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marcsburnerphone · 3 months

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And they were roommates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: the captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: angsty (minimal), john being slightly troubled, alcohol, reader being slightly embarrassing.

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5!! -part 6

—————-

You wake up to the sun softly beaming in your room. Limbs stretching beyond the covers. You look around a little confused as to when you got back in your bedroom. Then it all came together. John, John leaves today.

You get out of the covers leaving your bedroom hoping he’s still there but of course to your disappointment he’s gone. You head to the kitchen knowing at least there will be a note.

Good morning doll, I thought of waking you but decided against it, though I might regret it. The movie was good, you seemed to really be enjoying it also:) Here's the phone number of a friend in case any problems arise. Next time I’m back I hope to see another painting - John

(xxx-xxx-xxxx) - nick

You stare at it trying not to let your emotions get the best of you. So you fold it and put it in the kitchen drawer. Although John was an awfully quiet roommate you could feel the weight of his absence. The cold floor beneath your feet has grown warm for how long you’ve stood there. You make your way towards the front door deciding that an iced coffee and a long drive with music will rid you of this feeling you can’t decipher it feels like want but in a way it’s also need but what is it you want and need? Not even you could answer that question.

Long story short you think it made the feeling intensify.

————-

1 month in

You’ve booked your schedule full leaving not an ounce of time for yourself. From the morning till night you had clients which were good for money but really it was a distraction for your mind. That same feeling felt like it was running into new veins every day seemingly consuming you.

You tried to start a new painting but something was off about the color scheme and it was a waste not only of time but material and energy. You wonder how John is.

————-

2 months in

No problems have arisen since he’s been gone. It's like the house knows you’ll call the expensive plumber instead of John’s friend.

However you have started a painting you are beginning to like. It’s a mix of hues you’ve never used before blues and oranges, a flame. You don’t know where or why the idea came to you but it’s what you wanted so you started it. A single candle is the outline, and the surrounding of it is the orange yellowish aura of a flame. You tried making ratatouille the other day and although it was good you wished it was made out of pepperonis like your childhood mind had imagined. You forgot there was no longer anyone to finish left overs so you ate it for three days straight.

Also you bought a new rug.

————-

3 months in

You’ve begun putting the final laminate on the painting. It’s taken you far longer than it would’ve if you hadn’t accepted 15 new clients. Not that you mind anyways.

You’re also a little ambivalent to the idea of John paying for 6 months of rent when he doesn’t even live here during it.

Besides that life seems stagnant and you’ve begun to lock your bedroom door at night again.

————

4 months in

The painting now hangs a foot away from where the other one in front of John’s door does. It’s a beautiful contrast and really you were overjoyed at the outcome. You also randomly decided it’d be a good idea one night after too much wine to order new furniture for the outside deck. When it arrived you were one in disbelief of all the building pieces and and two excited to have something more to do.

You should've stayed up the night John left.

————

5 months in

Redecorating the deck wasn’t enough change. You needed a makeover physically but couldn’t decide how. Maybe a tattoo? No. New makeup? No. How about a haircut? Fuck it, yes.

So you did just that, you got a few almost unnoticeable highlights and chopped a good amount off. After the fact you were obsessed. Was it impulsive and could it have gone so horribly wrong, yes. But did it? No.

———

6 months in

John’s still not back and it’s all you could think about. What if something happened to him? What if he wasn’t coming back? You worried yourself sick so much so you physically became sick.

You waited week by week for anything, maybe he’s back on base but just hasn’t come back home yet. But something was telling you it was more than that.

———-

7 months in

At this point worrying wasn’t going to make him appear. Your hobbies have now turned into distractions. So tonight you sit in the living room with a glass of wine and watch another rom com. You’re as comfy as can be in this cold brutal weather. It stays below 30 degrees Fahrenheit during this time of year and the snow bites at any unclothed skin.

You fall asleep to the small hum of the heater while on the couch. Thick blanket thrown across you and tv playing as background chatter.

You don’t know when you wake but it’s still dark outside when you hear someone that sounds distressed. Your groggy mind isn’t processing that the sound is coming from inside the house. But when it does you're up in a second looking around as your eyes try to adjust to the darkness.

“Fuck!” You hear from down the hall. John’s room.

You walk quietly towards it as he continues to chant that word. Suddenly it falls silent and you just hear what sounds to be deep breaths. You don’t know what wills you to knock, but you do.

“John, are you okay?” You ask softly from behind the closed door. He doesn’t respond but you know he’s in there from the quiet but quick breathing.

“No.” He says with that familiar deep drawl.

You open the door slowly to see him sitting on the floor near the corner of his bed clearly distressed. You take notice of the mess wondering how you slept through the making of it. There’s glass from somewhere on the floor and clothes strewn but when you look at him your heart breaks. He’s in full uniform, vest on, belt with equipment on, as if he didn’t stop anywhere. Just came straight here. His hair has grown out to an odd length and his beard has grown longer.

“I can’t get this fucking vest off.” He interrupts your thoughts looking at you with a sense of sorrow. You kneel to where he is careful to avoid glass. His eyes don’t glance up to meet yours; they stay fixated on his hands that are covered in dirt.

“May I?” You gesture towards the plastic buckles on the vest. He nods and you start with the two at his shoulders. Then you reach down his chest to undo the two near his belt buckle. You realize it must be connected somewhere in the back when it doesn’t come off. He leans forwards as you look trying to avoid the bloodstains that taint the once green vest and sure enough the tiniest but mightiest buckle is on the center of his lower back. He shrugs it off with a sigh.

“Better?” You ask softly.

“Yeah, Thankyou.” He slowly tilts his head back to lean on the comforter and you don’t move an inch.

“What can I do?” Truthfully you’ve never been in a situation so unbearably awkward but so unwilling to just leave.

“Just sit here with me.” So you do. You scoot right next to him and lean your head on his shoulder. He couldn’t admit it but the nights he slept in cold frost biting weather the thought of returning to your warm presence got him through.

“He almost died.” His voice gives out at the end of that sentence.

“Who?”

“Johnny, it would’ve been my fault. One second later and they would’ve put a bullet through his skull.”

“But he’s okay?” You know John loves his team even though he doesn’t outwardly say it.

“He’s perfectly fine.”

“Worrying about what could’ve been will kill you.”

“Sometimes I feel like that’s what I deserve for some of the things I’ve done.”

“If not you it would be someone else making the world a better place.”

“I know.”

You sit there with him for a while in silence. He can barely believe he made it back alive but right now the battle feels worth it. He hears soft snores not too long later and realizes you’ve fallen back to sleep. His head leans to rest above yours as he closes his eyes. He knows sleep won’t come to him but he’s never had you this close and for now he’ll cherish it.

————-

When you woke up again the sun had risen and a golden glow lit John’s room.

“John.” You whisper trying not to move your head in case he’s sleeping.

“Yeah doll.” He lifts his head to look at you.

“I’m so sorry.” You feel slightly embarrassed and bad that you just fell asleep on him.

“Nothing to be sorry for.” He sighs before standing on his feet with a groan then offering you hand to help you up.

“I’m going to shower.” He says as you dust yourself off.

“After can I give you a haircut?” He laughs a little at your not so subtle realization of his long hair..

“If you’d like.”

“I’d love.” You say before leaving, assuring him you’d be back when he's done.

You pick up your mess from the previous night. Folding your blanket and putting it back in the basket near the couch. Taking your wine glass to the sink and rinsing it out. You go to your room and change into an outfit for the day and do your morning routine. After you grab your shears, clippers and cape. By the time you're done doing all of this you no longer hear the water running meaning John’s done with his shower. You knock on his door lightly.

“Come in.” You walk in to see him sweeping up his mess with the small house broom and can’t help but smile at the sight.

“Come on, let's cut your hair in the bathroom, better lighting and you can see what I’m doing.” You say heading straight there. You sit him on the little bathroom bar stool that’s been in there since your ex moved out. Once he’s sitting the only cape you have is pink so you throw it on him begging yourself to not laugh which you fail causing him to smirk.

“Okay so I’m just gonna clean it up, fade the sides a very little, cut the top with shears and what not.” You let him know.

“You cut your hair?” He replies, staring at you through the mirror.

“Yeah so?” You smile.

“I like it, it looks good.” You feel that feeling only johns been able to provoke.

“Thankyou.” You begin the cut, slowly combing out sections making sure to be precise. He seems far more relaxed than you’d imagined as you just freely cut at the top. After the matter once you're satisfied you shave the sides a little just enough to where it looks cleaner.

“Can I do your beard and mustache?”

“You're the hairstylist, not me?” Is all he says.

So you do, very carefully, mere inches away from his face your hands hold one side of his jaw softly to trim the other side. He watches your expression intently. The way when you’re focused there’s a crease that forms between your eyebrows and your pupils blow a little wide.

“All done.” You say pulling him from his trance. You move his face with your hands really checking to make sure all is well.

“Very handsome.” You compliment before turning around to rinse your shears and put them away.

“Thank You doll.” He says examining it himself in the mirror thoroughly pleased with how well you did even though he knows you don’t cut men’s hair. He doesn’t notice you grab his beard oil from the cabinet till you're smoothing it between your hands and asking him to face you so you can rub it through the coarse brown hair. Ever the nurturer.

It feels like time apart only made you two feel closer somehow. Or maybe it’s because you wanted to be close and those feelings were equally reciprocated.

The rest of that day John had loads of paperwork to file, sign and report. So he did that, he sat in his office for long hours going through the process. The only thing that slightly lightened this burden was your voice humming in the kitchen as you cooked something. You’d stopped by and offered him some which he gladly accepted from your giving hands. Hours later you bid him a goodnight and went to bed and even then he had so much more left.

—————

The next day you catch John in the kitchen and tell him there’s something you must show him.

“So you built it all yourself?” He says as you show him your little project you did outside. There’s a thick coat wrapped around you as you don’t fully step outside to avoid slipping on the icy ground. Him though, he stands on it with no problem in what looks like military issued boots.

“Yes I did.” You say proudly despite his clear disdain.

“I missed you, even your stubbornness.” After the months John’s been through there was no point in hiding the way he was feeling.

“I missed you too.” You smile while clearly avoiding his gaze.

How had he missed this all along?

“Would you like to go out for drinks?”

“What?” You turn around to meet his eyes.

“Can I take you out for drinks?” What being mere inches away from death does to a man.

“Yeah.”

You both silently walk away trying to break the bounds of the tense pull that makes you want to gravitate towards each other. You put on something cute but also warm and slip on some brown doc martens as your choice of shoe. You do light makeup as you give yourself a pep talk.

“Only two drinks, only two drinks.” You have to tell yourself cause after two your too you.

You hear John putting his shoes on by the hallway and take in the sight of him, brown leather jacket and beanie. You’re not sure how he’s going to stay warm in that but something tells you he will.

“Ready?” He asks and you nod nervously.

“Okay, hold on, I have to do this really slow or I’ll fall.” You say stepping slowly out onto the ground below the porch stairs.

“Well come here I’ll help you.” He offers his hand. You grab it softly, swooning at the way it encompasses your own. There’s something inside of him that doesn’t even want you to risk walking on this floor but of course he also doesn’t want to push.

“Okay nice and slow.” You’re not even taking full steps, just small slides. You clutch his hand for dear life and he loves it.

“Good girl.” He says once you reach the door of his truck which he opens for you. He doesn’t let go till you sit inside then only does he slip his hand from your warm one and closes the door.

“Which pub?” You ask as he turns on the heater only for your sake.

“The one downtown near the little Italian grocer.” You know exactly which one he’s talking about. Its dim light atmosphere is cozy but fun but usually full of mainly couples.

“Mkay.” You say looking out the window at the gloomy sky realizing it just might rain.

He glances your way during the small drive, your scent of your floral perfume mixed with his of cardamom and musk is quite perfect.

“You alright?” He asks.

“Yeah, just comfy, you?” He grins at your response.

“Never been better.”

He pulls into one of the street parking spots and despite the weather the streets are full, he gets out to put coins inside the slot for time before heading to your side of the car.

“Wait, I'm scared.” You say realizing that the distance to the bar doesn’t seem to be a survivable one.

“Come on, I'll hold your hand.”

“I’ll fall regardless.”

“Want me to carry you?” He genuinely offers.

“What?” You laugh.

“Doll I’m very serious I will carry you, just get on my back.”

“What if we both fall?”

“I’m not falling, trust me.” He says turning around motions for you to get on his back.

“Okay then.” You hook your legs around his upper waist and his arms reach to tuck themselves firmly beneath your knees.

“Comfortable?” He asks. He’s sure you can hear his heart racing from the proximity you’re in.

“Very.” All your dreams of climbing this man have come true.

You shut the door as he steps onto the sidewalk. You tuck your chin in by his neck for warmth. He smells woodsy with a hint of musk, it makes your head spin.

“How are you not slipping?” You say very suspicious.

“Doll I could run on this floor with these boots on.” He answers looking slightly over his shoulder at you.

“Well don’t.” You say seriously and he laughs as he approaches the bar, opening the door and setting you softly on the floor.

He finds you both a booth in the corner and sits on the side where he can see the entire bar, very John of John.

“What do you drink?” He asks, trying to make conversation. Suddenly the air feels very intimate, almost too intimate for what he considers his old man heart.

“When I’m out, martinis.”

“Espresso?”

“Mhmm.” You’re trying your hardest to hold the eye contact he’s giving you but something about the blue in his eyes and creases on the side of them has you breaking it quicker than it started.

“I’ll be back then.” He says sliding out of the booth feeling slightly accomplished.

You sit there looking at the lively pub, how many romances are at their peak here, how many friends are having the best night of their lives, how you amongst them are finally feeling like you again.

“Here we are.” He says returning with two glasses, his is a classic bourbon with a square ice cube in the glass.

“Thankyou.” You say as he slides it over to you.

“So what’d you do while I was gone, other than be reckless and build furniture.” He asks as you sip from your glass.

“I did lots of hair, painted a bit, found new color schemes for decor and that’s kinda it, I’d ask you the same question but I fear you can’t answer.”

“Your fears are true.”

“That Kate woman, she's very pretty.” Are you a little jealous?

“Yeah she’s also very married.” He says it like he doesn’t know what you're on about.

“And also not into men.” You nearly choke on your drink and swallow hard to get it down.

“Well I was just saying.” Sure you were.

You two have small chatter as you go through drinks. You tried to offer the second round but John said no for you to just stay in your seat. He came back with thirds and you definitely were starting to feel the effects of the previous two, him though not at all.

“So you’re telling me John you as very um good looking as you are haven’t had a girlfriend in how long?”

“Eight years.” He says while being very amused with your light hearted, open attitude.

“That’s just not right.”

“No?”

“No, personally, well never mind.” You’re not drunk enough to say what you were about too.

“What about you, why no boyfriends?”

“I’m very, I would say needy I guess clingy even, I’m a double texter, someone who worries and loves too much and I think that can be overwhelming for a lot of people.” You admit.

“Don’t believe that.” He says, sounding a little annoyed.

“For the right person you could never be overwhelming.” He says looking at you intensely and this time you can’t seem to look away.

Once your third drink is finished it’s raining outside and you’re words away from trouble.

“John?”

“Yeah doll.”

“You make me feel alive again.” You admit, the alcohol has casted a pretty shade of pink on your cheeks as you lean your head on your hand and John doesn’t think he’s ever been more entranced.

“You and me both, here drink some water.” He slides it to you. You’re sweet, too sweet. He feels like if he touches you physically or emotionally he’d be tainting art.

“Has anyone told you you're very climbable?”

“It’s time for us to get going, you're quite the light weight.” He laughs offering you a hand as you slide off the booth.

He leaves a tip on the table before walking with you to the door. He has to bend far more than he normally would for you to secure yourself on his back before he’s walking outside. This time he’s walking faster because of the rain droplets that are falling hard. He seats you in the car and reaches across you to buckle you in before heading to his side.

The drive home is pretty quiet, he drives extra slowly because of the precious cargo he carries. Once he pulls back into the gravelly drive way you unbuckle and open the door as he puts the car in park.

“You don’t want to wait for me.” He asks, a little concerned.

“I got this.” You hop out of the elevated truck immediately slipping and having to grab onto the door. He walks quickly to your side laughing at the expression on your face.

