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weird-is-life · 1 year

Note

Black cat energy reader getting all blushy and out of character bc of her huge crush on spencer ❤️

Hii, thank u for this request. I don't know If I wrote what u wanted, but I tried. Sorry this is so bad🥺🥺🤭 (1k)

Slow day at the Bau means, that everyone is trying not to fall asleep at their desks.

Hotch is in his office, hard-working as always. Spencer dissappeared somewhere. Rossi is pretending to be working, but he is in fact badly hiding a book in his lap. Emily and Derek aren't even trying to pretend to work, they find you more interesting than their reports.

You are munching on your cookies, while you frown at your paperwork.

Well, they aren't particularly staring at you as they are at the cookies on your table.

They are contemplating wether they should go ask for one or if they want to live.

Everyone knows, that you aren't the most optimistic person on your good days and you are even grumpier on the worse days.

Today is the latter. Your day didn't start well and it just kept getting worse. Yeah, so you are now just frowning at your papers, willing them to go away in your mind.

"I'm going to ask her for one," Derek says bravely, Emily eyes widen and she laughs, "good one, Derek."

"What? I'm being serious..."

"Right, well I want to see that," she dares him, she literally saw you curse the hell out of the coffee maker, so she bet, that it won't go well," grap one for me too, then."

"Watch me," Derek gets up, but before he even takes one step, Spencer appears next to them

"Why are you guys staring at y/n?" Spencer asks, looking confused at them.

"Better question is where were you?" Derek eyes the coffee in his hands.

"Ah you know, around" he says quickly, sipping on the brown liquid, that is clearly not from the office.

"But why are you staring at her?" he raises his eyebrows at them.

"She isn't in a very good mood today and her cookies look tasty" Emily answers.

"Oh, really?" Spencer asks, eyes softening immediately at the mention of you, as always.

Emily and Derek exchange a knowing look. It's clear to them and everybody else, that Spencer likes you and that you like Spencer, too. Well almost everybody, you two are as oblivious as one can be.

"What's up with that look?" Spencer frowns at them, when he sees their weird faces.

"Oh come on, like you don't know" Emily scoffs, Spencer just frowns more, not knowing what she is talking about, " you couldn't be more obvious about y/n," she chuckles and Derek laughs, too.

"Yeah, pretty boy. And it's obvious, she likes you, too. " You always become such a uncharacteristic rambling mess, that even a blind person could see, that you like Spencer.

"She doesn't," Spencer quickly shuts Derek down. There is just no way, that you like him back, no way.

"She really does. She likes you so much, that I bet she'd give you one of her cookies right now. " You don't like to share, it's not that you are selfish, not at all, but you never ever share your food with anybody, no matter what.

"Not funny, guys" Spencers says, he's been teased about hs love life enough by Derek, but including you in the teasing just stings.

"But it's true! She's always all shy and blushy around you" Derek defends," if you don't believe us, you should see for yourself. Go ask her for the cookie."

"What?"

"Just go ask her and you'll see we are telling you the truth," Emily adds, Spencer looks uncertainly at her. He doesn't want to make a fool out of himself, especiallynot in front of you.

But before he can object, Emily pushes him in your direction. So he goes.

You don't notice him approaching at first, but when you do, your cheeks, that are full of cookies heat up.

"Hi" he greets you, you clumsily wave at him and the cookie you have in your hand falls on the floor.

"H-hi Spencer" you shyly greet him, cheeks even redder as you pick the cookie up from the ground.

"How are you doing? Are you bored, too?" Spencer chuckles.

"So bored, the paperwork is so boring," you sigh,your eyes are basically burning holes into the paper. Spencer chuckles at your exasperation and you go all blushy again.

Spencer only now notices, how much your cheeks go red and how shyly you smile around him.

He thought, you are like that with everyone, but now he realises you aren't. He's never seen you blush at anything, that the other team members had said, ever. He thinks about that one time, when Emily complimented you on your new hair and you just said 'I know' and walked away.

"I'm bored, too. Also a little hungry" Spencer's stomach growls to support the statement.

"D-do you want some cookies?" you immediately offer him some with a soft smile. Spencer thinks he might die.

Emily and Derek were right. Or maybe he is just thinking too much into this little gesture. Or maybe you do in fact like him.

"You are offering me your cookies?" he asks, bewildered.

"Umm yes? Shouldn't i be?" you puzzle.

"It's just that you never share your food" Spencer explains and your eyes go wide, the blush at this point isn't leaving your cheeks .

"No that it's bad or anything. I totally understand, I don't really like sharing food either" he adds, so you know, he isn't judging you.

"Well yeah, but I w-want to share with you now, so do you want some?" you sheepishly ask again, averting your eyes from him.

"No." Your eyes widen after his answer.

"O-oh , okay, " you look almost heart broken, after he says it. So Spencer quickly adds.

"No, because I think we should get some proper meal," he smiles at you.

"We?"

"Yeah, we. Do you want to grab something? I know this great place not far from here."

"Really?" You question, hopeful small smile on your face.

"Yes, really."

"Okay, I'd like that."

As Spencer patiently waits for you to get your thing, he looks over his shoulder and sees Emily and Derek with the biggest grins on their faces.

"Assholes" he says under his breath.

"What?" You think, he said something.

"Oh nothing. Ready to go?" You nod almost giddily and start to walk to the door. Spencer has a big grin on his face, too as he walks next to you. Maybe, he will thank Derek and Emily for being too hungry for your cookies later.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n

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fandomhcs · 29 days

Text

dating frank castle would include:

frank castle doesn’t do anything half assed. that includes a relationship. you may have a hell of a time actually getting him into one, but once he is he’ll never waver.

he would struggle between being the punisher and being frank, the man who loves you. though he fully understands that you can that care of yourself, he wants to keep his life as the punisher far away from you. of course its not always possible, but he wants to keep you as safe he can. rest assured, as long as he’s there nothing can touch you. he’d stop anything, give up anything, to keep you safe.

losing maria and the kids changed him, broke him apart and forced him to scramble to gather any pieces he could. losing you now, after facing all of that loss and all that pain? no way he could handle that.

and so he’s overprotective, he’s paranoid, he’ll check and double check the locks on your windows and doors until you drag him to bed. while the two of you don’t leave the house together too often, when you do he makes sure to keep you no more than an arm’s length away at all times.

his paranoia is the biggest source of fights in your relationship. he isn’t one for conflict, despite being the punsiher and all. fighting with you is different, and he doesn’t like it when it happens. often times you’ll have it out with each other only for him to go quiet, swallow his pride and take some time to calm down before he can come talk out the problem with you.

but outside of the danger, when things are quiet and peaceful between the two of you there is no sweeter man than frank castle. he’s head over heels for you, it’s easy to see. in his eyes you are everything he never thought he’d have again. sure, he may not have the whole wife, kids, white fence type of life with you. he may never be ready for that, but being with you feels like coming home. it scares him how good it feels to have a place, a person, he can call home again.

movies nights and television marathons are a must. the second you are both home for the night he’ll wrap you up in his arms and drag you to the couch for cuddles. though he isn’t too big on pda, in the privacy of your home he just can’t help himself.

he lives for the small touches. holding your hand, forehead kisses, fingers grazing your shoulders as he passes by you. its a reminder, every time he feels your skin under his fingertips. a reminder that you are there, with him, safe and sound and alive.

you make him smile. force him to watch stupid comedies or over dramatic soap operas that you both get waaayy too invested in. he makes you try your coffee black, does the dishes for you before you get up in the mornings, keeps you trapped in his arms whenever you try to get up for food.

he cooks for you sometimes. a lovely surprise that comes out of nowhere. the big bad punisher? popping out with restaurant quality meals all because you’d had a shitty day at work and needed a pick-me-up? that’s art. he doesn’t cook often, but when he does it is magical.

though as far as your cooking, he’ll eat literally anything. you could burn it to coal and he’ll eat it with a smile. he might make fun of you for it, but you’ll see him finish his plate no matter what. he’s a dork like that.

you both whisper your secrets underneath warm sheets with one of his hands tapping a chaotic rhythm on your shoulder and the other gripping your fingers tight. he tells you their names. maria. lisa. frank jr. he tells you of their laughter, their toys, their lives. and he tells you of their deaths, tears spilling from his eyes as he breaks into your arms. your heart breaks with him, but being able to share them with someone who loves him, and by extension loves and respects them too, is such a weight off his shoulders.

they’re ghosts, but not the kind that haunt. the kind that leave your chest aching but also a soft smile on your face. they don’t plague him anymore, he is finally able to think of them without his world going dark. they’ll always be in his heart, he’ll never allow himself to forget them, but you help him realize that he can have happiness once again.

life is perfectly boring with frank, something he forgot just how much he’d missed. you bring peace into his life, even though he never wanted you to. but he’ll be forever grateful that you did. this man will love you with a passion and an intensity that you’ll find nowhere else.

that is, if you can handle his snoring.

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher x reader #frank castle reader insert #hcs #dwi

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brayneworms · 1 year

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i'll fetch you anything you like.

featuring. aki hayakawa x gn!reader

content. MDNI, smut, riding, begging, crying, smoking, light masochism, burning (reader puts a cigarette out on aki), mild codependency, pet names (loverboy, darling), gender neutral reader, agab not mentioned, sub!aki + dom!reader, a little angst, pining, kissing, vague love confessions.

word count. 3.2k

synopsis. aki's smoking is a nasty habit, but you're certain you can get him to quit. also, aki pines.

notes. minors don’t interact. anyways how’s this for a first post ( totally normal abt aki hayakawa )

Aki Hayakawa is an orphan in every sense of the word.

Literally being the one most people associate him with, but—Aki comes to a realisation when he's maybe thirteen or fourteen that the word runs deeper than that. It's not as if your entire life is defined by your relationship with your parents, after all; even people who have ones that are alive become something other than offspring in their life. Husband, brother, uncle, father. But orphan sticks, no matter how many people you fill your life up with to replace the parents you lost. Aki thinks there is something in the word that rings of loneliness; he could father a hundred children, become grandfather to two hundred more, gain friends and a partner, and still he would be Aki Hayakawa, orphan.

Alone.

"That's a bad habit."

Aki's fingers don't pause in their ministrations, thumb pressing down on the jut of the lighter as it zips to life. The cherry of his menthol cigarette glows in the blue-dark of the office. The sky outside the thin window is pale with the gloaming, and he breathes a haze of gritty smoke over it, sullying the view.

You've made yourself at home on his desk, legs swinging leisurely. You must be cold in only his work-shirt and boxers that cling to your hips and thighs. You watch him passively, head cocked.

"One of my least dangerous ones," he intones, which is true enough for a man who has three years to live at most.

"Oh? What tops the list?"

Aki eyes you serenely. "I dunno if you've heard, but I work for this place called the Public Safety Division."

Your laughter breaks the delicate quiet like a flock of birds taking off from a tree. "Put it out. I hate the smell."

Aki's dark brows crinkle. "I'm not wasting a perfectly good cigarette. If it bothers you so much, eat it."

"Eat it? You freak."

"At least then someone's getting something out of it."

You hop from the desk, yawning. In the dim light that is starting to grow just a little brighter, Aki can see the beginnings of bruises on your throat and collarbone, vanishing in an ugly rainbow trail down to the hastily-down buttons of his work shirt. Your socked feet pad along the threadbare carpet on your way over to him, and Aki inhales deeply. Maybe if there's enough smoke in his lungs it will encourage him not to breathe; that way, he won't do that god-forsaken embarrassing thing he does when you get close. His heart stutters, and it makes his breath hitch audibly. The worst part is you seemed to be goddamn attuned to it—there seems to be little you like more than knowing you have an effect on him.

Aki doesn't stop you when your fingers come up to encircle his cigarette, brushing his as you pluck it gently from between his lips. He hates that even the smallest kiss of your skin against his still sends liquid lightning zipping through him, like he's that seventeen-year-old he was when he met you, the one full of spite and anger who hadn't been held since his mother died.

You pull the cigarette away, still lit; the butt glows red and angry between your delicate hold, gleams in the reflection of your eyes. When Aki meets them, he feels his mouth go dry; your pupils are large and black, engulfing iris, barely blinking as you look up at him.

"Bet I can make you quit," you say.

Aki snorts. "Better men than you have tried."

"Anything can be unlearned," you counter smoothly. "All bad habits go away with a little punishment."

Aki feels his heartbeat quicken, tries not to let the way that one word sets his blood alight show on his face. "Hm," he says noncommittally, but frustratingly, he doesn't think he's fooled you for a second.

Your serene smile curved into something sharp as easily as breathing. "Gimme your hand."

And Aki does, though he knows where this is going. You turn his hand over gently at the wrist, leaving it palm-up, fingers splayed in your grip. You hold him so gently it makes him shiver. Carefully, slowly—Aki thinks, giving him much time to pull away—you raise the burning end of the cigarette and plant it in the centre of his pale palm, a stinging kiss. Aki hisses, grits his teeth, but dutifully doesn't move even as his hand twitches involuntarily at the contact. Just as tears start to needle at his eyes, you twist the butt and pull away, leaving a shallow pool of grey ash, a black soot mark, and a stinging red welt like a patch of burning leaves.

His eyes are glued to the masterpiece you've made of his boring skin. The burn throbs unpleasantly, but something low and hot has come alive in his abdomen at the lingering kiss of pain. It satiates something inside him just smoking the thing could never hope to touch. He likes the futility of feeding himself his own death, sure—makes him feel like he has marginally more control over it, despite what the Curse Devil might have to say about it. This sort of pain is different; it goes straight for the gullet, and it makes it all the more sweet that it's you doing it.

A stupid, lonely part of Aki—orphan—wants to believe you're doing this because you care for him. Because you want him to live as long as possible. The grown, cynical man he supposes he's become thinks you must be just as fucked up as he is. It doesn't really matter either way; Aki's loved you for years, and he's astonished he's even gotten this far with you, and he'll take anything you deign to give him, pleasure or pain because it's all sort of the same to him anyway.

You unscrew a bottle of drinking water and hold it over your discarded blazer, soaking the lapel before pressing it to the burn. Aki grunts, eyebrows knitting up as a strange cocktail of relief and pain throbs slowly through his body. Your hands holds the wet fabric over his one, like a ribcage encasing a beating heart. Oh, Aki would let you hold his heart in your hands, and who cares what you decided to do with it? It's hardly his business; it belongs to you anyway.

He leans in to kiss you, gets close enough to brush his lips against yours and feel his pupils dilate before you turn your head, ducking. Aki feels his heart stutter anxiously as you turn your serene face up to him.

"Hate the taste," you say.

Aki frowns. "I barely smoked it for thirty seconds."

"It lingers."

Aki isn't stupid; this is part of the punishment. And the goddamn annoying part is that it's working. Even as you take his other hand to hold the soaking blazer against his burn and turn away, every fibre in his body wants to stop you. Turn you back around, pin you against the wall, swallow any complaints with his lips. He wants to make you melt against him, wants to melt himself under you in that way you always manage to do to him. He likes feeling like he doesn't have to think with you; just await whatever comes next, pain or pleasure, and he'll take it because it's you.

But Aki doesn't move. He's not a problem dog. He stands quietly and nurses his burn, tracking you with his eyes as you re-dress yourself, his shirt tucked into your slacks, tie wound through the collar, work boots laced up to the ankle.

"I gotta run home and shower," you say, tugging your blazer on. "I'll see you back here in, like, an hour."

Aki nods. "Okay."

The grin you flash him is little more than poisonous; it makes it heart skip a beat. "How's your burn?"

He swallows around a dry throat, holding your stare with a touch of timidity. "What burn?"

