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orchidyoonkook · 6 months

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The Devil Wears Valentino | MYG

Title: The Devil Wears Valentino

Pairing: Devil!Min Yoongi x (F)!Reader

Rating//Genre: (M) | One Shot, Spooky AU, Supernatural Creatures AU, Not Quite Friends to Lovers, Age Gap, Technically Slice of Life, Angst, Smut and Fluff

Summary: Having known him for years—from a small mistake on your behalf, and a favour on his—you’re one of the only people he seems to be able to put up with for company. Certainly the only one he’s half-way decent with. But what’s more surprising to you is that despite his name, reputation, and the fact he’s always joked he’d have killed anyone else by this point, is that he’s never once tried to cause you harm.

Actually, he’s almost…protective of you. In his own weird way.

And obnoxiously flirty.

Warnings: language, violence, tae is a menance, drinking and alcohol, Min Yoongi as the Devil -> Lucifer Morningstar? we dont know him, mentions of murder, mentions of torture, mentions of rape -> Sal's an ass and he deserved what he got, somewhat graphic gore/horror (yoon tries her best but she's not very good at spooky), slight POV switches, one (1) mention of reader having hair, fluffy in parts,

Explicit warnings under the cut.

Word Count: 10,488

Release Date: October 31, 2023, 12:00PM

A/N 1: Ahhhh! Welcome to my very first halloween special!!! I wanted to do something for my favourite holiday this year, and I've had this title written down without a plot for maybe just over a year? So I'm really excited to finally use it!!

A/N 1.5: Thank you to my absolute darling @katykatmeow for beta'ing this for me so late in the night. I adore you so much

A/N 2: The whiskey glass and whiskey are hand drawn vectors because I'm a glutton for punishment. Why do I keep doing this to myself.

Explicit Warnings: ahaha uhhh, unprotected sex (dont be stupid) kissing, breast play, fingering, oral (f rec), groping, pet names (sickening amount), dirty talk, praise, slight degredation, hair pulling (m rec), spitting, handjob, body worship, cowgirl, from the back, missionary, a lil bit of crying, spanking, size kink, voice kink, hand kink (look, he's a lot okay, don't blame reader), sl*t/wh*re mentions, multiple orgasms, creampie, I think thats it? Yoon went a little bananas with this one.....

Slow jazz floats through the air of the club, wading around the modestly-sized venue. You’d say it was almost cozy, but with the expensive feel of the place, cozy just didn’t seem like the right word.

Intimate. That would be a better choice.

From behind the bar where you stand, to the velvet couches in the back covered by decently dressed lesser demons, piano plays alongside gentle drums. Dark navy cushions soak in their conversation of effective torture methods, discussed like stock market trends, they dissect the best way to decapitate someone so you can instill the most pain and suffering.

The answer is always with a dull knife and from the back, blindly. Never knowing when the next cut will be is half the agony.

You try not to pay attention to that though, because the only thing you need to know is that they drink Vodka Tonics and lesser demon number four’s glass is looking to be on the emptier side.

He’ll be back for another soon.

While you wait for his arrival, the rhythmic notes continue on, gliding along shiny, black floor tiles. They pass the burgundy leather booths that face the stage, full of vampires trying to relive long lost youth in the old melodies played. They turn to stone just a little bit more with every passing minute they’re forced to live, keeping no company besides the pleasant burn down their throats and ever present melancholy.

Banshees listen in from the mezzanine, only ever soft spoken when they’re here. Covered by velvet draped ceilings that dampen sounds to the outside world, the women of three distinct ages sit at tall tables. The young in heels and short dresses, proudly showing off their youth, while the elders choose more elegant wares, content as they can be in their skin, considering their blood soaked pasts.

Banshees tend to discuss privately amongst themselves, ordering walk up service so as to never mingle with the men on the floor. You can’t blame them, especially knowing how they all got here in the first place, but they’re polite when they enter, greeting you kindly despite what you are to them. The trays you bring up for them never waver from their drink of choice, The Irish Sour.

And then there are the Djinn, who come in mostly just to pass the time. Sitting by themselves at the bar, or in no more than groups of two at a far table, they never interact with anyone other than the bartender or themselves. Djinn are increasingly solitary creatures of the night, with the fear of their kind lessening in mortals, you’re starting to see less and less of them as the days pass, and you’re almost sad to see them go.

Djinn are your favourites. They come in, order, keep to themselves, and then leave. It’s a nice change from the usual light conversation you’re forced to keep with patrons. Plus their orders are always easiest, as they only drink virgin. It’s a bit of a blow to the bar aspect of the establishment, but they come for the atmosphere, grateful to have a place they can exist with like minded folk—even if they don’t interact. There’s a comfort in familiarity, you guess.

Occasionally some other creatures of the night mix into the masses; fae, chimera, leprechauns, goblins, et cetera. All dressed in their nicest clothes to accommodate your work's dress code, all here for peace from their day jobs, to drown their sorrows, or somewhere in between.

Some come for an hour, others come for the night, but it’s mostly just your regulars who tend to remain, as do their drink orders. It’s a relatively easy job, and you don’t mind the company.

Most of the time.

You’ve just finished serving the lesser demon from earlier when your coworker bugs you for the hundredth time tonight.

“I don’t get why you're so hellbent on this, Y/N. If you’re closing, he’s coming. Because he always comes when you're closing. It’s simple math.”

“No he doesn't,” you dismiss Taehyung, a cocky but rather beautiful incubi, annoyedly. Taehyung is the type that knows he’s pretty and uses it to his every advantage, including being able to say whatever he wants and get away with it. And it would piss you off except it works on you too.

Fucking incubi demons…

You were one of only two mortal bartenders, the other being Lia, a cute blond who only works here for the tips. The boss likes to keep a couple humans on staff in case any wanderers stupid enough to come inside a den of nocturnal, evil creatures didn’t catch the vibe and immediately fuck off.

You’d be surprised at how shitty some people's self preservation instincts are.

You asked your boss once—a very large, very well built, very well connected vampire—why he bothered having a layer of protection for them. His only response was: “Business is business.”

Plus he knows he can’t have a trail of bodies that lead directly to his club's front steps, so he keeps a couple of mortals around just in case. This way, with you two here, there was always someone who knew all the drinks the humans could have, and someone to keep all the greedy eyes around the venue in check, as you have banning and kicking out privileges.

Because where you saw Kin, your regulars saw food, a hunt, or a job. They saw something to be taken advantage of or killed. They saw poor, weak, pathetic little mortals that should’ve been eradicated centuries ago had their ancestors been smarter.

They are the superior beings in their eyes, your race is just a bug to be squashed under their proverbial boot.

It makes you worry what they think of you. Is the only thing that stops them from devouring you whole the fact that you make their drinks just the way they like it, that you have a use in serving them? Or do they respect you enough now that you understand how to act around them and know what they’re like? What they are.

You worry, but you’ll never know the truth because you aren’t stupid enough to ask and show weakness. They can smell that shit from a mile away, and all it does is paint a 30 foot wide target on your back.

“Yes he does. I bet you tonight's tips he’ll be here in the next two hours,” Taehyung presses.

And ooohh, a night’s worth of tips, bragging rights, and winning a bet against Tae all sound way too good damn to pass up.

“You’re delusional,” you say, holding out a hand. Tae grabs and shakes, as you agree to his terms. “And you’re on, don’t come crying when you lose.”

There’s no way he’ll show up. It’s Friday night, the night of sin, he’s going to be up to his eyeballs with work…stuff.

“Easiest money I’ve ever made,” Taehyung grins, and with the confidence in which he does, you begin to second guess your own.

It’s not that you did or didn’t want him to show up, it’s just that your relationship with him is…complicated at best. You never really knew how to navigate a conversation with him outside of surface level banter and jokes, but it’s always been like that with you two.

Having known him for years—from a small mistake on your behalf, and a favour on his—you’re one of the only people he seems to be able to put up with for company. Certainly the only one he’s half-way decent with. But what’s more surprising to you is that despite his name, reputation, and the fact he’s always joked he’d have killed anyone else by this point, is that he’s never once tried to cause you harm.

Actually, he’s almost…protective of you. In his own weird way.

And obnoxiously flirty.

But you could never. Not with who and what you are, and who and what he is.

Regardless of how you fight the heat down in your cheeks every time you see him, and how your heart flutters against your will in multiple places in your body at even the thought of being near him.

Regardless of the fact that you shut him down every time he suggests anything more than an over the bar conversation, and the way your panties seem to always dampen in his presenc–fuck.

It’s happening again. Stop thinking about it, stop, stop st–wait. You turn, seeing the violet ichor in Tae’s eyes and you know the bitch is using his power on you. You flip the asshole off and he chuckles.

He’s been trying to get you to change your mind ever since the first time he saw you deny yourself.

“You know I can tell when you’re hot and bothered right? Incubus, remember? It’s literally part of who I am.”

To which you think again, fucking incubi…

Your most infamous regular is, to quote your favourite tv show, ‘the bane of your existence and the object of all your desires,’ and you will never, ever entertain his annoying, disgustingly hot ass more than you already do. Not after everything you went through the first—and last—time with a creature of the night.

You learned your lesson.

So instead, you try to think of him more like an old friend. The kind that’s actually really old already, but looks amazing for his age. The kind that makes shivers run up your spine when he talks to you in the deepest, most gravel turning voice you’ve ever heard, that you also ignore out of pure self preservation. He’s the kind that you shove out of your thoughts at night when your alone and in desperate need of relie—Fucking Taehyung!

You whip your head around to search for the violet eyed incubus, only to see him across the bar helping some stocky vampire. And you’re about a hair's breadth away from ripping him a new one in front of said vampire when the idle hum of chatter in the bar ceases and the band’s calming music falters into missed notes and a cymbal crash that's too hard; awkward, painful silence remaining.

From behind you, you can hear the front door close, followed by light footsteps that grow louder and louder. Only once the seat directly behind you creaks with the sound of being occupied, does the chatter and music resume.

Which can only mean one fucking thing.

You just lost all your tips for the night.

Tae’s shit eating grin as he looks over your shoulder confirms it.

Fuck.

“Excuse me,” the bottom of the ocean floor speaks and you make a conscious effort not to react.

“Ardbeg Single Malt, neat?” You throw over your shoulder, not bothering to look just yet.

You know precisely where he sits. And he knows you know.

“Sounds perfect,” he responds, and you focus on ‘looking for the bottle.’

You know exactly where it is.

No one else will touch it.

Taehyung busies himself with bringing an order of Bloody Mary’s down to a booth on the floor, knowing he’ll be burned alive if he so much as looks at a whiskey glass.

No one serves him but you.

But more importantly, nobody disrespects you in front of him. A lesson your ex–see: dead–coworker, Sal, learned the hard way. His burn mark is still seared onto the floor behind you.

You’d almost felt bad that day, but he was a lust demon who touched you without your permission, hit on you every five minutes, and when you said no, treated you like shit.

You’d been close to dousing him with vodka and lighting him up yourself, but the man tapping his fingers on the bar behind you beat you to it 15 seconds after sitting down one night last year.

After shoving Sal off you for the fourth time that night, he was pissed. Whispering obscenities to himself loud enough so you would hear,

“Fucking stupid mortal bitch, maybe next time I’ll just drag you into an alley do whatever the fuck I want. Nobody here’s going to stop me. And maybe then you’ll learn to shut up with this dick in your cunt and my fingers down your throat, huh? Leave you to rot with the garbage where you belong after you’re all used up.”

He didn’t take another breath.

A single burst of blistering flame had Sal reduced to ashes in seconds. You’d felt the heat from it, but your skin remained burn free, safe from its dangerous blaze. The lust demon from then on only existed as a smudge on the ground to be walked over.

“Thanks,” You’d said.

“It’s where he belongs,” he responded.

Grateful for his kindness, you entertained him more than usual that night. Engaged in an actual conversation, about your birthday of all things. You had no idea why he wanted to know, but you considered the information his reward for helping you, and he seemed pleased with it.

But he was more than pleased.

After years, you’d revealed something to him. Something personal.

He took it as a sign that he might be able to get you to change your mind one day, if he did everything just right. Having played the long game before, this was no different. The only thing different this time, was you.

Maybe it was the way you walked with such confidence, or the way you never cowered in fear around him. Not the day you met nor any day after. Or maybe you were sent by his father just to mess with his head. He didn’t care. All he knew was what he wanted, and that he was more than willing to wait as long as was needed to get it.

A nursery rhyme from your childhood plays in your head every time you see him. It never wavers, just like the eyes you can feel on the back of your neck, watching your experienced hands make his drink.

Quietly, you recite it to yourself while you grab the bottle;

‘One for sorrow,

Two for joy,

Three for a girl,

Four for a boy,

Five for silver,

Six for gold,

Seven for a secret never to be told.’

You pour, steady hand making it last as long as you possibly can to gain a few more seconds to compose yourself.

‘Eight for a wish,

Nine for a kiss,

Ten a surprise you should be careful not to miss,

Eleven for health,

Twelve for wealth,’

You put the bottle down and cork it before returning it to its place on the shelf. Taking a deep breath, you turn to finally face him, and change the wording of the last line to fit your situation better.

“One Ardbeg Single Malt neat, for the Devil himself.”

He snickers, “I always liked that nursery rhyme. It’s cute. Like you, Angel.”

You roll your eyes. To anyone else that would sound like a compliment. But coming from the Devil it’s more of an insult. One you know is meant in a playful way after all these years, crass in his humour, just like you. And you know he can take a little heat back.

“Wow, that’s a classic,” you grab a glass to polish, keeping your hands busy so they don’t do something stupid while you’re distracted. “Got one of those for you too, ‘Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?’”

He chokes on a laugh before straightening on the barstool and putting on a face. “I don’t think that joke’s appropriate.”

“Oh come on Yoongi, you come at me with ‘It’s cute, like you, Angel’ and I can’t poke back?” You ask, knowing full well his uncomfortable look is all an act. “I thought you didn’t have any feelings besides rage, lust and currently; insufferable flirting.”

You know the entire club listens in to your conversation.

No one calls the Devil by his first name.

Nobody speaks to the Devil unless spoken to.

And no one makes jokes at the Devil’s expense and lives.

No one except you.

What a funny little exception you are.

Yoongi drops the act, a sly smirk that sends bubbles to your brain, replacing it. “So you admit my flirting isn’t always bad. Must be doing something right then.”

You force yourself not to slam a palm into your forehead. Of course that’s what he got out of your sentence.

You aren’t going to make his ego any bigger than it already is.

“It isn’t working,”—fuck, yes it is—“if that’s what you’re asking. Can’t say I’m surprised though, I hear you’ve been out of the game for a couple millenia,” he quirks a brow at that.

Ooo, that means you’re nearing thin ice, haven't been there in a while…Let’s see if you can slide around a bit more without falling in.

“I mean, I’m sure you’ll get there eventually. If you stay consistent at your current rate of progress you could hit me up in,” you suck air in through your teeth and look at the ceiling, before checking a watch you don’t wear, pretending to think, “a thousand years?” You tease, a lilt in your tone. Because if Yoongi was going to make your shift this fucking difficult just by breathing near you, then you sure as Hell can do the same for his night.

He chuckles like the coals of a fire and you cross your legs behind the bar. Motherfucker…

“Someones got a mouth on them tonight,” he says, looking directly into your eyes as he takes his first sip, savouring the taste before swallowing. His tongue dips to his bottom lip for any remnants and you gulp, vision dropping for a millisecond—oh for the love of—and you finally notice what he’s wearing.

Much to your dismay and dwindling willpower, he looks fucking good. With only a white scarf to accent, the all black Valentino suit fits in perfectly with the bar’s dress code, as well as the long slicked back hair he’s only recently started to grow out. Just seeing it like this makes you want to run your hands through and mess it up.

You’ve always had a thing for men with long hair, ever since you were young.

Jack Sparrow, Madmartigan, even The Winter Soldier. And come to think of it, none of them were exactly the good guys in their respective universes either…

Nope! No. You can’t. You can’t.

You can’t for so many reasons, so many good and bad and everything in between reasons. You’re nothing more than a flimsy human while he’s the Great Immortal Evil. The person people whisper the name of for fear of incurring his wrath.

The King of Hell.

He’s the person that walks into a room and everyone balks under his gaze, terrified of what he may do. He’s killed millions with no mercy. Doesn’t so much as think twice to horrifically burn someone where they stand to ash in hellfire for breathing the wrong way near him. He lavishes in the screams of sinners, punished in their own blood and bones, beaten into a shell of who they were in the nine circles of Hell. Left gaping, broken and sobbing in agony for their suffering to end.

Yoongi is walking nightmares and visceral terror. He is merciless violence and brutality abandon.

Yoongi is living, breathing, unyielding death wrapped up in deceivingly beautiful packaging.

He is the epitome of someone you should not like, should not go near, and definitely should not want in the way the thrumming in your bones is telling you, you want him.

You have to stay away from him.

But that doesn’t mean you can’t flirt back a little.

As salaciously as you can muster, you whisper low, “But it’s nothing you can’t handle,” and you swear you see a hint of surprise in Yoongi’s eyes, followed by something so much deeper that you have to look away under the guise of checking for any newcomers.

It’s a dangerous game you’re playing. One you need to move the pieces of very, very carefully.