“You sure do.” He says as he grabs your arm

“Oh stop it.” You say accepting the help, sliding your feet on the ice again till you get to the door. Once you get inside you groan into the toasty air.

“Thankyou for tonight John.” You say facing him once you kick your boots off. You hadn’t realized how close you were till you turned around and could feel the heat radiating off of him and smell the bourbon on his breath.

“No, thank you.” He says feeling awfully captivated, hanging onto your every move. You cup his face and stand on your tippy toes, boldly yet slowly placing a kiss on the corner of his lips.

He’s starstruck. Absolutely dazed at the look of mischief in your eyes, something that tells him you know exactly what you’re doing to him.

“Goodnight John.” You say patting his chest and walking down towards your room.

—————

I couldn't wait till tommorrow i'm sorry.

comments and reposts are greatly appreciated:)

@beebeechaos @ttsbaby01 @arminarlertssword @quakeroaksguy @rafaelacallinybbay @bumblebeesfromvenus @glitterypirateduck @midnights-song @spyderdoll @lovelythingsinternal @fruitymoonbeams-blog @kkaaaagt @kit-williams @enfppixie @kythefangirl25 @eviltheleon @here4thespice @dclore22 @raethethey @waves-against-a-cliff @novausstuff @darling006 @vampirekilmerfic @dreams-of-qian-qian @spngingerbread21 @thepumpkinqueen93 @copiasratscheese @youdontknowe

#angst #captain price x female reader #john price #barry sloane #captain john price #john price x reader #task force 141 #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley

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gnar-slabdash · 1 year

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I suddenly woke up stupid early on my day off with multiple weird random aches and pains and a revelation about the Leverage chess metaphors.

They’re all wrong.

Look, I obviously adore the white knight/black king motif, and it works really well for that very specific discussion of Nate’s shift in morality and position at the opening of the series. But the show as well as I and other fans have then tried to take that equation and apply it to other jobs and to the crew as a whole. This is fun and awesome, but I believe you’re going to get it wrong every time if you start from the white knight/black king line.

Because in all other situations, Nate is not the king.

Couple important things about kings in chess: 1. They don’t move much. They can only move one space at a time, and for most of the game they stay in their own little box, well guarded by other pieces. This is because 2. When the king is checkmated (threatened with capture and no possible escape), it’s game over. There is no more hope. This is the sole requirement for losing the game. No matter who else is in play, if the king is down, you lose.

This is NOT how Nate operates. Yeah, he makes the plans, but he doesn’t just hide in the office while everybody else carries them out. He’s almost always right up in there playing the most obnoxious guy you’ve ever met or smashing windows or something. And if Nate gets captured, it’s not game over, in fact, it often isn’t even a PROBLEM. Let’s look at a few times that happens, just for fun: - In The King George Job, Nate’s getting beat up and Eliot slightly panics and is about to run to help, when Sophie says “NOPE, don’t do that, I can fix this without blowing our cover” and saunters in at her leisure. The jig isn’t up and she’s not even particularly concerned about him getting punched. I love it. - In the Maltese Falcon Job, Nate sacrifices himself to save the team. This is a classic thing to do in chess and chess metaphors, but, I cannot stress this enough, you cannot sacrifice your king. That’s just called LOSING. -In The Long Goodbye Job of course the whole con is structured around Nate getting caught. I guess this one kind of makes sense because the whole point is to look like they HAVE completely lost, but then at the end it appears that Nate’s going to secret prison and everyone else is escaping WITH the black book, so they STILL would be losing Nate but winning the job.

So if Nate isn’t the king, who is?

Hardison.

Let’s look at our points about kings again:

1. Doesn’t move as far or as quickly: Yes, Hardison ALSO gets out there and participates in the cons, everybody does. But Hardison does stay in the background more often, because that’s where his power is. He does the behind the scenes tech stuff and the remote stuff, he can wreck your shop without showing up through the power of the internet. He also does the forgeries of identities and objects, which are also done in his own space. At the same time, he has less physical power and less range -- you don’t want him in a fistfight, or a gunfight, and his grifts are notorious for being a little. . . uh. . . interesting. So he has limited physical range and power but at the same time. . . .

2. The game is over if you lose him. That far-reaching behind the scenes power is absolutely vital for 90% of the jobs. He does the massive amounts of research and hacking legwork needed just to START a job, even before you get to actually completing the job. You are pretty much dead in the water without Hardison. But that’s just from a practical standpoint. Losing Hardison is also a crisis from an emotional standpoint. He’s our moral compass and our sweet baby brother and when Hardison gets in trouble there is no “well he’ll be fine for a few minutes” and no “well he kinda had it coming.” No, when Hardison is in trouble everything else grinds to a halt and everyone comes running. (See: The Experimental Job, The Grave Danger Job, The Long Goodbye Job.)

So like, yes Nate is in charge. But the king isn’t in charge on a chessboard, the king is just a piece with a very unique role, which Hardison fills much better than Nate does. So, now that we have our real king, who are our other pieces?

Queen: Parker. This has nothing to do with her dating Hardison. The thing about the queen is she can do a little bit of everything -- she can move in any direction, making her the most dangerous piece on the board. Parker’s whole character arc is about learning all the different roles and how to access the whole playing field. She’s the only one who plans and executes an entire episode-length job by herself (okay, with a little help from her girlfriend). Plus, the other cool thing about a queen is she has a built-in transformation story -- a pawn that crosses the board can become a queen, which Parker mimics by initially being dismissed as “the crazy one” and ultimately becoming the mastermind.

Knight: Sophie. I know, I wanted Eliot to be the horsie too, but this makes more sense. The knight’s deal is that it’s sneaky -- it’s the only piece that can turn corners -- and it can jump over obstacles. Sophie’s whole philosophy of grifting is that she shouldn’t need to know about safes or security systems, she should be able to bypass (jump over) all that by insinuating herself with the mark (being sneaky by playing a character to get behind enemy lines)

Rook: Eliot. This is the straightforward one -- it goes in a straight line. It also literally represents the castle walls. It’s also so, so fucking helpful to have around, I fucking hate losing my rooks. It’s your solid right hand man, basically. Is this a little reductive of Eliot? Absolutely, but I’m jamming five complex characters into five predetermined boxes, it’s not all gonna be nuanced. And I think Mr. Punchy would like being seen as the fortress that everybody depends on, and to let all the nuance go under the radar. That’s where he likes it.

Bishop: Finally, here’s where Nate is hiding. While the rook can only go straight (lol), the bishop can only go diagonally. Nothing can be straightforward for the bishop, he always has to come at things from an angle. Like, you know, constantly looking at all the different angles of a situation and finding the right angle to come at a mark from. Also, the bishops sit right in the middle right next to the king and queen. I don’t know that this is historically accurate, but when my dad taught me to play he told me that was because the bishops were important councilors to the rulers, they were the ones who had important wisdom that would tell them the best plan of attack. So the king here isn’t necessarily the one making the plans -- that’s the bishop. And finally, apparently the bishop is called lots of different things in other languages, but we’re operating in English, which means it makes Nate a priest, and that makes me happy.

#leverage #nate ford #alec hardison #parker leverage #eliot spencer #sophie devereaux #chess #seriously what kind of divine intervention happened in my sleep #i feel like some god beat me up and then threw the manuscript of this post at me before disappearing #is this an odin thing #might be an odin thing

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chaoticbardlady99 · 3 months

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I Wondered if I Could Come Home? (Astarion x Pregnant F! Reader) MDNI 18+ Part 2

CW: Smut, insecurities, pregnancy sex, PIV

Tag-list: @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @starstruck-mj-writings @divineknightmare

Part 1 is on my Masterlist :)

This is unedited because I’m tired 😂💜

Photo belongs to @cheekylittlepupp on Tumblr

“These are all truly terrible options, Darling,” Astarion whispers into your ear, “I feel like putting anyone in this should be considered abuse.”

You try and fail to suppress the laughter- covering your mouth with your hand when another woman shoots you a glare. You should regret dragging Astarion in here, but you don’t. He’s right- this place has absolutely nothing adorable and you hate shopping here. You are very happy he shares the same sentiment.

This was an unplanned stop in the grand scheme of the evening. Astarion had insisted on taking you on a date the moment you woke up this morning. When you went to protest and say, “I look like a beached whale, no”- you were thoroughly kicked by Eowyn.

You picked the name Eowyn together a little over a month after Astarion first arrived. It’s almost month 7 now and although Astarion missed out for a few months- your daughter and him are already peas in a pod.

You disagree with Astarion? Kick. If you pick a book that doesn’t interest him? Kick. You get hormonal, angry, and Astarion sounds even slightly sad? You bet you are gonna be running to the bathroom to throw up. She’s a spiteful fucking kid and you cannot catch a break. You are the one carrying her and yet!

You suppose you can’t blame her though. You don’t want to give him any reason to leave anymore than she does. You know Astarion won’t leave again, but that worry is also silently there.

“Darling,” Astarion whispers, “come look at this atrocity.”

Astarion scrunches up his nose and picks up one of the other baby outfits. He looks at you with a “really?” and shows you a piece of fabric fashioned into a onesie with “Selune Loves Me”. You don’t even bother to suppress your snort of laughter.

“I have a horrible feeling that Shadowheart will be buying that for Eowyn,” you sigh.

“Oh no- not if I can help it!” Astarion puts the onesie back (he even folds it), “our kid is going to be a raging atheist and I will have it no other way!”

“And if she decides to be a cleric or a paladin?”

Astarion grumbles a “well that’s different” under his breath. He opens the door for you and bows dramatically as you walk through it. Astarion’s smile is brighter than the sun when you giggle.

“I’m glad you are willing to support all possible life paths, Star,” you tease.

“I will eventually convince her to change her mind,” he muses, “we’ll begin putting swords and instruments in front of her and hope she turns out better than Volo.”

You huff at him and roll your eyes. He intertwined his fingers with yours and you continued the rest of your date.

***************************

You are laying in your bed- remaining absolutely still. Astarion seems like he is still sleeping?

Whatever sick fuck keeps adding spice into your life, has gifted you an incredibley real sex dream with Astarion. Again.

You told yourself you were going to behave- certainly not because you want to. It’s out of respect for Astarion and his boundaries. You don’t know what he’s been up to or if he would even want to while you look like this.

Oh wonderful- tears.

The hardest part of this whole pregnancy nonsense is that you don’t feel good about yourself or how you look. You didn’t necessarily have the best self esteem to start with, but your body changing in front of you almost every day wasn’t helping. You know your hips have gotten slightly wider and your breasts have gotten bigger. You try to be active as much as possible so you feel some control and you eat as healthy as you possibly can without lacking nutrients, but none of it felt like enough. You feel disgusting.

Your silent tears fall down your cheeks as you suppress your pitiful sniffling. If you close your eyes, you’ll eventually fall asleep. That’s what you usually do and that’s what you did when Astarion was gone. Sleep heals everything.

Maybe your body has finally had enough of pushing all of the discomfort back. All those feelings of being unwanted, unloved, and not like yourself are ripping you apart at the seams as they rush to your eyes.

You begin to move away from Astarion- deciding it would be better for you to sit in your little rocking chair and read for a bit. There is no reason to make yourself upset over something you can’t change. Your pregnancy will be over soon enough anyhow.

“Darling?”

Astarion’s voice pierces the silence and his fingers are clinging to your shirt as if to keep you there.

You clear your throat, “yes my Star?”

“Where are you going?”

Astarion sounds incredibly worried. It’s been hard for him to see you when you are sick or when you are obviously picking yourself apart in the mirror. Astarion is constantly worrying about your vertigo and you walking around without him or Shadowheart to catch you.

You told him that his worry isn’t necessary and that you would let him know if you were feeling dizzy or like you were going to pass out. You don’t want to bring harm to yourself or your child.

“I know you know your body, Darling,” Astarion says with his shoulders slumped and a slight frown on his lips, “I have no right to tell you what you can or cannot do, but please, my Love. I just found you again. I can’t even fathom the idea of-“

Astarion had broken down sobbing, then you began to cry, and then Eowyn was kicking so you caved and promised to let him know if you were leaving the room.

You roll over to look at him and his eyebrows raise in alarm. You hastily run the tears away and smile.

“I was just going to sit on the rocking chair.”

Astarion just squints at you and you avoid his gaze- looking up out the window.

“The moon is very pret-“

“Tav, why were you crying?”

Dammit. It’s the “I’m serious” Astarion voice.

“Oh uh,” you chuckle awkwardly, “I just had an interesting dream and it led to interesting thoughts- then TADA pregnancy hormones.”

Astarion flashes you a teasing smile before ghosting his lips over yours.

“Oh I am very aware of these ‘interesting’ dreams of yours, Darling. I’ve been waiting for you to finally ask me to re-enact a few.”

Your heart stops momentarily and you blink a couple times. There is no way you heard that correctly. You begin to tear up and Astarion’s brows furrow in concern.

“You don’t want that,” you say in a low voice, a stray tear rolls down your cheek, “I look disgusting.”

His lips are on yours in an instance- a whimper leaves your lips as you feel a warm stirring between your legs. It’s almost embarrassing how desperately your body wants him- craves him. Being kissed like this by him again is a blessing.

“I wish you would stop trying to guess what I want when it comes to you,” he sighs against your lips, “and I wish you could see how beautiful you are- all the time.”

“My body has just changed so much- to me anyway,” you whisper, “I worry that I’m not attractive to you anymore.”

Astarion grabs your hand with his and guides you down to the front of his underwear- opening your hand so that you palm against his erection. You blush furiously when he forces your eyes to meet his with his other hand. His pupils are blown wide with lust.

“Does it feel like I’m not attracted to you anymore?”

“No,” you whisper shyly.

“I want you desperately,” he places a chaste kiss on your lips, “As I always have.”

You feel embarrassed by the sigh of relief that leaves your mouth upon his confession. You want to be with him this way so badly it hurts. You hesitantly wrap your leg around his hip and you pull him in for a kiss.

Astarion’s lips are soft against yours. You keep a slow pace- unsure of how far he would be willing to go.

You find out pretty quickly when you feel his hands find your underwear- tearing away the fabric completely. You pout against his lips playfully.

“I liked those.”

“I’ll buy you a thousand more pairs, my Love.”

“But-“

The breath leaves your body when you feel his fingers begin to play with your clit. Astarion roughly presses the pads of his fingers against your clit- the additional friction making you keen in pleasure.

Astarion starts to pull away and your hands find purchase in his hair- pulling him back to you. Your desperation spurs him on and your lips are crashing against each other at a fast pace.

You feel him pull you back by your hair, making you look at him- you open your mouth to protest, but then you feel one of his fingers slide into you. Astarion pushes himself all the way into you with his finger until his palm is teasing your already sensitive clit. He must realize how ready you are for him because he enters a second finger and then a third shortly after.

The feeling of his fingers inside of you are intoxicating and the way he is looking at you is even more so. Your moans are on display for him to see- Astarion’s hand in your hair has yet to loosen as he finger fucks you relentlessly.

“So good, so perfect,” he says, “and I’m the only one who will ever have the pleasure of breeding you.”

Astarion’s words rip something inside of you open- you begin to clench around his fingers hard as your climax sinks into your body. His name falls from your lips like a prayer.

It probably is- if you are being entirely honest to yourself. Astarion looks ethereal under the moonlight that floods the room. His curls are mussed up a bit from sleep, his lips turned upward and slightly parted as he watched you be overtaken with pleasure.

Astarion leaves a chaste kiss on your lips and moves your hair out of your face. He sits up and pulls you onto his lap and traces the veins in your neck down to your collarbones. His hands meet in the middle to unlace your shirt all while making eye contact the entire time.

“Gods,” Astarion whispers as he kisses down your chest, “you are exquisite, my Love.”

You must have forgotten what it was like to be under Astarion’s lustful hands and loving gaze. Your dreams were nowhere like this.

You whine at the skin contact and you feel yourself clench around nothing. The feeling of his cold fingers running along your skin- how they tease and pinch your sensitive nipples. Astarion’s word of praise alone are enough to get you off.

“So needy.”

Astarion takes one of your sensitive nubs into his mouth- sucking and grazing it with his fangs. His other hand begins to trail downward as grinds his erection up into your unclothed, soaking folds.

“Have you missed me, Darling?” Astarion coos, “has no one else been able to make you feel this way since I’ve been gone?”

