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philistiniphagottini · 30 days

Note

16, 26, 65 and 78 from the smut prompts for aventurine plz? 👀

Hi Anon. Since you didn't specify, I chose female reader when doing this request. Thanks for dropping by, hope you enjoy.

Smut Prompts

Prompts 16 + 26 + 65 + 78

cw. smut, penetrative sex, lingerie, praise, mirror sex, pet names ((Aventurine loves to yap lol)), slow and sensual, implied chubby reader, fem! reader

"Look at you" Aventurine cooed softly against the shell of your ear. "My pretty baby is performing so well for me."

You stuffed your bottom lip between your teeth, chewing on the bruised skin as a spine-tingling shiver wracked your spine. You pressed your back against his sturdy chest, squirming in his lap as he blew cool air against your ear. A lazy smirk crawled over his lips as he caught the lobe between his teeth, radiant eyes shimmering with mirth as you continued to shiver from his touch. His fingers ghosted over your arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps to prickle along your flesh as warmth coiled low in the pit of your stomach. His slender digits hooked around one of the straps of your bra, toying with the flimsy material with a curl of his wrist.

"You look so beautiful, wrapped in lace" he whispered with a husky purr of your name. "I told you I had a good eye for these things."

His lips grazed the soft spot just under your ear, his hot breathing puffing against your perspiring skin and making every hair on the nape of your neck stand up in anticipation. You squeaked as he let go of the strap of your bra, letting it snap back against your skin with a satisfying sound. A salacious moan tickled the back of your throat as Aventurine’s hands continued to knead at your pliant body, pawing at you like a needy cat vying for your rapt attention. You finally let go of your kiss swollen lips as his hips pressed up into you, digging into the soft globes of your ass cheeks as his cock slipped a little deeper into your sopping entrance, your wet pussy snug and warm around him.

A hum bubbled up Aventurine’s throat as your lips parted around a sweet sigh of his name, long lashes brushing over your burning cheeks as your eyes threatened to slip close. Your hands clawed at the fraying edges of the carpet beneath you, head tipping back as you rested it against your lover’s sturdy shoulder.

"Aven…rine…"

Your head felt dizzy and you could barely think past the thick haze of lust fogging up your mind. Your blood simmered in your veins as the tips of your fingers turned numb, your legs quivering as Aventurine languidly rolled his hips against your rump, dragging his cock through your soused walls slow enough that you could feel every steadily pulsing vein lining his girth. A warm chuckle blew past his lips as his hands squeezed the soft pudge of your belly, fingers sinking into generous amounts of skin until it spilled over between his digits. He hooked his chin over your shoulder, his gaze lingering briefly at the apex of your thighs where his cock parted your creamy folds and disappeared between the silky lips.

"Am I making you feel good, baby?" Aventurine asked with a teasing lilt to his voice.

Your nails threatened to tear holes in the carpet beneath you as you nodded, your throat bobbing as you swallowed around a harsh moan.

"Yes" you breathed. "Feels so, so good."

Golden locks of Aventurine’s hair tickled your skin as he fondly rubbed his cheek against yours, his fingers dancing along your torso as he continued to coo gentle praises against your ear. Your breathing stuttered as he rubbed his cock a little deeper inside you, the tip pressing against a white, hot nerve that caused the hot coil inside you to twist tighter, thrashing around inside your gut like a caged animal gnawing at the bars of its enclosure. Your back curved into a beautiful arch as you offered up your chest to his waiting hands, your perfect tits eagerly bouncing into the warm palms of his hands. He smiled devilishly as he squeezed your breasts, deft fingers tugging at the perky tips of your nipples that just peeked over the top of your bra. You whined his name loudly, the tips of your ears burning red hot at the sound of your pussy slobbering so filthily around his cock. Your hips wriggled, pussy eagerly swallowing around his cock as he pressed up against a soft spot.

"Good girl" Aventurine praised. "Keep moving your hips just like that."

Unshed tears clung to the corners of your lashes as your lungs pinched in your chest, hands still trying to find purchase on something; anything to stop your mind from spiralling out of control so rapidly. Your hands finally found something solid to grab onto as Aventurine’s hands slipped down your waist, the leather material of his gloves setting every single nerve on edge as your hands curled around his knees, fingers clawing at his pants as you tried to hold on. Aventurine’s gaze flicked to the full-length mirror situated in front of you, your reflection almost glowing as he observed you from a different angle. He kept his eyes trained on your figure reflected in the mirror as his fingers pranced along the insides of your plush thighs, scooping up the beads of arousal that dripped down your shaking legs.

"Pretty girl, look in the mirror for me" Aventurine purred against your skin.

You shook your head once his words registered, your eyes shyly averting from the mirror just a few feet away. A frown tugged at his lips.

"Baby, come on, no need to be shy~"

He gently nudged his nose against your cheek, encouraging you further. Still, you refused, a soft noise of protest rumbling in your chest when your head was tipped in the direction of the mirror.

"Come on, do it for me. Pretty please?" Aventurine asked, his voice flowing like honey from his tongue. "Just a little peek. I want you to see how pretty you are."

Aventurine was acutely aware of how you viewed yourself. He knew you were deathly scared of mirrors, adamant to avoid seeing your reflection at any cost. A negative habit he was gently trying to coax you out of. You looked so lovely dolled up for him in lingerie. He just wanted you to have a little glimpse at the image he had the blessing to gaze upon every single day. Maybe if you did, you might just realise why he was so sickeningly, endearing, maddingly in love with you.

You swallowed thickly as you hesitantly tilted your head towards the mirror. Aventurine encouraged you further, nose pressed into your hair as he inhaled your scent and let it curl deep in his lungs with each deep breath he took. Your eyes traced over your figure in the mirror, quickly darting over yourself. You tried not to let your gaze linger on the places you loathed to see the most, instead, trying to appreciate how well the expensive lingerie that Aventurine hand picked himself perfectly hugged your curves and complimented you so well it rendered you speechless.

Your hips shuddered when Aventurine’s fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your panties, moving the fabric aside as your neglected clit was exposed to the cool air of the room. You hissed through clenched teeth as a shiver crawled down your back, heat still bubbling in your stomach and fanned into even hotter flames when Aventurine’s fingers traced the pretty pearl of your clit. Aventurine chuckled softly as his teeth nipped at your exposed neck, tongue following the prominent pulse of your neck as it jumped beneath the press of his mouth. Your eyes caught his in the reflection of the mirror, his glowing gaze almost hypnotic as you lost yourself in their alluring depths.

"See? Aren’t you the most beautiful thing in this known universe?"

The second your eyes strayed from his own and you caught a glimpse of your own flushed expression in the mirror, the trance was broken. A sudden wave of bashfulness shook you down to your core and without hesitation you buried your burning face in the crook of Aventurine’s neck. He couldn’t contain the fond chuckle that tickled his throat. He weaved his free hand in your hair, damp locks curling around his fingertips as he kissed the top of your head.

"Good girl. I’m proud of you. You did well."

He kissed the top of your head once more as you shivered in his lap.

"You alright baby girl?"

You nodded softly. "Hmm. Just…keep going. Want you to make me feel good."

It was just your way of asking for a distraction to empty your head of every single thought so you didn’t have to think anymore. Aventurine smiled.

"Oh, I can do that. I’ll make you feel so, so damn good."

A contented purr stirred in your chest as his fingers rubbed around the hood of your clit, playing with the sensitive nub with such attentiveness you’d think it was his favourite toy. Your hot breath became trapped in the crook of his neck as you moaned and sighed his name against his skin, fingers digging into his knees as the overwhelming bliss sparking in the pit of your stomach like fireworks threatened to consume you. Your plush walls squeezed him tighter, the slow push of his hips matching each sensual rub of his fingers over the hot little button at the top of your pussy. His eyes flicked back to the mirror as he panted, fixated on the way your tight pussy clenched every time he bottomed out as your arousal dribbled down the sides of his cock. The sight alone already had his body teetering on the razor thin edge of oblivion.

He cradled the back of your head as your teeth nipped along his throat, your lips as soft as the touch of rose petals as the swollen flesh just barely ghosted over the deep scars of his past marred into his flesh. He swallowed thickly, Adam’s apple bobbing as his pulse quickened. His grip in your hair tightened, unable to contain his sudden urge as he wrenched your head up to smothered your lips with his. You both shared a delighted moan as Aventurine’s tongue pried your lips apart, tasting the shape of your mouth as he hungrily swallowed your whimpers and mewls of ecstasy. He sucked on your tongue as the head of his cock brushed against the soft, gummy patch deep inside, making stars swirl in your vision as the pressure inside of you suddenly snapped.

Aventurine whispered praises against your parted lips as you writhed in his lap, coil in your stomach shattering into a million, tiny pieces as your veins were flooded with liquid relief. It felt like your heart was lodged in your throat, ears ringing as your pulse drummed loudly in your ears. The cant of your hips came to a halt as your velvety walls squeezed Aventurine’s cock so tight it felt like you were trying to suffocate him. He buried his boiling cock deeper in your constricting walls, lapping at your sweet saliva as your pussy drowned his cock with thin strands of translucent fluids. The hot, wet feeling made his dick twitch, teeth clamping down on your lip as a groan rumbled in his chest as the coil inside of him unravelled.

Warmth blossomed across your abdomen amidst your own pleasure high, hips jolting as Aventurine’s cock kicked inside you and painted your walls with thick, sticky ropes of white. Your legs snapped shut on instinct, keeping his hand trapped between your thighs as your pussy squeezed and milked him dry until you were filled to the brim and overflowing. Everything felt like a hazy blur when the lingering dregs of pleasure started to fizzle out. You parted from Aventurine’s succulent lips with a loud pop, air heavy in your lungs as you gulped down ragged gasps. You struggled to keep your eyes uncrossed and focused on him, body warm and feeling completely boneless as you relaxed further against him. A warm hum rumbled in his chest as he lazily curled his arm around your waist, hand rubbing your round belly as he kissed your cheek. He couldn’t even be bothered yet to pry your supple thighs apart and retrieve his other hand, prefer to keep it stuffed there as you warmed his cock.

"Such a good girl for me, my pretty baby. Are you feeling full?"

You nodded with a contented hum. "Ask me again in a few minutes."

Aventurine chuckled warmly as he pressed his lips to your sweaty temple. "Anything for my Princess."

#my writing #request #honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail smut #hsr smut #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader #aventurine smut #x reader #fem!reader #chubby reader

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bitchlessdino · 5 months

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Sexy DK request time: He's tied to the bed and you do a strip show for him, he can't touch you, can only see your sexy af self, you can take this anywhere you like- Sam @dkakapizzaboy

Pairing: husband of mistress seokmin x fem married!reader Genre: angst, smut, slight fluff Word count:7.7k tags: insecure seokmin, mutual infidelity, unprotective sex, sub!seokmin, dom!reader, strip teases, male bondage, mention of fem oral, blow jobs, "ma'am" svt member!husband, let me know if I’m missing any! Summary: With the mutual understanding being cheated on, Seokmin finds solace in you, the beautiful stranger with ties to man that ruined his marriaged, Fortunately, light peeks out of the most inconvenient of circumstance. author note: still on hiatus but finally got this ok. sorry for teh wait sam my arch nemesis, thank you my darling wife @wongyuseokie for beta reading 💗

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @goblinvern @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @cottoncheol @embrace-themagic @seokgyuu

Unknown number: hi. you may not know me but my wife knows your husband and I think they’re having an affair.

You've stared at the message for hours on end and just about lost your mind with every letter of every word. You could practically recite it without a beat, the sound of glass shattering in the distance every time you’re met at the end.

You didn’t believe it at first—part of the reason being you don’t want to—but it would logically explain his recent changes. The late nights. The woman’s perfume. The infrequent time at home.

You feel numb.

Buried in a weighted blanket of deceit and betrayal, you wallow in the depths of your sheets until the words seep into the deepest dark abyss of your chest, squeezing your heart until it feels like it pops. A few more notifications followed the initial, going off at a nervous pace. The sender's agitation is abundantly clear.

You think to ignore it. You think to forget whatever you read and go about your married life as normal, but it gnaws at you. A violating parasite crawls around the wrinkles of your brain, biting, chewing, and consuming your perturbed consciousness. It leaks out of you in tears, sorrow, and a pervasive bodily ache.

Eventually, your hand finds your phone thrown to the ground and claims it in your vice grip before reading the incoming messages.

Unknown number: I read her messages

Unknown number: it’s been months it looks like

Unknown number: me and her have been married for less than a year

Unknown number: I won’t be too affected by this

Unknown number: I think

Unknown number: but are you ok?

No. No, you weren’t.

Unknown number: if it’s ok, I’d like you to meet with me.

Unknown number: see the proof in person.

You know you'd be stupid to meet with a stranger you connected with through the phone. He could be a liar, murderer, stalker—you have no idea. However, if he's telling the honest truth, he'd be the only person right now who would understand your excruciating pain more than anyone else. He'd serve as proof that the life-sucking sensation coursing through your body is a sad reality, and facing that terrifies you.

However, reality manifests as a beautiful man. A beautiful man with a heart-shattering expression that makes you want to pick him up in the palms of your hands to tend to his invisible wounds.

You're perplexed. You weren’t sure if there was love that existed for you, but for him, love should’ve been guaranteed. He looks as if he deserves every star dedicated to him for every second he breathes. Every tear he shed. Every word he spoke. In another world, he’s someone’s muse, not someone’s victim of infidelity. Surely. Surely this was all some misunderstanding.

“Did you want that decaf?”

Your eyes flutter in his direction, registering the spoken words on his tongue. Sputter on your lips, you work the softness of your jaw in a gentle nod and swallow the words hitch down your throat. He splays a warm, but small smile, and gets up to head in the direction of the counter. His long, broad stature leans against the edge. His chest bellowing out of his diaphragm and out his lips, he softly mutters the drink orders to the cafe attendant.

Your eyes bat gently, observing him in slow motion, a coiling sensation in your gut. You exhale out of your nose in retreat, averting your gaze to your lap, jolting yourself out of the sudden fixation. You know you shouldn’t have been doing that. You have better self-control than that. Now was not the time for that.

His footsteps retreat toward you, and he settles your drink by your side of the table. Your eyes flit up at him, gaze descending as he modestly takes a seat across from you. His wide-toothed grin is polite but noticeably strained. "Thank you for meeting with me." His hands fiddle in his lap, visibly as disoriented as you are.

“I’m glad you texted me,” You respond cordially, “Those pictures were a hard pill to swallow…but I’m glad I saw them.”

He dryly chuckles, a solemn look of anguish etched on his face. "Yeah, I felt the same way."

Accepting the drink, you bring it against your lips. Despite being decaf, it proves as bitter as regular—an unexpected comfort, considering the usual presence of excess cream and sugar have felt overwhelming lately. The bitterness numbs your tongue, and you sense it traveling in a lump down your throat as you swallow.

"Sorry." His apology shakes you into clarity, his eyes quivering as they settle on you. "I'd seen photos of you—finding your husband, of course, because I didn't—um, okay. It's just strange to see you in front of me. Makes everything more..."

“Real,” You say, completing his sentence. “Yeah.”

His adam’s apple shifts in a nervous gulp. “How long were you together?”

“Five years. If you counted the last four,” you answer with a lingering chuckle. “I had an idea that’s what he was doing, but ideas are harmless until you’re true.”

“That’s—wow—impressive.”

You wave your hand dismissively. “Don’t. Considering the circumstances, it’s nothing to be proud about. If I had known earlier I would’ve shoved those papers in his face a long time ago.”

“But you’re so…strong. How do you get like that? After five years?”

You shrug, shrinking under his charged gaze, glistening in a sheen of genuine admiration. “Practice. If you stayed a little longer, you’d learn it too.”

“I don’t think I could’ve survived that.”

“Well, you contacted the spouse of the man sleeping with your wife. That’s pretty fucking strong.”

He’s bashful again, rubbing the back of his neck as he avoids your eyes. All he can do is nod in response, not used to attention so warm and encouraging. So unlike Ami.

He discovers that you are far less deserving of betrayal than he had imagined. Your eloquent and poised conversations impress him, and the admirable lightness in your solemn tone adds to your appeal. From the moment he became aware of your existence, he felt compelled to meet you. While he initially rationalized it as a civic duty, there's an underlying motive that continues to fester in selfish desire, even when the topic of divorce is raised.

“Can we do this again?” he suggests timidly, hopeful you’ll agree. "Until the papers are final, at least. It’s kind of freeing talking about this with someone in the same shoes.”

Your lips softly curl up at the ends. “I’d like that.”

There's a substantial list of tasks to tackle before everything is finalized. You imagine how grueling it’d be to navigate through this by yourself and appreciate you weren’t alone on this. Recognizing that he's undergoing the same steps in grieving his failed union, it feels almost instinctive to join forces. Partners in divorce, each navigating the end of each of their own unhappy marriages.

“Sorry, I just had to get something.”

You had come remarkably close, and the opportunity to accompany him home practically fell into your lap. Stepping into his space for the first time, you were immediately captivated by the photos adorning the walls, each one capturing her in a stunning, large white gown. In the enlarged picture on the wall, she radiates happiness, her joy undoubtedly amplified by standing next to Seokmin, who stands tall and sharp, his pride and happiness evident. As your eyes take in the scene, you find yourself amazed by the sheer elegance and warmth emanating from the photograph. A couple epitomizing love. So why—

“Found it,” he says, his fingers clutching the file between them. His gaze lands on your location, and as he registers the reason for your silence, he adds with a chuckle, “Oh, yeah. Ha-ha. That was really expensive.”

He approaches you with deliberate steps, both of you studying the wedding portrait together. "A thousand pictures, three hours editing, five hours of sifting through them, and a couple of grand later, this turned out to be the best one," he remarks. There's a hint of wry humor in his voice as he adds, "She jokes that it was the best thing to come out of this marriage. Now, I'm starting to wonder if it was a joke at all."

“Well, it’s so fucking amazing work. You look incredible.”

He acknowledges your sincerity. Naturally. It's a meticulously composed photo with thousand-dollar lighting, and makeup seamlessly blended into both of their skin. It was crafted to be admired, despite the evident imperfections concealed beneath the surface. Nonetheless, Seokmin's cheeks color at your commentary, a warmth palpable to the touch. "Thank you. Um, shall we?"

As you invest more time with him, the lingering question persists. Seokmin embodies perfection in every conceivable aspect, surpassing the qualities your husband ever possessed. The puzzle remains: Why? Why would his wife betray someone so genuinely kind and undeserving of such disloyalty? The enigma of her actions deepens with each passing moment spent in Seokmin's company.

Had you been in her shoes, you would grant him whatever he desires. The lengths you'd take to show your deep appreciation for him would extend endlessly, reaching far and lasting indefinitely. With complete faith, there wasn’t one damn rotten bone in his body, and he’s proven time and time he’s a sweetheart in and out. And although you were the one you were lucky enough to take his wife’s place, the least you could do is show him the courtesy of a friend. A friend who is cultivating feelings that start to transcend the simplicity of amicability.

“You know I can’t remember the last time I’ve had a home-cooked meal like this.”

“You’re welcome. I don’t feed my award-winning dish to just anyone.”

“It’s delicious. Like every bite filled with a mother’s hug. The best thing I ever put in my mouth.”

The way he says that tightens you in knots as you scrape off the remaining bit of your meal into the trash, letting the hot water from your faucet run down your plate. “A-an honor.”

You hear the scratch of his chair dragging on the floor as his padded feet approach you. “Let me help you with that.”

“You don’t need to—“

“You made dinner, let me in your humble abode, the least I can do as a guest.”

As your eyes follow the sequence of events, his long limbs gracefully extend over, prompting you to delicately set aside the dish with a self-assured smile. "You've done plenty. Let the host handle things."

He chuckles in disbelief. “Come on.”

“Stop it.” You giggle, splashing water at him.

He scoffs, splashing back. “You stop. Come on.”

“Seokmin!”

In a playful exchange, you engage in a subtle power struggle while fighting over the task. As he attempts to take control, you defy his dominance, completing the task before he can assert authority. Tension mounts as you press him against the counter, feeling the taut surface of his abdomen beneath your palm. A breathless moment ensues, and you slowly withdraw, leaving the air thick with anticipation.

You don’t notice the expression on Seokmin’s face when you unintentionally feel him up. The patter in his chest when it stroked down as you let go. The twitch in his pants when he notices your eyes are still glued to his body. He wishes he’d stop you from resisting, let you have him where you wanted. Move your body against him.

But you're married, just like him. Albeit unhappily, but he must've confused trauma bonding for affection, lust, and longing. He wasn't actually falling for you; he's just lonely. Needy. Horny.

Seokmin just needs a good wank. A proper one with mood music and the lotion that smells like lavender or roses. All the romantic shit because that’s the type of guy he was. A romantic.

The challenge is doing it without your face popping in his head.