Delight shivers over your expression like wind ruffling a field of grass, and you stride the length of the cramped office and kiss him. Aki grunts, rendered thoughtless the moment your mouth touches his, your hands in his collar and his hair; his hands go slack, blazer fluttering to the ground, and the welt on his palm stings horribly when his hands come up to latch around your shoulders and neck. He pulls you closer, a little frantic, and he has barely a moment to reflect on how worrying it is that he's this desperate for your touch after being denied only once, but before he can think to dwell on it you're parting your lips and he's tugged your body flush against his own. He's so close he could drown in you. For a moment, he wants to.

Far too soon, you pull away. You're delighted. "Good," you murmur, and he hates how his heart leaps into his throat. "You're so good, Aki."

His face is on fire. "I'm not a dog," he manages.

"Sure you are," you say matter-of-factly. "And I'm Pavlov. I'll break that nasty habit of yours if it's the last thing I do. Give you something else to focus on. Okay?"

Aki licks his dry lips. "You can try," he says hoarsely, hoping it doesn't sound as much like an invitation as he thinks it does. The impish smile you give him implies he's shit out of luck.

Aki is in hell.

He knows this, because every time the two of you have hooked up since your little conversation in his office, he hasn't been allowed to kiss you if you detect even a whiff of smoke on his breath. It's killing him a little, to be honest. Fucking without kissing just feels wrong. It makes him forget it's you, sometimes, his vision of you sliding out of focus 'till you could be just anyone. And Aki doesn't fuck just anyone. He fucks people he loves.

He loves you. But he can't have you. And he can't even kiss you so he can pretend he has you, if only for a minute. It's just fucking, a tumble of sweating limbs and gasps and grunts, of a thrilling cocktail of pleasure and pain and almost-confessions bitten back at the last second, hidden in the crook of your neck.

Your shitty wooden headboard creaks into the shitty thin bedroom wall, and Aki spends a moment in lucidity to send a silent apology to your neighbours. One arm braces against the wood, flexing with every fast jerk of his hips, and you're under him, eyes clenched shut and meeting his thrusts in a way that has Aki wondering why anyone could think being on top had to mean being in control. He's oiled to your machine, matching the rhythm of your hips and trying not to drown as your back arches up from the sweat-damp sheets, stomach curving into his, one arm holding fast around his neck.

You feel so good he could cry. Not that that would be an irregular occurrence, or anything—he'd practically sobbed the first time you fucked, and back then you'd been all fluttering concern, stopping even though he tried to sputter please, Christ, don't stop, I'll die if you stop, please. He supposes you're kind, in your own way. You'd stroked away his tears and kissed his damp face.

"Aki," you groan, bringing him forcefully back to the present; his dark bangs dangle in his eyes as he looks down at you, mouth agape and head cloudy. "Wh-what's got you so wound up?"

As if you don't know. Aki grits his teeth.

Your hand makes patterns on the damp nape of his neck as his rolling hips slow, as he breathes deep to try and regain a semblance of his dignity. "Loverboooy," you croon up at him, your free hand gripping at the junction between his hip and thigh. Aki grimaces; he hates that nickname. "Talk to me."

Aki glares at you. "You know—I want—you know. St-stop it."

He whimpers somewhere high in his throat as your body tightens around him, free hand coming up to scrub down his face. "D-don't!"

"Sorry, sorry," you laugh. "I'm sorry. Why don't you tell me what you want? Maybe I'm feeling nice."

It feels like a trap, like luring his feelings into the light just to snap a bear trap over them. But Aki wants, he yearns so deeply and desperately that he's just about willing to risk it. "Want to kiss you."

Your eyes gleam. "Do you?" you ask, as if this is news to you.

His arms shake. "Please."

God, he's pathetic. He's so used to being in control, to tailoring every facet of his life meticulously, grooming and tidying and cleaning. He knows the exact amount of calories he should eat per day. He puts his shoes on a rack so he never tracks mud onto the tatami mats. His shower utensils are organised in the order he uses them—shampoo, conditioner, face-wash, scented gel. He likes being in control. He thinks, anyway. You make him reevaluate. You make him reevaluate an awful lot.

You toss your head back against the pillows; you have the audacity to laugh. "Saw you smoking earlier," you tell him, and Aki's stomach goes cold. "Mm... full pack, too. A new one? When'd you buy that."

"Th-that was hours ago." And it's true; when Aki learns you're coming over, he puts his cigarettes in a locked draw and puts the key somewhere difficult to reach. "It won't still taste. I've eaten. I brushed my teeth."

That's just good manners.

"It's the principle of the thing, loverboy," you say, and your hand comes up to his chest and rolls him over. Aki gapes, whining at the loss of contact only to choke on his own voice as you sling a leg over his hips and slide him back into you. Your nails scrape red railroads down the pale skin of his sternum at the stretch, and Aki watches, mesmerised as you start to move, the flex of the muscles in your thighs, the vein bulging in your throat as you toss your head back. He wants to be all over you, a hand on your neck feeling your pulse go berserk for him, his teeth in your skin as proof he was there, nose buried in your hair, dirty and rough and the exact opposite of the way he usually wants you. That is—soft and kind, romantic, slow and heady as syrup.

He wants kisses that taste like tears, whispered confessions into bedsheets. He wants, painfully, the constant assurance he can never ask for. I love you. I love you. Oh, Aki, I love you.

"Kiss me," he gasps instead, writhing against the bedsheets, head thrown back at the brutal pace you set him. He's so close, teeth gritting and muscles locking up but without a kiss it feels cold and incomplete. "Please, please, kiss me, please—"

"You're a brat, Aki," you hiss, and Aki's heart twitches in his chest; he can hear his pulse in his skull. "You ignore the one rule I gave you, and you still think you get to ask for what you want?"

"It's a bullshit rule," he snaps. "I—I can't just, hah, I can't j-just turn it, off, oh, fuck—"

"You okay?" you ask in a fleeting moment of mercy. Aki's eyebrows knit up. "Am I—is it too much?"

Aki shakes his head. "I'm okay," he mumbles pitifully. "I'm close."

"I know, darling," you murmur. "It's okay. I'm gonna give you what you want. And you're gonna give me what I want. Deal?"

"I—I..." Aki chews the inside of his cheek till copper floods his mouth. "I'll try? I'll try, I swear."

You still for a moment. "You mean that?"

Aki nods frantically. "Yes, I—if that's what you want, anything, anything you want, please..."

The beam that breaks out on your face is a million watts. "Aki," you breathe, and finally you lean forward 'till your chest brushes his. Aki can't breathe, transfixed by every swoop of your eyelash and chap in your lip as you lean close. When you speak, you're so close that your lips brush his, and he has to keep every muscle taut to stop himself leaning forward and closing the gap. "Aki, I want you to live a long, happy life. You get that, right? Why I'm doing this?"

He feels his stomach flip, can barely comprehend the words through his dazed mind. His glazed eyes follow you, thunderstruck. "What—what d'you mean?"

"I care about you," you murmur. "I want you to live as long as possible. Want you to stick around with me."

With you? It's a wonder his heart doesn't explode. For a fleeting moment, there exists a future beyond the Gun Fiend, beyond Denji and Power and Nyako, one where he can love you freely. Tears needle at his eyes. It all seems so impossible.

Aki forgets himself, surges up to capture your mouth, but you turn at the last second, planting a kiss to his cheek before focusing on his jaw, his ear, capturing the lobe between your teeth and sucking gently as your hips resume their rhythm. You're faster now, gasping for breath, Aki's hands sliding over the skin of your hips and torso for a lifeline. You tongue at the cords in his neck, the shell of his ear and the sensitive divot just underneath till he's squirming.

Your hands are everywhere—scraping nails across his twitching abdomen, running up the valley between his pecs, tweaking a nipple and pulling. And Aki groans and gasps, every hint of pain from your lovely hands sending him rocketing closer towards the edge. Tears bead at his lashline.

"'M close," he gasps again.

"That's okay, loverboy," you say sweetly, words buzzing against the skin of his throat, and Aki shudders, arching impossibly closer to you. He can feel every nerve in his body sawed open and set alight, impossibly sensitive, boiling with love, and as he comes he buries his face into the crook of your neck with a hoarse cry. Two lone tears streak down his flushed cheeks.

You're not far behind, and Aki wouldn't dream of pulling out, so he squirms and gasps and whines with the prickling of overstimulation as you chase your own high. "Sorry—fuck—you okay?"

"I'm, I'm good," Aki whines. He cracks one steely blue eye open. It stands out against his red skin; he's so flushed as to look sunburnt.

"'M almost, fuck, almost there. Hang on for me?"

Aki raises shaking hands to grip your hips in answer. You laugh between pants, baring down at him.

"That's my boy."

You don't kiss him when you finish, but it's alright. You flop down beside him, taking in deep lungfuls of air, nuzzling your lips to the salt-sweat cooling on his chest. Usually, round about now, Aki would roll to reach his bedside cabinet where his open pack of cigs lay in wait. The lighter is right beside him, open and tempting. He can almost hear the flick of it, the zip of the flame bursting to life, the sizzle of the cherry scorching beneath that controlled flame. The grit of smoke in his mouth and down his throat, emptying his lungs of fresh air.

The pack goes untouched. Aki winds an arm around your shoulders and holds you close, your cheek against his thudding heart.

You don’t kiss him, but it’s alright.

Aki’s not a problem dog.

He's going to earn it.

if you enjoyed this, request something.

#🫀.scribes #chainsaw man x reader #aki hayakawa x reader #csm x reader #aki x reader #hayakawa aki x reader #hayakawa x reader #chainsaw man x gn!reader #gn!reader #chainsaw man smut #csm smut #aki hayakawa smut #aki smut #hayakawa smut #hayakawa aki smut #dom!reader #sub!aki #sub!aki hayakawa

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navybrat817 · 4 months

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“Behave, I wouldn’t want to have to punish you now.” with Nick Fowler please 🥰

Love this! Thank you for submitting a prompt. Went a little dark with this. ❤️

Snow Globe

Pairing: Dark!Nick Fowler x Female Reader

Summary: Nick thinks snow globes are beautiful, just like you.

Word Count: Over 600

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, NONCON/DUBCON, cockwarming, possessive behavior, Nick Fowler (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Set in the same AU as See Through You and Home Video. And a small submission to @thebasementspouses 's Christmas Challenge with Nick and Snow Globe. ❤️ Written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

“Beautiful, isn't it?”

You peeked up at Nick where he sat on the couch and studied his handsome face. He was in a good mood today. Maybe because he got to sleep in a bit and cuddle with you. He didn't even bother getting fully dressed once he got up. Just put on a pair of boxer briefs and insisted on the two of you staying in.

As if you had a say in the matter.

He chuckled when you let out a hum of confusion. “The snow globe, sweetheart,” he smiled, picking it up from the end table beside him. He gave it a small shake to draw your attention to it more. “See? Beautiful.”

You stared into the snow globe, not at all enraptured like when you saw them in stores or homes. A souvenir like that should have enchanted you with the lightly sparkling snowflakes and glitter. The ethereal vision only served to remind you that looks could be deceiving.

Evil can be beautiful.

Nick Fowler was living proof.

“I thought maybe we could start our own collection,” he continued as he set it down and brushed his fingers along the side of your throat with a soft smile. “Doesn't that sound nice?”

You blinked once. Again, you had no say. You could argue with him, sure. But who knew where that would lead? Nowhere good.

And you didn't want to go down the hard path tonight.

“Fuck, your mouth really does look beautiful stretched around my cock,” he breathed, his fingers drifting along your neck again as he rolled his hips up. “Breaks my heart when you try to fight it, but you aren't fighting now, are you?”

You exhaled through your nose, the urge to gag rising. It was only a few minutes ago when you felt the weight of him slide across your tongue, but it felt more like hours with the slight ache in your jaw. The tip of his cock kept hitting the back of your throat and you willed yourself to stay still and focus on breathing.

At least he was kind enough to give you a pillow for your knees.

“Of course, you aren't. Because as much as you fight it, you love it when I fill you up,” he smirked as you shivered, a darkness settling over your heart. He made you feel good physically every time he took you, but you couldn't let pleasure wear you down. Could you? “And I really do love filling your holes.”

You almost wished he'd stop talking. If he did, you could allow yourself to drift away. You wouldn't disappear into a daze completely, but you could retreat into yourself for a short time and deny that you belonged to him. Which was precisely why he kept speaking.

Nick wouldn't allow you to leave him, even if it was just in your mind.

And with his cock in your mouth, he wouldn't allow you to talk back.

“It’s okay to like being mine, sweetheart,” he whispered.

But why should you like it?

He let out a sharp hiss when your teeth grazed him harder than he liked and gripped the back of your head in a warning. “Behave,” he said in a low voice. “I wouldn't want to have to punish you now.”

He kept you on his cock when you tried to let up, not allowing you any reprieve. Tears formed in the corners of your eyes as you met the burning azure of his gaze, his eyes so dark they were almost black in the dim light. It was like looking into your own twisted snow globe.

You were trapped.

Forever.

I love him. I can't help myself. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Nick Fowler Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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leighsartworks216 · 5 months

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hello i love your work, i check the collection on ao3 every morning like a newspaper haha. it astounds me how much you're able to write in such a short time. i also have a request. what are ur thoughts on this as tav and astarion (tav being the sleeper, astarion being the insomniac)

https://twitter.com/sevspam/status/1706371876367503693?s=46

I don’t have the right brain rn to write a full story out of this (fighting off the Enola Holmes hyperfixation omfg) but here’s some random hcs/thoughts. This is set after the end of the game (no spoilers or anything) if y’all decided to live in the city or smth idk, just above ground

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 556

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

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You always try to sleep in

Always

And you always try to keep him with you when you do

He’ll meditate or sleep for his 4 hours (if he’s lucky enough to avoid nightmares) and just be laying there until morning, cuddling you

And then he’ll get restless as the sun rises, but the moment he tries to slip away, you’re wrapped around him like a vice

And no matter how long you keep him imprisoned there, you’re still utterly exhausted when you get up

When you were traveling across Faerûn, he thought it was just because of all the fighting and adventuring

But no

You’re just always tired

You probably take a nap on the couch in the afternoon, and he’s there with your head or feet in his lap as he works on something, or he’s straight up squeezing in to lay with you

If he doesn’t go to bed with you immediately, you have to go retrieve him

He’ll put off sleep at night for as long as possible, especially if his mind is being cruel to him

You’ll find him hunched over his embroidery or nose-deep in a book, and you’ll lean over the back of the couch and hug him from behind

If he doesn’t get to a stopping point fast enough, you’ll fall asleep just like that

Gods, how many times he’s had to carry you back to bed just because he’s too stubborn

You both have deep bags under your eyes

Both of you kissing under the others’ eyes as a cute little thing <333

If there’s a sun beam on the floor, and you happen to walk through it, oh boy he will find you on the floor taking a nap

He would move you somewhere more comfortable, but he doesn’t want to get burned, so he simply rolls his eyes and moves on

He does love it when you wake up from your sun beam nap and hug him, because he can feel the lingering warmth clinging to you

Sometimes he’ll have a nightmare late at night and cling tightly to you to ground himself

And he feels bad for it, but you’ll wake up, all bleary-eyed and slow-brained, and you’ll rub patterns into his lower back and pet his hair

You actively fight against going back to sleep just to stay up and comfort him

If he can’t calm down as easily, you’ll get up with him and make yourself coffee or a very strong tea to keep you sort of awake

Lots of late night convos during these moments

You sitting on the couch with your back against the armrest and Astarion spreading out along the length with his head in your lap

Or like laying on his stomach and pressing his face against your belly with his arms wrapped around your back

Oh yeah that’s the shit

You’ll always fall asleep before him, but he loves listening to your even breathing

He’d probably be annoyed if you snore at first

But then it grows on him and becomes too endearing

Honestly he probably gets so adjusted to it and so subconsciously tuned to it, that if you ever stop snoring just randomly in the middle of the night for whatever reason, he’s awake and just trying to figure out why tf he’s awake wtf

---

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psychedelic-ink · 1 year

Text

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐝 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐄𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐝

pairing: pre outbreak!joel miller x f!reader, one sided tommy miller x f!reader

genre: angst, smut, romance, slow burn, mutual pining, secret relationship

series summary: After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance. The reason for this is due to one crucial fact you don’t know but he does; Tommy has a crush on you. Which means you’re off limits no matter what. But as your own feelings for Joel grow, things start to get more and more complicated.

word count: 4.8k

chapter summary: Your brother comes for a visit and of course, he wants to meet the Millers. Things with Joel come to a boiling point, threatening to pour over.

warnings: joel dissociating, family dynamics, criticizing of war, some angst, arguing, hints of grief, brief mention of parents being emotionally distant, explicit make out scene at the end

a/n: August is the reader's stepbrother, reader still has no physical descriptions. His face claim ended up being Oscar Isaac, ofc you don't have to imagine him that way, but I just wanted to let y'all know lmaodbf I was trying to think of what he should look like and it kinda happened

Chapter Seven || Chapter Nine

Your brother is already sitting on the kitchen stool when you walk in with silent, socked feet. He hears you though. Always does. Perking up, he turns with a smile. Your heart jumps as you notice a magazine in his hand, but realizing it can’t be the one with Joel’s picture in it, you relax, making a beeline to the coffee machine.