You know exactly what he is asking.

“Yes,” you say breathlessly, “because my hands are nowhere as skilled as yours.”

Astarion’s laughter fills the air and your body with joy. His hand moves to release his erection from his underwear. You gasp at the sight and your hand immediately goes downwards- you feel him growl against your breast when you swipe your finger through some of his precum.

You look down and his eyes are on yours as you put your finger between your lips, licking it clean.

Astarion moves his attention from your breasts- pulling you by your hair down to his mouth so he can taste himself on you. The other hand lines him up with your entrance before pulling you down by your hips at the same time he thrusts upward.

You see stars as Astarion grazes that perfect spot inside of you. His hands had untangled from your hair a while ago, both of his hands guiding your hips down so that you continue to take his full length.

“Astar- I’m going to- fuck,” you cry out as his fingers find your clit again.

“You are going to what, my Dear? I’m afraid I didn’t catch that,” he says teasingly, his thrusts getting sloppier as you clench harder and harder.

“I- I,” your eyes roll in the back of your head as you pitch forward, putting your face in the crook of his neck. Your moans reverberate through the room- your voice is almost guttural from the intense amount of pleasure you are experiencing.

Astarion’s orgasm followed yours quickly- his moans coming out ragged and incoherent as he fills you to the brim with his seed.

You kiss his cheek, along his cheek bone, and then back until you are in the crook of his neck again.

“You are the most incredible woman I have ever had the privilege to lay eyes on,” Astarion says fondly, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Star,” your blissfully fucked body relaxes against his.

You don’t remember when you began to fall asleep or when Astarion repositioned you so that you were spooning. The only thing you can recall is Astarion kissing your shoulder, neck, and behind your ear while whispering his gratitude and love for you into your skin.

#astarion x female reader #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x you #astarion romance #astarion x tav #bg3 spoilers #bg3 #karlach #pregnancy #Astarion x pregnant reader #astarion x f!tav #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x f! reader #astar

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julicity · 1 year

Photo

SEBEK ZIGVOLT - OVERBLOT -

full size version

Please see the full sized version linked above! Since it’s been compressed pretty badly here...

And here’s a version without the unnecessary lightning background, and a face close-up without the glow effects.

ALRIGHT, so this is one of the biggest pieces I’ve done in a long while. I put a lot of work into this so I hope you all enjoy~

I’ve got a lot to say about this one, so read at your own leisure lol.

I think it’s worth leaving notes on my design choices for this one, so I’ll start with that.

First of all, Sebek's character is based off of lightning/thunder (obviously) and also Maleficent's crocodile minion, the latter which I incorporated more parts of (like the halberd and the pointed coattails like his croc tail). Also his phantom would be based on the croc minion character.

I originally wanted to give him more actual crocodile features, like a tail or scales or something, but it wasn't really working out the way I wanted, so I scrapped it.

Most OB’s have long, ripped clothing so I gave him more of a cloak akin to Maleficent’s, the shape of the collar specifically being the same as hers.

I added some spikes on the coat like crocodiles have down their back and tail.

I really like the leg pieces that Riddle & Leona had for their OB’s, and the weaving pattern also happens to make a zigzag lightning shape, so it fits.

I also like the OB designs that have super drippy blot on their arms.

Some things are just copied from his dorm uniform, like the waistband and belts, and the shoulder armour (not the spools of thread though...).

The left shoulder armour doesn't exist in the normal dorm uniform. OB Sebek has one made of blot because Sebek's biggest insecurity is that he's incomplete and will never be good enough due to being half-blood and he wants to be whole T^T

Lightning-shaped blot markings on his face of course. Mostly I just tried to make something that didn't look ugly...

Lastly, I wanted to make his hair messier, but it would end up covering his beautiful face so I let it remain swept back - 3- (aka I couldn’t make it look nice).

So in terms of why Sebek might OB... he clearly has an intense, unresolved internal hatred for his human blood, due to the environment he grew up in. And the way he copes with these emotions is by taking it out on the people around him. It just seems like with the intensity of these feelings, if he were to keep it internalized, it would completely destroy him from the inside. And he just has NOT had the chance or know-how to learn to accept himself and therefore others. So of course, this is something he needs to work on but he definitely cannot do it alone. I think something traumatic does need to happen for him to realize and learn from his ways honestly. In terms of the canon, this will probably be due to Malleus' overblot or whatever shenanigans will happen in Book 7.... but Sebek himself overblotting would do just as well.

I think this fic does a really good job with building up Sebek's OB and his mindset throughout it all getting worse and worse... --> READ HERE It’s still in progress at the moment of posting but the after-blot plot is really wholesome too for us Sebek fans. EVEN IF you are not one you should still give it a read. (Just for full disclosure, my OB design is not based on the one described in this fic.)

Thank you for reading my rambles. I’ve got more angst coming ;>

#sebek zigvolt #twst sebek #overblot #twst #twisted wonderland #dmunart #*smiles in angst*#i've got a couple related and unrelated ideas so it's just gonna get worse *laughs evilly*#thanks for everyone's support btw... i really appreciate you all

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thisonehere · 6 months

Text

The webs we weave

You are the weaver, once a mere mortal(???) who centuries ago challenged Liu Kang to a weaving competition. The loser had to grant a request from the winner. Spoiler alert: you won. Your request: Immortality and eternal youth and beauty. The usual. Nowadays you are known across the realms for your work... among other things.

Shang Tsung, Kung Lao, Johnny Cage, Bi-Han, Kuai Liang, Kitana, Mileena, & Liu Kang

A/N: Serious intros mixed with flirting and just the right amount of almost-smut. Be sure to send any other ideas you might have.

Shang Tsung

Y/n: Does my skill flatter you, sorcerer?

Shang Tsung: It amuses, maybe I'll let you live after all.

Shang Tsung: I must say, now that I see your work in person. It's quite... mediocre.

Y/n: Mediocre? MEDIOCRE?

Shang Tsung: That Liu Kang lost to you speaks volumes.

Y/n: I can say the same about you losing to him.

Y/n: You're... you're very charming for a villain.

Shang Tsung: Do I make you weak in the knees, Y/n?

Shang Tsung: That silk coat you made me had acidic venom in the fibers!

Y/n: *grins* Oops.

Y/n: The silk sheets have been crafted as you requested.

Shang Tsung: Excellent, now I just need you on them to make it complete.

Kung Lao

Kung Lao: I need a new costume, something that matches my greatness.

Y/n: Of course, I think I have some leftover pieces of scrap from Raiden.

Kung Lao: You know what, I like you.

Y/n: *rolls eyes* Wow, thank you so much. Your validating me makes me feel so special.

Y/n: What would you like me to make you?

Kung Lao: A nice, big, soft cover. We'll need it for our honeymoon.

Kung Lao: Why do you have so many spiders?

Y/n: I like having company as I spin my threads.

Y/n: Keep you and your hat out of my workshop!

Kung Lao: Oh come on, all I did was accidentally cut some of the work that took you years to complete.

Kung Lao: You should come with me to Madam Bo's.

Y/n: NO. My tab with her is big enough.

Johnny Cage

Johnny: If I knew spiders could be so hot, I'd still smash them all day.

Y/n: I'll never forgive you for killing Gunter!

Johnny: I've got this sweet idea for a new look.

Y/n: Of course, but I'll need your measurements... I need you to get naked, Johnny.

Johnny: Just so you know, I'm cool with doing nudity.

Y/n: Johnny, I'm a weaver, not a sculptor.

Johnny: You got to become my costume designer, we'd kill it on the red carpet.

Y/n: That would be a dream, Johnny!

Johnny: Y/n..that's such a beautiful name. It almost makes me want to sing.

Y/n: Please don't, your musical flopped for a reason.

Johnny: I don't think Christina will ever come back.

Y/n: Remember Johnny, I'll be here for you...With open arms, open legs, and an open mouth.

Bi-Han

Y/n: I'll make nothing for you!

Bi-Han: Good, I want you, not your talents.

Bi-Han: You are living proof of Liu Kang's incompetence.

Y/n: Says the man who lost to two farmers.

Bi-Han: I was holding back against Raiden and Kung Lao.

Y/n: Oh, Bi-Han, you don't need to lie to impress me.

Bi-Han: I'll freeze your little insects and leave you defenseless.

Y/n: A. They're Arachnida, B. Pick up a book, and C. Some of us like the cold.

Y/n: Your bed must be so cold.

Bi-Han: Come lay in it with me and find out.

Bi-Han: Let me guess, you think your love can "fix me"?

Y/n: Who said I wanted to fix you?

Kuai Liang

Kuai Liang: Your growing relationship with Bi-Han is concerning.

Y/n: Oh Kuai, don't tell me you're getting jealous.

Y/n: Come to me, Scorpion. I burn for you.

Kuai Liang: You've been spending too much time with Johnny.

Y/n: Perhaps you and I coul-

Kuai Liang: I'm sorry, but I'm spoken for.

Kuai Liang: Harumi loved the tapestry.

Y/n: Only the best for her.

Y/n: Are sure?

Kuai Liang: The feeling I had for you are gone now.

Kuai Liang: What have you been planning?

Y/n: Just a little present for your wedding, specifically for the honeymoon.

Kitana

Kitana: Can I hope to have your loyalty in my ongoing battle with Shao?

Y/n: I guess we both shall see.

Kitana: You beat Lord Liu Kang!?

Y/n: Of course, when it comes to combat he is my superior, but no man can best me in my craft.

Kitana: I must say, the stories about you do not do your talents or your beauty justice.

Y/n: What exactly do those stories say?

Kitana: Have you ever considered silk worms rather than spiders?

Y/n: *blech* Never, they're gross, slow, and squishy, and worse, they're all gossips.

Y/n: I already have the train ready, just needs some more embroidery.

Titan Kitana: Train? Are you making me a wedding dress?

Y/n: You and Liu Kang are so cute together.

Titan Kitana: I thank you for being so approving, but our relationship is really none of your business.

Mileena

Y/n: Why do you stare, Empress?

Mileena: I don't know, something about all those bugs around you seems...familiar...

Mileena: Your ascension to the plain of the immortals is most admirable.

Y/n: Perhaps there are some things I may be able to teach you Empress.

Mileena: Are you making wedding attire for Titan Kitana and Lord Liu Kang?

Y/n: Of course, but don't be jealous, I already have something special for you and Tanya.

Mileena: Perhaps you may stay a bit longer, teach me some of your trade.

Y/n: Of course, Empress.

Mileena: *Bloodlusted* I will rip your tongue out from through your cheek!

Y/n: Ooohhhh, cheeky.

Mileena: When I am done with you I will burn all your work to ashes for what you did!

Y/n: No, please! Mercy, MERCY!!!

Liu Kang

Y/n: You knew I'd win?

Liu Kang: I can recognize talent when I see it.

Y/n: Why did you accept my challenge even though you knew you'd lose?

Liu Kang: I was hoping for a chance to be near you.

Y/n: Who is this D'vorrah? Geras said I reminded him of her.

Liu Kang: Nothing should concern you.

Liu Kang: Please, I ask you, keep your distance from raiden.

Y/n: Why? Worried that I'll tempt your little champion?

Liu Kang: You made me a wedding dress?

Y/n: Of course, I see you as much more of a dress-wearing type of man rather than a boring old tuxedo.

Liu Kang: Be careful, Y/n, your hubris can lead to your downfall.

Y/n: What is wrong with showing a little pride in my work?

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joshsjipple · 1 month

Text

Better Than Words

DANNY WAGNGER X FEMALE READER

A/N: Long overdue for some Danny love. I’ve been waiting for the right idea to come to mind to write about him, so I hope this does some justice.

Word Count: 3.3k

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. graphic sexual content, unprotected sex (wrap before u tap), praise kink, degradation, humiliation kink, slapping kink, semi public sex, oral sex (m rec), slight fingering, breeding kink, slight choking kink, cum play, dom (m) sub (f), p in v, rough sex. I think that’s it!

»--•--«

You can’t imagine a better way to spend your day off. Perched on the couch with your favorite book, you sprawl your legs out across the couch. You’ve been looking forward to this moment since Monday, daydreaming about this incredible book your boyfriend–Danny–had bought you for your birthday a few weeks prior. You nurse on a glass of red wine here and there but never let it sway your attention too far from the book, just sipping enough to savor the taste.

You read through the whole afternoon, only stopping to go to the bathroom and make lunch. You have your ankles crossed and your nose in the book when you hear the keys jiggle in the lock. Within seconds, the door opens, briefly stealing your attention.

Danny gives you a warm smile that is quickly replaced by an apologetic frown once he notices he’s interrupted your reading. You grin at him as he maneuvers through the kitchen, emptying his pockets onto the kitchen island like he does every day.

“Hey, you. You’re home early,” you say, returning to your book again.

“Yeah, I texted you an hour ago. Josh and Jake got into a small fight so we called it a day early,” he explains. You hear him rustling through the fridge, pulling out a canned beverage. He cracks it open and you listen to him gulp a few swallows down.

“Daniel,” you whine, eyes fixated on him once more.

He sets his can down and raises his hands in defense. “Sorry, baby. I’ll get out of your hair,”

You watch him strut past you and down the hallway. He disappears into the bedroom first, exiting it with a towel. Then, as promised, he vanishes into the bathroom and leaves you alone. You take another sip of your wine and soak in the sound of water running faintly in the background. It adds to your vision and you cuddle back into your seat.

Thirty minutes later, the water shuts off. Knowing he never covers up after he showers, you tilt your head to the left to get a glimpse of him. He sways from side to side, radiating confidence and strawberry scented shampoo. He sees you out of his peripheral vision and yells, “How’s your book, babe?”

“Great,” you chuckle, watching him leave your line of vision as you bring your wine back to your lips.

For some reason, your mind won’t focus on the book anymore. You’re almost halfway through, and currently in a very chaotic battle between the main character and the enemy, but all you can think about is Danny’s bare ass that’s pacing around your room right now.

After dressing himself, he quietly roams the kitchen once more. He tugs a few grapes into his mouth, barely making any noise. You want to watch him. You wonder what his hair looks like, what shirt he’s wearing, if he’s wearing sweatpants or shorts. Biting your lip, you take a peak.

You stare for a second too long and his eyes flick to yours, victory glossing over them. “See something you like?” he winks.

“Yeah, actually. Toss me a few grapes, will you?” you smirk. He only rolls his eyes and makes his way over to you. You grab a few pieces of fruit from his large bowl, eyes dancing over his tan face. “Just sit down, yeah? We can share.”

“Really?”

“Mhm,” you nod, tucking your legs to your chest and patting the seat beside you. “Just keep quiet,”

“Whatever you want,” he falls back against the cushion.

Danny scoots closer to you, grabbing both of your legs and tossing them over his lap. He pats them a few times before setting the bowl on them. He grabs the remote and when you give him a nod, he turns to a channel.

The two of you sit in silence, although he seems to actually be into the movie vs. you having no interest in your book anymore. You scan over his side profile, admiring his long dark eyelashes and his beautifully sculpted nose. His lips are wet from the juice of the grapes and you imagine what they would taste like right now if you sucked one into your mouth.

You’re suddenly aware of his hands on your thighs, stroking small circles into your flesh. You’re wearing your comfiest set of PJs, which also happen to be the skimpiest. The short’s material barely covers your ass when you walk and right now, it’s riding up your thighs, giving Danny more area to work with. His fingers dig deeper into your skin and you can’t help but let out a small whine in pleasure. Danny’s eyes stay focused on the TV. Defeated, you set your book down on the table beside you.

“What are you doing? I thought you wanted to read?” he asks, his tone mocking.

“I’m taking a break,” you roll your eyes, grabbing another grape.

“Fine, but don’t brother me,” he quips, throwing your words from earlier back at your face.

You groan and scoot closer to him, chaining your arms together. “I’m sorry, love.” you kiss his bicep, letting your lips linger longer than necessary. “Let me make it up to you?”

His breathing hitches as you tug at the skin of his neck, yet his eyes never leave the screen. You lick the spot under his ear and his eyes flutter shut briefly. You remove the bowl from his lap, replacing it with your soaked core. Straddling him now, you throw your arms around his neck. He sighs and gives you a look that makes you throb.

“Whatcha doin up there?” he asks, planting his hands on your waist.