For the longest time, he’d only thought of his wife. Although met through an arrangement via each other's parents, he thought he could love her, live with kids of their own, and live a happy life. For a moment he thought it was possible.

And then it came sex. Again and again, it would fail. And the smaller, the smaller he’d become. Like a shitty moldy piece of gum on the back of her shoe. Fuck it if she made him feel smaller than he should’ve. He knows he doesn't deserve it, and maybe it’s why your presence is so comforting.

A breath of fresh air. A change of pace.

The attempt at forgetting your face with his hand around his cock becomes a failed one, spreading his failure all over his abdomen as he slumps in his chair. his nipples stand erect in the cool draft.

He feels the need to see you again, a necessary step in clearing his conscience.

“Seokmin!”

“Hey! Ready for apartment shopping?”

“You bet. I just have one more thing to get in my bedroom. My wallet, it’s somewhere in there. Would you mind helping?”

“Oh yeah, sure. Uh…”

Entering the house, he allows the door to gently close, his footsteps echoing softly behind you. Observing the calm chaos of the room, he notices you tending to one side of your bedroom, and he contemplates, “In a drawer maybe?”

“Maybe? Just anywhere but—Wait, not there!”

He heeds your warning a second too late, pulling open a drawer revealing an array of toys too numerous to count—silicone, glass, plastic, and leather alike. The drawer houses an endless collection of items, all meticulously encased as if stored for display. One in particular catches his eye—a beautiful set of restraints that appear velvety soft to the touch. "Holy—"

Swiftly, you close the drawer, shielding its contents from prying eyes, and gently push him aside. “Hey! Don’t judge. He’s always been one buy these things, not like anything’s wrong with them. They were fun, at first at least.”

“I’m not judging, but backtrack. Ropes?”

Hesitancy singes the tip of your tongue. “He said silk ties slip off too easy to escape out of.” Your hand rests on your other wrist, reliving the memory somewhat fondly until it sinks down in your gut. “Rope leaves burns to remember how they felt. Like I said, they were fun. Until it became only what he wanted. Because it has always been what he wanted, and when I wouldn’t give it to him anymore, well…we all know how he handled that.”

“...Yeah I do.”

For the first time, a glimpse of sadness graces your expression in Seokmin’s presence, as if your relationship bears an unspoken sorrow. The furrow of your brows accentuates the subtle sighs and mild frown that follow. He yearns to soothe those features, wishing to impart a gentle reassurance, to convey it wasn't your fault if that was a concern. However, silence prevails as he observes you swiftly refocus on finding your missing item.

“Come on. Let’s keep looking.”

Complying with your request, Seokmin sifts through your belongings, eventually retrieving the misplaced wallet from beneath the bed. Announcing his discovery, you release a breath of relief and claim it back at your fingertips. He prizes the brief smile on your face before proceeding with the rest of today's plans.

The search for fortitude after it was all over went as well as expected, with most encounters with potential sellers assuming that you were looking for places with Seokmin, not just with Seokmin as each other's company. After the fifth apartment for sale, correcting them becomes less of an effort, and you find yourself momentarily forgetting that all of this is for your own distant, separate futures.

You arrive home, starved and parched from your scheming and Seokmin, ever the gentleman, playfully suggests that he takes charge of the evening’s dinner. You, as usual, politely resist, already taking the initiative a step before he could, following his lighthearted protests. Eventually, you compromise, allowing him the duty of gathering produce from the fridge and placing them on the kitchen island.

The absence of your spouse during these dinners has become a common occurrence, allowing his presence replaced by a string of repetitive excuses that you could only assume were to cover up his ongoing affair. It’d still leave a resonating ache in the pit of your stomach, but you’d be lying if you said the sensation hadn’t dulled since meeting Seokmin.

“If you don’t mind me asking, you said it hurt.”

“What did?”

"The ropes—if that's okay to ask! I—" His cheek flushes into a furious red, and bashfully, the surface of his palm covers the lower half of his face. Chuckling anxiously to himself, a glimpse of regret becomes evident on his face. "You know what? Never mind."

“No, what? You can ask, it's ok.”

“It’s just. I’m just a little curious.”

“Yes?”

“Being tied down for you was…arousing?”

You softly giggle, “For a bit it did. That’s when I still had a bit of input.”

“When did that stop?”

“Maybe when he got frustrated. I became less willing to do it. I wanted to try other things and he wouldn’t budge either.”

“...Like what?”

“He was always the one in control,” You shrug, “Wanted to try it out for once. He felt insulted.”

“That’s stupid.”

“I know right.” You shake your head. “He was different since. And so was sex. The little we had anyway.”

“...Ami said I was a pussy.”

You pause in your movement, turning your head towards him, observing as his head drops past his shoulders.

“She said I wasn’t a real man. ‘Out of all the men I was arranged to marry, why was it the most pathetic one?’”

You meet eyes, recognizing quiet sorrow in them. “That’s not true.”

“It is. I could be stronger, I could be manlier.”

“You’re very manly, Seokmin,” you reassure.

“Really?”

“Of course you are.”

“...Even if I wondering what it’s like to have those ropes to tie me down? Am I still manly then?”

A surprised and nervous tone colors your words as you feel a response catch in your throat. "Are you serious?"

“Gravely,” he says without thinking. "But, you know, it's just a random thought—"

“Would you like to experience it for yourself?”

“Are you serious?”

“Gravely,” you imitate, grinning.

He gives a tentative nod, the blush now unhidden by his hands. "Okay."

Guiding him back to your bedroom, the soft glow of the lamp casts a warm ambiance. You open the drawer he inadvertently discovered earlier today, its contents revealing an array of intriguing items. With deliberate care, you extract the rope from its designated spot, feeling its smooth texture under your fingertips. The room holds a hushed anticipation as you methodically untangle the rope, each loop a dance of shadows and highlights. You observe Seokmin's gaze, noting the subtle shifts in his expression as he follows the intricate journey of each strand unfurling in the dim light.

A subtle fire charges the air, palpable in the way his breath catches and his eyes widen. There's a flicker of uncertainty in his expression, a nervous anticipation that surfaces as he watches the rope unfold. The gravity of the situation settles in, and you can sense his apprehension growing with each meticulous loop you release. It's as if the sight of the rope carries an unspoken weight, stirring a mixture of curiosity and anxiety in him.

“You look nervous.”

He takes a pronounced swallow, hand coming around his other wrist. “You’ve never done this before, right?”

“I've seen it enough times to mimic it.” You walk towards him cautiously, the subtle rustle of the rope in your hands. "Do you trust me?"

Hesitantly, he nods.

Obediently, he pins his wrists to one another, your fingertips coming around to loop around either one. As you secure the knot, you notice the subtle tension in his shoulders, curiosity playing across his features. The room is filled with a quiet intensity, broken only by the hushed sound of your movements.

"How’s that feel?" You ask, adjusting the knot.

"Kind of tight?"

"Oh, sorry–"

"No, don’t be. It’s interesting," He replies, fingers exploring the texture of the material.

"Interesting, like it feels good?"

"I think so, but…"

"But?"

He hesitated, her gaze shifting toward the window. "How different is it tied to something? Like a bed frame?"

“Pretty different. You have a bit of control with just your wrists tied. When it’s against something…like a bed frame…there’s none of it. You’re kind of helpless.”

“Helpless,” he echoes breathlessly.

“Is that something you want to try too?”

Silently, he nods, his eyes flickering with anticipation. As you start to untangle the ropes, you internally count your breaths, and then lead him to the bed. Your knee sinks into the soft cushion of the mattress, sensing Seokmin's deliberate movement as he gradually takes over the center. His eyes, wide and lucid, silently observe your actions. A concentrated, half-lidded scrutiny follows as you maneuver between his legs, your heart pounding in your chest. With determination, you reach for one wrist, swiftly pinning it to one corner.

As the rope winds its way around his wrist, a subtle shiver courses through him, betraying the nerves that have taken residence beneath his skin. His hands, once steady, now exhibit a discernible tremor, a physical manifestation of the anxious anticipation that tightens every muscle. Then it comes to his second wrist. Each loop seems to tighten the grip of uncertainty, and you can almost hear the accelerated beat of his heart as the binding becomes more tangible. The quiet room amplifies the rustle of the rope, echoing the unease that dances in his eyes, creating a palpable tension that hangs in the air.

His eyes flutter at the pace of his heart, swallowing tension built in his throat, and a shallow breath escapes him. You limply part from your work, reluctant to meet his eyes, as yours bat erratically. Your lips part to speak, but all that escapes is a breathless awe, hardly forming an unsteady “T-there.”

You find yourself unable to avert your gaze, observing as he grapples with the situation. The sight of his struggle seems to compound his embarrassment, evident in his feeble attempts to break free—though it becomes apparent that success is an elusive feat, even with earnest effort.

The memory of your first time is what initially pops into your mind. You remember how anxious you felt–feeling your heart race even between your legs as if it were possible–yet elated to do something so different, and then the pleasure. The sensation of feeling everything at once. Sweat pilled on your skin humiliatingly, only your cries used to fight back. You haven’t thought positively about that experience until now, seeing it reflected onto Seokmin.

“They are really hard to get out of actually,” he chuckles defeatedly, but not so much so that doesn’t find himself enjoying the circumstance.

A nervous hum leaves your nose as you exhale, clenching the arousal between your legs cautiously. “Good now you know. So I guess—”

“I’m really helpless like this…can’t even get out of these on my own.” You perceive the audible constriction in his throat, a subtle indication that becomes evident as he articulates his words. Although unsteady, he isn’t scared. Something else flickers in his vision. Something that almost scares you.

Ultimately, you quietly acknowledge him with a mumble, reaching over to one side to undo your knots, but he stops you with a single word. With your hands trembling, your focus intensifies on the intricate task of trying to loosen the binds that restrain him. Your gaze remains fixed on the knots, avoiding direct eye contact, as the palpable tension in the room mirrors the shackles you’ve put yourselves in: his being physical, while yours are mental.

“Yeah,” you breathe out.

“You look at me differently now don’t you?”

You shake your head apprehensively, your grip tightening around the ropes, half-expecting them to bind you physically, yet realizing it's the thoughts swirling in your mind that truly threaten to restrain you. “Why do you say that?”

There’s a soft scoff that makes its way to your ears, registering his disbelief. “You can’t even meet my eyes…are you embarrassed?”

“No.”

“Then why can’t you look at me?” He asks poignantly.

“I’ve never been in this out position before.”

“In control?”

You take a moment to yourself to breathe, dropping your head, still gripping around the rope lethally. “Seokmin.”

“Look at me,” there’s a hint of a smile in his voice. “I’d feel less shameful if you do… what are you thinking?”

You raise your head and meet his eyes, a blend of vulnerability and determination flickering in your gaze. A myriad of words that could have been spoken in response swirl within you, yet each one remains submerged, reluctant to surface and make its presence known. The weight of unspoken sentiments lingers heavily, creating a palpable silence between you.

In the quiet intensity of the moment, his fingertips hand in the charges air, sifting to move between your digits and lock them together. The unspoken tension between you both transforms into something tangible, hanging in the air like a delicate thread, on the verge of snapping. As your eyes linger on one another, a mutual message is exchanged, and without a word, the distance closes.

The kiss is gentle at first, before the heat of his tongue brushes against your bottom lip, softly pulling it towards him. Your lip lock only intensifies as your body presses against his, responding to the desperation that has woven its way through the conversation. The room, once filled with fervency, now holds the soft symphony of a connection finding its place.

As the moment stretches, you muster the strength to finally pull away, cognizant that the power to do so rests solely with you. A gentle reluctance permeates the atmosphere, tinting it with a subdued pink rather than the earlier flickering intensity of red, as you gradually draw back.

Your gazes linger for a fleeting moment, exchanging unspoken promises and silently acknowledging the connection that perhaps shouldn't have been forged. The room retains the echo of the shared intensity, leaving both of you contemplating the significance of what had just transpired.

You release yourself from his touch, the sensation lingering on your skin as your mind wanders, assessing the unfolding actions and the potential consequences. However, despite your attempt at detachment, his words persistently weave through the corridors of your thoughts, rendering any escape from their influence seemingly impossible. “You like being in control?”

You eventually nod.

“Act like it.”

“How?” You question, eyes searching for guidance.

“However you want?”

You seize a fleeting moment, the world around you momentarily suspended, as you deliberate, attempting to release the grip of your inhibitions. The soft murmur of your surroundings becomes a distant echo, drowned out by the internal dialogue that unfolds as you grapple with the decision to unshackle yourself from the mental constraints that have held you captive. It's someone else's job now, not yours. After a thoughtful pause, you finally exhale, uttering a simple but profound, "Okay."

You press yourself against him, your knees locking him at his waist. “Just don’t go whining about it. Or do.” Your hand glides over his restrained wrist, fingering over the vein revealed from his uncuffed sleeve dropping to his forearm, as your other hand claims his face. Initially soft and cool, your touch carries an understated gentleness. Yet, beneath its surface lies a latent warmth that simmers on the skin, gradually intensifying like a path of hellfire. A burgeoning confidence unfolds in you like a delicate bud blossoming into a vibrant bloom. It unfolds gradually but with a definite determination, poised to flourish. “There’s not much else you can do anyway. Isn’t that how you like it?”

"Yes," he confesses, his lungs momentarily devoid of air, the admission hanging in the space like a weighty secret reluctantly released.

The corners of your lips gracefully curl upwards, imparting a subtle but undeniable sense of amusement or satisfaction. “To answer your question earlier, being tied down does still make you manly.” Your hand runs down the length of his arm, settling against the structure of his collarbone, closing the distance between your lips and his honey-glazed skin. "I believe the epitome of true masculinity is found in the act of surrender. It's about willingly placing oneself in a position of trust, embracing vulnerability with unwavering courage."

"Really," he challenges, doubt injecting a sharp edge into his words. "You think that highly of me? Even though you’re the one that can do whatever you want with me?”

“I do.”

You pull apart from him, distancing your bodies and sinking into the bed once you find its edge. You bat your eyes back at him slowly as your hand lands on the top of your chest, releasing a slow and steady breath. “It is simply your form of expression, and in return, I’ll show you mine.”

You fiddle with your buttons, exposing skin bit by bit. Your chest heaves and your legs shift to raise your upper body, anchored by your calves and ankles. Your blouse drops down your shoulders to leave your body, and your cladded breasts are what Seokmin gravitates to first.

Seokmin’s eyes ventured from your lines, the curves once hidden underneath the barrier of your clothes, now in plain sight like art mounted for display. He processes the fullness of your thighs as they drop against your hind legs, and he doesn’t hear the whimper that makes it past his contorted lips.

Hands gripping the sheets, you crawl in prowess towards him wide-eyed until you’re between his legs once again. “Nervous?”

He takes a gulp, his voice tight. “Not in the slightest.”

“Good.” Your fingers move similarly to before, now with your pants which have clung to your body since you’ve worn them.

Seokmin doesn’t for a moment think of a thing as the fabric pulls over your thighs, skin revealing like the first appearance of colored television, nothing short of a visual marvel. He feels gutted, grappling with his restraints. As the sight of you draws near, the longing for your touch bolsters, and an undeniable compulsion surges within him. He barely manages to make out your name in timid haste.

“I’m curious what is like for you to touch my body. How’d you stroke my skin, or caress my legs,” You softly tease, pleased to see the effect you’ve made as he visibly clenched his abdomen. “but I wonder more what it's like for you unable to do a thing as I undress myself.”

"Devastating, truly," he remarks with a chuckle, the irony hanging heavier in the air than any spoken words could convey. “I never thought I’d despise being on the receiving end of a strip tease. Emphasis on tease.”

The pants hit the floor as you shrug them off, “Well, that’s the point of tying you up. You wondered what it was like.” You grinned impishly, “Can’t say you’re disappointed because you didn’t get what you wanted”

“Well, I wouldn’t. Though, I’d appreciate it if—“ Your itching hand grazes the top of his dress shirt, finding the top button and delicately allowing it to come apart. “—if. Ahem. Uh…”

“Yes?”

“I, uh…” he never does finish that sentence, too preoccupied with every button displaced, slowly revealing the tension of his bare torso. He shivers as a brisk draft ripples through his body, his shirt with its open flaps curtaining his taut body, flexing in suspense. “I lost my train of thought…”

You softly chortle as the tip of your nail travels down his concave valleys in interest. “I bet you did.”

Inescapably, you find yourself drawing closer with only a whisper of space between the two of you. Unseen, the sound of Seokmin’s belt unravels, and his eyes widen in shock—catching him off guard. You watch him hauntingly while your hands admire him in a way he’s never even dreamt of.

You roll his erect nipples between your fingers. “Does it excite you? To get doted on? All the attention on you?”

He whimpers quietly, a sigh weakly following. “Yes.”

Your smile lifts up from one end, parting your lips curiously as you tighten your fingers. He winces with short bursts of gasps following and his legs writhe in place while his eyes gloss over in teary awe. “Like when I compliment you? Or when I’m teasing your pretty little parts?”

“Yes. Both.” You wrapped your lips on his bud, the front of your teeth grazing his sensitive skin, and you sucked in your breath. He emits the lightest, airiest of sighs and dips his lower torso into the bed. The rope's friction bit into his skin, undoubtedly causing a burning sensation, only further enticing him.

You softly scoff, leveling your face with him. Your hand glides soothingly over his cheek, cooled by sweat pilling on his forehead, now your inadvertent warmth contrasting against him. “I'm honestly surprised by you, Seokmin. If you wanted me to tie you up, you should’ve just said so. I’d easily comply.”

He nuzzles against your touch, the tip of his nose tracing the crevice of your palm. “I’m sorry.”

You offer him a gentle, welcoming smile. “Don’t be. You’re under my care now.”

“…Am I?”

“Well, are you?”

He moans your name again, longing your hands against his body as you only caress his skin without so much an inkling of moving lower. “Please, that's all I want.”

“What is it you want then?” You grab his chin between your thumb and index. “Tell me everything.”

“Whatever you want to do with me.”

“And if I wanted to just play all evening?” You tested.

He nods back determined. “I’d let you.”

“If I’d sit on your face?”

His breath cuts off in his throat, losing sanity over the potential of your arousal drowning him in bliss. “I’d make sure I’m a proper seat.”

“If I don’t let you cum?”

He clenches his fists, exhaling as you meet your knee with his crotch, where a tent pitched itself right in his trousers. It moves anxiously, already submerging himself in the power of your words. “I’d wait my turn. No matter how long it takes.”

“…And if I want to milk you dry.”

“I’d give you my lifeline…I’m yours.”

In that fleeting moment, the rest of the world dissolves into insignificance. You find yourself yielding to the warmth of his gaze, entranced by the cadence of his language and the resonance of his tone. Finally, you did just what was inevitable.

As Seokmin is bare down to his skin, your hand travels down to the base of his shaft and glides up delicately to his tip. Your lips pressed generously against his collarbone, nipping at his smooth and flustered skin. Your thumb strokes over his veins, grip squeezing his girth, and inadvertently he whines out of his control.

“You’re teasing me…”

“Is that not what you wanted?” Your lips gradually trail down his chest, lowering to hover right over his length that stands mere inches away from your face. “Or are you wanting something more?”

“Of course, I want what you want. I’m s-sorry…”

The tip of his cock kisses against your lips and twitches upon contact. You feign innocence in his gaze and purse your lips. “I can’t help but think, you want me to wrap my lips around your cock. Stuff down my throat. Spill your hot cum inside me.”

“Please,” he moans.

You slot him between your lips and suck on his sensitivity. You hum his name, every syllable vibrating around his skin. He groans observing you, nearly thrusting into your mouth before you decide to slam down his thighs. “Mmh-Mhh, you know better than to do that.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeatedly mumbles, “You’re just so pretty there.”

“Though that may be, you chose to trust me, and now I need to trust you. Behave.”

He swallows apprehensively. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ll apprehend you if you don't. I have more than one set of ropes.”

Seokmin’s heart slightly twitches at that, but he decides to obey for now, hoping there’s another opportunity another day. He wouldn’t want to test his limits.

His cock has made its way between your lips once again, exploring deeper until you meet halfway down his length. With your free hand, you tend to his remaining size, feeling it pulse in your touch. His groans become the background music for his symphony of arousal, while the sensation of your hallowed cheeks tug against him.

You allow him to plunge deeper, wide eyes peering at him for his reaction, and you feel the impulsive thrust of his hips again. Only this time, you let him. You feel every inch consume you, lodged far down your airways, traveling at a needy–even desperate–pace. You shut your eyes, feeling your tears burn your skin. Ultimately, you pull out before he gets close, registering his pink cheeks and bite-swollen lips after regaining your sight. You cough away from him, catching your breath and the apology leaving Seokmin’s lips once again.

“I’m so sorry! Fuck! I–”

“I said I’d apprehend you, didn't I?”