There’s a handful of people waiting to be served, but none disturb Yoongi’s service. So you’re forced and relieved to cut the interaction short. For both the waiting patrons, and your sanity.

“Enjoy the whiskey, Yoongi.”

Yoongi doesn’t bother you for the rest of the night, instead he watches you help the other patrons and make drinks. No one dares sit within three seats of him on either side, so the booths and tables fill more than the bar does, forcing you to do more tray work than you like. And you think you can feel those eyes on the back of your neck travel elsewhere.

Soon after he takes his last sip, Yoongi leaves far too much cash on the table to cover a single drink, and you know Tae won’t include it in tonight's bet. He rather enjoys being alive.

The first time he did this you tried to give it back, insisting it was too much. But one threat to Tae’s life had you accepting the outrageous amount he left you every time. Despite how much he gets on your nerves, you rather enjoy Taehyung's company on your shifts. And you didn’t want to risk having a new coworker like Sal again.

Thank you, Yoongi. You silently think to yourself every time he does. His tips are one of the only reasons you’re able to take care of yourself so well.

You live in an apartment you should not be able to afford on a bartender's wage. Eat well, buy all the brand name products for the skin care routine you could only dream of having as a teenager, and you’re able to get yourself a little treat every once in a while.

All thanks to the one man the world claimed was the purest entity of evil there was.

And maybe he is.

But not to you.

The rest of your night, and closing go smoothly. The journey home passes by in a flash and soon you’re flopping into your bed, asleep before you hit the pillow.

You dream of Yoongi and Hellfire and things only your subconscious will let you. The thoughts that you force away every time you see him.

The burn of his hands on your skin and his lips on your neck. The warmth that spreads over your entire body at the mere mention of your name from his lips. His tongue in places you wouldn’t dare allow him to even think about in the waking world.

And you wake from an orgasm he wasn't in the waking world to give you.

It’s the last Saturday in October, which means it’s also your birthday.

You found it rather funny that the one person the Devil could stand to conversate with was born on his night. Maybe that’s coincidence or maybe that’s fate, either way you didn’t care, because you had it booked off work and you were going to a bar and dancing with your friends, dressed up in the sluttiest costumes you could find.

Your recent visit with your birthday's namesake inspired your costume this year. Wearing the shortest, blood red leather dress you could find, the slits up the sides ran almost to your hips, and a corseted waist that made you feel sexy and fierce. You’d paired it with some velvet horns, a tail, pitchfork, crimson lace stockings and your most recent edition; red bottomed strappy stilettos.

They’d been your birthday present to yourself, courtesy of Yoongi’s most recent tip. And needless to say, you felt hot as shit. No one could tear you down tonight.

All your friends met at your house before ridesharing down to a club. It’s loud, hazy, and filled with other Devil’s Night party goers as you arrive, smoke lingering in the air and you can feel the wave of dancing coming from further inside.

Someone buys you your first round within a minute of being let in, lemon drop filling your taste buds as you knock back the shot. Another is ordered immediately after the first, it runs smoother and tastes like chocolate as you make your way to the dance floor.

Aside from you, your friends are dressed up as a wild mix of characters. Rey is dressed as Daphne from Scooby Doo, Yaejin is Nezuko from Demon Slayer, Bryce is a gender bent Legolas from Lord of the Rings, Declan is Donatello from the Ninja Turtles, Cam is a ghost, and Trin is a character from a book you’ve never read. Something about dragons and magic and vermin—or was it venin? Whatever. But they were in all black and had used silver hair spray on the tips of their hair.

You let the alcohol make its way through your veins as you dance, loosening up. The DJ mixes songs together in a way that never has the crowd thinning out and you laugh as you move with your friends, swaying and rocking and grinding.

You needed this.

A night out just to let go, have fun, forget everything and hopefully get lucky by the end of it. It’s been a while since you’ve taken anyone to bed, and birthday sex sounds amazing the more the lemon drop, and what you finally learned was a tootsie roll shot, settle into your system.

You aren’t drunk by any means, but you are buzzed and having a blast. An orgasm sounds like the only thing that could possibly make this night any better. So you make your way around the dance floor, keeping one eye open for any potentials, but mostly just dancing with Rey and Cam. The others either grabbing another drink back at the bar or resting their legs in a booth.

“Babe,” Rey says, hands around your neck with Cam behind you, hands on your hips. You all sway to the beat of the admittedly sensual song playing.

“Yeah?” You ask, opening your eyes to meet hers and she leans in closer.

You can hear the smile on her lips, “Major tall, dark and handsome at 9 o'clock has been eyeing you for at least a half hour. I say you ditch me and Cam and go enthrall the man with your company for a little while. We’ll be fine on our own.”

Heating at her words you’re excited to see who’s gone and done half your job for you tonight when your eyes stop dead on target.

In a private booth in the VIP section, blending in far too well with the mortals around him, he wears a button down black satin top and dress pants. Thick silver links adorn his neck, complimenting the hoops in his lobes as well as the mouth watering rings on his fingers and you’re quite sure the bottoms of his black leather shoes match the red of your own.

Yoongi.

God he looks good. Unfairly so. And he carries that knowledge with him in his movement. His confidence never wavering like a mortal’s would.

Aside from two twisting black horns you’ve never seen before protruding from his deliciously tousled hair—hair you still want to pull on until he’s making sounds no ones ever heard come out of his mouth before, now moreso than ever—Yoongi is a darker version of yourself.

Except for him, it isn’t a costume, it’s real, real, real.

And he looks like sin incarnate.

Fitting.

Fuck, you’re so screwed. What were all those reasons it could never work again? The ones that explain why you shouldn’t take the Devil home and let him fuck you into next Sunday?

Suddenly, you can’t remember any of them. Not when Yoongi’s eyes never leave your red-clad form as he sips on what you know to be subpar whiskey. Your core melts into lava at the way he looks up and down, taking all of you in like you’re the one thing on this planet he needs to survive, and he’ll stop at nothing and spare absolutely no one until he gets you.

Rey gives Cam a look and their hands drop, allowing you to almost float over to where Yoongi lounges, maneuvering between bodies undulating to music that’s being deafened by the heartbeat in your ears.

When you reach him, you leave a somewhat respectable distance between you two, a step down from the dias the booth sits on.

Seeing him so much clearer now, you almost whine. How does he look even better up close? You want to sit on his lap, his face, have him bend you over the table then flip you over and feast like a man starved.

Fuck! No, you can’t. And you also can’t blame Tae for those thoughts either, he isn’t here.

They were all you.

Maybe his plan was working after all…

“What are you doing here?” You manage, grateful that you hadn’t had more to drink, but even more grateful for the ones you did. You needed a little liquid courage right now, even if it turned your thoughts into gutter sewage.

What he doesn’t know can’t hurt you…right? You just have to keep a lid on it. The one that’s loosening the more you look at him.

“It’s your birthday,” he says, producing a small black box wrapped with a bow. “I have a gift.”

He…he got you a present? He’s never done that before. But then again, before last year, he never knew when it was.

“You remem—I—you didn’t have to get me anything,” you stutter ungracefully, mouth trying to keep up with your racing thoughts. “I already got these shoes with the tip you left me last time,” you say, extending your leg to show off your newest purchase. The action reveals more leg than you meant it too and he catches the garter you have pulled around your thigh.

A fire ignites in his eyes at the sight, and you can feel their sparks everywhere he looks. Starting at your toes and moving all the way up back to your pretty irises.

“I’m flattered by the way,” he says. “In your costume choice.”

Huh? You look down and heat rises to your cheeks in a way it never has before. Oh fuck, oh fuck. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!

Here you stand, before the actual Devil—horns out in all their glory—dressed as him on his namesake night.

Of course this would happen to you, of course it would. This is what you get for fucking around. You found out. And you don’t know whether to be mortified, beg for forgiveness, or laugh yourself hoarse.

Going with none of the above, you choose to play it off instead, the way you always do when he manages to fluster you. “Consider me inspired by how recently I last saw you,” you say, taking the single step up the dias and twirling for him.

You show every angle of your costume you can, letting the booze in your system do its job of making you more confident than you currently are.

“What do you think?”

Yoongi stands, taking the two strides needed to be face to face with you, his voice is quiet and even, so only you can hear.

“May I touch?”

You don’t hesitate.

“Yes.”

Yoongi reaches behind you and pulls the fake tail from the back of your dress, then the pitchfork from your grasp and throws them into the booth, not caring where they land.

“Mmm,” he hums, placing his hands on your hips and spinning you once more. Lightning strikes every single nerve ending where his fingertips meet your body.

This time when he speaks, his voice is touched with the bit of demon that’s inside of him, dragging its claws along the floor of the 9th circle of Hell as he growls, “You’re perfect.”

Your heart does backflips and cartwheels and nose dives all at once. You’ve never heard him sound like that before, and if your panties weren’t wet before, they definitely are now.

Tugging gently, he guides you to the booth, sitting first before dragging you over his lap, knees meeting his hips. One of his hands rests on your thigh while the other reaches for something you can’t be bothered to figure out because oh my god, oh my god, you’re straddling him. Your straddling the Devil, dressed as the devil and probably already looking semi-fucked out while you do. This is probably a bad idea—no. This is definitely a bad idea. But you also have absolutely zero plans to stop literally anything that’s happening.

The gift box makes a reappearance, and he hands it over to you.

“Thank you,” you say automatically, trying and failing to ignore the fact that both of his hands now rest on your thighs. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…..

Undoing the little black bow, you open it, revealing a delicately simple necklace. Its light weight chain holding a small pink stone pendant.

Beautiful.

“Pink Tourmaline,” Yoongi says.

“My birthstone,” you reply.

“Your birthstone.”

You stare at the little crystal, cut and polished to perfection. Not a single flaw.

“Yoongi I—I don’t know what to say. It’s incredible…Thank you,” you take it out of the box, profoundly grateful you decided not to wear a necklace tonight. “Could you help me put it on?”

“Of course, Angel,” he agrees. But this time when he says your nickname, it’s different. Like an unholy vow made only to you.

Makes you wonder what he promised.

Regretfully removing yourself from his lap, you turn around, only to be dragged back down by strong fingers.

Your ass is now flush against his dick, and it’s taking everything in you not to tease. Whether you’d be teasing him or yourself, you don't know, nor do you care. All you know is that friction can be a good thing if you want it to be. And you're starting to want it to be.

Lifting your hair for him, Yoongi fastens the necklace around your column, and to your complete and utter doom, places a gentle kiss at your nape. The simple contact makes you quietly moan, and you feel a twitch under you.

Ohhh, this is bad, this is so bad. But you can’t bring yourself to stop him. Not when his hands roam up and down your back, your sides, your hips. Exploring, feeling, learning. You dissolve into the touch, welcoming every whisper of pleasure they bring.

What is he doing to you?

“Angel,” Yoongi purrs in your ear.

“Mmm?”

“Would you like to dance?”

Fuck would you ever, but wait—

“Are you asking me if I’d like to Dance with the Devil?” you muse.

Yoongi chuckles lowly, understanding the meaning behind your ask.

“Is that something you’d be interested in?”

“Yes.”

You feel more than hear the dark rumble coming from his chest before he gently taps on your thigh. And you get up quickly.

“That’s a good girl,” he says, and fuck could you ever get used to him saying that to you.

Fingers laced in his, he lets you guide him to the dance floor.

Both of you ignore what the DJ plays, instead moving to the rhythm you feel like. Slow, sensual, a hand on his neck while you grind into him. Fast and heated, bodies touching any and every place you can get contact. You’re putting on quite the show for anyone brave enough to watch. And you know at least a handful of the eyes you feel on you are your friends’.

They don’t know about Yoongi.

They don’t know about the nature of the clientele at your job either, like every other human. They don’t know you're dancing with the most dangerous and volatile man in the room. And it’s better that way, because if they did, your ass would’ve been hauled out of the club and in a rideshare the second anyone saw him.

You’ve never been more thankful for the figurative wall between worlds. And the fact that you stand on both sides.

You brush up against his hardening dick and fuck, that’s it.

You’ve decided.

To hell with your reasons. To hell with the constant flirting and overuse of will power.

To hell with letting your anxieties and your moral compass and your conscience get in the way of the one thing you’ve been denying yourself for years.

You spin in Yoongi’s hold, looking straight into the darkened eyes of the most forbidden man you could ever want for yourself, only to see pure desire staring right back. It’s all you need before you’re crashing your lips to his, taking anything and everything you can get before one of you comes to your senses and pulls back.

But his grip on you tightens like a vice, pulling you closer, bodies flush amidst the dancing crowd. He’s magnetic in his want, lifting a hand to the back of your neck and tracing the seam of your lips with his tongue.

You let him in without hesitation and he nearly swallows you whole with how he invades your mouth, claiming it for himself. It makes you moan and he lets up, if only to let you breathe for a moment, and you take this reprieve to whisper in his ear, finally giving in to what you crave more than anything.

“Let’s go to yours.”

“We should go to yours, Angel, mine’s a bit harder to get to.”

Because his is on another plane of existence. Not exactly a taxi ride away. At least not one you can get at the curb of the club.

“Riiight.” A small dose of water washes over the fire in your core, and it’s like he can sense it because immediately, he’s pulling you back in. Nothing but teeth and lips and tongue, animalistic in the passion you’re displaying for everyone to see, the flames increasing tenfold.

Fuck, you don’t want to wait.

And apparently neither does Yoongi.

“Do you trust me?” He asks.

“Yes, but what does tha–”

“Close your eyes for me, Love.”

Any and all arguments fade on your tongue at the new pet name. So much warmer than Angel, so much more affectionate.

So you close your eyes for him, no questions asked. Because you trust him. You trust the Devil.

You trust Yoongi.

“That's a good girl.”

One hand goes to the back of your neck, the other your lower back as he kisses you gently. So gently you think it means something more, but the sounds of the club are fading away, and he’s leaning you down like he’s going to dip you before your back meets something soft.

Are you closer to a booth than you thought? Is he really going to take you here in front of all those people?

But when you open your eyes and your bedroom at your apartment fills your vision, you stiffen immediately.

What?

“I—but we were just—and now we’re he—and you—,” you stutter, amazed and unable to get the thoughts out fast enough before another takes its place. You manage a, “How?” and he catches on.

Not halting his actions, “Consider it a job perk,” he explains, nipping at your neck. You let out a groan as he continues his way down your column towards your chest and you relax into his touch.

“Teleportation, in simple terms, but it’s a bit more complicated than that.”

Despite his mouth on your skin, you somehow find the clearness of mind to ask, “Did anyone see?” Thinking about your friends and the potential hundreds of onlookers.

Yoongi’s hands rest at top of the zipper that goes the entire length of your dress, allowing for both easy putting on and quick removal. Fingers tug gently on the slider, eyes meeting yours for consent. You nod, and he answers your question as he drags it down your body torturously slow, savouring every moment he’s worked so hard to get.

He’s going to earn this privilege you’ve given him, if it's the last thing he does.

“No. And your friends won’t worry either.”

You don’t care how he knows that, not when he’s pulling off hot leather and devouring your curves with coal burning pupils. The cool air of your room causes goosebumps to rise everywhere, and your arms fly to your head, covering your eyes as you’re reminded you’d forgone a bra tonight.

There was no room for one without it squishing your tits too much and ruining the look. So with your dress gone, Yoongi has a front row seat to your nearly nude form, a blood red lace thong the only thing keeping you semi-decent.

Years of pining and denial have led up to this moment and Yoongi almost doesn’t know where to start now that he finally has you exactly where he wants you. That feeling doesn’t last long though.

Wasting no more time, he takes a breast into his palm, squeezing and massaging while he lowers himself to the other, lapping the nipple of the one neglected. His tongue swirls over the pert bud, sucking it into his mouth fully and you arch into his touch, reveling in the warmth he spreads across your chest. Hands reaching for the sheets above your head for something to ground you.

“Shit,” you can already feel your pulse in your ears, thundering behind your sternum, and booming lower. He’s barely touched you and you’re already so gone.

He switches his hand and mouth, soothing the other breast with the sinful muscle he’s teased you with after all these years drinking whiskey. And by god if you don’t immediately think what it could do in other places. He’s had thousands of years to practice and the gush you feel in your panties lets you know exactly how you feel about the idea.

Using his free hand, Yoongi traces down your back, rounding your ass and squeezing hard enough to make you hiss in pleasure before settling on the back of your thigh.

You can barely stand having his hands so close to your molten heat without having any contact, and it leaves you begging, “Please…Please…”

You feel the curve of his lip quirk as teeth gently scrape the sensitive bud, gasping when he pulls off.

“Please what, Love?”

“More,” you pant. “Please. Anything. Everything. Please just touch me.”

“Mmm,” he’s back at your neck, inhaling your scent, one hand still on your thigh while the other holds him up by your ear. “Pretty Girl has manners after all, huh?”

“Oh fuck you.” you bristle, but it seems to be the reaction he’s looking for. A deeper, sluttier part of you awakening at the words you want to prove both wrong and right.

“There she is.”

Diving back into your neck, Yoongi trails wet, open mouthed kisses down, down, down. And even though you’ve never been so wet, so in the moment, and so unbelievably turned on before, the human part of you wins for a second, as you try to close your legs.

They’re pulled back open in an instant, his eyes never wavering from yours as he says, “Don’t you dare get shy on me now,” a kiss to your inner thigh. And then the other as he kneels before you.