“You, hopefully.” you smirk, pulling him into a kiss.

His hands drift from your waist to your ass as you slip your tongue into his mouth. He tastes like summer and grapes, making you drag your tongue farther into his mouth. He moans into you, grabbing your ass cheeks with both of his large hands. He pushes the material up, playing with the flesh like putty in his hands. Your hands tangle in his dark locks, tugging and gripping on it just how he likes. His hands drag your body into his waist and you lose all your dignity as you feel him grow against your center.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he whimpers, grinding you back into his erection.

You smile as you trail kisses along his neck, nipping at the flesh, sucking the skin into your mouth. He pulls the fabric of your shorts farther up, giving him more area to work with. Shivers shoot down your spine as his finger drags over your clothed entrance.

“Oh, god…” You whine pathetically as if you haven’t gotten laid for months when in reality, it was yesterday.

“You’re so wet, honey. What were you reading over there?” he sneers, kissing your neck.

“I wasn’t reading,” you cry, jaw falling slack.

His hand crashes against your ass, making you jump and grind farther into him. The sting makes you moan, another wave of vibrations coursing through your body.

“So we’re lying now, hm? You were so mean to me earlier because you wanted to read and when I let you, you stopped. Why is that?” He continues sucking on your skin. With his hot mouth on your skin, you’re unable to form a thought quick enough to satisfy him. With another crack of his hand, you yelp and throw your head into the corner of his neck. “Not gonna talk now?”

“Again,” you whine. You should feel pathetic for asking him to slap you again, but you’re so turned on right now you don’t care.

Crack!

“Yeah? You like that?” he whispers into your ear, making goosebumps line your skin. His hands return to your slit, gathering your wetness on his fingers. He pulls them out and uses his other hand to make you sit up. Bringing his hand between both of your faces, your eyes gaze at the soaked digits. Your slick shimmers in the summer light, making you bite your lip. “You see how wet you are, honey?”

You nod, opening your mouth and he slips the two fingers into your mouth. You suck on them, eyes glued to his. He groans as you swirl your tongue across the tips of them, licking up every drop of your own arousal while you drip onto his lap.

“Wanna suck something else?” he asks, and when you nod, he smirks. “Fuck, yeah. Right here. On your knees.”

You obey him, sliding off his lap and sinking to your knees. You welcome the shiver that the hardwood floor below brings. Danny stands and shuffles to the large window covered by white blinds the two of you had picked out when you first moved in. He pulls the string, allowing them to fall open. The sun rays shoot into the living room, blinding you for a second.

“Danny–” you start but he quickly interrupts you.

“Nope. You wanted to be a brat so now you can let everyone see you get treated like one. And you’re gonna take it all, right? No complaints?”

You nod your head, hands tugging at his sweatpants. You tug them down, his hard cock surprising you. “No underwear?” you ask. “It’s almost like this was your plan all along,”

He smirks before grabbing a fistful of hair. “Shut up and suck it.” he demands, voice dripping with sex.

Removing his hands, he lets you take the lead. You lean in and kiss the tip before dragging your tongue around the slit to gather his arousal. Then, you wrap your lips around him, moaning loudly. The vibrations make him twitch and screw his eyes shut. Placing either hands on his thighs, you take him down your throat. You focus on your breathing as he reaches the hilt, a loud whimper rewarding you for your work.

“Oh, god. That’s my good girl,” he praises, massaging your scalp.

Your throat burns as you start to bob on him, swallowing every inch you’re physically able to. Danny has never been a head pusher, which you admire greatly because it would probably destroy your throat entirely. He lets you set your own pace, allowing you to take as much time as needed. He has no worries on finishing, the two of you becoming so familiar with each other’s bodies that it’s never an issue.

You gag around his length, tears welling at the corner of your eyes. You watch Danny toss his head back and his mouth make an ‘o’ shape. You swirl your tongue over him, tracing his veins as he holds your hair into a ponytail.

“You look so good with my cock in your mouth, honey. I wonder if the neighbors think so too,” he pants, making you squeeze your thighs together. “Yeah? You like that idea, don’t you? Do you like the thought of people seeing you gagging on my dick?”

You can’t help the wail that leaves your chest. You repeatedly shove him down your throat, making him twitch and wither in your mouth. He hisses and you watch his jaw clench, tugging you away from his hard cock. His hands grip under your arms and he lifts you to your feet.

“Can’t wait any longer. Gonna fuck this pretty pussy,” he grabs the back of your neck and turns you towards the window. “Gonna bend over and stick your head out? Wave to all the neighbors as you soak my cock?” You moan in reply. “Yeah, right. You’re mine. They don’t get a show.”

He removes his hand from your neck and places it on your lower abdomen instead. He guides you backwards until your back is flat against the wall. He rids your shorts and panties quickly, tossing them behind his head with no care for where they end up. His fingertips immediately drag through your folds, causing you to latch onto his upper arms.

“So wet and pretty,” he coos in your ear, slipping his middle finger inside of you.

“Danny. Please fuck me,”

His finger pumps into you steadily for a few more seconds before he pulls away. “Fine. Put your arms around my neck and your legs around my waist. Remember you asked for it,”

You yelp as he rips his own shirt off, his hands then moving to grip the back of your thighs. They dig into your skin, hard enough to leave a mark. You cry as he lifts you off the ground. As told, you wrap your legs around his waist and arms around his neck. You’re already clawing at his warm skin, making him shiver as he slides the tip of himself through your folds. With one hand under your ass to keep you in place, he thrusts into you.

You’re shoved back into the wall with a thud, your head smacking the surface. You wince, but Danny keeps going. He barely gives you any time to adjust which is just how you like it. Something about the way you can feel him stretching you just drives you absolutely insane.

“You’re. So. Tight. Princess.” he says, each word escaping with the rhythm of his thrusts.

Your nails dig into the skin of his back, having no regard for the scratches you’re leaving. He whines at the feeling. Moving a hand to your breast, he squeezes and tugs on your hardened nipple. He lowers his head just enough to pull the flesh into his mouth, teasing it with the tip of his tongue. His tongue swirls and sucks on it, biting with his teeth until you squeeze around his shaft that’s buried deep inside you.

You’re close, and the desire to finish causes you to remove a hand from Danny’s back to rub circles into your clit. You work at a fast pace into the swollen bead until a hand catches it, bringing the motion to a halt. You’re wailing, hips bucking in to meet Danny’s thrusts.

“Move your hand,” he growls, lacing your fingers together and pressing it above your head.

“Daniel,” you warn.

“Your pussy is heaven, darling. I’ve never seen anything as pretty,” he cries, sucking on your neck. “She’s squeezing me so tight. Are you gonna come? Gonna make a mess on my cock and show me how much you love me?”

His words combined with his violent thrusts send you over the edge. Your back arches away from the wall, legs loosening around Danny’s waist as your mind goes blank. Not wanting you to fall, Danny lets your hand go and places both hands on your thighs to support you. Even after you’ve come down from your high, his pace doesn’t slow.

“Oh my god…” you say.

“I know. Just take it, yeah? Be my good slut and fucking take it. Take my cock that’s all soaked from your cunt. Give me another one,”

Hair clings to your forehead, glued in place from the sweat beads drizzling down your face. Your breasts bounce with every assault of Danny’s hips. The sensitive skin rubs against his toned chest, adding to your overstimulation. Your clit feels as if it might explode as he places his thumb on the bundle of nerves. You’re scrambling away from the feeling but his grip only tightens.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? You wanted to play dirty, so we’re playing dirty. Now shut up and let me cum,”

You smirk at his words, pulling away from the crook of his neck you were hiding in. “You couldn’t cum if I didn’t make noise,”

“Is that a bet?”

Shit. “Yep,”

“Alright,” he shrugs, and moves away from the wall, you in his arms. Tossing you to the couch, he buries your face in the corner. “Don’t make a sound.”

You struggle to breath when he pushes himself back into you, hands gripping your waist as you meet his thrusts. A growl of pleasure rips through Danny’s chest, the sound making you bite back a moan of your own. He removes a hand from your waist and you wonder what he’s doing. You find out seconds later when a sharp painful sting falls across your ass. You bite into the cushion, trying not to make a sound. He does it again before squeezing the red area with his hands.

“You like that,” he moans, hands digging into the skin of your ass. “My good good girl likes it rough, huh? I’m fucking soaked, god. You’re so hot. ‘M gonna cum. Right in this pretty pussy. Gonna give it to you, yeah? Fill you up with my cum like you’re nothing but a pretty fuck-toy.”

Tears stream down your face as you try not to speak. When his hand snakes around your waist and begins rubbing your clit again, you can’t hold back. You squeal at the feeling of him attacking your overly-sensitive clit. He laughs from above you in victory, biting into the skin on your shoulder. His hips buck into you, your body doing it’s best to take all of it.

“Cum for me,” he begs. “Please, I need it so bad. One more. Go on, soak it.”

As if your body is wired to his mind, you climax again. Danny’s praising you again but it all sounds like mumbles to you from your position. Seconds after you finish, he does too. You feel him release himself into you, his warm ropes of cum decorating your insides like frosting on a cake. The warmness spreads through your body as you come down again. Danny uses you until he’s finished, deep and rough moans of pleasure ripping through his chest. Eventually, his movements falter to a stop.

He slips out of you, a string of cum connecting the two of you. He whines at the view before tearing it down with his fingers. You lay still until his hands flip you onto your back. You spread your legs as you feel him begin to drip out of you. He looks like a Greek god perched above you, the light accentuating his features. The muscles on his arms are outlined, along with his stomach muscles. His eyes are glued to your cunt that is overflowing with his cum.

He notices you watching him and bites his lip. “Look at this,” he leans over you and pulls your neck so you’re craned to look at yourself. “Fucking perfect,”

“Danny,” you heave.

“Yeah? You like how my cum looks running down your legs, sweet thing?” he asks, thumb tracing across your cheek.

“Fuck, I love it.” you admit.

“I’m gonna get you pregnant one of these days,” he runs his fingers through his hair before falling onto your chest.

“Danny, I’m on birth control,” you can’t help but giggle.

“We need to get you off it asap,” he says.

“What? You want a baby?” you’re stunned.

“I want everything with you. Besides, you’d be so hot pregnant. And your boobs would be massive,” he kisses your stomach.

You swat at his head with a chuckle. “You’re such a boy,”

“I’m just saying! That does happen, you know. They get all round and full with milk,” he stares up at you, tongue dragging over your nipple.

“Danny,” you whine. “Save this energy for later. I’m exhausted,”

“Yeah me too,” he agrees. “How about a bath? You can tell me about that book you’re reading,”

“Sounds good. But I don’t remember anything after you got out of the shower,” you admit.

“What can I say?” he shrugs. “Who would want to read when I’m here?”

You smile. “Now that I can agree with.”

»--•--«

#greta van fleet #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka #josh kiszka #josh kiszka smut #sam kiszka #greta van fleet smut #josh gvf #josh kiszka fic #sam kiszka gvf #danny gvf #danny wagner #danny wagner smut

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rendy-a · 11 months

Note

Hi! I saw that your requests were, so don't mind me dropping in^^

I constantly see Malleus/or Sebek x Reader fics where they give reader a rock or smt for the dating ritual and reader is clueless- ye non of that.

Reader is the definition of Goblin core or just Goblin in general, the moment Malleus/or Sebek presents the rock, they run to Rumshackle to get their pretty rock and later reader is like "have a rock of love... My love for you"

Can I request something similar as a scenerio for Malleus and Sebek? (If you don't feel like both, then plz do Malleus)

Thanks!

Thanks for dropping by! It does feel like a fae would be one to gift something strange and mundane as an important gift. Here is your request of getting an unusually random item from the fae boys as a romantic gesture. Hope you like it!

It wasn’t every day that one got courted by a fae prince. You’d become somewhat of a legend among the first-years for taming the fearsome dragon prince. When your dear Malleus happened to approach you while in a group, all the other students would freeze up, but you’d just smile at your sweetheart and wait to hear what he wanted. It was usually to present you with some sort of gift. You’d become used to receiving gifts, sometimes of immense value, as an everyday occurrence. You’d just smile at the jewels or such and wish your boyfriend a happy day before going back to your business.

Your friends, though, they were always eager to check out what you’d been gifted and bemoan their own luck at not receiving such riches. “Ah,” sighs Ace, “my last birthday, I got socks. Look at what you get for it just being Tuesday!” Ace lifts the bejeweled…whatever…and moans again. Sometimes, no one was quite sure what the gifts were, but each gem-encrusted piece gave off an air of sophistication. You consoled Ace good-naturedly while also mentally planning a visit to see Lilia later and ask for more information on…whatever this was.

Lilia was always more than happy to invite you in and hear more about his ward’s courting progress. “Ah, a gilded corset cover. How nice.” Lilia smiles at you knowingly. “I’m sure you were happy to add this to your ballroom staples for your future in Briar Valley.” You pictured it; men and women dressed in elaborate clothes, decorated with such things as bejeweled corsets. Well, you tried to picture it before shaking your head and leaving that in the category of ‘things you’d figure out later!’ You returned the short fae’s smile, “Ah yes. I’ll just store that away with my other ballroom garments and accessories.” You flash him a tight smile and he chuckles at you before handing you a book. “Thought you might be interested in this. Many old fae customs and traditions in there. For, oh I don’t know, someone looking to learn more, so they don’t have to go chatting up their grandpa every time they get a private gift.”

You’d smiled at him gratefully and accepted the book. You were glad to read up on the culture of Briar Valley and found it quite fascinating. There were even a few notes specifically on dragon fae. In retrospect, you had recognized a few of the things mentioned in Malleus’s behavior already. It felt good to be in the know for once instead of always running to Lilia for help.

You were especially glad to have that knowledge before receiving the gift you’d gotten today. You were hanging out with your friends in the Basketball Club, listening to Ace brag about things he’d actually done (scored 2 baskets from the 3-point line) and things he’d only imagined (breaking past Jamil). That was when you noticed a sort of hush had fallen across the gym. You closed your eyes and felt a sort of sensation, like electricity or a storm brewing, that you knew meant your sweetheart was nearby. So, it was no surprise to you when you opened your eyes and turned to find Malleus at your side.

You smiled up at him warmly and greeted him. He returned your smile and greeting with a soft fondness that was characteristic of your relationship. “Dearest Treasure, I have today a boon for you.” Saying this, he pulls from the air a branch and holds it out to you. You gaze at the leafless twig and back up to his nervous expression. He waits patiently but cautiously for your response. A great grin spreads over your face and you accept the branch. “Oh Malleus,” you say, barely containing a tremor in your voice, “this, this is wonderful. Thank you, it was just what I was dreaming of.” You beam up at him and show your branch to your friends.

“It’s just a stick,” you hear Ace whisper to Floyd. Malleus’s mouth tightens a small bit and Jamil notices. He immediately goes into full blown retainer panic mode. “A stick of great quality! Your Highness, I have never seen a stick of such fantastic proportion before. Surely it is the greatest stick of all.” Malleus preens at the praise. Floyd tilts his head and only comments, “I don’t see it. Land-dwellers sure are strange.” You give your confused friends a small laugh before grabbing Malleus by the hand and leading him from the gym.

You lean your head gently on his arm as you walk, smiling happily at your branch. “It is a particularly nice branch, isn’t it?” you ask with a smile. Malleus gives a contented hum from deep in his chest, “So what do you intend to do with it?” he asks carefully. You look up at him surprised, “Why put is around my bed of course. What else would I do with it?” He laughs merrily, pleased by your response. Yes, you know what this is. The first branch of many that you will use to construct a dragon’s nest. You can’t believe you’ve just received a proposal from a dragon. You pull your treasured branch close to your heart and smile on.

It was a rock. A round sort (but not perfectly round), with a crack running along one side exposing some glints of the interior. It was most certainly a rock. “It’s a rock,” Grim offers, “If you can’t eat it, what good is it?” You look over at your companion disapprovingly, “Plenty good. Plus, you eat rocks all the time, so I don’t think you should be one to judge.” He gives you a disdainful look, “Only the good smelling ones.” Then he wanders off, leaving you alone in your Ramshackle room with the rock.