You make good on your promise and another pair of ropes makes an appearance, pinning him at either corners of the bed and splaying him like a starfish, rendering him completely defenseless.

He deserves this, he thought, unable to resist the inexplicable thrill that coursed through him. He’d struggle against the rope had it not been for the remainder of your strip show. The slow slip of your bra strap, the release of your clasp, baring you raw in your gorgeous glory. If he had his fists, he’d be biting them. Hell, if he had any control of his limbs, he’d worship you on the very floor you walk on, crushed under you the ball of your feet, and using his hands for your pleasure and your pleasure only.

Perhaps that’s why he could not help but be more aroused like a teenager discovering porn for the first time. That was the beauty of it. It was something Ami never understood. She wanted him to do it all: be the dominant partner all the time, be a one-and-done fucking machine. You are willing to explore things, even with him, and you didng make him feel small about it. He can’t help but feel eternally grateful it's with him.

He doesn’t want to admit it, but he had already fallen for you the moment his eyes laid on your photos. He couldn’t believe the sight you were nor the fact that you were on the receiving end of this distress. He knew he had to meet you. He just hadn’t factor in what it’d do to him when it happens.

Even as your legs border either of his side, he’s in disbelief. Your pretty cunt stares back at him in want, aching for his presence just as he aches to explore you. He can feel the drool make it past the corner of his lips as your heat radiates off you, just before letting his raw length part your walls.

A hearty moan escapes you, and all Seokmin can think of how sweet it sounds in company with the moisture of your arousal. Your knees dig into the mattress as you adjust to his size, hips naturally grinding against him before he fully is plunged inside. Drinking in his groans, you slightly fall forward and find your grip on the bedframe, not realizing how easy it is to claim Seokmin’s hands.

A smile tugs at your lips as you delicately weave your fingers through his. You rest your forehead against his, softly cooing back at him. “You’re being so good for me.”

“Anything for you," he responds, his voice filled with a tender, intimate sincerity.

“Mmh, Seokmin...”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Would you like the control of your hands again?”

His eyes flicker back at you, seeing the certainty in your eyes, before hesitatingly nodding. Carefully, you release him, gently soothing the red marks on either wrist. Pleadingly, he asks for your permission to touch you, and easily you oblige, taking his hands. You guide him where he may touch, letting them stroke up your sides. You softly sigh as you let him regain his power, letting it surge through him as he replenishes feeling in his arms.

He balls your flesh in fists, pushing deeper inside you as his tongue grows more possessive. You clench around him, hands accessing his body like free real estate, playing with all the amenities. “Are you that happy? Touching me like I’m yours?”

He throws his head back, assessing his grip on you to pull you forward, giving you a long awaited liplock. He rediscovers your plush tongue, retracing its pattern as he pushes you closer against him to the best of his abilities with his contradicted ankles. He claims you from your lower back, rolling his hips against you, as your furnace-hot body intoxicates him like a drug. “I’m elated. You make me so happy. You have no idea.”

Your exuberant sounds fold over one another, building the tension off your bodies until you’ve reach their highest form. Seokmin was the first to express it. Even before he mumbles how close he is, he’s embracing you tighter as his hot breath fans down your flustered body. To that, you say the first response that comes to mind. “Cum in me.”

“W-without a—“

You tense tighter around him, legs clutching around him desperately. “Cum inside me, Seokmin.”

You get what you want in the end. The streams of white warmth painting your inside are perfection. Like bursts of ribbons in a festive air, he releases a lingering sense of ecstasy. Falling against his chest, you count his pants by the heave of his chest, drifting off from fatigue.

With the bit of energy you had left, you undo Seokmin’s knots, and rest comes easy, no matter how early into the night it still is.

You don’t remember the last time you were held like this. You don’t know if you were held ever like this. His eyes, though weary, radiate a smile that mirrors the gentle curve of his lips. A hand slides behind your head, fingers gently stroking, and his soft sighs become a melodic comfort, conveying solace without the need for words. In his presence, a profound sense of peace envelops you, creating a reluctance to part from this moment of tranquility.

Dinner, once a fleeting moment before the spontaneous decision of sex, turns into a midnight meal, a meal draped in each other comfort. Seokmin effortlessly slips into your comforting pair of sweatpants, while you envelop yourself in his once-abandoned dress shirt, a tangible reminder of the intimacy shared. Together, you concoct a pot of instant ramen, opting for the simplicity of a quick meal rather than the meticulousness of a dish crafted from scratch.

“That smells delicious,” he compliments.

“Sorry, it couldn’t be better.”

His hands find a secure hold on your body, his head gently resting over your shoulder. "It's no bother at all. Plus, you've already worked up quite an appetite."

His kisses, soft against your temple, coincide with the casual embrace of his arms around your waist. Your curves seamlessly mold into the contours of his body, like two pieces naturally falling into place, creating a comforting bond between your bodies.

“Stil, you deserve better than ramen.”

“It’s Shin ramen. It's the best of its kind. I’m more than honored.”

“You’re silly…I like that.”

“Good. I like you. I’m glad that I got to meet you.” His words are accompanied by a gentle squeeze of your hand.

You grin. “Me too…but we can’t do that again.”

“Oh, well why not?”

"Well, for now." You playfully tap his nose with a chopstick. "Let's wait until everything is done. Until we’re both free again.”

He sighs, dejected at your request. “You’re right, but…”

He effortlessly lifts you from the ground and you drop your utensils on the ground. Abruptly, he settles you onto the kitchen counter. The coolness from the marble is chilling as the surface provides a sudden, invigorating contrast to your warm skin. Startled, your eyes flutter back at him, steadying yourself with hands resting on his shoulders. You succumb to the warmth in his eyes, a honeyed allure that wraps you in the comforting embrace of his touch.

“How do you expect me to live on without you in my arms? I’ll never know peace like it.” Seokmin's voice carries a warmth that wraps around you like a blanket, one that is not weighted with darkness and anxiety, but instead laden with love and good faith.

You respond by pulling him into a tight embrace, legs playfully anchoring around his torso. A smile graces your lips as you enjoy the closeness. “A test of faith. Then we can truly enjoy each other's company.”

“I’ll be counting the days then,” he says with a smile

You persist in meeting Seokmin, navigating the divorce process until you're on the verge of its completion. Ironically, amidst the dissolution's purpose, you sense the blossoming of a new connection amid the ruins of another.

“You didn’t have to take me home. You know how risky it is.”

He sighs, squeezing your hand in his, dreading the moment you have to leave. He has grown accustomed to your presence, and every night without you feels like a painful void in his heart, as he awaits the arrival of the following morning. "I can't wait until this is all over."

“Me too. I’ll see you tomorrow, and the day after and the day after—“

“Lord knows how we get any work done,” he giggles.

"I know, right." You let the moment linger a second longer before sharing a final embrace, stealing a kiss on his cheek as you slip away from his grasp. Through the tinted windows, you smile, aware of the blush you've ignited on his face.

Arriving home, the joy is dampened by the sight of familiar shoes. Suppressing your unease, you greet your husband with a forced smile, avoiding eye contact. "Mingyu? Honey? Is that you? No overtime tonight?

You're met with a stern expression and a decisive declaration. Devoid of warmth, he slams a stack of papers onto the kitchen counter–documents that have become all too familiar over these past few weeks.

“I want a divorce.”

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fortune-fool02 · 11 months

Text

Run

Miguel O'Hara x Anomaly, female reader

Summary: [Name] had never truly had a reason to fear Miguel, until now.

Warnings: Light spoilers for ATSV, angst, canon violence. Dark?

Word count: 1,351 words

I couldn't help but fall for this man.

Thank you for reading. Please leave feedback and reblog as it really helps. Thank you.

Please enjoy.

My heart pounded in my ears, drumming heavily inside my chest. Weak, pathetic gasps of breath were all my lungs could muster at this moment, straining my muscles on a thin edge of energy, but I had to keep going. Swallowing down what little oxygen I could, I took off running once again.

The power to this place had been cut off, leaving me shrouded in a thick coat of darkness. Shadows shifting and spreading around the walls and floors, spreading their wings like a great crow, reaching out towards me to swallow me whole. Each little sound, each little noise, no matter how soft or distant, shot a fresh wave of fear through my body.

The walls seemed to be closing in on me, bending unnaturally to contain me, like a rat inside an ever-expanding maze, watched by unseen eyes, observed. Every room I moved into began to look more identical to the last to the point I was certain I was running around in bloody circles now.

I knew I took a left this time instead of right. Or was it the other way around?

"Fuck." I softly cursed, looking around frantically to search for any indication of someplace new, some form of escape from this place. The ache in my muscles begged for me to stop and rest, and it was growing more and more tempting for every second that I stood still, but I had to push it aside. I couldn't risk stopping now.

The silence was calming but tense. My ears straining to listen for anything. How had this all gone so wrong so fast? The thought bounced around in my head. They were supposed to be a team, all of us working together as a unit to keep the balance. And now, there was no team. Only those hunting and those being hunted.

A distant sound caught my attention, making the pulse in my veins go silent for a moment. Something sharp scraping along metal, creating that uncomfortable screeching sound that made one want to grit their teeth. An icy coldness filled my body, sapping out any ounce of courage I might have had before.

The sound grew closer and closer, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end, and I looked around. A small room stood to the side and I pushed the door open, sliding my body inside and tucking down behind a desk, attempting to make myself as small as possible. Anxiety clashed inside of me, gnawing away at my bones and chewed at my veins like a starved dog as I sat absolutely still.

A soft creak was heard from the hinges of the door as it was pushed open, my heart in my throat. Faint, almost silent footsteps tapped the cold floor, the sound almost deafening in the quiet room. A heavy presence filled the room, choking out any ounce of air out and replacing it with this dense, curshing smoke. I almost couldn't breathe.

The bottom of Miguel's shoes could be seen on the otherside of the desk, he was standing so close that if I breathed a little too loud, he would hear it. I bit down on my lip, trying to silence my breathing and watched his movements carefully.

He stood there, his shadow creeping under the small gap under the desk. Even his shadow alone was intimidating. As if I touched it, he would know I was there. I could feel his eyes behind the wood of the desk, piercing down at me with their vibrant, eerie glow. The eyes of a predator hunting down his prey, his meek, pathetic prey.

Any minute now, he would tear the desk apart and expose my hiding spot and then it was all over for me. It was by some stroke of luck that I had survived this long running from him. Miguel had always seemed like a patient man, but behind that patience, there was something brewing. Stirring under the surface. Waiting for its chance to emerge.

Now, he was almost a different man. Someone I had once trusted to have my back in any situation, someone I sided with through thick and thin.

Slowly, his shoes turned away from the desk and began to walk out of the room. A small breath of relief slipped my lips before it was cut off by a painful sharpness, my body distorting for a brief moment as a violent glitch ran through my body. And his footsteps stopped.

Before I had a chance to move, five talons pierced through the wood of the desk, just missing my head by a hair thread before the desk was thrown across the room, shattering upon impact and throwing splinters outwards.

Miguel stood there, his expression twisted with an anger that made my very nerves tense up. His eyes glowing deeply in the darkness.

"There you are." His voice was dripping with the same venom in his fangs, that could out any snake or spider to shame. A fearful cry left my lips as I tried to crawl backwards, trying to get away from him, but Miguel was faster. He always was.

His foot shot out, striking my chest hard and pinned me to the floor. The weight of it crushing out any air in my lungs.

"M-Mi....guel...." I choked out, trying to squirm under his weight, a fruitless attempt. His body lowered down, his knee replacing his foot which only made it worse. A faint cracking sound was made from my chest, my ribcage straining under him to the point I feared the bones would snap. His eyes pierced into me, deep into my very soul, eyes that I once would gaze deeply into. But now, all I saw was rage.

"All you had to do was listen to me, [Name]." He hissed out, his fangs glimmering in the low light, "And you couldn't even do that." I couldn't help but cower. Of all the enemies I faced in my universe, none of them came close to the fear I felt looking up at Miguel at this moment in time. None of them came close to the threat that he radiated.

"P-Please, I made a mistake, I know that." I forced out, wheezing for air as my lungs began to burn. All I could focus on where those eyes of his. The only spark of colour in the darkness around us. Even like this, there was a beauty to the man, in the same way that a venomous snake held the most beautiful patterns in their scales, or a tiger baring the boldest of stripes on their fur.

Or the most stunning spider holding the most potent venom.

The cold sharpness of his talons brushed along the side of my face, pushing some strands out of the way of my eyes, but the tips of them hovering far too close for comfort to my eyes.

"Then you knew this would be coming." Miguel's talon brushed the corner of my eye, making the muscle around it twitch. "Then you wouldn't have tried to run." A light stinging sensation was felt as the tip of the talon pushed into my skin lightly, just enough to break the skin but not deep enough to draw blood. Slowly, he dragged it along to my cheekbone, an almost thoughtful expression filling his face as if admiring something.

Then, he shifted the movement sharply, cutting open a wound. "Ah!"

His other hand gripped the side of my head, forcing me to keep still and look up at him, and only him. I was completely at his mercy. Until he saw my punishment fit of my so-called 'crime'.

When Miles had made a run for it through the 'Go-Home' machine, I made no attempt to stop him. I let him run right past me when I was more than capable of stopping him. I was the last line of defence, and I let Miles escape. My loyalty might have laid with Miguel, but my sympathy was with Miles. The boy deserved a chance to save his father.

Miguel, clearly, did not see it the same way.

#miguel x reader #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #yandere miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #spiderman2099 #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #spiderman: across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #atsv #atsv x reader

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nordarknessdimsthesky · 8 months

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A linguistic analysis of tumblr hyperbole in the tags

This post expands my previous analysis of hyperbolic reactions to cluster tags by themes. There were too many themes, some of them overlapping, to create a cohesive graph. Instead, I present several overarching themes from a data set of 50 tags observed and documented in various corners of tumblr.

1. Feeling Normal™️

Tags within this cluster profess Normal feelings (read: extreme excitement, enthusiasm, obsession, derangement, etc.).

#mmmmrrrghuhhhhghhh #I'm so normal about it teehee #absolutely not rending my clothing #feeling very normal and not feral at all #i will simply never recover #gif sets sent to personally destroy me #i can't cope #the eyes #i'm a puddle #i am INCONSOLABLE #i am DISTRAUGHT #IM NOT OKKAAAAAAYYYYYY #FEELING TOTALLY ONE HUNDRED PERCENT NORMAL

2. Feralness

The following data points conjure animalistic behavior. There’s a non-zero amount of biting and chewing involved.

#chomping biting barking #biting my arms off #rattling my cage #[incoherent biting noises] #chewing glass #chewing through wood #*shaking the bars of my enclosure* HELLO!!!!!!!! #climbing the walls #biting gnawing chewing #im gonna rip off my front door and eat it

3. Noisy Emotional Outbursts

These tags encompass crying, screaming, yelling, and other loud reactions.

# shaking sobbing crying #SCREAMIIIING BANGING MY HEAD ON THE WALL #*no thoughts only wailing* #i am SOBBING #IM CRYING LIKE A BITCH #*just fucking yelling* #S C R E A M #screeching into a pillow #brb sobbing for 5-7 business years

4. Throwing

All of these tags except the last one involve being thrown instead of throwing things. I, personally, am entertained by the range of places/situations people are throwing themselves into.

#i am going to THROW MYSELF into the SEA #hurl me into the sea #hurl me into the sun #trebuchet me into the sun #hurl me straight at europa #vent me out of an airlock #slam me against a wall #put me in a box and throw me down the stairs #throwing myself into traffic you know? #just defenestrate me already #defenestrate me #absolutely hurl me through plate glass #i'm going to start tossing furniture

5. Bodily Harm

There’s a good deal of overlap with the previous theme. Nearly all of the tags involving throwing would result in varying degrees of bodily harm. Here are the tags outside of the Throwing subgroup.

#im going to throw upppppp #tearing my hair out #banging my head against the wall #SCREAMIIIING BANGING MY HEAD ON THE WALL #biting my arms off #microwaving myself #crumple me up and microwave me

6. Absurdism

My personal favorite cluster. The imagery conjured and resulting comedic hyperbole is just [chef’s kiss].

#im gonna rip off my front door and eat it #crumple me up and microwave me #put me in a box and throw me down the stairs #defenestrate me #absolutely hurl me through plate glass

7. Keysmashes

These tags center less around meaning and more around style, so they form the last group. A handful of these could fall under Noisy Emotional Outbursts because they represent reaction noises. In my linguistic judgment, keysmashing increases the hyperbole – consider augh versus aughfhghghghhh – the latter reads as prolonged and more intense emotionally.

#aghdjakgsjadhjaka * #hrhrhrhgnnnghhhhh #aughfhghghghhh #mmmmrrrghuhhhhghhh #I'm so normal about it teehee #waughfhghghh #oughhhhghghhh

*one digression in a friend discord server was how people interpret keysmashes in their minds. Some hear the first couple letters and then some sputtering, others hear static. It’s a common joke that you need a minor in linguistics to understand conversations in this friend group. Such is the nature of things when the chaos linguist energy is strong.

#internet linguistics #tumblr linguistics #tumblr dialect #hyperbole #linguistics #tumblr #speaking and musing #the chaos linguist speaks

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jjkeremika · 3 months

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AoT men Vices

description: sex, drugs, cigarettes, and, well, you.

pairing: eren, armin, zeke, levi, reiner, jean (x fem!reader)

disclaimer/warning(s)?: stoner eren; oral(fem receiving); drinker zeke; groping; slutty levi; penetration; smoker reiner; rope play; gambler armin; fingering; jealous jean; choking; nsfwwwww

eren

• always high on weed/dabs/carts/edibles (doesn’t matter)

• his pale skin and green irises only accentuated the faint red tinge in the whites of his eyes, like a light blood splatter on american money

• hes tormented!! cut him a little slack. its not his fault his dad gave him the worst type ii bipolar disorder and narcissistic personality disorder a clinician’s ever seen

• gets horrendously horny when he’s high around you, starts touching and holding and kissing and biting you to get and keep your attention

• chews on his fingernails, jitters his legs, and licks and bites his lips as he stares at you, as he feels himself getting harder and harder at the thought of you getting wetter and wetter

• whines about how his throat is dry and he needs to taste you, to drink the liquid sliding out of you, until his tongue and jaw were cramping and his mouth was sore

• will pull you into his lap, gnaw on your shoulder and the lobe of your ear as his hands creep down your abdomen towards the source of the wet stain forming on his lap

• his voice lowers an octave as he begs to touch and taste you, as he asks if his hands and lips inching closer to your crotch is allowed and okay because he so desperately craves your approval

• “oh, baby, please, baby, only you can fix my dry mouth with your wet, pretty fucking pussy, god, baby, please, i’m so thirsty”

• moans so fucking loud when you finally give in and let him lick your clit, his fingers eagerly digging into your thighs as he pulls you so, so much closer, until there’s no air between his mouth and your skin

• devolves into demanding that you ride his face, hop and slide on his mouth with your shiny thick thighs with absolutely no hesitation, no regard for his lungs

zeke

• sad king who drinks most nights

• a gin and tonic or scotch on the rocks kind of man. likes the burn at the back of his throat on the way down

• confessed a similar reason to why he swims; liking the burning ache in his lungs when he holds his breath under the water. reminds him he’s alive

• has a poor relationship with his parents and half-brother. wants and sometimes tries to reconcile but he’s not really a people-person and he struggles to forgive

• divulges to you about his neglected dreams and pile of regrets, over analyzes situations until it all feels hopeless and meaningless

• holds you closer and tighter, at first because he’s fighting tears but then because he’s overcome with pure devotion because you’re here, with him, comforting him, every time

• and he’s certain you have so many other places you could be and more interesting people you can be with and yet you’re holding him too

• tells you that you mean the world to him, that he’s hopeless without you, that you give him something to smile and dream about, that he’d be nothing without you

• he’ll hold your wrists behind your back with one large hand and hold your neck with the other, prying your lips apart and re-introducing your tongues to each other, like he does every other night

• his hands roam as you kiss, his fingernails lightly tracing the goosebumps on your skin to the tail of your spine, the other hand following the curves of your ribcage to where your breast naturally interrupted

• “oh, i love your body, i live to please you, i live for you,” he’ll murmur for the thousandth time against your tongue as his long fingers clasp around your fleshy boob, squeezing with a fearful hold that you’ll pull away and leave him like everyone else

levi

• sex. with you. a lot.

