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sanguineships · 7 months

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𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐕𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 / 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄 ��𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅/𝐎 — 🦇🍷

summary:

whether you imagine yourself in the clutches of a mysterious vampire whom you not know, or you are picturing the hungry embrace of the your fanged love one, you will find yourself laid in bed when your heart begins to race. something thirsted for you.

extra : blood, dark themes. sfw, but sensual.

word count: 950~

authors note: i haven’t done one of these before so my apologies if it’s clunky at all. either way, enjoy, and do let me know what you think!

The weight of daylight had finally began to sink into an evening glow. You’d been sitting outside after a long day, stirring a drink leisurely and admiring the rich oranges fading into the horizon. Your emotions were in a bit of an unsteady state and the tire of life was sitting on your shoulders. It was a relief that tomorrow, there wasn’t too much to do. Perhaps a chore here and there but nothing that would be particularly exhausting.

As the sun finally finished its fall, you remembered the full moon is tonight. Hopefully, before you went to bed, you’d remember to spy its glory. Or maybe you’d wake up in the middle of the night and see it. Sleep hadn’t come so easily as of late. Something about the moon had always called to your heart. Such beauty had always drawn you toward a nocturnal lifestyle, but it had never seemed sustainable.

Eventually, you walked back inside and undressed, then switched to your night attire. You caught yourself waving a hand toward your face. A mist of sweat wept from your skin. Regardless of the season, this bedroom had always held onto heat. A sigh of irritation escaped you while you pulled the collar of your shirt, and then in a final gulp of thirst you decided to open the window.

A rush of cool air blew over your flesh, comfortable shivering dancing along your spine. It was soothing, and refreshing. Curtains fluttered toward you, making a subtle flapping noise. However, the screen needed to replaced. You’d taken it out a while ago, and the natural thought of self preservation crossed your mind. Nonetheless, it had already been decided to brave the dangers of leaving the window open in trade for a peaceful, much needed sleep.

After getting a drink, you finally fell into bed and pulled a light cover over yourself. Still you shifted for a while, tangling amidst the sheets. The ticking of the clock was agitating, but not enough to stand up to actually turn it off. The flapping of the curtains came harder, almost like they were wings. About a half hour passed, though, and with some deep breathing you managed to calm down.

Caught in between the uncomfortable state of dream and sleep, it crossed your mind that the wind had picked up. Perhaps it was to rain, although you’d not seen many clouds from the window earlier. But quick changes of weather weren’t the most unusual thing. The branches outside clattered a bit, thunder rumbled in the distance. Without even realizing the severity of it, your heart was pumping hard. Harder than it should be.

Now, you were really caught in confusion. Was it sleep paralysis? Hallucinations? Your half asleep mind did not allow you to move nor squirm, as if something had taken hold of you and forced you into the state of incoherent sleep. Finally, you understood that it was not just branches clattering, but the sound of scratching at the window as something climbed up into your room after it had landed on the ledge. Your heart ran so hard you could practically taste the iron in your mouth, unable to move or scream. It truly had happened, someone was here to take your life!

A soft tickling sensation met your bare neck. It was hair, rubbing against the tenderness of your living throat. There was no breath, nothing that you truly recognized as human. A long, drawn out moment enraptured you with true and horrifying fear. The pulse in your throat was a drum to your ears, which washed out the thunder. Thump. Thump. Thump.

That “something” grabbed you, roughly held your shoulder and pulled you into position. As lightning cracked, and rain began to hit the ground, a sharpness thrust down against your neck. You groaned from the pain, a smaller whimper vibrating deep from your chest. It knew you were partially awake, and lulled you into this even more vulnerable state in order to keep you docile.

After the initial pierce, the blood from your veins left sweet and slow. It was like it was torturing you, knowing that something inside you sang pleasure. One you were not intended, nor supposed to feel. Yet the touch of the hand on your shoulder, the depth of teeth against your neck and lightheadedness had brought fluster. A guilty smile perked from the corners of your lips. It did not mean fear was gone.

This was when the creature allowed you more movement. Your eyes opened slightly, and before you was a gorgeous and faded face. Blood dripped from those handsome lips, your own delicious essence on the mouth of a man you found to be enthralling. He’d found you to be a treat— a special gem to quench the thirst parching his throat. What a bountiful wine press to the monster. Perhaps this is why you’d been feeling so tired, where the mysterious wounds had come from.

You tilted your head willfully. So you’d have what you want. It was his want to drink of you, and yours to taste yourself upon your own tongue. You took your hand and drug it across the stunned face of the monster, who was used to disgust and fear. Both reactions were arousing. With this hungry hand you took him by the chin and kissed him with fervid intensity, not allowing his lips to leave yours before you were satisfied. A confusing mixture of warm iron and startling coldness greeted your mouth, his lips moving with yours aggressively.

When you pulled back, his eyes narrowed from a pleasured delight, a smile of reddened lips crinkling the corners. You willed his hands to dance across your body and so they did, where he pulled you into a dark embrace and lifted you a slight. The storm had calmed with the beast’s hunger. From this position which he continued to take your blood, and you saw the moon’s voluptuous shape enchanting the skies and stars, and gazed as the stormy clouds slowly ate it up.

#⚰️ coffin dreams #vampires #vampire #vampire f/o #vampire fictional other #nonhuman f/o #imagines #vampire imagine #vampire imagines #vampire x reader #self shipping #self ship #f/o community #self ship community #f/o #shipping #fictional other #selfship

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skzhocomments · 5 months

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THE WHITE LILY (Mafia Book #1 - Bang Chan) - Chapter 5 - An eye for an eye

Story masterlist - please consult it for the summary of the story, trigger warnings etc.

General masterlist

Chapter 4 | Chapter 6

Let me know if you'd like to be on the taglist for this story!

---

Chapter 5 - An eye for an eye

chapter word count: 1.1k words

"What the fuck is this?" the man screamed, while the tied girls on the floor let out muffled gasps.

The sound of the door opening forcefully could be heard loudly, but no one was able to see anything.

I started coughing up again when that bastard's grip was completely gone from my neck and air was suddenly getting into my lungs. However, my head was still feeling light and my whole body felt weak.

Was it the liquid he forced me to swallow? I wondered, and managed to turn myself on my left side, trying not to choke on my own blood.

"It's Dark in here!" a loud, familiar voice shouted, bringing a slight smile to my face.

A small pat on my back followed soon after, giving me all the reassurance I needed. I was not abandoned. They came, just as they promised they will.

I didn't get the chance to find out who patted my back that night. The lightness in my head was getting too strong, and I passed out just seconds after feeling relief that I was no longer alone.

"Argh. Turn off that light, would you?" I grunted as soon as I woke up between the four walls of the room that became my new home barely a week ago.

"Hello to you too, Shade. Feeling good?"

"No, Sky. If you're really curious, my head is fucking killing me. And I'm called Shade for a reason. So please draw the curtains and bring some shade back, will you?"

"No. Light is way better for you right now. Besides, look at the Sky for once."

"Ha-ha, very funny."

"I'm glad you're awake though, everyone was starting to get worried. Especially Jeongin and Chris. And by the way, you look like shit. That guy really did a number on you, huh?" He chuckled and handed me a mirror, letting me examine the dark marks on my face and neck.

"Yea, seems like I really got a good beating."

"Disadvantages of speaking with no filter."

"You should know."

"Touché." He smiled and grabbed the mirror from my hands, giving me a glass of water and a small pill instead.

"Jeongin said to give this to you. For your headache, so you won't be a headache to the rest of us later."

"Thanks." I drank the medicine and handed Seungmin the empty glass.

"You should thank him personally. He was really distraught when he saw the state you were in. The fact that you slept for 5 full days didn't help too much either."

"Wait, I WHAT?" I asked, trying to stand up from the bed quickly, only to fall back down due to the immense pain in my temples.

"Wowowwo- Take it easy. I'll go let everyone know you woke up. Maybe take a shower and brush your teeth in the meantime, you stink."

"Fuck you."

"No thanks. I'm off!" Seungmin waved and left the room.

I went to the dresser and examined myself once again in the big mirror. The bruises were looking even worse under artificial lighting. However, everything looked very well taken care of. My busted lip wore a small plaster that seemed carefully placed on; there was no blood on me; my arm, that I don't even know when or how I managed to hurt, was bandaged with the same care as my lip.

Seeing how good Jeongin took care of me made my heart sink and made tears slowly form into the corners of my eyes.

Just like San used to do. I thought, but quickly hopped in the shower and brushed the thought aside.

After showering, I slowly got dressed. My whole body was aching, but thankfully the pain in my temples stopped.

Thanks for the happy pill, Jeongin.

Walking back into the room, I was greeted by someone I didn't expect to see yet standing on my bed.

"Chris." Was all I could say before he got up and ran to me, taking me into a strong embrace.

He let go of me and looked at the bruises, brushing his fingers on each of them.

"fucking bastard" he muttered under his breath and caressed my face. "But don't worry, baby, I made him pay for daring to lay his fingers on you. In fact, I made sure to break each and every one of his fingers, one by one, for each small bruise you had. I counted them with Jeongin."

"He did great..." I pointed to the carefully bandaged arm.

"Mhm, he did. He's a very good doctor."

"So... what else happened to the guy?"

"Oh, yea. I... personally thanked him for bringing you to this state. I stumped on his arms, his legs, and I finally pulled a bullet through his head yesterday morning when I saw how pathetic he was begging me to let him die." He said with a dark smile. "And after he gave us all information we needed, of course."

Right, he's a mafia boss. I almost forgot that for a second.

"And the girls...?"

"They're safe now. These past few days you were asleep we managed to eradicate the whole Knife Devils. Might still be a few bastards hanging on, but we'll catch them in no time."

"Mhm." I nodded.

"Now to the more important things: how are you feeling?"

Chan closed the distance between us and pulled me in for a kiss, making my knees grow weak again.

"I thought we'd lose you for a second." He said in a low voice.

"But you didn't. I'm here."

"The bastard gave you some sort of drug – Jeongin was glad he found the flask on him, he managed to find a counter for the poison. But you still weren't waking up."

"Thank you for coming for me. I thought you'd left me there for a second." I confessed.

"I will never leave you." He said sternly, before kissing me again.

I gave into him completely, letting him explore my mouth with his tongue, feeling the ecstasy each of his kisses were bringing me.

~Present Day~

Looking back on it, I should've noticed that I was falling way too fast, way too hard, and that this strong urge to have him flushed over me like a tsunami would only drown me. I wanted more.

I should've known then how dangerous that was. I was oblivious that his kisses were poison. How couldn't I notice just by the euphoria they made me feel?

I should've known it was too good to be true.

But the sad thing is, even if I knew, it probably wouldn't have mattered. As long as it was him, I would've been happy to stay oblivious. I would've gladly drunk any poison.

I should've known then that he wouldn't do the same for me.

It was not poison that I was tasting on his kisses, but heartbreak.

I should've wanted less.

---

Chapter 4 | Chapter 6

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argiopi · 3 years

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on the backs of your mothers

#I met a mother wolf spider! With all her little children on her back!#Wolf spiders are so gorgeous their smooth tapered legs made me think of them as octopus spiders when I was a kid #picked her up & set her outside bc we're not supposed to have pests in the lab. buddy was trying to break into the chemicals cabinet.#she was so docile.. just let me scoop her up and didn't even run I wonder if carrying babies made her sluggish.#wow the love I felt for that little family. highlight of that week.#anyway it made me think of if hornet liked to ride on her moms #also I drew this during a 5 hour bus trip. enjoy the lines that look seismograph-esque #adapting and overcoming i'm laughing my ass off #no pen pressure -> okay i'll draw in MS paint.#no tablet drivers -> okay i'll draw on paper.#what's next; dear world? I've bested your challenges!#yeah i've not had the means to properly fix my computer but who says you can't run with a shoddy solution for a while #colored with old highlighters I found in my backpack but they were all dried so I used the colors as different values according to wetness #and converted to grayscale then hue-corrected in post. limited touchup by mouse because fuck that #ADAPT. OVERCOME. you all would love to see the raw photo it's mostly green and orange it looks strange #could barely see what I was doing either; the air went dark with a curtain of thick rain and then the sun set #vespa is so HUGE... she'd be bigger than the white lady if it weren't for WL's far-reaching roots. but her main body is much larger.#I imagine she's saying 'aren't you a bit old for that?'#posting traditional art feels weirdly exposed. like my hand made that!#hollow knight #hornet #herrah #white lady #vespa #sketchbook #my art #comic #<- in the vaguest sense of sequential art

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wheelsup · 3 years

Note

okay but can you imagine spencer washing your hair for you?

like, i never (ever) let anyone (at all) touch my hair, but i feel like he'd be really gentle about it, and there is just something so soft and tender to me about the idea of washing someone's hair for them 🥺

that’s my dream <3 ik you didnt specifically ask for a blurb but i think about this very often. i wrote two versions of this, but this one (with two bickering best friends who are v much in love) won my heart.

wc: 1.6k contains: friends (to crushes, maybe ;) ), injured reader. gn!reader

“Spence, I promise you that I can do it by myself,” you huffed, attempting to yank off your tank top as you walked toward the hotel bathroom, using only one arm while trying to keep the other as still as possible.

“I’d be more inclined to believe you if you didn’t sound like you were going to cry,” he snickered, following hot on your trail as you tried to escape his hovering.

“You’re being dramatic.”

“Oh really? Lift your arm up, then.” He leaned his hip against the marble counter, crossing his arms over his chest as he waited for you to do it. One obnoxiously smug eyebrow arched on his forehead.

Sometime during the case, you’d gotten into a brief tousle with a suspect, who just had to run away when approached. If Morgan had been there, you wouldn’t have even batted a lash, but he wasn’t. So not only had you detained him by yourself, you also wound up with a minor pulled muscle in your shoulder.

You shot him a sarcastic smile, toothless and irritated, and raised your right arm into the air. He let out an airy scoff.

“Other one, smart ass.”

Your arm dropped down to your side, your smile falling with it as you turned sharply towards the shower.

“Look, I’m disgusting right now. So either I suck it up and shower, or you’re going to smell me until the day we solve this case.”

Spencer’s nose crinkled at the gross truth. He wasn’t ungentlemanly enough to tell you, but sharing a bed with a coworker was quite a quick way to discover if they were in need of a shower or not. Your shoulder might be out of service, but both of you could agree that hygiene was a bigger priority.

“You can’t even move. Just… just let me help you.”

You snorted. “Nice try, Reid. I’m not letting you shower with me.”

He rolled his eyes at your use of his last name. You only called him that when you were annoyed with him. He pushed off the counter and turned to the wall, hitting the light switch and earning a shriek from you as the room suddenly went dark.

“I won’t look,” he shrugged, amusing no one but himself.

“You’re a clown, you know that?” you muttered under your breath, drawing back the shower curtain and fumbling around, searching for the knobs in pitch black. “Absolutely fucking theatrical.”

You found them moments later and ran the water, testing the temperature on the back of your hand. By the time it went from cold to warm, you noticed that he still hadn’t moved. From the sliver of light peeking under the door, you could make out just his silhouette in the corner, perched on the vanity.

He was being stubborn about this. That, and the comforting fact that you couldn’t see a single thing –– thankfully, not even his face –– wore you down.

“Close your eyes,” you murmured.

“It’s already pitch black in here ––”

“Close your eyes, Reid.”

Sighing through his nose, he did just that. To make sure you knew it, and also maybe just to be annoying, he made a show of getting off the counter and turning himself around to face the wall. You peeled out of your clothes as quickly as you could. In the process, you caught the long shower curtain under the heel of your foot and, as you stumbled over it, accidentally dragged it along, sending the metal curtain hooks screeching as they slid along the bar.

The second you found your ground, you immediately shot daggers into the back of Spencer’s head, waiting for him to make a joke. As if he could feel them, he bit back his quip. Not without letting a barely contained cackle slip under his breath.

“Okay,” you warned, stepping into the shower. Grabbing the end of the shower curtain, you pulled it tightly over your body to cover yourself as you poked your chin out to talk to him. “I’m in.”

Spencer turned and approached the shower, eyes still shut with his hands out in front of him, feeling the walls for guidance. He was still mocking you for making him close his eyes. You raised your brows; he must’ve thought he was quite funny.

“You look like Velma when she loses her glasses.”

That knocked the funny bone right out of him. His hands dropped to his sides.

“Just get your hair wet and hand me the shampoo.”

You drew the curtain shut again as you dipped your head under the shower stream, coming back moments later with sopping wet hair and a little bottle of complimentary hotel shampoo.

He let you sit on the floor of the bathtub, just slightly removed from the spray of the water. Your back was to him, as he kneeled down on the tile floor, just outside of the bathtub so he didn’t have to get wet. You bent your knees to your chest, resting your chin on them.

Spencer first pushed up the sleeves of his sweater as far as he could before deciding to remove it altogether for the sake of protecting the wool against stray water. The cuffs of his work shirt were unbuttoned and rolled up to his elbows as he got to work.

Taking a healthy quarter-sized amount of shampoo into his palm, he lathered it between his hands before running soapy fingers through your scalp. The pads of his fingertips softly dug in as he carefully massaged the shampoo in.

When he started working his fingers in patterns, putting pressure near your temples and increasing it as he dragged them up the curve of your scalp, you let your eyes close. He was getting rid of a headache you didn’t even realize you had.

The tension you’d been carrying in your shoulders eased a little, and it made him think about how much you probably needed this. One of his hands came down to massage the muscle between your neck and your good shoulder, knowing it was best to just let the hot water do its magic on the bad one.

When the shampoo had been sufficiently lathered, he stood up and detached the shower head, bringing it down to you so you didn’t have to move. You leaned your head back for him as he carefully rinsed the soap out.

You weren’t going to ask, but thank God Spencer told you to hand him the conditioner next. This, he slathered all over the ends of your hair, making sure all of it was sufficiently covered in conditioner before loosely twisting it into a low, makeshift pony for you.

“Mm. I was about to ask how you’re so good at haircare,” you chuckled lowly to yourself, in a half-sleepy voice with your forehead resting on your knees. Dangerously close to falling asleep. “Then I remembered what you used to look like.”

You had a lazy smile on your face just thinking about the days where Spencer’s hair used to be down to his shoulders. He looked so pretty like that (not that he didn’t look pretty now, too), you always wondered why he got rid of it.

“Remember when I got shot in the knee?” he hummed, returning to work your shoulder. He adorned a tiny smile of his own as he started to reminisce. “You came by my house at least once a week. Brought me meals, watched movies with me. Helped distract me from the pain. Even drove me to my physical therapy appointments.”

You mm-hmm’d that you remembered.

“You pretty much did everything shy of helping me bathe. Though, I feel like you would’ve helped with that, too, if I asked.”

You both laughed at that. You hadn’t really noticed the parallels of your situation, being injured and needing his help for once. He was happy to repay the favor.

“I’ll, uh. Let you wash your body yourself,” he said, coming out of his daydream for a moment. He rinsed his hands off and got up, patting down his wet hands on his trousers. With one nod from you to confirm that you’d be able to do it, he quickly exited the bathroom to give you privacy.

You emerged seventeen minutes later, clad in pajamas with towel-dried hair. Spencer was still awake as you crawled onto the bed beside him, more than ready for bed after that. He looked to the side to ask you how the rest of your shower was, and before he could get it out, you shuffled up next to him, winding one arm around his and resting your head on his chest.