“You still like your coffee black?”

“Yup. Just like my wretched soul.”

You shake your head. Smiling, you grind the coffee beans, the sound breaking the peaceful silence of the morning. When you’re done, you turn to him and pour the coffee into the portafilter. You tamp it down.

“Your soul isn’t black.”

“Hmm?” He rests his cheek in the palm of his hand, his elbow propped up on the kitchen counter. A soft smile tugs at his lips, always amused by your rantings. “And what color is my soul?”

“Golden. Sparkly, shiny.”

“You’re just saying that because of my name.”

“Why would Auggie remind me of gold?”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it. Idiot.” he grins. He leans over and squeezes your cheeks with one hand, hallowing them out. You let out a whine. “Come on now. Say it. Say my actual name and not the one you would call your sheepdog.”

You push out your bottom lip, pouting, you glare at him. He laughs.

“I’m not letting go until you say it.”

“Fine,” you snap, your voice muffled. “August. There, happy? Now let me go, you menace.”

“See, was that so hard?” he lets go and you stumble back. His strength always coming a bit of a shock. You draw your brows together, rubbing your chin. August rolls his eyes. “Why can’t you be normal and just call me Gus if you’re going to be lazy about it.”

“Because it sounds like goose and I don’t like geese. And Auggie sounds cute,” you answer. The hiss of the coffee maker fills the kitchen and you take two mugs from the cabinet. “How’s mom and dad by the way?”

“Not thrilled that you’re here on your own. Living with ghosts.”

Shaking your head, you place a red colored mug in front of him. Your parents had a habit of think you were drowning in melancholy. Which…was true, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be on your own. You’re about to say just that, looking at him but the thin gold chain on his neck reflects the soft morning hue and catches your gaze. Briefly, you stare at it, blinking.

“You’re wearing it again?”

August raises a sole brow, confused, that is until he looks down and realizes what you meant. He licks his lips and smooths his palms over the marble counter.

“Well…no point in being mad at him anymore is there? The old man’s gone.”

“He’d be happy knowing you still care.”

“I always cared,” he snaps with a hint of annoyance. “Need I remind you that pops was the one mad at me. Not the other way around.”

“He was mad because you were throwing your life away,” you level him a serious look and add. “You still are.”

“I don’t want to do this first thing in the morning,” he groans. “You’re just saying that because you don’t like the idea of your big brother with a gun.”

You fill his mug with piping hot coffee. Steam curls into the air. You start warming up milk for yourself, your back turned to him.

“I don’t like the idea of my big brother being shipped off to war on a whim. It’s not a hunting trip. Don’t act like it’s not a big deal.”

“It isn’t.”

“You’ll die.”

You suck in a sharp breath. You hadn’t meant to say it like that. He’s already aware that he can die. You close your eyes and keep them like that. The sounds of the kitchen fade into the background. The sound of a clock echoes in your mind. You remember the last time August was here, in this house. Your grandfather was alive then. The house was full of his voice and scent. Unlike your parents, who were somewhat distant, your grandpa hated the thought of August wasting his potential. Meanwhile, August was trying hard to prove that he didn’t have any potential to waste. You’re not even sure what your big brother does anymore. You stopped asking the day you and him buried your grandpa.

It’s been the two of you for the longest time. Your mother remarried when you were four, August was six. Not having many friends, you were quick to leach on to him, and he seemed happy by that. He was your family, and you were his. Blood didn’t matter. And your grandfather, and grandmother, agreed with the sentiment, never separating the two of you.

You remember when you were still in university, August didn’t tell you he was in the city. And one late night he was on your doorstep. Rain soaked through his shirt and his hair curled at the ends. Your heart breaks when you remember those times. He refused to tell you what happened that night. Later on, you learned he came to meet his mom. The exchange hadn’t gone well.

You jump when you feel a set of hands on your shoulders. The sound of your name follows soon after, it sounds rushed like it had been repeated a couple of times before you heard it.

Everything comes flooding back. The coffee. The milk. Your brother standing behind you.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “Christ. Where’s your head at?”

“Shit—” you hiss, seeing that the milk had overflowed. You quickly turn off the stove. “Sorry, sorry. Must’ve zoned out.”

“This is why I said I didn’t want to have this conversation first thing in the morning,” he grumbles, picking up a handful of napkins. “You need to stop worrying about me okay? I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I don’t want to constantly fight about this. I’m tired.”

“Yeah, okay.”

You realize your answer is less than ideal but it is what it is. If he doesn’t want to talk about it, fine. You’ll at least make him highly aware of how you feel about it.

After cleaning the stove and finally making yourself a decent cup of coffee, you sigh into the mug. “So what do you want to do during your visit? Sightseeing?”

He chuckles, “Why are you acting like this is my first time here?”

“I don’t know. I feel awkward now. I probably need breakfast.”

“You’re fine,” he answers, booping your nose. Your wrinkle your nose, a soft smile blossoming on your lips. “I’ve seen your paintings, they look good.”

You nod, silently sipping your coffee.

“Any plans on showing them off, or whatever it is that artists do—put them in a museum?”

“Gallery.” you correct him. “And I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Not so fun is it? Being questioned?” when you fix him a glare, he grins. “Anyway…I love what you’ve done with the room. About time something changed here.”

You finally crack a proper smile and he quickly follows up with more series of thoughts. With a soft giggle parting your lips, you shake your head.

“Which one was it that helped you?” he asks. “The brothers?”

“Both helped. But the credit has to go to Tommy, he’s the one who came up with the idea.”

“Wise man,” he hums, tongue moving over his teeth thoughtfully. “Was he the one in Desert Storm?”

“Yup,” you answer unenthusiastically, popping your lips at the p.

“When am I going to meet the famous Millers? I want to thank them for helping out my baby sister.”

“Tonight. They’re coming over for dinner.”

Another unenthusiastic response. It’s been almost a week since your date with Tommy, and since you’ve moved out from Joel’s and back into your own. You’ve seen Tommy a bunch after that, but the older Miller not so much. Guilt burrows in your heart. You might’ve been a bit too short with Joel, now that you think about it. His intentions obviously weren’t bad. But that didn’t really matter to you, did it? Your heart skips a beat every time you think of him. And you stared at his picture nearly every night since you returned.

Meanwhile, despite seeing him almost every day whenever he came over to fix up the room, your friendship with Tommy felt…off. Some part of you thinks he knows about your feelings, and Joel’s. He never said anything about it. He hadn’t even mentioned the date, it was like business as usual.

It was just a crush then. It has to be. You and Tommy were close, he was lonely, figured he’d ask you out. Nothing serious. You preferred to think about it that way.

“What are we having?” your brother asks, drawing you away from your, not so fun, thoughts.

“I was thinking chicken.”

Joel holds a bottle of wine in hand and Sarah is holding a tupperware full of homemade brownies. Upon getting the invite, Sarah had been adamant about perfecting her recipe to bring over. Joel was not allowed in the kitchen. Deeming to be a jinx whenever Sarah tried to cook. He had no objections to that. He was more than happy to listen to his daughter hum in the kitchen as he watched TV in the living room.

They walk toward your place with her arm crossed over his. Tommy is getting out of the truck just as they reach the porch. His younger brother meets Joel’s gaze briefly before turning his head, walking up to them. He ruffles Sarah’s hair, greeting them both with a small nod of his head.

“Better get this over then,” Tommy mutters, reaching from between the father and daughter duo to knock on the door.

But before he can, Sarah smacks his hand away. The gesture earns her a solid fix of Tommy’s glare. Joel’s shoulders raise, his eyes nervously flitting between Sarah and Tommy. He’d kept Sarah out of the loop. It felt like the right thing to do. Your dating life should be no concern to her. And as far as Joel was concerned, Sarah wasn’t ready to hear about his love life with another woman.

“Sarah.” Tommy warns, the last syllable of her name bouncing off his grit teeth. “What do you think you’re doin’?”

“You two have been so weird all week,” she chides, the crease between her brows similar to her father’s. “If you’re not going to be nice, you should leave.”

“Dammit Sarah, I—” he lets out a stuttering breath. “Fine. Just knock on the goddamn door.”

It’s instinct. Sarah knocks on the door and at the same time Joel brings a hand down to Tommy’s shoulder. Hard. The younger Miller’s entire body tilts to the side and Joel squeezes, making sure that his fingers make dents into Tommy’s skin. Tommy tenses under Joel’s hold but doesn’t move, he doesn’t even look back at him. He just patiently waits until the door opens, warm, soft light pouring through the door.

Sarah takes the first step, hugging you and handing you the Tupperware. You’re wearing a green dress that hugs your figure perfectly, his mouth floods with saliva. Joel already feels his cock twitching uncontrollably under his jeans. The way you smile is always so bright.

But first things first.

“Don’t you ever snap at my daughter like that again. You hear me, Tommy.” he says in a hushed tone, leaning into Tommy’s ear. Sarah already disappeared inside, and you’re patiently holding the door open for them.

“Your daughter?” he grimaces, taking a step back so the two of them are out of earshot. “You mean my niece? I didn’t do anythin’ Joel. Don’t get your panties in a bunch.”

Tommy takes the lead. He kisses your cheek and mutters pleasantries. Without waiting for Joel, Tommy takes his shoes off, heads to the kitchen. Joel huffs, glaring at his brother’s back.

“Is something wrong?”

Your voice peels him away from his anger, his hands suddenly feel foreign to him. He robotically hands you the wine.

“Nah,” he shakes his head. “Just brothers being brothers.”

“O…kay then. Well in any case, welcome. Thanks for the wine.”

If Tommy being mad at him isn’t enough, it looks like you’re still frustrated with him as well. You don’t look at him. And the smile you have on is nothing other than polite. It’s a small little curve. The type you would give to a stranger walking past you in the street. He hates it.

Thank god for Sarah. At least she’s not mad at him.

“Don’t mention it,” he mutters, purposefully brushing his arm against yours while passing you by. He hears you letting out a soft sigh. The hairs on his arms stand with delight at the sound.

He enters the kitchen where the dining table is at. Tommy’s already chatting up your brother, and Sarah is dragging her fingers through one of your dried oil paintings. She likes the texture of it, he told him once. The brother’s eyes meet Joel’s and he already feels his muscles growing taut. Tommy follows the brother’s gaze and nods.

Joel nearly jumps when your hand comes around his shoulder. The brother narrows his eyes.

“This is Joel,” you say, giving him a gentle shove. “And you already met Tommy. Joel, this is August. My brother.”

Joel takes in the brother’s appearance. He has sharp, angular cheekbones that give his face a chiseled look, and his intense gaze is accentuated by thick, dark eyebrows. His wavy, dark hair falls messily over his forehead. He has broad shoulders and a defined jawline. He exudes a quiet confidence that draws Joel's attention.

Swallowing multiple times, Joel quickly extends a hand. A weird sense of relief washes over him when August takes it, giving it a firm squeeze.

“Nice to meet you,” he says, sitting back down. “I heard so much about you.”

“Good things I hope,” Joel grins sheepishly. A blush crawls up from his neck to his cheeks when the other winks. Joel’s gut is telling him that August already knows what’s going on in his head and it’s unnerving.

“They’re all good, don’t worry.” he smiles and pulls out a chair for Joel. “She tells me you two helped her with the room. Well, you have my thanks. I was a bit worried about her moving in here after…” he clears his throat. “I’m sure you know.”

August utters the last sentence with his eyes fixed on Joel. He shudders.

“Auggie, stop making me seem like I’m a damsel in distress. I’m not a child that needs to be taken care of.”

“That you’re not,” August answers. “But everyone needs help sometimes.”

You frown, “Says the man who never accepts it.”

The rest of the evening passes by with soft jazz music in the background and all of them setting the table together, which isn’t a five-man job, but they do it anyway. Sarah is rather bubbly, talking about school and a boy she doesn’t seem to like. He takes a mental note to ask about that later. You listen with interest, checking the rice and mixing the salad. Tommy and August hit it off instantly. Which isn’t at all a shock to him. August laughs at something Tommy says while placing a plate. Joel looks around, his pleading eyes landing on Sarah and you in the kitchen.

Neither of them notices him. He’s left standing awkwardly between kitchen and dining room. He rubs his sweaty palms on his jeans, gaze dropping to his socked feet.

He doesn’t want to bother anyone, so he slips away to the hall.

Maybe he should’ve asked you first, before going exploring. But he can’t really help it. Joel finds himself in the renovated room. It’s basically done, the room fully painted and bookshelves back in place. You even have a couple of easels holding your latest artwork. He stumbles inside, the conversations fading into the background.

It’s hard not to feel upset. He isn’t sure what he’s doing wrong. At the time, not allowing you to say what you had swirling in your mind felt like the right thing to do. Joel doesn’t know if he could’ve held back if you confessed. Even though he was rather close to confessing himself, that was before Tommy took initiative.

He observes the first painting. His initial thought is that it looks nice. There are a lot of colors in geometric shapes. He sees a lot of red and pink. Some blue. Some white. His eyes move up and down, and as it does, he slowly begins to realize the smaller shapes form a bigger one. It’s human. A naked one. He follows the vee of the adonis belt, the softened stomach. Suddenly it’s very clear to him that this is a man. Joel takes a step back. The face hasn’t been painted yet. No eyes, no nose, no mouth. A somber smile touches his lips. Sometimes he wishes he didn’t have any of those. Maybe he won’t fuck up so badly if he doesn’t.

Joel’s about to leave when he sees it. The smallest stain on the front of the silhouette’s hip. Tilting his head, he steps closer. His skin tight over his muscles, his breath hitches.

It’s a bullseye. The tiniest, you blink you miss it, bullseye.

He leans closer, it’s definitely a bullseye. Smaller than his tattoo, but it’s the same shape, in the same spot.

What the fuck?

He lifts his gaze, eyes flitting across the round shape that’s meant to be a face—his face. Is this…supposed to be him?

Shitshitshitshit

Joel jolts out of the room and stumbles into the small bathroom that’s on the first floor. He turns the faucet so hard that his fingers ache but he doesn’t care. He splashes cool water over his face until his breathing calms down. Then he flushes the toilet for some noise.