You smile and wander around the room, trying your special rock in many different places. You finally settle on the mantle in front of the mirror, where you’d see it every day when you got ready. It really was a nice rock. You turned it around to look at it closer. The crack along the seam appeared as a flaw at first, until you noticed how its jagged shape resembled that of a lightning bolt. Through the little lightning bolt gap, a few green sparkles of the interior layers were visible, peridot, you thought. It was perfect.

You remembered a conversation you’d had with Sebek long ago on books he’d read. You’d asked him for some of the stories from his childhood and he’d told you a tale he read as a small child about a brave bird that walked to the ocean to find a pebble for its beloved. It sounded like something you remembered from your own world, and you told him so. He smiled and said that this was an old traditional tale in Briar Valley. Now, you understood what sort of tradition it had created. Smiling at your pebble, you set yourself to your own task.

“Here’s a pretty rock,” Deuce offers it to you. You examine it carefully before tossing it back on the ground, “No, that’s nice but it’s not the right rock.” Ace walks over to a pile and picks up another, “How about this one?” You look at him and roll your eyes, “Ace that’s just a regular rock.” He tosses the rock down in frustration, “That’s a regular rock, this is a regular rock, your super special rock is just a regular rock; Prefect, they are all just rocks!” You frown but continue to scan the ground below you. “You don’t have to keep coming along if you don’t want to.” You knew that to most people, it would seem like a pointless endeavor. Finally, Ace heaves a large and exasperated sigh. “No, I’m coming. I just don’t get it is all. How about this one. If you turn it just right, it almost looks like a heart.” You smile and obligingly look at the rock, already knowing it wasn’t YOUR rock. “It’s nice. Why don’t you keep this one?”

He moves to toss it but then appears to reconsider and pockets the unusual-shaped rock; it was a neat rock. You don’t say anything but smile to yourself. That was Ace’s rock; sort of average looking but when you twisted it right, it was a solid heart. You didn’t need Ace’s rock though; you needed your rock. Just like Sebek had looked until he found one that perfectly represented himself, you’d look until you found one that fit you just right. That was the point of it all. To journey as long and far as the penguin of legend and find a representation of yourself to offer to your partner.

You didn’t know how long it had taken Sebek to find that perfect rock, but you knew he’d have never settled for less than the best. He’d have climbed a mountain and traveled great distance; anything it took. So…you’d just have to do that as well. One day, you smile to yourself, you’d be able to return the gesture and offer back a rock, and with it, your entire self to him. Then you’d place the rocks on a mantle together, maybe in a little cabin of your own in Briar Valley and live happily ever after.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #malleus draconia x reader #malleus x reader #malleus draconia #sebek x reader #sebek zigvolt #sebek zigvolt x reader

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seireiteihellbutterfly · 1 month

Text

Second Chance Sorcerer

Chapter 1

Summary: After surviving Mahito's Idle Transfiguration in the Shibuya Incident, Nanami finds himself in an unknown realm between life and death. Will he escape?

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Fem! reader

A/N: I can't believe I actually got around to writing this! *sobs*. I hope everyone does take the time to read it, and enjoys what I've created here. This will be a multi-chapter fic, quite different from the one-shots I've posted before. It was originally made with an OC, which can be read on my AO3 account, but all changes have been made to y/n here.

Thank you @actuallysaiyan for making the lovely title banner and for listening to me rant and giving me all the encouragement to finish this chapter. Everyone needs a cheerleader like you. 💜

“You’ve got it from here…Itadori kun.”

Those were the last words Nanami remembers saying before Mahito’s Idle Transfiguration fragmented his soul into smithereens. All he felt was pain, gut-wrenching pain as his soul collapsed and rearranged itself, piece after piece trying various combinations of alignment, trying to come back into some semblance of a whole, like chromosomes after being hit with a lethal dose of radiation.

His eyes squeeze shut, senses overloading as he prepares to meet whatever awaits him on the other side. Would it be a lovely afterlife like he’d hoped? Filled with long days on the beach, reading the backlog of books he’d been holding off on? Laying in the sun, no work, no obligations, just doing whatever he wanted to his heart’s content? He felt warmth against his chest, a bright light emanating from it, and for a split second, it felt like someone was calling out to him, a very familiar voice…

And all of a sudden it stops. With a thump, he crumples on something solid, his side colliding with the surface. Was this it? Was he in the afterlife? Nanami hesitantly opens his eyes and takes in his surroundings.

At first, it appears like he’s landed on a sidewalk that wound deeply into a very gloomy and derelict-looking city. He could make out buildings, traffic lights, and little shops tucked away in between these larger structures, all of them looking abandoned or in various states of disuse. Not exactly what he’d hoped for. Was this actually the Great Beyond?

Nanami pushes himself to his feet, relieved when he realizes he’s not in pain anymore. Had Mahito sent him to a separate contained domain? He squints, trying to find his bearings. There was no sunlight wherever he was, but the street lamps were lit along the length of the sidewalk, casting shadows along the way. He cautiously looks around. The place looks strangely familiar…

He grasps his weapon, the blade having still been in his hand when Mahito touched him, and advances down the road. As he walks, he realizes with a jolt that wherever he is appears to be a phantom of his neighborhood. He recognized this road now, as he had frequented it so often. Up ahead was the grocery store he would go to every Saturday. And right opposite it, a little cafe he would sometimes wander into for their lovely croissants and artisan coffee. The more he walked, the more he started piecing together a map of this area, astonished at what he was seeing. This certainly couldn’t be a domain expansion. There was far too much detail resembling the real world and, although the place gave a foreboding aura, seemed to be unoccupied except for himself.

He stops in the middle of the sidewalk, lowers his weapon, and tries to think. Logic was telling him Mahito had sent him somewhere, perhaps a sealed space, rather than kill him outright. But if that was the case, why was he healed? His entire left side which had been covered with fatal burns was gone, the skin healed over like new, his eye regenerated, hair grown back. His clothes and shoes had somehow been restored to their original condition, his glasses back to their position on his face.

Things weren’t adding up. He continued to walk, then came upon a library he remembered passing by in the real world but had never really paid attention to before. Deciding this was as good a spot as any to glean information about his whereabouts, he enters, squinting through the darkness. Lines and lines of shelves stood neatly arranged in the building. Nanami walks between the rows, pausing in between sections for a brief moment before continuing his perusing.

He rounds the corner, then quickly presses his back against a bookshelf as he senses an unusual energy signature fading away from him. So he wasn’t alone, and the thought wasn’t comforting. The energy didn’t match a human or a sorcerer, so he had to assume it was a special-grade curse. After his interactions with Jogo and Mahito, he didn’t know what to expect in terms of its abilities. He was tempted to escape but knew he had nowhere to go. If he was trapped in this domain what hope was there to escape this odd being he was sensing?

Raising the clothed blade with its polka dot pattern, he follows the energy steadily, not daring to breathe too loudly as he advances. It moves stealthily and silently, as though trying to elude him. This makes him immediately wary, sensing he could be getting lured into a trap. He follows at a distance, then stops as he comes to a reading section, the area cleared out and decorated with little chairs, poufs, and tables. Struggling to see in the dim light, he moves into the open, instincts screaming that he’s making a mistake. He pauses, trying to sense the energy again.

“It’s rude to chase one with a weapon you know.” A voice says from directly behind him. Nanami startles and spins around to face his pursuant, arms immediately coming before him to block an impending attack. Upon seeing the sight before him, his gaze fills with both fear and wonder, the being in front of him a vision of amazement.

All he sees at first are a pair of piercing silver eyes that seem to probe the very depths of his soul. There’s a quiet insightfulness to them like he was looking into the eyes of an old friend, yet an unsettling intensity that made him feel apprehensive. The being appeared to lack a shape, but as Nanami took another step back, the light from the street lamps showed it to be made of wisps of black shadowy mist, neither fluid nor gas, swirling endlessly around it.

Something within him tells him he shouldn’t fear this creature, yet all instincts were telling him to charge the attack before it got to him first. They stood, staring at each other through the dimness, before Nanami gathered his courage and asked, “What are you? A curse?”

The being huffs, as if it was an impertinent question. “What am I…Who am I…The question has been asked for centuries. Yet, even I do not have an appropriate answer…But I am most definitely not a curse.”

It glides silently over the floor, and Nanami instinctively raises his weapon. The being appears to look amused, based on the way those intense silver eyes glowed. “Put away your blade, Nanami Kento. The things I could have done to you once you entered my realm can’t be defended against by you, or even a special-grade sorcerer for that matter. I doubt even Ryomen Sukuna would stand a chance against me.” The smoky form billows, ebbing and flowing as it circles him.

Not entirely reassured, Nanami puts his weapon back in the holder of his suspenders. There’s an odd feeling of reverence despite the eerie nature of the being.

“I am what they call The Mediator, The One Before Death, or The Spectator.” It answers his question.

“And where am I?” Nanami asks the shadow.

“You are in between worlds, Nanami Kento.”

“In between worlds?” The blonde man repeated skeptically. Did such a thing exist? He had never given death much thought (beyond the dying part), and always assumed it was like being asleep one moment and waking up in paradise the next. To be in between worlds…had Mahito somehow just locked him away in another dimension that was a bleak version of his neighborhood?

“So…am I…alive? But in another dimension?”

The Mediator looked at him thoughtfully, as though wondering how best to explain to him. “You are alive for now. But you definitely died, otherwise you wouldn’t have ended up here in my realm.”

“I died, and came back to life?” The sorcerer frowned at the obscureness with which this said. “That makes no sense. People don’t just arbitrarily resurrect from the dead. I was severely weakened. My soul was unprotected. Mahito’s attack should have killed me.”

“It did. However, something at that moment reversed the attack and restored the various fragments your soul had shattered into.”

Disbelievingly, Nanami started running his hands over his torso as though trying to find evidence that he had died. It was just…fantastical…impossible…He had survived Mahito’s attack? What divine intervention could have possibly saved him from something so deadly? As his fingers near his wrist, they brush over a small chain, hidden under the cuff of his shirt. He quickly undoes the button and looks incredulously at the small charm, an Aum symbol, dangling from the chain.

“Y/n…” he murmurs her name softly. His apprentice. He now remembers her fastening one of these to not just him but to Ino and Itadori as well before they were deployed to Shibuya.

“That’s probably what saved you,” the being said evidently, interrupting Nanami’s thoughts. “Whatever that is, it was imbued with a heavy concentration of neutralized curse energy. So when you died from the attack, that charm activated and repaired your soul.”

Nanami absently fingered the charm, trying to think. Y/n’s ability to neutralize cursed energy had improved immensely under his tutelage, he knew that, but he hadn’t imagined it to this extent. Her other ability included being able to manipulate any cursed energy she neutralized into forms of heat, summoning flames on her palms that towered at least 20 feet tall. How she had imbued the energy into the charm was anyone’s guess.

“And I’m in between worlds.” He repeats again, trying to make sure he’s not misunderstanding the conversation.

“Indeed. Think of this as your own personal purgatory.” Those silver eyes bore into him like moons against a black sky, waiting to see his reaction.

Purgatory. Nanami pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, unable to fathom how insane this sounded. “I thought purgatory was for people who needed to be redeemed.”

“It is usually. But in your case, it looks like the veil partitioning the worlds got confused, seeing as how you left one dead, and then suddenly became alive in another. Death probably couldn’t figure out what to do with you so it sent you here instead.”

“So I’m stuck here?”

Despite the miraculousness of it all, Nanami couldn’t help but feel a twinge of irritation. He had been prepared for death for several years now. So much to the point that he had a will drafted, signed, and sealed, declaring all his possessions to be donated to charity since he had no other family or next of kin. A copy of the keys to his house had been entrusted to the lawyer who had helped draft the will. He had all his affairs set in order with the expectation that his death would be sudden and he was unwilling to burden anyone to deal with the repercussions.

He had known he would die in the line of duty. He had accepted his fate the moment Mahito had laid a hand on him in the underground, welcoming death as a tranquil friend. His whole life had been struggle after struggle, a gamble, clawing his way to stay alive. All he could say was that he had been lucky so far. There had to be a moment when that luck ran out. He had been dreaming of knowing peace and death seemed to be the only option for that.

“Does it bother you, that you are alive?” The purgatory being asks him curiously, noting his less-than-happy expression. “Most would rejoice at this second chance for life.”

The question hits Nanami with a gravity he hadn’t been expecting. “Most people haven’t lived my life. I’ve done enough. I’m tired. I’ve earned the right to a peaceful death.”

“And yet, it looks like someone desperately wanted you to live.” Those hypnotic eyes wander over to the charm dangling on his wrist. “Is that not reason enough? To not want to die?”

Disturbed by the notion, Nanami grips the charm. Y/n’s energy had kept him alive, unwittingly preventing him from moving on into the afterlife. Whether that had been her intent was debatable. Her desperately wanting him to live? It just didn’t seem likely to him. Sure, perhaps she didn’t want him to die in the way that people didn’t want others to die in general. But beyond that? He couldn’t fathom her being so consumed by the thought of his death that she would create a charm that essentially kept him alive after having his soul damaged to what should have been a point beyond repair.

Y/n had a late start in her career as a sorceress, and certain concepts about it seemed to stymie her, more typically seen in a younger student than someone her age. He had repeatedly told her to not worry about him when he took her on missions, to value her life more than his. He drilled it into her head when he taught her self-defense, that if there was an opportunity to escape she should take it, the hand-to-hand combat sometimes leaving bruises on her skin because she’d been unwilling to take a shot at him. It always pained him when that happened, marking her, leaving those unsavory blemishes on her but how else was she going to learn that fairness wasn’t something that existed in Jujutsu? Her willingness to get a little scuffed up if it meant protecting him from a curse irked him. She was rather like a kitten unwilling to be shooed away from a reluctant petter. His lips curled wryly as he imagined her expression if she ever heard that comparison out loud.

‘Don’t be so cruel Nanami san!’ She’d probably say, those large (color) eyes looking at him reproachfully. And for a moment, his mind’s eye couldn’t picture anything else except that; those large (color) eyes, and the shock in them when he told her that he didn’t think he’d live very long. She hadn’t said anything to convince him his mindset was wrong, but she did look like he had betrayed her by expressing his very honest and logical opinion. As though he had broken an oath to her by not saying he wanted to live long and prosper.

Nanami gives himself a mental shake. This wasn't the time to be thinking about Y/ni's opinion on his death. The bigger task at hand now was figuring out what to do about his imprisonment in purgatory.

All the while, the shadow hadn’t wavered and had merely continued to look at him work through his inner monologue. Realizing that Nanami had reached a limit, it said, “No, you are not stuck here. At least, not for very long.”

The sorcerer’s head snaps up at those words, eyes narrowing behind the green glass of his frames. “What do you mean, not very long?”

“Well, the neutralized energy imbued into that charm? It’s not infinitely going to remain contained in that. The seal broke when it saved your life, and it’s essentially trickling out little particles of it. It will run out at some point, although it’s difficult to say when that is.”

“And when it does run out?”

“You’ll die.” The being says simply. “And move on into the next realm. That’s the way purgatory is supposed to work. Cleanse you to be fit to live in the realm of death.”

“And it’s unknown when that will happen?”

The shadow appears to ponder his question before offering a hesitant guess. “A few days, maybe 4 or 5 at maximum, based on the energy intensity that it's currently emitting.”

“And what am I to do for 4 to 5 days here?” Nanami gestures around the gloomy library, obviously not impressed with this arrangement. These extra days before his impending death somehow made a vein pop in his forehead. It was like a pre-death before the actual one.

“Well, you must have noticed by now that this is the neighborhood you used to live in. You are free to wander around here and experience your old life one last time. You can visit your apartment, take the subway and wander around the Jujutsu High campus, or watch a movie in the theater.” The shadow suggested, sounding like a pleasant tour guide for the afterlife. “Think of it as a vacation before your death.”

It struck Nanami as a little absurd but he strokes his chin, considering. “And that’s my only option? To experience my old life before dying?”

“It’s not the only option. You could go back and live.”

A pregnant pause hangs in the air at those words. Nanami’s eyes widen at the thought. He could go back to the land of the living? He hadn’t even considered that as an option. He only had death on his mind. Thoughts of living on a beach, days filled with no responsibility still flickered through his mind but at the same time…

“What is it about life that makes you so hesitant?” The purgatory being asks him inquisitively.

