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fangswbenefits · 4 months

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The Arrangement (11) - First Light

Chapter summary: A much needed discussion takes place and it ends with Astarion coating his daggers with poison.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Mentions of past trauma. Mentions of oral sex. Blood drinking,

Word count: 4.3k

Author's note: I am still unable to reply to comments (I'm waiting for tumblr support to fix this... I read all of the, I promise. You can also send and ask or head to ao3 so I can reply there. Thank you!

Series masterlist

Ao3

Wyll Ravengard was the picture-perfect of integrity.

Well, if you were to exclude his past dealings with the half-devil Mizora. But even then, he had been mostly justified in his assessment of the situation.

So it came as no surprise when you weren't able to find a single trace of judgement on his face.

Only evident concern.

Shadowheart had quickly filled him in on the Waterdeep situation as well as provided him with enough context when it came to Ava.

“Well, this is a… mess,” Wyll eventually drawled out.

Astarion, who was sitting to your right, immediately snickered. “Understatement of the year.”

Shadowheart, who was sitting to you left, promptly quipped, “I wonder whose fault that is.”

He leaned forward to glance at her. “Darling, all that pent-up frustration must–”

You heaved a deep sigh as you nudged him with your elbow, not in the mood to moderate their venomous exchange. “Enough!”

Wyll took a seat across from yours as a Fist stood by his side, hand clasping the handle of his sword in a silent warning.

“You should have told me about your arrangement with Ava,” he said, locking eyes with you. “I know all too well how some propositions are just rotten from the start and doomed to fail.”

Tension and guilt settled in the pit of your stomach.

Not even half an hour ago, you had been able to momentarily push aside the chaos that had been hurled at you in such short notice.

“It seemed like a fair exchange – if her words are to be believed, that is,” you said.

Wyll tensed up. “There is nothing fair about offering your blood to bloodthirsty fiends as an exchange.” He then glanced at Astarion. “No offense.”

He waved a hand dismissively. “None taken, darling.”

But Wyll did have a point even if your arrangement with Astarion was nothing akin to the one with Ava.

Yet…

“Nothing is set in stone. I don't have to go through with any of it.”

From beside you, Shadowheart managed an irritable look. “I cannot be the only one who finds all of this rather convenient. Even if there is someone connected to Cazador after you, why would she withhold that information? Doesn't she need you safe and sound, Astarion?”

“I suppose so, but who's to say? I would need to talk to her,” he said, eyes on Wyll. “I have to talk to her.”

Wyll immediately understood the implication in his words. “Now?”

“Well, obviously not now,” he said indignantly.

The sun was still up and dusk was hours away.

“I don't think that's a good idea,” you intervened, heart racing in your chest. “We need to find out first if there's something that links all of this to Ava.”

“Regardless of that, she still needs to answer for her deranged proposition,” Astarion replied.

Shadowheart scoffed. “You were the one who endangered her in the first place with that bizarre deal.”

He was on his feet faster than you could blink, scowling. “Do not make the idiotic mistake of thinking you are the only one here who cares for her.”

She rose from the sofa, matching his defyance. “Oh, I am sure you care for her – in your own twisted way.”

“Can you two stop it?” you half-shouted, coming to stand in between them before he could retort. “This is pointless!”

They glared at each other in silence for a moment before parting ways, with Astarion sinking down on a chair whilst Shadowheart began pacing around the room, evidently distressed.

“My friends, we need to think critically here,” Wyll spoke again. “Arguing with each other is the last thing we ought to do right now.”

Silence followed as tension dispersed.

“Now, as we wait for Lae'zel and Gale to return, I must ask a few questions, Astarion.”

He crossed his arms. “Oh, this should be fun.”

Wyll ignored his snarky remark, assuming a more serious demeanour. “Why would you resort to her in the first place? Was her promise more solid than the Wish spell?”

“There were no promises made,” he said acidly, a nerve clearly having been struck. “She’s merely experimenting and the prospect seemed too good to pass.”

“So, your blood for a way to lessen your vampiric hunger? That was the deal?”

A cold shiver ran down your spine and you watched as Astarion tensed up slightly.

He had never shared with them just how deep the horrors he endured under Cazador's command truly twisted inside him.

How all of it had taken a toll on his ability to be intimate with someone without feeling tainted.

How it had ultimately driven him into striking a deal with someone like Ava as despair took root.

And it wasn't your place to reveal any of it.

So you merely sat back and observed him in silence.

“It seemed good enough back then,” he said coolly. “Besides, it could also be helpful to the spawn in the Underdark.”

That had Wyll arch an eyebrow. “The spawn?”

“Petras has been sending letters to report back, and – well, let's just say that dealing with 7,000 hungry vampire spawn isn't an easy feat,” he said. “I figured that if her experiment were to be successful, then it'd be beneficial for them as well.”

Oh.

Shadowheart waggled her eyebrows as her feet came to a halt. “So you weren't merely thinking about yourself?”

“Initially, yes. Of course.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course.”

“However, I was the one who doomed them to eternal hunger, so it seemed fitting I'd help.”

“They were doomed either way,” you quickly pointed out. “And it was Cazador's doing.”

His head turned to you. “Be it as it may, their hunger isn't sated for long. I know that all too well.”

Astarion wasn't exactly the epitome of selflessness, but you knew he had come to change some of his ways in the past few weeks after all the events that had unfolded.

And when it came to his own hunger, you figured old habits did die hard.

His eyes then landed on your neck for a moment before looking away.

“I reckon I already know the answer to this, but did you even plan ahead?” Shadowheart said, crossing her arms. “How would you even make this feasible for thousands of spawn with just your own blood? Or were they really just an afterthought?”

Astarion narrowed his eyes. “Ava was handling the … logistics, shall we say. My blood would be the starting point, but not a requirement.”

She scoffed in utter disbelief. “And you took her word for it… blindly. You simply trusted some monster hunter with a blood fetish? This is ridiculous even for you.”

He was definitely a passionate admirer of the ‘laugh now, cry later’ school of thought, which also meant that when the consequences hit… they would hit hard.

“It's not like progress was being made with the Wish spell, sweetheart,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I saw an opportunity and I took it.”

A chill rushed through you like a knife. “Only a few weeks had passed, Astarion. All you had to do was wait–”

And then he snapped. His seemingly calm demeanour finally cracking open and revealing the hurt underneath.

“For centuries, all I did was wait! There were times I wished he would just destroy me once and for all to rid me of the burden of being ‘alive’ under such conditions,” he snarled, rising from the chair as he faced you. “I turned away from all that power I could have – the ritual… everything! I – I just…” His voice faltered and he heaved a sigh, reining back his outrage as his face softened into that expression that just broke you. “Is it such a crime that I want better for myself?”

You shook your head, feeling for him, but… “These things take time. Despair leads to rushed actions.”

He grimaced. “So you'd have me turn to hope?”

“Yes.”

He clicked his tongue. “There's nothing quite as cruel as hope, darling.”

You heard Wyll let out an exasperated sigh from across the room. “Astarion, I will not judge you for the decision you made to mingle with Ava – you had your reasons. But the consequences seem severe enough even if she isn't involved in either of the killings.”

He remained silent.

“It's not just about you anymore. She took an interest in her blood and is now using it as a bargaining chip,” he said. “That is unacceptable.”

“I fully agree with Wyll,” Shadowheart said as she came to sit next to you once again.

“And that is why you'll let me go to her,” Astarion said.

“You're still under house arrest. The Council of Four will–”

“To Hells with them all!” Astarion said through clenched teeth, fangs peeking through. “We're your friends, are we not? And since you're so adamant about my fault in this, allow me to set things right.”

“A good call,” Shadowheart chimed in with a nod.

Wyll seemed taken aback by his words and his frown deepened. “I may have the final word as the Grand Duke, but I cannot consciously go against a collective ruling.”

“The circumstances have changed,” Astarion retorted simply. “I will go to her and you're free to have your Fists point a thousand stakes at me along the way if it eases your mind.”

You could tell Wyll felt torn between duty and reasoning, and you didn't envy him in the slightest.

“You don't understand the consequences of–”

Astarion's face darkened and a devious smile tugged at his lips. “Oh, darling. I do understand. I simply do not care.”

Wyll took a deep breath, clearly realising he was fighting a losing battle.

He turned to face the Fist by his side. “Send word to the Council.”

The tall and broad man nodded before exiting through the front door.

“You can't be serious,” Astarion scoffed. “You should have kept this between us. They don't have to know.”

But Wyll merely shook his head. “We can do things your way and my way.”

Astarion pinched the bridge of his nose with a groan.

“I'm coming with you,” you said, fully determined..

Shadowheart immediately gripped your arm firmly. “No.”

Wyll rose from his seat. “He shall not go alone, but you don't need to get more involved in this than you already are.”

Astarion turned to face you and raised one hand. “Absolutely not. You stay.”

That made your blood boil almost instantly and a flash of anger crossed your face. “I can fend for myself. Just let me–”

But your words were muffled by a deafening swirling and pulsing sound that came from outside.

In no time, the door was slammed open as a visibly irritated Lae'zel stormed inside.

“Tsk'va! Mages and their nauseating portals,” she grumbled before closing the door shut and plunging the room in candlelight once again. “Almost spilled the contents of my stomach. Twice.”

Both you and Shadowheart flocked to her side and you spoke first, “Are you alright? Where’s Gale?”

She nodded dismissively, placing her esteemed greatsword on the long table. “He stayed behind to converse with a few of his acquaintances, trying to make sense of what happened.”

“Well? What happened, then?” Astarion asked as he approached the three with you with Wyll right behind him.

“The man succumbed to a multitude of slashing wounds.”

Your eyes widened as you gasped.

“Slashing wounds? Was it an animal? A monster?” Wyll immediately pressed.

“We do not know. It was a rather brutal sight even for someone like me,” Lae'zel said with a frown.

A shiver spread across your body and you felt nauseous all of a sudden.

“Was there anything odd about it?” Shadowheart asked.

“Because a man being brutally shredded to pieces isn't odd enough?” Astarion said with a scoff.

She ignored him. “Were there traces of necrotic magic?”

Lae'zel arched a brow. “No. What's with this interrogation?”

Shadowheart was definitely trying to find a common element between the two deaths… and Ava.

And it seemed that there was nothing there.

Yet.

“We are trying to figure out if Ava could have had a hand in this.”

Lae'zel didn't budge. “Who?”

“Ava.”

Lae'zel turned to Astarion. “Your hairdresser?”

This time, Shadowheart clicked her tongue impatiently, hands on her hips. “Astarion struck a deal with some monster hunter turned blood merchant and got her involved.” She extended one arm to at you. “This Ava woman now wants her blood for whatever nefarious reason and might also be the one to blame for the death that led to them getting arrest and – quite possibly – the one from today.”

Your eyes widened, quite astonished that she was able to spill all that information in one swift breath.

If the circumstances weren't quite so dire, you would also have chuckled from how she sounded like a child who was telling her strict parent on her misbehaving sibling.

Astarion was obviously offended. “Conveniently leaving out the part where I am entitled to mingling with whomever I want, and that I was completely oblivious to Ava's finding and her proposal.”

Lae'zel glanced at you. “What proposal?”

“It's fine. Don't worry. I won't go through with any of it,” you said reassuringly, placing your hand on her wrist, knowing fully well she was itching to swing her sword on him. “This is all one big mess, but he truly didn't know.”

Shadowheart growled. “You do not have to keep defending him!”

Wyll spoke before you could. “Shadowheart. I understand your indignation, but we need to move on from the constant pointless bickering. What is done is done.”

Astarion clapped thrice. “Ah! The voice of reason!”

She threw him a death glare before crossing her arms and tapping her foot irritably on the floor, but not uttering another word.

Lae'zel, on the other hand, had her narrowed eyes set on Astarion. “You are fortunate she adores that pretty head attached to your body.”

“Was that a compliment, Lae'zel?” he taunted.

“Your ability to turn any remark into an opportunity to feed your ego is truly astounding, Astarion.”

He smirked happily in response. “I do my best – or worst, depending on your taste.”

“Enough of this,” you interjected as you stared at Lae'zel. “When is Gale returning?”

She shrugged. “Unclear. He is also trying to find another contact who might help out with the Wish spell.”

“No.”

All heads turned to Astarion.

His brows knitted together. “No. No one else is getting involved until we figure out what is happening.”

Your eyes met his in mingled surprise and confusion.

Even Shadowheart was stunned silent as her face softened.

“I thought you wanted this more than anything,” Wyll asked.

“Well, yes. But not when people are turning up dead all around me.”

Lae'zel frowned. “So, all of this for nothing? Had a sudden change of heart about your inability to walk in the sun again?”