When he opens the door, his head is spinning. The walls wiggle and dance, the hardwood floor underneath his feet slips. Joel can barely stand. His fingers itch to have something pressed against them, something that can pull him out of the fog of his mind.

He doesn’t look inside and silently closes the door, his eyes glazed over. He makes his way down the hall. His heart is beating too fast. He can barely breathe. Some part of him believes he’s making it up. That the tattoo wasn’t there, that it was just smudged paint. He’s not an artist. It wouldn’t be hard for his brain to make something up. It wouldn’t be the first time.

The voices grow closer. He closes his eyes, lashes touching with his cheeks. He should’ve let you talk that day. At least then everything would be crystal clear. He hates not truly knowing. The heave of his chest forces him to open his eyes.

Everyone is already at the table. You’re serving the food, putting a chicken leg on your brother’s empty plate. His space is reserved next to Sarah, right across from Tommy and you, August is at the head of the table. Only Sarah notices him. She looks up, brows pinched together as she mouths: are you okay dad?

Joel nods and takes his seat. His vision finally clears. The scent of chicken and roasted vegetables wafts through the air, grounding him to the present. He feels the brush of Sarah’s fingers on his forearm, she still looks worried.

“I’m fine,” he mutters, reaching for the salad. With his tongue between his lips, his gaze follows your movements as you divide the chicken. “Everything looks amazing, tea. Thank you for having us.”

“Yeah,” Sarah chimes in. “It looks great. I didn’t know you could cook.”

You let out a snort and shake your head. “Why does everyone in this house think I can’t look after myself? What kind of image am I giving you guys?”

Laughter follows, Tommy, says something but Joel doesn’t catch it. His mind still in the room with the painting. He eats silently. Biting into his fork and savoring the taste of white meat. He watches Sarah neatly wrapping the base of the chicken leg with a napkin before she starts eating, he rolls his eyes but smiles anyway.

No one really discerns his silence. Which he concludes to be a good thing. The food is good and helps him settle down. His eyes flit between you and Tommy, a pleasant conversation taking place between the two people closest to him.

Suddenly he sees Tommy in a tux, you in a white dress. The sun is bright and Sarah is the flower girl. He’s standing next to his baby brother, waiting to hand the ring to Tommy as soon as the priest finishes his speech. He stares at you from above Tommy’s shoulder. Your smile is wide.

You meet his gaze and Joel fights the urge to jerk away. Your smile broadens into a grin, you wink at him.

You look back to Tommy. His heart sinks into his stomach.

If that ever happens, at least you'll still be close. Joel will forever have your eyes. He’ll get to stare at them as often as he wants to. Tommy doesn’t have to know. But that doesn't change the fact that Joel will still be lost, he'll still be lonely after Sarah leaves to live her own life.

He would always be searching for something more, something that he couldn't quite name or articulate. That yearning would remain, like an ache that refused to subside. He would try to fill that void with other things, other people, but it would never be enough. He would always come back to that sense of restlessness, that nagging feeling that there was something missing.

He’ll never be satisfied.

Joel hands you a wet plate and you smile, patting off the access water, you place it on the dishrack. Soft steps come from upstairs. A door closes, and the sound of the shower softly adds to the ambiance of domestic bliss.

Joel hands you another plate.

It’s been a while since dinner came to an end. Much to your delight, it turned out to be a pleasant evening. August and Tommy got along swimmingly, which came as no surprise to anyone. With her stomach full and warm, Sarah was practically sleeping on the couch. Joel had to nudge her awake, and you offered to show him the spare room, but he shook his head and woke her up. Sarah was briefly confused, but she managed to make her way back with Joel. Tommy left a bit later, thanking you and squeezing your hand as he left. You were quite surprised when Joel returned ten minutes later, offering to help with the dishes. August had already gone upstairs to take a shower.

You hate doing the dishes so you had no objections to that.

“I really should buy a dishwasher,” you say, breaking the silence. “Thanks again. You really didn’t have to.”

His lips part with a low chuckle, his gaze fixed on the sponge that suds up the plate. “I’ve heard you complain more than I can count, sweet tea. There was no way I was going to leave you with this monstrous pile.”

“My hero.”

A comfortable silence stretches between the two of you, though you're not sure how that's possible. He's been avoiding you for a week and has been silent all afternoon. You're not even sure he talked to Auggie much, except for introducing himself.

Some part of you doesn't want the stacks of porcelain to end. You internally curse at yourself for washing the pots and pans before dinner. This time, you take a bowl from him. It's slippery, and you nearly drop it, but his fingers curl around yours, tightening your grip before it can shatter against the floor.

Your breath catches in your throat. Joel's fingers remain on your hand, and a soft caress follows. Goosebumps rise over your body; it's so sudden that it tingles, a slight pain etching over your skin. Slowly lifting your eyes, you see that he's already staring at you. Joel holds your gaze, his eyes warm and inviting. A blissful sigh raises in your throat, threatening to spill, but you press your lips together.

Joel inhales, and on the exhale he asks, “Your date with Tommy must’ve been a good one, I reckon. You guys came back late.”

Blood rushes to your ears. You pull your hand back, like you’ve been burned with boiling water, soap bubbles fly into the air. The bowl slips back into the sink and you hear it crack but refuse to look down. Your heart is beating too fast, too hard—shit. Why is he saying this out of the blue? Rage pounds underneath your fingernails. You’re not sure why you’re so mad. And you’re not surprised Tommy didn’t tell him anything. Those two are constipated when it comes to talking.

Your glare and his soft gaze clashes, lighting crackling in the still air.

“Why are you suddenly mentioning Tommy?” you hiss out. Tears sting your eyes. “And it’s none of your business. If you want to know you should ask hi—”

“I saw your little art project.”

Your mouth dries up, the rage replaced by a childlike terror. You pull your hand close to your chest. Breathing heavily.

“What?”

Joel takes a step forward, leaning into you and crowding your personal bubble. You’re glued to the floor. The blood rush loud in your ears. You feel so vulnerable that it hurts, your body trembling uncontrollably.

“It was…me, wasn’t it?” he shakes his head. “What if Tommy saw? You can’t do shit like that when you’re datin’ him. You can’t just paint another man.”

His voice is both hushed and forceful. You’ shake your head, attempting to blink away the tears. All the emotions you feel like a balloon in your chest waiting to explode. Your head drops. You stare at his chest. It’s moving with every rapid breath.

“Fuck you.”

“Excuse me?” Joel sounds flabbergasted. He takes a step back and stares at you—really stares at you with narrowed eyes, as if he’s seeing you for the first time.

“I said,” you bite out through clenched teeth. You step forward and shove him in the chest, it does little to move him and his fingers wrap tightly around your wrists. You refuse to look at him. “Fuck. You. You don’t get to shame me in the ways I heal. The art I create. You’re the one who has a girlfriend. You’re the one that allowed me to get as close as I did, saying cryptic shit knowing that I had a crush on you! So yeah—” your eyes snap up, looking him dead in the eye. His mouth hangs open, shock etched between his brows. “Fuck you, Joel Miller.”

His grip tightens, it’s rough and it stings. A shiver runs up your spine. “I’m not dating your brother.” you say with a sense of finality.

“I didn’t know you had a crush on me.” Joel’s thumb moves down your wrist. His hardened gaze softens, the smallest of gasps escaping from between lips. “Asha and I broke up.”

“You did?”

Your world starts spinning, your stomach flips in your stomach. He nods.

“The day you came to the garden. Before your date with Tommy. I broke it off.”

“Why?” you ask, holding your breath.

“Because I had someone else on my mind.”

He’s fully stroking your arm now, the roughness of his hold gone. Textured fingertips move up and down your skin, sending shudder after shudder up your very being. Heat gathers between your legs, and you feel a dampness that makes you ache. Joel leans closer and you feel his hot breath fanning your cheeks, mixed with the lingering scent of beer. You hold your breath. The kitchen doesn’t seem to stop spinning.

Without another word Joel tugs you flush against him, his firm chest pressing up yours, a tingle starting from your pebbled nipples and buzzing throughout your body. He sucks the air from your lungs. He groans into your mouth. You feel his hands skimming the frame of your body, dipping into every curve. Joel pulls and tugs at the fabric of your dress. You hear a small rip. You don’t care about it in the slightest. But he must’ve heard it too because a soft growl emanates from his chest. He tugs at the fabric again, the following noise louder. His teeth sink into your bottom lip, pulling it along with him as he parts. You let out a debauched whine and you swear he grins, the cocky bastard.

His hands cup your ass, kneading it tenderly. You sigh into his mouth, your hands feeling numb and weak from where they rest above his chest. He lets go of your bottom lip, pressing his mouth into the swollen flesh before moving away.

You gasp and let out a shaky bubble of laughter. “If this ‘someone else’ you speak of isn’t me this is about to get really awkward really fast.”

“Don’t worry that pretty lil’ head of yours darlin’,” his forehead touches yours, the skin damp. He breathes heavily, the tone of his voice oddly serious and deep. “It’s you.”

a/n: THEY KISSED! FINALLY. I think this is the longest thing I've ever written without the characters getting at it immediately, it's been a fun ride lmaodfbfd

Normally, this chapter was supposed to have smut as well. But I loved the ending "it's you" so much that I decided it was a good way to end the chapter. But believe me, the next chapter is going to get as filthy as it gets. I already have it outlined. (feel free to hop into my askbox to tell me what filthy things you want to see them get to 🤭)

Thank you to everyone who is still with me on this little journey that started out with a mere thought after seeing a bts Instagram story, I never thought so many people would be eager to read such a thing and all of you have my appreciation. I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, in all honestly I'm nervous as hell posting it. Hopefully I hit all the right parts.

Sending all of you many hugs and kisses 🧡

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x female reader #tommy miller x f!reader #tommy miller x reader #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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kuni-is-daddy · 1 year

Text

Sub Fusiguro's Hcs

MINORS DO. NOT. INTERACT.❌❌❌

omfg yall really gassed me up and gave me 10+ notes on my gojo hcs TYSM. This'll include Megumi and toji's FINE ASS omg.. im srry but jjk men 😩👑

This is a mix of female and male reader!

MEGUMI MEGUMI. 👑👑

Remember when gojo said "be greedier" megumi: I took that personally

He trys to keep how horny he'd be for you to himself but whenever you make him feel good it's burned into his mind.

The way you'd suck his cock and ride him so passionately. Constantly milking him over and over again until he's begging you to stop or he'll break but it just feels too good.

"oh.. fuck.. y/n please..please.. fuck me just like that...fuck just like that don't stop baby. Don't stop"

Megumi would eat you out passionately and slowly until you ask for him to speed up. He'd constantly ask if your enjoying it and live to serve you. Wanna cum on his face? Megumis already on bed waiting for you to sit on his face.

Sub megumi who wants you to suffocate him in your thighs.

Sub megumi playing with your nipples and obediently licking your tits as you want him too.

Sub megumi finding a spot during missions with Nobara and yuji to summon the demon dogs to take over, then jerk off silently after you sent a sexy picture of yourself.

"ah..yuji.. where did fushiguro kun run off too? Ugh.... How the hell am I gonna get scouted in Tokyo if he keeps running off and having gojo make us look for him all day😩😭I'm gonna beat him to a fuckin pulp. " - nobara

Sub megumi secretly wanting to have a 3 some with you and gojo fucking him until he can't stop cumming.

Sub megumi wanting to stuff your cock down his throat while gojo fucks him from behind

Sub megumi letting you fuck him in his sleep, checking his phone to see a picture of his sleeping face covered in your cum. (He'd jerk off to that picture later)

Toji fushiguro

So needy. It doesn't matter if your busy, tired or not even in the mood. Toji wants you on his body. He craves you and your touch like it's everything.

At work? He'll send a video of him jerking off and moaning for you. It'll be a total tease. Toji would flex his abs and muscles in his usual black shirt and naked underneath while stuffing a shirt or even other clothing of yours that reminds him or has your sent against his nose and rub his cock for you

"Shi-shit..y/n, doll..I'm so close. I need your help bby. Come home soon f' me~

I feel like Dom or sub toji would be addicted to you regardless. Something about you just drags him in more then money does in exchange for Killing.

Sub toji driving you to your favorite cafe or spot to eat at as a way to convince you to let him drive to the nearest parking lot or alley way and let you use his body

Sub toji sucking your cock while your doing work over the desk at home

Sub toji moaning loudly as you fuck him in a mating press.

"Mnm~ want your kids daddy~ oh fuck yes. Harder. Fuck me harder~"

Sub toji pulling over and carrying you to the backseat bridal style even if you punch at him or tell him to stop. Then eating you out like it's his last meal. What r u gonna do? Break him? Fuck him rough? Not let him cum? Great. Even better. Toji loves that.

He'd be your little brat even in public. He'd have no shame while you eat out with your friends as he sits next to you and touches you under the table.

Sub toji toying with a sorcerer in a cat and mouse chase. Getting turned on by their fear. The way they pant and breath hard as your tall and sexyy ass s/o(or whatever he is to you) is about to murder them. while he gets a text message

Y/N(Doll❤️): Come home now. I need you.

Sub toji quickly turning his attention and lust towards you. Wondering and now getting turned on by what you could ever need him for. How would you use him.

The poor sorcerer you didn't know he's now chasing down ruthlessly and not just murdering them, but everyone and everything in his way including curses to get to you💀💀. Dam you we're addicting.

IDK MUCH ABOUT TSUMIKI(Megumi's sis) :((

Sub TSUMIKI asking to 69 whenever you have the time. She loves your smooth tongue against her wet pussy. She'd bounce on your cock/strap pleasing to cum again over and over. Overstimulate her like a good girl until she cry's.

#sub jjk #sub jujutsu kaisen #sub toji #sub fushiguro #jjk megumi #jjk toji #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi headcanons #toji x you #toji thirst #toji smut #fushiguro toji x reader #toji x y/n #megumi smut #toji headcanons #toji x reader #jujutsu toji #jujustsu kaisen x reader

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wroteclassicaly · 7 months

Text

Fallin’ For His Darlin’

(Gator Tillman x Female Reader)

Word count: 1,062

Pairings: Gator Tillman x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language, mentions of trauma, wounds, pain, anxiety, and depression, vaginal sex, fluff, hurt/comfort, vaginal fingering, kind of dark!Gator, kind of soft/anxious too, etc.

A/N: So inspired tonight, listened to some mood music, feeling that fall vibe, haha! Hope y’all enjoy? I’m pretty happy with this one! And I can’t wait to see our boy in action 😭 P.S, forgive my shitty graphic making, I’m not good at that!

You’re not sure what time it is. Maybe midnight? You aren’t positive, because when his headlights find your garage door, floating in through your window like his own personal spotlight, his tires skid across the gravel of your lane, his car door heavily thudding closed, his boots crunching heavily over rough ground, signaling him closer… closer — time ceases to matter much. You’re meeting him eagerly over the threshold, his back slammed against the beat up wood, boots falling beside your sneakers on the entryway rug. Nothing can find you here, can harm you here, and what has lifelong permission to touch you, it’s always-only… him.

He smells as good as always. Spicy cologne and cigarettes, powdered sugar from the donuts he’d eaten for dinner (you are always on him to eat more), leftovers from your shared favorite diner — Angelica’s, still pressed into his crisp black t-shirt, as if he’d forgotten a napkin. His hair is usually in its less than pristine condition by the time he arrives at yours in the night hours. Doesn’t matter anyways, not with how you end up carrying on in front of your old fireplace (Gator’s a fan of your new cream rug, intricate floral patterns woven into it, loved by owners before, thrifted, and now yours), or on your couch. You’d never really gone to your bed, learning how those times nearly caused lines to be crossed, one ending with Gator falling asleep on your naked breasts, (the calmest he’s been in years, and you just watching him as the sun came up and cast a glow on his youthful head. he was lost, broken, beaten down).