Nanami opens his mouth but no words come out. Had he been thinking about how to escape his situation that all he had ever thought about was dying? It wasn’t unexpected of him. He had learned so long ago that life was mostly shit, with a few moments of relief folded in. At least it was for curse users. He remembers seeing all the people he knew die, how he had tried to escape from Jujutsu, only to be sucked back in because he knew he didn’t fit in anywhere else. When faced with the choice of remaining in a job of corporate greed, or one that endangered his life but was somewhat altruistic, the choice became apparent. He had returned to Jujutsu. Not entirely selflessly, but with the idea that it was the quicker way out of his misery.

“Is there nothing you would like to return to?” The shadow presses. “Remember that you are a very rare case. Hardly anyone ends up in purgatory under your circumstances. I would hate to see a life go to waste because you don’t know what to do with it.”

A sudden memory comes into Nanami’s mind. A day of unexpected frivolity, when Y/n, Yuji, and Ino had convinced him to come along to an amusement park. It was an odd day but to his surprise, he hadn't hated it. Y/n had mostly stayed away from the roller-coasters, leaving it to Yuji and Ino, wandering with Nanami to the food stalls, closer in age to him than she was to the boys. It was a strange feeling of domesticity he had never experienced before, almost like they were a hodgepodge family of misfits. It was the closest thing he had experienced to a normal day in a long time.

But days like that were rare. They were like sprinkles on top of ice cream. People could never have more sprinkles than ice cream. Life just didn't work that way. However, Nanami found himself contemplating his choices. Perhaps he had been so jaded that he thought life was wading through ice cream instead of appreciating the sprinkles? And here he was dreaming about sprinkles when he was stuck in purgatory.

He sighs and shakes his head. “If I did go back, would it make a difference?” He asks doubtfully.

The being’s eyes crinkle warmly, almost like it's smiling. “To one person, yes. And isn't that more than enough?”

The charm swings from his wrist like a pendulum. He considers the shadow’s words and feels his heart clench uncomfortably. The stakes almost felt too high, wagering his return to life on the chance that it would make a difference to Y/n. Well, maybe not just her. He frowns as he feels the energy in the trinket resonate for a brief moment when he thinks of her, as though it was trying to convince him to make the gamble. He had never quite paid attention to her energy signature before now, so concentrated within the tiny object; it felt like a warm cup of coffee on a lazy Saturday morning. He feels disconcerted that he could sense this now and it was making him want to change his mind about dying. He sighed deeply, feeling his resolve begin to solidify, even though it felt like he was making the wrong choice.

“How do I get out of here?”

The shadow has no features except its eyes, but if Nanami could assign it an expression, it would have to be triumph.

“I’m so glad you asked.” It appraisingly looks at him, before continuing. “Perhaps you might want to let the lady know you’re alive.”

“Must I?” Nanami asks with a hint of exasperation.

The shadow looks amused but continues in an even tone. “I’m afraid I must insist. It's better to give people a warning when you’re coming back from the dead. Prepares them for the prospect of seeing you again. Trust me, it’s better that way.”

“And how do I do that?”

It merely continues to look at him with that amused expression and Nanami almost lets out a growl of frustration. “Listen. I died. Then I was told I wasn’t dead, but I’ll die soon. Then I changed my mind and decided I wanted to live. The least you can do is tell me how to get a message out of here.”

The purgatory being laughs; it’s an eerie noise, yet had all the comfort of a long-lost friend. “Very well 7:3 Sorcerer. It’s simple really. To send a message out of here, all you need to do is blend your cursed energy with the cursed energy of the person you’re thinking about going back to life for. Imbue this energy into a small object which will then find a way to its recipient.”

The elementary way this was said nearly cracks his temper. “Is that all?” He asks, unable to keep the bite of sarcasm out of his voice.

The shadow chuckles at this, adding to his ire. “It really is. Just try focusing on something other than your disappointment of not dying today.”

Nanami takes a deep breath and exhales through his nose trying to keep his composure. “A small object…” His hand grips the handle of his blade and pulls it out, eyeing it carefully. The whole blade wouldn’t make it. He just automatically knew it. But he wanted to make sure Y/n would recognize the message was from him. He fidgets with the blade, thinking, and then by accident, the edge of it comes in contact with the Aum charm.

The blend of energy that shoots through him was a shock; a mix of the warm coffee on Saturday mornings, coupled with the calculated preciseness of a seasoned Q-grader who assessed those coffee beans. The polka dots spattered all over the cloth wrapping the weapon glowed at the edges for a brief second before the blade lost contact with the charm.

Nanami observed the whole process with fascination. Dormant instinct took over him, and he moved his hand so that the charm now swung over the blade. Focusing on that combined energy signature, he purposefully touches the charm to the blade. Y/n’s neutralized curse energy flows into the blade, and he feels his own beginning to fuse with it. He concentrates on his ratio technique, and with a flash, all the polka dots lift off the blade, glowing with a pale sea foam green aura.

“Find her,” he whispers to the dots, and in a hazy glow, they vanish.

Nanami watches, as though in a daze, unable to believe what had just happened. He turns to look at the purgatory being.

“Message sent. Now, how do I get out of here?”

The shadow being had been looking at the spot where the polka dots had vanished. It swirls around and looks at him in the eyes.

“By facing your deepest regrets.”

Animated lines and support banner by @cafekitsune

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straykidshoe · 4 months

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Talk to me ?

PAIRINGS: Lee Minho x Fem!Reader

GENRE: Mature (Smut)

MUSIC: Aquainted by The Weeknd

CONTAINS: College au, enemies to lovers

SMUT WARNINGS: Oral (f recieving), heavy groping, phone sex (she's on the phone whilst getting some.), squirting, Minho being innocent bad boy. please message me if i misseed anything.

WORD COUNT: 2,969

A/N: Numero 2! bad boy with a heart of gold lee know is a weakness of mine. Please send some love for my work <333

You always hated Lee Know, the confident asshole would always sit on your right- always on your fucking right. Be it in class, or in the library where you were trying to study-anywhere you were trying to have some peace and quiet- there he was. With his gang of troublemakers, covered in tattoos and deliciously styled in a way that made you secretly clench your thighs together.

But you could never let him know, you just had to grind your teeth and let him do what he wanted because what could you do? It was a public space, anyone could do whatever they wanted as long as they were quiet. So you opted to ignore him, trying not to let his dangerous pull ensnare you, like many of his other victims.

That was until the day your teacher had asked you and him to stay back, it was a tuesday.. Phycology 101. And there he was- standing in front of the teacher’s desk, head turned back lazily, an expectant look in his eyes whilst you packed your bag- taking your own sweet ass time. Slowly you reached your professor, a sweet woman who would always give you a shiny A+ on every assignment, like every other course teacher you had.

‘-I need you to tutor him.’ You had tuned out the rest of the sentence your professor was saying, mainly because you were definitely not staring at the man next to you- how does someone so annoying have such a pretty side profile..Wait what?

‘Tutor..him?’ you pointed at Minho who was smirking at you,

‘Yes Miss Y/N. Will it be a problem?’ Your teacher was looking at you with such kind eyes, and who were you to say no to someone, a professor no less.

‘I would be happy to Miss.’ You said through your fake smile, your teeth had begun to dry out with how long your face had been fixed in the position.

‘Lovely! I’ll let you two discuss the details-’ She clapped her hands together before shifting her gaze to Minho, ‘-And you, I want to see a real improvement. You’re doing so well in your other classes, so it shouldn’t be too hard. Especially with such a wonderful teacher.’ Your teacher grinned at you, ‘Off you go now, my next class is about to begin!’

As you walked down the crowded hallways of the science block, you were trying to ignore the large presence following you around, hoping that with the many twists and turns you took- he would get the picture and leave you alone.

Soon enough you had reached the girls dormitory, the old vintage architecture always made you calm and serene, imagining the fancy women with beautiful dresses roaming the sidewalks when the university didn’t exist. How badly you wanted to be like them, rich and powerful so effortlessly..

‘Ahem, Ahem’ The coughing noise made you stop in your tracks, you hardly noticed Minho following you, assuming he would stop tailing you like a lost dog. Groaning underneath your breath, you turned on your heel,

‘What?’ You supported your books on one hand as you flipped your hair off your shoulder,

‘Well, when are you free?’ He shoved his hands into his pockets, swaying on the sole of his shoes. God you hated the way his hair billowed out, like a fucking cotton candy- how badly you wanted to take a stick and just-

‘Here- take my number, text me later.’ Once again his movements created an obstacle in your train of thought as he took a pen out of your open pouch and scrawled a few digits onto a scrap piece of paper sticking out from your notebook, placing the pen back in its position- he reached out and tucked a strand of stray hair behind your ear, ‘Don’t miss me too much sweetheart’ You flinched away from his touch, the pads of his fingers against your skin causing a spark of electricity to travel through you.

‘I won’t’, you gritted out from behind your teeth as you watched his retreating figure stop in front of the boys dormitory and begin conversation with one of his friends, ‘Asshole..’ you pushed the door open and sighed as the air conditioned foyer welcomed you in from the heat. Opening the small chit of paper he rested on top of the stack of books in your arm, you sat down on the common room couch. Quickly, you typed in the number into your phone- wanting to get any sense of him away from your person as swiftly as possible. Throwing away the chit in a nearby trash can, you started the treacherous trek of climbing around 5 flights of stairs to your dorm.

It was later the same day, and you had texted the devil himself to meet you in your dorm to begin classes. Since your last meeting with him, you had changed out of your white sweater and black skirt into some old night shorts and a spaghetti strap, along with switching out your contacts with a pair of glasses- but you kept your hair done, a long ponytail adorned with a purple bow clipped on at the rubber band. Lord knows how long that took you in the morning.

Around 6pm, there was a knock on your door- and there he was, in all of his glorious asshole-ness. One arm leaning on the top of your doorframe, another loosely holding onto the strap of his bag- he wore a long black top with grey sweatpants…

Of course he owns grey sweatpants, would he be your most stunning nightmare if he didn’t?

‘Can I come in, or do you need more time to eye-fuck me?’ He smiled at your stunned expression, removing his hand from the doorframe to step closer to you- scanning your face with a piercing gaze.

‘Whatever..’ Clearing your throat, you took a step away from him- giving him space to enter your room. You close the door, keeping your hand on the cold metal doorknob hoping that it will cool down the heat that had swept over your body. Maybe you should open a window?

‘You can sit there for now, next time we’ll meet up in the library,’ A hum of acknowledgement came from behind you. You made your way to the man who was now making himself comfortable on your plush bed, ‘Nice room princess, very.. clean’ he drawled as you sat in front of him and the open textbook in between you both- you scoffed at his comment, ‘Thanks, I guess.’

You brought your own book onto your lap, starting off with the very basics, ‘The first topic in our syllabus is the problem of intuition- it's pretty simple. Look’ You took a highlighter and began to explain meticulously every word in front of him, making sure to stop and answer his questions- if he had any.

This same stop and start procedure kept going for about 1 hour, and Minho was doing surprisingly well, he was attentive, asked all the right questions and answered yours with perfection every single time.

Though, you did catch him looking at you instead of the textbook. But that was a coincidence. That’s what you told yourself the last 4 times it happened,

‘Are you even listening to me?’ you asked him, annoyance evident in your tone, looking up at him from your hunched position over the very neon yellow highlighted text.

‘Yes, obviously I am listening to you Y/N’ He responded, equally annoyed,

‘Well, it doesn’t look like it.’ You straightened your back- squinting your eyes at him.

‘What is your problem with me?’ he threw his hands up, before crossing them over his chest- leaning back against your headboard, ‘I don’t talk to you, and you're annoyed with me. I talk to you, somehow I'm the asshole. What have I even done to you?’ He asked, accusation dripping from his words.

You climbed off the bed, ‘Because..’ you trailed off, for once in your life, you were at a loss for words, ‘Because you annoy me.’

‘Wow, and here I was thinking that you’re smart.’

‘Rude, it’s just-’ it was your turn to fling your arms in the air, ‘You’re annoying. You always pick at my hair, always make fun of my clothes. So, I just started being equally mean to you’

He gaped at you, ‘Firstly, I don’t pick at your hair- it was one time, and I was complimenting you,’ He brought one finger up, like he was checking off boxes in his mind, ‘And secondly, I have never made fun of your clothes- I think you look nice in them.’ he brought up the second finger, before looking back up at you.

‘Yeah, sure,’ you placed you hands on your hips, scrunching up the soft cotton material adorning your body, ‘Whenever you talk to me, you just use the same cheap pick-up lines that you use on all of the other girls you fuck’

His eyes widened in understanding, ‘You’re..jealous’

‘No- no I am not jealous.’ You aren't jealous, you were never that type to get jealous, especially over a guy you never had, ‘You’re just excruciatingly- Ugh’ you groaned, burying your head into your palms, ‘Forget it- where were we..’

You tried to clamber back onto the bed, but he was in your way- standing in front of you, following the steps you took trying to go around him, ‘Move, we still have another half of the-’ you stopped mid sentence when he crooked his index finger under your chin, guiding your head up to meet his eyes, ‘W-what are you doing..’

‘Just admit that you’re jealous.. And I’ll give you what you want’ he smirks, dragging his lips over your cheek- leaving a burning path in their wake. Holy shit.

Your breath hitches, ‘I will do no such thing,’ you were going for firm, but whatever just came out of your mouth was breathless, whiny. Just what he wanted.

‘Come on Princess, I know you want to..’ he had moved to your ear, nibbling on the soft cartilage. Just when you were teetering on the edge of succumbing to his mind games, your phone rang- the ringtone echoing around both of you.

You cursed under your breath- it was 7:30, your father always calls you at 7:30. On a tuesday. And if you didn’t pick up, there would be a heap of messages for you to answer in the next 10 minutes.

You rushed over to your phone, sliding the call button over and holding it up to your ear, ‘Hey dad…’ you looked up to Minho who was boring holes into your face, you held your finger up to your lips- narrowing your eyes at him when he approached you at your desk.

You stifle a gasp when he connects his lips to your neck, sucking and biting at the skin- teasing it between his teeth, ‘Yeah, nothing- nothings wrong. How’s mum?’ you mumble into the phone, before rolling your eyes back when he drags one strap off your shoulder, planting a kiss onto the sensitive skin.

You hear him snicker against your shoulder before doing the same to the other side, you shoot daggers down at him. Trying to will him to stop before you end up giving your father a very inappropriate memory- but the man doesn’t get the message and pulls your tank top up from the hem, stopping just below your breasts.

Exposing your stomach and shoulders to the chilly air in your room, whilst keeping your breasts covered by the remaining fabric, Minho gets down on his knees in front of you- looking up into your hooded eyes, looking for any signs of inhibition- but all he can see are your cheeks flushed with colour and blown out pupils.

Painfully slow, he brought his face closer to your stomach- leaving wet kisses everywhere. Man, he is such a fucking tease. You lean back, resting your ass on the side of your desk whilst your free hand grips the wood so hard it looks like it’s about to crack; lolling you head up, you felt your brain getting fuzzy so much so that you almost missed what your father was saying on the other end of the phone, ‘Hmm, what dad? No, no I am not distracted. No please don’t go get mum- dad!’ you groan heavily as the familiar hold music blares into your ear.

You gaze down at Minho, snarling when he starts drag his fingers around the waistband of your shorts- cupping your hand over the microphone, you bring your head low enough so you can hiss, ‘Don’t you fucking dare..’

He shoots you a cheeky grin before roughly pulling them down your legs, he pushes you further into the desk- forcing you to sit on the smooth dark wood. Just as you were about to curse at the personified version of horny, your mother’s shrill voice screeches out of the speaker, ‘Darling, your father tells me you don’t sound well. Should we come by to visit?’ You open your mouth to answer, just as Minho leaves an open mouth kiss on your panties- just over your leaking sex.

You bite your knuckle as your parents continue to bombard you with unrecognisable words, honestly. You couldn’t care less about whatever your parents were going on about when Lee fucking Know was in between your legs kissing the sensitive part of your thighs, teasing you to the point where there was now a visible dark patch on the crotch of your underwear.

‘Mhm yea sure mum, you can come by tomorrow. No I am not trying to get rid of you- no mother I still love you-’ you hold the phone away from your ear so that you are not subjected to the shrieks of your beloved parents.

