

Your heart in your throat, eyes burning into Matt’s—watching the colour drain from his cheeks as he licks his lips.

“I’ll go—“

“No,” he says, shaking his head, running a hand through his hair as Foggy calls out again. “Yeah, cool. Thanks, Fog… I’ll be… I’ll be out in a minute.”

He reaches his hand out, taking your elbow and your attention. “Come to mine. Tonight.”

You arch your brow. “You gonna leave out a window again?”

“No, I’ll be too busy.”

“Busy?”

He smirks, moving his lips close to your ear. “You’ll see tonight, sweetheart.”

Your body goes warm as he kisses your cheek, your hand reaching for the door handle as his fingers slowly release your elbow.

“Matt,” you whisper. His head turning in your direction. “If I leave tonight knowing my own name, you’ve failed.”

His smirk broadened. “Oh, sweetheart. You aren’t leaving tonight.”

His hand turning the door handle instead of allowing you a chance to reply, adrenaline thumping through you as you follow.

#matt murdock #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x reader smut #matt murdock x fem!reader #daredevil x reader #daredevil smut #matt murdock x fem!reader smut #matt murdock x female reader #daredevil x fem!reader #daredevil x y/n #daredevil x reader smut

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feelbokkie · 8 months

Text

Sorry, Right Number | Chapter 15

pairing: idol!Chan x fem reader

genre: smau, crack, angst, fluff,strangers to lovers, pen pals/hidden identity, forbidden love, celebrity romance

pov: 1st/2nd person (depending on how you view it)

warnings: swearing, mention of food.

summary: Being an idol can be lonely and isolating. After one fun and adventurous night at a bar, Chan decides to text the girl he met the night before. Except, she gave him the the wrong number?

word count: 1,538

screenshot count: 2

taglist: closed

a/n: buckle up babes, shit is hitting the fan

previous | masterlist | next

You walk out of Sugar Bliss and stretch as the midday sun hits your face. You contemplate getting something to eat now or just make yourself something simple when you get home. You worked a full shift today with two hours of overtime as you covered for one of your coworkers. With how busy the shop was, you had to work through your lunch, only surviving on snacks and water all day. You were also exhausted, having woken up at 1:30 a.m. so you could have enough time to get ready and make it to the bus stop for your 3 a.m. shift. You hated the opening shift at the bakery solely because of how early you had to wake up, but you loved the idea of being done with your day before noon.

"L/n Y/n?" An unfamiliar voice calls. You spin around, trying to figure out who called you. You're met face to face with a woman and a slightly taller man. You vaguely recognize the man as the one who gave you the VIP passes when you went to pick them up from the JYPE building all those months ago.

"Yes?" You ask hesitantly, not entirely sure what they could want with you.

"We're representatives from JYP Entertainment and we would like you to come with us. Your presence is requested at the company." The woman speaks, handing you a business card to prove her legitimacy.

"Right now? Can't I just schedule--"

"With all due respect, Miss Y/n, with your involvement with one of our idols, it's best if we handle this as quickly as possible.

Handle. You've watched enough dramas to know where this is heading. But you were hoping that it was all fake. You were dating Chan for nearly a month with no issue, and suddenly, you're being called to his company where they will probably force you to break up with him.

"But--"

"It'll be a quick meeting. We'll even escort you home in one of the company cars." The man interjects.

You know you should say no. That you should just go home and talk to Chan about it. But you also know if you do just that, it's only going to cause more problems for you and Chan. You sigh and reluctantly follow them to their car. You slide your phone out of your pocket to send a quick text to Chan about you being summoned to the company and that you're on your way there now. Just as you're about to press send, your phone screen goes black, dying before you can tell anyone where you are going.

"Shit," you mutter under your breath.

***

It was not a short meeting at all. As far as you're concerned, there is no meeting. You're fully convinced that they brought you to the JYPE building just to torture you into breaking up with Chan. You've been sitting in the waiting room for 2 hours waiting to go into this mystery meeting. You are hungry, tired, and desperately need to use the bathroom. Any time you told the staff member who was made to wait with you, they would tell you that "they would be with you momentarily." You don't even know who they are. You're not even entirely sure they exist. They could be some fictional higher-ups created just for psychological warfare.

"Y/n?" Your head snaps up at Minho's familiar voice. He makes direct eye contact with you as Felix and Hyunjin trail behind him.

"Oh, thank god," You mumble. You're so relieved that you could cry.

"What are you doing here?" Hyunjin asks.

"Ask her. I was taken here right after work like 2 hours ago and I'm tired and hungry, and if someone doesn't let me use a bathroom soon, it's going to be embarrassing for everyone." You say loudly, your staff member guard not looking up from their phone.

"Does Chan hyung know you're here?" Felix asks, giving you a reassuring hug.

"No, my phone died before I could even tell him. And my roommates are probably freaking out because I told them I was on my way home."

“That’s ridiculous, hold on,” Minho leaves the three of you and goes to the front desk.