Sticking to this, here in your living room, it’s safer, saner. But it’s not what you want. However, you’ll have him whichever way he offers. He’s Gator and you’re his sweet darlin’.

~*~

Your legs fall open, one wrapped up in his camouflage pant clad thighs. His fingers press deeper inside of you, thumb circling your curls, smearing the cream around in them, watching how it bubbles. You’re kissing him again, lips so soft on his chest, fingernails scraping through the thick tufts that rest on his chest, occasionally flicking his gold and silver chain overlays. You’d gotten him the gold pendant, something he could wear, a symbol for faith that Gator could attach his own meaning to, not having to wear because it meant what his father wanted it to. But it was safe enough that Roy wouldn’t question its meaning.

Your lips find that patch of skin by his left nipple, sucking it between your lips, before you bite down. Gator throbs in his pants, his spare hand squeezing your neck’s nape. Despite his fascination, he’s still a million miles away. “Why do you let me do this to you?”

It’s a default question, an answer you both know already. Why you let him love you like this, it’s so simple…

“These hands, what I do with them before I come here. I’m bad. And I could hurt you, you know?” He adds a little pressure that travels up your scalp in electric prickles.

You spread yourself wider for him, a third finger stretching you in a welcomed, boundary pushing burn. Your eyes meet the midnight murk that’s woven over his mossy pupils like a blanket to mask, face leaving that cove of his chest. Your finger reaches to rub along his lower lip, his tongue licking out to taste skin.

“You wouldn’t, Gator. You won’t...” Is your answer. As if you believe it more than you believe in any god or higher power.

He’s pushing, as he often does…

“And if I do?”

“Then I’d let you.” It’s plain and simple, your fingers leaving his mouth to wrap around his wrist and correct him to a deeper rhythm. This is not enough tonight. More. Fuck, you want him to swallow you whole, capture you, trap, and hurt you in the ways you welcome — how he can, ever so softly, but painfully blissful, like a fire to your fingertips, flames licking the skin, enough to sting, but never to take away in harm.

He’s fully hard, swollen, and he’s turning towards you, forcing you to him by your nape. Your noses bump into a brushing nudge, his hand leaving your cunt and pressing wet, calloused fingers to your jaw as he brings you into his mouth. He’s so warm, plush, his stubble has a scratching effect. He tastes like sweet sugar and Marlboros. He’s been smoking menthol, you note — what he switches to in the colder seasons.

He’s panting his next declaration over your mouth in a fragile concentration. “Would you let me put it inside of you, darlin’?”

Your thighs tighten together, pussy clicking noisily. You’ve never had penetrative sex with him yet, something so close for two childhood friends. But you’re ready to leap if he is, reaching for his hand on your jaw and squeezing over his knuckles. “What do you think I’ve been waiting for, Gator?”

~*~

Approaching Autumn glides in on the cool September rain of Sunday, leaves and earth filling your room with the harsh scent of two bodies connecting. Your blush curtains blow against the chipped, open window frames. Your nipples have hardened from the cool air, from dragging repeatedly across Gator’s chest hair, his necklaces dipping into your collar bones and the valley of your tits. He’s got your legs held around his waist, your hands pulling in his hair to mess it up, his nose finding yours, foreheads sticking with perspiration. The box of condoms lay abandoned at your bedside, a gamble in you, of which Gator is only ever willing to trust.

Your eyes tighten and close, his size making you feel as if you’ve never been touched or fucked before in your lifetime. Everything aches, everything is too much, all at once.

“Should I stop? You hurtin’?” He’s speaking to you in a way that makes tears gather in your lash line. He brushes them away with a rough thumb, then a trigger finger, almost immediately.

His hands let your legs drop to take your fingers in his own, directing one to his shoulder and the other around his waist. “Hold onto me?”

“I’ll never stop.” And you’re surging in for a kiss.

The rain hasn’t stopped when the sun begins to come up the next morning. And your boy sleeps soundly on your chest, uncaring. And that funny thing called time? Well, it still ceases to exist.

// Eat me paragraph //

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berryhobii · 6 months

Text

Welcome to PixieKiss

The Masterlist

CURRENTLY UNDER CONSTRUCTION! I AM WORKING ON CONDENSING IT. Please bear with me as I make changes. 🩵

Ⓒ— My works are copyrighted and belong to me! If anyone wants to translate them, please ask me first just I can keep track of them! Thanks🩵

Disclaimer: Everything I write are works of fiction. I only use the idol’s physical appearance and namesake. Please do not take anything I write as serious depictions.

All of my works will be black!Reader and black!coded. I mainly describe brown and dark skin types but I will definitely be incorporating all skin complexions since we do come in all colors. If you have any questions, please don’t be afraid to ask! I want this to be a safe space for black and melanated readers to feel represented in fanfiction. I will not tolerate any aggressions or bullying.

In Progress: ✏️

Smut/Suggestive: ❤️

Fluff: 🩷

Angst: 🖤

More to be added as I expand my works

Kim Namjoon

One Shots:

My Person(boyfriend!Namjoon x reader) ❤️🩷

Summary: Namjoon was your person. And you were his. Here’s the story of how you fell in love.

Fics:

None Yet!

Drabbles/Asks:

First Time(My Person couple) ❤️🩷

Summary: #askberryhobii. Story of the My Person’s couple first time.

Pure(boyfriend!Namjoon x reader)❤️🩷

Summary: You were pure. He was not. He could change that.

Happy Weight(husband!Namjoon x reader)❤️🩷

Summary: #askberryhobii. When you put on happy weight.

Fire Burning(firefighter!husband!Namjoon x reader)❤️

Summary: #askberryhobii. Your firefighter husband comes home sweaty and you can’t help yourself.

Jealous(husband!Namjoon x thick!reader)🩷❤️

Summary: A stranger gets a little too close to your husband. He shows you exactly who he belongs to and why.

You’re Mine(boyfriend!Namjoon x reader)❤️

Summary: You’re his. No one else’s.

Kim Seokjin

One Shots:

Baby Girl(SugarDaddy!Seokjin x brat!reader)❤️🩷

Summary: Seokjin spoiled you rotten but how could he not when you were his baby girl?

Baby Girl: Show Out(SugarDaddy!Seokjin x brat!reader) ❤️🩷

Summary: You parade through the hallways of your sugar daddy’s company like you own it and it might as well be.

Nice Guys Finish…(ft. Kim Namjoon)(Roommate!Seokjin x Neighbor!Namjoon x reader) ✏️❤️🩷

Summary: Seokjin’s been secretly harboring a crush on his roommate. The only problem? So does his coworker who also happens to live right across the hall.

Games(Boyfriend!Kim Seokjin x reader)❤️

Summary: Your boyfriend isn’t giving you attention, too focused on his stupid computer game so you take matters into your own hands.

Fics:

None Yet!

Drabbles/Asks:

None yet!

Jung Hoseok

One shots:

Class In Session(DanceInstructor!Hoseok x Stripper!Reader) ✏️❤️🩷

Summary: Hoseok was excited to hear about a new teacher at the community center. He wondered what kind of person you’d be, what kind of class you’d teach. He also wondered what the hell you were doing on stage at a strip club.

Clouds(Strangers to lovers, soulmate au) 🩷🖤

Summary: Clouds drifted overhead, rain pouring over the monochrome colors of your life. Then the sun parted those clouds, showing you a rainbow.

Dessert(boyfriend!Hoseok x reader)🩷❤️

Summary: You and Hoseok try something new.

Fics:

Karma(Mafia!Hoseok x Assassin!Reader, Mafia/Assassin au) ✏️❤️🩷🖤

Summary: When a looming danger threatens the people you love, you have to come out of hiding and step back into your place as The Whisper; the deadliest assassin known to man. Taking people’s lives were easy, loving Hoseok was even easier, and having to face him once again after leaving would prove to be the toughest challenge of your life.

Prologue Chap 1 Chap 2

Drabbles/Asks:

I’m Not Done(boyfriend!Hoseok x reader)❤️

Summary: Hoseok wasn’t done with you.

Far from it.

Min Yoongi

One Shots:

Reconnect(husband!Yoongi x thick!reader)❤️🩷

Summary: Yoongi’s been so busy lately and you two haven’t been spending much time together. You bring him some dinner and reconnect on a deeper level. Verrryyyyyy deep.

Edible(Weedman!Yoongi x reader) ✏️❤️🩷

Summary: You were the picture perfect student; perfect grades, gleaming recommendations from your teachers, and the pride of your family. You didn’t get into trouble, didn’t go to parties, you’ve never even kissed anyone yet. After your friend forced you out of your dorm and to a frat party, you realized just what you were missing out on; in the form of a long haired dealer with delicious marshmallow treats.

Adrenaline(Rockstars!Yoongi and Lee Jihoon(Woozi) x reader)

Summary: The bass. The drums. The riff of the guitar. Their hands. Your lips. Leather. Belts. Adrenaline. Ecstasy.

Fics:

None Yet!

Drabbles/Asks:

The Dressing Room(SugarDaddy!Boyfriend!Yoongi x reader) ❤️🩷

Summary: #askberryhobii. Yoongi loves that dress on you. He shows you just how much.

MoonBeams(merman!Yoongi x mermaid!reader)🩷🖤

Summary: #askberryhobii. Every night you return to the water and every night you remember why you left. But you could never forget the sparkle of his eyes reflected in the beams of the moon.

Overwhelmed(fiancé!Yoongi x reader)🖤🩷❤️

Summary: Your day has been going horribly. Your fiancé helps you come down to earth

I Swear(fiancé!Producer!Yoongi x Artist!Reader)🩷❤️

Summary: Yoongi swore he’d finish before lunch time.

Silent Treatment(husband!Yoongi x reader)🩷❤️

Summary: You give Yoongi the silent treatment and he doesn’t like it.

Do Not Disturb(fwb!Yoongi x reader)❤️

Summary: You really need to remember to keep your phone on silent.

Park Jimin

One Shots:

Down Bad(FuckBoy!Jimin x reader)✏️❤️🩷

Summary:

Rule 1: Never go over the woman’s house

Rule 2: Never sleep over

Rule 3: Never sleep with the same person twice

These 3 rules are what Jimin lived by but then you came along and he was ready to break all of them.

Part 1 Part 2

Hurry Home(fiancé!Jimin x plus size!reader) ❤️🩷

Summary: You send Jimin some naughty videos during his night with the boys.

Fics:

Thread(Ares!Jimin x goddess!reader,Reincarnation au)✏️🩷❤️🖤

Summary: You were his oasis where the water never ran dry. He was the garden where blooms shone like diamonds. His lips were of the sweetest ambrosia that made you forget your sour past, your embrace a blanket that shielded him from the nightmare that was his life. Your souls were safe in the hands of one another. Nothing could ever separate you, the daisy chain you’ve woven entwining your fate and destinies until the end of time.

Prologue Chap.1. Chap.2 Chap.3

Drabbles/Asks:

Pool Party(boyfriend!Jimin x chubby!reader)🩷❤️

Summary: #askberryhobii. After a pool party at your friend’s house, you and Jimin go home for some private time.

One Margarita(husband!Jimin x reader)🩷❤️

Summary: Brunch with the girls was great but hot drunk sex with your husband was even better.

Favorite Thing(boyfriend!Jimin x thick!reader)🩷❤️

Summary: #askberryhobii. Jimin has a few favorite things about you.

Kim Taehyung

One Shots:

Lilac(ex-fiancé!Taehyung x reader) ✏️🩷🖤❤️

Summary: Your hands trembled as you tried to pick of the pieces of your heart that he had shattered. The saltiness of your tears made the wound burn, agony seeping into the crevices and cracks of your very soul. He had left you; broken and alone with nothing to remember him by except the lilac tattoo on your wrist.

Break Pads(mechanic!Taehyung x tall!reader) 🩷🩷

Summary: There were a lot about cars you didn’t know. Like apparently you were supposed to get your break pads changed every 35,000 or so miles. They didn’t teach you that in driver’s ed.

Visage(art student!Taehyung x nude model!reader)✏️🩷❤️

Summary: Taehyung didn’t think anything of it when he signed up for a nude painting class. He was just exited to get more experience under his belt. Your body was a canvas, and he, the brush.

Drabbles/Asks:

Distracted Driver (pornstar!Taehyung x pornstar!reader)❤️

Summary: Taehyung needs to keep his eyes on the road.

More (Distracted Driver couple)❤️

Summary: You and Taehyung film some more content

Jeon Jungkook

One Shots:

Late For Work(husband!Jungkook x reader)🩷❤️

Summary: Jungkook wakes you up and sends you off to work all hot bothered. Just wait until you get home!

Late For Work: Clocked Out(husband!Jungkook x reader)🩷❤️

Summary: You’ve clocked out. It’s time to go home.

In Motion(strangers to lovers, plus size!reader)✏️🩷❤️

Summary: Jungkook didn’t know you. Not even your name. What he did know though? That you had the most perfect ass in history and he wanted to see how you moved it.

Drabbles/Asks:

Candy Crush(Late For Work couple) 🩷

Summary: #askberryhobii. How the Late For Work couple met.

No Nut November(Late For Work couple) ❤️

Summary: The Late For Work couple attempts No Nut November.

Unaware(Late For Work couple)❤️

Summary: You hardly pay much attention whenever you’re with Jungkook. He does though.

Every Time(Late For Work Couple)🩷❤️🖤

Summary: #askberryhobii. Jungkook would be there whenever insecurity came to haunt you. Every time.

Mood Swings(husband!Jungkook x pregnant!reader)🩷

Summary: Jungkook’s grown used to your mood swings.

OT7

One Shots:

7 Different Sheets(FuckBuddies!BTS x reader)❤️

Summary: You have 7 fuck buddies. How did you fit them all into your schedule?

Fics:

Insatiable(BTS x Succubus!reader) ✏️🩷❤️

Summary: Poised and dangerous, you stalked your next meal. Like flies to a web, they all became ensnared in your delicately laid trap. You eat them up until there was nothing left and they’d give until you were satisfied. Anything to placate your insatiable appetite.

Drabbles/Asks:

None Yet!

—————————————————————————————————————

I don’t own any of the photos.

#bts #bts smut #bts fic #bts x black reader #bts imagines #masterlist #masterpost #jimin smut #jungkook smut #namjoon smut #seokjin smut #yoongi smut #taehyung smut #hoseok smut

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macsimagines · 9 months

Note

Hello again! I’ve missed your works dearly and I hope that you’ve been doing well and taking care of yourself ♡

I start nursing school in a few weeks, and I wanted to put in a request for Yan Shin, Izana & Ran about their gf patching them up/taking care of their injuries/tending to their wounds after a fight ˚୨୧⋆｡˚

TW: Yandere, MINORS DNI, Self-Harm

Yandere!Shinichiro

You've always been his cute little nurse ever since you were kids, patching him up after a fight. When you told him you were really going to go for it as a career he was super supportive.

"That means I get to see you in cute nursing outfits right?" "Quit being a perv, you big goofball."

As the leader of the black dragons, you always had to patch him up. He wasn't strong like all the other members and was liable to injuries more often than not. But he loved being dotted on by you, so he never complained too much.

Now that you're both older you don't baby him as much as you used too. He's not the same young punk getting into fights anymore so now he has to get creative.

Shinichiro isn't a fan of self harm, but you're always there to give him stistches when he 'accidentally' cuts or burns himself.

"You're so damn clumsy, be more careful. Alright?" "I make no promises, sweetheart."

Yandere!Izana

It was your job to look after all members of the gang, prioritizing your king first. It didn't matter if someone had a stab and he only had a scratch you were expected to treat him first.