“I take it you had a good shower?” he laughed. This was one of his “I told you so” moments, and for once, you didn’t mind it.

“Mhm,” you smiled, chuckling behind it as you shut your eyes. You were falling asleep fast. “Spence, the scalp massage…”

“Was good, right?” he boasted, inflating his own ego a bit.

You nodded against his shoulder, not caring if you helped blow up his ego another two sizes. Burrowing deeper into the covers, nestling tighter against Spencer, you got one more quip in before falling asleep. “S’good that I think I have a crush on you now.”

Joke or not, he pulled the blanket higher until it reached your chin, holding you with both arms and kissing the top of your head before falling asleep himself.

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new tags not working: @chelsea-the-enchanted @craybae1116 @writingintheroses (rose i know u changed ur url but atm i have NO idea to what lol)

plus: @pissbit @redevil590 @kaz-2y567 @datsimplol @reid-to-me @rem-ariiana @thegirlinthedresscriedalltheway @jaddi-e @just_arandomwriter @spencerswildestdreams1 @sskylarpaige26 @zbgubler @nyasiablack1899 @faithsamantha @chrisdylan17 @just_arandomwriter @peterisbetterthanpietro @thegirlinthedresscriedalltheway @jaddi-e @chloehanson

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic #spencer reid blurb #criminal minds fic #b a queue

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logmosswrites · 3 years

Text

That Hum of Night

Fandom: Overwatch

Pairing: Hanzo Shimada x fem!reader x Jesse McCree

Words: 4k

Warning: NSFW! 18+ only. Definitely PWP, wet dreams, BDSM dynamics, Dom Hanzo and Jesse, Sub reader, dirty talk, humiliation/degredation (verbal and otherwise), praise kink, nipple play, dry humping, rope bondage, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, orgasm delay/denial, vibrator use, unsafe sex, creampie, oral sex/cunnilingus, come marking, aftercare. No y/n.

Author's note: cross posted to AO3.

There was nothing but heat. No up, no down, no world at all outside of the bodies pressed against yours. Your legs parted to make room for them, urging them closer still with every whimper and moan rolling off of your lips. You were hopelessly desperate, open and dripping for anything that would fill you. Fingers lazily fucked you open, joining a writhing tongue inside of your pussy. Hanzo and Jesse were everywhere all at once, sating your hunger as quickly as it appeared. Their mouths claimed every inch of skin they could find, the hot flash of teeth and tongue on your neck leaving you to gasp for air. You thrust your hips forward, shame long abandoned to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body. Please, you begged, just at the precipice of orgasm. Suddenly, deft fingers latched onto your aching clit, hard and punishing; you rocked with them, winding tighter and tighter until-

You woke up.

Slowly, the world came back to you, trickling in like a leaking faucet. Your mouth was dry; your heart pounded in your ears. You felt overheated, damp with sweat where you were sandwiched between Jesse and Hanzo- oh shit, Jesse and Hanzo .

“Sweetheart?”

And there was Jesse.

He was leaning over you, lit up by the moonlight filtering in through the curtains. Bracing yourself, you looked into his eyes, surprised to find concern instead of the amusement you expected.

“Are you alright, darlin’? It looked like you were having a pretty intense nightmare, there.”

Wait- nightmare?

“You nearly pushed me off of the bed,” interjected Hanzo from behind you, voice betraying his worry. It was only then that you noticed the rumpled blankets, piled up where you had tried to kick them off. Shit.

In response, you simply rolled over and tucked your flaming face into Jesse’s chest, unwilling to correct their conclusion. Jesse allowed this for a moment, but soon took your chin in hand, forcing you to look at him. “Hey, now, you don’t have to hide from me–from us. There’s no shame in bein’ a little shook up by a bad dream, sweetheart. Hell, even I get scared by what my brain decides to cook up sometimes,” the man said, sealing his words with a kiss to your forehead. You felt a tiny bit of guilt gnaw at you as he settled back down onto his side, bleary eyes watching yours for any sign of distress. But it wasn’t really lying, right? How would they ever even find out?

“Come here,” said Hanzo, snaking his arm around your waist. You went freely, fighting a shiver as you felt his familiar body conform to yours. “You are safe, my love,” he whispered, “in this bed, you are safe.” With that, your boyfriend pressed his lips to your neck, ghosting over it as he had in your fantasy. Your body reacted accordingly, hips rolling forward and a gasp hitching in your chest. You slapped a hand over your mouth, but it was too late; the room was fraught with tension, none of you daring to even breathe. Well, fuck.

“Sweetheart-”

“I-”

Silence once again.

“Do you need us to sleep somewhere else, darlin’? It’s alright if-”

“No!” you exclaimed, eyes wide. Jesse searched your face for the truth, scrutinizing your awkward expression. You avoided meeting his eyes, shifting under the weight of Hanzo’s arm. Slowly, the cowboy seemed to put two and two together, lips pulling together into a dimpled smirk.

“Hanzo, I don’t think our baby girl had a nightmare."

Kill me, kill me, kill me, you chanted inside of your head, feeling Hanzo’s grip tighten as he caught up to the idea. For a split second, you considered actually lying, dismissing it just as quickly when you saw Jesse's smirk turn devilish.

"Is that true, beloved?” Hanzo asked, breath warm on your ear, “Are you trying to hide something from us?”

This time, you couldn’t suppress your shiver. Damn, Hanzo and Jesse knew just how to play you.

“You naughty little slut,” admonished Jesse, “Let’s see how wet you are under those panties of yours.” Lightning-quick, the man reached under the covers, hooking his fingers into the offending piece of fabric. Viciously, he tore them down, yanking your knees forward in order to get them all the way off. Your breath caught in your throat as he brought your panties into the hazy light of the bedroom, showing off the soaked inner lining.

“Well, would ya look at that? Our baby girl made a mess of herself, Hanzo. What should we do about this?”

Holy shit, you were going to die, right here in this bed.

“I think,” spoke Hanzo, voice gravelly, “that we should make her clean it up.”

And fuck, if that didn’t make you even wetter. Jesse considered you for a moment, eyes gaining a ferocious gleam as he noticed your quickly-growing arousal. Without preamble, he pushed your underwear into your mouth, wrapping them around two of his thick fingers. Instantly, you began to suck, tongue working around the cloth. Jesse pushed deeper and deeper in response, nearly activating your gag reflex. As it was, your eyes swam with tears, barely able to make out your boyfriend’s face turning deathly serious as he concentrated on you. Hanzo, unwilling to be left out, began to knead his hands into your flesh, pulling your sleep shirt up in order to play with your quickly hardening nipples. His scorching-hot mouth then sank onto your skin once more, lavishing your neck with kisses. You could hardly think, hardly breathe. Desperate sounds came from deep in your chest, muffled by Jesse’s unrelenting fingers.

Minutes, or maybe hours, flew by before your panties were taken from your mouth. You drew in a greedy breath, panting from sheer desire. God, how much more could you take? You were positively soaked at this point, aching with a need for friction. You knew better than to try and seek your own release, yet you still gasped when Hanzo snatched your hands away from your throbbing clit, reprimanding you with a harsh bite to the shoulder. A hoarse cry tore from your throat, reverberating loudly in the dark bedroom.

“You,” drawled Jesse, “have been a bad, bad girl, princess. First, you made a fucking mess of your panties, which you tried to hide from us. Then, you went and played with your tight little pussy even when you know you’re not allowed to. I think you’ve earned yourself a punishment, slut.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck , that could mean anything. Punishments from Hanzo and Jesse were rare, but you knew you were in deep, deep shit regardless. And if his predatory grin was any indication, Jesse knew exactly what you were thinking.

“Hanzo, put her on her back. I want her begging by the time I’ve finished tying her up.”

With that, your world was disoriented, your view changing to that of Hanzo’s face right above yours. You felt more than saw Jesse getting off of the bed, quickly distracted by your other lover smothering you with a savage kiss. You did your best to reciprocate, but you were no match for Hanzo’s overwhelming influence. You could feel his hard cock pressing into your thigh where he straddled you, covered only by his cotton briefs. Before you could even think about moving your hands towards it, though, they were captured once more and pressed up above your head; holy shit, Hanzo moved fast.

“What a little whore,” Hanzo spoke, finally allowing you to draw in a breath, “So desperate for cock, you poor thing. How did you ever survive before we came along?”

Jesus Christ.

Hanzo, satisfied by your stunned silence, turned back to the task at hand, finally tearing off your shirt and sucking hickeys onto your bare chest. His goatee was coarse against your feverish skin as you rose up to meet him, writhing beneath his iron grip. You threw your head back, only opening your eyes when you felt Jesse grabbing your now-unoccupied wrist. In his other hand you saw a length of red rope, a frequent addition to your bedroom activities.

“Color?” Jessie asked, momentarily abandoning his dominating façade. Hanzo paused as well, considering you like he might consider his bow; serious and straightforward. You sucked in a deep breath, stomach swooping in anticipation when you croaked out a confident “green”.

With that, you were pulled back into Hanzo’s blazing inferno, hands and teeth and tongue setting your skin aflame. As Jesse maneuvered your wrist into a complicated cuff pattern, Hanzo took hold of your nipples once more, rolling one between his fingers as the other was caught between his teeth. Christ above, it was like someone had injected fire straight into your veins.

“You likin’ that, baby girl?” Came Jesse’s voice, off to the other side now and distinctly smug. You sent him a glare, tempered by the heady sensation of satiny rope being pulled against your sensitive skin. Jesse merely winked back, his roguish attitude written all over his relaxed-yet-confident posture. With one final flourish of the cowboy’s fingers, your hands were firmly tied to the headboard, spreading out to either side of you in a comfortable stretch of your shoulders. Before you could get too settled, however, Hanzo was moving his rough, calloused hands towards your hips–with a jerk, you were pulled flush against him, his erection just barely grazing your sex. Two forearms planted themselves next to your head, decisively caging you in.

“Jesse, tie her up like this. I want to make sure we have plenty of room to fuck her without restraint.”

God. You couldn’t believe Hanzo’s mouth.

“You got it, boss,” Jesse replied easily, taking your ankle in his hand. Heat curled low in your gut as your legs were spread wide by the cowboy’s unyielding grip, exposing you to Hanzo’s hungry gaze. The heat multiplied as Hanzo adjusted his hips, your own twitching up to meet him halfway. Yes, yes, yes, you thought, nearly salivating in anticipation. Slowly, ever so slowly, the archer began to roll his pelvis against yours, finally giving you the friction you had been craving. It was heaven; it was perfect. Hanzo steadily began to increase his rhythm, grunts of pleasure growing louder and louder along with your punched-out gasps. The man loved to do this with you, spending hours grinding on you as you cuddled to watch a movie or even as you were falling asleep in his arms.

“That’s it, beloved. Can you feel my cock? Do you want it?” Frantically, you nodded, head swimming in a slurry of arousal and desperation. “Then beg for it, you whore.”

Fuck. You could barely think a coherent word, much less say them–but you tried anyway, panting a quiet oh and yes and please as sweetly as you could. The archer only gave a noncommittal sigh in response, clearly unimpressed by your performance.

“How disappointing, Jesse; it sounds as though our little whore doesn’t want to be fucked after all,” came Hanzo's patronizing voice, sinking low in your stomach–the man never made empty threats, especially in the bedroom. A teasing slip of Jesse’s hand set you to begging, words tumbling past your lips before you could even process them. “God, please, please, Hanzo, fuck, Jesse, please, fuck me!” you cried, pleading your case in a way that could make a porn star blush. After a moment of stunned silence, all three of you came back to your senses.

“Fuck,” Jesse snarled, chest heaving. “Fuck.”

In a flurry of motion, he was tying you off, finishing the cuff on your other ankle; then he was diving towards you, capturing your mouth with his in an animalistic mix of lips and teeth. Small, possessive noises issued from the cowboy’s throat, buzzing on your tongue like the bubbles of a sweet champagne. A scorching hand burned down the lines of your body, setting your newly-formed bruises alight with sensation. You shivered in anticipation–you wanted, needed Jesse and Hanzo inside of you now.

All thinking stopped, however, when deft fingers finally reached your oversensitive clit; you jackknifed upwards, breaking your kiss with Jesse. Your hips bucked under Hanzo’s weight as you gulped in air, starving for oxygen and touch in equal measure.

“That’s it, slut,” Jesse said, voice rigid. His eyes were positively wild, stormy with need from where he was hovering over you. A glance at Hanzo’s face revealed much of the same. You imagined that this is what it must feel like to be a ship in a storm, to be something so small in comparison to nature’s unparalleled power. You opened your mouth in silent prayer as Jesse’s fingers laved over your sopping cunt, dragging them over your lips like the pages of a book. Without warning, he slipped two thick fingers inside of you, stretching you open while working his thumb in small circles over your clit. Oh, God. Your dream couldn’t even begin to compare to the actual feeling of Jesse’s hand, moving in and out with enough force to rock your whole body. Lewd noises filled your ears, setting off yet another round of sparks fizzling through you. A familiar surge of pleasure began to crescendo in the pit of your stomach, drawing out more breathless whimpers from somewhere high in your throat. However, just before you could reach your orgasm, Jesse’s thumb slipped from your throbbing clit, leaving you to clench around his fingers to no avail. Fuck, fuck, no! Just a little more...

Your eyes opened to meet Jesse’s face, finding that his impish smirk had slipped back on.

“Awww, darlin’, ya look so sad,” the man teased, crooking his fingers just to make you whine. “Don’t worry though, we’re just getting started…”

Equal measures of excitement and dread shot through you at his words. Hanzo and Jesse, while loving boyfriends, knew exactly how to push every single one of your buttons; in short, they could be assholes. Beautiful, sexy, lovable assholes. Paying your trepidation no heed, Jesse withdrew his hand from your hole, leaving you empty and shivering. Jesus, you were a mess.

“Wanna taste?” Jesse asked–but he wasn’t talking to you. No, he was offering his hand to Hanzo, who regarded the cowboy with relentless heat in his gaze. A silent something passed between them, before Hanzo was leaning in and taking the slick digits in his mouth, staring into Jesse’s eyes the entire time.

“Good, right?” Jesse said, voice gravelly once more. Hanzo simply hummed in response, before withdrawing once again. Another tense moment slipped by, in which it got harder and harder to remember how to breathe. Jesse’s eyes flicked downwards, then back up to Hanzo, seeming to ask a question; nearly imperceptibly, the archer nodded, drawing in a short breath when Jesse’s hand moved down to grasp the hem of his underwear. You bit your lip as Hanzo’s cock was revealed, red and leaking at the tip. With just a touch of Jesse’s fingers, precum was dripping onto your stomach, increasing your own arousal tenfold. Leisurely, the cowboy began to jerk Hanzo off, grip loose and taunting.

“Look at our girl, Hanzo,” Jesse commanded, swiping his thumb over the other man’s cockhead. “Look at how fuckin’ desperate she is for you”.

Hanzo’s eyes snapped to yours, and you felt the full weight of his attention crash down on you– fuck, he looked feral, lips pressed in a snarl and dark hair falling just past his chin. You couldn’t help but look away, feeling suffocated by Hanzo’s gaze; however, a metallic hand grasped your cheeks, wrenching your head back to look at your powerful lovers above you.

“Eyes up here, slut,” Jesse reprimanded, “I want you to watch him as he ruins that pussy of yours, understood?” You nodded. “Good. And don’t you fuckin’ dare cum before I tell you to, or else I’ll edge you for a week straight, got it?” Another nod, and he finally relinquished his hold on you, leaving a dull pain that you hoped would flower into bruises.

As you were told, you kept your eyes trained on Hanzo’s face, watching his eyes flutter as his cock was guided to your entrance. Once, twice, he slipped out, before he was slowly pushing in, inch by inch. God, he filled you perfectly. Finally, as Hanzo sank completely into you, Jesse relinquished his hold, stepping away to admire how the archer curved around you like a great beast getting ready to devour a meal. Arms shaking, Hanzo fell onto his elbows for support, hot breath sweeping over your face. He was close enough now that you could see beads of sweat beginning to form on his brow. You were the only one who got to see Hanzo like this, aside from Jesse–it was a fact that never seemed to get old, no matter how many times you had joined him in bed. Equally as tantalizing was the slide of his cock inside of you, beginning to move in short, calculated thrusts. Instinctively, you clenched down, earning a warning glare from Hanzo–but you were already in trouble, weren’t you? What would be the harm in doing a little teasing of your own?

Staring Hanzo in the eye, you purposely flexed your muscles once more, feeling a hot rush of slick slowly drip out of you. In a momentary lapse of control, Hanzo buried his head into your shoulder, letting out a strangled moan. You couldn’t keep from responding with a shit-eating grin, putting Jesse’s own signature smirk to shame. However, your expression dropped as you caught Hanzo’s thunderous face, towering over you as he rose back onto his hands and knees.

Oh, shit.

“You. Worthless. Whore. ” the man hissed, jaw clenched, “It seems as though you need to be reminded of your place.”

With surgical precision, Hanzo bottomed out inside of you, pausing for just a moment before retreating once again. Another thrust, and it was clear that your self-control would be pushed to the limit; already, you were falling apart, legs shaking from the sheer effort it took to hold back your orgasm. But Hanzo took no mercy on you, setting a steady rhythm that had you moaning helplessly. Fuck, this was getting difficult-

“Jesse, bring me the vibrator.”

God fucking dammit, you thought, your stomach dropping. Without so much as a stutter in his hips, Hanzo took the wand from Jesse’s outstretched hand, watching you intently as he nestled it right next to your clitoris. Your eyes flickered between the two sights, drinking in the sheer power your lover held over you. Then, with a click of a button, you were straining upwards, feeling as though you were being wrenched straight out of your body. Another click, and the vibrations grew even more intense; you longed to bury your hand in Hanzo’s hair, to scratch your nails across his muscled back, to do anything but sit there and take it. Each breath you drew in was cut off by the next, a staccato beat matching the rhythm of your racing pulse. You were close, so close that you could taste it on your tongue– shit!

“Did you really think I would let you cum, slut?” Hanzo asked, still thrusting in and out of your hole without care. Your whole body shuddered helplessly, hypersensitive after being denied once again. As you attempted to catch your breath, Hanzo reached down and twisted your swollen nipple, forcing you to lock eyes with him.

“I asked you a question, whore; answer me,” the archer commanded, practically growling, “Do you think you deserve to cum on my cock?” As if to punctuate his question, Hanzo slammed his hips forward, fucking you hard enough to pull against the ties at your ankles.

“Fuck! No!” you screamed, on the verge of tears. Your voice was wrecked with desperation, hoping beyond hope that the teasing would be over soon. However, you were soon at the mercy of the vibrator once again, letting out a whine at the feeling of it on your tortured clit. Hanzo sped up his pace, sitting up on his knees to watch every inch of your thoroughly marked body writhe underneath him. “That is right, you cumwhore. You do not deserve the honor of an orgasm at my hand. You are lucky that I am willing to fuck you in the first place.”