He rolled his eyes. “Heavens forbid I'm the one pointing the moral compass in the right direction. Don't act so surprised, darling. I still know what I want and what I need to do.”

You closed the distance between you and him, worry brewing in your heart.

“Astarion, the Wish spell isn't easy to come by. It's not easy to find someone willing to teach it and Gale is a powerful wizard and strong candidate,” you said, trying to reason with him as you placed a hand on his arm. “I understand your reluctance, but we might have to wait even longer if this opportunity is disregarded.”

He didn't even flinch. “This is ultimately my choice, and I choose to wait. I've had it with others dictating how I should feel and act. This is the sensible thing to do.”

For centuries, he had belonged to everyone – to anyone – but himself.

Both in body and mind.

So, if this was what he truly thought was best for him, who were you to deny him of it? Maybe you would have chosen differently, but this wasn't truly about you, was it?

He would tell you otherwise, of course. That you had been the stepping stone to his healing process since the nautiloid crash, but you couldn't and wouldn't take full credit for it.

This was a joint effort and you would empower him all the way through.

“I stand with you,” you said eventually said, breaking the silence.

He gradually relaxed under your touch.

Shadowheart spoke next, “I respect your decision, Astarion. We need to see if there is a link between the two deaths. I can go ahead through the portal and ask Gale to return.”

He nodded.

“Very well,” she said with a curt smile.

Wyll approached the door. “I will inform the guards to accompany you once dusk hits, Astarion.”

He nodded again. “Thank you.”

Lae'zel then cursed and left the room with a loud bang behind her as the door closed shut.

Your hand came to his shoulder and his crimson eyes were on you again. “Let me come with you.”

“No.”

You scowled. “I'm not some frail sorcerer. I can stand by your side and help.”

This time, he chuckled. “Sweetheart, you are more capable than most of us combined here. My reluctance doesn't stem from my lack of faith in your abilities,” he said, voice firm and collected. “If anything were to happen to you because of me, I'd never forgive myself. Allow me to handle this.”

Your heart was hammering fast in your chest from his words, and even though you wanted to argue with his decision, you held your tongue back.

In truth, you were mostly scared Ava would have something up her sleeve and hurt him. That was what was eating at your nerves.

But still, you nodded

It was settled then.

You made your way down the corridor, coming to a halt as the faint glow spilled from inside his room.

The door was open for a change.

A comforting smile curled your lips, knowing you'd find him inside.

As you approached the doorway, you spotted Astarion across the room, flicking through a few pieces of cloth placed on the round table.

You knocked twice on the wood “May I?”

He nodded. “It's your house.”

“Well, it's your room,” you retorted. “For now, at least,” you quickly added, not wanting to seem overbearing. After all, he wasn't ultimately here on his own volition.

“You don't have to keep asking,” he said with a faint smile.

Your eyes landed on his bed as you walked in, causing your heart to skip a beat.

A few hours ago, the two of you had been lost in each other's pleasure on that very same spot. Now, the bedclothes had been laid sprawled across it, no creases or any remaining proof of your earlier endeavour.

The two of you had been robbed of after care and a much needed talk about what had happened.

Even if he had seemed quite content during and after all of it, you found yourself always hung on the fear that you had rushed through it all.

So, you needed the affirmation. You needed to hear his thoughts on it and to ensure no boundaries had been crossed.

You approached the table and your gaze roamed cross the clear vials that he had placed by his twin daggers.

Odourless.

Colourless.

Poison.

“Lethal?”

He dabbed a selected piece of cloth on the clear liquid. “No.”

An uneasy feeling began to take root. “Do you think she'll try to hurt you?”

“It would be rather foolish of her,” he mused, dragging the damp fabric along each blade, coating them in a fine layer of poison. “But I've been wrong before about people, so – as they say – better safe than sorry.”

It wasn’t the reassurance you were seeking, but Astarion was more than capable when it came to self-defence.

“Besides, she needs me more than I need her,” he concluded, inspecting the glinting blade close to his eyes. “And if she fails to provide satisfactory answers, the Fists will deal with her.”

You nodded, but still failing to push your fear aside. “What if there is really someone after us? What if she's not connected to any of this?”

You had purposefully let out the faint implication that maybe there was a connection to Cazador. He didn't need to be troubled with that in case Ava was bluffing.

Astarion sheathed both daggers on either side of his waist before his eyes landed on you. “If that is the case, then she will tell me who it is. And she better have a godsdamned good justification for why she thought I would allow you to be involved.”

You absentmindedly bit your lip and he smiled warmly, coming to stand in front of you, wiping his hands clean from any trace of poison.

Silently, he leaned to press a lingering kiss on your forehead, his cool lips making you flinch slightly.

It was as if a surge of lightning had been cast throughout your body, setting you alight.

“About earlier…” you said, swallowing your nervousness.

He traced your jawline with his thumb before tipping your head back so you could properly meet his gaze.

“Darling, already back for another round?”

You broke into laughter. “No! No… that wasn't what I trying to say.”

He tapped your nose lovingly and it was as if the two of you were long-time lovers, used to each other's teases and mannerisms.

Your heart skipped yet another beat.

“I know. Just couldn't miss the opportunity to have you all flustered for me again,” he said with a devious grin. “But do go on.”

“I just want to make sure… it was alright… what we did, I mean,” you said in a whisper.

Astarion's brows furrowed together. “I thought that was pretty much evident…”

A lump swelled in your throat.

You truly didn't want to overstep any lines.

But you had to know. You had to hear it.

“I am talking about… up here,” you said, pressing a finger softly to his temple. “I… just want to make sure you're truly fine. That we're truly fine.”

You held your breath for a moment, dreading a worrisome reply.

He caught hold of your hand and pressed your finger to his lips. “I will always tell you if it's too much.”

A wave of relief washed over you and you allowed yourself to breathe normally.

Still…

You swallowed again. “Promise?”

“I promise, sweetheart,” he said, using your own finger to tap the tip of your nose, earning a heartfelt giggle from you.

“So… it wasn't too much?”

“No,” he said truthfully.

You nodded as he gripped your chin. “How did it feel?”

He paused for a while, pondering. “It felt… right.”

Your stomach turned and your heart sped up from how close he was to you.

How close he felt to you.

“I want to kiss you,” he said all of a sudden. “May I?”

You felt as though you would melt into a puddle from how desperate he sounded.

“You don't have to always ask,” you said truthfully.

He then pressed his cool lips to the corner of your mouth and you instinctively gasped. “I just adore the sound of your voice when you let me in.”

His lips moved to the opposite side, lingering there, and a rush of heat pooled in your cheeks.

“May I kiss you, darling?” he asked once more, pulling back just enough for his lips to barely touch yours. “May I taste you?”

Gods…

“Please do.”

He didn't need to be told twice.

The kiss started off slow at first as his lips molded into yours. But as soon as you made way for his tongue to slide inside, Astarion became the image of hunger.

He cradled your face in his hands and pressed both thumbs on your chin, so you'd open up wider for him.

A flash of memory filled your mind and you recalled how he used to do the same whenever you were on your knees, struggling to fit his thick cock in your mouth.

“You can take more of me, can't you, my sweet?” he'd say, voice dripping with lust.

You'd always struggle at first. Always. But he was such a caring lover and he would always ensure you took your time.

You quickly shuddered as your clit began throbbing evenly.

His tongue was as relentless against yours as his cock had once been, but his eagerness and hunger had his razor-like fang nip at your lower lip, drawing blood.

“Shit,” you groaned from the sharp sting.

Astarion immediately pulled back and you stared at him in confusion.

You felt a few drops dribbling down your chin.

Why wasn't he tasting you?

His eyes were fixed on your lips and his eyes narrowed with bloodlust.

“You're letting it go to waste?” you asked, swiping your finger across the bleeding wound.

He swallowed with a strained smile.

Oh, he was struggling to hold back…

“Well, darling… I don't intend on leaving the house with my cock hard with your blood.”

You clenched so hard you felt a gush of wetness being squeezed out.

But there was only so much Astarion could withstand, so you couldn't fight the moan that tore through your throat as he placed the softest kiss to your lip.

“Just before I go,” he whispered. “So I can take you with me.”

You clenched again and you could feel your clit swell up with each throb.

He eventually parted from you, licking his blood-stained lips as his eyes held that lustful gaze you adored.

“I'll be back soon.”

You were left petrified in place as he swiftly made his way out.

It wasn’t fair how soaked you were.

How soaked he had left you.

You glanced over your shoulder and realised the door had been left open all along and you rushed to the window, tugging on the curtain.

The sun had set as he appeared down below, followed closely by two Fists.

And the single mage slayer.

The three of them trailed after his steps and darted off into the distance.

And you realised that without a mage slayer around to keep your magic at bay, you could simply vanish.

You glanced at the vials of poison on the nearby table and smiled.

TBC

Series masterlist

Ao3

#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion x female tav #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x female reader #astarion x you #astarion x f!tav #astarion x f!reader #the arrangement #astarion smut

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bluecollarmcandtf · 1 month

Text

The New Garbageman

Lance slowed from his run and glanced at the trash compactor sitting outside his apartment complex. He needed to catch his breath, but he hated being so close. The young man gave a disdainful look to the laborer who seemed wholly unbothered by his choice in career. 'Some men are just meant for menial crap like this,' he thought to himself, 'God knows I wouldn't be caught dead doing it.'

The jogger looked straight ahead as he passed, not wanting to make eye contact with the sucker lugging away a week's worth of his building's refuge. Lance thought the smell alone was enough to make him gag, but he was even more disturbed by the garbageman's indifference to the squishy contents leaking all over his clothes.

'At what point is that worker just considered trash himself?' Lance pondered with a grimace.

Just as he was about to escape into the entrance of the complex, a sharp ripping noise sounded behind him, followed by a clamour of things crashing to the ground.

Lance made the mistake of looking back, seeing a huge mess scattered across the sidewalk. It looked like a garbage can had exploded and now there was rotten food and crumpled papers everywhere, but that damn sanitation worker had vanished!

"The hell!" Lance shouted in anger, but his rage didn't last long.

A sudden pain stabbed him in the back and he crumpled to the ground like all the garbage had moments before. Everything went black...

Lance shook off the daze and found himself leaning against one of the garbage bins. The pain in his back didn't feel as acute anymore. All he could feel was an unusual warmth spreading from where he had been stung.

"Where is that goddamn garbage man," he growled, wincing at the litter surrounding him. He was ready to give that idiot a piece of his mind.

He put his hand on the concrete in an attempt to get himself up, but was surprised by the feeling of gloves over his fingers. Lance stared at his gloved palms with total confusion. He was sure as hell that he didn't put those old worn things on!

Then he noticed his shoes. They weren't the sneakers he'd been jogging in moments before. They were some kind of work boots!

"What the hell!" he exclaimed, wondering if he'd actually been knocked out and robbed.

Lance pushed his fears aside and began climbing to his feet, but as he did, he noticed something had appeared over his shoulders!

"Where'd this come from?" he cried, becoming more and more angry as articles of clothing just kept appearing on his body.

He was positive this dirty old jacket didn't belong to him. It was covered with stains and reeked like a public bathroom. Lance had a habit of always keeping his clothes freshly laundered and fragranced. He wouldn't even wear jeans two days in a row without washing them, so what was this raggedy work jacket doing in his back?

Lance frantically started to pull the thing off, but it seemed stuck on his waistband or something. No amount of thrashing could get him to pull the thing over his head!

He moaned in frustration and threw his fists down angrily. Then, he noticed why the jacket wouldn't come off. It took him a second to realize what he was looking at. The jacket was attached to the new pants he had on!

Lance shouted out in a state of confused panic. "Help!" he cried, not knowing what else to do, but even if someone did come over, what would he tell them? They'd never believe that his clothes were magically being replaced!

He couldn't even bring himself to look down at what he was wearing. Gone were his running shorts and tank top. In their place, a gross old jumpsuit had enveloped his body. Lance was struck by the itchiness of the course material, but he was even more horrified by how damp it felt against his skin. He didn't want to know what liquid those coveralls were saturated with; oil, sweat, or something even worse?

Lance couldn't find his phone in any of his new attire's pockets. He didn't know what was going on, but he was about to start screaming if he didn't find out soon. His breathing intensified while his heart raced out of his chest. He could feel the panic attack coming.

Then all of a sudden, he stopped...

That warm feeling in his back had washed over his entire body and told every tense muscle to relax. Lance's heart rate eased and his breathing slowed. The confusion, worry, and panic in his face was gone: a numb expression sat in its place.

Lance didn't understand why he had suddenly become so calm. Internally, he was still disgusted, horrified, and outraged, but he couldn't deny how relaxed his body had became.

Finally able to gain his bearing, the former jogger climbed up from the ground and gave his new outfit another look.