"My wounds are always more important, Y/N." "I know Izana. Now stop talking and let me work."

Times change though, and now you're both different people. He's watched you pursue a career in helping others and now you're a nurse for the orphanage he does outreach work for.

Loves watching you work with the kids, and is enamored by how gentle you are with them. Only slightly jealous when he watches you kiss boo-boos.

"You were never this nice to me." "You were never this cute." "😦"

Actually loves the way you nurture the kids. Its a weird thing that makes his chest feel funny and makes him want to be soft with you.

While you're working one day, organizing the medicine cabinets, he'll come up from behind and wrap his arms around you, kissing your shoulder.

"Hey, think we should make a couple of our own?"

Yandere!Ran

He actually met you during your tenure at nursing school. You lived in the same building and you two would always run into each other either on your way in or out.

"Hey, Y/N. You're a nurse right? Think you could take a look at my arm real quick?" "Sure thing! You'll be gettin' my bill in the mail though."

You two hit it off after that. Ran is always knocking on your door looking like he just got hit by a car and you're always giving him an earful while you patch him up.

Never tells you that the other guy looked worse. Never ever tells you that he sometimes lets himself get hurt so he has an excuse to see you. "Punch a little harder you pussy. Y/N's not gonna care about these weak ass punches."

"What would you do without me?" "Probably die. Or sleep." "Don't be an ass to the girl that's stitching your arm, dingus."

Years later and now you two are still together. You're his 'Sexy Live in Nurse' and he's your 'Walking Hazard'. You're still stitching him up even after all this time.

"Seriously, you OWN the club. Don't you have bouncers for the rowdy customers?" "I'm a hands-on kinda boss, Sweetheart."

#yandere tokyo revengers #yandere izana #yandere izana kurokawa #yandere shinichiro sano #yandere ran haitani

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writerpetals · 1 year

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crave you, need you | 🔞

; optional male lead smut | ☁️

w: cat-hybrid!reader, dog-hybrid!maleoc

“Hey are you even watching?”

The sudden voice in your ear pulls you from your thoughts, now realizing that you had not actually been watching the movie he suggested once he told you how much you would love it, and instead sitting next to him with thoughts anywhere else but where they should be.

“Of course,” you lie to him with a frown, and he grins at you before turning back to the bright light coming from the TV in your living room.

It’s not like you wanted to ignore him or his favorite movie he promised you would love. You’re sure on any other day, you actually would have been interested. If only you weren’t being distracted by a certain heat that creeps up on you once a year, and is known to wreak havoc on cat-hybrids like yourself if you’re not mated. You have felt the intense burning and gnawing at the pit of your stomach for days, and as you sit next to him trying to pretend as if everything is fine, you can only focus on the way your body aches as an annoying pulse settles between your thighs, dying to be touched and fucked and mated.

To make matters worse, every sense of yours is heightened for a few weeks, and as he sits next to you completely unaware, you can smell the scent of just him radiating off of his body. It’s erotic and pulls you in with just one inhale after he’s shifted even an inch, and you admit he’s the one you least expected to be attracted to during your time of need. Your body begins to crave him in ways you never thought you would experience from your roommate, especially when you consider the fact that he’s a dog-hybrid and you shouldn’t be attracted to him in the first place.

You try to pull your thoughts back to reality, admitting to yourself it’s just your heat making you feel something so new. Normally you would call up the first cat-hybrid in your phone to find some release and then be on your way, but lately the amount of partners you actually trust to not only fulfill your needs but also not expect anything else from you have become slim to none throughout the years.

“You’re daydreaming again, aren’t you?” He interrupts your thoughts for a second time, sighing and pausing the movie before turning to you. You try to hold your breath as he does so, not wanting anymore of a scent that can’t be helped filling your nose.

It does so regardless as you inhale him in, and gulp when you feel the gears spinning in your body. You press your thighs together, trying to find some sort of release while not wanting to explain to your friend just how horny you’ve become thanks to him.

“No, I’m paying attention. I promise!” You feel bad for lying, but you feel even worse for what your body is feeling. Not only are you neglecting your own needs, but to think you could be this horny over a dog-hybrid of all animals.

Not that there's anything particularly wrong with him, of course. On a normal day, you would find his furry, black ears cute, and that little tail of his he loves to wag charming, but you aren’t supposed to want to mate with him. His scent isn’t supposed to have you so worked up you feel like pouncing him. You feel the heaviness in your chest rising at just the thought, and if he were to find out, well, you don’t want to think of that.

“Play the movie, silly! I’m watching.” You offer a forced smile to convince him, and it only adds to the guilt of lying, and being attracted to him, because now you’re tricking him into thinking you actually know what’s going on.

You have to admit, you don’t have the slightest clue. As soon as he clicks play, all you can focus on is the throbbing and aching between your legs and how the sweat begins to bead against your forehead due to you being so worked up.

If you could just find a little release, you think, wondering how far you could get by just sticking your hand into your shorts and caressing your clit under the blanket that rests over your legs. God, you’re terrible, you tell yourself. How could you actually consider touching yourself in front of him? How could you want to sink your hand into your panties to get yourself off? How could you want to do that with him next to you? He can probably smell the arousal anyway, you consider with a bite of your lip, with a racing heart, with trembling fingers that decide to push past the waistband of your shorts to slip between your thighs.

You really have lost it, but you decide you don’t care. The ache is painful at this point and you only need a little release. A little bit of attention to get rid of some of the burning inside your body. You press your fingers to your slit, not bothering to even move your panties to the side. You can just play with yourself a little over the fabric to ease the tension, right?

“Fuck,” you whisper beneath your breath, closing your eyes and praying he didn’t hear you. It feels too good, you think. So good you can’t stop. You only wanted a little release. Get rid of a little bit of the pressure, the ache, the intense throbbing between your thighs that your fingers are making good work of as they perform quick, needy circles against your now damp panties. You gulp and feel the heaviness in your chest because you know it’s wrong, but your heat has you not caring how you should have just been honest with him.

You still have time, you tell yourself. You could excuse yourself and finish making yourself come in the privacy of your own bedroom. Or you could sit there next to him, inhaling his scent that warms every inch of your body and brings you closer to the edge. You could continue to caress your clit over your panties and you could begin rocking your hips next to him, praying he doesn’t catch on, but he’s a dog-hybrid, right? He can probably smell the way you’re soaking through your panties and smell how close you’re getting to release.

And as if the fog over your mind suddenly clears, it finally dawns on you what you’re doing.

“I’m sorry,” you begin mumbling as you stand from the couch, throwing the blanket off of you and making your way to your bedroom. “I don’t feel so well.”

You slam the door behind you, locking it with a flick of your wrist before sinking down onto the floor. God, how could you have done that to him? He only wanted to watch a movie he promised you would love. Always the kind and considerate guy thinking of you, and you had to allow your heat to ruin it. You hit your head against the door in defeat, body growing limp while the fire burning throughout every inch of you reminds you of your problem that has no plans of going away any time soon.

***

“I’m sorry. What I did was wrong and I took advantage of your kindness by being inappropriate. My heat does that sometimes, but it’s no excuse and I know that…” You pause to take a look at yourself in the mirror in front of you as you sit at your vanity, then sigh with your shoulders slumping. “Well, that’s what I’m going to tell you when you get home, at least. Whenever that is.”

He was already gone by the time you woke up in the morning, and after spending half the night trying to get yourself off and the other half in a deep sleep from pure exhaustion, you aren’t too surprised you missed him. Part of you feels like he’s avoiding you considering the two of you always at least have a coffee together in the mornings, but you woke up to an empty apartment and a heaviness in your chest. The other part prays he didn’t think anything of your strange exit the night before, but all of you knows just what kind of odd behavior your heat causes you to display.

Your ears twitch at the sound of the front door opening a moment later, and you take another glance at yourself in the mirror before exiting your bedroom. In the living room, you spot him settled on the couch, his cute, brown tail wagging a bit behind him as he grins at his phone, and his ears perk when he notices your presence.

“Oh, hey,” he tries to say casually, but you notice the way his body tenses at the sight of you. Great, you think, wondering if he hates you, or he’s just disgusted by your actions.

“Hey,” you greet him with a sigh, voice low as you nervously run your hands over your blouse before your fingers intertwine with one another in front of you. “Busy day?” You shift from foot to foot, but if he catches on to your nerves, he doesn’t let it show.

“Not really,” he replies with a shrug, not taking his eyes off of his phone. “Are you feeling better?” Finally he looks your way after he brushes a few loose strands of hair from his face. Your heart sinks now that all of his attention is on you, knowing you need to apologize for the night before.

“Um… about last night,” you begin, eyes falling to the floor because you’ve lost the nerve to meet his gaze, “I-“

“You got horny and touched yourself. I know.”

“Wh-What? How did you-“

“Do you think I couldn’t smell how wet you were?” He smirks and shakes his head. Dammit, you curse to yourself, already knowing he was capable of such but being too blinded by your heat to care.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh, “it was inappropriate of me and I shouldn’t have done that in front of you without you knowing.”

“I did know, though,” he corrects you, causing your face to burn with embarrassment. “It’s fine. I don’t really care. Sometimes guys just play with our dicks because we have ‘em. I get it.” He chuckles at that, and somehow it makes the embarrassment worse, heat now flooding every inch of your body.

“It’s not that simple,” you try to explain, “I’m in heat… I need to mate to get over it and since I don’t have a mate, I’m just… I don’t know, constantly horny. It’s miserable, to be honest.”

“I see,” he simply says, then he groans and sinks into the couch with his body slacked. “Fuck, that’s why I’ve been smelling you all week.”

“You have?” You blink at him, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he gulps.

“Yeah, I mean, I get it. And of course you know… as a male, knowing your body is ready for mating I’ve gotten, ugh…” He pauses, looking down at the forming bulge beneath his jeans to earn a quiet gasp from your lips. “So you see, you’re not the only one having issues here. Damn, I’ve been wondering why I’ve been having to jerk off multiple times a day. I didn’t know it was because of you.”

“S-Sorry,” You mutter, biting your lip and folding your arms just beneath your breasts. “I didn’t know I could affect you like that as well. I mean, you’re a dog-hybrid. We shouldn’t be compatible and I felt so guilty for feeling the things I did for you and-“

Suddenly your words fall short, eyes widening when you realize you have just outted yourself as being sexually attracted to your dog roommate. Not only that, but now he knows he’s the reason you have been so worked up, and he’s the reason you touched yourself last night.

“And… what?” he questions when you take too long to finish.

“I smell your scent. Your mating scent. I shouldn’t, but I do and it turns me on so much I’m going crazy over here.” The tears are tempted to well behind your lids as you speak due to how overwhelmed you have become during your heat. Your body burns with desire but the guilt challenges the reason you’re so worked up. You shouldn’t want him as much as you do. You shouldn’t be craving his touch and you shouldn’t be thinking of him when you’ve gotten yourself off just to ease the ache, but you have done so more times than you can count.

“Well… you’re not the only one.” He sighs and runs his hand over his face before scratching behind his ear, making it clear he’s trying to make sense of the situation. “I have those same feelings, if it makes you feel better.”

“It doesn’t,” you tease him, catching the way he grins and chuckles while you giggle at the absurd situation.

“Stop doing that,” he suddenly says, eyes darkening as he stares at you, voice deep and raspy enough to shake you to your core.

“Doing what?” You blink from his sudden shift in mood, pouting and quivering a bit on the inside, but you blame it on your heat instead of his sharp gaze.

“Just… fucking… I don’t know, being cute and giggling, and just.... existing! It’s making me hornier!” He throws his head back and closes his eyes in pure frustration, and even if you don’t admit it to him, it does make you feel a bit better that you’re not the only one going through such torture. “That fact that now I know you’re in heat and ready to mate and I can… smell you isn’t helping.”

The way he groans causes you to grin, as if the tables have turned and now he’s more miserable than you. “Aw, what’s wrong?” you tease him further just to get a rise out of him, figuring it’s better to laugh it off than be frustrated at one another for a situation that can’t be helped. “Are you going to pounce me?”

“No, I’m going to throw this pillow at you.” With that, he reaches to his right for a small, yet firm couch pillow that comes flying your way a second later. You gasp and block with your hands, allowing it to fall to the floor while laughing. It’s clear the two of you are in new territory, and neither of you know how to react, so you admit your defeat and mope toward him to sit next to him on the couch with your body slumped.

“I feel like my whole body is on fire.”

“Don’t you have some cat-hybrid you can call?” he asks, not bothering to look your way as he hums in thought. “What’s his name… Park…”

“No, I can’t call him. I think he’s like, mated now or something.” Sighing, you pout and fold your arms over your chest. “God, if only. He would make me come so hard…”

“Stop,” he groans, slinging his arm over his eyes while his other hand grips the prominent bulge in his jeans. You try not to look, but you can’t resist once you realize just how aroused he’s become. “I don’t want to think about you coming. I’m so hard I think my dick might fall off.”

“Well…” You bite your lip for a moment, heart racing as an idea pops into your head. “There is something we could do.”

“What?”

You’re hesitant to answer in fear of him thinking you’re crazy. You only need a little release to knock the edge off. You only need a bit of attention to rid yourself of the ache. “We could just get each other off.” Your eyes snap shut as you speak the words, afraid of his reaction. It’s not like the two of you have ever shown attraction to one another before now, but in the moment you decide the thing you want to help your situation is him. “Like, I don’t know… considering you’re a dog-hybrid I’m not sure if it will help me while I’m in heat, but it’s worth a shot, right? When you’re ready to mate you just need to like, fuck something, right?”

“God… don’t say that.” He groans even deeper and it rattles you to the core. His every move, his every noise, and even his every breath begins working you up further. There’s no question about how much you need him now.

“Say what?”

“Say anything that makes me imagine fucking you because that’s all I can think about now.”

“Really?” A devious smirk forms over your lips. You position yourself on your knees a second later, body facing him while leaning closer, brushing the strands of his hair with gentle fingertips to watch the way his eyes flutter. “What are you thinking about? Which position?”

“Stop…” He licks his lips and grips his cock tighter, and you have to admit the thrill that rushes inside you. It gives you confidence, knowing he wants you just as badly as you want him.

“Doggy style?” You can’t help but to giggle as he groans at the painfully obvious choice in position, but a devilish thought comes over you a moment later, deciding to test his limits as you lean closer, whispering in his ear. “What about me riding you? What about me on top of you, sinking down onto your cock and rolling my hips slowly just to tease you? Have you ever thought about that? Because, fuck… I am thinking about it now and I am so damn wet it’s beginning to drip onto my thighs.”

His nostrils flare and his chest rises as he takes in the deepest breath while you speak, and he exhales through his trembling lips before groaning. “Fuck… I didn’t know you were such a tease.”

You smirk at the satisfaction of knowing your words are getting to him. You grow a bit more bold, though your heart races as you reach for the hem of your skirt. “Do you want to see how wet I am?” With that, you lean away from him, parting your thighs while hiking up your skirt, and you watch his eyes instantly dart to the darkened, wet spot at the base of your white panties.

“God…” he exhales, eyes growing wide and pupils dilated as he breathes you in, “you smell incredible.”

The compliment has heat surging from between your thighs. As he stares, you gain even more confidence, deciding to tease him further and have him just as on edge as you are. “Do you… do you want to taste it?”

“You know I fucking do, dammit…” He responds without hesitation now. As he gulps and throws his head back to finally tear his gaze away from you, you can see his own arousal getting the best of him just like it has done to you for days.