Yoongi places each foot on either of his shoulders and you’re surprised he’s kept on your garter, stockings and red bottoms, their heels digging into his flesh. You wonder if that hurts at all, but by the way his eyes flutter and almost roll into the back of his head at the pressure they place on his frame, you think he actually likes their sting.

“You’re the most exquisite creature I have ever seen. Absolutely no part of you could ever be undesirable to me.”

His earnest tone makes you believe him, convinces you, and you’re once again pliant in his hold, opening up for him.

“Look at me,” he says, and you do. You stare directly at the Devil between your thighs. The King knelt before your lowly mortal form. “You are the most powerful person in this room, understand?”

You nod, but that’s not good enough for him.

“I need to hear it.”

“I understand.”

“Understand what?” He pushes.

“I’m the most powerful person in this room,” and it feels bold to say in front of him. But watching the way Yoongi’s expression fills with pride makes it also feel good. He wants you to feel like you’re the one in charge.

“Remember that,” he says, before ripping your underwear off and throwing them on the floor, feasting his now wholly black eyes on the sight of your dripping pussy.

The more he loses himself in you, the more of his true form reveals itself.

“Fuuuckk,” he whispers more to himself than anything. “So wet…”

Your core is tormented and throbbing at the back and forth between the cold night air and Yoongi’s hot breath and you whine, “I just bought those!”

He spares you one completely unsympathetic look.

“Don’t care. I’ll buy you more,” a deliciously ringed finger slides along your drenched folds and you’re gasping. “I’ll buy you the entire fucking store if it means I get to see you like this.”

Your voice is airy as you give in, any and all outrage gone. “Oka—ohhh!”

His mouth is on your cunt before you can breathe in the oxygen you so desperately need. He’s not holding back and your movements are not your own as you squirm. An arm rounds your pelvis holds you down, keeping you there as he devours you whole and shows you no mercy.

“Fuck, fuck, oh my god Yoongi,” you cry out, having never felt anything like this before. His tongue circles your clit as he sucks, then glides down, penetrating your opening with thrusts that make you lightheaded.

Your hands fly to his locks, pulling and pushing him down further until you're pretty sure you’re drowning him in you. Your fingertips graze his horns and it’s just a reminder that this man is definitely not human. Definitely not someone you should be letting suck your soul out through your pussy. And that makes this whole situation that much hotter.

If he minds where you touch, he doesn’t say anything about it, only groaning as he repeats his motions to get you near your peak, again and again and again until you're quaking against your will and your body is vibrating with every throb from your core.

Every single nerve ending you have is awake and being put to good use, he’s making sure of it. The dam that holds your release is starting to crumble and you don’t know how much longer you can last like this before you’re screaming bloody murder under his grip.

“Yoon…Yoongi—fuck,” you stutter, staggered breaths from your trembling chest loose as you try to verbalize, “C-close. S-so close.”

He hums, and teases a finger around your entrance, circling a few times before pressing in and up to your g-spot. The simple action undoes you and you're coming with a force you can’t even begin to describe. The waves crash down, over and over and you're moaning and cursing his name at the same time, knowing it’s going to be the only one you’ll think of in this situation from now until forever.

He guides you through the last shockwaves as you come down, and when you’re too sensitive for him to continue, you drag him up to your lips, tasting his efforts on your tongue.

“Need you now,” you rush out between kisses.

“Not yet, Love,” he says, pulling back just enough to reach a hand between the two of you.

He slips two fingers inside and swallows the resulting moan from your lips as he goes so deep enough you can feel his rings proding your opening.

“Gotta stretch you out for me first.”

Your hands are back in his hair, nails scratching the nape of his neck as he begins to scissor you open expertly. He growls into your neck at the sensation and that confirms your suspicions of him liking a little pain with his pleasure. So you scratch further down his neck, onto his shoulders and back and you dig a heel into his thigh.

“Fuck, Angel,” fingers stuttering for a second. “Don’t do that unless you want me to come right now.”

“And if I do?”

“Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“Because the first time I come, it’ll be with you around my cock, soaking the sheets with your own.”

Head rolling back, his words going straight to your clit. “Fuck, okay.”

“Now give me another one, Pretty Girl,” he says, picking up speed with his digits. “I know you can, pretty little slut takes my fingers so well.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck…

You can feel it coming this time, building and building. He uses his thumb to rub over your sensitive nub and it has you unraveling under him, screaming out and almost sobbing at the convulsions your body makes. He takes your mouth with his again, consuming your pleasure in every form he can get.

And once you come down, you’ve had it. If you don’t have him inside you within the next 2 minutes you’re going to lose it.

Ripping at his shirt, you're fumbling with the buttons. “Fuck, take this off, and those,” you say, abandoning his shirt for his belt.

Yoongi chuckles, low and sinful, “Bossy,” but gets up, and begins removing the outfit that got you into this situation in the first place. You take off the remnants of your costume as he spares you no peace of mind, the way you did him, taking off his pants and boxers in one go, freeing his mouth watering bulge from its earthy confines.

“Oh fuck me,” you say at his size. He’s big, girthy and you’ve never wanted someone inside you so badly before.

Yoongi smirks as he crawls over you, but you stop him with a hand. “Wait,” you throw a leg over his hip, and flip the two of you so you’re on top. “Let me do this.”

“Whatever you want, Angel.”

Picking up his cock, it sits heavy in your hand as you give him a couple strokes. He hisses at the contact and it only spurs you on, gathering as much saliva as you can, you open your mouth to spit, rubbing it all over his shaft and head, mixing it with the precum dribbling out of the tip.

“Fuck—”

Your 2 minutes are up. Lifting your ass, you guide yourself onto him.

“Oh my fuck, oh fuck,” you say as you slide down slowly, the stretch still very much there as he bottoms out. “Big—ohh, shit—so big.”

Yoongi’s not faring much better, eyebrows pressed together, but eyes devouring the spot where your bodies meet. His breathing is so laboured you’d think he just ran a marathon.

“So tight, Love...Fuck, look at you.”

The delicious sting subsides and you start to move, slow but purposeful thrusts that have him kissing your cervix every time. Fuck he’s so deep, deeper than anyone else has ever been. And once you get a rhythm going there’s no stopping you. You become a force of nature as you bounce on his cock without abandon, taking this for yourself. You don’t know why, but you feel like you have a point to prove and by god you’re going to make it.

Because if the Devil chose you, you’re going to make damn sure he doesn’t regret it.

“Fuck, fuck you’re doing so good,” he rasps, throwing his head back into the pillows, eyes shut in pure bliss, murmuring. “Feels so good.”

His praise pushes you farther, riding harder, grinding your clit against his pelvis, owning both your pleasures.

You’re the most powerful person here.

You are the one in control despite being on top of arguably the most powerful man on the planet. It makes you feel safe and strong and invincible.

And you want to continue, you really do, but your legs are starting to give, so you let him know.

“Ass up for me then,” he says, and you listen, climbing off of him and wincing at the feeling of him slipping out. He gets behind you, lining himself up again and this time it’s much easier as he sinks in, both of you groaning at the contact.

Yoongi hands go to your hips, gripping and squeezing and molding the globes of your ass as you anchor your cheek to the bedsheets.

“That’s it, Pretty Girl, all the way down for me.”

His first thrust has you seeing stars. You're nothing and everything as he continues, but you need more. You need to not be able to speak. To walk. You need to have every thought fucked out of your head. You need him so deep you’ll feel it for a week afterwards.

“Faster,” you beg. “Harder, please.”

“There are those manners I was looking for,” he says and picks up his pace.

You’re incoherent, saying things you’ve never dared to utter out loud before, making admissions you swore to take to your grave and Yoongi is eating up every single last one of them.

Because this is about you. This is about proving years of your denial’s fruitless. This is about him and how you make him lose every ounce of self control he has when he’s around you and how badly he’s wanted you since the day you met. This is about ruining every other man for you, making sure you know what true pleasure feels like, know how you deserve to be treated, and hearing his name on your lips when you come. When your cunt clenches so hard he has to fight tooth and nail to milk every ounce of bliss from it.

This is about him wanting to hear him make you feel good. Needing to hear him make you feel good.

This is about you.

And he can feel you starting to clamp up again, can feel you getting close. So he wraps an arm around your waist, fingers going straight for your pussy.

You shriek, body consumed by the even strokes he delivers as well as the smooth circles around your most sensitive spot, and he revels in it. This is what he’s been dreaming of, what he’s desired over everything else.

You, underneath him in so much pleasure you’re almost non-verbal.

Perfect in every single way.

“Taking me so well, dirty girl. Love the feeling of my cock splitting you open?” he hears a muffled cry and you nod your head. “Knew you would, knew you could take me.”

He delivers a smack to your ass and he feels you clench, so he soothes the battered area before handing out another, soothing that one out too.

“You’re so good for me, pretty little whore so greedy, sucking me in. Why’d you make me think you didn’t want me all these years, hmm? Was I not good enough for you?”

You bury your face in your sheets. Well that certainly won’t do. So he slows his fingers as he reiterates. “Was I not good enough for you then, Angel? Am I good enough for you now?”

“Yes,” you mutter, barely loud enough to hear.

“What was that?” he slows again to a near burningly slow pace, soaking in the feel of you around his fingers and dick. It feels like a place he once called home.

“Yes!” you bellow. “So good…so good to me…more than enough.”

The praise fuels him, and he picks up the speed of everything, cock pounding you into the mattress, fingers rubbing an achingly mind-blowing pattern on your clit. It pushes you over the edge for the third time tonight, your fluttering cunt around his dick almost has him losing it. Almost has him coming undone with you, but he manages to hold it back.

Not yet.

You're silent in your screams this time, overwhelmed with the feelings, fingers nearly ripping your sheets in half at how hard it hit you. How hard you contract around him.

Oh he’s never going to get sick of this feeling.

Ever.

And instead of guiding you down this time, he removes himself quickly, flips you over on your back and inserts himself once more.

He needs that feeling again. Needs you again. You claimed him for yourself whether you knew it or not all those years ago, he was simply following orders. He was yours the second your eyes met for the first time and he’s never looked back since. No one was ever good enough from that moment on, not a single creature on any plane of existence.

There was only you.

Yoongi’s never felt anything so pure and so sinful and so right as you pulsing around him does. He exists only for this feeling. Only for you. It took a couple thousand years, but at least now he knows.

And so he doesn’t slow down, pushing you through your oversensitivity.

It’s time for him to finally claim you back.

“I can’t,” you beg, “it hurts.”

“Not for long, Pretty Girl” he says in his lowest registar. “You can take it, I know you can. Give me one more, I know you have it in you.”

Yoongi’s noticed his words have almost the same effect on you as his motions, so he uses them to their full potential. And as he can sense your fourth orgasm about to land, you surprise him by whispering directly into his ear and raking your nails down his back as hard as you can.

“Only for you, Yoongi.”

His thrusts stutter.

“Fuck!”

He’s coming.

He’s coming hard. With you, with your name on his lips. It's violent and visceral and vicious and vibrant. It’s beautiful. You’re combined divine deliverance.

It’s the first time he’s said your name.

And it’s something he’s going to keep locked away in his memory for millenia to come as he covers your inner walls in the most sickeningly sweet shade of white.

You’re relentless, milking him over and over and over for all he’s worth, not letting up until your body is ready too, ruthless in your quest for ultimate euphoria and he takes it.

Whatever you want. Whatever you need.

It’s yours.

He’ll make it so.

At whatever cost to him, you'll get it. There isn't a doubt in his mind as you finally come down, body lighter, eyes glazed over, devastating smile on your lips.

He’s the first to move, going to the bathroom and grabbing a warm, wet cloth to clean you up. You’re blissfully spent, unable to get up even if you wanted to, limbs like jelly, still in a brain fogged haze.

You got exactly what you wanted.

He cleans his release from your form, naked save for the pink stone he gave you around your neck. Then tosses the cloth in your hamper and lies back down, covering you both with sheets. You cuddle up to him, tossing a leg around his torso, and lying your head on his chest. Contented.

And he’s silent until he can’t stand it any longer. He has to know.

“What changed?”

“Hmm?”

“What about tonight made you change your mind?”

You take a deep breath through your nose. “I…stopped fighting it. The feeling like we would never work, the feeling that I would never be good enough, that we were too different,” he listens intently as your fingers trace patterns on his chest, explaining. “And I was sick of denying myself. It’s my birthday. Shouldn't I get whatever I want on my birthday?”

That seductive smirk makes an appearance.

“Yes.”

“Plus you looked to damn fine in that outfit. A girl only has so much willpower, you know? It’s easier at work when there’s a bar and my job between us, but there was none of that tonight. Just the shots in my system and my unwavering desire to ride your face.”

Yoongi laughs, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen something as beautiful as his smile before.

“Next time,” he says. A promise.

You fall back into a comfortable silence that has you thinking.

“What about you?” you ask.

“What about me?”

“Why am I the only one you like? The only one you put up with.”

He ponders for a moment, thinking about how to phrase what he wants to say.

“I think about the time we met often. There was something about you that was different that day, and I’ve never been able to pinpoint exactly what, but when I saw you I knew I would never think of you the same way I do everyone else. There was something special about your gaze in mine, your company, your soul.”

“My soul?”

“Mhm.”

“You’ve never asked for mine before.”

“Never needed it.”

At that, you joke, “Is there something you’d sell your soul for?”

“You.”

Before you can say all the nothing in your head at his answer, he takes a deep breath that has you rising and falling with it. Something about what he’s going to say next is going to have heavy importance to him.

You just know it.

“You… made me—make me…want to be better. Do better.”

You’re speechless. Not the kind you were moments before. No, you’re truly and genuinely speechless.

You never expected anything like that.

You knew your presence in his life carried a different weight than others, a different air. It’s why you could speak so casually, insult him, and exist near him without fearing for your life. It was something no one had seen from him in thousands of years.

Kindness. Patience.

The man who’s job it is to run the universes torture capital, punishing those who deserve it without an ounce of mercy for eternity and killing those who looked at him the wrong way. The physical entity of the word evil, wanted to be better.

Because of you.

“I don't know what to say.”

“You don't need to say anything,” he kisses the top of your head, tender. “Having you with me is more than enough.”

You can do that.

“Okay,” you say, craning your neck to kiss him. It’s long, languid, and full of emotions you don't want to acknowledge right now, there’s too many of them to sort through in your post four orgasms brain to be able to process properly.

Tomorrow you can start. Right now you just want to bask in the afterglow of the most amazing birthday you've ever had.

“So this wasn’t a one time thing?” Yoongi clarifies.

“It definitely wasn't a one time thing,” not a chance in Hell.

He was yours now.

The Devil was yours.

King of the Underworld, god among men, catastrophe breathing evil was yours. And it brings the biggest smile to your face.

“Oh thank fuck.”

“Not thank God?” you tease.

Yoongi groans. “Do not bring my father into this.”

A/N 3: As always, thanks for reading, loves. Xoxo, - Yoon <3

2K notes · View notes

rynbutt · 14 days

Text

mansplaining. | spencer reid.

request: @a-second-hand-sorrow "hey queen, just wanted to say i absolutely love your spencer stuff, you write him so well!! as a fellow aussie I was wondering if maybe you could write something with spencer and an australian reader? just something cute and silly, maybe with him infodumping everything he knows about australia ahaha, love your work!"

you can find my other fics on my masterlist.

requests are open!

cw: fem!aus!reader, none really, fluffy, silly fr

a/n: short and sweet hehe

Henry held your hand tight as you guided him to the elevator.

JJ had just gotten back from a trip to Michigan for a case. She ended up sleeping for a couple hours before she had to go back into work again, all before little Henry woke up for the day. Since she hadn’t seen her son in almost three weeks, you thought it would be nice to bring Henry to her with some lunch as a surprise.

You had been JJ and Will’s nanny for almost 8 months now. Since Will had returned to work and JJ’s job was still incredibly demanding, they started looking for a nanny for their 3-year-old son. You just so happened to be looking for a job and to finally put your experience as a nursery assistant back home to good use.

“You excited to see mummy?” You asked Henry as you stood in the elevator, his little FBI visitor badge far too big on his little body.

“Yeah!” He replied excitedly, jumping up and down while still holding your hand. You had taken Henry to pick up some lunch at JJ’s favourite place then let Henry pick out a pastry for each of you to have for dessert.

“Alright, remember, you have to hold on tight to my hand, okay? There are lots of people around,” you reminded the young boy, crouching down to his level.

“Uh huh,” Henry nodded, his tiny hand squeezing yours.

The elevator dinged and you gently guided Henry toward the bullpen, silently searching for JJ’s office. Henry stayed close to you as you swerved through the busy agents. You decided to ask someone who you thought looked vaguely familiar.

“Uh, Emily, right?” You gestured toward the dark haired woman sitting at her desk.

She glanced up at you, seeming to recognise you and little Henry almost instantly, “Oh hey! You’re Y/N, right?”

“Yeah, I was just wondering if you could point me in the direction of JJ’s office-”

“Did you know the Australian mainland extends from west to east for nearly 2,500 miles?” someone behind you said, obviously hearing your Australian accent.

Emily rolled her eyes and looked at you, “don’t mind, Reid.”