"What the hell is this thing," he wondered, but his voice had a comparatively lifeless tone.

Lance studied the clothing. The boots were caked with dirt and grime. He could feel his feet sweating inside them. In fact, his entire body felt like it was being cooked. He was completely covered from the neck down with some pretty heavy duty work wear. It was all clothing he would never be caught dead in, yet it looked kind of familiar.

Suddenly it, clicked.

"I'm dressed a goddamn garbage man," Lance spoke again with a monotoned voice.

Then his mouth moved on its own, "I am a garbage man."

The words chilled him to the core. He had not meant to say them! That warm feeling that started in his back had moved to his throat and taken over.

Before he knew it, his hands were moving on their own too. They were picking up the trash littered around him! His legs moved to, crawling his body across the concrete, and Lance couldn't do anything to stop himself.

His mouth wouldn't open when he tried! He wanted to scream! His arms and legs weren't doing what he wanted either. He was trapped in his own body! Lance couldn't speak; he couldn't run; he couldn't hide; he couldn't even panic. His own heart beat at a steady pace like he was the calmest man in the world! His lungs systematically drew in breath after calm breath, and his face was locked in an empty look of indifference...

Lance would have to get used to being around the trash. He was a garbageman now...

One Year Later...

Lance had never imagined he'd be trapped as a garbage collector for this long. His body hadn't let him look back once since he walked away from his old life. Who knows what happened to his apartment and family. He'd long since given up on the idea of ever going back to his old life.

His days were now spent being puppettered to take out other people's trash. It was disgusting hard work that he got no thanks for, but that didn't matter. He wasn't in control of his body, and his body just kept lugging rank bags of garbage day after day after day.

He'd been subjected to millions of dirty looks as people caught sight of him. Lance knew he must seem pathetic. He was sure he smelled even worse. How could anyone respect a man like him? Even after a year, his face still burnt red when someone looked grossed out by him.

The discomfort of his uniform has become normal to Lance. It was itchy and humid under there, which made sense since it hadn't been washed in the all the time he'd had it on.

Well, that wasn't entirely true...

Every night after work, his body would hop on the garbage truck and get dropped off at the sanitation department's parking garage. There he and the rest of the garbage crew would hose each other down. It didn't do much other than make him cold, but at least he got that.

After the makeshift shower, he and the rest of the guys would file into the garage. Lance assumed that every one of the laborers were being used as puppets like him, because they appeared just as numb and lifeless as he did. There was no chummy chitchat; there were no friendly waves or claps on the back; hell there wasn't even a smile or frown on any of their faces.

All the garbagemen acted like robotic slaves for unpaid labor, which is exactly what they were.

Lance's theory was that when he'd felt that pain a year ago, he'd had some sort of Syfy-futuritic-techno crap inserted in his back. It had to be controlling his actions. He could feel it on his spine, sending signals to the resto for his body for how to behave.

It was just a theory. He couldn't prove or disprove anything when he had no autonomy over his own body.

So he was stuck seeing himself play out the same awful routine everyday. 'At least the day's almost over,' he thought to himself. At least he could still dream of a life where he didn't wear this disgusting uniform and pick up garbage all day.

Lance's body joined the rest of the men on the floor. This was where they spent their nights. Whoever was controlling them was clearly too cheap to buy them beds let alone showers or laundry machines

It usually got pretty bleak in there: a whole room of men that aren't allowed to talk or interact outside of working together. There was nothing else to do but sleep, so Lance slid down to the concrete and closed his eyes, wondering if he would ever be anything other than a smelly garbageman ever again.

He thought back to his old life, dreaming about that last morning run he'd gotten before all this happened. He fantasized about what would have happened if he'd just ran around the block one more time.

Would he have avoided this fate or was he just destined for menial crap like this?

Thanks for the Ask, workgearfan

#mind control #blue collar #gay mind control #humiliated slave #meat puppets

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darkbluekies · 3 months

Note

This is going to be interesting fr, like how much differently do your ocs treat the reader if they were childhood friends. I’m super excited! Also can’t wait to see Jerry again ❤️

Warnings: violence, murder, unstable home life, bullying

Silas:

Being Silas's childhood friend guarantees you a bodyguard. He doesn't let anyone get close to you. You don't ever have to worry about the fact that anyone will bully you, because Silas will obliviate them. He's the type to let you lean on his shoulder in class whenever you feel tired. He will ditch school with you and go to the zoo if you want to.

People around you will try to separate the two of you. “Silas isn't a good influence”, they say, and doesn't want his behavioral problems to rub off on you, or for you to get in danger. There are speculations that Silas is involved in criminal gangs — and if someone asks you, you won't deny it. But Silas won't let anyone take you from him, won't let anyone touch you. You always have his arm wrapped around your waist or shoulders, always claimed by him.

“I'm going to bash that kid's skull in, I'm not fucking joking. If they dare to to touch you — no — if he as much as breathe near you, I'll send them to the nurses office. Lean your head on me, Y/N, its okay. Does your hand still hurt? I cant believe that he fucking stepped on it. It doesn't matter if it was a mistake. I'll cut his off.”

Dr Kry:

There is something off about him, and everyone can see that. He sits back straight, hands together, and always in clean, ironed clothes. His hair is always brushed and fixed, he hates germs and people. And he hates it all, he really does. The only friend he has, is you. The only one he doesn't think is dirty, is you. You know that the reason he sits and talks like a robot is because of how strict his parents are. There has been multiple times where he has dirtied his clothes while playing with you, and has panicked. You help him clean them before going home, and when touching him you make sure to wipe your hands with a cloth — even if you know that he doesn't mind your germs. You know how he doesn't like to be touched, so you never hug him or linger on too long, which is just why Kry likes you so much.

You are the only one who knows about his author's dreams. His parents want him to become a doctor, or a lawyer, and you know he's interested in medicine, but he wants to be able to write. He wants to write sci-fi stories, and you are the only one that knows it.

You get teased by others for being with the “clean freak” but it doesn't bother you. However, it does bother Kry. After someone has been mean to you, they always end up in the hospital, one way or another. You can't help but wonder if it's your shy, sweet friend who's behind it.

“I like having picnics with you. Oh, you forgot the other fork? No, don't apologize, I understand that it was a mistake. We can share a fork, I'm okay. Yes, it's fine, I don't mind … you're so nice, wiping the fork for me, you don't have to do that ...”

King Edmund:

If you are Edmund’s friend while he's the crown prince, you need a lot of patience. He is spoiled rotten, entitled and unpleasant to be around. Everything is on his terms. But that doesn't mean that he doesn't value you. He is locked in his room day in and day out with a private tutor, completely isolated from everyone else. He will throw fits and threaten not to do his classes, unless he is allowed to play with you. So, they bring you to the castle where you get to live from now on.

Edmund absolutely loves to spend time with you. You ride horses together, torment the staff, play pranks and read. When he can't sleep, he walks into your room and crawls under the sheets.

You're with him when his parents are murdered. Edmund's first instinct when the castle is attacked is to run to your room, wake you up and hide the two of you. He is equipped with a sword and will protect you to the last moments.

Although the two of you are isolated, there are people in the staff making fun of you, or talking bad. Edmund doesn't even hide the fact that he orders for their deaths.

“I fucking hate classes, and I hate that tutor. It's so boring. I wish you could take the classes with me, it'd be so much more fun. After class, can't we do something? Can't we go down to the fountain and read? I want you to read for me. You're the only one that reads the story right, that does them justice. Everyone else sounds like fucking donkeys.”

Jerry:

Jerry goes to an all girls school in South Korea. You don't go to the same school — which is probably for the best. Jerry is the leader of her little gang, and they are notorious for their bullying. She is a bully for fun, but won't allow any of her friends to make fun of you. If they do, she will ruin their lives. You do know about her life outside the school though, you have been with her when she steals from stores (often makeup stores). You often meet her after school and go to the mall or amusement parks together. She's a very sweet person to be around when it's just the two of you.

You're friends with her before she starts to call herself ‘Jerry’ — when she's still ‘Yubin’. She had seen the name in a TV series and liked the character. She says that she is going to move to the US, and then she wanted an english name.

You're often with Jerry's friend group on weekend nights, often strolling around the town with alcohol and cigarettes, sometimes breaking stuff. Jerry makes sure that if they're ever caught, her and you slip away. She finds it all extremely exciting.

Jerry escapes to you when she gets to know that her parents (and perhaps sister if i want to give her one) have been murdered by a rival, when she has involved herself in criminal activities for real. It's the first time you get to see Jerry break down. She's in your arms, crying heavily, admitting how scared she is and how much she misses her parents. She loves her family, and now there is nothing left of it. She says that she died that day, and that whoever is inhabiting her body now is a fraction of who she once was.

“You're such a fresh wind from that fucking girl school. Why do I have to go there? Why am I not allowed to join a coed school? What? Why my nails have blood under them? No, I didn't get into a fight again. I didn't. I promise. Get up, let's go get sushi, I'm starving.”

Hedwig:

If you're a childhood friend of Hedwig, you're basically a family member. You go on her family's expensive vacations, just because Hedwig doesn't want to be alone.

You play every day and go through all stages of life together. Hedwig has always been the sweetest human you've ever known, and it surprises you when you see her angry. The many, many years you've been friends, you've only seen her angry a handful of times. You go to summer camps together, share beds, share everything. Teachers ask for the other when one is gone (which is rare).

Being childhood friends with Hedwig would most likely end in romance at one time, so she would win without having to do anything harsh. But if you started developing crushes other than Hedwig before, she would ruin their reputation until you wouldn't want to look at them anymore, but no one would know that it was Hedwig.

Hedwig has always been very popular, both for her money and looks, and by default, you've been too because you're her best friend. Hedwig likes to see how nice everyone is to you, because they know better than to upset you. No one wants to get out of the magical bubble that is Hedwig’s popularity.

“We will be friends forever, won't we? I don't think I could live without you, Y/N. You're the other half of my soul. If I don't have you nearby, I can't breathe.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere oc x you #yandere mafia #yandere oc x reader #yandere doctor #yandere female #yandere imagine #yandere headcanon

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pupcuck · 3 months

Text

SCHADENFREUDE !

ft. leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. p in v, kidnapper/victim relationship, stockholm syndrome, he puts u in the trunk of his car :3, sorta painal, squirting, slapping/hitting a lot.. of it, not non-con or dub-con but he keeps calling it that idk, painful sex, suicide mention cuz it’s leonnnn, sadism

note. haiii a follow up to rotten luck title has nothing to do w the fic i think :3 his character changes like every 5 mins im sorry .. readers character changed a lot too omg just blame it on stockholm! umm sorry for any mistakes please ignore them :3 rbs and feedback so appreciated :3

rotten luck

tumblr removes fics that use, for example, tw non-con and any nsfw tags in general from the tags. for this reason, as i’d like my fic to appear in the tags, please understand that this fic contains dark content under the cut. reading this comes at your own risk.

“What’re you doing?” With a foot in the door, Leon spots you hunched over the mantlepiece.

You jump like you do when he makes a noise over thirty decibels. Luckily, you’re housebroken now, just about, so there’s no piss. Or tears. He has no desire to deal with tears. Or piss or any fluid for that matter. Leon has bad days, and then he has worse days, then there are awful days– It’s only a bad day, but that doesn’t mean he wants to spend his time forcing your head into a puddle of your own piss. Fundamentally, piss is not his concern, he’s potty-trained and has been for a good thirty-four years. He’d like to think a good forty-three years, but he was a criminal bedwetter up until the ripe age of twelve. Foster system does that to you. You make the piss Leon’s concern when you do it on his floor–

“What’re you doing?” Leon asks once more when he wrenches himself away from his piss tangent. He decides to let you off for not answering the first time ‘cause he’s generous like that. Quietly, as everything you do is scarce and ghostlike, you point at the printed photos on his mantle with great interest. There’s three because Leon only really gives a shit about three people. They shouldn’t be out in the open like that. Leon doesn’t remember leaving them out, so he’d like to blame you, but maybe this is a sign of early-onset dementia.

“Who’s she?” You nod to Ashley first, pressed to his side so tightly, so lovingly, so sure that he loves her bombardment. Her affection, whatever it is that she insists it is. He thinks back to tearing her from the clutches of emaciated beings and wonders how he can stand here so normally. As if nothing ever happened. Ashley’s name is the one in the back of his throat, shattered and bloody like glass in a domestic dispute. Then again, he is face to face with his kidnapping victim and all. So it’s not very normal when he looks at the bigger picture. Far from normal, abnormal at the very least. Fucking deranged might be the right term.