• he doesn’t talk about his feelings or explain his emotions. there are no conversations about his past and his future. they all start one sided, and end in sex

• it’s a cop out. he knows it, you know it, but it’s so fucking good you don’t really care

• every time you try to ask about his family, his friends, his career, or even if he thinks there’s a future between you two, he’s avoiding the question and shoving his tongue down your throat

• he keeps his hand around your neck as he kisses you insistently, as he tries to kiss you until you’re dizzy and you forgot that he was trying to distract you in the first place

• gets needy and wanting, turning you around, stripping you, and bending you over before you could say a word

• impatient and selfish. he drops some lube into his palm and slicks his own cock up, shoving two or three fingers in you for short, to-be-desired thrusts before he’s gasping over you and inching the tip to your exposed muscles

• he chortles airily at the hearty moan you release once he presses inside, the euphoria encompassing his dick and shipping through his bloodstream

• he practically bends you in half, arranging you so he’s pounding into your pussy with your ass presented to his face and your own face shoved into a pillow, mascara and eyeshadow staining into the sheets at the growing desirable ache in your abdomen

• smacks your ass until his handprint is visible as he relentlessly shoves himself inside you, as he gives you every inch of muscle control and strength he has

reiner

• chronic cigarette smoker

• built balcony and patio attachments to your house so he could easily step outside

• you watched him build them shirtless and sweaty, a lighter tucked loosely in his low cut pant pockets and a cigarette lightly held behind his ear

• tries his best to cover the sour tobacco smell with rustic vanilla or mahogany colognes. up for debate when it worked, but the mix of scents really could be oddly pleasant sometimes

• he’s haunted by regrets he won’t even tell you about. doesn’t want to burden you, or rather burden himself with the knowledge that then you’d know too, and there really would be no running away

• you could see them as shadows behind his glassy eyes, always lingering when the lights were on and engulfing him in the dark

• you took it upon yourself to lift his moods, to break him free from the thought patterns that kept him chained to his lot in life

• brought the metaphor to life and bought handcuffs and rope, tied and locked his ankles and wrists to the bedposts, his vulnerability on full display

• his whole body was blushed pink as you gingerly caressed him, crawled up and down his rigid muscular body and ran your sharp fingernails and tongue down his center

• you reminded him he was chained down when he abruptly reached up and out for you, his wrists aggressively slapping back against the mattress or his legs threatening to break the post with fast squirms

• like a wolf chasing after a rabbit, reiner huffed and drooled over you and the sexy shapes you made with your hips as you wiggled all over him, grinded against him and relished in the whines and begs to be released from his holds and touch you

armin

• first got into gambling when eren convinced him to go to a casino for his 21st birthday

• and while the huge crowds and loud noises and overstimulating lights originally raised his anxiety, the adrenaline and excitement of playing and winning won out

• tried to quit a few times but always found his way back to gambling and betting

• card game aficionado. loves the tactile nature of it, always plays with the corners of the cards with his fingertips. sometimes you catch him shuffling and playing cards in his free time at home

• poker is easily his favorite, especially because he can read people like a book. you could never lie to or hide from him

• refuses to say it’s an addiction. it’s more of an intricate hobby, or a challenge he has to bet his way out of

• the worst part is he’s actually pretty good at it and wins more than seventy percent of the time. but when he loses, he loses and he obsesses over it for days

• during good streaks he buys you expensive knickknacks and trinkets and blankets and jewelry, takes you out to dinner more frequently

• feels extra confident when he’s on a hot winning streak, buying you lingerie and telling you to wear it, to turn it into a show for him in the bedroom with him sat on the bed and the lights on

• his hot hands and cold metal rings needily grasp at your sides, his wet tongue caressing the lacy line where the lingerie met your cleavage

• he’ll get impatient, too turned on with your dance to contain himself so he’ll pull you onto his hard erection and bite the nape of your neck to hold you in place

• he’ll stand up and turn you over, hover over you as the mattress shapes to your curves and armin’s hands follow

• loves fingering you with three to four fingers, his eyes doubling in size as he watches your muscles stretch and encompass the appendages. has to clutch the base of his dick like a cock ring to prevent himself from cumming at the site and at the warm, blankety feeling

• sometimes likes to be a bit cheeky and not take his rings off, letting the rings escape inside your opening and feeling it slide toughly against his skin in contrast to your so soft, so sensitive, so inviting body

• the cool metal of his rings was always enticing, and you always gasped heartily and physically thrived at the hard cold material inside

• “oh, shit, baby, i think my ring came off inside you,” he tells you calmly with a wide premeditated smirk, his fingers going limp inside you, “let me just get it out real quick”

• he’ll poke and prod and fold his fingers against your tissue as the ring moves loosely inside you, as you feel yourself building to an inescapable high with armin’s cheeky smirk between your legs as the ring just so happens to keep slipping from his grasp

jean

• jealous jeanyyyyyy

• glares at other men as they talk to you, even if it’s something as innocent as asking for directions or for a petition signature

• usually steps between you and the offending man, escalates the situation beyond necessity by antagonizing the man and firmly demanding an apology for wasting your time

• his blood just boils like hot water in a kettle when he sees you with someone else, someone that’s not him but it should be

• has issues sharing, so there was no way in hell you were slipping out of his attention, and he’s arrogantly insecure, to the excess point that you should only see and talk to him. he’s all you should need right?

• when he saw you calmly talking to eren he flipped his lid, said fuck it to the world and interrupted the conversation

• brings you to the nearest private (i.e., empty and lockable) room and pushes you against the wall or door, his hand firmly locking around your neck

• his hands were so large your whole neck was covered. his fingers were so long the tips touched at the back. his grip was present and firm, and maybe a bit threatening

• “do i speak another language to you? am i on another fucking planet so far you can’t even hear me?”

• he’ll slap the wall next to your ear with his open palm, smirk as you jump from surprise at the sudden outburst

• he leans closer to your ear, the pressure of his hand against your windpipe slightly increasing, his wet hot tongue flicking against your sensitive exposed ear

• “do i need to teach you another lesson?” another light squeeze. “on how to behave?”

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r0ttenhearts · 10 months

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cold tea

sypnosis: after scaramouche’s erasure from irminsul, something in him changes

angst, arguments

“here scara, just how you like it.” scara’s pale, slender fingers hold onto the mug tenderly, giving you a rare smile as he drinks the bitter liquid.

“you always do know how to make it perfectly, (y/n).”

you smile as you hug his shoulders, pressing a quick kiss to the side of his head. “well of course, my dear. i have to know these things.” “that’s what i love about you.”

it seemed like so long ago since you had moments like that with him. if you made him a cup of tea like that now you’d only be met with a bitter glare before he’d leave the table.

it all changed after he erased himself from irminsul. luckily, you still remembered him, but you almost wished you hadn’t.

sure, scaramouche before he erased himself wasn’t always pleasant. but he had a soft spot for you and only you, a gentle kindness that was hidden behind closed doors. now it seemed like his unwavering anger was the only thing in your shared home.

the nights he’d spend next to you were now long gone, you knew he’d taken up the traveler on her offer to travel teyvat together. a part of you felt happy for him, happy he had finally made a place for himself to belong, the other half felt bitter as you remembered he’d rather be around her than you.

that gnawing thought chewed through you the longer the time you spend apart. it couldn’t be true right? it was just your overthinking! of course he still loved you, you were with him through everything. from his time as a harbinger, to the time he became a wanderer.

but.. he’d never been gone this long. it had been a month since he departed with that blonde haired traveler. your shared home now felt like it was never shared.

that was until you saw him sitting at the table, sipping on a dark liquid as he cradled the cup in his hands. his eyes seemed lighter as he drank from the cup, his eyes flickering to yours.

“oh, you’re back.”

you nodded, smiling softly before sitting in front of him. your heart clenched, watching him hold his cup so tenderly. you had missed this view so much.

“we need to talk (y/n).”

you nod, taking his hand gently and squeezing it. “i think that’s been long overdue, don’t you agree? it’s been so long since—”

“we need to end whatever this is. i’m in love with the traveler, i won’t continue this and be unfaithful to her.”

your smile dropped, eyes widening at his words. he was in love with the traveler? this was over? no, it can’t be. it was only a month! a month was all it took for him to fall out of love?

“w-what..? hold on a second, scara. we have to talk about this. you can’t just decide to end it like this.”

scaramouche scoffed, ripping his hand out of your grip, his cup now forgotten on the table as he stood. that familiar smirk was on his face, that smirk he always held before he would do something unreasonably cruel.

“there’s nothing to talk about, (y/n). to be quite honest with you, i got bored of you. the way you do things, just everything about you disgusts me.”

he laughs loudly, moving his hands around the room. “i mean just look at this shit! do you think i want to fucking live like this? playing housewife to your delusions? you know, you’re so much worse than you used to be. that’s why i left. i never thought about you while i was gone, not once. not until lumine brought you up to me did i remember your putrid existence.”

tears filled your eyes, you silently wept by the end of his monologue. “then why did you stay for so long?” you quietly asked, your voice cracking.

“because i like taking my anger out on you.” he grinned.

he sighed dramatically at your tears, mimicking the way you struggled to breath at the realization that it was all over.

“go cry to someone else, i’m out of here. don’t bother showing your face outside of here. i’ll make you regret it.” with a slam of your front door, it was the end to a six year relationship.

the months after that we’re some of the worst months of your life. every time you made your way to the city you’d see scaramouche there, hanging with lumine or nahida. he’d always find ways to torment you. tripping you under stalls, blowing wind in your direction when it was storming and you attempted to find shelter, blowing your birthday cake out of collei’s hands so it’d smear all of your face, his cackle being the only thing you could hear as collei attempted to comfort you and wipe the cake off of your face.

your tears eventually won your forest friends over, so they agreed to let you stay in the village with collei giving you weekly groceries and news about what was going on. her sad smile when she’d tell you about the festivals and events that tighnari and cyno would made you feel guiltier about the whole ordeal. but you were terrified. someone like scaramouche wouldn’t back down for no reason. his cruelty knew no limits, and that now applied to you.

so why was he here now? his fingers around your wrist a mere 3 years later. you knew it was him by the way his fingers felt, a warmth you had long forgotten about since his time with lumine. “(y/n).. please. i know that’s you , nahida told me you were still here. i just want to talk, i don’t mean any harm to you.”

you shook your head, refusing to meet his gaze as you tried to get away from his grip. the fruits and basket you held now forgotten about on the floor next to you. “please.. leave me alone, scara. i don’t want to talk to you or even less see you.”

scaramouche takes you by the hand, dragging you along to an alleyway, his large hat covering his face as he looks down, your hands being gripped in his.

“let me talk first, okay? then you can decide if you still hate my guts or whatever it is you might feel for me.”

not like he gave you much of a choice in the matter, anyway. you slightly nod, seeing his shoulder slump, his grip on your hands lessening.

“it’s just— it’s been so difficult being alone. i was abandoned again, how ironic. traveler left me once she found her twin.. she had no use for me anymore so she discarded of me like the doll i am. in the time i spent after her betrayal i realized something.. i realized i only ever felt that same happiness with you. you never used or discarded me like she did.

you loved me the way i was, even when i was in the fatui, and after. your love for me never wavered. and i regret throwing that love away so very much. i miss the tea you used to make me, the way you’d take care of me after a long day of battles. i miss you (y/n). please, if you can find the forgiveness in your heart, id like to have a relationship with you again.”

scaramouche looks up at you from under his hat. his eyes were glossy, cheeks tinted with pink as he stared into your eyes longingly, with hope. he looked the same way he did when he had breakdowns over his mother back in inazuma, his loud cries and pleads for answers as to why he was abandoned. why he was so unlovable. now he held the same state for you, it seemed almost ironic by the way he looked at you.

you couldn’t hide your scoff, stepping away from him. “seriously, scara? that’s what you have to say to me after all of these years? like nothing happened you just want me to forgive you. like you didn’t spent a year tormenting me with what i lost with you. i don’t even feel sorry for you in all honesty. i don’t forgive you, scara. and i never will.”

you turned to leave before he stepped forward, grabbing your hand with tears in his eyes. “please..!” you glared at him, shaking him off of you as you left in that alleyway. the same way he left you alone at that table that night.

taglist: @samarill @sakiimeo @astrolomona @dearsumire @saeism @shoheartluv @0kauy

#genshin angst #genshin x reader #genshin x reader angst #wanderer angst #wanderer x reader #scaramouche angst #scara x y/n #scaramouche x you #scara x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x reader angst #scaramouche x y/n

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jasmines-library · 6 months

Note

hi :) can you write sam x reader where she lives with boys and while dean is in hell she and sam are alone together, and she is like the only person who can calm him down

Just a little complication

Summary: The request pretty much says it all. Hurt/comfort with a fluffy ending!

Warnings: Dean's death in s3, grief, guilt.

Word count: 1.2k

Note: Hey anon! I loved this request, thank you so much for asking for it. I'm so sorry that it took this long for me to get to it, but I hope you enjoy.

⛤ MASTERLIST ⛤

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

Dean Winchester was dead. There was no gentle way to say it really, not after you saw the way he was torn to shreds by the Hellhounds. His blank gaze would haunt your mind for a while, burnt permanently into your mind. It was no easy situation to understand, and the suddenness of the situation snatched away so much from you so quickly that it was disorientating. To lose a friend like that was like losing a part of yourself; it left you feeling incomplete. A fragment of who you were before. But it was a different story for Sam.

Sam was racked with grief. At first, he didn’t leave Bobby’s for days. He just locked himself away in his room, with his curtains drawn in his own artificial night, withdrawn into his own mind. The bags beneath his eyes were heavy and cumbersome and the pile of half-touched plates that had piled up in his room had reached a staggering number. But what was worse was the guilt that gnawed at his stomach. It clawed away at him and no matter how many times you or Bobby tried to reassure him that this wasn’t his fault, he refused to believe it.

Eventually as time moved and the days began to get longer and the flowers bloomed, Sam seemed to be getting better. He began to talk to you more, and returned slightly towards his old self. He was still struggling though, despite how much he tried to hide it. You could see the pain in his eyes that lacked the usual sparkle they had. He had also developed the habit of picking at his skin, or biting around his nails as he thought anxiously.

He was chewing at his thumbnail when you noticed something was particularly off. He was restless, constantly shifting his position on the couch or bouncing his leg up and down. Bobby was out of town, following up on a lead with Rufus, leaving you alone with Sam. You had planned to sit beside him and rest your head on his shoulder, but instead you noticed his distress.

“Sammy”? You furrowed your brow, watching him hesitantly.

He kept his gaze down, not daring to meet your gaze because he knew that the moment he looked up at your pity-riddled gaze, all those thoughts would come bubbling over and he wouldn’t be able to stop the river of tears that threatened to fall.

At his lack of response, you sat yourself beside him, moving one of Bobby’s couch pillows out of the way so that you could give him a little bit of space that you sensed he needed. You placed a hand gently on his leg, smoothing the denim of his jeans under your thumb.

“Sam?” You asked again gently, tilting your head towards him. “Talk to me.”

“I- I’m sorry.” He stuttered, standing up abruptly and beginning to walk off. “I can’t.”

His voice wavered as he turned briskly half walking, half running towards one of Bobby’s many alcoves. You followed closely behind him, not missing the way that his breathing got faster and faster, heaving in rugged and uneven rasps that were sure to hurt his lungs, but he seemingly didn’t care as he made his way through the house, weaving between the empty beer bottles and discarded books that no one had bothered to clean up. The way his hands shook made your heart clench as his body trembled. You called after him, trying to grasp his attention. When they finally broke through his hazy mind, he turned and you saw his tear stained cheeks and they way that the droplets had streamed down his face and beaded at his chin before splattering onto his shirt.

Your face softened. “Oh Sam…”

“It’s my fault.” He choked out through sobs. “If I- He did it for me. Because I wasn’t strong enough to finish him off. If I had just done it then I wouldn’t have died and then he wouldn’t be-”

“Sam. It’s not your fault. No one can stop Dean.”

Sam took a wavering breath, clenching and unclenching his fists, before turning away and swiping the contents of the desk to the floor, some things bounced and rolled across the floor, others shattered or landed with a heavy thud, but neither of you paid much notice as Sam continued to spiral.

“This is so stupid!” He said. “So stupid-”

He raised his hands again, but you took his wrists in his and held them still. Almost immediately at your touch he calmed down. His body still trembled as he cried silently. Your hand found itself wiping away the tears from his eyes as you hushed him.

“It’s okay Sammy, you’re okay. Deep breaths.”

You inhaled deeply, pulling the air into your lungs before releasing it again. With his hands in yours, he tried to follow the rhythm of your calmness until eventually it slowed to nearly normal pace.

“Good.” You smiled at him reassuringly. “You’re doing so good, baby.”

“I’m sorry…” He whispered as you sat him down on the plush chair in Bobby’s office.

“It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“I just - I miss him. So much…”

Your heart broke and he pulled you close to him. “I know you do, Sammy. I know. But its gonna be okay. We’ll figure this out. I promise.”

He sniffled and nodded soundly.

The two of you spent the rest of the evening snuggled up on the couch together, with you laid out across his chest. He clung to you desperately as the sun cast a golden hue over the window before dipping below the horizon to be replaced by the moon. The pair of you didn’t move for hours as you scrolled endlessly through TV channels and crappy movies that Sam secretly loved no matter how much he tried to hide the little smile that snuck up on him. It was something that he had needed desperately. Not so much a distraction, but a reminder that you were there for him and that things would be okay, eventually. Even if they took a little bit of working out like things do.

When Bobby bustled through the door, rifle slung over his shoulder, the house was silent and dark save for the Tv which was flickering with life. As he rounded the corner, he melted at the two of you wrapped up within each other's embrace. He was glad to see the way that Sam relaxed around you. It was then that he saw the mess of his house and after frowning, he just shook his head and laughed soundly with a sigh.

“Idjits.”

#supernatural #spn #supernatural x reader #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester #spn x reader #angst #hurt/comfort #guilt

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htchnr · 5 months

Text

02 ★ heartless love crime ❥ ch: the reason to hesitate.

➻❥ masterlist. ➻❥ buy me a coffee!

CW ➥ aaron being a jerk ⋆ rough sex ⋆ unprotected sex ⋆ finger fucking ⋆ oral sex (f!receiving) ⋆ overstimulation ⋆ degradation ⋆ aaron calls you a slut a few times ⋆ choking ⋆ smoking ⋆ possessive behaviour ⋆ if i missed anything, lmk!

WC ➥ 5,3K.

SUMMARY ➥ This was why you didn't want a blind date. Aaron Hotchner, your reason to hesitate. It wasn't like you were tied to him, he wasn't yours. But still...

AUTHORS NOTE ➥ hi 😁 this is not a nice series! i want to make that clear!! Hotch is toxic, rude and awful in this. (yet so hot at the same time uhg)

➻❥ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫. ➻❥ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫.

Vanilla or caramel? Caffeinated or decaf? You stared between the flavors of canned coffees, unsure of what to get. It was well past midnight and there you were, standing in front of the freezer doors at a 7/11, debating on something so minuscule as what coffee to drink.

You had bigger things to think about. Like, how your friend set you up on a blind date with a friend of hers. Brunch, tomorrow, but you couldn't let yourself go home yet. You couldn't let yourself get under your covers and sleep. The little pout you gave to the freezer doors as you crossed your arms gave away how much you couldn't do this.

Susan meant well. She always did, but you weren't ready to date. You didn't want to date. Didn't want to put yourself out there. Yet, you couldn't say no to the brunette. So, now there you were, debating what coffee to drink past midnight because that's the one thing you can make a decision on. The one thing you knew you couldn't screw up.

You let out an unsteady breath, wiping the tears that welled up in your eyes with the back of your hand. This was stupid. You could do this. Say no. Don't show up. Tell them you have a boyfriend.

But you don't.

"Excuse me."

You ducked your head, a small apology slipping out of you as you back-stepped from the doors for the stranger to grab the energy drink from the bottom shelf. They walked away as swiftly as they came and you wondered why you couldn't be like them. Be assertive.

Instead, you gnawed on your thumbnail, staring harder at the coffee. Maybe you should get an iced tea. You inwardly groaned. It was hopeless, you didn't have it in you to say no. For all you knew, this guy was nice. He had to be someone Susan trusted. And she knew you well enough to not set you up with someone completely incompatible.

It'd be fun. You didn't have to agree to a second date. All you had to do was go on this one, tell him you had a good time, but that you weren't looking for a relationship. There, it's easy. Spend time with this guy and let him down easily. You nodded to yourself, deciding on the vanilla flavor.

The can was cool to the touch. Condensation made it slippery in your hands, but you held it close as you made your way to the counter. Just as you turned the corner, the bell above the entrance dinged, but you paid no mind.

You did, however, pay attention when a familiar person got to the counter before you.

Aaron Hotchner drummed his hands on the counter, offering the young cashier a charming smile. From the way his jaw moved, he was chewing gum. The girl smiled pleasantly in return, that Hotchner's charm is irresistible. He raised his pointer finger. "One pack of Marlboro."

"Will that be it?" She reached overhead to grab the pack he wanted.

Aaron leaned one elbow to the counter, hip jutted out as he reached into his back pocket for his wallet. He must've seen you in his peripheral vision because he turned to take you in completely. His eyes raked over you once, landed on the drink in your hand, then he took it out of your hold and placed it on the counter.

"This too."