You turned around to look at ‘Reid’, he was cute, probably the young doctor JJ told you about. You pointed at him, “Dr. Spencer Reid, right?”

He ignored you, “And most of the rocks forming the foundation of Australia are from the Precambrian and Paleozoic time… about 4.6 billion and 252 million years ago respectively,” he looked up at you, “yes, I’m Dr. Reid.”

“Mm,” you hummed.

“I’ll go get JJ for you,” Emily sighed, frowning disapprovingly at Reid. You sat down next to Emily’s desk, picking up Henry to sit him in your lap.

“Where are you from?” Another man asked, “I’m Derek Morgan, you must be Henry’s nanny?”

“Yeah, I am… I’m from Melbourne,” you smiled.

Spencer interjected, “Melbourne isn’t said like that. The spelling negates that.”

“Kid… she’s from there, I think she knows how it’s said,” Morgan retorted.

You just chuckled softly, “I’d love to hear you mansplain my country to me, Dr. Reid.”

“I’m not mansplaining,” Spencer replied, seeming offended.

“You kind of are,” Morgan added, leaning back in his chair.

“Mansplaining!” Henry exclaimed, making both you and Morgan laugh. Henry bolted from your lap the moment he saw his mum. You stood up to greet JJ as little Henry tackled her in a hug.

“What are you guys doing here?” JJ asked, cuddling Henry close to her.

“We thought we would surprise you for lunch,” you smiled, “Henry picked some pastries out for us too, for dessert… I hope it’s okay?”

“No, it’s perfect,” JJ replied, “it’s just what I needed honestly,” she sighed, giving you a side hug as she guided you to her office.

Henry sat on the floor playing with a few toys you brought along for him while you and JJ talked, “so, that Dr. Reid? He’s a character.”

“You met him, huh?” she leans back in her chair with a laugh.

“Oh yeah,” you replied, “he seems…” you trailed off.

JJ nodded knowingly, “Yeah, he’s like that.”

“He’s cute though,” you shrugged with a small laugh.

“Mm, I’ll make sure to tell him that,” JJ teased.

“Don’t you dare,” you retorted quickly.

You spent the last half an hour of JJ’s break sitting with her and Henry on the floor helping him do a puzzle he had left from the last time he was here. It was nice for JJ to see her son, she missed him terribly but she knew he was in good hands with you.

JJ had to get back to work shortly after and she squeezed Henry in a tight hug, reminding you she might be late again tonight, which you didn’t mind.

“Say ‘bye-bye’, mummy!” You held Henry’s hand, waving at JJ.

“Bye-bye, mommy!” Henry called, waving his little hand around.

You spun around, guiding Henry through the bullpen again before an idea popped into your head. You turned on your heel at the side of Spencer’s desk.

“Hey, Dr. Reid?” You asked softly.

“Yes?” He peered up at you.

“Ever heard of drop bears?”

a/n: i hope you liked it! i know it was a short one but i think it's funny. another chapter of pierced coming soon >:)

#criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #x reader #spencer reid fluff #cm spencer #dr reid #spencer reid x reader fluff #australian reader #spencer

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remember-the-fanfics · 3 months

Note

I loved your gen-z!overlord! headcannon! What about the same character X Alastor or X the Vees! I liked how you wrote a bit about the character with Rosie!

Added Carmilla for funies

Alastor

• You constantly make fun of his oldness when he moved to the hotel

• He finds you entertaining and annoying, would've killed you in the beginning if Rosie wasn't already found of you.

• Thought you had the same idea with the hotel.

• Figured out quickly when he brought it up and you got pissed at him.

• Bounds over his interests of the chaos you make.

• Found out his disinterest with relationships and more physical stuff quickly

"Oh so you're AroAce? Cool."

"What are the words you just say?"

• Trying to get him to know what certain slag is from your time, nows use it incorrectly to fuck with you.

• Minus after his tussle with Pentious.

"I yeeted him, correct?"

"Ahhh! Yes! Ahaha!"

• Shown you some Overlord powers that you had no idea that you had.

• Accidentally blow up the wall a few times.

• Calls you dear child or little annoying one. Depends on his mood.

• Calls him old man to annoy him or weird ass deer man when he pissed you off.

• Decided you're a good allie after finding you laughing at what he did with Vox.

"The TV was buffering, that was really funny and good."

"Thanks for the compliments, my dear.

• Didn't change the fact when you were ready to kill him for making a deal with Charlie.

The Vees-

• The only one you on the good side is Velvette

• Vox and Valentino just keeps nice with you not to get Velvette pissed at them.

• You've tried to change the channel on Vox's face once. You're not allowed to hold any remote when visiting anymore.

• You made fun of Vox after his fight with Alastor.

"You were buffering! Guess you overheated?"

"Oh fuck off."

• Have a business deal for your territory to get Vox's stuff for cheap.

• Told him about the advancement that happening before you died.

• And had to endures something for him after Velvette dressed you up.

"Hating everything right now."

• But he is the only one that makes TV or well anything with Technology

• Everyone keeps you away from Valentino after you heard how he treats Angel Dust.

"I just want to talk with him, I just want to kill him."

• You had already didn't like him anyway.

• Creepy ass Moth motherfucker is the only 'nickname' you call him

• Valentino enjoys making you uncomfortable

• If he cross a line, you are killing him

• But then he holds Angel Dust soul above you so you don't actually kill him.

• Doesn't mean you wouldn't hurt him

• He eventually tries not to cross the line, tried of getting beaten by a child according to him.

• Velvette is the only reason you vist, mostly to her studio.

• Being a backup model when she wants you too, only in private.

• Refusing to actually model infront of people.

"I would die... again."

"Don't be dramatic about it."

• Gives you clothes that are in at the moment if you hang out in public

• Understand most of your references

• Willing to fuck someone up if they give you a weird look when she's with you.

• They all hates that you go to the Overlord meeting

• Does enjoy when you spill some tea about what happens

• You're cool enough to associate with the Vees but not enough to be one, not that you would join when you only get along with one and half of them.

Carmilla Carmine-

• Has a motherly instinct with you even though you're powerful enough to be an Overlord.

• You mostly come over to hang out with her daughters, whose usually busy working so you end up helping them.

• Ends with her mothering you when she mothers her daughters.

• Teaches you how to fight after seeing fighting so recklessly.

• Only because someone tried to fight you when her and her daughters were around.

• One of the Overlords that has been in your territory, enjoys how you keep it orderly.

• Surprised with how you run your deals and with how many Sinners come to you for help.

"Oh that was less than normal, you probably scared a few of them away."

• Makes sure your kindness isn't viewed as weakness to anyone.

• Doesn't let you cause any chaos in her presence.

• She gives you a stare that reminds you of your own mother/guardian.

• Causing you to stop before you even start.

• Odette and Clara enjoy your company, reminds them of a less annoying sibling.

• Checks up on you after exterminations, will invite you to wherever they hide but you don't usually don't leave your territory during

• Doesn't like that you get along with Velvette or any of the Vees.

• You were there when the exterminators showed up, ready to go all demon on them to buy time before Camilla showed up, Clara and Odette had to make sure you didn't still tried to fight by pulling you away with them.

• Sheltering them in your own hiding place for the rest of the time.

• Sworn to secrecy, by a pinkie promise.

"Thank you for being ready to defend my daughters at any cost."

"It was no big deal, you showed up before anything actually happened."

• You only showed up because you knew where they were hiding and saw how it quickly went to shit.

• She tried to get you to promise not to do that again, you denied it.

"If that ever happens again, I'll do it in a heart beat. So I can't."

• Realizes quickly you wouldn't let anyone mess with people you call your friends

• Even if meant facing certain death by angels.

#platonic hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin carmilla #hazbin vees #genz reader

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borathae · 7 months

Text

"Yoongi can’t talk right now. He is so ruined and it’s only been seconds. This is going to be the biggest torture you ever made him go through. Being touched and licked should have prepared him for your pussy, but it didn’t. When you played with him, Yoongi noticed the spell but it felt more like very intense edging to him. He is starting to realise that this is so much more."

Pairing: Vampire!Yoongi x Witch!Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, Smut, domestic Fluff

Warnings: switch!Yoongi, switch!Reader, this goes from Dom to subbiest!Yoongi, he is all cocky at first but then turns into the whiniest baby, i love when men submit :), he spanks her casually and talks about putting her over his lap, it’s not in a sex related context but with heavy sexual undertones, she is such a tease when she subs ahaha, and a sexy demon when she Doms, explicit flirting, dirty talk, istfg the tension between them, a lil bit of dry humping, sex spells, magical orgasm control, strength & size kink, she lifts him onto the counter to feel him up, stripping, he sits on her lap as she gives him a handjob, edging, praise, good boy kink, she calls him kitten, he calls her Mistress, begging, sexy possessiveness, messy nipple sucking, blowjob, deep throating, CBT, masochist!Yoongi, she rides him, his big vampire cock makes an appearance, so much cum besties, subby boy tears, his fangs make an appearance too, she fucks him into non-verbal subspace, dollification in the sense that he can't move anymore cause it feels so gooood, this is both the kinkiest sex ever but also deeply emotional for him, you know me there's gonna be an emotional conversation at the end, they're in love :(

Wordcount: 11.4k

a/n: listen besties, you know my thoughts on them. i can't form any more words. i just love them and i want them to be happy always 🤎

“My love?” you say, sitting down next to him and draping your arm over his tummy.

He was lounging in his living room, writing lyrics in his notebook when you interrupted him.

“What do you want?” he asks, not looking up.

“Why do you think that I want something?”

“You’ve got your needy princess voice on.”

“I don’t have a needy princess voice”, you mumble with a pout.

Yoongi lowers his pen and gives a look, cocking his right brow up.

“Even if I do”, you give up, “you can at least give me a chance to voice it.”

He lowers his book to his lap and turns just a little so you are facing him better.

“I’m all ears.”

“Okay so”, you begin by taking his hands and bouncing on the sofa excitedly, “I’ve been thinking and I wanna show you something.”

“Okay?”

“Here. This”, you place a piece of paper into his palm, “read it.”

Yoongi sighs in defeat and reads whatever secret you put onto the paper. He looks attentive at first, but soon his expression changes into utter surprise and shock until landing on confusion.

“Where did you get this from? I didn’t show you that yet.”

You snicker mischievously, grabbing his thigh to shake his leg.

“What do you think of it?”

“I wanna know where you got this from. That’s not the magic we’ve been practicing.”

“Tae. He had this really interesting book on sex magic and he gave it to me and I went through lots of spells with him already. This was one of them.”

“Princess”, Yoongi says in his scolding voice, lowering his eyes at you, “what did I tell you about doing new magic behind my back?”

“Technically you said that I knew enough control these days that I can feel safe in myself.”

“Yeah and then I followed it up by telling you to discuss new magic with me before trying it. Perfect control doesn’t mean being master of all magic. You can still get hurt or hurt others. This is crazy”, he says, lifting the piece of paper to wave it in the air, “you’re not ready for this kinda stuff.”

“But I am.”

“What do you mean?” he squints his eyes, “princess, what did you do?”

“I’m only gonna tell you if you promise not to get mad.”

He squints his eyes even harder, making it difficult for him to see. But he doesn’t need to see clearly right now, to see the utter mischief in your eyes. You may pretend to be sorry right now, but you aren’t. You are completely and utterly confident in your past sins and Yoongi is meant to accept them all. He loves that you feel safe enough with him to feel no fear in confessing to him, but he also hates that your trust in him means that you will act reckless way too frequently.

“Fine”, he grumbles through gritted teeth, “I won’t get mad.”

“Okay so, I practiced with Tae. Many, many times until I was good at it. Then I practiced it on Tae and at first it didn’t work, but the second time we tried it I was able to control it for ten minutes. And by the third time we tried it, I managed to do it for an entire session.”

“Fucking hell, this is giving me a headache”, he murmurs, massaging the bridge of his own nose, “what else? I get a feeling that’s not it.”

“Of course not. I did it a few more times with Tae and it went splendidly with all of them. And then I did it, okay so remember how Kook and I went on a camping trip?”

“You did it to Kook?!” Yoongi gasps, “are you outta your mind? Princess, don’t do that.”

“No, it’s not like that. I did it to him and it went well”, you calm him down, taking his hands, “it went really well. So well actually that I gave him a Ripper high without blood.”

Yoongi gawks. The silence between you and him is heavy, but not uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry, you did what?”

“I gave him a Ripper high without the blood, just by controlling his orgasms and making him cum really hard.”

“Stop fucking with me.”

“I’m not. This actually happened. Ask Kook.”

Yoongi studies your face with distrust in his eyes.

“Go on, ask him”, you stress, shaking his arm.

“No, don’t be weird”, he whines and shakes you off, “I’m not gonna ask him that. Goddamn it princess, I wanna be so mad at you right now. You’re so reckless. Do you even have an idea what could have gone wrong? What you could have done? What-”

You silence him by kissing his lips. Deep and passionately. With your hands cradling his face and your tongue tasting his surprised gasps. Deeper. You need him to forget he ever wanted to be mad at you.

You climb his lap, hook your arms behind his head to pull him close. Yoongi sounds so utterly helpless underneath you. His thighs keep pressing together and his fingers cling to your body desperately. How obviously ruined he is. Just from simple kisses.

You break them because you know that you’ve got him enchanted.

“Nothing happened”, you whisper.

“If you think that I’m just okay with it because you kiss-”

You kiss him again, even deeper than before.

Yoongi shakes you off, “princess, stop that. You-”

You pull him back into the kiss, silencing his growl of complaint by stuffing his mouth with your tongue. His fingers twist your jumper at the back, his throat produces a small keen of helplessness. His tongue tangles with yours. He couldn’t even control it happening. It was instinct.

Your fingers begin scratching him behind his ear. He’s sensitive there, resulting in his chest to rub against yours as he arches his back.

He’s distracted. Good. Your plan has worked.

You break the kiss again, basking in the desperate sigh he lets out. His pouty lips chase you. You know that he wants more. Good. He can’t think about scolding you if he craves your kiss.

You flutter your eyes open once you are far away enough that you can comfortably look at him. He has his head tilted back and his eyes half-lidded. They switch between staring at your lips and gazing at your eyes.

“Don’t do that”, he whispers.

“Just needed you to shut up”, you answer him as your fingers play with his hair at the nape of his neck. You know how much this makes him shiver. He gets so weak because of hairplay.

Yoongi chuckles deeply, sliding his hands to your butt. He spanks you with both hands. Hard enough to make it tingle and to force your body to flinch into him instinctively. You even let out a surprised moan, arching your back.

“Say shit like that again and I’ll put you over my lap”, he warns, rubbing the tender spots on your pulsating buttocks, “understood?”

“You’re being unreasonable”, you argue, earning yourself another spank. You had hoped that it would. It burns so good, making you sigh his name.

“Are we understood?” he stresses as his big, manly hands rub your tender flesh. His touch feels addictive.

“Yes”, you get out, “yes, we’re understood.”

“Good girl. I like you so much better when you listen”, he praises and runs his hands along your waist. Up and down, back and forth. His touch feels like electricity on your skin.

“Yoongi”, you sigh, grinding on his lap instinctively. The spanking made you needy, “Yoongi, I wanna try the spell on you.”

His touch stops. Silence. His eyes are widened as he stares at you.

“I’m sorry?” he gets out.

“I wanna do it with you.”

“Why do you wanna do that?” Yoongi gasps with widened eyes.

“I don’t know, I just thought that it could be fun”, you say, shrugging your shoulders.

“You’re just gonna mess it up”, he is pretending to be against it. You can see it in his eyes.

“I know I can do it and you’re the only one who didn’t get to experience that yet”, you try harder.

“I’m three thousand years old. What makes you think I never experienced that before?”

“Because you were a brooding loner, who didn’t wanna be touched, for most of it”, you throw back.

“Wow”, he lets out and laughs. It’s heavy in amusement. His hands slide to your ass, taunting you because they aren’t lifting for a spanking again, “I was a perv for the first few centuries. You know that I was.”

“Yeah well, then you didn’t experience it with me yet”, you throw back.

Yoongi smirks. He’s so sexy when he does that you feel your heart flutter at the view.

“I’m busy with lyrics.”

“That’s okay. We can do it whenever you have time.”

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t act stupid”, he says and picks you up so he can lie you down on the sofa. He hovers above you, pressing his crotch against yours, “you’re so fucking wet already and you wanna act all innocent with me”, he rasps, rolling his hips into you, “as if I have the choice to still say no.”

“You always have a choice. You just gotta be stronger than your urges and stop getting affected by my smell.”

“You’re a brat”, he says as his amused smirk grows, “fuck, I wanna make you cry on my cock.”

You shudder. He’s driving you insane. He can be so dirty-mouthed if he wants to.

“You can only do that after I made you shake”, you tell him, earning yourself a deep growl from him.

“See? I have no fucking choice.”

“Yeah, you do.”

His eyes gleam in the thrill of this little game you are playing. He closes the distance between your lips, needing your kiss. The tug was too unbearable otherwise. He is so hungry for you.

You however, turn your head away. It results in his lips to mouth at your jawline. He lets out a chuckled whine, dragging his fangs over your skin without pressure.

“Don’t deny me”, he whispers deeply.

“I don’t wanna kiss right now”, you lie, twisting his hair playfully.

“Yeah, you do. You just get off on being cruel”, he rasps and nibbles on the spot where your jawline meets your ear.