“My ex,” Leon lies to see the look of disdain that crosses your face, the unpleasant curl of your lips that irons out when he pets your head. Whether it be for him or Ashley, he wouldn’t like to know. “Joking, baby, I saved her,” Leon settles on saved because there is no other way to explain it, and because he would love for you to know that they’re not his other kidnapping victims and that you’re his one and only kidnappee and he might be impulsive, but he’s not stupid enough to take pictures of and with kidnapped girls. Well, Ashley was a kidnapped girl, not his kidnapped girl, however.

Leon is very feminist, rescuing slender-ankled maidens is his speciality, you’re just an outlier. “I saved her,” he says when you nod at Manuela next, and then for Sherry, he pauses, “I saved her.” Sherry’s face goads him into cowardice, blowing his brains out is difficult when she’s sitting on his shoulder at all times like a Vatican cherub, covalently bonded to his heart or his soul. Whichever matters after you die. “You want a picture too, baby? Autograph?” He kisses your kidnapped little fingers with the guilt of a man who has been pointlessly guilty all his life - now literally guilty by CJS standards for the four months you’ve been captive.

You smile at him, and consequently his drops. “I’m good,” you say, smiling your real smile. It upsets him. “I’ve got the real thing.” When you talk too much he remembers that you’re not a toy or a plaything or anything of the sort. That you’re a real girl.

Sometimes Leon has these moments of startling clarity. You kidnapped a girl ‘cause mommy didn’t love you enough, but daddy hit you hard enough to knock the functioning parts of your brain out of place. You kidnapped a girl ‘cause you got touched back in boot camp, ‘cause you’ve seen a couple hundred people die.

At this point, he simply can’t move on, but he can give up. Every night the gun under his pillow digs into the hollows of his skull. It’s just that Leon can’t leave you, his lucky little girl, he feels responsible for the state you’re in. Stockholm and all. That wasn’t his intention, he’d rather you be dead out of sheer terror, your frail little heart would give out mid Leon’s fucked up chimaera that is part nasty, hot sex and part brutal beating and the most he would have to do is bury your bones in his backyard.

Pretend you never existed. Your name fades into obscurity like every other name does. Your face is just another face. And no one truly cares in the end. America’s love is limited, its affections will go elsewhere, to a prettier kidnapped girl in California or a younger one in Maine. The police will pass you off as a runaway soon enough, and no one would ever have to mourn a bodiless casket. What a mess. Leon didn’t mean to be so charming, didn’t mean to make you fall for him, he didn’t know girls these days were so into getting raped on the daily. Now he’s facing the repercussions of his sex appeal. God forbid he exists in sexy peace.

You gotta make everything his problem, don’t you? Lucky little thing. Leon wonders if you’ve ever had to do anything for yourself. Wonders, ponders, thinks, but he won’t pry. ‘Cause it makes him feel, like, really fucking sucky. That he plucked you out of your perfect little life ‘cause his life is the shittiest little life in this piece of shit world.

He struggles to even utter your name– Your name, god, he bets it was picked out so delicately, so carefully– And that pisses Leon off ‘cause his dad named Leon after his favourite hooker, remove the A from Leona and there you have it! Italian enough for his ma too, hit a perfect sweet spot. Now he’s upset, the perennial guilt has wilted and he’s just fucking exasperated by you. By your luck. By your shamelessness. What twisted little bitch sits there and gloats about having the real thing in reference to her kidnapper. In actuality, it’s Leon that has the real thing.

Leon knocks you down like you’re made of styrofoam. That little yelp never gets old. You see, he’s been struck by this awful migraine and he wants you to feel the same. You should ache like he does, but you don’t ‘cause you’re young and healthy and he makes you go to bed at an appropriate time ‘cause it’s his duty as your kidnapper to make sure you don’t die out of neglect - death via beating is fine and understandable.

You sit at his feet so sweetly, a stray dog that’s wandered into the shrine of a lonely god, curling up at the foot of a wooden statuette to seek some form of solace. Unfortunately for you, Leon is no god, just a normal man with a heart and a soul and a dick that thinks for itself. He does what any man with a dumb dick would do - grabs you by the ankle and lugs you towards the bedroom like a deer carcass. It’s slightly comical, and he knows that ‘cause he hears you giggle a little.

“Rape is nothin’ to laugh about, sweetheart,” Leon says ‘cause that’s the plan, he drops you down on the bed with a thunk. Is it even rape when the other party, a very much kidnapped party, is enjoying it? Truly, you suck the joy out of his life.

“Sorry, Leon,” you go slack and stupid the second he gropes your tit, he’s not one for foreplay, it bores him most days. He’ll eat your pussy ‘cause he likes the taste, but he’s old and his cock is on its last legs and the moment his shit jumps to life it’s best to get it in ASAP.

“It’s okay, baby,” Leon lifts the hem of your shirt, “I know you’re really fuckin’ stupid, so don’t worry ‘bout it, yeah?” God, he’s way too nice. He pulls the shirt over your head and you’re left bare.

“Thank you, Leon,” You’re well-mannered, he’ll give you that, polite little thing, it's terribly endearing, has the walls of his gristly heart caving in.

“You’re very welcome, baby,” he hums, unzipping his jeans to get his dick out before it ultimately droops. Your cunt is sopping, takes to his fingers easily, he curls them upwards to hear those slick clicks. “Spread ‘em.” Leon taps your thigh, and you bend your knees outwards, a foot flat on the bed. It’s nice that you’re wet for him and all, does wonders for his ego, but loose holes are no fun.

“Not there,” you’re so cute when you whine, would look so cute stuffed in the trunk of his car, god. He’d even put a pillow between your thighs to give that cunt some friction. Keep you entertained while he drives aimlessly.

“Baby, you should know better,” Leon chides, spreads your ass and eyes up your tighter hole. “Didn’t ask you, did I?”

“Nuh-uh, Leon.” Comes your automated response.

“What did I tell you?”

“Don’t speak unless spoken to,” you relay the words like you’re reading from a rulebook.

Creepy. Makes him shudder. Maybe Leon did Stockholm you purposefully, he didn’t expect you to respond so well, he was just saying shit. Like, shit that comes out of his mouth when he’s horny, and your sick little brain took his word as law. So, like, that’s your fault and you’re making it his problem. ‘Cause everyone loves to make everything Leon’s problem.

“God, you’re such a clever girl, baby,” he coos because he is so kind and gracious, giving out praise left and right. The tip of Leon’s cock is sticky, drags it through the seam of your cunt to part your folds, kisses your clit with the fat head. There’s a slight gape to your puckered hole when he grabs your ass cheek to open you up. Leon’s forced his way in countless times before, it’s no different this time. With a cock lubed by precum and your drippy cunt, he pushes into your asshole mercilessly.

“That’s a cute face, sweetheart, you gonna do that for me again?” Leon asks, taking a handful of tit as he admires the pain washing over your face— The divot between your brows that he smooths over with his thumb, a quivering bottom lip, eyes screwed shut ‘cause you’re trying to take his fat cock like a good girl should. You make it so easy to hurt you.

“Leon,” you whimper when he bottoms out. His cock kicks inside you, he pulls out to be mean, carves out space and your hole flutters ‘cause it’s so empty— Leon forces his way back in, till the ring of muscle swallows up the base of his cock, and his balls smack wetly against the fat of your ass. Two fingers find their way into your sloppy pussy once more, he feels the ridges of his cock through the spongy, thin walls of your cunt, and you’re liking it too much, fucking him back far too enthusiastically when his thumb presses down on your pulsing clit.

“You’re gonna cum like this, sweetheart,” Leon tells you matter-of-factly, removes his fingers with a pop! and wipes the milky cream dribbling down his wrist on your tummy. “Can you do that for me?”

“No, Leon, I can’t,” you shake your head, trembling fingers wrapping around his wrist to guide him back to your puffy clit.

“Yes you can, baby, you’re gonna do it for me aren’t you?” He tuts, breaking free from your sorry excuse of a grip to lay a firm smack on your jaw. It sends your head to the right, hears your neck crack, he’s sure. “We don’t use words like ‘no’ do we?”

“No…”

Aw, that was a trick question— He gives you another smack to force your head to the left. A little brain damage goes a long way. Keeps you obedient. When you get over the dizziness and face him head-on, you try to blink away the tears to no avail, they roll down your cheeks in pearlescent blobs. Clicker training is unneeded when you have a firm hand. It’s worked so well, any mention of your life outside of the time spent in his home and he’s punching your lights out, now you talk to Leon about Leon, and you think of Leon, and you fuck Leon and you love him– Jesus, okay, he did Stockholm you real fucking bad. No wonder you’re so weird.

Leon rabbits into you, short and shallow thrusts ‘cause it’s harder for you to breathe that way with his cock constantly pushing and jabbing and— Fuck, he’s practically reshaping your insides at such a brutal pace.

“I knew you could do it,” Leon snickers, presses hard on your abdomen to help you cum— And you’re so cute when you do, writhing and lifting your hips up and just looking a little stupid. There’s a stuttered breath, then you’re squirting in sharp bursts, from his cock in your ass alone. “There we go— You did it, baby, did so well—“ He is so fucking sweet to you, talking you through your high and shit. “You love getting your ass fucked don’t you?”

When you don’t respond, too busy trying to recover from an orgasm that’s left you boneless, Leon knocks some sense into you. “I do,” you gasp, teeth clattering like they always do when he hits you. “I do, Leon, I do, I love it— Love you.”

Holy shit. He hates it. That’s what drives him over the edge, that’s what makes him fuck his load into your ass till it’s dripping back down his shaft, that’s what gets his legs all shaky? It sickens him.

“Do you love me, Leon? I love you so much, Leon,” you mumble to him feverishly when he dips low to rest his forehead on yours, a hand on your cheek.

“You’re growing on me, baby,” Leon says, kissing the spot on your cheek he hit less than a minute ago. “Go clean yourself up.” He checks his watch while you limp off to the en-suite. “I’m headin’ out soon.”

“What?” You poke your head past the door frame, genuinely distraught at this revelation. “But you just got home, Leon, I was so bored— Can I come with you?”

“Are you dumb, baby?” Leon blinks at you, and he knows the answer is yes already.

“I’ll just miss you, like, lots ‘n lots.” You’re padding towards him, seating yourself on his lap. He puts his hands on your hips to draw you in, you breathe in his scent. It can’t be pleasant, but you get something out of it. “I want to come with you, please. I won’t run away, Leon, I like it with you.”

“I know you won’t run away,” he hums, squeezing your hips. “What would you do without me? You’d just miss me, baby.”

“And I’m gonna miss you when you go now, Leon.” Your arms loop around his neck. This is fucking disgusting. You’re not his girlfriend, but his literal kidnapping victim and he’s all loved up, letting you stroke his hair and kiss his neck— Fuck, he hates it, hates that he likes you so damn much.

It’s not like he could get away with it. Claire’s got, like, a database in her head for all the fucking women in the world. One look at your face and she’ll know. And how the fuck are you meant to play that off? Bringing a missing girl as your date for the night.

“You can come with me,” he agrees, just not in the girlfriend way, but in the appropriate kidnapped girl way. With a gag in your mouth and your hands behind your back, tucked into his trunk like a cute, fleshy suitcase.

Zip ties are best, rope comes second, and Leon’s tie is probably not on the list of best kidnapping tools. He just wasn’t prepared to take you with him. He’s fairly new to the whole kidnapper thing, it’s quite exhausting.

The sun sets early these days, and it’s not like Leon lives in a crowded area. Only sign of life on the street is him. And you. Panties stuffed in your mouth as a makeshift gag, wrists tied together with the tie Hunnigan got him for Christmas. You could spit the panties out at any minute, but you don’t. You could break free from the shitty knot he’s tied, but you don’t. Leon must be good at this manipulation thing ‘cause you’re so damn docile, letting him lay you down like a corpse, move you around like one.

“All good?” Leon asks, tilts his head to the side as you stare up at him with glassy eyes. Not all good. You’re terrified. He can tell. You still nod though. “Good.” He kisses your head, then shuts you in.

Leon is already a bit of a nervous driver. His windows are blacked out at least. He always feels like he’s doing something wrong. Like there’s drugs planted in his glove compartment, or he’s got blood money on the backseat, or a cute girl in the trunk— Which he does, but he doesn’t usually have a cute girl tied up in the trunk. He usually does get a ticket or two though, able to charm his way out of it, flash his ID.

There isn't a single noise from you, not even a thump, and it worries him. Leon considers pulling over, but he drives on white-knuckled and shaky. Hopes you haven’t rolled out without him noticing. Been flattened by a truck. Jesus Christ, he thought something about this would be gratifying, but his nerves have spiked and unlocked a new level of anxiety. He should hand himself in right now– Obviously, he doesn’t do that, and he parks up outside Claire’s apartment instead, and he is going to check on you, he is, he was–

“Oh, hey you!” Sherry takes him by surprise, her hand is small in his, but it’s calloused. Doesn’t feel like it did when he held it the first time. Even smaller and bloodied. When she smiles at him, soft wrinkles form. “You’re on time,” she comments, and he wants to die because there is a girl in his trunk.