You glance back down at Minho who was now prodding the wet cotton with his finger, he curled an eyebrow up at you. And as much as you wanted to tell him, ‘No you beautiful bastard, I do not want you to finger me senseless whilst I am on the phone to my parents,’ you just whimpered and nodded you head down at him- sighing in relief when he pushed your underwear to the side and sunk his long, middle finger until the knuckle.

‘Y/N? Y/N can you hear me, see I told you- we should never have let her stay in the dorms.’ You grit your teeth as your mother threw around these accusations.

Sighing in frustration you cut the call- deciding to deal with the ramifications later, you moaned out loud when he curled his finger upward, ‘Please..’ Minho wretched his gaze away from your dripping cunt, ‘Please what sweetheart? Gotta tell me what you want..’ he smirked up at you, damn him and his smirk, sighing in frustration you gripped his soft strands and whispered out into the silence, ‘Want you to finger me senseless, then fuck me into oblivion’ you smiled down at his stunned expression, before choking on a moan when he added a second finger into you- providing you with a sinful stretch.

‘Well, well, well. All it takes is me fucking you senseless? Shoulda told me that earlier, dirty little slut..’ he breathes out a chuckle against your pubic hair as he drags himself up to your face, keeping his fingers stuffed within you.

Slotting himself between your legs, he connects both your lips into a messy, heated kiss- you felt his tongue caress yours poisoning you with the sweetest venom. Pulling away, you groan when his fingers start moving at a brutal pace- gripping his loose shirt, you slip your hands underneath, revelling in the small divots and bumps his toned stomach contain, ‘Holy shit-’ you gasp out resting your head on Minho’s shoulder,

‘Nuh uh, want you to keep your eyes on me when you cum around my fingers..’ you loll your head up, before reaching the tight fabric around your breasts down, exposing them to his ferocious gaze- bringing one of your hands off your desk, you roll your perky nipple between the pads of your thumb and index finger, ‘Fuck Fuck- Minho please, please lemme cum. Wanna cum for you..’ you babble incoherent sentences against his lips, praying to whichever god is willing to answer you that he lets you cum, ‘Oh God..’ you bite down on his lip, revelling in his deep moan when you draw the smallest amount of blood.

He pulls away, ‘Not God, baby- Lee Minho’ his deep growl paired with him harshly pressing the heel of his palm against your clit sends you off the edge, like a rubber band pulled to taut. You snap. It feels like you're on cloud 9, you sag against him- twitching and breathing heavily; you feel wrung out of all energy.

Until Minho uses his thumb to roll your puffy clit underneath the pad of his large finger, ‘Shit-’ you jerk up, rutting and rolling your hips into his harsh movements, ‘Ngh, No- no stop. It hurts..’ You whimper loudly, he ignores your cries when he feels your walls clamping down on his fingers; bringing his mouth up to your ear, ‘Imagine how good my cock would feel inside you..’ he pistons his fingers inside of you, curling them up- finding the spongy place inside of you that catapults you out of the heavens and straight to hell. You convulse around his fingers strongly, whining when you feel your thighs sprayed with liquid, ‘Jesus christ sweetheart.’ He trails off, you try to open your eyes but slump down onto your desk- resting your back against the cool surface, you laugh into the heavy air when he mutters, ‘Should’ve got you to talk to me sooner..’

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frantic-fiction · 22 days

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Heya 👋

It's been a bit, but life is like that sometimes. I hope you're all doing well. I'm just going to drop this little sneak peek of my upcoming fic. It might change slightly when I edit, but the whole piece should be out in a day or two.

Warning: 18+ MDNI, breeding kink, fingering

EDIT: Full fic is out now!

"Darling, do you remember that book you gifted me?" Astarion's hands trail down your side, and you part your legs more for his reaching fingers.

"Y-yes, the one you scoffed at and threw in the corner?" Still having the sense of mind to tease him, he chuckles when your quip spills into whimpers when the pad of his thumb presses against your covered clit.

"Well, I must admit the poor excuse for educational text did have some interesting information." Astarion is pleased with the dampening fabric of your shorts. Your responsiveness never ceases to leave him aching with need.

"What interesting information are we talking about?"

Astarion doesn't respond right away, slipping his hand under the band of your shorts. He swipes his deft fingers through your dripping folds and begins to tease your entrance while rubbing tight circles against your clit.

You gasp and drop your head to his shoulder, rolling your hips into his palm. With his spare hand, Astarion cups the back of your neck and tilts your head back. You meet his heated gaze with lidded eyes and mouth agape.

"Dhampirs." Astarion purrs, plunging two of his fingers into your dripping core, curling up just enough to have you gasping his name.

Your fingernails dig into his forearm clinging for anything to ground you. Astarion waits for you to react, loving the way you roll against his hand, desperate for all that he gives you. It seems you're lost in your pleasure or not quite catching on to what he's implying because you're looking at him, clearly not following his words.

"Half-vampires, my sweet."

You clench around his fingers, letting out a soft whimper that would have gone unheard if not for his heightened hearing. He smirks, picking up the pace. Astarion grabs your chin, guiding you to look at him.

"Does that excite you, darling?"

"Gods, shit," You breathe. "Please, don't stop."

"You would look so beautiful carrying our child. Hells, imagine."

Astarion trails his fangs over the skin of your neck, sucking on the pinprick from the previous night. His hips are now rutting against your leg and the edge of the counter just enough to ease the ache in his groin. Astarion can feel you getting close just by the little jolts of your hips and the tight squeeze of your cunt.

"Do you want my child, love?" Astarion hums against your skin. "Do you want me to fill you to the brim with my seed, fuck you until you're a dripping mess? Until there's a little one growing in your womb."

"Please! Fuck, I'm going t-"

"Come for me, my sweet girl."

#will delete when full fic is posted #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion #reader insert #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion imagine #astarion ancunin #frantic fiction #fanfic

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the-s1lly-corner · 17 days

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Ej, Lj, Masky, Hoodie, Masky, Ticci Toby and Bloody Painter x reader who draws them

Prize 5/5 for @reivelmin !! I hope you've enjoyed all of your prizes WOOHOO!! I had a blast writing them, hardly ever get the excuse to write for some of these characters EHEHEHEHE

EYELESS JACK

I've always headcanoned that Jack was always a bit of an artist himself, although the most he does it sketch every now and then to keep his kind busy. He points out some techniques he recognizes and asks you about it. It.. actually takes him a moment to realize that all of the drawings are him. You can practically hear the gears turning in his head before he tries to move on. This opens the window for the two of you to draw together every now and then.. though jack is always a little embarrassed.. flustered.. with the knowledge that you have so much of him in your book

LAUGHING JACK

Very loud when saying he loves it. Hes flipping through the pages before pausing, looking you dead in the eye. He makes a comment about how you must be soooooo obsessed with him. Hes teasing you, of course! He offers to draw you in return.. though dont expect anything crazy, Jack's not.. the best artist- and hes okay with that! Loves looking through your art whenever you offer it. Would kick his feet in the air while looking through the pages. Sometimes you give him sketches to color, to keep him busy while you have to go do something

MASKY

He already knew what you were drawing him before you ever have the chance to show him. The man is silent and is constantly keeping an eye on you.. he does NOT know how to be a normal roommate!! You probably dont get the chance to show him yourself, because he points at a stray pencil marking that you forgot to erase. Worst jumpscare of your life, if you werent already aware of his presence in the room... he.. actually gives a thumbs up. Which doesnt seem like much but considering that he doesnt really emote, that's a huge thing... now does he think it's a little odd that you have a bunch of sketches where hes the reference? A little, but he does offer some good poses and lighting due to him tending to lurk in the shadows

HOODIE

Very similar to Masky but at least he pretends to not know. You walk up to him with your sketchbook and hes so obviously playing dumb but its.. sweet that hes pretending. He takes his time looking through all of the art, where some of the others get too excited and flip through it all. He doesnt talk, but he does communicate that he thinks it all looks great via sign.. oh he would definitely start leaving sticky notes with doodles around for you to find

TICCI TOBY

I think Toby would be a little overwhelmed, he didnt think anyone would be interested in him enough to want to fill an entire sketchbook with him. He tries to cover up his shock by lightly making fun of the situation. Though every tease he tries to draw out falls flat, as everytime he goes to poke fun of something about the art he trails off. Besides, he couldn't bring himself to actually make fun of the stuff you make.. if it's a gift, you offer to take it back but he quickly shuts that down. Its like the Bob's burger friendship bracelet audio, "no fuck off its mine"

BLOODY PAINTER

As an artist himself, he asks you about what materials you used as well as the techniques you used! Unlike EJ, Helen is more thorough in his questioning and knows a lot more fancy terms.. he points out the good parts of your pieces, and catches himself before giving his criticisms.. he at least makes sure that the criticism is wanted before just unloading (and even then hes constructive! Hes well aware that just dunking on someone does nothing to help them grow). It actually strikes his ego a lot that you would dedicate so much time and material to just him, and it inspires him to make something for you in return. If he didnt know you were an artist prior to this, he offers to paint with you.. whether as a collab or just simply working parallel to one another! Just please pay no mind to him staring at you more intently while hes at his canvas...!

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mochiwrites · 12 days

Note

I would also like to see you put scarian in situations:

51. Meet ugly/awkward first meetings please?

51. Meet ugly/awkward first meetings (put that guy in situations!)

reblogs do more than likes!

“You tricked me!” Grian’s voice lifts in pitch as he yells. He’s spent all day hunting for that scarred merchant who sold him that ‘wooden cutting board.’ Grian’s not the sort to get so easily scammed, but the merchant had been… very nice looking. He managed to find him after practically running through the Hypixel hub all day.

For his part, the man looks startled by Grian’s arrival, green eyes nervously flicking around their surroundings. No one bats an eye at them. He looks at Grian, “Ah! You’re the red sweater guy from a few days ago! How’s that cutting board treating you?” He smiles, all smooth and polite.

It makes Grian growl with frustration. “You said it was wooden, but the second I went to use it, the whole thing crumbled to dust!” The scarred man blinks at him, feigning some kind of concern. It makes Grian want to grab him by the shoulders and shake him around. “You scammed me out of my diamonds.”

“Why I’d never scam! Everything I have to sell,” he gestures to the large pouch at his feet, “is completely authentic! If you want another cutting board I could—”

“I want my diamonds back,” Grian interrupts him, not even giving him another chance to smooth talk his way into Grian’s wallet. Not again. He’s not letting this handsome guy have his way with him again!

The merchant winces in return, quickly covering it up with a smile, “I’m afraid it was non-refundable! I’d be happy to give you another product in exchange?” He tilts his head before his eyes light up. “How about a couple of rare magic crystals? Or an enchanted book? I have a one of a kind fishing rod with so much luck, a fisherman once found Atlantis because of it!”

Grian’s eyebrow twitches in annoyance, “How in Void’s name did I let you talk your way into making me buy anything from you, dude. It’s so obvious you’re a scam.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re so blunt it hurts?” the scarred man quips, the smile never leaving his face. “Does that scare off the ladies?”

Grian snorts, “It’s sent plenty of men running.”

He pretends not to notice how the man’s eyes light up. “You sure have a sharp wit about you. I like that.” The smile on his face softens into something a bit more real, and Grian sees the way it reaches his eyes. It makes his heart skip a beat.

“You’re not smooth talking your way out of repaying me.” He crosses his arms, squinting at the man. “I’m expecting to be repaid — I gave you ten diamonds for a piece of junk!”

The man laughs, and oh if isn’t the nicest sound Grian has ever heard. “May I interest you in a different deal instead, my good sir?” he inquires, taking a step closer.

“Depends on if it involves getting my diamonds back or not.” Grian lifts a brow.

“While I can’t make your diamonds magically reappear, I can make it up to you. If you’ll allow me too.” That stupidly soft smile is still on his face.

Grian’s nose scrunches up and he scoffs. “Thanks but no thanks. I have rent to pay so if you can’t pay me back, I have to go find a different way.” He knew it was a bad idea to begin with! What the heck did he need a cutting board for anyway?! He doesn’t even cook for crying out loud! The man really had just… charmed him with words alone. Well, his looks certainly had something to do with it. It’s not Grian’s fault he’s weak for a guy with fluffy brown hair and nice green eyes!

He frowns and steps back, turning around. He starts walking away with hurried steps.

“W-Wait!” the man cries out, hurrying after him. Grian’s pace doesn’t slow, determined. They fall into step together, walking side by side. “Just hear me out!”

“No thanks!” Grian starts walking faster, hoping to shake him.

Unfortunately, he doesn’t.

“I promise it’ll be worth your time! Your while even! I’ll knock your socks off!”

“Not interested!”

“Please! Let me take you out to dinner!”

Grian stops short, eyes going wide. His cheeks go red, and he whirls on the merchant to look at him. “What?!”

“Let me take you out to dinner!” he repeats, and Grian continues to stare at him, jaw dropping. “While I can’t give you back your diamonds, I can at least treat you to some Goodtimes.” He winks, and oh Void is he flirting right now?!

“I— you— what—” Grian stammers out, heart thundering in his chest. The man’s smile is doing terrible things to his critical thinking skills.

“You won’t have to pay for a thing! I can talk our way into the best restaurant of your choosing,” he continues on.

Now that… is a curious thing. And Grian feels like he’s about to make another bad decision.

“…if it’s a date, you should at least tell me your name.”

“It’s Scar! Scar Goodtimes,” Scar replies, green eyes bright and pleased. There’s a little smirk on his face. “And you are?”

“Grian.” Is he really doing this? “So… where and when am I meeting you, Scar?” He’s really doing this.

“Let’s say… tomorrow afternoon? Meet me here?” Scar questions, and Grian takes in a breath.

“I expect my socks to be blown off,” he teases.

(It turns out to be the best decision he’s ever made. Even if the first choice was a bad financial investment.)

#mochi speaks #mochi writes #secret husbands au #scarian #hermitshipping #ask game

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scribbling-dragon · 4 months

Note

45 and flower husbands (or maybe emberfrost/snowbugs :eyes:) for the ask game!

breath from death

summary:

“Oh, love…” the sheer agony in Scott’s voice is enough to make Tango crack his eyes open, watery from his subsequent coughing fits, tears continuing to bead up as he tries to bring Scott’s shape into focus. When he does, he almost wishes he hadn’t, having to resist the urge to recoil from the way Scott is looking at him.

(ao3 link)

(2,473 words)

hdjsk this was meant to be more angsty than it actually was,, i just made tango into a bit of a loser tbh. but! hope you enjoy the snowbugs (i can't lie the only reason i wrote them is bc i loved the name hdsjhsjk). did i see scott gift tango a heart and go a little silly? yes. yes i did

also! if you liked this and want to send in another request the list of prompts is here! i've got a lotta free time at the moment, so i'll definitely be writing stuff a lot more than i have been recently

“Ooh, Skizz really wasn’t lying, hm?”

Tango glances up at the voice, not even bothering to lean away from the bush he’s made himself a comfy spot against. Or as comfy as he can be when every part of him is in burning pain and agony. But the slight slouch he’s found himself in puts the least amount of pressure on his various injuries and maladies, and so is the most comfortable he can be right now.

“Scott,” he croaks out, wincing a little at how terrible his voice really sounds. He’d been spitting smoke earlier, angry with how much energy it was taking to simply haul himself to his feet. It’s left him with the inside of his mouth covered in ash, and his throat feeling like it’s been rubbed raw. “Good to see you could make it.”

Skizz is somewhere nearby, but not close enough to interrupt if Scott decided he wanted to put him out of his misery right here and now. He’s somewhat caught between being thankful for such a thing, and angry that he couldn’t go on any further.

He’d just be another footnote at the end of a book, another mention; a small aside, make sure to mention the one that almost dies in the most silent and insignificant ways.

He is well aware of his previous contributions to these games. He goes out with barely a sound, and the world carries on without him, continues to spin round and round, maybe a few choosing to mourn him. Be sad over the misfortune of his death, how easily such a thing could have been prevented.

He doesn’t even realise he’s breathing smoke again until Scott coughs, waving a hand in front of his face to waft the smoke away. Tango snaps his jaw shut almost immediately, muttering a quiet “sorry” when Scott continues to cough.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Rough day?”