“Maybe. Or maybe I just don’t wanna get lost in something which isn’t my plan.”

“Plans can change.”

“No”, you laugh and push at his chest harsh enough that he has to sit up. You sit up as well. Your legs are tangled together, your middles pressed closed. “Not this plan. I still have lots to do. Potions to brew and bottles to fill, so you still have a few hours to think about your answer.”

“And if I say no?”

“Then you can have my kiss and you can make me cry on your cock.”

“See? That sounds like a good plan.”

“Definitely, but I also know that you’re only pretending to be against my plan.”

Yoongi chuckles, cocking his right brow up.

“Brat”, he says, making you grin victoriously.

“Yeah, I know”, you say and untangle yourself from him. You get up from the couch even if Yoongi tries so hard to keep you with him. In the end however, his hands slip from your hips and he is left feeling cold and desperate while you look down at him.

You run your hand through his hair. Yoongi tilts his head back instantly, looking at you with half-lidded eyes.

“Think about it”, you tell him, “I gotta go back to work.”

You step back, but Yoongi manages to snatch your hand. He holds it tightly, guiding it to his lips so he can kiss it.

“Stay. Don’t go”, he begs, looking up at you with pleading puppy eyes.

You really want to stay. Hell, you want to kiss him and touch him and allow him to make you feel so good that you cry. But you can’t. The game of chase is too much fun with him and you know for a fact that Yoongi loves it just as much. There are many occasions where you turn each other on without acting on it instantly. The thrill of denial and the desperate hunt which follows, makes the sex all the more intense.

“I’m sorry, I can’t”, you tell him and slip your hand out of his hold.

“Princess”, he pleads, but you step back.

“I’m in my kitchen. Yeah?” you tell him and turn to leave.

“Fuck”, Yoongi drops in the sofa, running his hand through his hair, “you’re so fucking cruel.”

You are in the doorframe, looking over your shoulder. The playful smirk you send him, makes him crazy.

“See you later”, you coo and finally turn to truly leave.

You spend the next hours getting needier and needier. You just can’t stop imagining all the possibilities of tonight and as your mind produced vivid images of Yoongi being lost in pleasure, it couldn’t help but wander to past evenings with him. Shared moments of intense pleasure run through your mind and make you all the more desperate for him. It may sound peculiar, but you love those feelings. Thinking about sex with him is just as exciting as actual sex with him. You love swimming on those thoughts and especially when you know that your near future will include sexy times with him. The knowledge makes the fantasising just all the more sweet.

You managed to fill an impressive amount of potions in the time you thought about Yoongi.

You made a deal with Maël and the Seville pack to deliver potions for the upcoming blue moon next week. The wolves want to strengthen their lifespan and asked you to deliver the needed potions for it. The ritual will be a werewolf only event, but you are allowed to see the preparations with the explanation that you are Min Yoongi’s mate. It is honestly remarkable which places you are allowed to enter without question because you are his love. It is also very nerve-wrecking to think about which important people trust your magic because they know that Yoongi has his entire trust in you. You are obviously excited about all the opportunities, but if you told your past self what kind of life she would be living one day and what kind of job she would be pursuing, she would have called you crazy. You’re a witch, delivering potions to an established and highly important werewolf pack and you are helping your vampire Creator mate keep the peace between the supernatural factions. Goddamn, your life is awesome.

There is a sudden knock on your door. Your heart does somersaults in your chest, your knees almost give up on you. He is here. Yoongi is finally here. You check the clock. It’s not even been two hours. It felt so much longer than that however.

“Yes?” you call out, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

The door opens and in steps Yoongi. He seems to have taken a shower as he is in a rope and nothing else. The rope is black with golden dragons on the material and a golden belt. His long raven hair is tied into a bun.

“Oh? Hey there”, you tell him as calmly as possible, while your heart is almost giving up in your chest. You pretend to be busy with wrapping rope around the potion necks, whilst in reality you are just waiting for him to make a move.

The door locks.

Your heart races even more.

Yoongi is by your side within seconds, wrapping his arms around you from behind and connecting his lips with the side of your neck. His big hands squeeze you while his strong arms pull you against him. You stumble because of it, but Yoongi holds you with enough strength that you barely even notice the stumble. He sways you from side to side slowly, helping you instantly float on the sensation of being close.

You feel light-headed. Fantasising about being intimate with him made you so sensitive that his neck kisses feel like paradise right now.

“You were being fucking awful with the shit you pulled”, Yoongi rasps, “telling me all this shit and then just leaving. You think I was able to actually be productive these past two hours?”

You can feel his voice against your back. You press yourself closer because of it.

“I was just saying. It was just an idea.”

“Stop fucking around”, he warns, guiding his lips to the shell of your ear, “you knew what you were doing.”

You smile. Of course you knew what you were doing, that’s why you did it in the first place.

“And what is your answer?” you ask him.

“If we are gonna do this, I need you to promise me not to tell anyone.”

“Of course I won’t. It’s our secret.”

“Good girl”, he praises and turns you in his arms. He presses you against the countertop, staring you down with dark, enchanting eyes. You feel so drawn to him. You touch his chest.

“So how are we gonna do this?” you ask him.

“Not so fast. I’m not done yet”, he says and takes your hands to guide them behind your back. He steps closer this way, making you gulp as you look at him. He lowers his voice, caressing your wrists as he keeps you pinned, “I need you to promise me that if I won’t react as well to the spell, to not get disappointed.”

“What? You mean that you’re too strong for it? Like you are too strong for the rope spell?” you taunt, staring at his lips.

Yoongi tugs his brows together, making you snicker victoriously.

“Don’t worry about it, my love. It’s okay to be nervous”, you tease him as you rub his chest.

His frown grows, but you know not to be intimidated. He is just embarrassed to be caught in a lie.

You run your hands to the nape of his neck and begin to play with the hair he didn’t put into the bun.

“Anything else?” you ask him.

“You’re a brat”, he mumbles.

“I know”, you grin, “and you love it. Be honest.”

His frown softens. He steps closer, sliding his big hands to your hips. He lowers himself, you do the same. You are resting against the desk in a way so that your legs are between his’ and he can look down at you. Your weight, you support with your elbows propped on the countertop.

The tension is unbearable. Your lips are only a tilt of the head away from feeling the other’s kiss.

“Kiss me right now”, he orders in a rasp, staring at your lips with half-lidded eyes.

“And if I won’t?”

“I’m gonna get my kiss regardless.”

“Is that a threat?”

“This is the truth.”

You giggle, “oh Yoongs, you are so delightful.”

Yoongi gazes at your lips.

“Kiss me”, he whispers.

You lift yourself. Yoongi moans, parts his lips and closes his eyes. He is so eager to kiss. With a fluttering heart, you watched it happening. You giggle and lower yourself again.

Yoongi opens his eyes.

“Please”, he begs, cupping your cheeks. He lets his words swirl over your lips, “give me permission to kiss you.”

“You’re so cute”, you whisper.

Yoongi moves his lips as if he was already kissing you, letting out a pained sound.

“I’m begging you, allow me. Please.”

“I don’t even have to enchant you to get you begging”, you taunt, inching closer.

Your lips ghost over his’. Yoongi moans softly, squeezing your cheeks. He doesn’t move in. Not until you initiate it. The denial aches.

“You’re a delight”, you whisper and push him away from you

Yoongi stumbles back, looking so utterly hurt. You take his waist and switch your roles, pushing him against the counter. One surprise movement later, he sits on top of it, pressing his legs together in embarrassment.

“Why would you do that?” he complains.

“Because I can”, you are smiling up at him and kneading his hips, “now stop pressing those legs together and let me get a peek.”

Yoongi follows without hesitation, gawking at you with his eyes slowly getting softer in submission. He knew that he would be the submissive tonight and he loves it. He feels so excited about it. You are such a good Dom and you know him like no other. He trusts you, he can be naked with you, vulnerable and utterly himself and you wouldn’t judge him. Which is why he loves it when you’re bossy. Yoongi loves being a helpless slut just following your orders.

You slide your hands to his inner thighs, sending electricity through his veins. You massage them gently, never going past the hem of his rope. He wants you to go past. He currently exists for nothing else than your touch.

“You’ve got the softest thighs, my love”, you gush and look into his eyes, “I want to exchange safewords with you.”

“Snowdrop.”

“That’s right and is it okay for me to control the scene?”

He nods his head, opening his legs further. You are caressing his skin mindlessly as you talk and it feels so good.

“Say it.”

“Yes, it’s okay.”

“Good boy. Is it okay for me to take off your clothes and to touch you?”

“Yes, it’s okay.”

“Both?”

“Why are you asking so many questions? You’ve been torturing me for two hours, please I wanna be touched and cum in your hands”, he whines, cracking you up.

You bounce on the spot, blinding him with your smile. Your fingers knead his flesh. It tickles uncomfortably which forces Yoongi to whine and push them away. You change your grip, now caressing him again. This all happened within seconds as you smiled at him.

“You won’t cum for a long time, kitten. So get that outta your head.”

Yoongi gulps, opening his legs even more. He looks so, so needy this way. And like such easy prey. He even arches his back so his nipples would slip out of the rope accidentally. So perky and dainty. He’s got the prettiest nipples. You ogle them for a moment then look back at his face.

“And second of all, I fucking love you acting this way. My pretty slut, mhm?”

Yoongi rolls his hips against nothing. His skin is charged in sensitivity, his body feels fuzzy. With just your eye contact, your simple touch and your words, Yoongi already feels fucked. Shit, you are such a safe space for him. You make it so easy to switch from his normal – careful and wary – headspace to his sub headspace.

“One last question, promise”, you say, running the back of your nails up and down his inner thighs. Yoongi places his hands behind his back, putting his weight on them just so he can arch into your touch.

“Please hurry up”, he stresses, hurting unbearably. He needs your touch on his cock. It hurts so bad to be denied.

“Is it okay for me to go with the flow or do you need me to ask for consent each time I do something new?”

“I wanna be touched”, Yoongi begs.

“Answer my question, kitten.”

“Don’t ask for consent, just touch me. I’ll say if I don’t want something.”

“There we go, that’s all I needed to know. Thank you for being such a good cooperator, kitten. Such obedience needs to be rewarded”, you say and slip your hands from his thighs.

You twist the golden belt between your fingers and open the loose knot with one tug. The fabric still hides him, but you open it. You want to see him and marvel at his beauty. His ivory skin glows golden in the candlelight, his dark nipples are swollen and against his soft tummy, his hard cock stands impatiently and aches for your touch. His velvety cockhead is flushed, the thick veins on his cock pulsate as he gets harder under your greedy eyes.

“Look at that. You’re already hard”, you gush, looking up at him, “kitten, you’re so hard.”

“I’m so needy.”

“Of course you are. My needy kitten.”

You run your fingertips to his tummy. Up, up, up until you can trace his pecs and down again. Teasing. You trace the outline of his cock on his tummy without touching him on his cock.

“Please touch me”, Yoongi begs. He’s such a good boy with you, always so eager to beg.

“I am.”

“Touch my cock, please”, he tries, arching his back.

“You’re such a fucking delight, my kitten”, you rasp and step closer. Your fingers slide to his waist, your lips connect themselves with his chest. Your teeth take his right nipple and play with it hungrily. Your lips suck him swollen, your tongue tastes his skin.

Yoongi feels lightheaded while his nipple feels charged in pleasure. Every touch, kiss, lick and bite feels better than the last. He thought that he couldn’t get any needier, but he was wrong.

“___”, Yoongi begins moaning your name. That means a lot with him. Your name doesn’t fall from his lips often. Only when he feels deeply and overwhelmingly emotional. Being pushed deeper and deeper into the safest, most pleasurable subspace is definitely one of the most intense emotions he can experience. Your name feels like relief during those moments, your syllables taste like candy on his tongue.

You switch sides. You are a very fair Dom after all. His nipples need to be worshiped equally. He has such a pretty pair of them. Once his left nipple feels as swollen as his right, you lift your head.

His cheeks are flushed. He is breathing heavily. Your thumbs stay on his nipples, rolling circles into them.

“Be my good kitty and take off your rope”, you order him.

Yoongi obeys. The rope falls onto the countertop and stays there.

“There we go. Look at you.”

Yoongi is entirely naked while you are still dressed. If his past self could see him right now, he would actively make sure never to meet you just so he doesn’t have to get naked in such a demeaning way. But Yoongi isn’t his past anymore. Yoongi is in love and he is happy and he found his safe home with you, which means that being naked while you were dressed feels good to him. Maybe even empowering because of how incredibly smitten you look.

“I want to worship you for hours, my love”, you tell him as you run your hands over his torso.

“Because I’m beautiful?” he asks shyly, earning himself your eye contact.

“Say that again.”

“Do you want to worship me because I’m beautiful?”

Your heart does somersaults in your chest.

“Do you think that you’re beautiful?” you can barely get the words out.

“Yes”, he whispers, lowering his head shyly.

“Holy shit”, you press out. Your hands cradle his face, your eyes sparkle as you make him look at you, “holy shit, Yoongi my love. You, you never said that- you, oh god, are so beautiful, oh my love”, you choke out and squeeze his cheeks.

Yoongi feels great. Nothing hurts. Except his cock. Oh god, he is thinking of it again.

“Can you touch my cock?” he begs, “please, I was a good boy”, and he bargains.

“I can, just not here. Follow me, my love”, you say and take his hands to tug him off the countertop.

He hops off and follows you to the sofa. You twirl and fall, tugging him down with you by his hips. Yoongi stumbles and falls onto your lap, gawking at you with widened eyes.

“What the hell?” he says.

“You like it?”

“Why should I, I like it? You tugged me down and that’s it.”

“No, I meant do you like this?” you ask him and wrap your hand around his cock to jerk him off.

Yoongi gasps, writhing desperately as his legs squeeze around your thighs. His eyes widen for just a second before his lids flutter and a breathy "ah" slips past his lips.

The first touch won’t ever lose its spark. Yoongi has to moan again because all the mental and physical teasing made him unbearably sensitive.

You place your unoccupied hand on the small of his back and tilt his hips so his cock thrusts into your palm. Then you continue your rhythm, running your skilled hand up and down his entire length.

“Do you like this? Mhm?” you repeat your question.

“Yeah”, Yoongi gets out, writhing on your lap. This position is a first for him. To sit on your lap and have you touch his cock. He feels so vulnerable and small in this position and it’s messing with his already dizzy head.

Yoongi lowers his head, looking down at where your hand makes him feel electric. His tip is glistening in his excitement.

You run your fingers to it and give him a squeeze, forcing more droplets to leak out of him. The sensation combined with the visual makes Yoongi moan.

It was soaked in surprise, shock, pleasure and submission with a hint of embarrassment in the end.

“Look at you”, you have your sexy, powerful voice on. The kind of voice which makes Yoongi’s knees weak, “you’re leaking like crazy”, you say and massage his pink tip in strong squeezes. You have him between your thumb and pointer finger, using the grip to really make him leak.

And he does. Oh, how he leaks. He gets so wet for you. He gets especially wet when you are helping him fall into his small subspace. And tonight. Oh tonight, you pushed him into it with one simple act. The act of sitting him down on your lap and playing with his cock.

“Look at all of this. You’re so wet for me, kitten.”

Yoongi falls even further, arching his back so the tip of his cock moves between your fingers. He closes his eyes and scrunches his nose. A breathy, “fuck” follows. So quiet and shy only you can hear it.

You watch him, feeling your tummy churn in excitement. His cheeks are rosy, his pretty button nose is scrunched up and his dark hair frames his delicate face messily.

“You’re so pretty”, you praise him, “my pretty kitten.”

“Please”, he chokes out and lowers his head. His body writhes on your lap, his cock throbs between your fingers.

“Yoongi, love”, you speak sickeningly sweet, placing your fingers under his chin to tilt his head up, “don’t hide your pretty face from me. Open your eyes.”

Yoongi obeys, looking at you with droopy, glassy eyes and his lips parting as he keens shyly. He can barely keep up eye contact. It makes him feel so shy that his tummy keeps fluttering. But he doesn’t want to disobey you. Not when you touch him so good and not when you look so pretty.

“That’s better. You have such beautiful eyes”, you say and smile, “keep looking at me, kitten.”

“___”, he whispers shakily, cupping your face as his hips roll back and forth on your lap. Like this, his balls and tender hole grind against you, sending bolts of warm pleasure through his middle. His palms are clammy. You know that it is because of a mixture of pleasure, coyness and the intense warmth his body produces because he is with his soulmate. His touch feels so alive on your skin, because this is how you make him feel.

“That’s it, don’t you dare look away”, you praise, rewarding him with the best touch Yoongi ever felt on his cock. Nobody feels like you do. Nobody makes him feel so good.

Yoongi mewls and runs his clammy hands to your jaw. He cradles it for just a second then his hands slip to the sides of your neck.

“My handsome prince”, you whisper, “you’re my handsome, pretty love.”

“You’re making me cum”, Yoongi chokes out and pulls a face of devastated pleasure.

“Thank you for telling me”, you say and retreat your touch, caressing his thigh instead.

“No”, Yoongi breathes and squirms, “please…”

“You’re such a good boy for telling me.”

“Don’t edge me, please”, he begs and tries to tug your hand back to his aching cock.