“Right on, kiddo!” He says to Sherry who is thirty-seven and married. Leon would like to think he does well in high-pressure situations, he does do well in high-pressure situations. That’s a fact. He’s great in end-of-the-world-type scenarios, great at saving America from impending doom, he could do it with his eyes closed– Facing the closest thing you have to family not as yourself, but as a creepy, old rapist is insanely difficult and he would prefer to never do it again. However, he is exactly that, plus a kidnapper, so Leon will continue to do it for the rest of his days.

“Are you okay, Leon?” The corners of her lips are downturned– She knows, oh god, she knows, and she’s never going to look at you the same, and she’ll hate you for the rest of her life– “You’re not sick, are you? I heard there was a bug going around, Jake got sick today that’s why he couldn’t come.” Fuck Jake. Leon dislikes him. Her hair is longer, long enough to fall over her shoulders. He’d tell her to cut it, in their line of work it’s a risk, but she looks how she used to look, and Leon can’t say anything to her.

“No, I’m just, I’m cold, it’s cold, right? It’s cold out here, let’s go inside– Claire’s waiting,” he says very smoothly, totally without a single fumble.

“What is up with you?” Claire scans his guilty face when she opens the door, scans it like a robot, not like an observant human. She steps aside to let Sherry in, kissing the shorter girl’s cheek, and then she blocks Leon from entering. “My pipes are bust, Leon.”

“Okay? Can’t help you with that, babe.” Leon is not a fucking plumber. Doesn’t look like one in the slightest. He’s handsome like a washed-up actor, he knows that much is true, does not fit the bill for a plumber.

“You look like you need to shit really bad.”

“God, I don’t, I’m just fuckin’ cold.” Leon shows her his shaky hands as proof. It’s not proof ‘cause these are kidnapper shakes.

Claire stares at him. Ineffable. Unflappable. She scares the shit out of him, might really end up on her busted toilet if she scrutinises him to this degree all night. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good, I’m great– I’m cold, I’m fine,” he says normally because he is a normal man with a heart and soul and dick and balls and credit. All the shit normal guys have. And a girl in the trunk, he’s got that too. The cast-iron doubt in Claire’s eyes has Leon on edge for the rest of the night. It never dissipates. Or she’s just looked that way her whole life and Leon’s overthinking it.

“Nah, Leon hates those, don’t you?” Sherry nudges his shoulder.

“Huh?” Leon says intelligently, he’s painfully aware of his blundering efforts at socialising. Painfully aware of you. In his trunk. Cold, scared, and wet ‘cause you’re fucked up. He hates a lot of things like assless chaps and seven-eleven beer and swans. He drinks seven-eleven beer anyway. Does not wear assless chaps though. And he’d prefer to keep it that way. Swans piss him off ‘cause they're beautiful and violent and beautiful things should be passive like you are. Beautiful things were put on this earth to be gawked at. Beautiful things belong tied up in his car.

“Parrots,” she smiles at him again and he’s hit by a wave of nausea.

“What about ‘em?”

“Me and Jake want to get a pet, I’ve always wanted a parrot, you promised to get me one when I was a kid,” Sherry says, it’s not even to guilt trip him, just factual, but Leon feels like the shittiest guy alive, he’s very good at feeling bad.

“I do hate them,” Leon confirms, “They talk too much.” Pets are pets. They roll over, show off their bellies, wag their tails, they shouldn't speak.

“That’s what I like about them!”

Leon gets a headache when you speak for even a minute, that’s why he couldn't deal with a parrot. Or any pet other than his lucky girl ‘cause at least she’s smart enough to know when to shut up.

“It’s not like they talk a lot.” Claire fills her wine glass for the nth time. “They speak when spoken too,” she says while blinking at Leon so directly he thinks she might’ve put cameras in his house to see if he’s being as feminist as he claims he is. “And you can teach them names, I think it’s cute.”

“We took care of a puppy last year, a friend’s one, but Jake doesn’t like dogs at all. Poor thing, she got car sick when we took her out, she was in the back on her own, and she must’ve been so scared-”

A dog in the back of a car all on her own. God, doesn’t that sound familiar? Did you get car sick? Should he have checked up on you? Fuck, you might’ve choked to death on your own car sickness by now. The clock ticks and Leon checks his watch about ten times within five minutes. He can’t leave first. He never leaves first– Oh, fuck, but what if you’re fucking dead? He prays you aren’t. He would appreciate it if you were alive.

“I don’t… I don’t feel great,” Leon says not convincingly when he stands up, then he bends to kiss Sherry on the head. “I love you, sweetheart, we’ll catch up next time, alright?” And he doesn’t give either of them a chance to respond properly. Collecting his keys from the table, his jacket, his gun.

Leon, don’t you want to finish– Leon, you’re leaving– Call me when you get back– I’ll miss you, Leon– Text me back– Should you be driving–

He would love to reassure Sherry, tell her that he’ll miss her so much he could die and that he promises to text Claire back on time, and that he’s perfectly capable when it comes to drunk driving. but he’s pretty sure he’s got a missing dead girl in his trunk. Leon wonders if they can see him clearly from Claire’s fifth-story window. They don’t care about what he’s doing, but the probability that they might be able to see what he’s doing, acting all shady, is scary. The street lights flicker, and when he opens the hatch, he’s bathed in the glow of your halo. Hail fucking Mary and Joseph and Jesus. You’re there, eyes frantic, and very alive, panties still stuffed in your mouth. Could’ve spat those out by now, but you’re a good girl.

“Fuck,” Leon sighs, he smiles like he loves you. “Hi, baby, did you have fun?” He hunches over to get a better look at you, you’re in the position he left you in, on your side, balled up, almost foetal. He slaps your tit, pinches your cheek, pokes your ass like he’s giving you a physical. You shake your head. “No?” Leon pouts at you, then he leaves you in the dark by slamming the lid. The thrill has sorta settled in, or he’s just tipsy, ‘cause he’s giddy about it, about having you back there. Highways are fairly empty at this time, and so now that he’s boosted by you not being dead and cognac, Leon parks up on the side of the road. Opens up his trunk, again, it’s the most he’s ever used it, shit is gonna fall off its hinges.

“You saved me,” you say when he takes your spit-soaked panties out of your mouth. “You found me, sir, I was so scared, I-I thought I was going to die in here.”

Leon’s confused for a second, then he gets it. You’re roleplaying as… as a kidnapping victim. Which you already are. So it’s like the Droste effect, or holarchy, or more simply a thing within a thing. You’re letting him take on the hero part, which he’s most familiar with, he’s good at being the good guy, that’s why Leon is a pretty crummy kidnapper. “I saved you,” Leon says flatly, he goes with it. “You should suck my dick to say thank you.” He didn’t mean to say that so soon, he was gonna play along for longer, but you made him really fucking hard just then. Teary-eyed, snotty, looking so cute and sweetly kidnapped.

Waiting for your response isn’t his style. Leon had his dick out before you even spoke, he was planning on just stuffing it in your mouth, but you went and made up a little story in your head to get him even harder. He shuffles forward, wipes the tip on your lips, slaps it on your cheek.

“C’mon, open up, baby.” You nose at the underside of his cock, then take him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and giving it to him so well, how he likes it, choking once you get to the balls. Leon places a hand on the back of your head, forces you still as he pounds your throat, hearing you gag and heave brings him comfort, ‘cause you're struggling and he loves to make you struggle, loves to make you work for it. You've had it too easy, and now you’ve started liking the sex (read: rape), so Leon’s glad he can hurt you without you getting off on it. “Okay, okay, that’s enough, baby, you can stop that now,” Leon says like he wasn’t skullfucking you into a coma, his cock slips past your lips, strings of saliva beading your chin, your neck, your tits.

The trunk is kinda small, when he puts you on your front, your head rests on the backseats, and your legs dangle over the edge. “Can you untie me, sir?” You ask in a scratchy voice, throat shredded.

Leon ignores you. He’s busy scoffing at how fucking soaked you are, misses the days he had to spit on your cunt to get it wet, when he felt all big like his cock was imposing ‘cause you were so dry he had to force his way in, and you would scream so loud it sliced his skin, and he would groan for that contrapuntal effect ‘cause hurting you is the best thing he’s ever felt. Better than opioids, better than regular sex, better than a scalp massage, better than anything that feels mildly great.

Your cunt swallows his shaft too well, and it is hot to know you’re so far gone now, but would it kill your pussy to show some form of resistance? He knocks his hips forward so hard the car jolts, thrusts all his weight into you, so his cock is doing nothing but harm, breaking your cunt in, going past your cervix, womb-fucking and all that good shit. It doesn’t get further than your cervix for obvious reasons.

‘Cause his dick is not a knife, it’s a dick and it twitches when you clench. He likes having a dick, he likes to fuck with it, likes to stick it in places it shouldn’t be, likes to disfigure and wreck and ruin with it - fly in the ointment is that it’s not immune to stupid, sloppy holes that beg for it. Leon shudders, keeps himself buried to the hilt, rolls his hips forward so the tip jabs the fleshy, firm opening of your cervix in painful grinds.

“Leon,” you wheeze, twisting like you’re getting exorcised, “Leon— Leon, it hurts—“

“I know, baby,” Leon pats your ass, giving a sharp thrust forward to make you sob. “Keep talkin’ to me like that, turns me on.”

“Hurts so bad, hurts, Leon, ‘s gonna– ‘s gonna kill me, Leon– Don’t wanna die, I don’t wanna die, please–”

“Shit,” he laughs breathlessly. That was hot. Girls begging for their lives ‘cause his dick is too good. When you turn to glance at him over your shoulder, his hips stutter. “Fuck, baby– You look fucked.” Like you’re terrified of him. That's how it should be. “Don’t go pushin’ me out,” Leon grunts, words punctuated by strokes that have you reeling in all the worst ways.

“I can��t–” Your head bumps the seats when Leon knocks you in the back of the head. Hard enough to stun you into silence.

“Can’t run from it, can you?” Leon bites down on your shoulder, momentary relief from the cruel drag of his cock inside your sticky cunt, now you can focus on his teeth. How he might tear into you. Eat you up. “Gotta take it for me, baby, ‘cause that’s what you're good for. No brains just got a stupid little cunt.” When he cums, you arch into him, and he fucks into you with all he’s got, till you’re stuffed full of his seed. Something to keep your belly warm for the ride home. Leon should get an award for being this considerate.

“Leon, can I sit in the front?” you sniffle, pathetic and floppy and orgasmless.

He sneers at you. “Do you want me to get caught, sweetheart? You wanna get taken away from me?”

“No, Leon…”

Click!

That was cathartic. Leon’s glad you’ve still got pain receptors, you’re not totally gone, clinging on for dear life, but still afloat. He carries his little body bag to the door. “Want a photo?” Leon sets you down on the ground, you cling to the back of his shirt as he struggles with his jammy lock.

“Oh, yeah!” You light up, “‘Cause you saved me!”

“Yeah, baby.” Leon ushers you inside. “I saved you.” From the boot of his own fucking car.

#leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

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togegiri · 3 months

Text

✎ᝰ ❛ THIS SWEETNESS IS JUST MADE FOR YOU ❜ — yuuta okkotsu. toge inumaki. megumi fushiguro. yuuji itadori.

౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆ content. The many woe's of being inlove is valentines day, so what kind of sweet treat do they make for you?

₊˚⊹ ᰔ warnings. gender neutral reader. you/your and they/them pronouns is used. (name) will be used. petnames is used (my love - yuuta , darling - megumi , my sunflower - yuuji). tooth rottening fluff.

note. kind off early for valentines day but I wanted to write it anyways! happy early valentines day people <33

— THE PREPARED TYPE. 乙骨憂太 | okkotsu yuuta

[ "happy valentines day (name), here you go, usually girls give out the chocolates but I wanted to do the giving! I didn't want to buy just chocolates so I made chocolate chip cookies! I hope you love them my love.. y- you don't mind if I call you my love right?" ]

A gentleman to the boot. A week before valentines he has already been planning on what to get for you. He wanted to give you something meaningful that you'll love. Thus the idea of baking cookies came in.

A chocolate chip cookie to be exact. Although he doesn't know baking that much, he asked for his friends' help, pandas, toge, maki. Although when he asks for their help all he gets is “I don't know how to bake,” or “bonito flakes” in toge's language.