The vibrator was shut off once more, and you humped against it frantically, reserve long abandoned. “Go ahead, you stupid whore,” Hanzo encouraged, “Humiliate yourself. I want to see how pathetic you look when you cry.” A sob flew from your lips as the toy buzzed to life, only to be shut off seconds later, then turned on again, a sadistic pattern that made your hips jump and stutter on Hanzo’s cock. You could feel the archer’s perfect rhythm begin to falter, signaling his quickly-approaching climax; his moans burned hot on your skin, sending wave after wave of throbbing pleasure through your trembling body. Finally, you felt Hanzo seize up, almost uncannily still in the wake of his orgasm. Scorching cum flooded your hole, arousing enough to make your battered walls flutter with desire. A few heartbeats later, and Hanzo was crashing back down over you, gulping in air like a dying man. Tenderly, he pressed his sweaty forehead against yours, love and awe written in his furrowed brows and slackened mouth. As he breathed against you, you could feel your own hitching breaths slow, agonising desire fading just slightly into a dull roar.

Two pairs of hands whispered over your body, freeing your limbs from their confines, massaging the marks imprinted upon you by the ropes. You felt yourself float away just a little, untethered by chaste kisses pressed to your cheeks and soft hands stroking your thighs. Hanzo’s shifting body weight brought you back to the present, where Jesse was taking his place between your legs; Hanzo unceremoniously flopped to the side, grace all but forgotten in his post-orgasm haze. Your eyes opened slowly to see Jesse looking down at you, positively fit to burst with quiet affection. You smiled back, tensed and eager all the same.

"Ya did so good, darlin'," Jesse said, tone far softer now, "So good for us. Are ya ready for your reward?"

The praise melted into your skin, smoothing the raw edges that had been so expertly laid bare by Hanzo. With a simple nod, Jesse leaned in to kiss you once more, as slow and saccharine as honey. You embraced him in return, palms gliding over the coarse and ruddy plains of his cheeks; you felt like you were glowing from the inside out. Like a wave drawing across the sand, Jesse retreated, hands whispering down to your thighs. The rest of his body followed close behind, settling down between your legs with practiced ease.

"So beautiful, sweetheart," Jesse praised, "I can't wait to make you cum."

And there it was again, the knife's edge of hot desire. Almost subconsciously, you weaved your hands through Jesse's locks, giving them a tug. Jesse groaned deep in his chest, rekindling the flames in your gut. Your cowboy was so responsive. You pulled his hair again, set alight as Jesse muffled his moans into your sweat-soaked thigh.

“You’re gonna kill me, darlin’,” Jesse threatened, kissing his way towards your drenched pussy. A witty retort died in your throat as his tongue flattened against your swollen lips, lapping at the obscene mixture of cum and slick slowly dripping out of you. “Fuck,” you breathed, struck senseless by the hot-wet pleasure of Jesse’s plush mouth. An answering groan rang in your ears as the cowboy finally dipped his writhing tongue into your hole, drinking in the lewd slurry with feverish dedication. Your hands tightened into fists, pulling Jesse further and further in until his nose was pressed flat against your pussy. You whined; a sharpness ran through you along with pleasure, heightening each in a whirlwind of sensation.

Breathless, Jesse pulled back for a moment, sucking in air like a drowning man. In the low light, you could just make out the shine of your slick soaking the cowboy’s goatee–holy shit, that’s hot. Then, with fervor, Jesse was back to it, making you yelp as he latched onto your clit. You ground against him, his tongue sending shockwaves up and down your body; you were shaking with the oh-god-too-much of it all. Every inhale was a battle. Every movement made you see stars. Then, finally, finally, Jesse tore himself from your body, looking you in the eye as he said, “Cum for me, sweetheart."

You felt the command flow through you, breaking down walls and crashing into your nervous system. Jesse bent his head and sucked your clit hard, bringing you to the very edge once again. Mmm-hmm, mmm-hmm, he encouraged you, nearly whimpering; he was bucking his hips, and fuck, fuck, fuck, shit! You were cumming into Jesse’s mouth, vision whited out by a dazzling starburst. Your legs crashed into the cowboy’s face, pinning him to your gushing pussy as you rode out your orgasm; your whole body was spasming, uncontrollable with pleasure. Then, like a puppet cut loose, you were limp, releasing Jesse from your death grip.

The cowboy shot to his knees, ripping his boxers off as fast as possible; his flushed cock was bared, aching and practically dripping precum. "Fuck, babygirl," he moaned, hand flying, "I'm gonna-fuck, I'm gonna cum!" A final groan, and Jesse was falling off the edge with you, release streaking against your rolling abdomen--followed quickly by Jesse actually falling on top of you.

"Holy shit," you laughed, "Get the hell off of me, you jerk!" A gargled mess that might have been a "no" was your only response for a moment, before the pile of sweat and various sexual fluids that was your boyfriend rolled off of you. You couldn't help but giggle at his dramatics--god, you loved your idiots. A moment of silence permeated the room, until you yawned; oh yeah, it's like three A.M...

"If you two are done, I believe it is time for some aftercare," said Hanzo, sounding equally as tired. With his help, you got up, only to fold in half from the sore feeling radiating through your pelvis--fucking fuck, you forgot how much of a bitch this could be. Seeing your discomfort, Hanzo scooped you up, carrying you to the en-suite bathroom. You heard Jesse follow you in, fetching a second set of sheets from the linens cabinet. Carefully, you were set by the toilet, Hanzo turning to allow you some privacy. After finishing your business, you were escorted to the shower, where the archer tenderly cleaned you off. From there, things got blurry--you vaguely remembered the smell of arnica cream, the feeling of a soothing wipe on your swollen lips, strong arms carrying you to bed, and a tender kiss placed on your forehead. Then, you were off to sleep, dreamless and peaceful.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Likes are appreciated, reblogs/comments keep me writing! Let me know what you thought, your favorite passage, or even what time you're reading this at (bonus points if it's 1 A.M. or later). Toodles! ʕ•́ᴥ•̀ʔっ

#Jesse McCree #Hanzo Shimada #Jesse McCree x reader #Jesse McCree x reader smut #Hanzo Shimada x reader #Hanzo Shimada x reader smut #Jesse McCree x reader x Hanzo Shimada #mccree x reader #hanzo x reader #Smut #nsft text #nsft #fem!reader

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quindolyn · 3 years

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hi can i request the maurauders going to see the reader do a musical like heathers or mean girls and they are just confused and turned on bc they didn't expect it to be this dirty (can lead to smut or not). luv you and hope you are taking care of yourself, if not go get something to eat, drink some water, take a nap, or do somthing you enjoy. or dont not trying to be pushy :)

Creature of the Night || Poly!Marauders

Word Count: 3029 (excluding song lyrics)

A/N: I think I liked how this turned out? I didn’t make it smut but it’s certainly suggestive, I went with Rocky Horror, I know that the musicals mentioned in the request are more modern but I fucking love Rocky Horror and I think it works with the request. When I first read this request I smiled so much because I love live theater, I don’t perform as much as I used to because as I progress with my education I’m focusing more on the stuff I can use to pad my resumes for college and stuff but I still love going to see productions. One of the worst parts of the pandemic for me has been not being able to go see shows, I miss it so much.

Warnings: theatre enthusiast reader, erections, suggestive material, song lyrics, slight teasing, wearing very little clothing in front of an audience, I believe that that is it

Masterlist

500 follower celebration

antici-

The magic of the stage was second to none. Sure, Hogwarts may have had witches and wizards, subjects like Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts, and ghosts that spent their time meandering about the halls but there was always a part of you that looked forward to the summer between your years at Hogwarts. Because no matter how magical Hogwarts was, the theater always made you feel completely and utterly alive.

Every summer since the one after your first year at what all of your muggle friends thought to be a very prestigious boarding school up in Scotland, you’d taken part in your local youth theater’s productions. Your parents both being muggles thought that it would be a great way for you to be able to stay in touch with your muggle origins.

The first year you’d been far too nervous to actually audition for a role, the very thought causing bile to churn in your stomach and threaten to make you sick all over your kitchen floor when your father first pitched the idea. So instead you’d done costumes and it was the most wonderful experience of your life.

Who needed drugs when you had live theater? The hustle and bustle behind the scenes was electrifying but after two summers of costuming, of quick changes in the wings, learning how to use the ancient sewing machines they stored in the depths of the storage rooms, and pulling pieces for the actors to try on you decided that you wanted to try something more.

The moment you had stepped onto the stage it was like you’d come to life and you cursed yourself for not taking the risk earlier. You belonged on the stage, with the harsh stage lights on you and pounds of makeup plastered onto your face you could feel the magic thrumming through your veins and it was addicting.

If it was possible, you were even more excited to perform this summer, the previous school year you’d finally gotten together with your long time best friends the Marauders, turning them from friends to your boyfriends.

When your mother had sent word of the production being put on this summer you’d squealed while seated next to James and across from Remus, who had Sirius hanging off of his side. After explaining to them, mostly Sirius and James really, just what live theater was their first reaction was to ask if they could come see you perform.

“I don’t even know if I’m going to be cast,” You had explained gently, not wanting to get their hopes up in case you weren’t cast this year.

“Bull shit of course you’re going to be the cast,” Sirius had contested through a mouthful of jam and toast, waving his hand theatrically through the air, watching him that day was not the first time you’d considered how the way he acted often reminded you of an over enthusiastic theatre major.

Remus, the only one with any knowledge on muggle theatre had snorted, wrapping an arm around Sirius’ waist to pull him closer to his body, “She’s not going to be the cast Pads, she’s going to be casted,” He’d corrected gently, pressing a kiss into his long, dark tresses.

“Whatever,” The smaller boy had grumbled, taking a sip of pumpkin juice.

Which brought you to where you were right now, five minutes to curtain touching up your make up in the mirror of the shared make-up room.

“Hey (L/N),” One of your cast mates called settling into the makeup chair next to you as she plucked a tube of dark red lipstick from the small canary colored makeup bag she had previously abandoned on the counter, “Your boyfriends coming tonight?” She asked, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“Yeah, they are,” You responded, applying mascara to your lashes.

“Excited to meet them, that photo you showed us,” She smiled, fanning her face with her hand, “Smoking,” She smiled, making eye contact with you in the mirror.

Rolling your eyes you ignored her comment, “It’s five minutes to curtain, you’re just now doing your make-up?” You chuckled, noticing her black face.

“Oh, shove it,” She laughed as you pushed yourself from your chair, traipsing out of the room, giving her the middle finger on your way out.

“Break a leg!” She called after you as the door latched shut.

You weren’t usually this nervous before a performance but knowing that your three boyfriends were sitting out there somewhere in the audience had you pacing back and forth backstage wondering what they were going to think of the whole production.

“Rocky Horror?” Sirius’ confusion evident in his voice as he plopped down in his seat next to Remus, throwing his arm around the werewolf’s shoulders, drumming his fingers on his clothed shoulder hidden behind his knitted cardigan.

“Yeah,” James collapsed into his chair on the other side of Remus, tucking one leg under his body, “No clue what it’s about but I’m sure our angel will be wonderful. Can you guys see her?” He straightened himself up in his seat, craning his neck in attempts to catch a glimpse of you.

Remus being the only one with any ties to the muggle world knew a bit about the show and had to do his very best to suppress a smirk from overtaking his face as he knew exactly what he and your other two boyfriends were getting themselves into.

“Just hush up you two, the show’s gonna start any moment,” He scolded, patting his large, scarred hand on James’ thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Rem,” Sirius whined, puckering his lips and closing his eyes, signaling to his boyfriend that he wanted a kiss.

“My needy baby,” He crooned, leaning in to connect his lips with Sirius’ in a quick liplock before pulling back, allowing Sirius to drop his forehead to smear against his shoulder.

“That’s mean,” Sirius murmured discontentedly.

“Poor baby Pads,” James cooed mockingly.

“Both of you,” Remus hissed as the lights in the theatre dimmed, “The show’s about to start, be good for me and be quiet yeah?”

Their response came in their silence as the crowd started settling down and the music from the orchestra pit began a voice coming from somewhere out of sight as it was played through the speakers,

“Michael Rennie was ill

The day the earth stood still

But he told us where we stand”

Not 20 minutes into the show all three of them were as hard as rocks, James had already made Remus check the playbill for the name of the character you were playing, not being able to remember what you’d told them as all of his concentration was focused on a certain place.

Janet Weiss.

Remus couldn’t remember either, but he was almost certain that’s the name he could make out in the dark theatre, printed next to a picture of your smiling face.

When you’d stripped down to your underwear the boys could barely focus on the plot line of the show, only being able to watch the way your bare skin shone under the harsh light of the spotlights. Watching as sweat glistened on your skin, making you shine as you moved about the stage.

Enchanted by the melodic cadence of your voice they all felt a certain jealousy burning deep in the pits on their stomachs at the thought that there were dozens of other people packed into that theater, all observing you in your vulnerable state of under dress. Only they got to see you like that.

Sirius missed much of the first act glaring at members of the audience who he deemed as looking at you for too long for his liking, but if you were being honest a 4th year smiling at you in the hallway was sometimes too long for his liking.

It wasn’t like any of them had never seen you naked before, in fact they’d all seen you naked more than their fair share of times but something about you on that stage in a white bra with a matching slip was driving them all crazy.

Especially Remus, whose ultimate weakness was seeing you in anything white which was one of the reasons you’d been so excited to invite them in the first place, knowing that they would be horny messes the entire time.

On stage you did your very best not to look out into the audience looking for them, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to stop a ginormous grin from forming on your face and you couldn’t afford to break character. Not if you wanted the night to go your way.

As the opening notes to “Touch-A, Touch-A, Touch Me”, rose from the orchestra pit you had trouble stopping a small smirk from pulling at your lips as you opened them, inhaling deeply before singing the first words of the song,

“I was feeling done in, couldn't win

I'd only ever kissed before”

Despite yourself you caught a glimpse of long dark hair in the audience, quickly taking a glance at Sirius’ face, eyes glazed over in lust, legs shifting uncomfortably with his mouth hanging wide open.

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed another raven-haired boy’s mouth dropping as you shrugged off of your robe

“I thought there’s no use getting, into heavy petting

It only leads to trouble and, seat wetting

Now all I want to know, is how to go

I've tasted blood and I want more”

It was impossible to miss the way Remus’ jaw clenched as you laid your palm against Rocky’s chest, he was being played by your good friends who’d been working with the same theatre company as you since forever, he was like a brother to you. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t lay it on extra thick tonight with your boyfriends in the audience.

Tracing a dainty finger down Rocky’s chest you pushed your body against his singing out the next lyrics of the song,

“I've got an itch to scratch, I need assistance”

You turned you and your cast mate so that looking over his shoulder you were able to meet Remus’ eye, sending him a quick wink before focusing back in on Rocky.

“Toucha, toucha, toucha, touch me

I wanna be dirty

Thrill me, chill me, fulfill me

Creature of the night”

Pressing your back up against Rocky’s chest you guided his hands with yours to your breasts, squeezing them as you followed the choreography you knew by heart.

You ripped your slip from your body with the help of Rocky leaving you in only your white bra, matching panties and a pair of small heels as you paraded around stage, belting the suggestive lyrics into the theater.

“Then if anything grows, while you pose

I'll oil you up and rub you down (down, down, down)

And that’s just one small fraction, of the main attraction

You need a friendly hand, oh i need action”

You smirked, thinking about all of the action you’d be on the receiving end of later that night as you sunk to your knees in front of Rocky, your hands grasping his thighs. Deciding to tease them perhaps a little more than necessary as you went through the number, curling your leg around his and pressing your bodies together so that there was no space between your two questionably clothed bodies.

As the number was brought to a close it was impossible for you to ignore the excitement bubbling up inside of you as you continued your way through the show you kept throwing glances at your boyfriends, always finding their eyes already trained on you. More often than not, on some body part other than your face.

If your boyfriends thought that they had a bit of a problem before that song they were in a terrible predicament now.

Remus caught Sirius on multiple occasions trying to move the hand that he was holding to grope at his crotch as he tried to buck up into his boyfriend’s hand. And much to his own dismay, Remus would pull his hand away, thinking it probably wasn’t the best idea to give his boyfriend a hand job in a crowded theater. Knowing that he wouldn’t have to worry about James touching himself because he would never dream of disobeying him, Remus divided his attention between you on the stage and keeping Sirius in check.

Each of the boys were counting down the seconds until the show came to an end and they could get out of there and relieve some of their tension. As the curtains were pulled closed they all breathed a sigh of relief before they reopened, leaving all three of them bewildered and slightly annoyed, even more so when they noticed everyone around them standing as they applauded the actors.

Remus forced both of them up when you rushed to the front of the stage, curtsying as the crowd went wild, your boyfriends most notably. As you took your bow you blew a kiss to your boyfriends taking note of the uncomfortable way they all stood, trying to adjust their erections to make them less noticeable while simultaneously applauding you.

As you cleared the stage after curtain call you took your time, doddling towards the dressing rooms where you had left the clothes you’d arrived at the theater in along with a special outfit you’d brought for after the show. Usually you were one of the first actors to clear the theater after a show but tonight you took your time. Hanging up your costume with more care than anyone really should treat any garment with and certainly more than what it needed.

You smirked mischievously as you pulled the you’d brought outfit from your bag and shimmied it up your legs before slipping the delicate straps up your shoulders. You glimpsed yourself in the mirror, the red satin of the dress clinging to your curves in an attractive manner, short enough to display miles of legs and low cut enough to show off a decent amount of cleavage and perhaps a sighting of the matching red bra you were wearing beneath it.

Slinging the back of your black heels over the heel of your feet you snatched your purse from the armchair in your dressing room before striding out to go meet your boyfriends in the lobby, where you’d told them to wait for you.

Their heads all turned as they heard the clacking of your heels against the tile of the floor, “Boys,” You greeted as they unabashedly took in your new appearance.

As he most often was, Remus was the first one to collect himself, “Puppy, you were wonderful,” He praised, walking to meet you as you approached him, leaning down to smear a kiss against your cheek, “You did amazing up there, so proud of you,” He threw his arm around your waist as you walked towards Sirius and James.

“We got something for you,” He explained, his grip on your waist tightening, “Jamie give it to her, yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” The smaller boy grinned, remembering the bouquet he held cradled in his arms as he handed it over to you, “Here you go angel.”

“Thank you Jamie,” You said as you took it from him, closing your eyes as you buried your nose in the sweet smelling flora. As you opened your eyes you made eye contact with Sirius, who stood across from you, practically drooling as he took in your appearance without any shame, “They smell wonderful.”

“You okay Si?” You asked, looking up through your eyelashes, batting them innocently.

“Like you don’t know exactly what you did up there to us (Y/N/N),” Remus whispered in your ear, pressing his nose into your temple.

“You guys are the ones who wanted to come,” You lilted, rubbing one of the velvety petals between the pads of your thumb and forefinger.

“Could’ve warned us,” James mumbled, his eyes not leaving your thighs as he licked his lips, if it were anyone else you would’ve been uncomfortable but you couldn’t help but feel flattered whenever any of them ogled you.

“And what’s with the dress Pup?” Sirius nodded his head appreciatively towards your dress, obviously admiring the way it hung on your body.

“What, you don’t like it?” You asked with fake hurt in your voice, knowing that he more than liked it, he fucking loved it.