The cashier's smile dimmed, seeing how he acted with you. She saw you come in, no doubt, but you couldn't help but feel bad. It was for the best, you thought. She didn't need to be dragged down to his clutches. Once you fall for his charm, there was no going back. You would know.

"Okay." She rang up his total, to which he swiped the credit card through the reader. Her expression had sullen but picked up as he winked at her when grabbing his things.

"You have a nice night." The gum smacked between his teeth. He turned, missing the brighter shift in her expression. You held out your hand for your coffee, but he just walked past you.

Oh. You followed after him, but not without a deep, anxious feeling gnawing at your stomach. This was why you didn't want a blind date. Aaron Hotchner, your reason to hesitate. It wasn't like you were tied to him, he wasn't yours. In fact, you didn't want to run into him tonight. You didn't think you would actually.

But, god, did you cross your fingers that you'd run into him.

Aaron stopped a ways from 7/11. He stuffed the pack of cigarettes in the breast pocket of his coat, looking over your coffee with mild interest. Back leaned against a wall, he pulled the tab of your coffee and took a sip. A small indignant noise escaped you, hand raised to stop him, but you couldn't do much.

His face scrunched and he held the can out to you, his fingers pinched to the rim of it. "That's sweet."

"Yeah," you agreed, taking the can. Might as well drink it now, though you wanted to wait until you were at your apartment. It was already open, thanks to him. "It's a frappe."

"Whatever." He took out the pack he just bought, peeling away the wrapper. He eyed the multiple pockets of your coat and shoved his hand into your pocket, stowing away his garbage. You let him, but not without a sudden breath to showcase your annoyance. Better this than to litter.

"What are you doing out here?" You asked. "I don't see you around these parts."

Not unless he came to fuck you, as the street you were on was a good two-minute walk from your apartment.

He shrugged as he took out one cigarette and repocketed the pack. Aaron waited to light it, twirling the stick between his thumb and forefinger. "Stopped by your apartment. You weren't there." He glanced down at you, then to the street, finally pulling out his lighter. "Now, I know where you were."

"Oh," was all you said.

You leaned against the wall next to him, taking small sips of your coffee. The wetness on your hands didn't bode well with the chill. You pulled at the sleeves of your sweater from under the coat, giving yourself sweater paws, makeshift gloves, so the can wouldn't freeze your fingers. Aaron took several drags, not bothering to keep up the conversation.

You really wanted to stay with him, but you knew you had to get to bed soon. You took one more sip of your coffee for a confidence boost and pushed yourself off of the wall, walking by him. "It was nice running into you, but I gotta go."

He stopped you with one question. "What's the rush for?"

You gulped and paused your steps, but didn't turn. You wanted to give off the air that the conversation had ended. He didn't seem in the mood for small talk, and you really didn't want to stay out later than you had. "I have a thing tomorrow."

This captured his attention. He scoffed and you turned in time to see him shake his head with a smile behind the cigarette. He took another drag before giving you a pointed look. "That's tomorrow. What, can't spend a few minutes with a friend?"

He was right. You couldn't spend a few minutes with him. It wouldn't be for a few minutes. You knew you didn't have it in you to break off from him. If you stayed, you'd be with him for more than a few minutes. It'd mean you end up fucked and abandoned. Not to mention the hours of sleep you'd lose. Once Aaron had you in his clutches, he wouldn't let go and you wouldn't try to get away.

You took too long to respond. He flicked the cigarette to the ground and crushed it under the sole of his shoe, joining your side. "I'll walk you home."

"Oh, you don't have to," you sputtered. You shook your head with a noncommittal shrug. "I'm fine on my own."

He scoffed. "It's late at night. I'm not letting you walk home alone."

You didn't have a way to refute him. You could try and he'd eventually let you, but you didn't want to anger him and that small part of you begged for him to come home with you. Aaron just had a way into your heart, as well as your pants.

"Okay," you muttered.

Your fate had been sealed at that moment. Aaron walked next to you in silence to your apartment. You held your can to your chest, struggling to keep your expression annoyed. In truth, you were anything but annoyed at him and that pissed you off. Aaron had you wrapped around his finger. The man beside you couldn't stay out of your life for one moment without it affecting your mood completely. You were pissed at how giddy you were to have him walk you home.

Aaron's arm shot out in front of you, palm facing up. Your head sunk down, a double chin formed as he snapped his fingers. You raised a brow at him. "What?"

"Let me have a drink."

You scoffed. "What? I thought it was too sweet for you."

"Doesn't matter. I'm thirsty."

He waved his fingers a few times before you relented your drink. You pouted as he threw his head back and downed the whole thing. "I wanted to finish that, you know?"

You passed a trash bin that he dumped the can in, but not before he crushed it in one hand. To show off his strength, of course. He let out a satisfied sigh, smacking his mouth twice to you with a smile. Astonishment flooded you as his head turned away to spit his gum out of his mouth. You forgot he even had it in there, with the smoking and drinking. That had to have been gross. The small part of you that worshipped him was acutely impressed by how far he launched the gum.

He wrinkled his nose, moving his lips in a circle, smiling at you again. "Tough."

You turned your head away so he wouldn't see you roll your eyes.

"You know I bought it, right?"

"I never asked you to."

He scratched at his jaw, the two of you paused at an intersection. His eyes flicked down to you, judging you, but he stayed quiet. Silence enveloped you the rest of the walk.

When you got back to your building, Aaron followed you up to your floor. He didn't need to insist, as you never really dismissed him. It was partially on you for enabling this, but you couldn't help but hold your tongue and see where this would go. Blind date tomorrow or not, as Aaron Hotchner leaned against your doorway, tongue pressed against his cheek, you basked in his attention.

You were easy.

The apartment door opened, Aaron gestured for you to enter first. First. Not using this opportunity to part ways, he wanted you to enter the apartment first, before him. And you didn't say anything as you walked in and kicked your shoes off by the entrance, as he carried himself inside and lightly kicked the door shut behind him.

You tried to stall, to get him to leave on his own, by detouring to the kitchen. There, you grabbed a glass from the cabinet and poured yourself water from the faucet. Aaron followed you, eyeing you as your fingers strummed on the countertop of the island, glass held to your mouth with small sips.

He gave a soft scoff, turning away from you. "I gotta piss."

You nodded to let him know you heard him, eyes trained to the counter as he walked to your bathroom. Strumming your fingers, you exhaled deeply through your nose. If he could just excuse himself out. You didn't want to be the one to kick him out, you didn't want him to leave, but you needed him to. This was already a dangerous game you were playing. You needed to be up early to get ready tomorrow and it was...you glanced at the clock.

Half-past one in the morning. Great. You hoped he only came in here to piss and leave, but you also severely doubted it. Once in your apartment, he was almost always glued to you, fucking you until you were putty, and then he'd take his leave.

You heard the sink but not the toilet, turning your head as the door opened. Aaron stood with his hands grasping the doorframe above. A nonchalant look on his face as he swayed back and forth. You could see his stomach peeking from under his shirt. He smirked, already aware of where your gaze fell, leaning forward more. His shirt pulled up further and you downed the rest of your water.

"Your toilet won't flush," he said.

You shook your head. You forgot to mention it to him. "Uh, yeah. Just jiggle the lever. It's touchy like that."

He reached down to the toilet, doing as you're told. His brows rose when the system flushed, humming to himself. He washed his hands again, before he made his way over to you. "You should get that checked out."

"Yeah," you agreed. "My landlord's being a bit of an ass about it, but it's fine." You waved your hand dismissively.

He hummed, grabbing the counter once he stood next to you. You tried to ignore the way he leaned with his head tilted at you, a promising look in his eyes. He sighed, rolling his head once. "What's up with you?"

"Nothing."

He followed your gaze, intensely aimed at your glass like more water would magically appear. He tilted his head the other way. "You're acting differently."

Different as in you weren't throwing yourself at him. It took everything in you to not jump on him right there, to pull his face to your and make out with him. You shoved down any thoughts you had about him fucking you, rubbing a circle into the counter with your finger.

You set the glass in the sink, opting to wash it later, and shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"So coy." He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. His eyes fell onto your microwave, noting the time. "Is this about your thing for tomorrow?"

"No." You turned to put your back to the counter, also looking at the time. "Maybe I'm just tired."

He scoffed, smile growing. "Bullshit. I know how sluggish you get when you're tired. You're wide awake right now."

"I just need to get up early for my thing-"

"So it is about that?" He rounded you to place his free hand on the other side of you, trapping you against the counter. "What is this thing?"

You glanced down at his lips. "Uh." You shook your head. "It's, you know, a thing."

"Damn, sounds mighty important." He cocked his head at you, smiling unbelievably wide. "Be a shame if you missed it, then, I'm guessing?"

"You'd guess correctly." He stepped closer, placing his hands on your hips. Your body was all but still as he pressed his front against you. "And, I think, uh-"

"Go on."

You suppressed any lustful desire in you, just long enough to scoff and put on a pout. "I don't need to tell you my plans."

"But you can tell me to leave." He raised his hand to push stray hairs behind your ear, massaging his thumb into your hip. His tone feigned care. "Go on, tell me you want me to leave."

"I-" The words died on your tongue. Your pout grew. He knew you wanted him there, that this thing wasn't as important to you as having him there with you.

"Knew it." You squeaked when he picked you up and sat you on the counter, positioning himself between your legs. He rubbed circles on the inside of your thighs, your pants nulling the friction just enough to still shiver from his touch.

"Aaron, I--" You only braced your hands on his biceps as his expert hands unzipped your pants. He pulled both your pants and underwear down with you shifting to help get them off. You were a goner. No part of you wanted him to leave now. You didn't try to stop him. You wanted this too much.

So much for trying to save yourself.

He ran his hands up and down your naked thighs. You swallowed down the tension as he brought his face close to yours. Gingerly, he helped push your coat off and shove it off the counter. His face mere inches from your own, your lips parted in a small o-shape as his thumb swiped in a line along your slit.

"I'm going to show you why you won't play coy with me." He pinched your clit, eliciting a sharp cry from you, but soothed it down with his thumb rubbing a circular motion on your poor bud. "You belong to me, so I expect good behavior."

You nodded weakly, biting your lip. He kept his eyes on yours, a challenge to dare look away while he toyed with your clit. Your hands splayed on the counter behind you, face screwed in a twist of pain and pleasure from feeling two of his fingers push into your entrance. The spread was nothing like his dick, but it was no less uncomfortable the first minute.

He thrust his fingers mercilessly into you, eyes half-lidded at the way your face contorted. Your slick gathered around his fingers, down to his knuckles. He thumbed your clit while he fingered you, the noises of squelching flesh making you shiver. The eye contact became too much and your head forward to watch his fingers fuck you to a new high.

He clicked his tongue, scissoring your insides in just a way that you didn't like. You whined, bucked against him. Either to get away, or get him fuck you harder, you didn't know. All you knew was that your arms lazily rested on his shoulders as he finger-fucked you.

"Who do you belong to?"

You tensed from the tightening coil in your belly. Shaking your head, you muttered out a bunch of "you"s, but that didn't satisfy him. Your legs wrapped around his hips. He grabbed your chin, raising your head to meet his gaze and he repeated himself.

"Who do you belong to?"

Your voice came out higher, louder, and breathier. "You. Aaron Hotchner."

He smiled, pleased at hearing his name from your lips. He thrust his fingers harder into you, thumb roughly rubbing your clit as he helped you cum. You froze, hips twitching and the walls of your cunt threatening to swallow his fingers, but he fucked you through the high.

A moment later, you slumped against him, head on his chest as you tried to catch your breath. Aaron placed an arm on your shoulder, keeping you off of him. You blinked, still breathless when he crouched in front of you. Your eyes widened as he pulled you to the edge of the counter.

The slickness swiped under you and you inwardly cringed, dreading having to clean your counter, but were brought back to reality as Aaron blew air against your cunt. Your legs closed around his head, but he lifted his gaze to you. He parted your legs as far as they could go, narrowing his gaze at you.

"Keep them wide open."

You nodded at the command, waiting eagerly for his next move. He took his eyes off of you, spreading your lower lips with two fingers. The man first stared blankly at the juices on your cunt, at the way it glistened under the dim overhead light that you never turned off. He blew air over it again, your thighs tensing from how hard you fought to keep them where they were.

He locked eyes with you and neared his mouth to your cunt, licking a long stripe up the length of it with the flat of his tongue, curling the end just slightly to add to the feeling. You softly moaned, face twisting in pleasure. He repeated the motion with slow, long licks. His tongue teased around your entrance and your cunt pulsed for him.

He gradually paced himself faster, his tongue wet and cool against you. You bucked against him, only for him to hold your hips down with one arm while the other hand kept your cunt spread wide open for him. You only twitched helplessly, keeping your legs open as your head tried to loll back but you were so enraptured with the way his tongue fucked you but his eyes now locked onto yours.

"Aaron," you moaned.

His tongue dove into your cunt completely. Your face twisted, your mouth fell open. A small trail of drool leaked out of the corner of your mouth from how wild he fucked you with his mouth. Thrusting his tongue in your mouth, swirling it around your swollen bud, he went the whole nine miles and clasped his mouth around your bud to suck lightly on it.

Your nails scratched down the countertop, moans spilling out of you. Legs pulled an inch out of position, only for you to spread them back out from the hard stare he sent you. God, you shouldn't have been turned on by the near glare, but you were. In retaliation, his teeth grazed your clit and you yelped from the pain, but moaned as he moved his hands to the back of your knees.

You just knew his muscles tensed in his arms, holding you apart for him as you bucked into his mouth. The idea of him using his strength on you only spurred you on. Bucking with reckless abandon, you threw your head back. Your moans were enough to probably wake the neighbors, but you didn't care. The coil returned, tight and on the edge, you wanted release and you wanted it now.

Aaron granted your wish. The obscene sounds, the way he looked beneath you, his glare, and he even let out a low throaty sound. It vibrated into you. All of it combined sent you over the edge, crying out as you came, spasming in his hold, twitching against him, but he drank it up. He didn't take his mouth off of you until you were spent.

Your thighs twitched, but as he stood to his full height, he pulled you off of the counter. You braced your hands on his arms in a tight grip to keep yourself up, legs wobbly. He wrapped one arm around your waist, his free hand cupped to your cheek. To your surprise, he leaned his head down. Your heart fluttered, wondering if he was going to kiss you.

Aaron Hotchner had never kissed you in all the times you fucked. You could hear your heart thrum in your ears, eyes fluttering closed as your lips puckered, body slack. His thumb brushed your bottom lip, before he pinched your jaw. Your eyes widened as he forced your mouth open and spat. He narrowed his eyes with a smile, pushing your mouth closed as you twitched.

Your juices mixed with his saliva melted with yours. You shook your head, shivering in disgust, but he tsked.

"Swallow."

Your cunt spasmed from the commanding tone he used. You'd do anything he said, especially when he used that voice. You steeled yourself, swallowing it down without thinking too hard on it. A cold, disgusted shiver passed down your spine, but Aaron smiled, pulling his palm away to wipe the dribble that spilled past your lips with his thumb.

"Good girl."

You shook your head, face contorted in disgust. "That was disgusting."

"I'll keep that in mind for next time."

You didn't know what to think of that.

He flipped you around, pressing your stomach on the counter. You gripped the hem of your sweater, struggling to get it off. He got it off for you, biting your exposed shoulder as he tossed your sweater past the counter. Your head lolled back, feeling his hands roughly grope your breasts through your bra. He slid his hands around to your clasps. Swiftly, he undid them and you slid the material off, tossing it aside.

He freely groped your breasts, kneading them in a way that had you fall back into him, but he stopped too soon to press against the base of your neck. Your breasts pressed down to the counter, the wet spot from your cunt coating the middle of your torso. It had you shiver.

You heard the sound of his zipper become undone, half tempted to look back, but didn't. Aaron kicked your feet apart, the rough material of his shoes knocked against your ankles. You accommodated him, spreading your legs as far as he wanted.

Pleased, he rubbed your ass before planting a hard smack to it. You yelped. He smacked you again. Your head snapped to look over your shoulder, but he pressed his chest against your back, sandwiching you between him and the counter, his breath fanned over your ear.

"Want to tell me what this 'thing' is?"

The thing for tomorrow?

Fuck no, he didn't need to know.

You shook your head. He rubbed your ass where you were sure a bright red mark had formed. "You sure, pretty girl?"

You held your tongue, but he smacked harder than the other times. Relenting from the pain, you gasped. "It's a blind date."

He froze behind you. You felt him shake before you heard his cackling. He patted your ass gently like you did a good thing. "A blind date? That's it?" His laughter died down and he cooed into your ear. "Think he'll fuck you like I get to?"

You scoffed. "I'm not fucking on the first date."

"'Fucked me."

"You were a one-night stand."

"And yet here we are." He lined his dick up to your cunt, rubbing the head down and up your slit. Your legs shook, but he only laughed. "Does that say something about me?"

"Only that you're my boy toy." You didn't know where this boldness came from, but the rush of adrenaline from talking to him this way gave you a rush you didn't want to stop.

"What makes you think you're not my fuck toy?" He bottomed out in your cunt in one, rough thrust. You bit down your lip with a throaty moan.

"Doesn't matter." You bucked backward into his hips but he held your hips still. All control was his. "We're not even dating."

"That's right." He slid one hand forward, two fingers rubbing your clit. You twitched on contact, sensitive to the touch. He nuzzled your neck with his nose as you writhed under him. "But you know who you belong to."

Still feeling bold, you bit your tongue to refrain from saying what he wanted to hear. It was useless, though, because Aaron Hotchner knew your body. He knew how to make you sing his favorite tune. He gave a monotone laugh, certain he'd break you swiftly.

He continued to give a dry laugh as he thrust into you, fucking you into the counter. You moaned, filled with pleasure despite the slight discomfort to your front. His thrusts weren't slow at all, fast and hard from the start. Your legs were already weak from his previous treatments, shaking like a newborn fawn. He didn't stop, his laugh turned to moans that hit each thrust, his breath ragged.

You arched your back as best as you could against the counter, crying in ecstasy from how he filled your cunt with his sheer size. Going as far as to prop one knee on the counter, your eyes rolled back, he now hit harder and deeper. He laughed at your obscene sounds, his hand finding its way to your throat, he pulled you back against him. This angle caused discomfort, but from how deep he hit and the pace he rubbed your clit, you didn't care.

"Say who you belong to," he moaned in your ear, his head dropping against your shoulder.

This close, you could feel his suit jacket rub against your naked back, the button from his pants hitting the bottom of your ass, right where it met your thigh. Your moans mixed with his, shaking your head as you tried to lose yourself in the bliss.

He squeezed your throat. The tight coil in your belly unraveled with a loud moan escaping you, your hands grasped around his wrist. Your vision became spotty as you came, oxygen becoming harder to receive. You shook in his hold, your walls spasming and you cried out his name. His hand shook from how hard he squeezed you, but he let go and you took a deep breath, another orgasm spilling out of you from the sudden influx of air. A dry orgasm, your walls spasmed around him.

His thrusts increased, losing rhythm and becoming wild. He moved his hand from your throat down to your boob, squeezing it as he brushed his lips against your ear. "That's right. You're mine. You're my slut. I own you. Nobody else."

You cried out, oversensitive, but continued to squeeze your boob, pinch your nipple, rub your clit roughly; he did everything to overstimulate you to the max, to keep you writhing and spasming over his cock. When he came, he didn't relent the stimulation, keeping it up until your spasming walls took all he had to give. You cried, a shaking mess in his arms until you both slumped over the counter, his breaths hot on your neck.

He pulled his dick out of you, your head angled to see the cum spill out of you onto the floor in little droplets, the rest leaked down your thighs. You held yourself up by your elbows as he stuffed his dick in his pants and buttoned his pants.

Aaron maneuvered around you. He took the glass you set in the sink and filled it halfway with water, taking generous gulps. You watched his throat bob as he drank, the lower half of your body still quaking and twitching. He watched you watch him, his gaze back to that narrow judgmental stare.

He set the glass down with a satisfied sigh. His eyes stayed on your figure as he fished out his new pack of cigarettes, taking out the second one of the night. He walked over to you as he lit it, taking a long drag. You raised a brow as he took the cigarette, holding his breath long enough to lean close and blow the smoke into your face.

You coughed, waving your hand weakly. He smiled, a fairly pleasant smile like he didn't just fuck you senseless in all your naked glory while he stayed fully clothed. The pad of his thumb wiped at the tip of his nose and then he made his way to the door.

He stopped just as he opened it a crack, turning to you and waved his fingers playfully. "Have fun on your date tomorrow."

The door closed behind him and you slumped your head against the counter.

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brabblesblog · 2 months

Text

𝕽𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖞𝖊 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘.

Ch 3: An Empty Throne

A sequel to Whither is thy beloved gone? (AO3)

After the events of ‘Whither is thy beloved gone?’ Lord Astarion Ancuńin and his consort wife navigate their relationship anew. The ghosts of the past - his, hers, and theirs - threaten to unravel everything they’ve worked for.