Thus he opted to get baking lessons which was worth it because he learned how to bake cakes, and different types of desserts that he can surprise you for any occasion.

While in the baking lessons he was a little slow but the teacher didn't mind at all. He had to apologize a lot due to the small clumsy mistakes he does but nonetheless he was able to learn through his mistakes.

He gifts you the chocolate chip cookie with a white paper bag and light pink ribbons and laces. He tried his best to make the packaging look adorable which ended up to be cute and great!

He also bought you some pink tulips. The day of the valentines day he was worried you wont like the cookies he baked or worse your allergic to something in the cookie. So he had to ask in advance if your allergic to anything before he gave it to you.

When he gave the cutely packaged cookies and the tulips he gave you an awkward smile. As you feel your body feel hot as he blushed a little seeing you take the cutely packaged gift and the pink tulips.

“Oh uh… umm since you said you dont have any allergies h- here! happy valentines,” he gives it to you as he awkwardly chuckles feeling pink dust forming in his cheek. Slowly you take the cutely packaged sweet treat, “I hope you love it how much I loved making it for you.”

“thank you yuuta,” you smiled, giving him a small peck in the kiss, making his eyes widen. His whole face covered with his blush, “your welcome my love,” he gave you a kiss back. Yuuta feels as if his mouth has been overfilled with the sweetness of the chocolates as he looks at you. He truly is a lovesick fool isn't he?

— THE AWKWARD TYPE. 狗巻棘 | inumaki toge

[ “uhh… k- kelp… tuna tuna,” ]

He's a hopeless romantic. Although quite awkward as I'd like to think when he's in love, he'll love hard to the point he feels nervous and shy around them. He had to take three shopping trips in three whole days because he feels as if the things he bought are not too worthy for you.

Unlike yuuta he just followed a youtube tutorial and winged it the day before valentine. It was a lot of trial and error. Yes he woke up panda just to force panda to try the first failure of his creation.

Panda thought he was poisoning him after eating all of his onigiri. Yes the cursed corpse puked it out after. Toge has to be up all night to make those chocolate soufflés for you. The ending was a messy kitchen, a panda who looks like he's about to enter heaven and see Jesus, and a perfectly done chocolate soufflés.

He wrapped it in a minimalistic way, a red wrapper and a pink ribbon on the chocolate soufflés and made a small cute note on it drawing a chibi of yourself and him holding hands.

He hopes the chocolate soufflés were to your liking and the love letter reaches through your heart. He'll hide under his collar once you get the gifts he has given you. He wants to run away, kiss you, or give you a kiss then run away after!

In short he doesn't know what to do and just short circuits but tries his best to stay where he is as you took his declaration of love.

As you take the valentines gift you smile at him seeing the love letter attached to the wrapped treats. He blushed a little trying to hide his face with his collar as you read the letter he wrote.

Dear (name),

I love you, I know I can say it aloud like anybody can. I do hope my actions can speak through the words I badly wanna say. I love you dearly.

You smile at him, bringing him to a hug. The cursed speech user's eyes widen at this as he awkwardly hugs you back putting his head on your shoulder feeling his whole face hot and embarrassed. “I love you too toge!” He nodded his head as he hugged you tightly making you giggle hugging him back tightly.

Words may not be said but actions are much louder to toge's love for you.

— THE COOL HEADED TYPE. 伏黒恵 | fushiguro megumi

[ “I hope this isn't much, I hope you aren't disappointed, I'm not much of a flower type of guy but I hope this love letter will suffice, happy valentines day d-.. ahem! darling..” ]

He knows how to bake and is a perfect boyfriend at this point. Although he's quite stoic and a private person you loved him nonetheless. As for valentines day presents he already planned them in advance.

He personally doesn't like giving flowers but prefers to give you a love letter or love notes. He made some chocolate truffles for you but when gojo saw him baking he immediately annoyed megumi to let him join baking which he denied multiple times.

Gojo ended up eating some of the truffles as megumi forced him out of the kitchen. The way he decorated the packaging was a simplistic style. A cute pink wrapper with red ribbons decorating it. As he gave it to you, same with the cutely decorated letter scented with his favorite perfume.

Particularly he wasn't embarrassed more on the nervous side, afterall he value what your likes and dislikes and wants the best for you.

“Tell me if you don't like it, I'm gonna remake the one you like, okay?” he says making you chuckle as you take the gifts he gave for you, “silly megumi, I'd eat it even if I'm allergic to it if it came from you,”

The raven haired male chuckles, “stop being an idiot I would never let you eat something you're allergic too,” you grin as he gives you a small peck in the cheek as you hugged him close.

— THE SUNSHINE TYPE. 虎杖悠仁 | itadori yuuji

[ “I got you tons of things, if I'm being truthful I almost forgot about it so I kinda panicked and bought lots of things! I hope you like what I get for you, my sunflower!” ]

He almost forgot about it until nobara asked what he'll get for you. His eyes widened as he looked at nobara in panic as the brunette girl looked at him in defeat. He forced the girl to help him as nobara fighted for her life to not be in yuuji's shit.

Ended up helping him in the end as they looked around a patissier shop where he ended up buying brownies for you. He also requested for the workers to wrap it in a super duper cute way! pink wrapper, red ribbons, with white frills, and cute heart designs on it.

He also bought you a cute hello kitty plushie, a bouquet rose and a letter. Yuuji Itadori is going all out for this because he felt guilty and almost forgot about it. He will say it to you too once he gives his presents to you. Apologizing, looking like a kicked puppy.

You chuckled as you let it go, making the boy grin and pepper you with kisses.

“I’m still sorry I almost forgot about it…” yuuji whined hugging you close nuzzling his head onto your shoulder making you chuckle, “it's fine, I still love you yuuji, I don't mind if you forgot about it,” the pink haired male pouts. “That's not good, if I forget any event I'm gonna be angry at myself for that because I want to shower you with all my love.”

“You already do those yuuji, everyday you shower me with your love,”

“that's true I still want you to know I love you with every anniversary, valentines day, birthday, christmas—”

“yeah, yeah, I got it yuuji,”

He chuckles, hugging you closer, loving the warmth you two make.

“Good!”

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thegnomelord · 4 months

Note

With all these M!reader courting (and practically rizzing up everyone) in their own hybrid way, imagine poor Ghost, he's like toothless, doesn't know how tf to court someone of say, even his own species because he was once human

And with that rant about all the absurd ways of courting, what would he call as his own?

Would he give gifts like Gaz and Price? A piece to remember them by?

I doubt he'd be the physical type like cuddly ol soap who loves to scent,

He's practically a shadow (literally and figuratively) and I feel like the best he can do is stare and slowly blink like a cat (and let's be honest most of the time we don't see his eye) so he might even just act like a stalker and watch from afar, not much of a scent even on him if he's near, even when in the midst of battle

So what can he do then? I feel like going to Price is his best bet and when he tries to scent something like Soap it smells like nothing

I feel like he'd beat himself up on it

(Also fucking love your courting works, I've been eating that shit up its become a hyperfixation)

- ☕️ Anon

I reckon that staring would be less of a wraith thing and more of a Simon thing. Because like, wraiths don't reproduce, they're made not born. So poor Simon just has to try to use the knowledge he had before he died.

CW:NSFW subbot ghost, topdom reader, rough and quick

He likes you.

Just like he's a Riley, just like the sky is blue, his affection for you is one of the few truths of the world he doesn't question. Only problem — he doesn't know how to tell you. You're not human and neither is he, not anymore, but he's woefully unprepared when it comes to you, doesn't know if he's supposed to go about it as a wraith or as a man.

He tries; Simon's phone is full of open tabs containing every piece of information about your species, trying to find grains of truth in the contradicting mess of words. He's memorized how you like your morning coffee down to the last flake of sugar, watching your face carefully when you trudge to the communal kitchen to find your mug steaming and everything laid out near it. He knows your schedule inside out, always a few minutes earlier in the gym when you come in, offering to spot you, his dark eyes roaming over your sweat covered skin. His gaze is always flickering to you, regardless of what you're doing or where you are — watching, guarding, making sure the world doesn't take away that spark like it did with Simon Riley.

But you fail to notice it, him. Or maybe you do but don't care. Don't see him as anything but your teammate, like you should, like he should. God, what is he even doing trying to fucking woo you like some lovestruck Victorian gent. . .

Simon feels like banging his head against the wall.

Maybe then something in his imperceptibly rotten skull will come loose, tumble around in what's left of his brain like a snowball rolling down a hill to form an avalanche, or at least a vestige of a good thought; an idea, something he could use to get out of this rut.

He doesn't go to Price for advice. The old dragon finds him, knows him long enough to figure out when Simon's up to his throat in shite. Price sits down next to him as they watch you and Gaz spar, "Alright, spit it out." Price hums as he lights his cigar.

Simon's lips form a thin line beneath his mask, his fingers gripping the meat of his arm to keep his form stable. His eyes don't stray from you, cataloging every trail of sweat as it rolls down your skin, watching your muscles flex beneath your skin as you throw a punch, making a mental note to show you the mistakes you make in private and—

His shoulders fall, "'m fucked." The words escape him like he'd been punched in the gut.

Price gives him the side eye, looking him up and down. "Doesn't look like you enjoyed it."

"Hah." Simon says in a dry tone. "Always a comedian captain."

Price chuckles, wing spreading out to bump against his shoulder. "Jokes aside," he lets out a small puff of smoke, "You could just tell 'im."

Simon's eyes narrow, "What, not going to suggest I go find some obscure shite ta gift him?" If he could find some concrete information about your species courting habits he would have done so by now, would have happily torn up Heaven and Hell looking for whatever would make you look at him the same way Price looks at Kyle.

"No," Price rolls his eyes, standing up and stretching. "Just go talk to 'im you bloody muppet, going to creep him out if you keep staring like that." He nods his head towards you.

Simon's head is a dark sea of thoughts as he spars with you, tries to make it seem like nothing's wrong but you catch on quick; he's distracted, falling for moves he'd once chastised you for pulling, the edges of his form crackling like the static of a tv, shadowy smoke rising from his blackened arms as he throws a punch that goes wide.

He grunts as you knock him to the ground, your hands on his shoulders to pin him down. "You alright?" You ask, your brows furrowed. "You're not fighting like you usually do."

You can barely see his dark eyes narrow, his body still beneath yours. "I'm fine." He growls out, tries to ignore how the warmth of your body against his makes him feel, nibbling on his nerves like a craving for a drug he can't have.

"Uhuh," You hum, a little confused why he's letting you pin him down so long. "Come on Ghost, you're not getting soft on me are you?" With a huff you attempt to pull away, knowing you couldn't force words out of his mouth.

The sudden lack of your warmth is what forces his body to move before his mind does, shadows shooting out to grab you before congealing back into his arm, pulling you down so his lips can crash on yours.

You grunt into his mouth from the surprise, your eyes wide with surprise. Simon's frozen heart cracks just a bit when you don't respond, only to melt when you finally kiss him back. Your lips feel like heaven against his, Simon's eyes shutting and long tongue slipping into your mouth.

You choke a bit, pulling back to catch your breath, your eyes widening as Simon's long tongue slips back into his mouth. "Fucking hell Simon." You pant,

"Got a whole bag of tricks." Simon says, his throat dry. "I-" He begins to say, thoughts running on how to tell you he wants you but no words coming out, something clogging his throat like molasses.

"Yeah," You grin, the lights overhead casting a halo around your head. "I know." Tipping your head down you catch his lips again, your kiss deep and rough, Simon's teeth digging into your lip until it bleeds, your sharp fangs nipping his tongue, blood mixing in your mouths, arousal starting to course through your veins.

Simon's hands grope your ass, pulling your crotch down on his so your cocks can rub together. Simon greedily swallows your groan, his arms starting to fizzle, shadowy smoke wrapping around you to keep you close as his hand sneaks down to undo your belts, fishing out your cocks.

"Christ," You groan and pant into his mouth, grabbing hold of both of your cocks and rocking your hips into his, pleasure buzzing up your spine.

"Don't bring 'im in here." Simon growls and throws an arm around your neck, demanding your attention with a kiss, longue tongue pushing half way down your throat and hips bucking up to rub his cock against yours. "Just us here."

You moan against his lips and fuck, if that isn't the prettiest sound he's ever heard, his mind clouding over with pleasure and before either one of you knows it Simon's cumming, pulling you down with him, your combined cum painting both of your stomachs.

It takes a few moments for Simon to catch his breath, his pupils blows wide as he stares up at you. "Shite." He breathes out, boneless beneath you.

You grin, "You can say that again." and you lean down to kiss him again.