You watch and Felix digs around in his bag and pulls out a packet of cheese crackers. He hands it to you along with one of his extra water bottles. Hyunjin, on the other hand, pulls out his phone and immediately goes to call Chan.

You quickly eat the snack and drink the water Felix gave you. By the time you finish, Minho is back and Hyunjin is putting away his phone.

“They said they’re going to get you in a second. Did you get Chan hyung?” He asks Hyunjin.

“No, he didn’t pick up. But Jisung said that he’s here working. I was just about to go get him right now.” Hyunjin explains.

“I’ll go. I’m faster than you.” Minho says, dropping his backpack down and sprinting to the stairs.

“I don’t like this.” You murmur.

“It’s sketchy as hell. But it’s okay. Chan hyung isn’t going to let anything happen.” Felix reassures you.

“Miss L/n Y/n?” You are called by the front desk person. You hug both Felix and Hyunjin before going where you’re called.

“Excuse me?” You ask in disbelief.

You are currently sitting in the office of one of the lower-level executives of JYPE. You knew this had to be the reason why you were called in. To be sat down and talked about your relationship with Chan. You knew this conversation would happen eventually and that you two would have to go to the company with your relationship.

“Look, Miss Y/n, we looked into your background and found a few concerning things. That fact that you have been a fan of Stray Kids for years and even moved to the city where they live and where their company is located is already a red flag. But now you’re dating the leader of the group. We found your fan account and some concerning statements made. I would be surprised if you weren’t a sasaeng.” The executive leans back into his chair and crosses his arms.

“Look, I was a fan girl who ran a fan page. Most of us say unhinged things all the time time but we’re never going to act on it. Plus, if you did your research you’d see that I haven’t been active since the concert when I found out I was talking to Chan. And if I was a sasaeng, an emphasis on the if before you think I’m confessing to anything, wouldn’t it make sense if I were to go after my bias and not my wrecker?” You sit up in your chair, hands gripping your knees as you try to calm down a bit.

“I don’t care about that, Miss Y/n. What I care about is the image of our idols. And right now, our image of Bang Chan and the rest of the group relies on your next answer. We already have several pictures of you and Chan together. Most of them are from our staff members but a few of them were intercepted from fans who merely thought they saw Chan. Now we’re ready to prepare with three options.” He sets a few of the phones down in front of you. You recognize all of the pictures, especially the one from the Folk village when the two and Chan first started dating.

“No,” You say simply.

“At least hear the options.” He sits up a bit straighter in his seat.

“No,”

“Either break up with Chan. Leave chan for an agreed upon amount of money. Or you continue to date Chan but we have full monopoly over the relationship.” He says sternly.

“With all due disrespect, those are all bullshit options.” You spit back.

“Then we have to take the fourth option.”

“You said there were three.”

“That’s because I didn’t think you’d be selfish enough for me to consider the fourth path. Which is we put Chan on indefinite hiatus and the longer your little relationship goes on, the more likely we’re going to have to eventually terminate his contract with the company. Do you really think the rest of his group could survive without him? Do you truly want to single-handedly be the reason why Stray Kids disbands?” You stop breathing the everything in the room starts moving in slow motion. He doesn’t have the power to do that. Right? Every fiber in your being is telling you to argue back. But another, more terrified part of yourself is telling you to comply to avoid messing with his future that he's worked so hard for.

“You can’t do that!” You cry out, tears welling in the back of your eyes.

“Yes, I can,”

“No…he…can’t…” Chan says, suddenly appearing in the room panting.

“Chan, please wait outside.”

“No, this meeting is over. Y/n, let’s go,” Chan walks over to you and takes your hand in his, “And I will be talking to President JYP about this. So enjoy your job while you still have it.”

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

Taglist; closed

Red means that it wouldn't let me tag you (either at all or properly)

@ventusnonexpectat @kibs-and-bits @sanriiolino @majorlymismanaged @s00buwu @badgergirlsblog @rag-iii @lanatheawesome @143lix @jaiuneamesolitaiire @veedoesntknaur @brain-empty-only-draken @jaydebow @allaboutyej8 @skz-streamer @weird-bookworm @spearb-99 @marked-unknown @thesassy-mia @kalopsian-thoughts @gruszkasmierci @aslou @chlodavids @greyyeti @thepeopleintheback @hanjiies @jihanniee @skzhoes @imsiriuslyreal @amyysfics

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holygrailimagines · 1 year

Text

Calvin Klein

Summary: Reader and Richarlison do a Calvin Klein photoshoot, smut!

Your husband was a rising football star, so the opportunity for a Calvin Klein photoshoot did not surprise you. What did surprise you was the fact that the directors wanted you to be a part of the shoot. You had zero experience with the media, but Rich’s manager insisted that everyone was dying to know more about Richarlison’s wife. You were flattered but were leaning towards declining the offer. You were so nervous about the media’s opinion, what if they hated you? Richarlison was having none of it. He constantly reminded you that you were beautiful and that this photoshoot was an incredible opportunity for the both of you. And so, here you were.