“S’not that,” Remus mumbled, nosing at your jugular, “Just that whole show, got us a little bit worked up. We didn’t expect it to be so sexual Puppy,” He nodded towards James and that’s when you noticed the erection he was still sporting.

“Got us really worked up, can we go home now?” James asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, trying to distract himself from his little problem.

“Jamie,” You whined, smiling wickedly, “I wanted to celebrate, I was thinking we could go eat somewhere, I was thinking maybe Thai food?”

You watched as Sirius ground his teeth, conflicted between needing to get home and not wanting to deny you from what you wanted.

“Having fun teasing us Bunny?” Remus asked you with a sly smirk, knowing exactly what you were doing.

“M’not teasing,” You insisted, turning indignantly to your other boyfriend.

“Sure you aren’t,” He chuckled, “Thai sounds great (Y/N), wanna talk with you about the show,” The idea of teasing Sirius and James even longer was very appealing to Remus and he was ready to make the sacrifice of being teased himself, knowing that he’d be able to get back at you later that night.

“But-” James began.

“You wanna argue with me Jamie?” Remus challenged, raising a singular eyebrow.

“No,” He moped, “Of course not.”

“Good,” Remus said, nodding his head approvingly, “We wouldn’t wanna deny our Princess would we?”

James shook his head, eyes pleading, desperately seeking Remus’ approval.

“Pads?” Remus challenged, turning his attention to the other raven haired man.

“What? Oh um, of course not,” He agreed distractedly, dragging his eyes from your form to meet Remus’, his reluctance evident in his voice.

“Good,” Remus said pointedly, his eyes cold, daring Sirius to question him. When he didn’t the werewolf continued, “Let’s get going then, there’s a nice little restaurant a couple blocks away yeah?”

As you all hummed your consent you made your way to the exit, “Ten galleons if you can make James cum in his pants at dinner,” Remus whispered in your ear quietly enough so that James and Sirius trailing behind you wouldn’t be able to hear you, you could hear the smirk in his voice as you exited the theatre.

“Deal.” This was going to be fun, you considered that you might have to invite them to come see the show again.

-pation

tagging: @randomoutsiders @weasleyposts @kittykylax @amourtentiaa @superbturtlemakerathlete

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switchspencer · 3 years

Note

good evening yes i will would you like to discuss middle of the night “it’s raining outside and i got lonely” sex with spencer?

okay YES because middle of the night sex is sex with IMMACULATE VIBES and ESPECIALLY if it’s raining this is literally the most elite combination of things??

this went a little bit far and there’s actually two sort of blurbs under here.... yikes

word count: 1.5k (the first blurb is 500 words and the other is 1k)

ship: afab! reader x spencer reid

warnings: a storm, penetrative sex, implied creampie, neck kissing, sleepy sex, i think that’s pretty much it!!

i imagine it in one of two ways:

if you’re dating, he’s cuddled up to you. being the big spoon, pressed against your back, his crotch against your ass, his face nestled into the crook of your neck.

he whispers, “are you awake?” his voice is raspy and low, thick with sleep even though he hasn’t been successfully in drifting off yet, and so quiet you can barely even hear it over the pitter patter sounds of the rain at the window. you nod, barely visible in the dim lighting, but he feels it.

his fingers move from where they’re interlocked with yours, skimming over the exposed skin at your waist where your pyjama top has ridden up.

you use your right knee to shift yourself, pushing your body further into his, properly facing him. he doesn’t say anything. neither do you. but your eyes meet, and you can just about make out the outline of his nose as he leans in to kiss you. soft. his fingers following the trail upwards to your nipple, and rolling the left one between his thumb and forefinger. you lift your hips upwards, and feel him grin against your mouth. your hand comes to rest at the nape of his neck, using the hair there as leverage.

his crotch meets yours. he’s hard, really hard, and you gasp. he revels in the noise, it only spurs him to kiss you harder, wiggling his hips to make quick work of his pyjama pants. clumsily, with the hand that isn’t in his hair, you do the same with your own.

surprisingly (or, perhaps, unsurprisingly) you’re wet already. who could really blame you, your incredibly hot boyfriend is so insatiable for you that he’s forgoing precious hours of sleep.

neither of you strip all the way off. he slips inside of you. it’s almost unceremonious, like you’re just meant to slot together like that, nothing out of the ordinary happening. and in a way, it isn’t, you’ve had sex plenty of times. but there’s something different about this time. the way his mouth devours you, the way every move feels measured and thought out.

there’s no loud moans. no cries of each others names. there’s a veil of peace and content shrouding you that neither of you wants to pierce. it’s all quiet gasps, swallowed by his mouth or breathed into his neck while you adorn it with kisses. not harsh ones that will leave marks, just light ones. a small trail down to his collarbone before he captures your lips with his again. his breathing increasing in tandem with your own as he thrusts, your hand threading through the one resting next to your head. the other pulling desperately at his back. to hold him closer to you.

his thumb rubbing over your clit as he slips in and out of you. your head tipping back, biting back a moan as your releases find each other. the pitter patter of the rain never intruding on the moment. just serving as a peaceful backdrop as you lose yourselves in one another.

OR version two: you’re on a case together and he can’t sleep. he hears you leave your room, so he pokes his head around his door. you’d gone to the vending machine at the end of the hall to get a snack.

you almost jump out of your skin when you turn around and see him, tousled bed hair, head peaking around the frame of his bedroom door.

“oh,” he breathes, a mock whisper, “sorry i didn’t mean to frighten you. i just wondered who was walking around.”

“just me,” you reply sheepishly, briskly walking the four steps down the hallway to meet him so that your voices don’t draw out the rest of your team on the floor, “sorry, did i wake you?”

he shakes his head, “no. no i was already awake.”

“you can’t sleep either?”

“no.”

“do you want to come and sit with me?”

he tips his head, considering it for a moment. it really isn’t that big a deal, you’ve hung out on plenty of occasions. even shared a bed once, although that time every single breath he’d breathed had caught in his throat whenever you came within an inch of him, his heart leaping out of his chest.

“you don’t have to,” you follow up, and watch his eyes widen, “you just could if you want to. i know it’s no fun being awake alone.”

he presses his lips together thoughtfully, “um, if it’s not too much bother. i wouldn’t want to impose.”

“i invited you,” you say, turning around and using the key card to open your bedroom door, “come in.”

he follows you into the room. there’s a double bed, and your lamp has been left on. you’d had it off when you were trying to sleep, but the storm outside is pretty bad. as if to illustrate your point, there’s a loud rumble, and you’re so startled you almost jump, your hand flying to your chest.

“i wasn’t expecting that,” you laugh.

“there’s a storm coming in from the east,” he informs you, walking in and hovering awkwardly by your bed.

“sit down,” you instruct, “make yourself comfortable.”

you clamber onto the bed yourself. the curtains are shut, but you don’t miss the flash of the lightning that comes two beats after the thunder.

“did you know it takes the sound of thunder approximately 5 seconds to travel one mile?”

“i didn’t,” you reply, crossing your legs, “is it true that you can guess when the lightning will strike based on the thunder sound? i remember hearing about that as a child but i didn’t know if it was true.”

he doesn’t reply for a second. mostly because your pyjama shorts rode up when you crossed your legs, exposing a sizeable amount of skin that he hadn’t been privy to seeing before. he swallows, and your eyes fall down to where his gaze is sat, approximately a milisecond before he tears it away.

the tips of his ears turning pink, his voice cracks on the first syllable, “y-yes, that is actually true.”

“huh,” you nod, “do you want to look at the lightning?”

“w-what?”

right on cue, there’s another rumble. it lasts one, two, three, four, five seconds.

you pull back the curtains, wiggling forward. he follows your lead. the window is only small so you end up pressed against one another as you look at it. all darkness, the window pane smeared with rain that’s beaten down against it. his body is warm, and your heart hammers in your chest at the sensation of your shoulders pressed together. you swear his knees shake before he settles down more properly, sitting on the balls of his feet.

flash. the lightning lasts all of five seconds, but you’re not looking at it after maybe three. instead, you’re looking at him, the last fragments of it reflected in the lenses of his glasses.

“do you like storms?”

“i’m not the biggest fan,” he admits.

you’re staring right at him. you see his adam’s apple bob. it does twice before he caves and looks at you. in the lamplight, you can see his pupils dilate, the honey absorbed right before your eyes. there’s a static in the air that the storm can’t be blamed for.

neither of you move. a game of almost chicken. you don’t want to be the one to make the first move incase it’s something he doesn’t want, something he’s unprepared for. but his gaze drops from your lips and back to your eyes, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip and it’s so obvious that it must be deliberate. it must be deliberate because he’s a profiler and he knows better, knows what those kind of non-verbal cues suggest. so when you tilt your head, the faintest bit, and his follows in the same direction you know what’s happening.

there’s a warmth in the air between your lips, searing hot, and your heart thrums with nerves. your nerves couldn’t possibly be quelled, it’s too much, but your knees can’t quite adjust to the movement of your weight and you tip forward, hand resting on his shoulder. if he wanted to stop you, if he didn’t want to do this, now would be an opportune time to stop you but he doesn’t. he stares at you, imploring you to come closer, pursing his lips.

he’s a blur. you’re so close to his face that the features can’t be made out anymore and it’s him, it’s spencer, the one who finally closes the gap and kisses you.

really kisses you. it starts off slow. gentle. tentative. the heat radiates off his hand but he doesn’t bring it to your waist until you lean in to deepen the kiss. and then he holds you.

it moves so far so fast. the kissing is hurried, enthusiastic, as if now you’ve started you can’t quite fathom how you’d go about stopping. shedding clothes, thrown behind you in your haste. the rumble of thunder is the soundtrack as you pepper kisses all down his body, sucking marks that will purple right above his hipbone. pressing him back against the headboard. when he looks up at you, glasses slipping down his nose, he’s no longer the picture of innocence.

it happens so fast you’re not sure how you get there but what you do know is you’re on top of him, riding him, both so fucking loud that you’re not sure even the sounds of the storm can drown you out.

LINK TO JOIN TAGSLIST (for this blog and @reidyoulikeabook )

NSFW Spencer tagslist: @fiftyshadesofspencerreid @holding-on-to-my-youth @spencerreidat3am @muffin-cup @ssareidbby @reidyourmind @lumosemily @reidaissance @hauntedinsomnia @averyhotchner @sunkissglow @reidsacademia @gingertea6460 @opheli-yeah @meganskane @idonotexiste @thosecriminalminds

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #spencer reid #minors dni #not sfw #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #mgg smut

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besanii · 3 years

Text

paper-thin

[ WangXian ; XiXian ]

The war is won!

Gusu is victorious!

Hanguang-wang is alive!

A sizeable crowd has gathered on the streets outside of the palace gates by the time Lan Wangji arrives, freshly bathed and changed out of his travel-weary and battle-worn armour into his formal robes. He dismounts as the guards approach, keeping the reins in his hand as he shows his pass; they grant him passage with a low bow, moving to the side as he leads his horse through the gates as quickly as decorum will allow.

The maids and eunuchs he passes on his way to the Hall of Mental Cultivation pay their respects with low bows and bent knees, lowering their gazes as they murmur his title with something akin to awe. He nods curtly in response but otherwise does not halt in his progress—it would not do to keep the Emperor waiting, war hero or not.

It's been over a year since he went to war, defending Gusu's coast against the invading forces of Dongying. The war had been harrowing and brutal and there were many times Lan Wangji where hadn't been sure he would survive. But he'd fought on with grit and tenacity, acutely aware of his role as a member of the Imperial family to lead and inspire his troops by example. That is, until a well-aimed arrow caught him in the shoulder between the plates of his armour, and sent him overboard in the midst of battle.

He’d survived. Barely.

The doors to the Imperial study are open when he arrives, and the eunuchs kneeling on either side of the door touch their foreheads to the ground in greeting. He walks up to the eunuch standing closest to the door.

“I am here to see the Emperor,” he says.

“Yes, Wangye,” the eunuch replies. He gets to his feet and turns to the door, raising his voice to announce: “Huangshang, Hanguang-wang begs an audience.”

They do not have to wait long for a response.

“Enter.”

The Emperor is still dressed in his court robes despite the lateness of the hour—the afternoon court session had been over for at least two shichen already—the black silk sleeves stark against the embroidered gold draped over the desk where he works. He puts his brush down as Lan Wangji parts the beaded curtain hanging from the archway leading into the main chamber, a smile already forming on his lips as he watches Lan Wangji kneel in the centre of the room.

“Your humble servant greets Huangshang,” Lan Wangji says, touching his forehead to the floor. “May our Emperor live for ten thousand years.”

“You may rise, Hanguang-wang,” the Emperor says. "We are very pleased to see you returned to the capital alive and well. Your service to the Empire will be duly rewarded."

Lan Wangji rises to his feet, sweeping over the invisible creases of his robe and shaking out his wide sleeves.

"Huangshang gives your subject too much credit," he replies. "I live to serve the Empire and will gladly give my life a thousand times over in its protection."

"Your devotion is recognised, Hanguang-wang, and appreciated," the Emperor says. "Nevertheless, a great victory such as this should be rewarded. Come, brother, is there anything you would wish for? Name it and it shall be granted."

Lan Wangji's hands curl into fists by his side.

"Huangshang would grant anything your subject wishes?" he asks quietly.

The smile on the Emperor's face freezes. A muscle twitches in his jaw as he swallows; he closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and exhales slowly. The smile smooths into something cooler, but no less genial.

"Anything within reason," he clarifies.

Lan Wangji exhales and bows his head.

"Your lowly subject dares to presume Huangshang knows what it is I wish for," he says, keeping his voice carefully level. "There is only one wish—one request—your lowly subject would make."

He hears the Emperor sigh, a low, disappointed sound, and his stomach sinks with realisation. But he had not dragged himself out of the depths of hell and back here to give up so easily. In the three months he had allowed himself to be presumed dead, laying feverish and close to death with an infected wound, it had been this one hope, this one wish that had kept him clinging to life. If he survived the war, won the war, then nothing would stop him from coming back and finally—finally—asking for the one thing he's wanted more than life itself.

When he chances an upward glance, the corner of the Emperor's lips are drawn in tight and the crease between his brows have deepened. Lan Wangji has had years to learn the shape of the Emperor's moods, even the ones he hides behind pleasantries and polite smiles, and he knows the Emperor is displeased.

"We would advise Hanguang-wang to make another request," he says finally. Do not continue to pursue this.

Lan Wangji drops to his knees. "Huangshang, you know there is nothing else I would ask for.”

“Wangji, enough!” The room stills. A sigh. “Leave us.”

The eunuchs and maids turn in unison and bow, backing out of the chamber without a word; the door to the study shuts behind them. Lan Wangji curls and uncurls his fists against his thighs, breathing heavily through his nose as he struggles to get his heart rate back under control. He hears the rustle of fabric, followed by footsteps from behind the desk coming towards him, but he dares not raise his eyes.

“Wangji,” Lan Xichen says in an odd, stilted tone Lan Wangji has never heard before. “There is something you should know.”

Eunuchs and palace maids alike cower in the wake of his fury, scattering to the winds as soon as he passes. No one stops to question why a male member of the Imperial family aside from the Emperor and his sons is here, unaccompanied, within the gilded walls of the inner palace. Perhaps word had been sent ahead of his arrival, perhaps they had been expecting him--whatever the reason, Lan Wangji knows he would cut down anyone who dares stand in his way right now.

His mind is still reeling as he turns the corner along the once-familiar path that winds through the Imperial gardens, his feet following the route ingrained into him as a child still living within the palace walls.

He hasn't walked this path in close to fifteen years. Not much has changed: the trees and the flowers are the same--still the delicate gentians favoured by the previous mistress of this particular courtyard—only now there are also lotuses surrounding the small pavilion in the heart of the man-made pond, filling the air with their sweet fragrance. And inside that pavilion, an entirely different person is silhouetted against the afternoon sun.

A skirmish arose between Yunmeng and Qishan involving Qishan-hou's second son.

Wen-er-gongzi was injured in the confrontation.

He takes a step forward, his feet suddenly heavy as though weighed down by boulders, dragging along the gravel. The person in the pavilion is still too far to have noticed him, but Lan Wangji has a clear view of the long black hair twisted up into a half-knot to expose the line of a long, slender neck, held in place by a fanzhan made of silver and set with blue sapphires. The sight of it makes his throat run dry.

Qishan demanded retribution for the injuries inflicted on Wen-er-gongzi. The life of his attacker.

Both Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen were each presented with a set the rare jewels at their coming of age, a mark of their status as members of the Imperial family. To see the same jewels adorning the familiar head of hair—

We believed you dead, Wangji.

He drags his feet another step forward, the breath catching in his throat as the person in the pavilion half-turns at the sound.

We needed to protect him.

“Who goes there?” a eunuch calls, hurrying around the corner along the path around the pond. “This is Wei-xuanyi’s private garden, outsiders are not perm—”

“It’s alright, let him through.”

A lump forms in his throat so large he can barely breathe around it without pain; whatever hope of this being a cruel joke is crushed at the familiar voice. How many times in the past year has he heard it in his dreams? How many times has the memory of that voice called him back from the gates of Hell itself, when the rest of the world thought him dead?

The eunuch drops to his knees on the side of the garden path and bows his head; Lan Wangji takes this as a sign to proceed.

As a child, the garden path had always seemed wide and inviting; it had always led to his mother, the late Empress, the only source of light and happiness and home in his childhood. And yet now all he feels is dread, cold and dark, seeping out through the cracks in the surface of his façade with every step.

Lan Xichen’s words ring in his ears.

Wangji, it was the only way we could save him.

He stops at the bottom of the steps leading into the pavilion. Four steps. Just four steps, and yet his legs refuse to move, to take even just one more step forward; it is as though his body is fighting with everything it has against it. He can't move.

He is unsure how long he stands there at the bottom of the steps boring holes into the paved stones—it is difficult to keep track when one's mind is filled with the deafening roar of one's own heartbeat. It is not until the sound of footsteps, followed by a rush of activity in his periphery as the palace maids and eunuchs fall to their knees in unison, does he finally raise his eyes.

There, standing at the top of the steps, clad in soft, flowing robes of Gusu blue and Yunmeng purple, with Lan Xichen's jewels in his hair—

Wangji. Wei Wuxian—

Wei Wuxian lowers his head and bends at the knees, his fingertips clasped lightly by his hip. A demure greeting, wildly unsuitable for a member of the gentry.

“Hanguang-wang,” he murmurs. He raises his eyes slightly, enough to peer at Lan Wangji from beneath his lashes. Demure. Restrained.

The ground crumbles beneath Lan Wangji’s feet.

—I have taken Wei Wuxian as a consort.

Translations

Wangye (王爺) - equivalent of a Duke, usually Emperor’s brother or uncle

Huangshang (皇上) - the Emperor; as per usual, I only use the pinyin when the term is used when directly addressing LXC

hou (侯) - equivalent of Marquis, second highest rank after 王

xuanyi (宣儀) - lit. ‘Propagator of Deportment’, a variant of the Tang dynasty concubine ranking pin (嬪) that doesn’t use feminine qualities; the second highest rank after furen/zande (夫人/贊德), used between 662-670 (possibly under Wu Zetian’s influence)

fazhan (髮簪) - hair ornament/pin

Notes

Title is taken from the Chinese phrase boming (薄命), which means to have an unlucky fate (usually in reference to women). It literally translates to “thin life/fate”. Inspired by a line in the song 雪落下的聲音 (the sound of snowfall; Story of Yanxi Palace OST): 此生如纸般薄命 - this life, my fate is as thin as paper.