#gnome correspondence #cod mw2 #x reader #trinkets from the hoard #male reader #top male reader #simon ghost riley #☕anon #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x male reader #cod x male reader #cod smut #cod monster au #monster cod au #monster 141 au #cod modern warfare

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radioisntdead · 27 days

Note

Hi can I request alastor x Vox's sister reader? Reader isn't a tech demon like Vox and kinda the opposite of when it comes to technology.

Basically the equivalent of someone who's so bad at cooking they could burn water except with technology. And maybe Vox didn't know they were down in hell and only found out well spying on Alastor and reader accidently does that destroys a tech thing.

You dont have to do it if you'd dint want to and sorry its so long I hope it's not to weird or specific.

Good evening My dear! I may have gone slightly overboard, I had fun with this request!

You know where to find me, I know where to look.

Alastor x female reader, Vox & sister reader

Warnings!!

Vox being a creepy lil tv creeper, implied Radiosilence, Alastor plots to take out the reader at one point, both reader and Alastor are on the Aroace spectrum, Am I projecting a little? Yes

Reader has beef with microwaves, not proof read apologies for any spelling mistakes, Leaning into fanon territory here! Ending a little scrambled because it's 7 am and I am supposed to be up in three hours.

Vox's sister was something he didn't talk about often or at all, maybe a brief whisper of "[Name] would like this"

when he saw something she would like but nothing more, while Vox had managed to live up until the 50's you had died before him, a unspecified illness had taken your life, he suspected it was from you over working yourself but he couldn't prove it, all he knew was that you were more then likely in heaven with the angels, probably doing whatever you please.

He'd like to see his sister again after all the two of you were little troublemakers growing up, sneakily stealing the freshly baked cookies your mother made, spraying the neighbors son with the hose when he shoved Vox onto the ground or throwing rotten eggs at the neighbors other son who tried to pull your pigtails, although you did fight a fair amount, with you chasing him down with a baseball bat after he had broken the head off of your doll one time.

When the war took the life of your father and heartbreak took your mother's years after, when the two of you were in the middle of your teenage years, the two of you only had each other, you had each other's backs, even if you disapproved of your brothers obsession with the up and coming TV technology, it worked in his favor once he landed a job working with it, managing to scramble up the connections to get you a nice job as some guys secretary, it paid well and the guy wasn't stupid enough to mess around with Vox's sister.

To his knowledge you didn't get involved in the field politics like he did, where he trampled over the weak ones, stealing ideas and parading them off as his own when his own ideas were rejected, And the other things he did to get to the top, you were a decent person, a woman far beyond her time one would say.

However unknown to him his sister was causing up trouble in her own right, finding the weak spots of her bosses and exploiting them via blackmail or something amongst those lines, and if they refused to be blackmailed by her? Not even giving her a pretty penny to keep her mouth shut about their affairs? Their deals? Their tax fraud? Well the newspaper would have a field day with the scoop she anonymously dropped off.

Both siblings were doomed to fall below, maybe if they had perished around the same time they wouldn't had been separated, maybe she would've even joined the Vee's!

But they perished separately, years apart.

You met Alastor not long after dying, the deer radio host befriending you rather quickly.

Deer were ironically one of your favorite animals, and you always did prefer the radio as opposed to your brothers television, maybe that's why you foolishly put your trust in a friendship with Alastor, that was repaid with the Radio demon reluctantly falling for your charms, you falling for his,and not with him trying to eat you or making a deal with him and taking your soul.

Vox similarly had met Alastor after he had perished, and they were on friendly terms up until Alastor had, to be blunt rejected Vox's proposal, and then vanished for seven years.

Not once in those years of supposed friendship did Vox learn about you, he didn't even know the radio demon had a spouse, let alone that it was his own sister,

It's not that Alastor was ashamed of you or anything, he simply didn't think Vox was important enough to introduce you too, even when you were considered just a good friend and not his spouse, he considered Vox a supposed, one friend but not to the level of Rosie for example,

Rosie was the first person to know about you

Most types of modern technology would fizzle out or explode in your hands, you learned this the hard way after purchasing a flip phone and it exploded in your hands once you turned it on.

Alastor did NOT let you live that down, saying that it was your fault for trusting in faulty modern technology, eventually after some experimenting with random technology it was discovered that anything from the 2000's forward were practically expensive bombs for you,

Alastor took great joy in snatching up modern electronics and placing them in your hands to be rid of them before taking care of the unfortunate sinner that owned them, either making a snack out of them or taking their soul in a deal.

You didn't mind it much, was it somewhat inconvenient? Yes without a doubt, everyone kept their electronics away from you, you could be talking to Angel and he'd slide his phone far away from you, was that a bit much? Probably but if he pissed you off enough for whatever reason you could just reach over and BOOM no more phone!

Vox being the nosey control freak he was, used his devices to lurk around the hotel, and for plot related reasons managed to sneak into the hotel undetected with a remote control car with a camera the size of a hot wheels, at first he didn't see much, The princess and her girlfriend having a little date, The cat bartender and Angel Dust chatting while drinking, Niffty traumatizing baby bugs, blah blah boring stuff to him,

However he perked up as he spotted the radio demon, in the kitchen for whatever reason, cooking away, coat put to the side, sleeves rolled up, tail exposed, chopping up celery, bell peppers, garlic and onions while humming a tune,

Vox watched in stalkerish excitement as Alastor chopped the vegetables to prep for the meal he was making, it wasn't anything to be excited about but he was anyway,

Vox's expression changed from excitement to displeasure as someone walked into the kitchen, Joyfully calling out for Alastor while holding up a bag of what looked to be groceries,

Alastor turned, tail moving swiftly back and forth at the sight of his beloved spouse you moved forwards, just barely brushing against Vox's little spy car causing it to burst into flames.

Simultaneously causing Vox to break out in a sting of curses while you and Alastor looked at each other in confusion, before your face twisted into one of frustration, assuming you had bumped into some type of kitchen gizmo

"Can I NOT touch kitchen appliances anymore?!"

"Settle down dearest, and put down the produce please."

Vox came back at later date with another hot wheel camera, managing to sneak into the hotel when Angel dust opened the hotel doors to leave, this time Vox was determined to avoid whatever had caused the first device to explode,

There wasn't anything worth wild for him, The princess was scrambling with papers, the king of hell surrounded himself with ducks for some apparent reason?? Alastor was nowhere to be seen, but the person he was with in the kitchen was, sat at the bar listening to Niffty explain fanfiction while the bartender nursed a drink muttering something about being too sober for that.

Vox squinted as he zoomed closer to you, he stared for a few minutes before recognizing you as his sister, you looked different then when you were alive but it was without a doubt you.

Why the fuck were you down here?! And why were you in the hotel?! Did you know he was here?! Probably not considering he had a TV for a head now and went by Vox instead of whatever normal human name he had before.

Vox observed for the next couple of days, catching on that you and most modern technology did NOT mix, you had taken down twenty-five of his hot wheel cameras just by nicking them, you also had weird beef with Microwaves, sometimes they worked for you, and others times they fizzled down and refuses to work for you,

It annoyed you to no end especially when you were trying to eat a microwaved meal behind Alastor's back.

He wondered what would happen if you touched his head at all, would he explode? He didn't want to find out.

You hadn't changed much from when the two of you were alive, maybe more outgoing and confident but you were still the sister he grew up with, he debated on whether he should reach out, what would he say?

'hey sister, it's been a couple of decades I've been watching you? Join the Vees!'

that's not a normal thing to say, Not to mention Alastor more then likely wouldn't let him get near you

He found that you and Alastor were close, too close for his liking, cooking together, the two of you would dance together, Alastor would bite you when the two of you were allegedly alone, and the two of you even shared a room!

Was Vox in denial about the obvious? Yes, yes he was.

On one side there was that sibling protectiveness on the other he was jealous because why didn't Alastor treat him like he did you when they were on good terms?! Why didn't he? Was this why he turned him down on joining the Vee's?

Was it because of you? How long have the two of you known each other? Why didn't Alastor mention you to him? Did Alastor not trust him during their friendship? Of course he didn't, he was a heartless cannibalistic deer with gross deer hooves,

Clearly you were being held hostage or something, maybe you sold your soul to Alastor?

Alastor was clearly using you for his own entertainment like he had with Vox during their friendship, after All Alastor could never love another person, he was incapable of it.

But he wasn't incapable of it, you weren't an exception to Alastor's Alastory-ness, and he wasn't an exception to your you-ness

Neither you or Alastor were big on the whole romance thing,

You, in life didn't care much for it preferring to focus your time and energy on blackmailing folks and saving enough money to do whatever your heart desired and Alastor was similar, only instead of blackmail and money it was his radioshow and murder.

And that didn't change after death, even after you met Alastor.

You honestly couldn't pinpoint when you and Alastor fell for each other, it came slow like a horror movie where a serial killer was coming up behind the victim, no one noticing the killer until it was too late,

It got you first, at first you thought he just got bumped up from a good friend to a close friend, then a best friend and that's why you were so fond of him,

Until you started wishing to do unholy things,

Like holding hands, or petting his ears!

The minute you figured out what the budding feelings that had begun to weave themselves inside you,

you resulted to shoving them down, hopefully hiding them away until they disappeared completely, or until you gaslit yourself enough that they never existed in the first place, that it was just heartburn or something,

but that didn't happen, they just got stronger up until the point where it hurt, until you had to physically distance yourself from Alastor in hopes they subsided.

Alastor on the other hand, had it slightly worse,

For him it didn't hit him in small gaps like it did for you, it hit him all at once,

he legitimately thought he had somehow gotten deathly ill, perhaps he had gotten cursed? Maybe he wasn't as fond of you as he thought and instead hated your guts for whatever reason?

But if that was the case why did he yearn for your presence? Especially after you for some reason distanced yourself from him?

Why did he desire to chat with you? Why did he wish to cook you a meal and have a lovely dinner with just the two of you??

He eventually went to Rosie, his most trusted friend with this problem

his smile was strained when Rosie laughed at his troubles and told him he was, shockingly more then likely in love.

He acted like he was just told he had an incurable disease, like rabies.

Eventually he got to the point where he decided he should just take you out, in a murder way he couldn't afford a weak spot that he couldn't control,

However he couldn't go through with it when you showed up unannounced to his home, a frown present on your lovely face, you acted like a guilty child who had just stolen a batch of freshly baked cookies, you carried two folders and a board, and you asked him to hear you out as he let you inside,

You began to set up what one can only describe as one of those conspiracy theory boards, only instead of a conspiracy it was explaining how you managed to fall for Alastor, that he didn't necessarily have to return those feelings, and why he should let you live after knowing this information.

Thankfully before you could begin setting anything other then the board up and a few skeins of different colored yarn out, Alastor grabbed you by your shoulders and reluctantly told you that he adored you for some forshaken reason.

And that was that, nothing was ever officially labeled until a ring was put onto your finger many many years later, but it was comfortable, you stayed true to each other, you never went further then a light kiss or a cuddle, the two of you would be deemed odd for a couple, sometimes invalidated by folks who didn't know how to mind their own business, but they were usually dealt with quickly.

You adored Alastor, and He adored you in return.

And that was evident as he twirled you around his radio tower, Vox's hotwheel mini camera watching from the corner.

Soft jazz played as you were pulled back into Alastor's arms, a laugh escaping your throat as you smiled at him, taking a quick moment to reach your hand out and hold Alastor's face, planting a soft smooch on him before pulling away.

At that point Vox was disturbed and a peng of jealousy ran through him, one, because no one wants to see their sister doing that to their ARCH NEMESIS, and second of all, Out of everyone in hell, why did he have to choose you?

Yes you were nice, he guessed, but he's seen you be a feral little menace when the two of you were young, Alastor could do better [No he couldn't]

What did you have that Vox DIDN'T? Sure you didn't have a giant tv for a head but you also weren't an overlord like he was, you didn't have the connections he did, you didn't have a whole company that dominated the tech industry, you didn't HAVE what he did.

But you did have what he desperately wanted

You have Alastor's heart,

You get the adoring looks, you get the whispers of pure affection, you get to dance with him, you get Alastor.

No matter what Vox did, Alastor would never look at him the way he did you, he would never give him the look of pure affection, he would never ask him to dance, he would never give him his heart.

And that tore Vox apart.

So If he couldn't have Alastor, Neither could you.

To him, You either needed to get redeemed quickly and go up above or you were going to be joining the Vee's, whether you liked it or not.