Both of you were getting ready in separate rooms, which elevated your anxiety even more. So many hands were working on your face and hair, it took so much willpower not to swat them away. When your makeup and hair was done, you were instructed to change into a simple, white Calvin Klein undergarment set. You were so thankful that they gave you a robe to walk around in.

Your styling team walked you into a different room. This room had various cameras and a gray backdrop. Your eyes instantly landed on your husband, already standing in his Calvin Klein set. You watched as he posed, cameras flashing with his every move. You couldn’t help but feel horny at the sight. You just couldn’t stop thinking about what was under those white boxers.

Your dirty thoughts were interrupted as the director turned his attention to you. He greeted you warmly before instructing you to remove the robe. You became visibly uncomfortable and Richarlison could feel a ping of guilt begin to build inside him. The director notices and smiles softly,

“Don’t worry, it will be very simple. After all, he’s your husband. Just pretend none of us are here.” He says gently, trying to ease your uncomfortable feelings. You look over at your husband who gives you a small smile. You bite your lip, nodding as you work to untie the robe. It slips off your body, revealing the set. Richarlison’s breath hitched in his throat, but he couldn’t lose his composure. You walked towards him and began posing with him. After every flash, Rich would whisper sweet words to you.

As time passed by, you become more relaxed. The more relaxed you got, the more intimate the shoot became. Eventually, you were asked to be topless for one final photo. This photo in particular would have Richarlison cover your bare chest with his own. Your back would be turned to the camera, both of you staring into the lens.

“Bravo!” The director and crew applauded as the shoot came to an end. You covered your bare chest with your arms as Rich pulled away, slipping your robe on for you. He put his own robe on and the both of you thanked everyone for being so accommodating and welcoming.

“You looked so beautiful,” Rich whispered to you in Portuguese and you instantly felt butterflies in your stomach. Now that the shoot was over, you were both getting undressed in the same dressing room- by yourselves. You were sitting at the vanity, gently removing your makeup. You looked up at him and puckered your lips. He leaned down and you pecked him on the lips, but he was quick to slip his tongue in. The kiss was quickly escalating so you pulled away, pulling at his bottom lip with your teeth. He stared deep into your face, the light from the vanity illuminating your eyes so perfectly.

“You have no idea how badly I wanted to fuck you in there.” He let out, and you felt yourself getting wet at his dirty words.

“Me too,” you say, and he grabs your jaw, pulling you into another deep kiss. He pulls away and you watch in the mirror as he moves behind you. His large hand effortlessly slips the robe off your shoulders, revealing your bare chest. He leans down again, kissing your collarbones as his hands play with your tits. You moan at the overwhelming sensation. Something about watching this unfold in the mirror made it ten times better.

“Get up baby,” he whispers, you stand up and feel the rest of your robe slide down. Rich pulls the chair out of the way, pushing it into a random corner of the room. He slips off his robe and places his hands on your back. He gently pushes you forward, bending you over on the vanity. He watches you in the mirror, your eyes clouding with lust. He pulls his white boxers down and they puddle around his ankles. He does the same with your white underwear. One hand grips your shoulder as the other begins pumping his shaft. You bite your lip, watching through the mirror as his teeth clench with pleasure. You feel him guide himself to your entrance, his tip sliding up and down your slit. He slips himself in and you both let out a moan. Your tight walls welcoming him as his cock fills you up perfectly. His thrusts are rough and hard and you were so glad you could watch him through the mirror. His abs flexing with each thrust, his biceps clenching as his grip tightens on your hips. He was so glad he had this view too. He could watch as your ass bounced against his cock and he could watch your flushed face in the mirror. You close your eyes, getting lost in the pleasure of his cock slamming inside you. He leans forward, his chest directly on top of your back, his pounding thrusts still going strong. He wraps an arm around your throat and you instantly hold on to his elbows with both hands.

“Look at how beautiful you look.” He cooed, grunting as you whimpered and moaned uncontrollably. It took so much strength to keep your eyes open. His thrusts were becoming deeper and rougher. The vanity was shaking beneath you as he fucked you like an animal. Your moans and his grunts were overpowered by the sound of skin slapping skin. With each thrust, you push back on him, doing everything you can to reach your high.

“I’m gonna come Rich,” you let out, squeaking as he begins to jackhammer into you. He growls, his chokehold on you tightening.

“Let go,” he whispers in your ear and you feel the knot untie in your womb. You bite down on his arm, your body shivering as you came crashing down from your orgasm. He rutted into you one last time, releasing himself inside you. He moans, slipping out of you, your mixed juices running down your thighs.

A few weeks later, your feed was bombarded with reposts of you and Rich’s Calvin Klein photoshoot. Everyone was going crazy, titling you guys as the sexiest couple of the year.

#richarlison #richarlison de andrade #richarlison smut #richarlison x reader #richarlison imagine #football smut #football fic #brazil #world cup 2022 #smut #richarlison de Andrade smut

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