“You’re cute. I take it that I can start with the spell now?”

“What spell?”

“The orgasm control spell. Yoongi love, that’s why we’re doing this tonight. Did you already forget?” you ask in a fond snicker and your loving hands caressing his waist.

“Oh”, Yoongi lets out.

He was so lost in pleasure that he forgot the true purpose of tonight. He is so deep in subspace that he forgot the only reason why you are touching him is because of the spell. He feels a little sad at that thought, lowering his eyes.

“Unless you don’t want it anymore. Then we can do something else”, you say.

He shakes his head, “I want it, but I’m, I don’t know, I need reassurance.”

“Of course, oh Yoongi you’re my most loved. Yeah?” you say and slide your hand to his cock, “and I’m gonna make you see stars”, you add in a rasp as you run your hand up and down the underside of his cock.

Yoongi moans softly, closing his eyes and slipping his hands to your shoulders.

“Don’t stop”, he whispers and adds a breathy, “please, Mistress.”

“Okay. I won’t stop. Is it okay for me to do the spell when I notice you getting close again?”

Yoongi nods his head.

“I need to hear it.”

“Yes, surprise me with it. Please, holy fuck, don’t stop.”

“There we go, that’s what I like from you. You’re such a good boy voicing your consent like that”, you praise him as your thumb massages his most sensitive spot.

He writhes and moans softly, “fuck. There.”

“Yeah, right there. You’re such a good boy, my love. Such a good boy.”

“Okay please”, Yoongi reaches down and laughs panickedly, “be quiet.”

You snicker, “close?”

“Yeah…“

“You’re so cute”, you say and cup his cheek, “come here, kitten.”

Yoongi leans down. Your lips brush his forehead. A hot, breathtaking sensation shoots through his body. A big, unbreakable knot forms deep in his tummy and his cock suddenly feels like exploding. Not literally but he swears, one wrong touch and he would shoot cum everywhere. Except that there are touches on his cock and no matter how good they feel, he can’t let go.

You pull your head back, studying his face.

“Shit, ah”, he gasps, opening and closing his mouth as he tries to make sense of his own state, “what did you do? Ah.”

“See? And you wanted to tell me that you’ll be too strong for the spell.”

He somehow manages to open his eyes. They are filled with devastation.

“It shouldn’t feel like this.”

“Does it hurt?”

He shakes his head.

“What else?”

“I can’t, I can’t cum. But I want to. Please don’t edge me, I don’t know what- ah-”, he stutters, ending his senseless rambling by rolling his eyes back and closing them. His nose scrunches up, his fingers dig into your shoulders as his body begins fighting the enchantment. He keeps grinding and humping and bouncing on your thigh, all while his cock throbs and pulsates between your fingers.

“Look at you. You’re such a needy kitten. Look at you trying to cum”, you say and giggle maniacally, “you’re so cute.”

“Fuck. Shit”, he gasps and tugs your hands away. “Oh”, he startles because of his own reaction, looking at you with big eyes. His hands grasp themselves and move up to hide his lower face behind them, “sorry”, he mumbles into his little fists.

“You’re okay”, you soothe him, “I can stop this again. It’s not your taste, is it?”

“I don’t know”, he confesses and looks at his cock. It is swollen and pink. So pink it borders red. He drops his right hand and wraps it around his cock. He still covers his mouth with his left hand, changing the grip once his own touch meets his length. He squeezes his own cheeks, furrowing his brows as his eyelids flutter. A deep purr rumbles in his chest, his thighs squeeze your own. His own touch feels so different than yours. You have the softest palms while his’ are slightly calloused from fighting. He misses your softness whilst at the same time getting addicted to his rough touch.

“Fuck, please”, he begs as he tightens his fingers around his cock. He tugs on it, trying so very hard to make himself cum. He fails miserably at it, gripping your upper arm in desperation, “please princess, please.”

You watch him touch himself, caressing his twitching thighs as you do. His hand is so big around his cock. Yoongi isn’t small, he is actually the perfect length, but his huge hand makes his cock almost look tiny. He pumps it around his girth, squeezing out droplets of useless precum.

“Ah god, shit”, he presses out and speeds up his hand. Wet squelching and the needy sounds of him fill the room. He is panting like crazy, mixing in deep purrs and desperate gasps every now and then.

“There we go, touch yourself. Isn’t it fascinating? Look at your wet, little cock. Such a wet kitten cock, mhm?” you talk to him in your sexiest voice, soothing the shakes in his legs with tender touches.

Yoongi mewls loudly and drops his head against you. He humps you, fucking his cock between his naked tummy and your clothed stomach. His hands, once grasping his own body, slam down on the wall behind the sofa. He scratches his nails down as he somehow tries to make himself cum.

“Fuck”, he presses out, letting the word swirl over your face. His hips chase you quickly, giving his cock a fruitless fuck, “f-fuck.”

“Does that help?” you ask him with a fond chuckle on your lips and your hands grasping his buttocks. They are tensing uncontrollably, mirroring the desperation he currently experiences.

“No”, he croaks, “what did you do to me? I can’t cum. I want to cum, please.”

“Just say the word and I’ll stop this.”

But Yoongi doesn’t say the word. Yoongi mewls and fucks himself against you with such vigour it knocks the air out of you. And again. Again. Again. Yoongi is desperately humping you even if it makes breathing oh so hard for you.

“Stop that”, you laugh and grip his ruthless hips, “hey, you’re gonna make me have a stomach ache if you continue humping me.”

Yoongi drops onto your lap, whimpering into the crook of your neck. His hands cradle the back of your head, his body shudders.

“I can’t do this”, he gets out in a fragile voice.

“I will stop this, yeah?”

“Don’t stop please. I can’t cum. Holy shit, what did you do to me?”

“Magic”, you say and slide your hands under his thighs, “now don’t startle.”

Yoongi startles. You stood up with him in your arms and he didn’t expect it. He presses himself closer, whining about being put down.

“I’m too heavy, don’t do that.”

“You’re not heavy. Hush.”

You turn and sit him down on the sofa. Yoongi looks up at you, looking so embarrassed. He’s adorable.

You give him a grin and fall to your knees before him, spreading his thighs for him. Yoongi reacts in a thrust of his hips and his hands placing themselves over yours. You caress his skin and look up. He is breathing heavily, looking so utterly nervous yet turned on.

“My pretty kitten”, you praise and take his cock between your lips.

“Ah”, Yoongi gasps, furrowing his brows as his cock twitches into you. He is so messed up. His tummy clenches like crazy.

“Mhhhm”, you purr around him, sinking down on him until he tickles the back of your throat. You hum deliciously, swallowing around him to make it all so tight for him.

“Please”, Yoongi breathes and grips the edge of the sofa. He squirms, pressing out another “please” when you begin fucking your mouth with his cock. All while you are purring and humming and moaning around him, making him feel your voice in the most stimulating of ways. It makes him so sensitive.

Yoongi scrunches his face in desperate pleasure. He can’t cum. But he wants to cum. You feel so good. Hot, warm and soft. You keep sucking on his tip and licking the spots which are the most sensitive. Everything – every single fiber in his body – begs for him to let go, to fall into the sensations. But Yoongi can’t let go. The pressure in his tummy aches and makes breathing hard, his legs are so weak that they can’t even tremble anymore and his nails hurt from gripping the sofa. And yet he can’t cum. No matter how hard he tries.

You are at his tip again, sucking so harshly your cheeks fall in. All while your left hand is sliding to his balls and your right is jerking off his shaft. You are moaning as you feast on him, sending vibrations through his sensitive cock.

“Please”, he begs. Pleads. Whimpers. His eyes tear up. He closes them and curls his lips back as another high-pitched whimper rolls off his tongue.

“Mhhm, ah”, you slip off of him deliciously, slurping up the sweet mess he leaves just for you, “you’re so wet, kitten”, you taunt, massaging his thick vein and therefore forcing more useless precum out of his cock. It sits on his flushed tip as pretty, translucent pearls, “look at that mess. It’s so fucking useless, isn’t it?”

Yoongi takes your hand and squeezes it. You look up, meeting his glazed over eyes.

“Need a break?” you ask him to which he shakes his head, “what else? Mhm?”

“I need to cum”, he presses out.

“But you can’t. I know, you told me before”, you say and smile, kissing his knuckles softly, “don’t worry kitten, you’re in safe hands. And mouth”, you say and snicker at your joke, lowering yourself back to his cock.

Yoongi wanted to complain about your stupid joke, but couldn't because you stole his ability to speak. All he can muster are needy noises and desperate gasps for air.

You take him as deep as you can go, using the position to really push him past your throat’s limit. It’s not uncomfortable, it’s so incredibly hot to you. Especially because it makes Yoongi whimper above you and grip your head as his body slacks in utter defeat. His legs fall open further and his tummy softens as his muscles give up on him. He presses out a weak, “hngnmm” and lets his head all against the sofa and roll to the side as he is staring at you with heavy eyes.

He doesn’t use the leverage he has on your head. He truly wastes the opportunity, letting his hand lay limp on your head while you throat fuck his cock. Your left hand grips his pretty waist, your right cups his balls and tugs.

“Ah!” he yelps, thrusting into you against his will. His back arches off the cushions, his eyes roll back involuntarily. The pain was intense, gaining in intensity because your spell turned his body into one overly sensitive mess.

You slide off with a slurp, keeping your attention on his flushed tip while your hand tugs again. Harshly. The pain sits deep, but feels like paradise.

Yoongi drops his hand from your head for the sole purpose of rubbing his own face. With both hands. Desperately. Mostly to make sense of his state, but also to wipe some of the tears he spills.

Another tug on his balls reminds him that he’s your fucking slut. He throbs between your lips and chokes out an agonised sound. It is filled with so much pain and torture that you feel the need to check up on him.

“Colour?” you ask, massaging his aching balls gently.

“Green”, the word leaves him breathlessly, a small whimper follows, “please let me cum, please.”

“Mhm, I don’t know. You’re so cute when you’re like this”, you coo and kiss his tip, “my cutie.”

Yoongi touches your head before cradling your cheek. His palm is sweaty, his touch weak yet loving. You tilt your head up to see him.

“Please", he whispers, staring at you through his lashes. His dark hair hangs into his face messily. He is practically glowing in pleasure. The view makes your heart race. He is so pretty.

“You’re cute when you beg”, you say and give his balls a tug. Once stretched to their limits, you incorporate a twist to really drive the pain deep.

Yoongi’s face scrunches in pleasure, he squeaks out a “please” while his enchanted cock throbs between your fingers.

“Like this, so cute”, you squeal and giggle, “my cutie patootie”, you add in a squeak and tug on his balls, giving them a twist when it hurts the most.

Yoongi thinks that you are the cruellest person ever. Your voice and the words it produces build him up and makes him feel so loved, your eyes show him how much he is adored and yet your hands torture him as if you hated him. You are so loving and yet so cruel. Yoongi can’t function because of it.

“Mistress, please”, he begs and squeezes your cheek gently.

“My cutie”, you say and kiss his palm. Just once because then you stand up. Your torturing, amazing touch ceases to exist. Yoongi feels cold because of it, aching in his chest.

He reaches for you instantly, “don’t leave, I need you”, he pleads.

“I’m not leaving”, you assure him and slide your hands to your own clothes to undress.

“Oh”, Yoongi lets out, watching you with heavy eyes, “you’re beautiful, princess.”

“You’re beautiful too, love.”

You step out of your pants and get on his lap. Yoongi welcomes you with his hands touching your hips instantly. You slide your hands to his jaw, using a gentle grip to tilt his head up. Yoongi gazes up at you, looking so utterly ruined. Only you can get him this way. Ruined and flushed. So pretty.

“You’re gonna cum inside me. Are we understood?”

“Yes, Mistress”, he whispers as he runs his hands up and down your lower back.

A faint smile washes over you. You run your thumb to his lips to trace them. Yoongi chases you with a soft moan and his tongue darting out to lick you. You allow him, watching him lap at your thumb while his devoted eyes are gazing at you.

“Who do you belong to, Yoongi?” you ask him.

“___”, he says your name without needing to be asked.

“Yeah, that’s right”, you press out with a fluttering heart, “shit, you’re mine.”

“Yours…”

You pick up his cock and sink down on him. Yoongi’s face scrunches up. He is so overtaken by pleasure and yet he still finds the strength to press out a desperate “yours.” As if it was instinct, but it’s not instinct. It’s the result of a well-trained, loved and utterly devoted sub finding his heaven in his Dom. And it’s his desperate attempt to show you that you and only you own him. He is yours and only yours and being reunited with you is the drug his body runs on.

“That’s right. Mine”, you praise and bottom out. You caress his neck and begin moving on him. Up and down with a skilful roll in your hips to make sure he hits every single inch of you.

Yoongi presses out a desperate moan and drops his head into your chest. He hugs you close, shaking in a tearless sob. It feels so good to be fucked by you.

“You’re doing so well”, you praise him, hugging him against you with your hands deep in his soft hair.

Yoongi can’t talk right now. He is so ruined and it’s only been seconds. This is going to be the biggest torture you ever made him go through. Being touched and licked should have prepared him for your pussy, but it didn’t. When you played with him, Yoongi noticed the spell but it felt more like very intense edging to him. He is starting to realise that this is so much more. With every bounce on his sensitive cock, every clench of your soft walls, every swirl of your hips, Yoongi feels less and less in control of his own body. This is the true effect of the spell. Every second with you feels like ecstasy and yet Yoongi is denied its high. He is right at the source and yet can’t taste its sweetness on his tongue.

He forces his head to tilt back just so he can look up at you. His hair is a mess on his forehead, his eyes are barely open and his chin is still in contact with your chest.

He presses out your name until the first vowel then forgets how to talk as you slam down on his cock again and render him useless.

“You’re so handsome, my love”, you coo as you cup his cheek with your left hand. You keep your right still buried deep inside his long hair, giving him a soft tug because you know he can take it. The bun he once wore has long being ruined. You fucking love him like that. Messed up and ruffled just by you.

Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut in the most devastating of ways, hiding his face in your chest again as his throat produces the most beautiful of sounds.

“So handsome and you’re taking me so well”, you praise while you are ruining him. You bottom out, writing your name with your hips. He should remember who treats him like that. He shouldn’t forget.

Yoongi falls back because his body is weakened more and more the longer you ride him.

You fall with him, laughing because you didn’t expect it. Your hands slam onto the wall to support yourself, your boobs smother him.

“Careful baby”, you snicker.

“Yours”, he croaks and gathers your tits just to suck and lick them. He is wet and sloppy with it, giving you glimpses of his fangs and you are loving it.

“Yes baby, this feels so good”, you encourage him and use the new position to bounce on him. Your clit grinds against his lower tummy this way, while his cock hits all the right spots deep inside.

Yoongi mewls and whimpers into your tits while you feel yourself get lost as well. You are going to cum on his cock. That’s all you can think about right now. His touch, his lips, his warmth and throbbing cock paired with the feeling of having him at the tip of your fingers makes you feel so weakened.

Yoongi drops his lips from your nipple. He can’t breathe. If he doesn’t fight for air soon, he will pass out. His head is against the edge of the backrest, your tits are all in his face while you bounce him. You fuck him so hard that the impact your ass makes on his thighs is audible. You sound so wet. So goddamn wet. He feels it stick to his thighs and run down his balls. Your puffy walls keep clenching and sucking on him as you make yourself cum. Yoongi knows those motions by heart. You always start to get tighter when you are getting close. Yoongi finds it hard to control himself during such a ride on normal days, but today he is actually suffering. He wants to cum, but he can’t. He is so serious. He wants to cum, but he can’t. Why does nobody know how serious he is? He wants to cum, but can’t. He can’t. Every second feels like that one pivotal moment before he tips over the edge, but he can’t.

“Please”, he begs, scratching his nails down your back. He doesn’t even realise that he is leaving marks on your skin. All he needs you to fucking understand is that he can’t fucking cum, but he wants to so, so bad.

“I’m so close, baby”, you moan above him, caring shit about him. You are just using him and his enchanted cock. Yoongi feels so ruined, spilling tears from his ruby eyes. Your tits keep slapping his face. It’s like mockery to him. He is so desperate to make you understand him and find pity in yourself and yet you are blind to it, “so close, kitten”, you press out, squeezing around his cock, “your pretty kitten cock is gonna make me cum so good.”

Yoongi tries to beg you, but can’t. He doesn’t know how to speak. Only animalistic sounds come easy to him. They’re not of feral nature, but that of a scared, little animal getting cornered by its biggest predator. You are talking about your impending orgasm while he suffers. Yoongi feels so fucking mocked by you and as a result, he wants to kiss the very ground you walk on. You own him.

You motherfucking own him.

“So close, kitten. So fucking close”, you moan as your tits remind him what heaven is and your pussy keeps his enchanted cock on edge.

Yoongi tries to help you, but he can’t. His body is useless. He can’t even get his legs to move or his hips to meet your bounces. He genuinely feels like a stupid, little sexdoll right now. A sexdoll meant to exist for your pleasure and to be useless otherwise. You could do anything to him and he couldn’t even fight back because you ruined his body to the point of paralyzing exhaustion.