For those of you wondering where the hell I’m going with this—I have no fucking clue lmao. I just wanted to write WangXian angst with a dose of XiXian that doesn’t involve Dark!LXC for once. I also cannot be bothered to look back on this anymore, so any mistakes are purely cos I’ve given up working on this any further hahahahahaha *dies*

Inspired by a mish-mash of Story of Yanxi Palace (Fuheng x Yinglou reunion anyone???) and Empress of China (mostly the OST, but also the gorgeous costuming and setting of the Tang Dynasty).

Will I continue it? Maybe??? It took me weeks to even get my ass into gear to write this one snippet, I honestly don’t know if I will get around to writing more. But if it interests you, send me an ask about the ‘verse and I’ll try and expand more on it, even if it’s just headcanon form and not fic.

buy me a ko-fi!

#my writing #wangxian #mdzs #lan wangji #wei wuxian #薄命 #王爺機 x 妃子羡 #lan xichen #xixian #consort!wwx #emperor!lxc #duke!lwj #lan wangji x wei wuxian #lan xichen x wei wuxian #🔪🔪#harem au #imperial au #set in the Tang Dynasty if we REALLY have to specify lol #paper thin fic

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kohakuarisaka · 3 years

Text

Untamed (chapter 5 of 5)

Takami Keigo x (fem!)Reader

[ SUMMARY ] Every year, without fail, Hawks went into a rut: when autumn began, and then again in early spring. He would honker down up north in a secluded cabin. For the first time, he brought you with him.

[ WARNINGS ] R18+ for graphic sexual content and language. Non-canon compliant: Hawks’ quirk does not work like this. Reader is a hero that works at Hawks agency. Pre-existing relationship. Reader is a female with female genitalia. Feral behavior. Rutting. Biting. Spanking. Slight BDSM. Consensual sex. Wing kink. Oral sex. Romantic relationship.

Chapter 1 • Chapter 2 • Chapter 3 • Chapter 4 • Chapter 5

[ My BNHA Fanfic Masterlist ] ~ [ Also on my AO3 ]

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It was dark by the time you woke, that much was clear since Hawks had pulled the curtains back and the only source of light was coming from the fireplace. Your chest, facing the fire, felt warm; but, your back, despite being wrapped in blankets, felt bare and cold.

Hawks was no longer nuzzled in the assortment of bedding with you, and while that shouldn't have mattered to you that much, it strangely did. You felt a tinge of anxiety as you sat up; but, then, you spotted him, or more accurately his wings, as he was fumbling around with something in the kitchen.

He had seen or felt you stirring, that much was clear when Hawks came speeding around into the living room with a water bottle in hand. His hair was a scraggly mess and he was naked, glistening with various fluids and clearly very unwashed.

"Here," he offered, slinking back into the mess of sheets and pillows.

You chugged half the water bottle down, parting with a sigh and watched Hawks hastily gulp down what was left before carelessly tossing the bottle away. It didn't land on the ground, zipped away and tossed in the trash by one of his feathers.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

One of his hands caressed the side of your neck, fingers wrapped loosely around the back and thumb prodding at your jaw. He turned your head slightly one way, then the next, examining you.

His concerned tone and the worry etched all over his face, along with his examination, had you frowning. Annoyance surfaced at Hawks behaving as if he had something wrong or even hurt you.

"Why wouldn't I be?" you asked bluntly, not bothering to mask the irritation in your tone.

His eyebrows lowered slightly and his lips puckered into a pout. However, there was some ease on his face, pleased to know you hadn't lost your wits or bite. That was always a good sign.

"You know why," he uttered lowly.

"It was so horrible. That's why I begged you to keep going," you replied dryly.

It was worth the sass to watch his cheeks darken just a little bit. Hawks was very rarely the kind of get shy; but, he had exposed a very hidden part of himself to you, something dark and feral that wasn't exactly good for a pro hero, or any person for that matter.

"Keigo," you uttered, shifting your tone to something gentler. "I really did enjoy it. It didn't hurt or anything. You just wore me out, and - aheh - that was a new record for us, yeah?"

His frown slowly shifted into a faint smile. "A record for me," he uttered, shifting his gaze away. "But, I didn't get you there nearly as much."

"Come on, you know it's not that easy; and, it's not like it didn't feel good - every second of it," you protested, hand landing on his chest, right over his heart.

Hawks' skin felt sticky, no doubt with your combined sweat and possibly other fluids. But, you didn't dare retreat, staring at him with dedication until he finally looked back at you.

"How was it for you?" you asked sincerely. "Was it good - was I good?"

Hawks' eyes lit up as if he couldn't believe you had to even ask.

"Holy fu-" he breathed. "I didn't wanna make you worry or anything, so I didn't say it; but, alone, I wouldn't, y'know, masturbate. Just-" He paused to take a deep breath. "-week long stiffy."

He paused again to let out a brief, debilitating laugh. You, however, weren't laughing, frowning at the winged hero.

"So, I wasn't sure what to expect," he continued. "With you here and - well, you know, so I could-"

Hawks paused, leaning in to kiss you in an attempt to wipe the sour look off your face and to get himself to stop blabbering on senselessly.

"But, babe," he continued hastily, "goddamn, you were so, so good. Never felt so satisfied in my fucking life."

For a man who was always so secretive, always wearing a mask, the truth sounded so good on his lips, like he couldn't wait to tell you, like the weight of the world just lifted off his shoulders. He was wearing a small smile, eyes wrinkled at the corners, with a faint red tint on his cheeks.

"You satisfy me, too, y'know?" you whispered softly. "Always. So, I - I'm happy that I can give you that, too."

"Oh, babe," Hawks replied, matching your tone, albeit more sweetly. "This isn't new. You always make me feel so good. That's why I always come back, begging for more."

"Begging, huh? That's an option?" you teased hoarsely, leaning in to peck at the corner of his lips.

Hawks smiled, turning his head to kiss you properly, parting with a wet smack after a few seconds.

"If it's what you want?" he offered, whispering against your lips. "Me begging? Dirty girl."

You laughed softly at his teasing. If you were being honest with yourself, you were enraptured at the mere mental image, not that Hawks was too above getting on his knees for you, typically to reach your sex with his mouth. He didn't mind doing it on concrete, either, especially after a patrol, with his jumpsuit clinging to his sweaty body.

"Could I beg for something right now?" you asked softly.

"'course, babe," Hawks replied, his smile unwavering.

"Can I take a shower?" you muttered.

His brow lifted, eyes widening almost comically, and he flushed with embarrassment. "Yeah - yeah - you don't have to ask - oh - ohhh - I kinda growled at you huh-" Hawks cut off with nervous laughter, one of his hands flying up to push sweaty hair out of his face.

"You know," you began, voice a little hoarse, "you could do that outside of your rut, too?"

Hawks licked his lips before they curled into a grin. "Yeah? You like that? I can do that. Whatever you want," he replied suavely, as if you had just given him permission to do something quite dastardly.

"Ugh-" he stammered, charmed expression immediately shifting into something adorably nervous. "Before you - can I - can I look?"

To make his point clearer, Hawks slowly pulled the blanket off your body, sliding it away from your legs until you were nude to the air inside the cabin. His hands touched your knees but didn't pry them apart. Instead, you opened your legs for him, feeling a flush of nervousness as something very wet gushed from your folds, the hypersensitivity making the feeling intensified.

Hawks looked down, cheeks red and eyes comically wide; instead of following his gaze, you watched him, intrigued by the expression he was wearing. If you were being honest, it looked like the face a child made the first time they came across porn on the internet.

"Oh," he blurted dumbly.

If he didn't look so damn cute, you probably would have smacked him. It was embarrassing, if the mess looked how it felt, which it did. Hawks could see thick globs of his seed oozing from your cunt, like something out of a porno and not reality.

He swallowed loudly, resisting the urge to use his fingers to smear it all over your sex.

"Keigo?" you uttered, catching his attention suddenly.

"Sorry," he replied hoarsely. "That's really fucking hot."

His bold statement had your heart thundering with praise. However, as much as he might have enjoyed the sight of his seed dripping out of you, you were quite over it. That must have been written all over your face, for the winged hero flushed nervously.

"I'll - ugh - get you to the - the shower," Hawks stammered, standing up and carefully bringing you with him.

You didn't protest when you lifted you into his arms and carried you across the cabin, heading for the bathroom. More oozed out when he set you on your feet, and Hawks paused to stare, watching a heavy droplet slide down your inner thigh.

You dramatically cleared your throat and Hawks jolted as if you had slapped him. He staggered away, leaning into the shower to turn the nozzle. He remained standing nearby, one hand under the running water to check the temperature.

After a minute or so, and some fiddling with the knob, he pulled his hand away.

"There, scalding, just how you like it," he teased.

"Oh, shut up," you huffed harmlessly, carefully stepping past him to enter the shower.

You were surprised when he followed in after you, not because you were discomforted by his accompaniment, but because you were surprised you both managed to fit. The shower was clearly not made for couples. It made you wonder if Hawks ever expected to have someone else here with him.

Hawks carefully slid into the spot behind you as the warm water gently pummeled your front, soaking your hair and washing away the sweat. He tucked his wings in tight against his back to avoid smacking the walls and waited for his turn under the stream.

However, that thought died when he caught the sight of your back, littered with pink bruises and two large marks the shape of his teeth. Without thinking, he arched over you to kiss at the bite marks he had left over your shoulders and upper back. You whined at the sudden touch and the slight pain that blossomed on the bruised skin.

"Sorry," Hawks uttered sharply and suddenly, reeling back so quickly that he smacked into the wall, as if he had lost control for a moment.

"I should leave-" he choked out, pushing the sliding door to the shower back open.

You sharply turned around to stop him. As you took in the sight of him, you realized that he was hard again, which was likely what prompted his retreat. Well, it was an attempted retreat anyway, for you grabbed at his arm, stopping him halfway out.

"Keigo, it's okay," you uttered softly, pulling him back into the shower.

He looked comically terrified as you dragged him back into the stall and under the flowing current of the shower head. His hands smacked onto the wall and his feet skidded against the tiles as he tried not to collide with you. His wings shuddered behind him, feathers trying to remain tucked in tight against his back, resisting the urge to flex out.

"Can you be gentle?" you asked, in less of a questioning tone, and more of a guiding one.

You could see the fear melt away and unbridled, raw passion began to glow in his gold eyes.

"Fuck - really? Y-yeah," he breathed.

His tone, so grateful, so happy, tugged at your heartstrings and made your clit throb faintly between your legs. You were ashamed to think that you could still get aroused after such an eventful morning. Yet, you had no doubt, he could easily slip in right now without any preparation. It was an exciting thought.

You turned around slowly, folded your arms against the wall and laid your cheek against them, before propping up on your toes, presenting to him. Hawks braced an arm on the wall with a sudden smack that startled you. He let out a low exhale, and you wondered if he nearly fell over.

"Fuck," he sighed, confirming that suspicion. "I really - really gotta make it up to you," he uttered, hands slowly sliding over your plump hips.

"Nothing to make up," you protested softly. "'m enjoying myself, too."

He didn't pull or move you, but brought himself in. You felt the tops of his thighs against the back of yours, his knees getting knocking against you, toes curling where they touched your own feet.

You weren't surprised at how easily he slipped in. Hawks, however, clearly was, for he whined like an injured pup, and you felt his head fall forward and collide with your back. A drawn-out shudder ran through him, from head to toe, and you felt every inch of it.

"Ohhhh fuck," he groaned into your skin. He leaned back enough to kiss at one of your bruises. "No more bites," he promised. "Just - mmm-" he cut off and you felt the heat of his tongue lapping at the bite marks while he grumbled out a please hum.

Instead of one of his feathers, a long, calloused digit dipped between your folds to flick back and forth at your pearl in long strokes, forcing a pleased whine from deep in your throat.

As you requested, he set a steady pace, just enough force to be enjoyable, but not anything like this morning. Like this, he reached that perfect spot that made you keen. He seemed to be enjoying the drag well enough, if his soft moans and huffed exhales were anything to go by.

"That's perfect," you sobbed, nails scratching against the wall tiles.

"Yeah?" he uttered hopefully.

His boyish tone caught you a little off guard, not that it was unwanted. He seemed excited at the thought of getting you to come. It was hardly a priority for you most of the time. It felt good and that was all that mattered; Hawks, however, was a man on a mission.

"Like that?" he groaned, right into your ear.

He didn't change anything, but desired the confirmation that he was doing it right.

"Yes, Keigo," you uttered weakly. Immediately, you changed your mind. "No - harder," you added on insistently.

He obeyed, delivering a little more force to the movement of his hips, and then, it really was perfect. You pushed back against the wall, legs straining to keep yourself upright, to meet his thrusts, to keep him at that perfect angle. You threatened to fall when your orgasm hit you, but Hawks had an arm wrapped around your waist in record time.

Your combined screams echoed in the tiny shower stall, and you realized faintly that he was coming, too. His wings unconsciously jutted out and smacked the wall. Hawks, however, couldn't be bothered to care, and kept thrusting into you until every drop was spent.

You tilted your head back and he lowered his, meeting you in a sloppy kiss that was mostly tongue and teeth. His cock softened, surprisingly, and popped free, leading you to wonder if you had finally exhausted him, at least for today.

The pleased, blissed out look on his face was something downright pornographic, but beautiful as ever. Even when you turned your head away from the kiss, he lingered, lips brushing your cheek. His tongue darted out to taste your skin, and you growled.

"Guh - stop that," you scolded him, arm shifting back and threatening to elbow him.

He didn't apologize, unsurprisingly, but he did stop.

Hawks reached up, uttering, "the shower head detaches", and pulled it down to make his point. Sure enough, it extended with a metallic sound as the internal hose dragged.

"Actually," you uttered. "You said you'll make it up to me?"

Hawks hummed agreeingly.

"Clean me," you demanded softly.

He chuckled into the space above your shoulder, whispering, "yes, ma'am."

In the days that followed, Hawks bent you over the chabudai, propped you up on the counter tops in the kitchen, against the door when you threatened to step outside without him. You were almost embarrassed to admit that his angered state had aroused you senselessly.

On one of the warmer days, he took you outside, held you up against a tree with your legs wrapped around his waist, and fucked you until you forgot how cold it was. At some point, his momentum had become too feverous, and knocked some snow off the tree, which coated the both of you.

Together, you melted the snow off in front of the fireplace. He stared at you, then, as if he couldn't believe you were real. You could practically see the gears turning in his head, as he wondered if this was a fever dream and not reality.

"Birdie, talk to me," you asked, breaking him out of his stupor.

"I'm just so happy," he answered, looking a little weak, for just a moment.

"Me, too," you whispered, feeling him fold over you, bringing you into an embrace, before his wings followed, wrapping around you like a crimson blanket.

When the final day came, you spent the morning cleaning the cabin together, just the same as you did when you first arrived. Hawks cleared the ashes out of the fireplace while you dusted. He put covered the furniture, using his wings to gain some height to make it easier, while you folded the freshly washed bedding and tucked it away in the chest upstairs.

He looked like a new man, if you were being honest. His feathers were bright and shiny, elegantly draped behind him in their neat assembly of twin wings. His skin practically glowed and his eyes were sharp. There was bounce in his step and he was practically buzzing with energy. You couldn't help but feel smug at the sight. His rut was ending well satisfied for the first time in his entire life-

-because of you.

When everything was done, Hawks suddenly descended upon you, arms winding around your waist and lips assaulting your cheek in feathery kisses.

You giggled at the onslaught, ceasing when he whispered into your ear, "one last time? -before the taxi arrives?"

You couldn't help but roll your eyes a little, scolding harmlessly, "horny bird."

"Ahuh," he agreed with a smirk.

You pushed against him until he let out go and glanced around the room, debating on what position and location suited your fancy. Hawks watched silently, intrigued and excited, as you walked around the cabin. He followed, hot on your heels, reaching for you every time you paused only to be shrugged off.

Luckily, it didn't take you long to choose a spot, grab Hawks by the arm, and drag him. He didn't have to be told twice, and pinned you there, leaning over you predatorily. Limbs tangled and lips met in a hurry to have each other one more time before you were whisked back to your hero lives.

#takami keigo x reader #takami keigo smut #takami keigo x you #takami keigo fanfiction #hawks x reader #hawks smut

446 notes · View notes

jinned · 3 years

Text

handsy | taehyung | m

snippet: Then, looking into your eyes, he speaks firmly, “Before we begin, let’s establish some ground rules.”

pairing: kim taehyung x female reader

genre: smut, pwp

au: roommates, f2l

rating: explicit/18+

word count: 3.7k

warnings: there’s a deep conversation about feelings, love confessions. yuck (UNEDITED)

sexual warnings: masturbation (female receiving), mutual pining, begging, rule making, dirty talk, non penetrative sex, oral (female receiving), body worship, light foot worship, the entire thing is based off getting reader off, taehyung doesn’t get off :(, taehyung is bossy, praise kink, taehyung calls reader babygirl, overstimulation, .001% of aftercare, moaning, hair pulling, marking, punishment kink?, dom/sub dynamics, orgasm...guilt?, daddy/baby kink (i’m so sorry)

The frustration builds quicker than you wanted, the groans coming from your mouth grow louder each time you feel your body give up on itself. You’re too god damn horny, but your body is too tired to properly masturbate.

This is probably the fifth time now that you've attempted to get yourself off only to abandon ship seconds after. Your muscles ache and sleep calls to you. Despite this, every time you try to just sleep it off, the aching throb from your clit keeps you awake.

It takes everything in you to keep yourself from throwing a tantrum like a toddler.

The clock now reads just after three in the morning, you let out one last angered breath. It comes out louder than you intended, the grunt raising in pitch before you can even stop yourself.

Moments later, your sleep-drunk roommate opens your door, rubbing his eyes with one fist as he holds himself up with the other hand gripping the doorway.

“Are you okay or whatever?” Taehyung sighs, slight annoyance laced in his tone.

Your eyes are wide with embarrassment as Taehyung’s sleepy eyes jolt awake with alertness as he finally sees you.

You’re laying on top of your comforter completely naked with one hand still draped across your womanhood.

Taehyung shifts his body against the door frame, the moonlight now flickering down his face. The shadows of your air-guided drapes chase that light, new depths illuminating across his nose and cheekbones. You’re not sure why your brain is trying so hard to think of metaphors and similes, anything to compare Taehyung to. It would be too easy to blame it on the lack of sleep. Then again, you’ve never truly looked at him this way before and it’s killing you that you can’t read the expression on his face.

In this moment, you realize you have neither fight nor flight instincts as you lay frozen in your bed, nothing willing you to cover yourself up.

Taehyung’s tongue pokes out of his mouth, moving slowly against his bottom lip as his eyes flick frantically from your body to the wall across the room. Raising a hand to cover his mouth, he clears his throat and brushes his thumb against his bottom lip to wipe away the remnants from his tongue.