“Look, let’s just help each other out here. I’m in heat and you’re ready to mate, and it’s not going to go away until you do mate… or at least fuck someone. Just fuck me.” Your voice lowers with every word, completely out of ideas to where helping one another seems like the only possible solution considering you trust him and feel more than comfortable being with him. “Nothing will change between us. We’ll get through this and it will go back to the way it was before, where I annoy you and you secretly love it because you find me irresistibly cute and charming.”

“Is that what you think?” he asks after glancing your way, and the grin on his face thanks to your words causes you to giggle. “Fine… let’s do this. I’ll help you.” With a sigh, he gives in to what his body wants, but his reassuring smile tells you helping you in the process is what really convinced him.

“Okay, how should we do this?” you ask, settling back on the couch, but your eyes grow wide when he positions himself on his knees, gripping your thighs and pulling you closer.

“I’m gonna taste your pussy first because you’re a fucking tease,” he says, nearly growling while his hands roam beneath your skirt in search of the hem to your panties. “And then you’re going to ride my cock nice and slow, just like you said.”

“O-Oh…” He ignores your whimpering as he yanks your panties down to your knees, not even bothering to take them completely off first before pressing two strong hands to the backs of your thighs. With urgency he pushes your legs higher, almost reaching your chest as he displays your wet, dripping cunt for his eyes to see. As he takes in the sight of you laying on the couch before him, thighs spread and swollen slit, he inhales your scent as a deep groan builds in his throat.

“Fuck… you really do smell amazing,” is all he says before dipping his head, not wasting any time before a flick of his tongue allows him the first taste of your juices. The sensation has you gasping, head falling back to the couch cushion and hands reaching to rest over his own that still grip the backs of your thighs. Another swipe of his tongue leaves you breathless, eyes screwing shut when licks from your dripping entrance all the way up to your clit.

He focuses on the spot that has your body trembling, performing steady circles of his tongue until you can’t resist calling out his name breathlessly. The tension begins to build, overwhelming all over your senses as the heat swallows you whole. He groans between your thighs, loving your taste, the way you drip with need, and how you shiver beneath his touch at the slightest of motions. Your head spins and the world drowns out around you as he eats you out to bring you pleasure and the fact that your heat has had you so worked up, you realize you won’t last long due to desperately needing release for days.

“God,” you cry out, voice strained and his name trembling on the tip of your tongue, “I’m-”

You don’t have a chance to warn him before the pleasure surges through your body, succumbing to the intense burn from your heat until every inch of you feels warm and lighter than air. He continues teasing your clit as your hips roll against his face, tasting you as you come undone with hardly any warning, lapping up your slit and drinking every drop of release you have to offer.

As you come down you continue to shake, finding the urge hardly satisfied though finding release at least once thanks to his tongue has you thinking a bit more clearly.

You swallow hard and close your eyes just as he pulls away from you, though you remain aching between your legs and needing so much more from him.

“Did you, uh... you came already?” From his surprised tone you’re aware he wasn’t expecting you to get off so quickly, but there’s no time to explain to him how your heat does that to you. You need more. You need him.

“Please,” you whimper, batting your lashes with a pout as you glance up at his glistening lips covered in your juices. “I need you to fuck me. I need to come again.”

His brows arch for a split-second, pleasantly surprised you’re already so willing to continue. Your eyes lower to notice the bulge in his jeans that looks painfully hard, ready to break free so you can sink down onto him as the final step to receive release. You lick your lips and groan while sitting up to reach for him, quickly tugging at a flimsy button and an annoying zipper to get to him.

“W-Wait.” He carefully pushes your hands away, though his troubled expression convinces you he doesn’t want to. “Let me go get a condom.”

His ears twitch and he runs a hand over his face, having a hard time pulling himself away for even a second, but he manages to disappear down the hall. Meanwhile, you make quick work of your thin blouse and flimsy skirt, dropping both to the floor before your panties and bra join in a messy pile. He returns to find you naked and waiting, fluffy, white tail swishing from side to side as if you’re ready to pounce him, matching white ears flattened and eyes narrowed his way. He licks his lips and nearly rips his t-shirt over his head before pushing his jeans and boxer briefs down to his hips, uncovering a thick cock that’s dying to be touched.

“Sit,” you command him, voice stern and needy, and he follows the instructions well once you’ve snatched the foil wrapper from his hand. As you climb over top of him, your lips crash onto his own, straddling his lips and tasting yourself on his skin. He groans against your lips, taking you by the hips to hold you in place for a moment, cherishing the feel of hot, soft skin against his own.

There’s a wild look in his eyes when you pull away. A look of pure lust and desire and it fuels your heat in ways you’ve never experienced. The ache returns at an incredible intensity, almost painful as you rip open the condom wrapper to roll down his hot, needy length. He groans at the slightest touch, and you realize just how much you affect him when you’re dying for your own release.

You waste no time aligning the tip of his cock with your entrance. One shaking hand attempts to hold him steady, feeling the head press against your folds, easing inside as waves of heat wash over you, telling you this is exactly what you needed.

“Fuck…” You can’t hold back releasing breathless curses as you sink yourself onto his awaiting cock, listening to the way a growl builds in his chest, so ready to have your warmth and wetness surrounding him. You ease yourself onto him, closing your eyes to cherish the feeling of him entering you for the first time, easing your ache and filling you up until your bodies connect. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you tight and not being able to resist pumping his hips into you once you’re settled on his lap.

“God, you feel incredible,” he groans out just as you gasp from the intense pressure of him within you, head falling back, jaw slacked, sweat dripping down his temple to tell you how desperately he needed to be inside of you. You remain still for a moment, adjusting to the feeling and allowing him deep within you to settle part of the intense burning of your heat. You lick your lips before exhaling a heavy breath, placing your hands on his bare shoulders to keep a tight grip. “You know… I could get used to this…”

His sudden deep, raspy voice catches you off guard, eyes fluttering open to see the look of pure ecstasy on his face. A slight grin on his lips. Eyes and brow relaxed. A subtle flush to his cheeks. Though you don’t say it, you agree with him. It feels nice feeling him inside of you, feeling his hands on your hips, having him so close and in the moment, it seems more intense than just a craving during your heat.

“Really?” you finally ask him, beginning to move your hips ever so slowly, just like you told him you wanted to.

“Mm, yeah,” he replies, smile widening just as he begins to push his hips toward you from between your thighs. He matches your slow, steady movements, fucking himself into you as you ride him, causing you to whimper his name to have him chuckling from how overwhelmed you’ve become. “You feel so damn good. So warm all wrapped around me like this. I don’t think… I don’t think I will be able to stop thinking about this even after your heat is finished.”

From his words, there’s a new warmth blossoming in your body. It builds in your chest in the form of anticipation and surges through you to fill you with hope. You bite your lip to keep from grinning, picking up pace while riding him. You squeeze yourself around him just to feel his hands tighten on your body and hear the way he growls deep and rough from the pleasure.

“I don’t think so, either.” You close your eyes again, feeling the bliss reach from your head to your toes, nails digging into his skin and the way his groans from the sting fills you with satisfaction. “I think I might… I might enjoy this way too much to not want it again.”

“Yeah?” he asks, and among the pressure building, the heat rising in your body, butterflies begin fluttering in your stomach from his words. “Maybe next time we can do doggy style.”

With that, he has you giggling before you’re moaning, feeling him pumping his hips with more aggression from below. You tighten your grip on his shoulders and grind yourself against him harder, faster, falling into a steady rhythm of pure bliss as the moment takes hold. You’re overwhelmed, beginning to shake as his cock hits you deeper and the effects of your heat make every motion, every touch or moan or whimper, so much more erotic. You succumb to the bliss with bitten lip, eyes shut tight, and a furrowed brow as you ride him through your second orgasm.

He holds you tighter and fucks you from between your thighs, pumping himself into you as you finally let go, calling out his name in a breathless whimper, body doubling over and resting against his own. He wraps arms around you, holding you still while feeling your dripping walls contract around his cock, so close to his own end after feeling you coming undone around him. A few more pumps of his cock within you brings him to that release, head falling back once again, groaning a few curses until he finally slows his pace.

Your body is relaxed as you both come down from the high. He slips out of you, but you remain resting on top of him. Your forehead presses against his own with shy smiles shared between the two of you, finally finding your body content and your heat no longer troublesome. You catch your breaths for a moment as he drags his fingertips across your bare back and you whimper softly from feeling so at ease with him, thankful he could help you through your heat while causing you to realize what you felt for him wasn’t due an insatiable need, but because you truly wanted to be with him.

#bts smut #marvel smut #call of duty smut #twilight smut #harry potter smut #jungkook smut #loki smut #nct smut #got7 smut #monsta x smut #stray kids smut #harry styles smut #ghost smut #jimin smut #taehyung smut #x reader #x reader smut

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bonny-kookoo · 1 year

Text

Jungkook: Lacrymaria olor 3

In which Jungkook shows you more of his world, while you grow all the more closer to him.

Tags/Warnings: Alien AU, Alien!Jungkook, Human!Reader, Angst, Blood and Violence, Strangers to I don't know?

Additional Chapter Warnings: Fluff, minor injury and mention of blood

Length: Short

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Incense sticks are burned in golden holders all around the palace, it seems.

When you woke up a few hours ago, Jungkook was nowhere to be seen, so you took it upon yourself to find him. However, curiosity certainly has gotten the best of you by now as you don't even notice you've gotten horribly lost. You don't really mind. Everyone you soot seems occupied and well aware of who you are to the king.

It feels like something is happening today. A festival of some sorts, maids all eager to decorate and chatter a lot more to their fellow workers.

"There you are." Jungkooks voice rings out, the maids you've been looking at bowing immediately and keeping their heads down in trained behavior while the king is present. He's dressed in different clothing today, looking festive in a way you're not sure how to describe, satin garments hiding his physique underneath. "I leave you out of my sight, and you're gone like startled prey." He chuckles, running a hand through your hair.

"What's going on around here?" You wonder, walking next to him as his hand stays on the small of your back, gently leading. "Is something special happening?"

"We're celebrating the planet's turning point." He explains. "The day a new cycle starts, we offer food and dance to the planet, so she grants us another cycle on her lands."

"Oh, so like new year's?" You mumble to yourself, making Jungkook chuckle amused. "No, more like the planet's birthday.." you seem to think. He laughs.

"In a way, that's true." He nods. "We don't own the ground we walk on truly, after all. It's hers, and we're simply living on it. I believe it is why the Temian kind is still thriving, while humans have done nothing but take from the earth." He mercilessly says, no hesitation at all.

"Yeah, we really messed up our planet.." you say a bit sadly, making him shake his head.

"Earth is no longer your home. You belong here now, right at my side." He grins, eyes closing happily for a second before he leads you to a lavishly decorated spot near the throne room. "Come, I'll show you how to make an offering. It's not hard, you'll learn it quickly I'm sure." He nods, sitting down onto the floor with you.

You copy what he's doing next to you; taking one of the wooden sticks that's covered in floral smelling paste before lighting it in the tiny flame provided. He sticks it in what looks like flour maybe, before he brakes off a piece of dark looking bread, placing it in the large bowl in the middle underneath a statue of a beast that looks like something between a dragon and a bear. Then, he takes a silver knife, metal decorated in swirls and symbols, and cuts the end of one of his fingers, the drop of almost black looking blood dripping into the bowl.

This part intimidates you.

"Do you want me to help?" He asks, eyes unreadable as he looks over at you. Without any resistance, you place your hand into his, where he effortlessly does the same to your finger as he did to himself - your own, bright red blood slowly falling into the bowl. He seems mesmerized at the sight, eyes never leaving the wound before he brings it to his lips, licking the excess off before he lets it go from between his lips, an almost sensual smile on then as he watches you.

"Even your blood is sweet, little thing." He tells you, chuckles before he stands up with you. "Lets go sneak into the kitchens. Maybe they have something to eat already for us to steal?" He impishly suggests, before pulling you along with him.

Jungkook is an odd guy sometimes.

He switches from the almost childish young man to the ruthless king in a matter of seconds in front of your eyes, never seems to lose control of himself at any cost, while also appearing untamed in the way he acts. Like a tiger in captivity he maybe appear to be calm and docile, but he's still ready to strike and kill at any chance given to him.

It shows when later that night, when he's offered a sword made by the local weapons union of his kingdom, the first thing he does is inspect its delicate decorated metal before he raises it at the man that gifted it to him, very tip barely touching his throat. It makes you flinch, but nobody else. It seems to amuse and entertain everyone present, if anything.

It reminds you that this is no human culture, no matter how often you compare it.

And slowly, you're coming to terms with it. You yourself will never fully understand any of it, but you have become a lot calmer by now. Jungkook doesn't like violence, no Temian does. But it's part of their culture, their way of showing pride and strength.

Behind closed doors, he easily grows soft, however.

Like now, with his big round red eyes staring at you after you'd asked him if you could sleep next to him tonight. He nods eagerly, throws back the covers, and pulls you close to him before he kills the lights. You've got your head on his chest, and oddly, accompanying his slow heartbeat is a deep rumbling, like a large cat purring.

It's odd. Reminds you he's not the same as you. But at the same time, it calms you down a lot. Makes you feel sleepy and safe, as if nothing could ever hurt you.

You've got your protector right at your side after all.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #alien jungkook #alien!jungkook

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sirowsky-stories · 7 months

Text

The Old Prince

So, this is my entry for the Halloween themed Pedro Pascal Writing Challenge hosted by @pedrocontestsrus Thank you for organizing this! And if anyone else is interested in entering the competition, here's a link to the post with all the info.

I chose Prompt #2 Theme: A Dark and Stormy Night. However, I suck at short, so this is basically just a teaser which I'm gonna have to continue outside of the contest.

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Warnings: Monster Oberyn Martell x Female Reader, Game of Thrones AU, obviously Halloween themed, reader cusses, reader is attacked and abducted. Also, this is my first time writing Oberyn. Word Count: 4041 Author's Masterlist

You run at full speed despite the darkness, ignoring the burning in your lungs and the furious pounding of your heart, even though you know that he’s already gone and that your running would only scare him off if he wasn’t. The woods have always scared you and even now, in your mid-thirties, you still panic when you’re alone among the creaking old trees, spider webs and nightly active animals, all of whom seem intent on eating you. At least, to your own imagination.

“Damned it, Casper…” you breathlessly curse the horse for leaving you, once you’ve been forced to a stop by the pain in your lungs.

He’s normally very brave but being in the woods in the middle of a building storm is apparently too much even for his stout heart. So, you’re left to walk the remaining four miles to your house, and not for the first time, you find yourself wondering why the hell you’d chosen to live all the way out here, surrounded by the very woods that have always been such a source of discomfort to you.

“Because that was all you could afford, dimwit,” you chastise yourself out loud.

The house you now live in had been put up for sale after the previous owner had been missing for a few years and was eventually declared dead, despite her body never being found. It’s small and old, but well maintained and very charming, so you’d been surprised to be the only one interested in it.

You’ve lived there for over six years now and while it’s a bit secluded and a little too far from town, you do love it. The hiking trails leading up to the seven hills that make up the east boundary of the region run right by your property, and in daylight, you love to ride or just wander up to the peaks and admire the view.

There are rarely any larger wildlife passing through so for the most part, it’s quite safe, so long as you remember to bring water and check for lose rocks on the steeper sections of the trails. But now, in the near pitch-black darkness of night, you can’t even recognize the trail you’re on. So, why are you even out here?

Well, that would be because you’d started out in daylight, as usual, but then gotten involved in a search for another missing person in the hills, which had left you out there until well after nightfall. You had of course expected Casper to bring you home safe and sound, like he usually does no matter what’s going on around him. But unfortunately, on this occasion, the horse had lost its footing and fallen to the ground.