Ban confronts the Ascendant on his subterfuge.

Now professionally edited by @editing-by-night

Originally beta'd by @leomonae

Read on AO3.

Masterlist

Astarion by @morebird

Ban entered the study in the morning, slamming the contract down in front of him. Astarion sat at his desk, studiously ignoring her.

“So you found them,” she snapped.

She saw a quick flash of crimson as he looked at her, then his eyes returned to the sheaf of paperwork in front of him, the contract sitting accusingly beside it.

“Whatsoever do you mean, Ban?”

He lifted his quill, tapping the nib against the parchment. He couldn’t seem to make sense of the text, eyes running over the words without registering them properly.

“Oh, come off it,” Ban hissed. Liar. “You sought them out, bought that mirror, fucked me in front of it to distract me-“

She seethed at the memory of Astarion spreading her open in front of that immense mirror he’d bought, telling her what, in hindsight, had been an obvious fucking lie:

I didn’t buy this from your family, if that’s what you’re so concerned about.

Astarion shook his head, clearly frustrated. “I commissioned the damned mirror, yes. But I-”

“What? You didn’t know? The shop and I share the last name!” Ban bit out, crossing her arms.

“It was meant to be a surprise,” he grumbled.

“A surprise? Oh, ‘hey love, here’s a mirror I bought from the family you didn’t want to ever see again’! Is that what your plan was?”

“They still don’t know. I just gave them my name, Ban.” Astarion finally put the quill down, looking up at her. “I wanted to have the information on hand, should you ever desire to do anything with it.” His lips draw into a tight line.

He’d been trying to anticipate her moments of withdrawal, but her anger was something he was still never quite prepared to manage.

Ban deflated, the anger morphing into an all-too-familiar resignation she couldn't say she'd missed. He was right, she supposed. She could simply ignore this, and her family would be none the wiser. But she knew she’d want to see them, to find out what had become of them.

“You could have just told me, Astarion, instead of hiding the information away and waiting until I found the contract myself.”

Astarion flapped a hand at her; the fingers trembling a little too much to give the intended effect. “And get this reaction? You can see why I was reluctant, darling.”

Ban scoffed at him. She looked down to the table where the contract sits. The name emblazoned across the top of the parchment looks back, mocking her.

Glasscraft and Son

Astarion watched Ban, noting the tense set of her shoulders. The guilt gnawed at him and he chewed on the inside of his cheek, a fang tearing the skin and drawing blood.

“You could simply discard the information, Ban,” he said, the snark slowly slipping away from his tone. “Now that you have seen it, it’s for you to use as you see fit.”

She drew in a deep breath, patience trickling away with every passing second. “You think it that simple, Astarion? One look, and I can decide whether I want to see them or not? Whether I want to know what happened to them or not? I don’t even know if they’re alive!” The shop, after all, could be run by some other family now.

“I could help with that,” he managed to say, his tone clipped. Uncertainty flooded his features; a look that would be rather unbecoming for the Ascendant, if he’d still let that side of him rule his life.

Ban watched as Astarion finally put the quill and papers away, pushing his seat back to stand. He regarded her for a moment, his eyes obviously doing what he always seemed to do nowadays - searching her, trying to read her. She liked it most of the time, appreciated that he tried, but at the moment it did nothing but intensify her pique.

A small click of his tongue, barely audible to her, and he took a small step forward. Close enough that should she want to, she could close the gap but far enough that she had space to leave. “I met him. I could tell you-”

“Oh!” she sneered, all venom and mock surprise. “I’ll now have to thank you for being so, so kind as to gather information for me, sweet Astarion.”

She saw the barb hit his heart; his pupils widening in a fraction of a second, face falling slack. Astarion looked away, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed heavily. At any other time she thought she’d feel guilty, but the anger roiling through her drowned everything else out. Even the idea that she should feel guilty merely served to enrage her further, driving her next words out without thought.

“Since you want to be so kind, then, my love, tell me: what did you discover?” There wasn’t any reason not to find out, not at this point. She eyed him dispassionately as he shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny.

“The proprietor is named Roderich Glasscraft,” Astarion said, with forced calmness. “I assume he would be your father.”

The hurt simmering in him had only grown, hidden underneath the now carefully-schooled expression; but even if Ban saw it, she cared little at this moment.

If anything, a not-so-small, irascible part of her wanted to twist the knife even further, the savage desire for petty revenge suffusing her.

“That he is,” Ban nodded. “Still a little bald shit, is he not? And what of my dearest mother?”

Arlette. Mom. Who’d always demanded the respect she thought she was owed, because I birthed you. The memories flowed in, Ban’s lip curling into a snarl in response.

Astarion shifted again. He retreated to settle back into his chair, apparently giving up on his rather futile attempt to offer her comfort. Crossing one leg over the other, he leveled a look at her.

“He mentioned her, but she wasn’t present.” The crossed leg bounced erratically. “There was also talk of your sibling.”

At that, Ban’s anger abated for a moment, a small sigh escaping her. “Yes, my younger brother. The only one in my sorry family whom I actually regret leaving.” She couldn’t help the next question. “How is he?”

Astarion looked uneasy. “Rode-” He ran a hand through his curls, looking exhausted and strung out. “He said your brother hasn’t taken a wife yet.” There was something else at the tip of his tongue, however, and he bit his lip.

“There’s something more, Ban...” A mere hunch, but Astarion had always been good at reading people, a skill honed over two centuries.

“More.” She sneered again. “Just say it then! Why even dither like that? You’ve already done it - don’t act like some sad puppy now. The Vampire Ascendant wouldn’t - I know you’re still in there, prick!”

Astarion recoiled as if slapped; his jaw clenched and his mind reeled, trying to come up with something, anything to placate her. “Love, pl-”

“Shut up!”

She knew she was being unreasonable, cruel, saw that the conversation iwas hurting Astarion more and more, but she found she didn’t care at the moment; there was only indignation, the white-hot mixing of rage and a creeping sense of being violated. She wanted to keep digging in, to see just how much he could take; see if he’d revert to his old ways, and fight fire with fire.

The Ascendant made an appearance, Astarion’s eyes narrowing sharply, his lips contorting into a sneer. He raised an index finger. “I’ll have you know, Ban,” he began, venom lacing every word. But then he paused for the briefest moment. He took a quick breath, and-

…And just like that, the Ascendant was gone. The fight seemed to fizzle out of him as he collected himself. He let his breath out slowly, face rearranging into a neutral, guarded expression, his hands clenched into fists.

“Your father seemed aggrieved by something, whenever he spoke of your brother.” Carefully said, enunciated slowly and without allowing any feelings to show.

“Aggrieved?” Ban laughed, the sound loud and completely without humor. “My father probably disapproved of something trivial he did, like folding clothes in a way that he didn’t find satisfactory.”

“Ban.” Astarion’s eyes locked onto hers. “It wasn’t that. I think-”

“Fuck what you think!” she screamed. “This is what you do, isn’t it? Assume you know better, because - what - you’re the man of the house? Because you can buy anyone?”

He almost lost control at that, lips curling angrily. “I have hurt you, kept you, used you - but I have never bought anyone; you of all people ought to know that.” His chest heaved, jaw working as he attempted to calm down. “And am I not attempting to fix this? Do I not try so hard to atone for my sins?” He sighed, all the fight in him having evaporated at her accusation.

“As wretched as I am, love, I am not that.”

His anger dissolved away - Ban could almost see it leaving his body. His eyes lost their hardness, and he sagged back against the chair. He covered his face with his hands, obviously resigned.

“You have me confused with someone else.”

The tone was quiet, despondent. There was no mistaking the pain.

Ban stared at Astarion for a long moment. He was right - instead of her husband she saw him, a small man by any measure but immeasurably powerful to her back then.

Roderich had never been a physically imposing sort, even as a younger man, but he’d always had an air about him that had made people inclined to respect him.

It was a respect often mercilessly exploited to great success - a ruthless businessman, rising in the ranks of the artisan guild through various machinations and dealings that had pervaded - tainted - Ban’s childhood. He’d passed those lessons along to her in the hopes that she would help her brother take over the business one day, or help her future husband run his own; lessons that had helped her consolidate power at the Ascendant’s behest, in the first months after they’d moved into the palace.

“I don’t have you confused,” she snapped. “You’re not him, but you’re close.” She wasn’t sure if she should elaborate, but did so anyway. “Power-hungry, manipulative, self-centered bastards.”

Astarion lifted his head from his hands to look at her, realizing exactly who Ban saw in him when she shut him out.

She could see him trying to read her again, his eyes darting across her face with their usual thoroughness.

“Exactly why I wished to know about them,” he replied with preternatural composure, hands clasping together on top of the still raised knee. Astarion’s gaze slid away from her as he looked to the side again. “To know them is to know you, and to know you is to know what you require of me.”

“I don’t need your drivel, Astarion.”

She’d had enough, wanted - needed out of this conversation. She didn’t want to let herself acknowledge that he was right, that their relationship would benefit from him knowing exactly what pitfalls to avoid. Didn’t want to acknowledge that she was blaming him for past deeds he was never made aware were painful reminders for her.

“I’m heading out,” Ban continued, when he didn't answer. She grabbed the contract from the table. From the corner of her eye she could see him keeping his eyes fixed upon nothing in particular, avoiding looking at her. He sat stiffly, almost painfully still, chest seemingly not even rising or falling - frozen, as though he was made of marble, except for the erratically bouncing leg.

A small breath escaped him. “Then I’ll see you when you come home,” he said, trying and failing to hide the question in his voice, tone rising at the end of the statement.

Will you come home?

Ban stared at the shop from across the street. It looked like it always had - squat and unpleasant to the eye - but now it also looked worn. The dust on the windows was of particular interest - her father would have never tolerated that back in the day. For a moment she almost started walking; her legs wanted to drag her forwards, through that door, back through memory and to the people she’d sworn she would never see again.

Days spent in the shop, helping out. Logging inventory, deliveries, receipts. She remembered running around the mirrors in the stockroom, delighted to see multiple Bans running alongside her - her only friends, save for her brother, in what little time she had been allowed to be a child.

A few happy years, before her parents decided to begin training her for what they’d said she was meant to be - a businessman’s wife, capable of assisting with the running of his shop as well as being in charge of his household, skilled at all the social niceties needed to help her husband elevate his standing in society - a relatively useful thing, though not her choice, but they were only surface level qualifications to ensure she’d be successful in her real role…

A pawn to be married off. A name on a contract to bind family fortunes together.

She stayed rooted to the spot for a long time.

The moon shone brightly when Ban finally returned to the palace. She walked in to find Astarion lounging on his throne, arms draped over the armrests, his legs spread slightly. The scent of alcohol filled her nose as she approached him; she sighed. That would explain the unbuttoned shirt and the steely, teasing, not-quite-focused gaze that locked onto her.

“You’re drunk,” she said, arms crossing as she came to a halt in front of the dais.

“Slightly inebriated.” He tilted his head at her, expression coy. “I didn’t expect you home so soon.”

In truth, he hadn’t expected her to come home at all. Fingers tapped on the armrests in a rhythmic pattern, and he leaned forward.

“You were asking for the Ascendant,” he crooned, ignoring the lump in his throat. That wasn’t him, not all of him; he knew that now, she’d taught him that. He’s Astarion - always was, is, and will be. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t bring the monster out to play, if that was what she wanted.

Anything she wanted from him, she would receive. Including this.

A look of consternation crossed her face. “That’s not what I meant.” Ascending the dais quickly, she placed herself between his legs; he sighed but shifted them farther apart to accommodate her.

“What did you mean, then?” His gaze hardened and fingers wrapped around her wrist, nails digging in a little tightly. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

He tugged her abruptly, pulling her down and pressing his lips to hers in a single, well-practiced move. It was rough, his tongue pressing in without much preamble, merely seeking to consume her.

Did she want this? This painful, angry, meaningless sex they used to have? He thought he knew the answer, knew that this was wrong, but the ache of worrying all day at the prospect of losing her again had sharpened his edges significantly.

“Stop,” she gasped against his lips; he immediately stilled, pulling away from her.

Astarion’s bared chest heaved. “Ban, I-”

I’m sorry. Words he’d never learned to utter, and so they got stuck in his throat.

She offered him a sad smile, understanding. “No. I’m sorry. I was, am, still upset, but I should never have lashed out at you like I did. Can we- if you still want this, can we try again?”

“Were you going to leave?” The words came out of him in a desperate rush, spitting them out before he could reconsider.

He said it before he thought, hands gripping the armrests to hide their trembling. His one greatest fear, the one thing he could not endure. He worried it was happening again, that he was bound to lose her again - she was here right now but what if she started slipping away again bit by bit like sand slipping through his fingers like before and he didn’t want to think about it because she won’t leave but what if-

“Please. I need to know,” he choked out, barely managing it around the swirling chaos of his mind. His eyes shut, heart racing, frantic and frightened and trapped inside his ribcage and everything’s too tight-

And then her. He felt strong, muscled arms wrap around him, holding him close. Her scent filled his nostrils and he breathed in deep.

I’ll give you anything you want; just don’t leave, don’t let me be alone again. Never again.

He heard a whimper; he wasn’t even sure if it was him. He heard her shush him, heard her whisper, her breath tickling his sensitive ears.

“I wasn’t leaving, love. I just needed air. I’m never leaving you again. I’m sorry I left without making sure you knew I’d be back.”

The words soothed little of the panic drowning him, but even that felt like a boon. Part of him found this ironic: here he was, in the seat of his power, so utterly powerless against the weight of his feelings for her. Not that he minded. Not that it would ever be any different. Not that anything else ever mattered.

“I…” Another rough intake of breath, and Astarion forced his eyes to open. She was staring at him, arms still around him, eyes full of worry. She’d pulled away from the embrace, but only far enough to see his face.

“Astarion-” Ban began, but he interrupted before she could finish.

“I’m… fine.” he managed to say it, although he knew he wasn’t fooling anyone. He wrapped his hands around Ban’s wrists, gently prying them away from him. He wanted her touch more than anything, but he didn’t deserve it.

Not when he’d lied to her, not when he’d just grabbed her for a kiss he worried she mightn’t have wanted. Not when he was… this.

These vacillating thoughts raced through his mind and he attempted to rise, to push past her and go to ground somewhere - anywhere - else. He didn’t deserve those worried eyes, that kind touch. He never had, what was he thinking, he was a monster, he was never enough.

But before he could stand and escape, Ban’s hand was on his chest, the touch cool yet comforting against his too-hot skin. “Love,” she murmured, and it was softer than he’d ever heard it since the rite; it gave him pause.

“Sit,” she said. “Let me help.”

He was powerless against her, stilling under her touch. Nervous eyes tracked her and he licked his lips, settling back down on his throne. Ban’s hand followed his chest, palm still pressed over his hammering heart.

“May I?” She inclined her head towards his lap and all he could do was nod. Yes, of course, yes. He’d love nothing more than to have her close, to remind himself that he still had her. He watched her lift her skirt and settle over his thigh, her rump a pleasant press of weight on him.

He wrapped one arm around her waist, feeling the cold, smooth skin slide against his fingertips. She was here, she was on his lap - even asked to be there. He didn’t dare feel relieved quite yet, but her mere presence ensured it slowly seeped in regardless. She shivered a little at his touch; his hand paused midway on its path across her back and he waited.

Ban’s hand glided from his chest to his chin, tilting it up so he’d meet her gaze. “Astarion,” she said, her tone still unusually tender. She could tell he needed the gentleness, that he was at the end of his rope, that she had scared him. “I’m sorry. About today. I didn’t think before I said that, or, well. Maybe I did.”

The admission hung in the air, and Ban swallowed.

“You meant to hurt me,” Astarion stated, unsurprised. “It isn’t the first time, nor will it be the last.” He allowed his hand to resume moving, and his fingers curled around her waist, resting around the curve.

I love you. I forgive you. Just don’t go.

“I understand,” he continued, “and will continue to do so. There is nothing to apologize for.”

She shook her head, the hand on his chin falling away to grasp his shoulder, squeezing. “No. That’s not fair. You’ve been putting in so much effort, and while I still resent you for going behind my back and… and even prying in the first place, really… I know what I said was out of line.”

Difficult words for her to utter. She’d never been open, never been outwardly affectionate, but she knew he'd been trusting her with his heart and she had purposefully cut it open.

Astarion let her words sink in, relishing the moment despite himself. A small smile played on his lips, the calm suffusing more and more of him, but nowhere near enough to defeat the lingering fear. “A favor then, love, if you’ll indulge me.”

He took a moment to think it through, then gently linked his free arm with the other, encasing her in an embrace. The smile widened, and his eyes were painfully soft when he spoke.

“Make love to me, will you?” The tone was teasing, the smile playful; the gaze was anything but.

Make me feel loved. I need to be reminded.

If you would like to see more of these two and their story, consider reading my other entries in the series "If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there."

Taglist: @elora-the-slutty-songstress @tragedybunny @spacebarbarianweird @ayselluna @enterthedreams @coltaire @qiific3 @misscrissfemmefatale @vixstarria @eatyourheartoutmylove @linllewellyn @ battisonsgf @micropoe10 @thegoodwitchs-blog @akirahime @velcyrptrr @i-cant-get-into-my-other-account @babblebrain-blog @asterordinary @last-but-not-the-least @artist4theworld @gracemisconduct @decadentcoffeewizard @rootin-tootin-n-kind @pursuitseternal @youngtacobanana @krispeenuggiez @girlygmer-blog @cheezits4lyfe @vinegarjello @the0ldmann @wisteriaofthegraves @girlygmer-blog

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rinneroraito · 3 months

Text

am I making you feel sick

"Do you think you will ever love somebody so much you'd let them cannibalize you?" L looks at you wide eyed in curiosity, the spoon that was supposed to bring a scoop of mousse into his mouth stopping midway. He could never tell what you were thinking, and this was one of those times. You stare back at him, pressing the back of your fingers to your lips. "...or you would consider cannibalizing them?" You continued. L kept his eyes trained on you as he brought the spoonful of mousse into his mouth. He mulled your question over as the dessert melted. Your mind was such a curious case to him, he wondered where these questions came from and why you had to ask them indiscriminately. You were working on such a high-profile case but here you were, asking about cannibalization as an expression of intense desire. Nevertheless, he entertained your musing. "Miss Uehara, I've never actually thought about that before. But now that you've asked, I think I'm actually curious about how human meat tastes like." You ease yourself back into the couch you shared and he started poking at the smooth surface of the mousse in his cup. "As for the aspect of adoration so fierce that I would consider consuming the flesh of my significant other..." he paused, sticking the spoon deep into the cup that it stood in the mousse. "...I don't see myself reaching that conclusion as of now. Maybe I will, for the right person. But may I ask, what's the appeal behind it to you? Would you do the same? Would you cannibalize your lover, would you let them cannibalize you?" "Some people would say it's romanticizing abuse, but to me there's just something exceptionally romantic about loving someone so fierce you'd consider consuming their flesh." You reply, pressing a hand to your cheek as you bit at the tip of your pinky. "Not for nourishment, by the way, it's more about the desire to have the person you love live inside you, course through your veins, become part of you in an intangible way." "Does the flesh of your significant other have to be raw or should you cook it? Would you bite it off of them while they're alive or when they have already passed?" L asks, genuinely curious. "Now you're asking the real questions." You chuckle as you scoot closer to him, keeping his gaze in yours as you continue to speak. "I'd bite the flesh off of them if they'd let me, and I'd let them do the same, actually. All bloody around my chin as I tear it off of whatever body part they'd let me sink my teeth in. Imagine the metallic taste filling your mouth as you gnaw at them, all the force you have to apply just to tear a chunk of their muscle off of them. And then you chew, and it's tough, and it's not the most appealing taste but it's them, so you swallow..." Was that a twitch on his right eye you saw? You could feel like he almost grimaced at your answer but his stoicism always wins over. "That's gruesome, Miss Uehara.." "Am I making you feel sick?" You grin at him and small smile tugs at the corner of his lips in amusement.

#l lawliet #L Lawliet #l lawliet x you #l lawliet x y/n #l lawliet x reader #ethel cain #YES IT'S A STRANGERS REFERENCE #Strangers #death note

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cassieuncaged · 7 months

Text

The Price of Compassion - Part 2

Part 1

Astarion x Female Reader

Summary: Astarion attempts to keep you at an arm's length. However, your wit and kindness are overpowering.

TW: suggestive material, brooding, language (?), etc.

WC: 2.2K

A/N: Listen, I got carried away. The spiciness will be in the next chapter. Maybe the next two chapters actually because this story got slightly extended. Oops...

Also decided to use 'Down by the River' as an in universe lullaby because it's such a lovely composition.