Clearing his throat once more, his shoulder relaxes against the doorframe, his eyes continue to debate where to look. “Wha-whatcha doing there?” He immediately turns away from you after speaking, facing the wall as he aggressively rubs at the nape of his neck.

“Oh...you know...just trying to sleep.”

There’s a brief silence- minus the light flapping of your curtains. That and the mental beating you’re giving yourself for trying to joke about the situation at hand. There is no hiding it. You’ve been caught red-handed.

“Y/n,” Taehyung warns.

Shutting your eyes tightly, your brain moves at hyper-speed trying to figure out what to do or say next. A million scenarios flood in and all you want is to pick the option that lets you keep your roommate and not have to live with exploding embarrassment for the rest of your life.

You’re about to open your mouth and just say the first thing that comes to mind, perhaps brutal honesty will help you out in the end when Taehyung beats you to the punch.

“Do you...do you need help?”

It takes you a moment to register what he’s said. You’re finally able to move your hand away from your cunt and you slowly sit up and lay your back against your headboard, grabbing one of your pillows and hugging it tightly to your chest.

“I guess talking about it might help. Have you ever just been so horny and tired at the same time but you’re unable to do either of those things? I’ve been struggling for hours now trying to sleep but I can’t sleep because...you know, and then when I try to do that I’m just too tired to actually do it right and-”

“No, I mean-” Taehyung cuts himself off with a sigh, quickly followed by a slow intake of air, puffing his cheeks out as he releases it and walks towards your bed. Determination and bravery are written all over his face, despite the fact that he’s still trying to respectively not look at you.

“I can help you.”

A few more moments pass before you finally understand what he’s trying to say.

“Oh...OH!” You can’t help but gasp as it finally clicks in your head exactly what he’s offering to you.

“Wouldn’t that,” you gulp, your face feeling painfully warm, “wouldn’t that make things weird? Between us?”

Taehyung’s jaw is tight, his muscles jutting forward as he looks towards your bedroom door. “It doesn’t have to be weird...if you don’t want them to be. I mean, I can honestly say I haven’t ever...you know, not thought of you in this way before.” He lets out another long puff of air, hand grasping at the back of his neck as he tries to massage the tension away.

You feel embarrassed and flattered all at once. Your roommate of three years, best friend of over ten years, has admitted to thinking of you in a sexual way.

Taehyung lets you think for a moment. But it only allows you more time to realize that you can’t feign innocence here either. There was that major crush you had on him in high school or the time you walked in on him in the shower. There’s definitely been a handful of times where he’s crept into your thoughts while you were with someone else or even times when you were alone.

There are a million things that could go wrong if you accept his offer.

Or, a million things that could go right.

“Okay,” you say bravely, “please help me.”

Turning his head slowly, Taehyung finally looks at you, his eyes roaming every inch of your body slowly. He inhales, his jaw clenching once more as his gaze falls upon your uncovered chest.

Then, looking into your eyes, he speaks firmly, “Before we begin, let’s establish some ground rules.”

Gulping slowly, you nod your head, trying not to think about the lack of friction going on below.

"Rule number one," Taehyung starts with a smile, "you will not touch me."

"What?-"

"Nuh, uh." He interrupts you, finally taking a seat at the end of your bed. Without looking, he picks up your bare feet and places them in his lap, his hands roaming over your calves and down to your toes. The touch of his skin on yours alone is sending the signals in your body into overdrive. That mixed with the tiredness you're feeling, it's making it nearly impossible to think straight.

"I've been thinking about a night like this for a while. Respectfully, of course," he adds quickly. "I never wanted to do anything to ruin what we have. But damn, I really can't deny it. I've thought about making you cum over and over and over again so many times it was like a movie in my mind." Taehyung continues to stroke your feet and legs sensually as he speaks. It takes everything in your power not to pounce on him.

Instead, you bite your bottom lip and close your eyes, letting the deep grumble of Taehyung's voice soothe your body along with all the places he's trailing his fingers on.

“Anyways,” he says with a quirk of his eyebrow, “back to our rules.”

His domineering tone sends chills throughout your body and you try your best to ignore the white noise ringing in your ears.

“Rule number two: you will not call me by my name.”

The urge to question him again is strong, but his stare makes you shut your mouth tightly.

He knows the question is hanging off the tip of your tongue, you know that he knows. Instead of throwing you a bone, he sits there smirking at you, sitting on his high horse while also looking like he knows the punchline to the joke you’ve been waiting to get.

Finally, he beckons you closer, his pointer finger slowly enticing you in. As soon as you’re close enough to see the dark flecks in his eyes, he leans in himself until his lips are hovering just over your ear.

“Baby gets to call me Daddy, and Daddy only.”

Admittedly, your first instinct is to laugh, the sheer shock of his words not fully settling in. But then, after a moment, you can tell just how much his words affected your body; your legs feel shakier, the core of your womanhood pulsates quicker, and you start to feel the dripping of your arousal moving down your thighs.

It only makes sense that your childhood friend, the love of your life, would also turn out to be the kinkiest person you’ve ever met.

It only makes sense.

“Okay...Daddy.”

The smugness on Taehyung’s face only increases.

“Good girl.”

“Are there any other rules...Daddy?” The word still feels odd coming out of your mouth. But it’s all worth it when you notice the growing tent in Taehyung’s sweatpants

Taehyung gets off the bed and walks closer to you, his hands behind his back. He appears so nonchalant and unbothered, almost like he’s ignoring the fact that he’s sporting the hardest erection he’s ever had in his life.

It makes you nervous in the best of ways.

Removing one hand from behind his back, he places it on one of your knees, caressing your flesh gently before opening your legs, spreading them wide to expose your dripping cunt. He nods his head with approval, biting his bottom lip hard as his eyes sweep over your entire naked body.

It feels like the room’s temperature went up another ten degrees.

Taehyung dips his hand lower, hovering over your cunt. Each time it looks like he’s about to touch you, your vagina pulses with anticipation, only for Taehyung to deceivingly pull away at the last second.

“Please, Daddy! Please touch me! I just want to cum, I’ll do anything!”

With a slight chuckle, Taehyung humors you and dips one of his fingers down, lightly petting the tops of your folds.

The small touch makes you shiver, the small amount of juices he accumulates on his fingers captures the now cold air in the room.

“Only because you asked so nicely.” And with that said, Taehyung's fingers glide over your folds, soaking in your slick juices. Your head falls back against your pillow and you wish you could sink in deeper; into the bed, the pillow, into him. He's murmuring something in your ears, but your mind is too focused on what's happening to your body, there's not enough mental capacity in there to comprehend words at the moment. The urge to reach out to him and feel his skin against the palm of your hand spurs deep in your chest, but not strong enough to act upon. Instead, you let your eyes flutter shut, sighing blissfully as he continues to massage and soothe your bud.

Taehyung continues a slow, sensual pace, one that you could arguably fall asleep to. It feels like every stress cell in your body slowly floats away with every stroke of his fingers.

"Just like that? Hmm?" You hear him say.

"Huh?" You manage out, your voice sounding weak and far away.

"I just didn't think you would react to me that quickly."

You open your eyes and look at him. Taehyung is propped up on one elbow, his hand cradling his jawline. His other hand continues to make brushstroke movements in between your folds. He looks at your vagina with wonder, and like he has something more to say.

But you're too tired and enjoying him too much to ask.

Moments later, Taehyung is picking up speed, beckoning your uncoming.

You don't feel ready to give up the warmth you feel with his touch, not ready to reach the top and climb back down.

Grasping onto Taehyung's shoulder, your fingernails dig into him as you bite down on your bottom lip, fighting desperately at the orgasm crashing down on you.

"There you go, baby. That's it. Come undone on my fingers." Taehyung's sweet demeanor is long gone as he watches you with sinful eyes.

A small moan leaves your lips as you let go; your legs shake vigorously underneath Taehyung's grasp and you feel the painful twist of a muscle spasm deep in your hamstrings.

Short gasps are all you can manage in response, your mind feeling more awake than before.

And in that brief pause between ministrations, your mind increases its speed tenfold.

This is your best friend you're laying in front of. The same guy you used to collect bugs with when you were younger, the same guy you were embarrassed in front of when he found out you started wearing a training bra.

And you just came in front of him.

"I'm so sorry, Taehyung!" you cry out, sitting up quickly and burying your face in your hands as you fight back hot tears from falling down your cheeks. "We can forget this ever happened!"

Taehyung is quiet behind you as you imagine yourself shrinking into a spec of nothing.

Then, tenderly, his hand is on top of yours, coaxing it away from your face. And you let him do it.

Taehyung holds your hands in his, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles before whispering, "Did I do something wrong?"

Immediately you want to scream no, but your words catch in your throat. His bottom lip is jutting out slightly and he's avoiding your eyes. And then you remember that you know him, you know him more than anyone, hell, sometimes you know him more than you know yourself. And right now, this Taehyung in front of you is just as embarrassed and emotional as you are.

"No," you say bravely, "I don't regret it at all. I'm sorry, I just-" you sigh and lean back, struggling to find the right words to say while fighting against your own embarrassment, "-I just never thought we would get to this point. And to hear you say all those things you were saying? I just don't understand. Why didn't you ever tell me? Why me to begin with?" That's when you realize where all of this insecurity is coming from. Taehyung has been with gorgeous people in the past, gorgeous, successful people. And the thought of him liking you? It must feel like a step down for him.

"It's always been you, Y/n. Ever since we first met. How could I ever for a second not want to be with you? You're my best friend, the person I go to for comfort. And because of that, I was always afraid to tell you about my feelings. Because just being in your life as your friend and your roommate, that was more than enough for me. And this doesn't have to go anywhere if you don't want it to be. I want it to go somewhere. Hell, Y/n I want to be with you. But if you don't want to be with me like that? I'll be okay."

His words swirl around your body, not quite processing into complacent thoughts. There are about a million different emotions coursing through your veins, and each one is battling to come to surface.

It feels selfish, the position he’s put you in. Because now, it’s all on you. Your choice will determine how your relationship with Taehyung changes forever. And, let’s be real, no matter what happens after this moment, things will never be the same. The weight of that realization is pushing you down into the mattress you sit on.

On the other hand, there’s excitement, joy, happiness, relief all bundled into one giant heart floating around you. Your best friend, the person you’ve been in love with for over a century now, feels the same way you do.

Taehyung waits in front of you patiently while you figure out exactly what to say.

You’re too tired for words, too tired for thoughts, too tired for almost everything it seems.

Well, everything, except…

You lean forward slowly, placing your weight on your hands as you close the space between you and Taehyung and place a tender kiss on his lips.

Taehyung sighs and closes his eyes, completely melting into your touch.

How could you not do the same?

All of the tiredness, all of the frustrations from before Taehyung entered your bedroom, it was all worth it to get to this moment. And you’d go through it every night for the rest of your life if it meant you got to kiss him just like this.

The kiss deepens quickly, your mouths moving with an intensity you’ve never experienced before. Without thinking, you let your body take full control, not second-guessing any natural movement. So you let your hand find its way to the nape of Taehyung’s hair, delicately pulling at the ends until his neck is forced back and a moan ripples through his throat. It was so unexpected and out of character, but you liked having this control.

It doesn’t last long. Taehyung quickly comes to his senses and knocks you onto your back, pushing you with one hand on your chest. He chuckles low and menacingly, his eyes staring deep into yours.

“What did we say about touching?” His voice is so low you swear you can feel it rumbling in your chest.

Taehyung doesn’t allow you enough time to answer. Before you can even open your mouth, his tongue is attached to your lips.

But not the lips on your face.

Your eyes immediately roll back as his tongue writes beautiful nothingness against your cunt and you desperately want to reach out and grip his hair again. By some sheer force of will, you’re able to restrain yourself and settle for gripping the sheets instead.

The tongue movements start slow, but it seems you’re not the only impatient one here. Taehyung picks up speed as he laps up your juices, his hand snaking up to insert a few digits inside you. His other hand is gripping one of your hips, his entire forearm pressing against your pelvic bone, holding you into place. His grip on you only seems to make your body want to shake more.

“You that close already, baby?” Taehyung lifts his head up for a moment, your juices glistening on his cheekbones and the tip of his nose. It seems like a sight you would only have in your dreams. It’s hard to believe this is happening in real life.

“Answer me,” he commands, but there’s a tinge of softness behind his words.

“I can’t help it.” You pant out, “Been building up all these years now. I could have came just by you touching my shoulder.”

Taehyung chuckles at this, slowly pumping his fingers in and out of you.

“You can cum whenever you want, baby. Daddy’s not going to stop you,” he says casually.

Almost...too casually.

But you don’t think twice, you’re too tired to think twice. Quiet moans slip past your lips and Taehyung takes that as his cue. His fingers move faster, scissoring inside your body as his thumb swipes against your clit.

It’s almost too easy to come undone.

White hot heat spreads throughout your body as everything around you starts to shake. Taehyung is watching you with careful eyes as you orgasm the fastest you’ve ever orgasmed in your life.

Your breathing only gets heavier as you come back from your high. But then, a blissful pain makes your thigh muscles jolt, a new wave of uncontainable cries escape you.

“Daddy said he wouldn’t stop you if you wanted to cum,” Taehyung devilishly proclaims, his fingers moving faster than ever, “but that didn’t mean Daddy was going to stop.”

Your eyes shut tight as you pull at the sheets gripped tightly in your hands, too afraid to speak because of the moans you’re currently swallowing back. Small whimpers make it out as you desperately try to focus on anything other than the torture you’re going through.

“Aw, don’t be like that, baby,” Taehyung coes, focusing almost all of his attention on your clit now. “Let it all out. Daddy wants to hear your pretty voice.”

There are no logical thoughts left in your brain. All you know is that you’re desperately exhausted and it’s taking too much of your energy to fight against the natural cries your body wants to release as this overstimulation continues.

So, you let go.

“Fuck! Daddy that feels so good! I’m gonna come again- I’m gonna- I’m gonna-”

A small scream is all you can manage as the pressure in your core finally releases. You thought your previous orgasm was intense? Nothing will ever be able to top this one.

“Damn that was fucking sexy.” Taehyung stands and wipes his face with the back of his hand. Your legs are still trembling and it feels like every muscle in your body is frozen in place. Warm liquid coats your inner thighs and drips down onto your sheets.

“Did I just…?” You ask with shock. Taehyung laughs and nods his head, walking towards your door.

“Hell yeah you did. Have you ever squirted before?”

“Only once. But it never felt as good as that did,” you whisper, but Taehyung is already out of the room. Your eyes flutter shut, sleep threatening to take over.

Taehyung returns with a towel, throwing it so it lands right beside you.

“Goodnight, babygirl,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss your forehead.

“Wait!” You call out just as he reaches the doorway. “What about you?” You point at his very obvious erection.

Taehyung waves you off casually, “We’ll have plenty more nights in the future. But for now, sleep. Don’t worry about me.” He winks. “I can take care of myself just fine. Get some sleep. Goodnight, Y/n.”

Before Taehyung even closes the door, your eyes are shut, sleep finally welcoming you into its arms.

let me know what you think! :)

𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Hue and Cry IX

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), mild violence, male-iinduced anxiety

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: The first day of the tournament arrives.

Note: My pupper had surgery yesterday and it was my longer day of work for the week so lots going on. Also had some bad Chinese but managed to get this out before it came back up. Feel better now and I'll have a shorter day today.

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Lord Barnes’ mood did not improve in the days leading up to the first of the tournament. It grew colder in the capital and many feared the events would be cut short by an early winter. You didn’t care much either way. You had no interest in the sport or much of anything. You just abided the duke and in those times he left you alone, you laid in a void.

His want of you didn’t wane nor did your despair or the disgust you felt when he touched you. It was one thing to be a servant, to be a tool, a means to an end, but what he used you for now seemed little more than torture. He delighted in what he did, in how he made you suffer. Those times you remained unmoving and unfeeling angered him the most.

You dressed in yellow that morning. The horns announced the beginning of the tournament as you made your way to the stand amid the sea of guests. The wives, daughters, sons, mothers and fathers of those who would compete. You were out of place as you climbed the wooden steps between the benches and a green sleeve shot up to wave to you.

“Dearie!” May brushed past her husband to stop you at the end of their seat, “here, with us,” she insisted, “we did save you a place.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that,” you said quietly. You hadn’t seen her or her family since the night of the feast. Since Barnes had…

“I can’t have you sitting alone,” she trilled as she pulled you along with her and sat beside Lord Benjamin who bowed his head and issued a gentle greeting. “And I always longed for a daughter, you know? Peter’s a good boy but so troublesome. I did try to persuade him not to enter the lists but he just never stops.”

“The boy’s old enough,” Benjamin said, “when I was his age--”

“You married me,” May cut in, “a foolish decision indeed. He is on the roster for today. Sparring. I fear he might not make it past the early rounds but so long as he is not hurt.”

You nodded and covered your hands in your sleeves. Even with the fur-trimmed cloak Barnes allotted you, it was crisp. Your matching cap barely kept the cool air from your cheeks. Your leg shook from more than the cold as you recalled that Barnes was set to compete with the sword as well.

“A fine cape,” May commented as she touched the edge of your cloak, “with sleeves even.”

You looked down at the fawn-coloured garment that only allowed a peek of the canary yellow beneath. You fidgeted and kept your eyes on the field, “a gift,” you lied, well, maybe it wasn’t a lie, or maybe you’d bought it in sweat and tears.

Another horn blew and she quieted and clapped as all looked to the center of the arena. The wooden stands were hung in all shades of silk, the banners of each house, high and low, covered the rafters. By the end of the day, only one would remain. Lord Barnes’ blue and ivory flapped opposite your side and Benjamin pointed out his family's slender red and black crest amidst the panoply.

You were thankful for the distraction, not for you but for them. You didn’t know how many lies you could conjure or if you could keep the false smile on your lips. You clamped your hands together and watched a man in gold stroll out to the centre of the stadium with a cone to project his voice. You stood with May and Benjamin and the rest of the onlookers

“Fine ladies and gentlemen, princes, paupers, and everything in between, we welcome you in name of King Samuel to the Games of Goblets. For each competition, the victor is to be prized a goblet to bear as a symbol of his prestige. For the ax-throwing, bronze inlaid with amber, for the bow-and-arrow, silver set with citrine, for the melee, gold set with sapphire, and for the joust, a fine piece in gold set with opal and ruby.”

The crowd applauded and shouted. The man waited for them to quiet again, “This day, we begin with the melee, on the morrow, the axe, the next day, the arrow, and on the final day, we ride!”

Again, the audience grew rowdy and you were deafened by the cheers. The man laughed at the excitement and held up his hand for a final lull.

“Without further delay, let us begin. In our first round, the lower lords and the untested, before the second where they shall meet our season veterans, and so on…” he gauged the fervent tension of the people, “you will see me again upon the finale and perhaps you will be surprised by whoever stands with me.”

Again, the stand quaked with the energy of the people. You would have liked to sit but you stayed on your feet, afraid to draw unwanted attention. The first pair was announced but you didn’t watch. You stared at the sky or a rippling banner but had no interest in the games.

You only stopped to look as Peter’s name was called out and May grabbed your arm. She squealed as her nephew came out decked in his used armor, beaten out from its former user’s wear, and he unsheathed his sword to face his opponent. When the handkerchief was dropped, you were as stunned as his fellow competitor and the crowd by his swiftness. You’d never seen anyone move so fast, and in at least twenty pounds of armor.