Good evening folks! Thank you for tuning in! I know I said Rosie headcanons where supposed to be up next but I ran into some technical difficulties [my writing app crashed and a big chunk of it got deleted so I am not happy about that] anywho, Vox is a funky TV dude and I like the implications that he's lovesick about Alastor,

I need to finish my Vox fic because he's toxic there.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x reader #alastor x you #vox x reader #alastor imagine #radiosilence

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dollwrites · 7 months

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𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!reader, noncon, bondage + gagging, cumming untouched, voice kink, degradation but also some praise, male masturbation, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟯 ∣ day four [ sampo koski + voice kink ]

“Oh my, I’ve not even touched you yet and you’re already so twitchy!”

it was embarrassing, to say the least. the way your body reacted to his relentless cooing and crooning. you hated it. in fact, you would’ve told him exactly where he could shove all those sugar-dripping syllables, had your panties not been stuffed in your mouth. you tried to work the fabric out a little at a time, but Sampo’s long digits had ensured that they were secure and deep in your cavern, forcing you to taste your own desire for that loathsome, loathsome man.

“Could it be that you’re imagining all of the not so nice things I can do to you, all tied up like this?” he teases, his emerald eyes sparkling with delight and glued to your exposed core. with your legs spread wide, ankles bound to a long, metal rod that kept them spread wide. there was no shielding your sex from his gaze, as unfortunate as that was. because you knew that he was watching every clench, every drip, every twitch. “You are, after all, completely and utterly at my mercy.” he flashes you a devilish smile.

what you return is a sharp glare, your brows knit together as you chewed incessantly on your own panties, hoping to saw through the lingerie with your teeth and be able to spit it out. because you knew, once you did, not only would you call him every low-down, dirty, rotten thing you could think of, but you knew of a catapult of spit that would have his name on it.

so far, however, no such luck. the cotton dries your mouth out, and what should’ve been sweats, were gurgled groans of faint protest.

“Hm? No?” Sampo asks with a Devil’s smirk, taking a step forward. his right hand juts forward and wraps his large fist around the metal spreader, pushing it upwards just a bit. it pulls your ass off the bed just enough to angle your unwilling yet needy cunt in his direction, and allowed the light to catch your sticky folds, your wetness glimmering against your own skin. “Then, why are you so wet? Because so far, all I’ve done is tied you up, spread you open, and told you…”

Sampo trails off, his eyes flickering with a sudden realization. the realization that makes his grin spread wider.

oh, no.

“Could it be that you enjoy the sound of my voice?” he stares at you, adoringly, with his toothy grin, and when you shake your head, he chortles, and runs his tongue around his lower lip, his gaze dropping back down to your pussy. “Are you certain? Because this pretty little cunt of yours is sparkling—“ your body jolts at his praise, your hole clenching and demanding to be filled. you clench your fists in frustration. Sampo saw the display, and elicited a delighted mewl. “Oho, so she likes praise, does she? To be called a pretty, little cunt? Soft, and warm. And we can’t forget tight, now can we?” he begins to giggle at how easily your body twitched and puckered at every word sang to your core. “A perfect hole like that, already milking like she’s supposed to, is meant to be fucked. But I have something much more fun, before we reach that point.”

you look up at him, hoping the fire in your eyes is enough to get your muffled grunting across.

Sampo seems to ignore your angry sounds, staring into your eyes as if he were a gentle lover, and he swoons. “I’m going to make you cum before I even lay a finger on you,” he says, matter of factly, leaning closer to you. the expanse of his chest was pressed against the bar, hoisting your ass higher into the air. “You’re going to listen to me get off, and you’re going to turn into a needy, dripping mess. Well, more so than you already are. Are you ready?”

“Nnnff!!”

it was the best you could do, shaking your head and thrashing wildly against your restraints, but you could tell in an instant that he hadn’t really been asking a serious question. it was another tease. because a moment later, he was fishing around in the open fly of his trousers, retrieving his cock and pulling it through the gap. you didn’t want to stare, but you noticed it was already starting to harden up in his grasp.

“Mm, I can’t help it.” Sampo murmured, breathy, as if he’d read your glance in an instance, spitting in his palm to lather his length in it. “When I see a pussy that pretty and needy start to picket up just for me, I start to get excited.” a low, rumbling sound bubbles in the back of his throat as he starts to stroke himself, his body close to yours, his stance wide. his cock was long and imposing, strong and leaving a subtle shadow on your belly as it hovers inches above you, his fist jacking back and forth. “Uhhh…” Sampo breathes out. the sound coupled with the slick smacking of his sticky fist kissing his base at a rapid-fire pace was almost too vulgar; your eyelids wanted to flutter. “That’s good.” he was stretching out his moans on purpose, teasing you with different variations of his taunting baritone. “Do you want to know what I’m thinking about right now? Hm? What is making my cock so hard?” without waiting for an answer, Sampo leans against the bar, trying to get as close to your face as possible. for a moment, you feel a wave of his breath against the apples of your cheeks, and you turn away, but he whispers, his voice thick with lust. “I’m daydreaming about plowing your little pussy, cutie. Uh-huh, nnn.. I’m going to pound you out so good that you’ll forget your own name. Just thinking about how perfect you’ll look hanging off this big cock like a little fuckdoll…” Sampo moans loudly, and the sound sends need storming straight to your core.

“Just watching you stretch…”

another needy moan, and this time, your cunt trembles, your swollen clit throbbing.

“Feeling you milk me…”

your muscles tighten up. your toes curl.

“Ahh, the way you’ll look so cute with the shape of my cock bulging out of your little tummy!”

your eyes want to cross.

he sounded so needy, and yet so wicked. his moans were all laced with the specter of a whimper, as if he hadn’t gotten off in weeks, and sounded delightfully depraved. not to mention the images he was forcing into your mind, and the visage of him jerking off right above your wanton pussy.

“I bet just listening to me moan and groan has got your tummy all in knots. Hnn, do you feel tight and desperate?”

you didn’t want to, and you tried to stop yourself, but you nodded, letting out a strangled moan.

“Mhm,” Sampo purrs, his grin slightly strained as his pace picks up. his hips had also started moving on their own, matching the rhythm of his wrist, fucking his hand with reckless abandon. “That’s so cute… and so pathetic. Getting all worked up, right on the brink of cumming, just because you hear me moan in pleasure. You must be a truly naughty little thing if the sound of your rival jacking off, explaining how he’s going to turn you inside out, makes you this needy. You’re like a starved animal.”

Sampo seems to really love watching you writhe and whine, seeing your eyes start to roll back as he moans and grunts, because his swollen cock was twitching, too, now, and he was close to his own climax. “Fuck yes.” he hums, gripping the bar tighter with one hand, the other still pumping himself silly. “Close… close…” his pleasured voice now sounds strained, and with a weak gaze, you peer up at him to see his brows furrowed and his jaw tight. the chase for his high taking his toll on his composure. a red tint kisses his cheeks, and his broad chest heaves up and down. “Mmm… you like these sounds, hm? When I’m right on the edge, about to cum for you? About to cum all over you? Yes?” he chuckles, though it sounds as though it gets stuck in his throat with a soft gasp as he bites down on his lip, and allows himself to gargle on a long, euphoric growl. “I can see it all over your face, fuckdoll, that lust… go ahead, erupt for me! Push me over the edge!”

it was as if Sampo had conjured your orgasm out of thin air, and ripped it out of your body with so much force that it left you stunned and twitching. you’d released before you even fully processed that you were peaking, and were trembling and panting, trying to regain your wits when you heard Sampo stutter and moan, splattering his own release across your stomach with a happy sigh.

“Such a pretty sight,” he breathes out, and releases the spreader to allow your butt to hit the mattress again. you bounce slightly, before laying there, defeated, with his throbbing, dribbling cock looming over you. “All trembling and panting, leaking juices all over my bed. If you reacted so deliciously to my voice, I can’t wait to see how you’ll fare when I actually get to play with your greedy, little pussy.”

#sampo #sampo x reader #sampo x you #sampo smut #sampo koski #sampo koski x reader #sampo koski x you #sampo koski smut #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail smut #honkai x reader #honkai smut #honkai star rail

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sanakimohara · 4 months

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“DDLG” H. H. Pt. 2

A/N: Someone made this request and I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED IT WHEN I TRIED TO ANSWER THEM….i almost had a breakdown from the guilt (I’m so sorry love) but here’s more DDLG Hyunjin for you guys 🖤

[ MDNI ]

++++++

Dom Hyunjin has you spoiled rotten to the core. His card lives in your hand and he loves it. “Daddy, look what I bought today. It comes with this too..” you show off everything you get and he’ll sit there admiring it all. His spending isn’t deemed a reward for you. No, it’s more of a natural instinct of showing his affection towards you, and his giving nature only makes you softer for him. He gives and you take.

Dom Hyunjin is a borderline hard dominant. He lets you get away with a lot of things if you’re in public but when you’re alone you pay the price tenfold. ‘Sorry’ doesn’t work on him often. Acts of submission do. “You want to be forgiven that bad?” “If you’re really sorry do as your told, baby doll.” “Stop crying. You asked for this, remember?”

Dom Hyunjin will mock you. He loves it, mirroring your pathetic pleads and dramatic pouts. He could be pressing your tear stained face into the pillows, laughing softly as you cry and tremble underneath him. You know he doesn’t mean any harm by it but the notion that he could care less turns you on more than you care to admit.

Dom Hyunjin gets possessive so easily. He’s not particularly fond of anyone eyeing you for more than two seconds. When you’re out together he’s got a causal grip on you. An arm around your waist or a firm hand on your lower back. Doesn’t matter to him as long as you’re in line of reach. It’s comforting on a surface level but you know he’s being discreetly territorial.

Dom Hyunjin likes to get a before and after shot of you everytime he fucks you. It’s a common habit you don’t entirely understand but find oddly endearing. Seeing your makeup so elegantly done just to be ruined with tears and a mixture of cum brings a smile to his face without fail. He’ll sneak in some pictures of you sleeping, all worn out, and curled into his side.

Dom Hyunjin prefers you wear skirts or dresses around him. If you add stockings/thigh high socks with it he inevitably trails after you all day, waiting for the perfect moment to bend you over and get a much a deserves taste of your cunt. You can try and swat his hands away or telling him “No, not now daddy. I’m busy.” He won’t hear a word you say, pushing your skirt above your hips, and kneeling to kiss the curve of your ass. “Don’t mind me then.” He murmurs against your skin, tracing your slit over your lace panties with two fingers, and you give in with a soft moan.

Dom Hyunjin sends you gifts when he’s away. Some are sentimental, intricate flower bouquets, personalized jewelry, and anything he finds particularly cute that he knows you’d like. You have a growing collection of designer products/clothes he’s given you. Never, once have you complained or wanted to return something because he doesn’t make a mistake…ever.

Dom Hyunjin lets you play with the rings on his hand when you’re bored, secretly adoring the way your fingers glide through his, and the slight size difference between them. Sometimes you don’t realize you’re doing it as a way to cope if you’re anxious.

Dom Hyunjin gives you random head pats when you’re completing a task. “Look what I made, daddy! Lix helped me..” you beam a smile at him, holding up the platter of fudge squares you’ve made, and he can’t help but to praise your efforts. “They look amazing, baby.” He compliments you softly, tousling your hair just a little as you giggle quietly, and hold up a piece for him to taste. He’ll gladly take a bite, letting half of it melt on his tongue before offering what’s left to you. “Open,” he commands gently, smiling as your lips fall apart, obediently accepting the treat with a smile.

Dom Hyunjin styles your hair a lot. Especially during aftercare -he’s adamant about brushing through it a hundred times, gentle as ever with you, and tying it back with a bow/ribbon of your choice. You doze off quickly each time, genuinely comforted by the gesture. Even in public he’ll play with your hair, tucking a strand behind your ear if it’s out of place, or fluffing it to frame your face perfectly.

Dom Hyunjin travels with you frequently. Flying from country to country is common for you two but doing it together is exceptionally exciting. It’s not everyday you get to spend a week in Paris before landing in Japan the very next day. “Can we go to the Sanrio store in Tokyo tomorrow?” He looks up from scrolling on his phone, squinting as he thinks of an answer, and eventually he nods in agreement. “We can. After the campaign shoot though. How’s that sound, baby doll?” You grin at him and rush to plant a kiss on his cheek to which he steals one from your lips. “That works for me…”

Dom Hyunjin doesn’t set too many rules for you. He’s aware you’re capable of taking care of things yourself, that you’re independent, and headstrong. However, when you do want to release control to him the transition is seamless. He can read you like a book when it happens. How quiet you get in public or gravitating to him at events. The slightest expression in your eyes tells him everything he needs to know. He’ll do any act of service for you, lace up your heels, order your meals, and carrying your belongings or bags. Princess Treatment galore.

+++++

Like I said someone requested this but I accidentally deleted it when I tried to reply to it….🖤 so I’m really sorry and I hope they see this and know it’s for them 😭🖤

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

His “Yes…” in the audio….???? that’s exactly how he’d sound saying it to you. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk. 🖤 Credits to the creator fr 🖤

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