He’d gotten up without trouble, but since you’d no longer been on his back at that point, he’d gotten spooked, probably by the reins getting caught in his legs or something, and had taken off. You hope that he gets home without hurting himself, but you’re also quite angry with him for not recognizing your voice and staying by your side instead of running off on his own.

But your thoughts are disrupted by a creaking sound coming from behind you, a sound definitely not created by a tree. You stop, feeling a cold shiver move slowly down your spine, and you know that you’re in danger. You have no idea exactly what is watching you right now, but you know that something is.

You hear that same sound again, mere moments after the first, and even as you instinctively set off running, too panicked to even know if you’re still on the trail, your mind tries to work out what the hell that sound is. The winds are picking up, building towards the forecasted storm that has all the kids in town excited because of how perfect it is for the Halloween celebration, but it’s making it so much harder for you to hear if something’s chasing you.

Unable to stop yourself, you throw a look over your right shoulder, and a strangled scream escapes you when you catch a glimpse of something impossibly large and strangely shiny, and then just teeth. You try to run faster but you can’t. The dark world around you is a blur as you wait for those teeth to sink into your flesh and torture you to death. It seems to take so long.

And then it happens. You’re snagged to a stop so quickly that it makes your legs lift off the ground as they’re kicked forwards by the momentum. Something has your shoulder between its jaws, but that’s as much as you’re aware of before the world fades away and nothing exists anymore.

-=¤=-

You wake up on a bed in a room with a strange ceiling and stone walls. You’re groggy and only half awake, so it takes you a moment to realize that there are paintings covering the ceiling, making the stones look kind of fluid. Beautiful images of stormy seas and a red sunset flow across the domed shape, bringing it to life in a way that stone shouldn’t be capable of.

Then you remember, and bring your left hand up to examine your right shoulder, half expecting it to just not be there. But it is, and it feels fine. You sit up, relieved but also confused that there’s no pain, and as your bare feet hit the cold floors, your eyes are drawn to the rest of the room. It’s round and there’s a window in every direction, revealing the daylight outside, but also every detail inside.

The bed is easily large enough for two people, and the sheets and blankets are the softest you’ve ever felt. There’s a loveseat underneath one of the windows, with plush pillows leaned against the armrests. In the middle of the room is a carpet which you can tell just by looking at it, likely costs more than your house. And the curtains, four matching pairs, all a deep red, somehow seem both heavy and feathery light.

There’s a door to your left, and it’s standing open, so at least you’re not a prisoner. But you don’t feel like one regardless. All of this is so strange, because you’re sure that something bit you, but you can’t find any wounds in your skin. There are holes in your shirt, though. And where’s your jacket? Why are you barefoot?

You head for the door and find a winding staircase leading down, so this is apparently a tower. At the foot of the stairs is a corridor and then more stairs, twirling the other way this time, so you keep heading down, passing closed doors and empty spaces until you reach a pair of large double doors that are left wide open.

There’s a fire crackling inside and your cold feet and bare arms have left you shivering, so you head inside, finding the biggest open fireplace you’ve ever seen, in the other end of the huge room. It must be a ballroom or excessively large dining room, but it’s completely empty, save for a padded short stool in front of the fire.

You sit and warm yourself, trying to think back, to remember any details that might help you understand what’s happened to you, but nothing comes to mind. And then a movement to your right startles you to your feet.

“My apologies, miss. I have a habit of moving quietly,” a dark and low voice says, and when you locate the man who that voice belongs to, you’re momentarily stunned into silence.

He’s tall and broad, but quite lean, with a perfectly chiseled jaw and a beard trimmed to accentuate that. He wears no jewelry, but his dark green coat has golden threads and small embroideries on the cuffs and along the collar. Shapes too small for you to make out at ten feet of distance, but which from afar remind you of snakes. Still, it’s his eyes that rob your brain of most its function.

So dark, but also incredibly expressive. He’s curious, intrigued, but wary. As though you might pose a threat to him somehow, which seems impossible to you.

“W-… Where are my shoes?” you manage to croak, still unable to break away from his eyes.

“I took your shoes and your jacket to encourage you not to run away once you awoke. I’m afraid I am going to need you to remain here for the time being,” the man explains, and suddenly your brain wakes up in full.

“So, I’m your captive, is that what you’re telling me?”

“Yes, and no. You are my captive, as much as I am yours.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? I have no idea who you are,” you counter, getting angry because that’s all you can do to keep from panicking.

“My name is Oberyn, and this is my home. You’re welcome to explore as much as you like, but I would recommend staying away from the basement. Especially at night.”

“Why? Do you have more prisoners down there you don’t want me to set free?”

“Oh, there are cages down there, and many of them are occupied,” he says, while taking a few steps closer to you. “But I doubt that you would want to release any of the creatures that are locked inside.”

Creatures? What the hell does he mean by that? He’s only three feet away when he stops, just as the outside light catches his eyes at a different angle, and you can swear that you see something else within them. A bright golden shine seems to illuminate them from within for just a fraction of a second, as if reacting to the sun’s rays.

“The tower is yours. I will not venture there without your approval for the duration of your stay. But the rest of the castle is my domain, and you move through it at your own risk. Do you understand?” he asks, to which your anger flares.

“Understand? No… I really don’t. Who are you?! What is this place, where the hell am I?! There aren’t any castles anywhere near the seven hills! And what the hell was it that chased me last night, and why do I have bitemarks in my shirt but not on my skin? What the fuck is going on?!”

He lets you scream and rant without so much as a twitch bothering his mustache, and says nothing as you begin to pace in front of the fireplace, crossing your arms in silent defiance, but also an attempt to guard yourself against all this strangeness.

“You were bitten by a serpent,” he quietly says, just as you’re about to give up and leave the room.

“It was a lot bigger than any snake, and it had a lot more than two fangs,” you counter, all but spitting at him now, further angered by the notion that he might be trying to convince you that you imagined the whole thing.

“I didn’t say that it was a snake,” he replies, and you stop pacing.

“And what is a serpent if not a damned snake?” you challenge, but he seems unbothered.

“Is that all it can be? You must think broader than that, young one.”

His words make no sense to you. Serpent, snake, fucking danger noodle, it’s all the same. And “young one”? He’s at most five years older than you.

“Please, just tell me where we are?” you finally ask, deciding that there’s probably no point in trying to argue with this mystery man.

He looks at you for a good minute then, as if trying to decide if he should answer, and you notice that he doesn’t blink a lot, which is surprisingly unsettling.

“We are six hundred and nine miles from your home. Give or take a few dozen feet.”

That takes you a second to process.

“What!?” you almost scream, unable to take any more of this incomprehensible nonsense. “Do you honestly expect me to believe that you had a fucking helicopter hidden in the woods, or something?”

“Take a look outside the windows,” he calmly suggests. “I’m sure the snow on the ground will help you come to terms with the truth that you are no longer as far south as you think.”

Unwilling to take his word for it, you walk over to the nearest window, where the view makes your heart sink. Because he’s right. Not only are there several inches of snow covering everything in sight, but you also don’t recognize the landscape at all. And that’s when the realization of just how much trouble you’re in, finally dawns on you.

Turning away from the window, you now meet your captor’s eyes, for the first time with fear brimming within your own. Unable to stop yourself, you try to back away from him but there’s a wall in the way, so you start moving sideways instead, heading for the open double doors of the room. He doesn’t try to stop you, but just before you turn your back to him as you’re crossing the threshold, his expression turns incredibly sad.

You run through the halls, fully panicking now and having no idea where you’re even going. But then another set of large double doors are in front of you, so you grab the handle on one of them and pull it open. It’s the front entrance. You’re standing on the top ledge of another staircase, this one twisting off in both directions, leading down to a massive courtyard.

There’s a fountain in the shape of a rearing Pegasus in the middle, so big that the lilac shrubs which surrounds it barely even reach halfway up its hindlegs. And beyond that, is a giant garden of cherry trees and rhododendron hedges, in the middle of which, a wide driveway comes straight through, right up to the courtyard. A driveway that’s so long, you can’t even see the end of it, where it disappears into the surrounding woods.

You couldn’t run from here even with your shoes and jacket.

The freezing wind brushes over your exposed skin, making you shiver and wrap your arms around yourself while sorrow suddenly burns through you, bringing tears to your eyes. But then something soft and warm falls over your shoulders and you flinch, spinning on your heels and quickly backing away, further out onto the ledge to try and get away from him, which means stepping into the icy cold snow in just your skin.

“Please…” he says, and he sounds alluringly soft and inviting now, which only adds to your suspicions. “I have no intention of harming you.”

“Then how about you tell me what exactly your intention is?” you counter, barely able to keep your jaws from clattering with how badly you’ve started shaking.

He takes a deep breath and then slowly releases it, somehow looking sadder and more tired with each milliliter of air that escapes him.

“I just… I’m sorry. Please, come back inside before you get frostbite on your feet.”

“That’s n-not an answer,” you challenge, already trembling all over now.

“I know, this is why I’m sorry, but how is hurting yourself going to help the situation?” he wonders, and you have to concede that it doesn’t.

You huff once in defiance, and then step forward, allowing him to wrap the blanket around you. But you hadn’t expected him to sweep you up into his arms and carry you inside.

“Hey, I c-can still walk, p-put me down!”

“The floors are cold here. I will put you down once you’re in a room with a rug.”

“Or you c-could just give me b-back my shoes,” you gripe, and he hums in what sounds like a thoughtful manner to you, as if he’s conceding that maybe he was wrong to take them from you.

But he says nothing more, and as he carries you through the empty hallways, none of which look familiar to you because this place is apparently a damned maze, you steal a few closer glances at him. His skin is in better condition than yours ever has been, to the point where even his stubble looks soft. And his hair looks flawless. Not one strand of the curls on his head seems damaged or less bouncy than the rest. And the same goes for his beard and mustache.

His clothes are perfectly tailored, and they look new, but they don’t smell like it. Instead, the only smell you detect seems to be his, and it’s not at all unpleasant. Contrarily, the longer you smell him, the more inviting the scent becomes. You’re somewhat embarrassed to realize that you’ve stopped shivering with the warmth that spreads through you from within, just from that delicious scent.

The room that he finally turns into is small and smells of paper, reminiscent of the old bookstore in the city back home, run by a sweetheart of an old lady who also happens to be the grandmother of the missing woman who’s house you live in. She was the only one who’d come by with a housewarming gift after you’d moved in. That’s how sparsely populated your social circle is.

It looks to be an office, of sorts. There’s a fireplace here too, already lit and crackling warmly in the far corner of the room. To the left is a desk filled with scrolls of paper and what looks like old maps of countries you don’t recognize, and to the right are shelves filled with more scrolls, books and scraps of paper. There’s an armchair and a small sofa in front of the fire, and he sets you down on the sofa before kneeling in front of you to inspect your wet and freezing feet.

You’re about to argue that you’re perfectly capable of tending to your own extremities, but something about his touch stops you. His fingers seem warmer than they should be, almost feverishly so, but more than that, his skin feels like it’s giving off tiny electric impulses where it meets yours. And the feeling is highly intoxicating.

He quickly examines your feet and then sits back and looks up at you again, where a curious expression flashes across his features as he notices that you’re suddenly a bit out of it. He seems concerned at first, and then… is he blushing?

“If I get you your socks and your boots, will you promise me that you will not go running into the woods and getting yourself lost?” he asks, sternly holding your gaze while he looks for any traces of deception in your answer.

Except you don’t give any. Because you can’t make that promise. Not when you still don’t know why he’s brought you here or why he intends to keep you here.

“I don’t suppose it would make much difference if I told you that we are much too far away from any other people for you to make it there alive in winter?” he sighs, and he does seem genuinely worried that you won’t believe him.

“Actually, I do believe you on that part. I just also believe that dying while running for your freedom might be better than living in captivity,” you explain, and once again, something terribly sad comes over him.

“I really wish you could trust that I don’t intend to harm you, young one.”

“Why do you call me that? I can’t be that much younger than you.”

He chuckles drily at that, but it’s a sound of hopelessness rather than bemusement.

“If only that were true…” he says quietly, turning his gaze to the floor for a moment before he rises and leaves the room.

When he returns, only a few seconds later, he’s carrying your shoes and wool socks, both of which he appears to have cleaned, hands them to you and then steps back while you put them on. For a moment, you contemplate more questions, but the more you think about the strangeness of this whole situation, the more you just want to pretend that it’s a dream and that you’re gonna wake up and laugh at yourself any second now.

“The tower’s mine?” you find yourself asking, instead of any real questions.

“That whole wing is yours for as long as you’re here,” he nods.

“And how long might that be?”

“For now, I can’t say with any certainty, but hopefully no more than a few days.”

He does look genuinely apologetic as he says that, but you’re relieved to hear it. Somehow, you’d envisioned being a captive for years, locked away in that tower. But there’s something innately honest about this guy. You have no reason to trust anything he says, and yet you do.

“And what determines how long my stay ends up being?” you wonder, while rising from the sofa and daring yourself to take one step towards him.

He doesn’t react in any visible way to your truly minimal challenge, but you wonder if perhaps he likes that you don’t just accept your circumstances when they don’t feel right to you. There’s a little glimmer in his eyes that might just be a hint of awe.

“How long it takes me to figure out how you’re still alive,” he quietly answers, bringing you back to the severity of the moment.

Turning away from you, he reaches for an old-fashioned candlestick holder, lights the candle and then hands it to you.

“Living light reveals the path to the tower,” he says, as if that isn’t the most useless piece of information you’ve ever gotten, and then gestures to the open door.

Utterly confused, you step out into the dusky hallway, half expecting the wooden door to slam shut behind you, but it doesn’t. When you turn back to ask him which direction to turn, you find him right behind you, already showing you to the right with a gentlemanly open hand aiming that way. You nod your thanks and begin walking, still without a clue as to what the candle is meant to show you. Until it does.

Once the dancing light hits a certain wall, a faint glow appears in a thin line running along the wall, around waist-height. You follow it, seeing it fade away as soon as the flame isn’t directly in front of it, and before you know it, you’re back at those winding stairs. Walking back into the chamber at the top, you find that nothing’s moved since you left.

You walk around the room, examining everything more closely, finding two large and fully stocked bookcases hidden behind drapes on either side of the fireplace. There’s also a closet built into the wall next to the bed, and there are very old dresses hanging in there, covered with dust, making you wonder who the girl might’ve been that those clothes had originally belonged to.

Realizing that you haven’t asked your captor how to get food or how he intends to figure out how you’ve miraculously healed, you spend a few minutes pondering on whether you’ve got the energy to make the long walk back down to look for a kitchen and ask if you’re expected to come down from your tower at any specific times. But ultimately, you decide to leave it for now, picking out a book instead. You’re too stressed still to be able to eat anything anyway.

The book keeps you occupied for the entire afternoon, and it isn’t until it grows dark that you eventually close it and get up, intending to go looking for that kitchen. You’d left the candle holder in the window that faces the front of the castle, although you can’t see the courtyard from behind the main structure, but as you go to pick it up, a movement outside catches your eye.

Peering down towards the ground, you see a door swing open, and then something runs across the section of the yard that you can see. It’s so fast that you can’t be sure, but it looks like it could be what attacked you last night. And it looks like… a dragon. A dragon that just ran out of the same castle where you’re trapped.

Part 2

Thank you for reading! I had so much fun with this and I'm nowhere near done with it. Huge Thanks to @joelswritingmistress for inspiring me to take on Oberyn, I didn't think I ever would.

If anyone wishes to be notified when this story is updated, follow @sirowsky-stories and turn on notifications, or just ask nicely, and I'll tag you.

#PedroHalloween2023 #pedro pascal character fanfiction #oberyn martell fanfiction #oberyn martell x female reader #oberyn x reader #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones au #modern!au #halloween writing #sirowsky stories

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