Twigs snapped beneath pointed boots as Astarion wandered to a nearby clearing. Past the ruins south of camp, he thought he’d have an advantage over the naïve bard or at least the foresight to arrive at the clearing first to get rather comfortable.

Such a thought is dashed away as pointed ears are graced by elegant strings, plucked slowly and sensibly before a melodic voice accompanies the tune.

“Lace your heart with mine

Let your sleeping soul take flight

Take me through the night

Down, down, down by the river.”

Cocking his head in curiosity, Astarion soaks in the beauty of your words, contemplating his own loneliness for a second before such thoughts are swallowed. A damned bard will not be allowed to cut him to the bone, nerves and sinews be damned.

No matter how prettily a yarn can be woven into song.

“Hanging moon in fog

Mists will lead where you belong

Sweep me off my feet

Down, down, down by the river.”

“And I thought I was eager.” He coos, sidling beside the gnarled log which you’ve sought purchase upon. Clearly rattled by the intrusion, the fiddle’s bow is raised as a rather embarrassing weapon, earning and amused chuckle as it’s lowered. “What are you going to do? Strum me to death?”

“Strummed taut and keening…” you string words together smarmily, noticing how an ashen brow arches in amusement. “Muscles tight and sweat gleaming…”

“My, my,” Astarion hums, before perching himself beside you. “I may have misread my sweet little bard for a far too delicate treat.”

“We entertainers are fans of debauchery, after all.” Heat rises up your cheeks, stoking the fire that already burns brightly inside your guts. Settling your violin aside, eyes drift to find Astarion’s own glued distantly to the low hanging moon. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come.”

“Maybe that’s because I arrived at a reasonable time,” he smirks, gaze never tearing from the inky canvas of sky. “It appears you couldn’t wait for such a coupling.”

“Maybe the Tieflings were gnawing at my nerves, and I needed an early escape.” Chewing the inside of your lip, the nerves become palpable like a storm of moths fluttering in your guts. You want him, badly. But it appears that such a neediness isn’t reciprocated. Quite the opposite as the vampire folds into himself, suddenly lacking the confidence he so often exudes.

“I’d be inclined to believe you if you weren’t obnoxiously performing with sweet Alfira only hours earlier.”

“Well,” you begin before clearing your throat, feeling more and more exposed the longer you sit with him like this.

“Well ‘what’?” suddenly, icy fingers are twining with your own as you chance a peek upwards. Eyes glitter like rubies, heavy lidded with wanton anticipation. It appears that confidence has returned in droves despite how guarded he is. “You’ve rather piqued my interest, darling.”

“I-I…” your words trail off as the vampire leans in, hand still knotted with your own. Your stuttered breathing rattles in his ears, blood thrumming deliciously beneath feverish skin. Cheeks are tinted with a flush of pink as your lips remain open, parted deliciously. “I think I’d like you to kiss me.”

“Oh, sweet pet,” he tuts, opposite hand snaking around to tilt your chin upwards. “I thought you’d never ask.”

It’s odd when lush lips meet yours, devoid of all warmth as his tongue swipes against the seam of a tightly sealed mouth. But you comply, grappling with the ruffles of his tunic. The laces are loosened, revealing a plane of muscled skin beneath that you deign to run your teeth across.

The coolness of his visage isn’t as strange as you’d assume, absorbing your warmth as if it were his own. Sharp cheeks would likely be flushed pink if anything other than putrid sludge pumped through his veins. Yet Astarion remains painfully rigid as you melt into his delectable touch. Restraining himself emotionally becomes a physical strain when a smooth tongue dutifully slides across your own, caressing soft gums before retreating.

You pull away, realizing that the motions are simply being glided through instead of savored out of unbridled passion. Being starved for so long leaves you craving more. A palm flattens across a solid chest as your own heaves breathlessly.

“Something wrong?” his chin tilts sideways with the confusion of a man who’s never known rejection. “Having second thoughts?”

“No,” your head shakes as lips stretch into a saccharine smile, “You’re rather talented with that silver tongue.”

“Why don’t I show you just how talented I am?” A muscular arm snakes around your waist, closing the gap between you as fangs graze across the tender flesh of your throat.

“Astarion,” you half moan, half plead. “I can’t help but think you’re having second thoughts.”

Such an accusation takes the vampire by surprise, lips frozen against hot flesh. His autonomy has been an afterthought for nearly two centuries, wants and desires swallowed whole while fresh blood was sought for such a treacherous master. Pulling back, he studies you, clearly irritated as brows furrow deeply.

“What in the hells are you talking about? I’m here aren’t I?” This is the second time you’ve seen him helpless in the moonglow. The other was the first night he’d fed on you, frightened and calculating as a creature who had known cruelty for too long, fear settled deep into aching bones.

“Physically, yes,” you ease out the words carefully, sensing the already taut tension tightening further, “But mentally…You’re restrained.”

“It’s my body needed to grant you pleasure.” He growls, eyes glowing like embers of a flame. “Is it not?”

“You seem rather skilled where sex is concerned, Astarion. Surely you know it’s not only about bodily instinct?”

“I-erm…” his voice trails off immediately as a storm brewed behind wine red irises. He doesn’t know. Not completely. His past has been a veritable parade of lovers that craved to feel his body pinned against their own. It had all been mechanical in nature, pure impulse. “Forgive me.”

“Maybe I’m rather old fashioned,” you sigh, awkwardly running your fingers through your hair, “But I always thought of sex as an excuse to truly get lost in someone, body and soul. Isn’t that why you invited me out here?”

“Precisely,” Pearly teeth are tightly clenched, fangs glinting the words tumbled in his brain with a wave of confusion. After nearly two hundred years without any questions concerning his prowess or intentions, it’s you that has to make it complicated. You who has the audacity to want more when all he’s searching for is protection. You who wants to…love him?

That’s unlikely though he figures the prospect would appeal to someone like you. So sweet and emotional. How on earth could you ever fall for a wretched beast like him?

Now he wonders when he last physically enjoyed himself. He wracks his mind for one memory, a lone night in the blur of many that he was concerned about his own ecstasy, enjoyment in the arms of another. But there’s nothing but a black abyss.

“Damn you,” he hisses, pulling away completely before cradling his face in large hands, “This was supposed to be simple! Charming you, seducing you, earning your trust and keeping the spoils for myself. Leave it to the pretty little bard to complicate it all.”

“What are you talking about?” Blinking hard, you’re baffled by what he could possibly be talking about. Was this all a farce? Some cruel prank at your expense? Did he even like you?

“No one has ever burrowed their way under my skin quite like you.” He spits with no small amount of vitriol. “What an irritating, caring being you are! Why are you always so gods damned considerate?”

“I-I-I…” you stutter, watching as Astarion bounces up onto the balls of his feet before marching off with no small amount of aggravation. “Wait!”

Plucking your nearly forgotten fiddle in one hand, booted feet are quick to weave through a sparse throng of trees, following the blur of white and silver as Astarion continues an angst driven trek further into the forest. The splash of running water against rocks and pebbles grows louder when you realize he’s stopped at a lush bank beside a sprawling river. Likely the one that spills into the lake cradling the peninsula where camp is situated.

Astarion allows himself to settle against dewy blades of grass with a huff as you silently follow in suit. The stream rushes downward, rivulets of foam gathering as it does. It’s likely one of many veins that eventually curls into Chionthar River. Eyes glisten at the thought of jumping in to see if you’ll silently drift to Baldur’s Gate. For lack of a better word, this ‘adventure’ has made you homesick. Idly plucking at the strings of your violin, you imagine the many you’ll be able to write upon your return.

“That song you were playing earlier.” Astarion’s voice is hardly a whisper when he suddenly addresses you. “Did you write it?”

“No,” You smirk wryly, “All I’m capable of writing is a rather bawdy ballad and remembering rather tragic songs from my youth, I’m afraid. My mother sang it to me when I was a wee babe.”

“You’ve quite the pretty singing voice,” he quips haughtily, easing back into his comfortable façade. “Maybe one day you’ll write an epic of a rather debonaire vampire spawn.”

“Do you mock me?” Eyes squint suspiciously as you attempt to discern his formidable cruelty.

“If I was mocking you, darling,” lush lips quirk into smarmy grin, “You’d know.”

“Maybe I’ll compose a tune about what a rotten horse’s arse you are.” This earns a genuine chuckle as Astarion stretches out, legs akimbo across the sod as he leans back on his elbows. He looks genuinely…relaxed. Has he come to trust your intentions in such a short time?

“Doubt you’d be the first. I’ve been a roguish fiend for centuries now; I’m absolutely positive I’ve pissed off a rather creative bard or two. Feisty little shits. No offense.”

“None taken,” you giggle, “It’s what keeps us alive and others on their fucking toes. Being a performer isn’t a simple task in the Faerûn. We boast flutes instead of swords, a quick wit instead of quick feet. If we weren’t feisty little shits, we’d have gone extinct long ago.”

“Excellent prey for vampiric spawn,” he sighs bitterly, lost in those dark and swirling thoughts once more, “Then again, so is anything else with a pulse.”

Silently, you ease down into the grass, dew drops prickling against your doublet. A pregnant silence lingers as your eyes drift across stars freckling the sky in sparkling pinpricks. You want to inquire about the protection Astarion seeks. Surely he doesn’t think you’d be any match for Cazador.

What do you offer other than a crude joke tossed at an enemy in hopes of distracting them during battle?

“What do you want?” you look over at the man, skin shimmering like moonstones. Silver waves of hair curl around pointed hair and the corner of lips tug downwards.

“I want to be present,” his voice is heavy with emotion, deeper than his usual timbre. Moonlight splinters through the canopy of trees, giving him a lustrous shine. His tunic billows in the heady breeze, laces undone as you chance another peek at his chest. “Though I fear that may be an impossibility.”

“I’d never push you to participate in any relations…” your voice trails off as ruby eyes shutter, a sigh wracking his body.

“Gods,” A large hand slides down the sharp angles of a statuesque face, “Stop caring. You hardly know anything about me.”

“Maybe I should leave,” you finally concede, attempting to crawl to your feet until icy fingers wrap around your wrist. It’s a silent plea, one that’s only solidified when dark eyes meet your own.

“Please,” his mask has completely dissolved, lips parted ever so slightly. “I enjoy your company. Even if you frighten me.”

“I frighten you?”

“Don’t sound shocked,” he pouts, thumb running circles around a tantalizing pulse point. “You’re more terrifying than what awaits us in the Underdark. Your words bite into my throat like a blade.”

“You would know,” his grip tightens, “Would you like me to rip your innards out with razor sharp talons? Like a fearsome harpy?”

“What lovely pillow talk,” he coos. Astarion grins wolfishly before swiftly covering your body with his own. The motions are ingrained in the folds of his brain, deeper than the wriggling tadpole. But something feels different. This doesn’t erase the past but you soften the moment with sincerity.

You crave him, a sensation that’s sensed through the illithid connection.

“I’d sing your praises if you shower me with those lovely lips.” You croon as your thumbs rub circles into his shoulders, fingers drifting across the ruffles of his tunic. Lamentable is the autumn picker content with plums. The words are a riddle that serve as another cryptic flourish about his personality.

“And I’ll sing yours if you spread those pretty little legs,” his knee hooks beneath yours, pushing it upwards as you arch against him.

Astarion wants to devour you whole and you’ll let him.

Willingly.

Hungrily.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x female reader #reader insert #bard reader #bg3 fanfiction #angst #then fluff and smut

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starlightsearches · 2 years

Note

Your Eddie NSFW Alphabet and what you said about oral makes me want to ride his face on the picnic table with his ring-covered fingers digging bruises into our thighs, keeping us in place and rocking against his face, maybe even despite our protests because he loves eating pussy so much that he doesn't care if he drowns or never breathes again as long as he gets to go between our legs.

Body Electric

I'm SCREAMING with out the S, my friend! Here's something I wrote for the idea 💖 comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated!

Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, language, infidelity (reader cheats on her boyfriend 🫢), fingering (f), oral (f), a wee bit of overstimulation, drug mention, I think that's it!

You've never met a person as flirtatious as Eddie.

He flirts with everybody, but it's different with you. He flirts with you all the time—even when your boyfriend's around.

Especially when your boyfriend is around.

Which is probably why he suggested that you meet up with Eddie alone today, sending you off with a patronizing pat on your ass. "Maybe he'll give you a discount."

Eddie's giving you more than a discount.

It started with a game. Is that what he called it? A game? Or maybe it was a bet.

All you know is he was sitting next to you at the picnic table, making jokes, asking where your shitty boyfriend was with his shitty taste in music and his shitty stick and poke tattoos.

You hadn't meant to laugh. Really. But you couldn't help it when he smiled at you so wide, light dancing in his big brown eyes, his whole demeanor screaming I could be better than him, if you let me.

You'd watched his fingers stroking up the bare skin of his arms, admired the corded veins in his hands and the heavy rings he wears. He was still smiling when you looked back at his face, but there was something heavier in the air between you, something that makes the breath in your lungs catch on the way out.

"I bet he's shitty at a lot of things."

That’s what he'd said to you in a voice that just dripped with sex, your cheeks burning under his smug grin—practically chewing your lip off because he was right and for some reason you were the one embarrassed.

His hands slipped out of sight beneath the table, the tips of his fingers tracing along the inside of your thigh, his touch sending your head spinning better than weed ever had.

And then he'd shifted closer, the ends of his hair tickling at your jaw, hot breath on your neck and you had to keep your eyes closed because if you looked at him, there'd be nothing stopping you from burying your hands in his hair and tasting the cigarette smoke off his lips.

"Me? I'd never be a shitty boyfriend," he whispers, "especially if I had a girl like you."

That's how you ended up with Eddie the freak Munson knuckle deep in your cunt.

And he's definitely not shitty. Got you in tears with hardly any effort, stroking his long fingers against your sensitive front wall, just barely tracing circles over your clit with his thumb. The picture of patience.

He watches you the entire time, gnawing on his pink bottom lip, eyes so wide it's like he's forgotten how to blink, like he doesn't want to miss a second of this. Your own hands are clenched around the collar of his denim jacket, his wallet chain jangling with every shift of your hips. You're waiting to combust, to just burst into flames in his lap.

And then Eddie stops moving, his fingers slipping from your wet folds, leaving you empty.

God, the whine that leaves you is loud enough they should hear it all the way in East Hawkins, but you've got no chance pulling his attention away from his own fingers. He holds his hand up between you, silver rings glinting in the sunlight.

And that's not the only part of him that's glinting.

"Holy shit."

His fingers are shiny where they've been inside you, slick stretching in strands between the digits when he spreads them apart.

You'd thought you'd gotten rid of all your shyness, tossed somewhere among the leaves along with your underwear, but that's not the case. You're on fire all the way down to your neck, burning with shame you're not even sure if you should feel. Maybe you should apologize, just in case it's not normal.

But Eddie's not looking for an apology. He just slips his digits into his own mouth, kissing at his rings before pulling them back out with a wet pop. His spit smears against your cheek when he cups your face in his hand.

"You have got to let me taste you."

Jesus. You should really be more careful about what you're willing to smoke. All that shit is starting to make you hallucinate.

"What?"

Eddie's already on the table, rolling onto his back, flecking off chips of the faded red paint with every shift of his hips.

"Come on," he says, gesturing you over with a nod of his head.

He's actually serious. You press your thighs tighter together, and they stick a little with the spend he's already coaxed out of you. Your ass still stays on the bench.

"What if- what if I hurt you?"

Eddie just shrugs. "What a way to go, am I right?"

You're sure you don't have to tell him that your boyfriend's never gone down on you before, and you're definitely sure that he can tell you've never sat on anybody's face. The pile of nerves in your stomach shifts restlessly, and you know he can see that, too.

"I'm not above begging, baby," he shifts onto his side, leaning close enough that you can hear him when he whispers, "there's a very exclusive discount for girls who ride my face."

For a second, your nerves gone—replaced with an acrid jealousy. "Exclusive?"

He takes your hands in his, fingers intertwining shyly. There's some red in his cheeks when you look at him. "This is the first time I've offered it."

Okay. Okay. There's no way you could say no, even if you wanted to. He could get you to do whatever he wanted with one look from those big, brown eyes. Lucky for you, this is something you really, really wanted.

You press your lips to his before you can lose your nerve, breathing in the smell of cigarettes and cheap cologne and the barest earthy scent that follows him everywhere.

He's good at this, too—damn him—tracing the gap between your lips with his tongue as he helps you onto the table, pulling you into place until you're straddling his hips, body electric at the feel of him.

Eddie urges you up onto your knees, shifting a little beneath you until everything disappears under your skirt except for his smiling eyes.

"Ready, baby?" He asks. His breath feels cool against the burning skin of your thighs.

You breathe a yes, and he's on you, open-mouthed kisses everywhere but where you want him. Your legs are shaking, knees threatening to buckle when you feel the nip of his teeth, his wide, warm hands cupping your ass underneath your skirt, pulling you closer.

"Fuck."

You fall forward, catching yourself with one outstretched palm, totally ignorant to the splinters burying themselves in your hands as he guides your hips against his mouth, tongue spread wide and flat, dragging across your cunt.

Oh god. His lips wrap around your clit next, sucking a teasing little pattern, just barely nipping at the sensitive nerves. You're already overwhelmed by the sensation, trying to lift away from him, trying to find some relief, but there's nowhere to go. His fingers tighten around your hips, cool rings biting against your flushed skin. He's in no position to speak, but you can imagine what he's trying to say well enough. You'll get used to it.

You don't think you could ever get used to this.

He eases off your clit, like he's hoping to make this last, but that’s not gonna happen. Not when he flattens his tongue again, gently guiding the shift of your hips, letting you grind down on him.

"God, Eddie." You don't even know if he can hear you between the pillows of your thighs, but you've got to say something, easing a little more weight down onto his face, adjusting the pressure until it sparks through you again. You have to let him know how good this feels, bracing one hand against the ripped knee of his jeans, arching back for the right angle.

Eddie Munson is smiling against your pussy. He's never shut up for this long before, so you have to imagine what he might say, read the language of his hands and the shift of his hips. Hear his voice in your mind saying the dirtiest shit you can imagine. Use me, baby. Get your fill. Cum on my fucking face.

You're going to. There's no way for you to avoid it, not with one of his hands slipping around to the cleft of your pussy, his thumb sliding between your folds and massaging your clit as he french kisses at your core.

"Eddie, I'm- fuck."

No chance to warn him. You're disappearing, lost in the heat of it—your own personal solar eclipse. It has your vision dimming at the edges and your body shaking as it's overcome, cunt pulsing and head emptied of anything but the places where you connect.

And still he doesn't stop, laving his tongue over your ruined pussy, circling your thrumming clit until you're sure you are going to explode.

"Jesus Christ, Eddie."

You really do fall this time, slumping forward until there's cold air kissing your wrecked center instead of his hot, heavy mouth.

He's laughing, when you look down at him. Slick, shining mouth stretched wide over his perfect teeth, dimples in his cheeks collecting your arousal. He wipes his mouth off on the back of his arm, still grinning when he sits beside you, nudging your shoulder with his own.

"You good?" he asks, like he hadn't almost killed you. Could you die from an orgasm that good? You can't help but feel like you cheated death, like your spirit almost left your body.

And then your heart rate slows, and he's nuzzling his face against your throat, pressing little kisses along the ridge of your jaw.

"You there, princess?"

He whispers the words right up against your ear, nose pressed flat against your cheek, and you've got enough of your breath back to laugh.

"Yeah, I'm here."

You can taste yourself on his lips when he kisses you, slow and way too romantic for what just happened, hand resting on your own.

"Come on," he says, jumping off the table, "sun's gonna set soon."

He picks up your pink cotton briefs from off the ground, brushing the leaves from them. There's a mischievous glint in his eyes when he looks back at you.

"Can I keep these?"

You nod, still a little dizzy. You'd give him a kidney after the way he just made you feel.

You're as shaky as a baby deer when you stand, but he's right at your side, holding you up with a surprisingly strong arm around your waist.

"You okay, baby?"

You nod, biting at your lip. "Can I, uh, would you give me a ride home?"

It's not that far a walk, normally . . . when you can feel your legs.

He just laughs again, pressing another sloppy kiss to your cheek.

"Sure thing, princess. Maybe we can stop at a payphone on the way so you can call up your piece of shit boyfriend and tell him he's not your boyfriend anymore."

#eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #my writing #requests #minors dni

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ceruleancattail · 27 days

Note

ceruruuuuuu whats ur favorite cater card art?

…. Excellent question.

OK MY HEAD WAS BLOWING STEAM WITH THIS ONE, I GENUINELY LIKE ALL OF HIS CARDS… for varying reasons. It’s not because I’m biased because I like him, uh nuh-

I have all the cards of cater released in the en server but that’s just a coincidence, trust me on this one ok-

BUT MY FAVOURITE HAS TO BE HALLOWEEN CATER. HALLOWEEN CATER.