All which still works are his hands and they are currently dimpling your ass from gripping you so goddamn harshly. He’ll leave bruises in the deepest parts of your flesh, but you can’t care about this right now. Yoongi doesn’t even notice that he is bruising you. He feels numb to anything other than your hot pussy and your tits in his face. He snatches for them and manages to brush his tongue over your left nipple. It’s so weak and slow, his licks that is, and Yoongi can’t speed up even if he wants to.

“Yes Yoongi, yes. Fuck my prince, my beautiful, ah”, you moan, rutting against him. Your walls are so tight. Yoongi tries to breathe through it, but even that gets hard when you knock the air out of him each time you slam yourself down on him.

Your hands come to cup his cheeks and tilt his head up. You want to meet his gaze, but can’t. Yoongi’s eyes are glued shut, his face is crinkled in pleasure. Or agony. You can’t decide. Maybe it’s both.

“My love”, you moan and climax to the view of him, “a-ah Yoongi”, you whimper, dropping your forehead against his’ as your body shakes out of control.

Yoongi’s hands lose strength as well. Your pulsating, clenching walls are too much. Not even spilling tears is enough to show the desperation he feels at this point. But he still does. It’s the only thing he can still do besides moan like crazy and fight for air.

You come down soon, but don’t slow down as you fuck your tight walls through the overstimulation.

Yoongi tries again to produce words, “p-please n-no more”, he chokes out and tries to grip your hips, “I can’t take much more.”

“I know kitten. Almost there”, you lull your words, sounding so ruined by your high. You speed up your hips, fucking him into insanity and no control.

“No more”, he squeaks and presses out a pained, “oh”, before a sob shakes him.

“Who do you belong to?” you rasp the words against his temple.

“You”, he chokes out, spilling tears.

“Yes Yoongi, fuck”, you lull as you drag your lips to his forehead, “cum for me”, you order and kiss his forehead.

The spell drops. Yoongi screams and arches his back off the sofa to its breaking point. His head he keeps thrown back, showing view to his throat and his agape mouth. His fangs are on full display as he screams over and over again as you finally fuck him to an orgasm. His cock, once perfectly human sized, grows into his supernatural length within a second.

“Fuck, ah”, you gasp, convulsing around the sudden intense stretch. One second you need to get used to it and then you are already bouncing on him again, fucking masses and masses of hot cum out of him, “yes Yoongi, cum for me. Yes”, you growl, using the edge of the backrest as support. Shit, he is cumming so hard that it is squirting out of you and you fear that he might stuff you past your body’s limits. You can’t get enough of him, wishing for him to reach places no human should be creamed at.

“Keep cumming for me. So fucking good. You’re such a good fucking boy”, you moan while Yoongi is reduced to screaming and clawing at the couch. If he didn’t claw at it, he would hurt you. He has no control over himself right now. It scares him, but all the more it fills him with sensations he hasn’t experienced in millennia.

Yoongi thought that he knew pleasure with you. He was so sure that he couldn’t climax any harder with you. You break him and build him up just to break him again over and over each time your bodies connect in pleasure. You know his every spot and how to get him to his breaking point, you know how to keep him there until even breathing gets hard and you know how to draw it out until begging is the only thing he can do. His pleasure is on your literal fingertips and Yoongi thought that you already dragged out the deepest highs from his soul. And yet he was wrong. He was still fucking wrong.

The last time he felt that kind of high, Yoongi lived a different life. He killed for pleasure, fucked for short relief and found his highest high in the taste of blood. He was twisted and wrong and loved nothing more than the sensation of blood coating his throat. He doesn’t like to think of this time in his life, but sometimes he thinks about the highs he can’t have anymore and begins missing them. And you are dragging such a high out of him right now. Safely. Without blood spill. Two millennia without it and Yoongi finds it again at the fingertips of his beloved woman. If he didn’t already exist solely for you, he would have started to do so right here and now.

His screaming stops in sync with his back dropping against the sofa. He grows limp as paralysation sets in. Yoongi is there for it. Mentally he takes in every second of his vulnerable state and he can’t do anything against it. He should feel scared, but he doesn’t. He just feels so ruined and happy that he wants to smile but he can’t. Even that he can’t do because you fucked him into helpless paralysation.

“Good job”, you praise and slip off of him, “ah shit, I’m not peeing myself right now, it’s your cum”, you say and laugh which makes even more cum squirt out of you. It covers his thighs and drips to the ground. Truly you are leaking like a goddamn faucet. You snicker at the situation and look at Yoongi when he doesn’t respond.

He is staring at the ceiling with ruby eyes and silent tears running down his cheeks. His lips are parted and his cheeks look so…fallen in as if his muscles stopped working.

“My love?” you ask, cupping his cheek, “what’s wrong?” you say, shaking his head gently. It flops from side to side without any kind of protest from him. Like his muscles forgot how to work.

You study him with furrowed brows. Unmoving and limp. Almost as if…you widen your eyes. This is the result of a Ripper High.

“Holy shit, I gave you a Ripper high”, you gasp and press out a squeaky giggle, “oh my love, I did it!” you exclaim and begin kissing every inch of his face, “I, I did it. I knew I could do it. Oh my love, oh I love you. My love, you’re doing so well. It’s safe to come back to me, my love. Take as long as you need to, I’m right here.”

Yoongi is present for all of it. Physically he is gone, but his mind and heart are still with you. He doesn’t feel your kisses and loving touches at first. At least not on his skin, his heart still feels their effect. It swells in his chest and fills with the warmest of warmths. He knows that what you are speaking is the truth. It is safe to come back to you. There won’t be agony and guilt waiting for him, just love and the healing feeling of home.

“My beautiful, handsome love. Oh my Yoongi, I’m so happy and so proud and oh, I love you like crazy.”

Your words have an even stronger effect on his heart, affecting his mind as well and healing wounds so deep he thought they could never heal. When he lived a different life, being paralysed after his high meant that he slaughtered villages, left families ripped apart and caused nightmares to whoever was unlucky enough to survive. When he lied paralysed between the massacred bodies of his once pleasurable hunt, the guilt and pain of what he did made him cry and scream his lungs out until he stopped tensing up and he had to flee the scene with his limbs barely wanting to work.

And now he knows that once he regains control of himself, there won’t be any bodies waiting for him. Just you. Perfectly fine and unharmed.

The first kiss he feels on his skin is one at the tip of his nose. You trail them up the bridge of it and by the time, Yoongi feels your lips on his forehead the feeling in his skin returned completely. He can feel the wet mess on his lap, your warmth against his skin and your loving touch on his face.

“___”, he croaks with his voice terribly ruined.

“Hey”, you speak gently, “welcome back. You did so well, I’m so proud”, you praise, tilting his head into a kiss.

It focuses his attention on his lips and Yoongi does everything inside him to make them work first just so he can kiss you back. It happens soon. Yoongi regains control over his lips and finally kisses you back and it fills him with so much overwhelming happiness that his body regains control within the brink of a second. He loves you so much and he shows you that he does with his arms wrapping around you and his body melting with yours as he sits up and deepens the kiss.

And he kisses you. Kisses you. Kisses you. And kisses you without wanting to stop. He kisses you with you on top of his lap, kisses you with his arms around you and his hands as deep in your hair as your texture allows it, kisses you with his chest flush against yours and his throat producing the most grateful, happy whimpers.

He stands up with you in his arms, still kissing you. He keeps kissing you as his weakened knees drag him down and he falls onto the couch with you underneath him. And even then he keeps kissing you, needing you to understand what this meant to him. What you just healed. What you fucking mean to him. He swears that no kiss he shares with you is enough to show you what he feels for you. None of them is enough and so he has to keep kissing and kissing and kissing you until he finally finds the one worthy enough of his feelings.

Quite frankly, he would have kissed you for countless more hours if you hadn’t broken it for him. You had to because he barely gave you time to breathe and you felt dizzy.

“___”, his begs are instant, his lips search for your kiss but find your fingertips. The spot on your body which holds his heaven, paradise and dreams. Yoongi begins kissing them, doing so with his body trembling in emotion.

“I can’t tell if you’re upset or not”, you whisper, watching him with overwhelming feelings in your chest. You always thought that he showed you every variation of kisses he had to offer, but the way he kissed you right now was unlike any kiss you ever shared. It left you feeling overwhelmed in the best ways possible.

He tries to answer you, but can’t. He is too overwhelmed by everything he feels.

“Take your time”, you encourage him, caressing his cheek with gentle fingers while his lips still kiss your other hand.

Yoongi tries again.

“The last time I felt this high, it was surrounded by dozens of massacred bodies”, he begins with his cheek seeking your palm. You help him find it, feeling your heart grow in love when he nuzzles into you, “I hated myself so much and wanted to die.”

“Yoongi my love”, you croak, cupping his other cheek as well.

“For hundreds of years I chased this high even if I hated it. For hundreds of years feeling it meant that I killed innocent people and left others traumatised and now you-” his voice breaks as his emotions overtake him.

He opens his eyes, giving view to the tears blurring his vision.

“I love you so much”, he chokes out shakily, “I-I want to know words more honest than love, but there are none. I love you so much more than love, I can’t f-find words. I feel so much for you”, he stutters and lets his head fall into the crook of your neck. He closes his arms around you, cradling you against him as best as the position allows him, “you’re the home I always longed for, ___”, he confesses, leaving you to spill tears because it felt so good to be loved by him.

“You’re my home too, Yoongi”, you say, hugging him against you as your nose nuzzles against his face, “god, you’re making me cry”, you confess in a chuckle, “I was planning for the evening to be fun and kinky and yet here we are sobbing again.”

“I feel so much, I can’t help it.”

“That’s okay, as long as we have each other we can be little crybabies after sex”, you say and making him laugh out a sob.

“Yeah”, he says, “ah fuck”, he gets out and laughs into the crook of your neck as much as he sobs.

You snicker and hug him closer, kissing his hair, “my Yoongi.”

Being with each other is the only thing that truly matters and if one was wondering, yes Yoongi will whine about everything which happened once he regained clarity again. It will come by morning after you and he shared cuddles in your bed and he wakes up to an empty bed and a magical note telling him that you were in your kitchen. He will find you kneeling by the couch as you attempt to fix the holes he ripped into the cushions and Yoongi will sit down next to said holes and give you the shiest glances you ever saw on him and mere seconds later, you and he will talk about last night. You will be terribly excited while Yoongi will whine at first about how reckless it was, but in the end he will giggle with you and tell you how nice you made him feel and that you healed wounds he never thought capable of healing. Then you will attempt to fix the couch together, stealing kisses and snuggles way too often as your giggles just didn’t seem to want to stop.

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lust4lore · 4 months

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ARFARFARF so down bad for brattamer n casually dominant(by nature) kinda dark rafe n bimbo reader🤭🤭 imagine reader talkin to a random stranger in a bar or club or whateva she thinks its js a friendly interaction n shit after that rafes js there thinking 150 ways how to kill the guy for flirting wit his pretty little thing then she says it was a nice friendly convo n hes like whst???? yeah ahaha.... im obsessed pls forgive me

OH THIS GOT THE JUICES FLOWINGGG

the creative juices. get your head out of the gutter. that being said, thank you for your request! i hope i did it justice

CW: controlling!rafe, mildly dark!rafe, mmm kinda breaking my own guidelines w this one but VERY slight domestic violence? you get the point, manipulation

rafe cameron likes pretty things. so much, in fact, that he had known he was done for the second he saw you. you were cute— innocent— in a pink silk dress, ribbon in your hair and a sweet smile tugging at the corners of rosy lips. he just had to have you, and a year later, he did.

another well known fact about rafe cameron, though, is that he doesn’t share. and so, imagine his surprise when he comes back from the bathroom to see some man talking to you at the bar. he watches you for a moment, the rage settling in his veins enough to get his jaw clenching as you bat your eyelashes and giggle at whatever stupid joke that bastard just told you, pretty lips sucking at your straw as his gaze flickers down to your chest.

now that has rafe seeing red. he comes up behind you, an arm wrapping around your waist and causing you to slightly stumble back at the force of it. “hey, baby, who’s this?” he asks, fingers lightly twitching against your stomach. if you’re aware of the waves of fury radiating from him, you do nothing to show it, turning around in his hold with a naive smile and bright eyes. “rafey! this is alex, he wants to be friends,” you tell him, gesturing towards that sick perver— alex— behind you. “oh, does he?” he asks, but rafe isn’t talking to you, not really. if looks could kill, your new ‘friend’ would be further than six feet under the ground. “y’know, alex, i think my girl has enough friends already,” he squeezes your side, glancing down at you. “don’t you think, sweetheart?” the grasp he has on your waist tightens, fingers digging into your skin in a way that’ll probably bruise later.

you tilt your head, a crease forming between your brows as you lower your voice. “rafe, what- ow!” you yelp quietly as his iron grip bores into your ribs. he pays you no mind, though, still fixing alex with a chilling, eerily calm smile. “shit, man, i’m sorry, i’ll- m’gonna head out now,” the shorter boy mutters, looking intimidated as he staggers backward and rushes out the door. rafe gives a quiet chuckle at that and one of his hands grabs your wrist, yanking you closer. tears prick your eyes as he nearly cuts off the circulation in your hand, leaning in close to your face. “the fuck do you think you’re doing, huh? letting other guys flirt with you like that?”

you let out a whimper at his harsh words, a tear rolling down your pretty face. “he was jus’ being nice, i-” you whisper, and a hint of satisfaction cuts through his anger. look at you, you need him, who else’ll be there to protect you from all of those gross guys trying to get a piece of his sweet girl? he sighs, bringing a hand up to wipe the tears off of your cheeks. “c’mon, doll, you know better, did you see the way he was lookin’ at you?” you just look up at him, tears still sitting in your waterline as he presses a kiss to your trembling lips. “i didn’t mean to make you upset, a’ight? m’just trying to protect you,” he murmurs, and you instantly feel a little guilty for the way you reacted. “m’sorry, i didn’t know he was-” but rafe shushes you, stroking your cheek gently.

“s’okay, baby, you’ll remember who you belong to when we get home,”

#𓇼 indigo writes!#𓇼 blurburburb #rafe cameron x reader #drew starkey #rafe cameron #outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe cameron smut #obx fic #rafe obx

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sainamoonshine · 1 year

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So I know the entire narrative in The Locked Tomb is like « oh ahaha Babs, what a loser » but I genuinely think that there might be something really interesting about him. Babs was the only person in the whole galaxy to know about Ianthe and Corona’s secret. And I’m starting to think that as much of a natural asshole he is, at least 50% of what we see of him in GtN is acting.

Let me explain: he is obviously in puppy love with Corona, and dismissive of Ianthe when Corona is looking. But privately, he is terrified of her. He knows she’s his necromancer and NOT Corona; this is proven when the Second challenges the Sixth, and Corona wants to intervene but Ianthe says no. Ianthe is 100% certain that Babs will do as she says, but Corona is actually surprised. And when he finds Corona duelling Gideon, he is scared and tells her that he will not tell Ianthe. I think Ianthe probably threatened him behind Corona’s back one time or a dozen. And I think Babs isn’t just protecting their secret, he might be trying to protect Corona from Ianthe’s anger too. Being the annoying go-between, the butt of the joke, the meat shield. On purpose.

Pay close attention to when he’s being a contrary asshole for no reason. A lot of it seems to come naturally to him, sure. But also: when Jeannemary finds the human ash and asks for Corona of all people to help her identify the deceased: he immediately redirects attention by being a mega-asshole. Corona ends up not having to do any necromancy; her secret is still safe. Similarly, later on in Dulcinea’s sick room, when everyone is having a discussion about necromancy: he makes a tetchy comment, prompting Corona to whisk him away like ‘oh ahah he’s getting hangry’. How familiar is this routine for them?

I think deep down, while he’s an arrogant dickhead, Babs isn’t evil. He’s shocked and appalled that Silas went and took Dulcinea’s keys, and I don’t think it’s because he wishes he thought of it first, as Jeannemary accuses. I think he genuinely thinks that’s dishonourable. And when Corona tries to stand up for the Sixth and Ianthe says no, Babs follows her order, but is pissed about it.

But hold on, you might say to me, five minutes later HE is the one to issue a challenge to the Sixth!! Yeah, after a tense stare-off with his necromancer. After, perhaps, coming to some conclusions of his own about the Third house’s chances regarding the key situation. Ianthe herself says to Corona: you need a facility key. This is your only chance. Might be that Babs figured something similar!

When Harrow answers the call, his face is frozen in a look that’s both cautious but trying to look though. When Jeannemary jumps on the table, he immediately backs out. Without waiting for Ianthe to call him off. He tries to play it off, but Babs is pretty consistent on NOT wanting to fight the teenager.

In conclusion: the dude is a dick but I think he’s got honour and he is stuck between a rock and a very hard place. AND he fights Ianthe after the lyctoral process for a surprising and impressive long time!