“You could say that,” he stretches his back out, wincing as it tugs at the edges of unhealed injuries. A stray branch from within the cherry blossom bush scraping a hot line of agony across his spine. He curls inwards on himself with a hiss of pain, tears beading in his eyes at the sudden sting of all his injuries making their protests known.

The small relief from earlier, afforded to him by other servermates, swayed by Skizz’s plea for a small gift of love, a small act of mercy. A better act of mercy would be to put him out of his misery entirely, he thinks humourlessly.

“Hey, c’mon, you're just making this worse for yourself,” a hand lays over the back of his own hand, slowly encircling it before pulling it away. The movements are done with such delicacy, such gentleness, it’s as though he’s made of an extremely fragile glass. Like he’d break if the hands moved him too fast, that he’d shatter into a thousand pieces.

Maybe he would. He feels about ready to fall apart right now, anyway.

“See,” the person – Scott, it’s still Scott, he’s still here, Tango realises belatedly – breathes, his voice barely above a whisper. “That’s much better. Now, where has your teammate gotten off to?”

“He, agh,” he coughs again, a small curl of smoke rolling off his tongue as he hacks, one or both his lungs threatening to make an appearance as he doubles over again, stomach cramping with the force of his coughs. “He went to get some resources, something to better survive the next few hours.”

“He didn’t stay with you?”

“The idiot would have,” he scoffs, laughing slightly. He then has to cough again, appreciating Scott’s gentle stroking over the top of his shoulders. He’s nowhere near as warm as Tango himself is, the fire stoked within his core happily blazing away, despite the disrepair of the rest of his body. “I made him leave. I’m dead either way. My death will be nothing to gasp and cry over, better he’s not around when it does happen.”

When he does, he almost wishes he hadn’t, having to resist the urge to recoil from the way Scott is looking at him. His hand is still lying over the top of Tango’s shoulders gently, though no longer stroking to soothe him through a coughing fit.

When Scott had turned up, looking down at him with those gleaming red eyes. Eyes that herald violence, promise it, Tango had willingly accepted his death. Would probably have stretched his arms out and taunted Scott for coming after someone when their guard is so far down that it’s ripped to shreds if even twitching his arms didn’t hurt so badly.

And then he’d just…stood there, crouched in front of him and comforted him as he coughed.

It’s his own fault that his lungs are in such a sorry state, anger over everything about these damn games making his flame burn too hot too quickly. He usually has better control over it, breathes fire for a party trick sometimes, not to clog his lungs with ash. Still, Scott had provided the comfort happily, despite them being on rival teams now, people that should be looking to kill each other. Not make sure that he can breathe and is comfortable and that his ally hasn’t abandoned him.

“Every death is worth shedding at least a tear over,” Scott tells him. His hands have migrated from his shoulders to cradling the back of his neck, now kneeling in front of him instead of crouching. Tango almost wants to tell him that he’ll stain his jeans with grass and mud; they may already be wrecked beyond repair, ripped in ways that aren’t purposeful and stained with old blood, but the thought still crosses his mind. “You’ve built good alliances here, love, there will be several tears shed over your death.”

“And a few oh, poor Tango, what a terrible way to go!’s following behind it,” he snorts without humour, only sparing a moment to be relieved when it doesn’t catapult him into another coughing fit. “The same way it goes every time,” he finishes, slightly bitter. It brings a sour taste to his mouth to think about his previous failures. His previous embarrassments.

He’s jolted from his self-pity party when Scott’s fingers twitch over the nape of his neck, making his efforts to ignore how Scott’s hands are currently resting against the back of his neck null and void. His efforts to ignore how the hands reach far enough round that Scott could easily strangle him. Could simply wrap tight and squeeze the last drops of life from him. Scott would definitely benefit from it, numerous superficial injuries littering his body that he’d probably be relieved to get rid of.

But Scott doesn’t grip to his neck tighter, doesn’t shove him to the ground and crush his windpipe. His hands remain a heavy, almost comforting, weight at the back of his neck. Their faces are close like this, he realises belatedly, the intimacy of such a thing settling over him suddenly and heavily. Like a weighted blanket’s just been chucked on his head. He feels a little unbalanced by such a realisation, even as close to death’s door as he currently is.

It makes an odd feeling wash over him, only increasing as Scott moves his hands, fingers tickling the short furs at the back of his neck. Can feel the way Scott’s thumb brushes over his pulse point – stupid, doesn’t he know that the thumb has a pulse? That you can’t measure someone else’s heartbeat with your thumb, as your own racing heart will interfere?

Scott’s pinky fingers ghost over his jaw as his hands retreat, and tango almost makes a pitiful sound in the back of his throat when he thinks Scott’s pulling away from him.

He’s glad he didn’t (really, really glad) when Scott’s hands still again, settling over his jaw, cradling his face gently between his palms.

He really is quite close now, close enough that Tango can take in the smudged state of his make-up, like Scott’s been rubbing his eyes and smearing it around the corners of his eyes. Or that he’s not reapplied it recently and he’s simply been wearing the same make-up for the past few days.

He’d given up on the stupid pink eyeliner and little hearts he’d draw on his own and the others’ faces ages ago, tired of reapplying it every morning, wasting precious time that could be spent doing other things. More important things.

Scott’s make-up still looks good, though, smudged the way it is.

“I’ve always noticed when you died,” Scott tells him. This close, he can see the pink flecks in Scott’s eyes. They almost match the shirt he chose to wear for this go-around, wanting to fit better with the whole vibe they had going on at the Heart Foundation prior to its burning. “Kinda hard not to, when you're checking your comm every few minutes and hoping it’s not one of your allies that’s just died.”

“Oh,” he says, maybe a little dumbly. So sue him! He’s not sure what to say to a man very close to his face, still looking pretty despite his smudged make-up, when he gets told that he always notices him.

Yeah, some snide part of his brain comments, always notices when you make a fool of yourself and die in the most humiliating way possible.

“Oh,” Scott repeats, snickering a little. It makes his shoulders shake, meaning Tango’s face is wobbling a little because Scott’s still holding his face, cradling him carefully like he’s some delicate thing to be treasured.

Man, he’s glad Skizz hasn’t made a reappearance yet. He’s not sure how he’d explain his current everything to him with a straight face. Skizz would probably laugh at him until he cries.

“What else do you want me to say to that!” he protests, a little embarrassed at his slightly lacklustre response. “Thanks, I notice every time you die too – I'm always dead at that point! I can’t notice.”

“No, no,” Scott shakes his head, brushing one of his thumbs over the paper-thin skin beneath his eye. The motion makes him shiver, something weird, but not unfamiliar or unwelcome, curl down and around his spine. He shudders again. “I’m just teasing you, love, promise.” His eyes twinkle with mirth, “Would you believe me if I told you I came here with kind intentions?”

“Not at all,” Tango says, half-joking. “You’ve only been mean to me so far.”

“Aw, I'm hurt!” Scott cries, eyes crinkling as he grins. “I saw Skizz’s, uh, plea for help on your behalf and thought I might as well pop over and give you a little boost.”

“Oh, really?” He perks up at that. A few people have been by already, each giving him a small boost. To think he was in an even worse state as the sun rose that morning is somewhat horrifying to think about. It’s a miracle he even managed to have a coherent conversation with Skizz as their day began. “Well, c’mon then! Don't leave poor ol’ me waiting.”

“Okay, okay,” Scott laughs again, a little quieter. “God, you tell someone you're about to give them something, and it’s all they can think about.”

“All I can think about is how much pain I'm currently in,” Tango jokes.

He realises that the joke didn’t quite land as he intended when Scott’s face doesn’t continue to crease with smile lines, instead dropping into something sadder. “Well,” he says confidently, “I can fix that real quick for you, love.”

And then Scott’s leaning and Tango’s floundering, because, sure, he’s kissed people before. For definite. Kissed people plenty of times, actually! But he never quite knows what to do with his hands, nevermind the fact that he can barely even lift his hands right now.

Scott seems comfortable taking the initiative, giving him a chaste peck on the lips, warm hands continuing to cradle his face gently, before pulling back just as quickly as he’d moved in.

“There,” he says, sounding satisfied. “All better?”

“I – yeah. Thanks,” he manages. He mentally fist pumps when his voice doesn’t wobble and he doesn’t immediately chase after Scott with significantly less achy limbs than a few moments before. “That’s really appreciated, thank you.”

“Not a problem,” Scott says, wiping a little around his bottom lip, clearing away some of the smudged make-up there. “Always glad to help!” He chirps, then stands. “Well, I’ll be seeing you around, hopefully not at the other end of my sword!”

“Hopefully not,” Tango agrees. Really hopefully not because he’ll probably just stand there like an idiot and think about how soft Scott’s lips are, and the way they’d slotted against his own, and-

The clearing of a throat above him has him blinking his eyes open, squinting a little at the figure silhouetted by the sun.

“See you had a little visitor,” Skizz tells him, sounding far too smug for someone that probably only saw Scott walk away. Tango’s sheltered where he sits, so even if Skizz was on his way back while…all that happened, there’s no way he actually saw anything.

“I- what? Oh, Scott, yeah. He gave me a heart.”

“See he gave you a little something else, too.”

What?

“What?” He asks, sitting up slightly, hissing under his breath as his cracked ribs forcefully remind him that they're still cracked. “What d’you mean?”

“You got a little something,” Skizz says, “around here.”

And gestures around his mouth.

Tango wipes at his lip with his thumb, cringing when it comes away stained with make-up. Make-up that everyone has seen Scott wearing recently.

“Oh, wow, haha,” he laughs, not at all amused. “How’d that get there.”

“How indeed,” Skizz says, obviously already knowing, the dick. “Maybe we should ask the whole server, see if they can help us solve this mystery.”

“No!” Tango throws himself upwards as Skizz goes to retrieve his comm, smacking his hands away frantically. “No, no, I'm sure we can figure this out ourselves.”

“Oh, yeah. I'm sure we can.” Skizz says, and walks off. Still grinning.

Tango collapses back down to the ground, indulging his moment of dramatism even as it aggravates a few minor wounds.

Whatever shitty higher being watches over me now, he pleads, please strike me down before he comes back.

The shitty higher being watching over him decidedly does not strike him down, and Skizz comes back to laugh him again, though he brings a make-up wipe with him…maybe Tango can find it in his heart to forgive him. Eventually.

#juno.writes #asks #wren-kitchens #ask game #trafficshipping #snowbugs #emberfrost #scott smajor #tangotek #secret life smp #secret life spoilers #(slightly)#slsmp #secret life scott #secret life tango #traffic series #trafficblr #traffic smp

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disasterofastory · 11 months

Note

‌👀Oh is your request box is open? If I may, could you maybe do a piece where Thranduil is trying to court reader but she's too focused on her food? Lmao. And maybe we can pretend that a corsage type flower was a courting gift in Silvan elves culture, so Thranduil try to do it for reader since she has many Silvan elves friend, hoping reader notice his intention. Btw thank you

Dinner Thranduil x Reader Warnings: none

A/N: Thank you for your patience! I hope you will enjoy it. :)

You've never been in his room before. You never had the reason for it until now. And you don't understand why you are feeling so nervous about it. You shouldn't. It's just a room, and Thranduil is your friend. There is nothing you have to worry about.

It will be fine.

"It will be fine," you breathe out, forcing a shaky smile on your face as you knock on the tall wooden door. You are not even sure what you should do. Should you knock again? Or just enter? Does he hear you? Maybe you should really knock again just to be sure. "Y/N," the elf greets you with a slight bow of his head. His impossible blonde hair falls over his shoulder. "Hey," you reply. Without your notice, your smile becomes genuine. The nerves relax in your body. "I hope I'm not too soon." "You are just in time," he says. "Come in."

His room is much bigger than yours with a similar style. The bed is huge, with soft blankets and pillows. One of the nightstands is full of books and papers. A mirror stands next to the door with a beautifully crafted wooden frame. "I thought we could have dinner on the balcony," Thranduil says after a few moments, giving you enough time to look around to your heart's content. While you are busy getting familiar with his space, he watches you the whole time. Your hand touches one of his books on his desk. Your finger smooths over the title. Your hair is tied in braids, and the silver embroidery on your dress glints in the light as you move. The long skirt highlights your height, and the leather belt adores your waist perfectly. "We will eat outside?" You ask, turning your attention to the balcony. "Oh, Thranduil," you gasp. "It's beautiful." "It is," he hums in agreement. You don't notice his gaze on you. "Shall we?" He asks, putting his large hand on the small of your back to lead you to your seat.

The balcony is just wide enough to give enough space for a small table and two chairs. Lush, green leaves run all over the wooden railing and the tall, slim columns, framing the view of the woods that are covered in an orange hue by the slowly disappearing sun behind the trees. "Thranduil, this is truly beautiful," you break the silence. Your eyes still scan the view with awe as you sit down. "I don't even know why you don't spend your every time here," you add jokingly. "I can't rule from a balcony," he smiles, sitting down in front of you. "It would be worth a try."

"And you asked for my favorite," you gasp again, looking down at your plate. "What is the occasion?" "It's… I-" "And it's delicious!" You groan between two bites. Thranduil opens his lips to say something but decides against it and smiles. "I'm glad you like it."

"And where is Legolas?" You ask him after a while, looking back into his room. "He won't be mad because we eat without him, right?" Thranduil's usually hard expression softens at your worry. "No," he says. "I told him it will be just the two of us because-" "Where is he? He came back from the woods already, right? It's getting darker." The elven king's teeth clench for a second. His chest swells with the words he can't say out loud. With a deep breath, he nods to chase away your worries. "He is in his room."

"So," the elf starts again after a while. "I asked you to spend dinner with me because-" "It's not your wine, is it?" You suddenly ask him. "It too… spicy." "I asked for the dwarves," he replies. His voice is tense. He really doesn't want to talk about the dwarves right now. "I know how much you like it." "It's really sweet of you, Thranduil," you smile at him. "I-" "Can we not talk about them?" He snaps, making you freeze with your glass in midair. Your eyes widen at the sudden change in his mood. "Sure," you murmur. "I'm sorry, I-" It seems like it's his turn not to let you finish your sentences. A heavy sigh leaves his lips as he closes his eyes for a second. Even though you are familiar with his moods, he doesn't want to ruin the night because of his impatience. You deserve better than him shouting his confession. "Thranduil," you say softly, reaching out for his hand. "Are you alright? Did I do something?" And now, he feels bad. He squeezes your hand in his, lifting it to his lips to kiss your soft skin. "You did nothing wrong, Y/N," he says. His voice is calm and collected. "I apologize for my behavior." "Don't worry about it," you smile at him to make the frown between his thick brows disappear. "I am the one who should apologize. I know I was rude. I just… Everything is so beautiful and… I feel nervous," you confess, biting your bottom lip. "I don't know why."

Silence falls on you for long minutes. None of you say anything as you wait for everything to calm down. Looking back, you feel a bit embarrassed because of your behavior. No matter how much you thought you were calm and relaxed, the small knot in your stomach didn't let you enjoy your night with Thranduil completely. You made a fool out of yourself.

"I just wanted to make this night special for you," Thranduil begins, and this time, you press your lips into a thin line to stop yourself from saying anything. "I'm sorry if I ruined it." You squeeze his hand to argue. He ruined nothing. "I have to tell you something." You nod. He laughs. "What? Now you won't speak?" You grin but say nothing. You just watch the curve of his lips and the brightness of his eyes. Happiness looks really good on him. After another deep breath, he confesses. "I want to ask your permission to court you." Your mouth falls open with shock. "What?" You gasp. That one world is barely louder than a whisper. The knot in your stomach starts to burn with full force. "I really like you, Y/N," he explains. "And if you give me permission, I will…" "Yes!" You snap, then jump on your seat. "I mean… And now I'm rude again. I'm sorry! Please, continue!" Amusement shows on his handsome face instead of frustration. "I will show you how much you mean to me if you let me." "Can I speak now?" You whisper. "Yes," he laughs. "Please, Y/N, talk. I start to miss your voice." "I like you too," you tell him. The words leave your lips with a slight tremble. Nervousness and excitement bubble in your chest. "And I would really like to see where it goes." "Good," he smiles. "You want to go for a walk in the garden? It's not too late for that." "Could we stay here?" You ask him. "I really like the view from here." "Of course, Y/N, whatever you want."

Thranduil only hopes this view becomes a part of your daily life when you move in with him.

#thranduil x reader #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit x reader

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