The crowd awoke from their awe and cheered as his sword beat against the other man’s suit with tinks and tunks. It was like a bell, ding, ding, ding. It wasn’t until the other man was on his knees that the spar was ceased. Peter was declared the plain winner and sent on to wait for his next engagement. May wiped away tears of joy and Benjamin grumbled his approval.

You smiled, just a little. You were happy for Peter. You’d seen how joyful he was, he was likely dancing behind the curtain right now.

🏰

It wasn’t until the second round that Lord Barnes was introduced. He walked out fully armoured like any other combatant but his left arm was permanently bent, a shield strapped to it as he gripped his pommel in his right hand. He showed his steel and faced his match. He dealt hard and heavy blows until his opponent was on his back.

You shuddered at his unboasting victory as he wasn’t even patient enough to hear himself declared the winner. You touched your cold cheeks and puffed into the bitter air. The bodies around you warmed the stands but you were chilled to the core.

Peter appeared again in the second, then the third, fourth, and to his aunt and uncle’s delight, he soldiered onto the final. To your fear, he was to meet Lord Barnes. You tried not to squirm, not to show how nervous you were for Peter. You thought of running down and begging him to withdraw but what could you say? If anything, you’d both be worse for it.

As the last two banners were presented to the crowd, you sensed movement to your right. A familiar head of blond hair approached and the tall duke pushed past the row of people along the bench. Lord Rogers smirked as he came close, his sweaty hair drooping down his forehead from his last bout, the one he’d lost to his closest friend.

“Ah, I found you,” he said, “lady.”

You felt May peek past you and you gave a meek “my lord” as he stood close. He looked around you at the older couple.

“You have friends,” he stated, “please, do introduce us.”

You looked down and chewed your lip. You turned slowly to May and Benjamin, the latter peering past her only as he was torn from his fixation on the field.

“Lord Benjamin and Lady May Parker, baron and baroness,” you rubbed your hands together nervously, “Lord Steven Rogers, duke of Astrens.”

“Oh, we’ve heard of him,” May chirped, “my lord, it is an honour.”

“Indeed,” Benjamin agreed, “my lady, you did not inform of us of your lofty friends.”

“She is modest,” Rogers intoned, “we met by chance, really, through a common acquaintance.”

“You were skillful on the field, it is a pity you were bested,” May said.

“Very pitiful, I did put some gold on you, Lord Rogers,” Benjamin added, “alas it was a fine showing.”

“Wasn’t it?” he turned to stand with his arm pressed to yours, much too close for your liking, “however this one should be intriguing.”

“It’s our boy,” Benjamin said, “and your friend, my lord.”

“Perhaps you’d take another bet?” Rogers countered.

“I’ve lost enough this day,” Benjamin snorted, “I’d rather watch and be pleasantly surprised than paupered.”

“Prudence is wise but always so boring,” Rogers mused.

As the lower of the lords, Parker was announced first and you were saved from more uncomfortable banter by the man in grey. Rogers nudged you and bent as the introductions went long as the man with cone went into detail about the day’s fights all the way to the present match.

“I did look fine out there, didn’t I?” he whispered, “good form, even if I did lose. Barnes is in a mood and we both know that makes him… unpredictable.”

You lowered your head, “my lord.”

“You are quiet since last we met,” he remarked, “perhaps your thoughts linger on how else to use your mouth?”

You squirmed and stared at the competitors as they awaited their signal. Rogers laughed and stood straight as he focused on the field in kind. He played with your sleeve and tugged your arm down. He caressed the back of your hand and stepped even closer.

“When he wins, he might just be cheerful enough to share in his celebrations, hmm?” he said under his breath.

The gold cloth was dropped and the two men circled each other, eyeing their opponent cautiously. Barnes was the first to act but was evaded by the younger man. He didn’t not falter however as he swung again. Peter rolled under the strike and met it with his own steel, batting it away so that it nearly struck its holder.

Barnes dodged that time, then the boy spun again. They danced around each other, both swift, both calculating, both determined. Steel met steel but never that which clothed the fighters. May grabbed your other wrist as she held her breath.

Barnes laid a hit across Peter’s chestplate that made him stagger but he turned it into another lithe evasion. He snaked around the higher lord and hammered his false arm. The shield cracked in half and Peter ducked again.

Barnes was angry as he stabbed out. His blade was shoved away again and Peter jumped over the foot that tried to trip him up, a true achievement in armor.

You realised as Barnes laid a flurry of blows at the air that he was angry. The crowd silenced as the realisation fell over them and they watched as time seemed to slow. The duke was losing and he was enraged.

Peter jabbed the other man’s chest plated with his sword then hit his true arm. The sword bobbled in Barnes’ grip but he regained his hold on it. Too slow as Parker struck over and over, throwing him off balance, and sweeping him off his feet with a low lunge.

As Barnes clattered onto his back, the breath went out of him and every other person in the stadium. The man in grey shook away his shock and finally stepped forward.

“Our victor!” he grabbed Peter’s arm and raised it, “the Lord Parker!”

May hopped up and down and hugged her husband. Steve tutted and shook his head. Your eyes clung to Barnes as he sat up, forgotten in the dirt. His left arm was stuck at an angle away from his body and he reached up to force it back down.

Peter offered him his hand and was ignored. Barnes sheathed his sword and offered a curt bow before he exited. Rogers’ hand crawled up your arm and he gripped you. “Well, looks like we both will suffer his loss.”

For once, he spoke the truth.

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fredshufflepuff · 3 years

Note

Could you do one where Draco spills some wine on the readers stomach and teasingly licks watching the reader squirm. And maybe some boob play and smut? Agajkshakk

accidents || d.m ✧˖*°࿐

summary: draco accidentally spills champagne on you, giving him an excuse to fuck you.

warnings: public sex, exhibition, language, nipple play, slight choking, if i missed anything please let me know!

word count: 1,001

“beautiful night, isn’t it dray?” you asked while staring across the balcony, the twinkling stars above blanketing a feeling of peace and comfort in the air.

“yes, but there’s a much more pleasing sight in front of me” he answered, voice low and grumbled as you blushed at his words.

you and draco were currently sitting outside on your seventh story hotel balcony, this week actually being your guy’s anniversary- so of course draco had to go all out.

it wasn’t any normal hotel either.

your room was a beautiful monochrome color, soft colors of pink and white complimenting each other on the bed and curtains.

not to mention the plate of chocolate covered strawberries and bottle of champagne that was waiting for you when you arrived.

draco had poured that bottle of champagne for you, blackberry lavender, the taste sweet on your tongue as the two of you bathed in relaxation.

“thank you again draco, this has been amazing” you smile, a moment of comfortable silence now lifted as he turned his gaze to you.

“only the best for my princess” he grinned, taking a small sip from his glass before leaning towards you.

you did the same, his lips capturing yours in a passionate kiss as the taste of champagne seeped into your mouth.

draco’s tongue swiped across your own before pulling back slowly, his teeth caught between your bottom lip- pulling it down before letting go with a ‘pop.’

his glass leaned towards your body quickly, the liquid slipping onto your white robe and slipping down your chest.

“draco!” you scolded, pulling away with a scowl on you face.

the mauve colored champagne stained your robe immediately, only making things worse since you were bare underneath.

“oops” he shrugged, his voice unapologetic as he then stood up. his fingers hooked around the collar of your robe, slowly slipping it off as you gasped quietly at the sudden coldness.

“draco, what if someone sees?” you mumbled, your face heating up as you tried your best to cover yourself, the blonde tsking in disapproval as he pulled your hands away.

“it’s dark, darling. plus, no ones up at this time” he assured, his long fingers circling your bare breasts as chills went down your spine.

his eyes locked with the colored liquid that was poured over your skin, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he quickly lowered himself down to you.

you expected him to kiss you, but instead his lips met your breasts.

a soft moan left your mouth as your eyes flew shut, draco sucking gently on your nipple before pulling away with a grin, his tongue then dragging up through the valley of your breasts.

“d-draco” you breathed out, his head lowering down as his mouth left wet kisses on your skin, cleaning up the sticky mess but also giving himself a drink.

“tell me to stop and i will” he mumbled, words muffled by his mouth attached to your stomach but you could still hear him perfectly.

“do you want me to stop?”

“no” you said, shaking your head in reassurance as the pool of wetness between your thighs started to increase, you were aching for him to continue.

his large hand gripped your breast roughly, a gasp falling from your lips as he then stood you up. your hands pressed against the railing of the balcony, draco bending your naked body over into any position he pleased.

"draco" you whined, both his hands kneading at your breasts, his fingertips digging into the soft flesh.

"what, darling?" he asked, lips leaving wet kisses along your shoulder blade at a painfully slow pace. draco was always rough with you in bed—straight to the point, so him being all soft and slow right now was making you impatient.

"use your big girl words."

you let your head drop forward when he pinched your nipples, twisting and pulling them between his fingers.

"please fuck me, i...i-i can't wait any longer" you begged, rubbing your thighs together in desperation. draco caught on to your little action, moving his knee forward to separate your legs, "don't make me angry."

"i'm sorry i just need you" you apologized, one of draco's hands leaving your breast to grip your chin, angling your head back up roughly.

"that's a good girl" draco praised, a hint of mockery laced in his words. his robe suddenly fell to his feet as his erect cock sprung out, a low groan falling from his lips as the tip hit his lower abdomen.

"now you're gonna stay nice and quiet for me, yeah?" he said, lining himself in front of your entrance and running down your wet folds, a tiny moan falling from your lips.

"don't need eyes on us, although, that would be hot" he whispered it your ear, shoving himself entirely into you right after.

your walls clamped down on his length immediately, a feeling of both pain and pleasure crashing over your body like a wave.

"fuck!" you cried out, head falling once again as he wasted no time in pounding into you, your ass jiggling with each thrust he gave you.

his hand came around and gripped your chin, his fingers forcing their way into your mouth to keep you quiet.

"good girl..." he mumbled, biting on his bottom lip to keep in his moans. tears were forming in your eyes as the lewd sounds of skin slapping and grunts filled the air.

"always have and always will take me this good" he grunted, keeping his fingers down your throat while his other hand gripped your breast, using that as leverage and to keep you in place.

"right?"

he squeezed your boob tightly in his hand, forcing you to answer his question as you quickly nodded, head frantically shaking up and down.

"y-yes, draco" you moaned out, voice slightly muffled from his fingers being so deep into your mouth, but draco could still understand- just seeing you like this, sucking and choking around his fingers made him feel powerful.

"always have and always will."

🏷 @eunoniaa @xlauren-malfoyx @90smalfoy @whipped-for-the-weasley-twins

#draco fanfiction #draco fic #draco imagine #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco x reader #draco x y/n #harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy smut #draco smut #harry potter smut

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zemosreader · 3 years

Text

want you to stay ⎛ oneshot ⎠

MAIN PAIRING: Zemo x reader.

summary: if you had known that Zemo was as lonely as you, perhaps you would have invited him over more often, every night even. if you'd known he only came over occasionally to keep up a false air of casualty, you might have called his bluff.

warnings: none.

word count: 1.7k

MASTERLIST

“Why are you here?” you watched your words heat the frigid night air before your breath spindled away like a wisp of smoke.

You didn’t wait for a response, leaving the door open behind you as you stepped back inside. It was as close as you could get to inviting him in, but you knew he’d come anyway. He always did.

You made it all the way to the kitchen, past your darkened living room and the shadowy stairs, without the echo of a second pair of footsteps. You pulled two mugs from the cupboard to the sound of the front door closing. You listened to the familiar sound of Zemo’s heavy shoes trudging towards the light, all too settled yet all too loud.

“I wanted attention.”

You snorted at his bluntness. When didn’t he want attention? When didn’t Helmut Zemo enter a room and demand all the attention in it. He was starved for it.

You ignored him while you made your tea. Could you really ignore him though? Truly? You stirred three spoonfuls of honey into Zemo’s tea because that’s how he takes it. That’s why you bought honey and keep it in your kitchen. You didn’t actually care for honey. You stirred two spoonfuls of sugar into yours.

“The baron life not entertaining enough for you?” you quipped with a false air of lightness, but when you turned your head he wasn’t there. You couldn’t force your heart not to speed up at his absence. You felt the sudden loneliness again with a pang. You were alone.

You steadied your breath enough that your voice wouldn’t quiver when you called “Helmut?” into the emptiness.

He emerged from the illuminated stairwell, a half-amused smirk playing at his lips. “You missed me?”

When you didn’t answer he continued, his smirk begrudgingly sliding from his mouth like honey from a teaspoon, “You keep it too dark in here.”

You gave him a shrug with his tea. What could you say? The truth? I don’t like shedding light on the fact that this house doesn’t feel like home.

The drawer of Zemo's things in your bedroom was crammed with hair products and cologne and little bits of him to the point of bursting. Your clothes barely filled your drawers. You couldn’t remember what your favorite perfume smelled like. Did you even have one? You liked the smell of his aftershave. You supposed that didn’t count.

You hadn’t hung a single picture on the walls or properly stocked the kitchen with more than tea, coffee, and take away menus.

“I’ve gotten used to it.” It wasn’t a lie. Coming home to solitude and silence wasn’t a comfort, but it was a routine.

“You haven’t been around in a while,” you tried prompting, despite knowing Zemo wouldn’t tell you what he did when he wasn’t with you. Spending nights with Zemo wasn’t a routine, but it was a comfort.

“I was waiting for an invitation,” he snarked. It earned him a smile. Half a smile? It made your lip twitch.

If you had known that Zemo was as lonely as you, perhaps you would have invited him over more often, every night even. If you'd known he only came over occasionally to keep up a false air of casualty, you might have called his bluff. If Zemo had told you he felt more at home in your dim, drafty little house than he ever had in all his life at his old home, you might have invited him to stay, permanently.

But, as it was, both of you were ignorant to the other’s longing for companionship that you always sought out in each other.

Zemo set down the still full mug, already cold, already leeched of any warmth it had to offer.

The two of you slipped up the stairs without a sound, as if you were sneaking around, as if you were a secret even the house shouldn’t know. Of course, everyone knew. They found out slowly. You made Sharon and Natasha swear not to tell a soul. The whiskey confessed for Zemo over drinks with Sam and Bucky. Natasha had to tell Clint. Sam had to tell Rhodey. Sharon had to tell Wanda. Bucky had to tell Steve. And tell and tell and tell until there was no one left to tell. But still, it’s a secret.

You wouldn’t have sex. Sometimes you did. Sometimes you straddled Zemo and moved your hips with the slow sureness of someone who isn’t in a rush to finish and is happy to take their time teasing soft moans from their partner. Other times Zemo bent you over the arm of your reading chair and pretended not to notice that you always got distracted studying the spines of the books on your shelf, no doubt thinking about how you should reorganize them after he left. He pretended he didn’t find it endearing. He never mentioned that your book shelf was rearranged.

No. Tonight Helmut said he wanted attention. So you would curl up in bed and fall asleep to the sound of each other breathing, not through the phone.

Zemo waited until you were pretending to be asleep to kiss your forehead. You considered opening your eyes and kissing him back, but decided against it. You told yourself that he’s just lonely tonight. He only wants attention tonight. You reminded youself that he would be gone in the morning. He was always gone in the morning.

You weren't sure when you stopped pretending and finally fell asleep.

The familiar yet unexpected pressure around your waist made your stomach drop. You gasped and your eyes shot open in panic to...to...nothing? Or, not nothing, to Zemo. To an arm around your waist. To the the most startling and most startled pair of brown eyes you'd ever seen.

“What’s wrong?” His surrounding grip on your body tightened protectively. No, not protectively, you told yourself, just instinctively.

“What time is it?” you asked. Zemo wondered then if you had somewhere to be in the morning and if he made a mistake staying the night. You wondered, did Helmut stay the night?

Before he could answer you found your bearings. You saw the sun peaking through the gaps in the curtains and saw the very discreet, backpack Zemo must have had with him when he came last night. Oh! That must be why he went upstairs as soon as he got here, you realized, to drop his overnight bag in your room.

You were right of course. Except that Zemo also had to make sure you wouldn’t see his backpack at all, just in case he got scared and changed his mind. Or you didn’t want him overnight.

“You stayed the night.” you weren't sure if it was a question or a statement of fact. It sounded like both to your ears.

Unsure how to answer, Zemo nodded. He sighed with relief when you closed your eyes and curled into his body like a puzzle piece sliding into place. He kissed your forehead, and let you feel his smile against your skin.

You didn’t open your eyes. You held on as if your bare hands could catch smoke. You told yourself this didn’t change a thing and he’d still leave soon and you’d be alone when he did. You held him and waited. Waited for the feel of bed dipping to one side and waited the sound of the door closing and waited the ache of abandonment. Waited and waited and waited. But he didn’t move.

You opened your eyes to check and he gave you his signature smirk.

“You’re...” you swirled your options around with your tongue, struggling to choose your next words. “staying?”

Zemo's smirk fell. Did you want him to stay? He should have asked. But how could he bring up without sounding like...like...he wasn’t sure. Like something he didn’t want to sound like.

“Do you want me to?”

Questions about how long and what this meant swirled dizzyingly through both of your heads.

He was sure you’d say no, that he’d made a huge mistake. You were sure this was still temporary, that a few more hours in the morning wouldn’t change anything.

You rested your head on Zemo's chest and closed your eyes again, without giving him an answer, or perhaps that was your answer. Either way you were sure you’d wake to him slipping out of bed.

But you didn’t. You woke to him fast asleep under you. You reminded yourself he’d leave soon. Kissed his forehead. And slipped downstairs to the kitchen.

Last night’s tea was still on the counter, disgusting and cold. You debated with yourself whether to spill it out or microwave it. Then you debated with yourself whether to microwave both mugs or just your own.

The beeping of the microwave must have woken Zemo because he came downstairs just as you were pulling out two mugs of old, reheated tea. He plucked his own from your hand without a word and sipped it.

You studied him in boxer shorts and bed head. He looked nice in the morning. You could get used to seeing it.

“You’re staying?” you asked again.

He raised a questioning eyebrow at you. Zemo needed to know if you meant for the day or until tonight so he could have sex with you properly, or if, he dared to hope, you meant you wanted him to stay.

“Do you want me to?”

Yes. You knew the answer without having to think about it. Yet, you didn’t know how to answer the question.

“Yes?” Helmut stepped closer. Into your personal space. He brushed a curl behind your ear and you realized you were nodding yes even when you hadn’t said it yet.

Zemo's hand steadied your head and pressed warmth from his mug into your cheek.

“You want me to stay?” Zemo's voice was a whisper ghosting across the other side of you face. His breath smelled like mint and honey and you wanted to kiss him but you didn’t want him to disappear. He smelled like mint. Did he brush his teeth before he came downstairs? And you didn’t even like honey.

“Stay?” you repeated.

He wasn’t sure it was a yes but it was enough to calm his anxiety that you'd reject him, at least for now.

You wanted to tell him you’d always want him. You never wanted him to go. But that might scare him off. Casual. You’re casual. You nodded and you both sat down to drink your tea and look over the takeaway menus to find a place that would deliver breakfast.

“I want you to stay.”