Ok just look at this. He’s serving✨

I love the unique angle of this card, the way he’s slipping off the hat, and the detail of the veil covering his face. It just goes to show the layer he keeps within him and the people around him.

The way he keeps a distance, despite still being “Cater”. I really like the contrast his eyes have to the warm orange lighting and the dark background, because they seem to almost glow, giving an eerie, ghostly sort of effect to this entire card.

The lighting of the Jack’o lanterns illuminating him with a soft orange, ember sort of glow is just so cool. It feels like a sort of artificial warmth, surrounded by the chill of the night. I love love love it so so so much.

I might be reading too much into this card but I have to tear this apart with my teeth I love it so so so so so much GRRRRRRR

THE GROOVY HAVING A INSANE CONTRAST FROM A WARM SOMBER SORT OF LIGHT TO THIS COLD, STRANGE MIST LIGHTING IS INSANE. JUMPSCARE FR.

I love like deranged he looks now, compared to the picture perfect model from the earlier card. His hair is tousled up, he’s on all fours, stretching out towards the camera, reaching for something for me teehee (delusional) AND THE WAY THE LANTERNS LOOK SO MUCH MORE SINISTER BEHIND HIM????

BRO CLIMBED RIGHT OUT OF THE GRAVE WITH THAT SMUGASS SMIRK RRRRRR!!!!!! Biting this card like a freaking chew toy-

FOR THE LONGEST TIME THIS WAS MY HOMESCREEN CHARACTER OUTFIT SHENEJKSW I FUCKING LOVED IT

ISN’T HE CUTE? ISN’T HE SO NAUSEATINGLY ADORABLE???? THE LITTLE WINK??? THE SMILE AS HE HOLDS UP HIS HANDS IN THE “ROAR” POSE???? GRRRRRRRRRR I’M GONNA THROW UP FROM HOW GOOD HE LOOKS!!!!!! HANDSOME BOY HANDSOME BOY!!!!!

I LOVE THE LACE CORSET THING HE HAS GOING ON FOR THE ENTIRE OUTFIT SO MUCH. THE WHITE ROSES (?) ON HIS SLEEVES AS WELL WKSNWJWKWKWKWKEKEKJE IM GNAWING ON THEM!!!!! THE DETAILS THE TATTERED CAPE THE LITTLE SKULL ON HIS FUNKY LITTLE HAT IS EVERYTHING TO ME. EVERYTHING.

I’m just questioning the crotch… like…. Hm. Why? Why is it laced there? Oh well-

BUT EVERYTHING LOOKS SO GOOD HEARTSABYUL ATE THE MAKEUP WITH THE SMOKY EYELIDS MAKES ME INSANELY FERAL I HAVE NO IDEA WHY PLEASE SAVE ME FROM THIS MAN.

ALSO THE GROOVY VOICELINE SLAPPED ME SO HARD I’M STILL SEEING STARS LIKE ON GOD- YANA KNOWS CATER’S TARGET AUDIENCE FR FR ITS ME I’M THE TARGET AUDIENCE/j

FUCK!!!! THIS WAS SUCH A SHOCK TO MY ASS LIKE I JUMPED AND WAS LIKE OH NO I’M BEING CALLED OUT-

Like you could take this two ways. One is the whole “you took the effort to know the real me (dug me up), so you’re now an important figure in my life, please don’t leave me”

AND THE OTHER IS THE WHOLE YANDERE SCENARIO THING LIKE “You know who I really am, unearthed the real Cater Diamond… don’t think I’ll ever let you leave me.”

Am I delusional? Yes. Am I self aware and properly ashamed of myself? Yes. But this VOICELINE gave me brainrot for weeks so this card makes me so so so ill. Ill for this man!!!!! THIS MAN!!!!!

HIS STORY WAS SO FUCKING SAD IN THIS CARD THO I WAS LIKE NOOO!!!! I HATE YOU BUT LIKE BRO DO YOU NEED A HUG??? DO YOU NEED SOMEONE TO TALK TO??? MY MAN????

but yes this is my favourite Cater Card to date. Sorry for the whole ass ramble I got too silly.

#the mage’s hat 🎩#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #cater diamond #I hate him btw but I have to admit he slayed with this one

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heauxvibez · 2 months

Text

Brown Skin Girl

Warning: Talks of colorism, fluff

Took everything in life, baby, know your worth I love everything about you, from your nappy curls To every single curve, your body natural

"Baby girl, what's wrong?" Roman's concerned voice filled the room as he gazed at the pouting woman nestled on his lap.

She lowered her gaze, tears welling in her eyes, tracing paths down her cheeks, cheeks he had come to adore with every fiber of his being.

Sniffling, she whispered, "Nothing."

Roman sighed, a gentle furrow forming on his brow as he brushed a stray coil of hair from her forehead. His thumb moved tenderly, wiping away the tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

"Baby, you can't sit here and tell me everything's fine when you're clearly upset," he insisted.

Sage had endured a lot while he'd been away, busy promoting his upcoming fight. Yet, in his presence, she had always managed to mask her pain, putting on a brave face.

But the relentless onslaught of social media had been taking its toll on her, slowly chipping away at her confidence. Ever since they had decided to make their relationship public, she had become the subject of vicious rumors and hurtful comments.

Oh, how she wished she could turn back time and keep their relationship private.

The cruelty of people's words cut deep, particularly the remarks about her skin color—an aspect of herself she had long since come to terms with. Growing up with darker skin than those around her, she had faced criticism for something she had no control over. But over time, she had learned to embrace and love herself just as she was.

Yet, since the announcement of their relationship, Roman's fans had been awful. They zeroed in on her insecurities until she began to believe their hurtful words.

"You basically downgraded by being with me," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper, her lip trembling as she chewed on it nervously.

Roman's heart sank as he listened to the woman he adored degrade herself. Guilt gnawed at him. As her partner, it was his responsibility to uplift her, to remind her of her beauty inside and out every single day. She had never shown signs of insecurity before, so he hadn't felt the need to shower her with compliments daily, but that was no excuse.

"Baby, what are you talking about?" he asked, shaking his head in disbelief as she shifted in his lap, meeting his gaze with her dark brown eyes.

She sniffled, "Roman, you know exactly what I mean. Look at me, and then look at you. You deserve someone much better than me."

A soft chuckle escaped her lips, "I don't deserve you."

Sage nervously fiddled with her fingers, tears threatening to spill over once more.

"I've heard the same hurtful words my whole life. That I'm ugly, and so is my complexion," she admitted, her voice cracking with emotion.

Roman's frown deepened.

Taking her hands in his, he sighed deeply, his thumb tracing soothing circles on her skin as he gazed into her eyes. She captivated him with her beauty, unaware of the effect she had on him. Even as tears streamed down her face, he couldn't help but be drawn to her.

"Oh, baby girl," he murmured, gently lifting her chin with his index finger, forcing her to meet his gaze. The intensity in her eyes could make any man's knees weak.

The weight of his gaze made her heart flutter, and a small smile tugged at the corners of Roman's lips. Gently, he laid her down on the couch, maintaining eye contact, which caused a blush to spread across her ebony cheeks.

Positioning himself between her legs, Roman held her frame beneath him, his presence comforting and reassuring. Her heart raced in her chest, her pulse quickening at his touch.

Goosebumps rose on her skin as his calloused hands explored the curves of her body, admiring the areas where she had just a little more meat than most people.

His touch was firm yet gentle, eliciting a giggle from Sage as his hands roamed over her thighs, tickling her sensitive skin.

Grunts escaped Roman's lips as he watched her take her full bottom lip between her teeth, the sight nearly driving him wild. How could she dare call herself ugly? Her beauty was breathtaking, undeniable, and anyone who thought otherwise needed their head examined.

Roman's hand caressed the side of her face, his thumb brushing against her trembling bottom lip before releasing it. He shook his head, disbelief in his eyes.

"Sometimes I wonder if I'm even good enough for you, baby. Your beauty is unmatched; you make me look ugly," he chuckled.

Sage playfully rolled her eyes, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"It's an honor just to be with you, Sage," he whispered.

His words touched her deeply, her lips curving into a smile.

Lifting her head, their lips barely a breath away from each other, Sage pulled back slightly. Roman melted under her touch, completely in awe of her.

"And your skin...baby, you know you're my chocolate drop," he teased, causing her to throw her head back in a fit of laughter.

Roman joined her laughter, burying his head in the crook of her neck. His beard and lips brushed against her skin causing her grip around his neck to tighten and a whimper to escape her lips.

"You have the most beautiful skin. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise," he mumbled against her skin, his voice tender.

"We're going to have children someday, and they'll inherit this skin. I can't be the only one reminding them how beautiful it is, can I?"

He pulled away to look at her, his eyes searching for confirmation.

"No," she responded softly, her gaze dropping under his intense scrutiny.

"Our children will inherit these beautiful features of yours, and I can't be the only one making sure they know just how beautiful they are. Right?"

She fought back a smile, her heart swelling with love.

"This skin and these features you're talking about are just a few of the reasons I fell in love with you," he confessed, his voice as soft as her skin.

Dipping his head back to her neck, Roman used his tongue to trace his name against her skin. Sage's breathing quickened as he moved to pepper her jawline with sensual kisses, each one sending her closer to ecstasy.

"Do you understand?" he murmured against her skin.

His kisses trailed up to her chin, tenderly caressing her lips and sucking on her bottom lip. With each touch, Sage felt any doubts she had about Roman's love for her fade away..

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

Ummm okay I'm done for the night lol, I did not know how to end this but I hope ya'll enjoy the three things I've written tonight!

Tags: @harmshake @southerngirl41 @spritelucozade @empressdede @alichesmi

#wwe #roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #wwefanfic #romanreignsimagine #romanreignsoneshot #fanfiction #roman reigns fluff

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multifandommilfs · 2 months

Text

Our Last Hundred Years

Pairing: Andy x reader

Wc: 2377

Angst, fluff ps sorry Nile

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

It had been long since Andy took off to the pharmacy, way too long. It caused worry to brew in your chest. It was usually after a battle that Andy would stay as close as possible to the team to check in on everyone time and time again. Damn it, you buried your face in your palms, paranoia gnawing at the pit of your stomach. What if another wave of army storms in right now? You grit your teeth in frustration, forcing your mind to listen to Nile and Booker's faint conversation.

The door to the old mine creaked open, natural light pouring in. You leapt up instantaneously, giving your teammates an open palm telling them to wait. One step, two steps, you made sure your gait was light as you unsheathed a knife. Yeah, it could very well be Andy, but at this point, you weren't ready to take any risks.

The door to the open space was a narrow flight of stairs and a blind spot just off to the sight where you hid. Thump, thump, thump came in quick succession. In the darkness, your heart sped, the grip on your blade tightened.

The brown coat was what you saw first which was enough to make you launch at her, encasing her in an embrace with relief. She yelped at the blitz attack, body tensing when your arms wrapped around her neck. "Ow shit." She swore softly when your elbows hit her shoulder and you pulled back quickly. Ow? You hadn't heard that since forever.

"Hey, I'm taking Andy out! Just outside!" You hollered while scrutinizing the woman before you.

"Sounds like a bad date!" A round of snickers came from them, and you rolled your eyes. "Says the person who doesn't have a date."

"Ooh! Burnt!" Nile said, but you were dragging Andy upstairs by her arm, hearing her sharp inhalation was more concerning than her absence. Though it might be undetected when it came to others, you had been with her since the birth of everything, you knew her, you could have her tell you what she held back with a look. That's why your glance at her wasn't returned.

You chose a shrouded spot where greenery thrived.

"You have something to tell me." You said with arms akimbo, but let your features remain lax, so she wouldn't feel so asphyxiated by your demand. Nevertheless, she chewed on her lower lip, eyes meeting yours momentarily before they darted back to the grassy ground. She couldn't tell you about it.

You let out a breath, dropping your hands from your waist. "Andy..." Your fingers tipped her chin up softly, her gaze remained everywhere but you. "Look at me please?" You manoeuvred into her line of sight, luring her eyes to you. It was then that you noticed a sheen of tears gleaming in her irises, the downcast of her lips. "I'm worried, I have been worried, will you please tell me what's wrong?"

She let out a bitter laugh, brows furrowing as the tears thickened, threatening to fall. You had always been her weakness and her strength, but most importantly, you were the one she trusted to ravage her mind after Qunyh.

She had to tell you but her lower lip wobbled in fear even when she was mentally preparing herself. A glance to the entrance of the old mine and around it proved that there were no traces of eavesdroppers, so her gaze trailed back to you.

"I went to get medicine for my wounds." She winced at how indirect she was being but you were listening intently.

"What are you saying?"

"My wounds, i- they-" She squeezed her eyes shut. How could something she had desired for so long become something so dreadful? "They won't heal." Her voice turned into a whisper because even she couldn't believe the fact. Six thousand years she lived, and suddenly her immortality was stripped away by the stab of a knife.

When she peeled open her eyelids, she was met with a deep furrow cutting in between your brows. "T- that's ridiculous, no, no, that's not supposed to happen, Andy, are you sure you're not misreading it?"

"I'm sure." She saw how tears prickled your eyes, with red rims already forming around your eyes.

"Let me see it." You said firmly and scuffed your foot as if you were losing balance. Before she could even reply, you tore the coat off her shoulder, immediately sensing the faint scent of metallic. Your eyes were next to see the damage, red seeping out of the fresh bandage.

"Okay?" She asked, shrugging the coat back up as you staggered back in disbelief.

"No." Your exhale was shaky, and your knees dropped you onto the ground. Six thousand years together and you were left with less than a hundred with her. It was laughable but your mind could only connect to the newest member of the team. Shit has been falling ever since her arrival.

"Is it the girl? Is it Nile? It was yesterday- yesterday when she really accepted herself and today- " Tears gathered in your eyes as you dared a look at her.

"I don't know, darling." Her arms wrapped tightly around her midriff. She paused before her eyes drew to you. "We'll figure it out."

"It's her and you know it! Ever since she came, shit's been going down the fucking hill!" Your voice rose, and Andy glanced at the basement door in nervousness. "Stop it!" She hissed.

"She's leaving." Your demand made Andy's gaze flit to you in shock. "No, that's- she has nowhere to turn to, y/n!" Her voice turned into a yell because you were slamming the door open to the mine, heading straight for Nile with Andy on your tail, shouting something. But you were mad, heart pounding, seeing red, mad.

In a quick motion, you dragged the girl up by her shoulders, slamming her against the wall and yelling something you couldn't hear yourself say. All you could remember was Andy telling you, "It won't heal," and the look in her eyes: fright. It was enough to kick up your defence.

"You did this! You did this!" The words mustn't be yours, your voice was never that raw.

Then you were flying back too fast for your legs to catch up. There was pressure around your shoulders. A sharp pain jabbed the crook of your knee and you kneeled. Andy held you in a vice grip on the ground as you thrashed until you ran out of strength. With wetness on your face, you sobbed as Andy hoisted you into her lap.

"I can't live without you, I don't know how to live without you." You pushed your face into the crook of her neck, breathing raggedly.

"You'll live-" she started softly but you cut her off. "I'll exist! I- I don't live without y- you. I won't have a fucking life, I won't have anything, I can't d-do anything!" Your hands gripped her coat. It was an old coat you got for her, it was one of the first coats that were made, but it was still too new to preserve the memory of Andy when you had thousands of years left to live.

Booker could only comfort Nile and stare at the both of you. He was never really a witness to your emotions, having avoided them after he left his family. But here Andy was whispering something in your ear as you held on as if your life were vanishing before your eyes.

The following weeks were never the same, even after the 'experiment for the greater good fiasco', and Booker's hundred year excommunication. You were pulling Andy out of Nile's proximity in hopes that she'd regain her immortality. Joe and Nicky were well-informed of your feud with Nile. They were all adamant it would blow over, but there came a day when enough was enough.

Today was that day.

"You've got to stop this." Nicky leant against the kitchen counter, a small smile on his lips as you busied yourself with dinner.

You made no sound, moving from the stew to put dirty dishes into the sink. "Am I getting the silent treatment too?" Nicky spun you over by your waist when you passed him so that you couldn't avoid him anymore.

You huffed. "You want me to stop cooking? Fine, you take over." You shoved a ladle in his hands, but he crushed you into a hug. "You shouldn't hurt others because you're hurting."

Your fingers balled up his shirt as your chin adjusted to a more comfortable position. He swayed a little, arms tied around your waist. "It isn't Nile's fault that Andy is now a mortal."

"It is, I think it is. You would do the same if it were Joe."

"For a while, yes, I would presume. But you cannot create an answer to an unanswerable question. Nile is not the answer y/n. There is no answer to why we lose our immortality."

He heard you sniffle. "The stew is boiling." You pulled away slowly, putting out the flame and moving to wash the dirty dishes.

"Okay?" He asked when he joined you, pulling you in to kiss your cheek before taking his fair share of dishes. You looked at him, teary-eyed, letting yourself work automatically. "What happens if I don't know? Andy, she's out there right now, with Nile and Joe, and-" you grabbed the kitchen knife, slathering it with dish soap.

"And- I can't function. It's not like I will die but how do you function with the knowledge that you'll lose everything in the next few decades? Not even a century, just five or six decades and she'll-" The blade slipped, cutting your finger as you hissed in pain, garnering Nicky's attention to your wound. Blood seeped out of it, a sight you've seen a thousand times.

Just then, the house bustled with energy as they barged in. Andy and Nile laughing at Joe's joke as they dumped groceries onto the table. Your attention was diverted, and the pain subsided when you had to catch rolling apples and oranges before they hit the ground from the toppled paper bags.

"Watch your head." Andy said softly, resting her hand on the edge of the table when you ducked out from beneath the table.

And you had to savour her affections when there was not enough time to accept them absentmindedly. She saw the exhaustion on your features, the worry that was wordlessly telling her to stop caring about you so that you wouldn't have to miss her that much.

Frustration built up in her, she wanted to care with the time she had left. "Come here for a second?" She requested.

You wasted no time in avoiding her, heading in Nile's direction. God knows you owed her some clarity even if you didn't forgive her.

It was a split second touch, Andy's fingers slipped to yours and you winced in pain. "Fuck!"Your hand was now cradled in another, close to your chest.

The chit-chatter dropped in an instant, everyone's heads creaked in your direction like a nightmare, their widened eyes hovering. "Fuck." You whispered under your breath when you understood the situation.

Then, unexpected to yourself, a sliver of happiness curled up your lips just when everyone started panicking and crowding around you.

Andy was gripping your hand as blood slipped from your finger to touch the back of her palm, leaving a trail of red. Nile, in shock, was left behind when Nicky and Joe, with worry present in their expressions, mumbled something, then closed their eyes, praying and begging for your wound to heal. But it wasn't healing, not in the least when Andy's grip tightened and more blood seeped from the cut.

You were smiling, lipless, as your eyes drifted to Andy's frustrated ones, and you wondered if that was the expression you were wearing when she became mortal.

"I'm sorry." Nile said aloud but it only caught your attention. You turned to her, remembering her pariah because of your doing. "I mean, it's me, isn't it? I'm doing this, I'm causing all your... immortality, I'm..." Tears surfaced in her eyes. "I'm killing you guys."

"No- no. No, Nile, you're not killing us, and you shouldn't be sorry." You paused, glancing at Nicky for affirmation he granted. "I am the one who should be sorry for making you the answer to an unanswerable question. So I'm, I'm so sorry, Nile, for casting you out of our family." You breathed, ignoring the tickle of pain on your finger, and continued. "Being a grownup, I expected more of myself than to outcast a fellow soldier, and I know you do too. I was emotional and irrational during the unexpected. So I owe everyone an apology." You let your gaze linger on each member of your family, your troop, "I'm sorry, Nile, for not treating you the way I should've. Nicky, Joe, I'm sorry for having both of you in the middle of my problems. I'm sorry, sweetheart, for not being more accepting of your change."

Tears dripped down Nile's cheeks. "Thank you. Thank you for that apology." She gritted out through her emotions, wiping away her tears on her sleeve. Nicky and Joe gave you a watery laugh of relief while Andy's nails dug lightly into your wrist, reminding you of your wound. "So, um, I'm mortal." You shook your head in disbelief. "What do I do?"

"Well, first of all, don't outcast me again." Nile said, and you broke into watery laughs.

"No, I won't." You assured her, then turned to Andy, her sad eyes desperately searched yours, tears filling up. "What do we do?"

"We die." You gave her a soft smile. "We get our dream, and we die, together. And when we do," you swivelled over to the rest of your team momentarily. "You make sure to bury us together in the same grave, six feet deep, or I swear I'll haunt your asses until you die. And god knows how long that'll take."

Wet laughter filled the room. Andy took her bottom lip in, nodding in acceptance. "That's the best plan I've heard in six thousand years."

#charlize theron x reader #charlize theron #the old guard #andy #andromache of scythia x reader #andromache the scythian x reader #andromache the scythian #andy x reader

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