#baron zemo #baron zemo x reader #tfatws #zemo #zemo x reader #helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo #baron helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x you #baron zemo x y/n #zemo x you #zemo x y/n #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo x y/n #baron helmut zemo x you #baron helmut zemo x y/n

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fearnedorym · 2 years

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this is an extension of these two posts essentially. i haven’t written for anything before, let alone cr, but i am so sad to see dorian leave and the exu three, 3xu as i like to call them, really have a strangle hold on me. here’s 2k of fearnedorym angst. takes place immediately post c3e14, so spoilers ahead.

orym realized couldn’t sleep on her legs any more. not with dorian gone away. that would be wrong. he didn’t know what to do when they got back to the inn. he couldn’t bear to be alone, he didn’t want fearne to be alone, either. so they got into their room, finally free of the pitying glances and touches from the rest of their party, and they didn’t say anything. they’d barely spoken, not a word between each other, since the little girl with the blonde hair had plucked dorian’s ship out of the air and ran off with it.

ashton dragged everyone out to breakfast, and orym was grateful. he couldn’t bear to be in eshteross’s manner for one more second. they went to the weary way, ashton and letters peeled off to heal, launda and imogen went back to the windowed wall, and chetney stared at his mug of ale blankly. the little man was sad. for all the shit he gave dorian, orym could tell he was going to miss their the bard.

“chetney, do you--” fearne’s soft-spoken voice was even softer than usual. it warbled, and chetney looked up from where he remained at their breakfast table at the weary way, his big gnome eyes filled with sadness.

“i’m gonna go to my room, fuck,” he said, sliding off his seat and muttering as he skittered away and up the stairs.

fearne turned to orym. “well, eshteross said to get some rest and i just wondered... i wondered if he wanted to maybe be in our room since, you know...” she looked away as she trailed off, overwhelmed.

dorian’s not dead. no one is in mourning.

orym raised a hand to her arm. “he needs some time.”

fearne folded her hands on the table, still looking down. she was exhausted. he could tell. they hadn’t slept at all, instead choosing to spend their final last moments the night with dorian in the living room of the eshteross estate. they talked and drank, and watched the sun barely start to lighten the canvased high windows in the house. orym had night watches before. staying up was something he could do, easy. fearne, on the other hand, needed sleep. she just did. she wasn’t at her best when she was tired, and without dorian he they needed her at her best.

“c’mon.”

he tugged her gently, getting her up from the table and leading up the stairs to their room. orym somehow still had the key, and was pulling it up when fearne spoke up.

“what if we went out?,” she said. “what if we didn’t go to sleep and we just went out and saw the town and got drunk and--” she was gesticulating in that way she did when she was avoiding something, or telling a lie.

orym could already hear dorian’s wry-smiled reply. “now fearne...”

dorian wasn’t here. dorian couldn’t answer.

but he could.

“fearne,” he said, firm but gentle.

she huffed indignantly and looked down at him, but her eyes were so sad. he could tell she hadn’t done this before. a lot of feelings were new to fearne, and he was learning to work through them every day. dorian was better at it than he was.

he swung open the door and walked into the room, immediately drawing the curtains on the far wall. it helped fearne to sleep in near-darkness when she needed rest. he turned around and saw that she was still standing in the hallway, chewing on a fingernail and looking into the room apprehensively. he fought down a sigh, summoning patience, and moved forward. “fearne...”

she snapped her gaze down to meet his, her bottom lip shifting as she fought the urge to pout. she was trying to be brave, he could see it. but she didn’t have to be. that was his job. she was supposed to be beautiful and effervescent and so goddamn confusing and not sad, not like this. orym would’ve done anything to protect her from feeling like this, but he couldn’t hurl his body in front of loss. he couldn’t goad and parry grief. he’d sat in it long enough to know.

she walked into the room slowly, unsure, and tentatively sat down on the end of the bed. she awkwardly patted the mattress twice before folding her hands into her lap and looking at the floor, her hooves scuffing back and forth across the wood. she was trying to be still, which didn’t work for her because she’s a fidgeter, but orym didn’t want to disturb her. sometimes fearne felt like iron, but right now it felt like he was dealing with glass. dorian would know what to do. a suggestion, perhaps.

she looked like a mess, beautiful, as always, but a mess. there was dried black ooze still flecked on her skin, and her hair was stuck together, knotted around her horns. they’d left their ball clothes with eshteross and changed back into their normal wear, and fearne looked deflated in her usual pink and green.

orym didn’t have a suggestion, but he had a decision. he wasn’t like dorian.

he climbed up on the bed and using some spare cloth and a day-old pitcher of water on the bedside table, he wiped off fearne’s shoulders, neck, and back, trying to get rid of as much of emoth kade’s remnants as he could see.

it took fearne a moment to realize what he was doing, and she held her hair up to help him reach the back of her neck. “thank you, orym.” it came out as a whisper.

“no problem,” he said.

he unwrapped her until she was just in her shift, which was what she slept in, and he nudged her. “lay down.”

she paused. he knew she was tired. he knew she was fighting sleep, possibly for the same reason he was. but she was stubborn in even exhaustion. “oh,” she said, in her quaint little way, like she was realizing something for the first time. “but what about you?”

orym dumped some water back on the cloth and hopped down so fearne could see him, and ran the cloth over his arms and across his face, not a whole lot of anything coming off.

“i’m good,” he said, throwing the cloth back on to the small table.

“wait.”

fearne reached down and brushed gently under his eye, getting something he probably couldn’t see, and let her hand move down and around to cup the side of his face. her touch was warm and he wanted so badly to lean into it, to close his eyes and nuzzle in and take the comfort offered in her touch. instead, he nodded towards the pillows at the head board. “lay down.”

she scooted back tentatively and laid down on her side, tucking one arm under a pillow. orym remained on the floor, unsure of what to do. they were missing a middle spoon, dorian would say big. the teasing from the group before dorian left was brief but true. it had been the three of them for so long, packed into tiny, shitty inn beds, smushing onto a single bed roll, sharing an airship cabin, choosing to forego separate offerings at the lodge housing in zephrah in favor of the same room in the same bed.

their equation was missing its solution.

orym was tired, too, more than he would admit, and he was trying to just think about the next thing, not look back dorian. but there was nothing else to think about dorian. they were at a stand still for a moment, an impasse, a pause, and it gave orym’s thoughts time to catch up with him dorian. there was no need to take watch. he didn’t need to throw himself over fearne and dorian if dorian wasn’t there.

he climbed up on the bed and sat at the end. maybe he’d curl up right there. give fearne some space. she slept like the dead most nights, a reliable pillow. it felt like there was a hole next to fearne, and he certainly couldn’t fill it.

maybe he’d polish his sword, refit his armor, do something else while she sl--

“orym?” fearne’s voice sounded tight, as he looked over his shoulder, she was staring right at him.

“yes?”

she silently tapped the pillow across from her. he froze. that was dorian’s spot. he looked from her face to her hand and back to her face, and he realized she was crying.

“fearne...” he crawled up to her while she furiously wiped her tears away.

“i don’t like this feeling,” she said, barely above a whisper. she raised a hand above her heart. “it hurts.”

his heart broke for her. he forgot other people didn’t constantly live like this, that the pain stopped and started for some and was completely new for others. he laid down across from her, anything to ease her suffering in this moment, and looked into her eyes. her long lashes had tears on them like dew, and something in his chest was spurned, stirring up the indescribable feeling he got when he was with his partners friends almost lovers companions companion.

it was just the two of them now, just him and fearne, despite the kiss that still lingered on his forehead hours later. as he laid down, he noticed the room lacked color, light, warmth. it wasn’t devoid, but it was less.

where was dorian now? already on the ship? already over the ocean? too far to catch up to. maybe it was best, the things left unsaid. it had been too good to be true, and probably never meant to be. those things don’t happen to soldiers. those things--

“what do we do?” fearne said, pulling orym out of his head. “i mean, with him gone... i just don’t know. we still have your thing to do, but once it’s done, we can go get him, right? we can go back to tal’dorei, and we can find dorian, and we can... we...”

he didn’t want to break her heart any further, tell her that’s not how it works, how things were rarely ever that simple, that sometimes ships pass, so he brushed some of her hair behind her ear and scooted closer. “we’ll be fine. it’ll be okay.”

“well, i don’t, i just don’t know. i don’t know how we’ll be,” she said, more bitter than he’d ever heard her, even when she snapped at cyrus last night. she was so tired. he was too.

“get some sleep,” he said. “c’mon, just close your eyes. you’ll feel better.”

fearne huffed but obliged, reaching forward to grab orym since she didn’t have dorian to hold. he let it happen. he could do this once. he could get tangled up, now that the danger had passed, now that what he wanted and he was afraid of was no longer an option. he flipped around so that he was at least facing the door, his sword resting just out of vision against the bed.

as fearne’s breathing evened, orym closed his eyes, grateful for the warmth and the comfort of her arm around him. he steeled his resolve. never again would he let himself feel this way, let his friends feel this way. he would fight, kill, and die for it.

there was nothing he could do to stop dorian from walking out of his life, so he would die to keep fearne. he would do this one thing. it was the only thing he was good at. he was a fighter, and a protector. trying to let himself have something he shouldn’t only ended in pain. he’d do well to remember his creed and his purpose.

the tempest guard slept closest to the door. the tempest guard were always on the ready. the tempest guard kept the longest watch. it was an honor to serve. it was an honor to protect. they would give their life to this, if necessary. yes, they would.

#cr spoilers #fearnedorym #dorym #orym #fearne #dorian #bh #c3 #cr #a little fic #fic #no beta we die like men

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

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Crimson Ties (Bela Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 2

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village

Rating: T for language and mild medical drama

Warnings: Typical Vampire shenanigans

Genre: Hurt + comfort

Summary: Bela is somewhat unprepared to deal with a soulmate who has no clue about her condition, her family, or any of the village's secrets. Thankfully, her sister Cassandra is more than willing to be a bad example. Also there's some fluff.

Notes: For reference, each of my soulmate stories take place in their own contained timeline, since they each involve different types of soulmates. So in this one, Cass doesn't currently have a soulmate.

Previous Chapters: 1: Stem the Flow

2: Tangled Strands

A gentle humming fills the space around you, as fingers slowly run through your hair. As far as you can tell you had fallen back asleep, for several hours, and you were just now waking back up. No longer holding you down, your soulmate is curled up next to you. There’s still a needle in your arm, much to your irritation, but now you can finally see what it’s connected to: An IV for a transfusion. Explains why I’m feeling so much better than before, you think. Then you’re turning your head to the other side, eager to finally get a good look at your soulmate. Instantly you’re blushing, tongue tying itself into a knot, because wow are you lucky.

“Feeling any better?” She asked, as soon as your gaze met hers. You try to stutter out a confirmation, but you’re too distracted by the soft curve of her smile to speak, and barely even manage a nod. That beautiful smile grows wider in response. “Good. I couldn’t stand the thought of you suffering more, after what you’ve already been through.” Now her smile fades, and she looks away for a few moments. Watching it makes your heart ache. So you swallow the lump in your throat, willing yourself to relax, before trying a little comforting of your own.

“I am safe now, am I not? Moreso, we have too much to talk about for us to dwell on the ill circumstances of our introduction. Let us cherish this time, in respite, with our hearts open wide to one another,” you said, donning your softest smile. Somehow your words fulfill their purpose, and your soulmate is once again grinning. Slowly she leans forward to rest her forehead against yours. Then she’s speaking, voice as smooth as the sheets you lay on.

“You are right, of course. I simply wish I could have saved you sooner,” she replied, tone betraying the sadness that her expression otherwise hid. Before you can protest, she continues talking, and you soon forget all about your qualms. “To think I don’t even know your name yet… nor you mine, I suppose. Let’s remedy that, yes? I am Bela Dimitrescu.” Something about her last name feels familiar to you, but not to the point of clear recognition. Instead of inquiring, you return her favor, giving her your own name. She repeats it back a few times, letting the syllables roll off her tongue, and you feel your heart skip a few beats. “A lovely name for a lovely soul, perfectly paired.”

A pause, followed by Bela reaching out to examine your IV. Following her gaze, you turn to the metal hook adjacent to the bed, where a blood bag hangs. Only a few drops remain inside. Just as when you first awoke, Bela gives a soft hum, then rises into a sitting position. Your first instinct is to copy the motion, and you’re relieved when (this time) she doesn’t push you back down. Both of you quietly inch your hands closer until they’re laid on top of each other.

“I wish I knew more about medicine, but unfortunately my family is more experienced in the creation of wounds than the treatment of them,” Bela said, scowling. Confused, you tilt your head at a slight angle, watching her with interest. Am I supposed to know who she’s referring to? My memories of the past couple days are still hazy, you think. “Do… do you remember how you ended up in the dungeon? I know you wanted to speak of happier things, and we can, soon. It’s just… Knowing how you arrived here may help me deal with the consequences of freeing you. Mother will be dreadfully upset that I’ve interrupted a draining, even if we are soulmates.”

“Wait, are you saying…? The intimidating giantess who strung me up and attempted to bleed me dry… is your mother?” You asked, jaw nearly dropping to the floor. This was an unexpected development, for sure.

“You didn’t know?” Bela replied, eyes going wide for a moment. Clearly she wouldn’t have said anything if she realized you weren’t already aware. Suddenly the tension in the room is palpable, with an uncomfortable silence overtaking the two of you. In the moment, you cannot even bring yourself to look at Bela, too stunned by this new knowledge. Eventually she breaks the silence, voice sounding unsure for once. “I realize that this is a lot to take in, if you need time to process it, I… I can go. But you need to understand that our situation is far more complicated than it might appear. We cannot survive without the blood of others- it is what sustains us when nothing else can.”

Now you’re staring at her like she’s crazy, and she’s standing up, moving to the other side of the room. She draws back a curtain, gazing out into the snow covered hills. Every muscle in your body is urging you to run while she’s distracted. Thread of fate be damned, this went far beyond anything you had ever imagined having to deal with. You come so close to ripping the IV right out of your arm. But a gentle tug on your soul string makes you pause, remembering all the times this bond gave you hope in dark times. Had she felt the same way, all these years? What had she gone through, in this absurd castle, on the very edges of civilization? You pull on the red thread, feeling a wave of composure wash over you.

“It appears there is much I need to learn. But is that not the very nature of our connection? We know, simply, that we are bound to each other, though we know not what shapes our souls take so that we might put them together, nor even what roles we must play. I cannot say that I understand your plight, my dear, but I will try, as is my obligation, and my honor,” you said, wishing you could hold her, and cursing your IV. As soon as the first word leaves your mouth, Bela is turning around, watching you with a bittersweet expression. Once you’re done she’s moving closer, as if reading your mind, extending a hand to cup your cheek. Then she leans forward to press a brief kiss to your forehead. “Oh, how I have longed for this- to be with you, to get to know you.”

“As did I,” she murmured. You can’t help but lean into her touch, closing your eyes and enjoying the moment. “Perhaps I should introduce you to my family? I imagine you’ll be needing breakfast anyway, and bringing human food back to my quarters would raise more suspicion than I’d like.” Well, the moment couldn’t last forever, could it?

“Only if you promise that your mother won’t suspend me by my wrists again. Or by any other part of me. Shall we simply put suspension off the table altogether?” You asked, half teasing. To be entirely honest, you were equally worried about Bela’s sisters. Well, the people you had heard other prisoners whispering about, who were the daughters of the giantess, and by connecting a few dots were also, presumably, Bela’s sisters. Apparently they preferred to play with their food. Unless, of course, Bela was one of the daughters you had heard about, and would have easily torn into you if not for your connection. Let’s not dwell on that concept, you think, glad to be distracted by your soulmate.

“I will not let anyone harm you anymore, my beloved. My mother would not stand so firmly in the way of my happiness,” Bela reassured, though you detected a hint of uncertainty in her tone. Still, there wasn’t much you could do other than trust her. “Now, let me take care of your bandages, then we’ll head downstairs…”

---------------------------------

“Who the fuck is this?” An unfamiliar voice asked, as you meandered down the corridor, arm around Bela for support. As soon as she hears the person speak, your soulmate is freezing in place, casting a worried glance over her shoulder. When you turn as well, you spot someone dressed almost identically to Bela. However, the woman wears a yellow pendant, as opposed to a red one, and her hair is a dark brown. It feels safe to assume that she’s one of the sisters you’ve heard about. Which understandably makes you nervous, to the point where you almost want to hide behind Bela. Instead, you stand tall, attempting to seem unfazed by either her presence or her vulgarity.

“Mind your manners, Cassandra,” Bela hissed, taking more of an aggressive stance than you had anticipated. “This, dear sister, is my soulmate. And if you even think about harming them, or getting in our way, I will tear you apart.” While you’re downright shocked at the intensity of Bela’s statement, her sister doesn’t look at all impressed, and eyes you with minimal interest. Better than looking at you with hatred, right? Apparently not, as Bela moves to stand between the two of you, eyes narrowed. There’s a clear stiffness in her posture that leaves you anxious. Cassandra seems to notice it as well, and laughs, before taking a few steps in your direction. Then your soulmate mimics the movement, forcing you to do so as well.

“They’re human,” Cassandra snapped, pausing to sniff the air and scowl. “Here I thought your soulmate would have to be special, if they’re to compare to your ego. You’re disappointed, aren’t you? Having to settle for this.” With that she shifts, flesh writhing, making your stomach churn as you watch her disintegrate into a cloud of… flies? What the hell is wrong with this family? Can Bela do that too? I hope not, you think. Soon you’re pulled from your thoughts, however, as the swarm circles around you, single insects occasionally surging forward to cut at your skin. But Bela is grabbing you by the sleeve and tugging you to her chest, moving against a wall so that her body shielded your own. Your eyes clamp shut as you shake in her arms. When the buzzing stops, it is quickly replaced with cruel laughter. “That fragile, hmm? I can’t wait to see what mother thinks. See you at breakfast, sister!”

Then the two of you are alone, still pressed against the wall, staying still until the sound of footsteps fade. You’re stunned, unsure of how to react. The fact that a few drops of blood roll down your cheek only makes things worse. Still, Bela managed to prevent you from getting too hurt, and the few wounds on your body are negligible. Ever filled with gratitude, you hold her close as you try to stutter out a few sentences.

“Is she always this hostile, or am I truly not what you had expected? No, pay me no mind, it hardly matters. Thank you for protecting me,” you whispered. In response, Bela gives you a little squeeze, then pulls back enough to wipe the blood from your face. There’s a hint of something odd in her expression, which you interpret to be related to her apparent ‘need for blood’. Thankfully, she is in perfect control, and does not frenzy the same way you had read about fictional vampires doing. But she does hesitate, words dying on her tongue, like there are a thousand things she wants to say, and no words to say them with. “It’s alright, my dear. Let’s just go to breakfast, like we planned, and hope your sister behaves better when supervised.”

Bela nods, quickly, before taking your hand in her own. Whatever awaited you in the dining room, the two of you would be ready. Hopefully.

#babe why aren't you this nice to ME #bela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu x reader #resident evil: village #re8 village #soulmate au #imagine bela's soulmate meeting cassandra's #they'd be very unlikely friends #cassandra would HATE how well behaved her soulmate would be #like #tumblr keeps rearranging the order of my tags???#I'll fix that later

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