Also: lmao when he jumps off the table he mutters ‘should have just stayed home and gotten married’. Okay??? Babs what’s that about? 👀

#the locked tomb theory #the locked tomb speculation #the locked tomb #naberius tern

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ronwestbreeze · 1 year

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my dear mates

pairing: jake sully x reader x neytiri x tsu'tey

summary: headcanons of how you become mates with jake sully, neytiri, and tsu'tey

author's note: this was for fun!! i also might do a second part for the way of the water just to experiment what it would be like if tsu'tey was in it ahaha. also yes, tsu'tey is alive and is olo'eyktan and jake is just the toruk makto. anyway, enjoy <3

link to the story inspired by this hc!!

before pandora

you were born on a dying planet. your mother was a scientist and researcher. then your mother got accepted to go to pandora for the avatar program. she was so excited but she knew she couldn’t take you with her at that point. instead of letting her feel guilty, you only encouraged her to go.

five years later in the year 2150, you were actually able to make some progress with your mother’s work. you had gathered a research team and some military protection to be able to go over to the amazon rainforest and protect what was left of it. for two years you were able to keep life there protected, that is until all of it was destroyed. deforestation. you were surrounded by fire and destruction, running to get to safety as the rainforest died around you. all of your hard work, all of your mother’s work was gone just like that. and you were helpless, you couldn’t do anything about it.

around the same time, you had been approached by a few rda agents. they were recruiting you to go to pandora since you were the best option they had to continue your mother’s work there. but that only confused you.

“i don’t understand.” you frowned at them, heart racing. “my mother went to pandora to start her new research there. why do you need me to continue it…”

the answer dawned on you before the agents told you. you mother had died on pandora. and because of this, you were the only one who could understand her work which is why the rda agents came for you. this opportunity was all you had left to continue your mother’s legacy and work. so you agreed to go to pandora.

getting to pandora

it was 2155 when you came out of cryosleep. you were then led onto a ship that flew you down to the planet. only the ship was nearly shot down by the na’vi and you experienced quite the rough landing.. once it did land and the ship opened, you were met with multiple na’vi surrounding the ship, bows pointed at you, even some of them had guns much to your surprise.

that was when you met tsu’tey and jake sully. tsu’tey was the olo’eyktan while jake was toruk makto. the former was wary of your arrival and immediately wanted to either kill you or send you back.

“we need her!” one of the humans, norm spellman, argued for you. “please, she’s of no danger to you. one of our doctors, dr. l/n sent her. you know her, right? dr. augustine’s friend! grace wanted her here too!” norm looked to jake pleadingly. “jake, help me out here!”

jake spoke to tsu’tey in a language you were unfamiliar with back then. the language of the na’vi people. jake then turned to norm and you, speaking in english. “put her in one of the cells at hells gate.”

“jake—“

“if we can find proof that she was sent by a doctor here, she has to stay in a place where she can be watched.” jake looked at you again, his face guarded. “if what your saying is true then there should be no problem, right?”

it took you a few seconds to realize that he had addressed you at that point. you nodded quickly, “yes, um, yeah.”

they had you placed in a holding cell at the abandoned hell’s gate for a couple of days. of course the humans there fed and clothed you. norm had then explained that a year prior the rda and the omatikaya clan had gone to war and the rda were exiled, so you coming a year later after all of that was seen as suspicious to the na’vi. now that you had some context, you then understood why your ship had been attacked. it also meant you had to be careful now that you were here. and it was best to keep to yourself and stay at your mother’s old lab in the forest. yes, that was a good plan at first.

too bad it didn’t stick.

when you meet

it wasn’t really difficult to stay in your own lane. you got used to using your avatar and were often wandering around the forest to study everything. at first the only people you interacted with were the other humans on the planet, which weren’t that much to begin with but you were content. mostly you were just getting used to the planet whilst also taking in the fact that your mother had died and you hadn’t been at her side when she did.

jake was the first one to approach you. since he knew what it felt like to be an outsider, he immediately tried to welcome and make you comfortable the best way he knew how. so often when he comes back from hunts, he’d stop by your lab to see you. one time he had spotted a really pretty plant and immediately thought of you. knowing that your job was to study the botany of pandora, he brought you to the plant. your smile was so big then, a part of him felt a pull toward you. whenever you smiled at him or laughed at his dumb jokes. jake couldn’t help but want to continue making you smile.

and you of course, always looked forward to him coming around, your heart fluttering every time you made physical contact with each other. whether it be the simple brush of fingers, you finding any excuse just to caress his face and him just wanting so desperately to kiss you. it was clear then that jake wanted you as another mate but he knew the other two wouldn’t accept her as he had, so in the beginning he buried his feelings for his and your sake.

“don’t look at me like that.” jake mumbled quietly, his forehead touching yours.

you frowned softly, “like what?”

he frowned sadly, “like you love me.”

but you did. and there was no stopping that.

neytiri had been watching you ever since jake had begun stopping by your lab after his hunts. she was wary about your arrival yet curious as to why jake kept going to you. she did think at first it was because the two of you had something in common but she discovered there was much more to that. tsu’tey of course waved it off in the beginning but she wasn’t too quick to let it go. so she herself started watching you. you had yet to notice her which annoyed neytiri a bit. if you were to be living in pandora, you must always be aware of your surroundings. you on the other hand just seemed to be in a whole different world. neytiri thought you would get eaten in less than a week.

but then again, your awed curiosity about the forest did draw her toward you. apart of her wanted to make herself known to you, just to show more to the forest than what you thought you had seen. plus she was drawn to your gentle spirit. and your innocence of your smile. neytiri soon began to understand why jake kept visiting you. a strange feeling bubbled in her stomach and she thought she was jealous at first.

one day she had to make herself known. especially when you were about to touch a dangerous plant.

“do not touch that.” she warned, surprising you.

you looked up in time to find her jumping down from the tree and landing in front of you. the na’vi woman gestured toward the plant, “it is poisonous. not meant to touch.”

“oh, sorry.” you backed away from the plant. your eyes then caught something on her leg, “hey, um, you have a cut there.”

she glanced down, not too bothered by it, “it’s nothing. just a scratch.”

you shake your head, “i can clean it a bit for you. you know, just so it won’t get infected.” before neytiri had a chance to protest you had already started walking toward a small pond, gesturing for her to follow. neytiri didn’t know why but she did. the two of you then knelt down next to the bond, you cup some water from it and brushed it against neytiri’s leg. “hmm, you're right, it’s just a scratch. not a lot of blood as it turns out.”

“i already said this.” neytiri grumbled but didn’t push your hands away.

you smiled up at her, “yeah, but it doesn’t hurt to check, right?”

neytiri realized then that it wasn’t jealousy she felt toward you. but instead it was a certain gentle fondness for you. one that always made it come back every day, similar to jake, just to see you and watch you work. some days she’d ask to join jake who was surprised by the request. you were happy to have her around as much as you loved having jake. it was comforting, being in neytiri’s presence. she was fierce but around you she was a lot more shy and comfortable with you. the both of you brought a sense of comfort and calm toward one another.

from then on, neytiri understood why jake kept coming back to you.

becoming one of the people

you understood what you had been missing the entire time you had been on pandora. even before coming here. and you decided that you would want to call this place your home and to do that, you would have to become like them. the na’vi. so you could be with them.

jake and neytiri were all for it and were the ones to help you. jake was the one to teach you how to hunt and how to choose and use your weapon. neytiri taught you the language—was a lot more patient with you than she was with jake—and showed you more of the forest, teaching you how to become one with it. how to understand it the na’vi way. the more time the three of you spent with each other, the more in love you had become.

of course, one last person had to be convinced.

tsu’tey

tsu’tey saw you making progress to become one of the people. and you saw him watching you. you knew he didn’t trust you. but since he was the clan leader of the omatikaya, you were quite determined to earn his trust. even jake and neytiri wanted him to accept you.

it was when you first tamed your ikran. you had fallen off your ikran mid-flight at first and jake had been the one to fly his own ikran down to catch you. he flew you back to the cliff.

“she’s done.” jake had said as you slid off his ikran. he said it more to neytiri than you. “that was too close!”

“she can handle it!” neytiri frowned. “the danger, the whole thing, is a part of it, ma’jake!”

“she nearly died!” jake protested.

“guys--”

“and so did you when you first tamed yours! why is now any different?!”

“you know why!”

“guys!” you shouted, drawing their attention back to you. you ran a hand through your hair and huffed, “first off, stop talking about me like i’m not standing right next to you! second, i love you both, but it’s my choice whether or not i decide to finish.”

jake tried protesting, “y/n--”

“jake.” you sighed and went to grab your ikran taming rope from off the ground. “let me do this. please.”

neytiri nodded while jake only frowned. that was when tsu’tey appeared, looking all smug, “you heard her, jakesully.” you roll your eyes as neytiri squeezed your arm encouragingly. “Let her continue to fall. it’ll only make her look more like a skxawng.”

“tsu’tey.” jake frowned but you only grinned.

“hey i know you’re tryna make fun of me right now, but it’s only encouraging me to do it again. so, thanks!” you smirked provokingly at him causing him to scowl at you.

“enough talk, demon girl.” tsu’tey stood before you despite neytiri trying to step in between you and get him to calm down. a part of it worked because she was his mate, but tsu’tey was still studying you, tilting his head with a mocking smirk. “go on. show me.”

you took the challenge much to jake’s dismay. neytiri supported you. but for some reason, you felt extra nervous with tsu’tey watching you. but you ignored it long enough to finally tame your ikran, this time without falling off. it felt amazing, your first ride on your ikran. jake and neytiri joined you on their own ikrans.

and surprisingly tsu’tey did as well. and instead of finding another scowl on his face, he instead wore a smirk. you grinned at him, tightening your hold on your ikran, “race me?”

tsu’tey rolled his eyes, “i don’t race—”

“slow poke!” you took off. tsu’tey blinked in surprise but immediately smirked competitively before taking off after you.

that was it. it wasn’t your smile—well, maybe it was a part of it—but it was how you loosened him up and made him have fun. for that moment he wasn’t thinking about his duty as the olo’eyktan. all he could think about is beating you in your race and allowing himself to have fun. with you of all people.

neytiri gave him a knowing smirk later on. he rolled his eyes at her, “be quiet you.”

“you love her too.”

tsu’tey didn’t respond then. because he knew the two had fallen for you. and because he knew he had fallen for you too. he tried really hard not to. really he did.

becoming mates

when all three of them realized they were in love with you and wanted you as their mates to join their family, they gave you room to realize it yourself without pushing you. fortunately for them, you already loved them and were just waiting for them to tell you. basically one of you had to come out and say it or else you would be miserable idiots in love.

you had been playing with baby neteyam when mo’at dragged jake, neytiri, and tsu’tey into the marui, surprising you.

“i’ve had enough of all your moping. all four of you!” mo’at huffed. you looked away flustered while the other three stood sheepishly. mo’at rolled her eyes and turned to you, “do you want them as your mates.”

you blushed but nodded, “yes, if only—”

“good.” mo’at turned to the three who were now staring at you in shock. “and you want her as your mate as well i assume?”

tsu’tey looked to you, “do you truly accept us?”

you smiled at them, “of course i do. i wouldn’t have anyone else be my dear mates.”

mo’at grumbled, mumbling about “children” before leaving the four of you alone. jake knelt down in front of you, caressing your cheek, “how come you didn’t say anything?”

“how come you didn’t?” you raised your brows.

“we did not want to push you.” neytiri said, holding your hand to her cheek. “but we’ve accepted you long ago.”

the four of you mated before eywa. and had been together since.

your relationship

the four of you were just so in love with each other. and all of you showed it in different ways. in public, you were a lot more subtle about showing your affection for each other. neytiri and jake loved flying together. jake and tsu’tey enjoyed hunting together. and neytiri and tsu’tey explored the forest together.

with you it wasn’t any different. neytiri and you loved spending time together in silence. the two of you were so comfortable with each other that sometimes you wouldn’t even have to talk whenever you were alone with each other. sometimes you’d lie in each other’s laps, neytiri would do your hair, and you would show her new plants you collected from the day. quality time was your love language.

with jake he was a lot more physically affectionate than the other too. he was this way with the other two and it wasn’t any different with you. he’d find a way to touch you both in public and in private. in public he’d always have his hand on the small of your back or squeezing the space between your neck and shoulder. in private he’s all over you, kissing any part of your body, and holding you in his arms.

tsu’tey loved just having fun with you. whether that be flying or exploring the forest together, he was always at peace with you and relaxed. anytime he was free from olo’eyktan duties, he would always try finding ways to spend time with you. he’s always smiling around you and saying sweet nothings to you. he enjoys your kisses and your touch, the both of you enjoyed both quality time and physical affection.

you were all so in love with each other. none of you could imagine living without each other.

all of you especially enjoyed spending time with neteyam, especially when you're all together. then kiri came along. all of you were adamant on adopting her. tsu’tey especially since he cared for her mother, grace. he saw kiri as his own just the same as you, jake, and neytiri did.

both jake and tsu’tey were such girl dads with kiri. and you were so excited to grow your family and finally start your new life in pandora.

you weren’t alone anymore. you had your mates and your children. and that’s all you needed in the end.

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juanarc-thethird · 26 days

Note

Topic Idea based on Coco x Jaune Househusband: Jaune being asked to be the house husband of Winter?

Jaune's Apartment

*Ding Dong!*

Jaune: *Opens the door* Oh Winter! I'm glad you came.

Winter: No problem, thanks for inviting me to your get together. (This way I can see if you are worthy of my little sister)

Jaune: Thanks to you for coming, please come in.

Winter enters and sees that she is the first to arrive.

Jaune: The others don't take long to arrive. At the moment can I offer you something? Water, lemonade, um… Beer? I don't know if you drink or not.

Winter: *She keeps looking around* A lemonade is fine.

Jaune: Great, just a moment.

Winter: (He's attentive, that's good. Good start Jaune, good start)

While Jaune prepares the drink, Winter begins to inspect everything. He checks the furniture for dust, the windows for dirt, and even the floor for a hint of trash. But nothing, everything is clean. As if it were done by a professional.

Winter: (His apartment looks clean. My little sister would be comfortable living here.)

Jaune: Here is your lemonade.

He says as he approaches her to hand it to her.

Winter: *takes the glass* Thank you. By the way, who do you hire to clean your apartment?

Jaune: Nobody, I do everything myself.

Winter: Wait, you cleaned this apartment squeaky clean? You alone?

Jaune: Yes, it's something I learned living with 7 sisters. They really were a pain in the ass when it came to cleaning.

Winter: *Surprise* Wait, you were in charge of your household chores?

Jaune: Yeah, I was the one who cleaned the house, did the laundry, and even cooked.

Winter: *Curious* But your mom helped you, right? (It can't be possible for him to do everything alone.) *She puts her glass cup on a nearby table*

Jaune: Ahaha… *he laughs nervously*. Well, she's not very good at chores, so to speak. My dad and I were the ones who kept the house clean. But my dad works, so I did most of it.

Winter: (Wait so...) *Gets closer* So you know how to clean stains?!

Jaune: Ye-Yeah

Winter: *Closer* How about bathtub stains?!

Jaune: *Trying to move away* Th-That too

Winter: *Closer!* How about sewing?! Do you know how to do that too?!

Jaune: *Against the wall* M-My sisters always ripped their favorite clothes, so y-yeah.

Winter: (Oh my God! He is the perfect househusband! Weiss would be…! Weiss? Why does Weiss deserve such a man?)

Jaune: Um..Winter?

Winter: *Back to reality* Huh?

Jaune: Y-You are too close

Winter: Too close? *Gasp!* (Too close to my destiny!)

She takes both of Jaune's hands, drops to one knee, and with a voice of desire and hope she says.

Winter: Jaune Arc…

Jaune: *confuse* What are you doing?

Winter: would you marry me?

Jaune: *Red* Eh?!

At the time Winter said that, Nora and Ren were already entering the apartment using the extra key that Jaune gave them.

Nora: Hey Jaune, we brought the…

The two groups stare at each other

Nora: We'll come back later.

She says as she starts to close the door to leave them alone. But Jaune runs towards them and stops them.

Jaune: I-It's not what it looks like! There's nothing going on between us!!!

Winter: *Looking at him with desire* (Yet~💕)

---------

I look at Winter as a person who focuses on her work and family first before herself, and looks for the most efficient. That's why she looks for the best candidate for her sister. But what if that candidate is great for her? Love may not be the most important thing to her, but it's not something she's not willing to try~

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otomiyaa · 2 months

Text

From 🐺 To 🐶

Wriothesley x Lyney

A/N: This was such a joy to write. Special thanks to @lovelynim for the inspiration (this fic is a huge mashup of multiple loose ideas she had), and to @ticklygiggles for proofreading and motivating me with her enthusiasm.

Summary: Wriothesley has done it. He pissed Lyney off for being too rough. After a chilly silent treatment, Lyney gives him the chance to make amends. (Also on AO3)

Note: They have no canon ages in Genshin but in this fic they are both adults (Lyney young adult, Wriothesley some years older).

Word Count: 4K

Ah, wasn’t it just marvelous? That sweet, hysterical laughter. Those cute and rosy cheeks. The way he writhed and squirmed. Wriothesley only needed one hand to pin his boyfriend’s arms firmly above his head, and one hand to tickle him.

His fingers were long enough to touch multiple sensitive places all at once. And boy, Lyney was ticklish. What a delight.

“WRAHah-Wrioahaaha! Nohoho- ahahaha !” Lyney’s lovely sounds didn’t go wasted. Wriothesley embraced them, drank them like they were the finest tea.

Still holding Lyney’s arms firmly and pinning his legs with just his weight, straddling him effectively, Wriothesley spidered his fingers mercilessly all over Lyney’s small torso, digging into his sides and tummy and eliciting the most hysterical bouts of laughter.

“WAHAHah! Nohoh-ohohow stahahahp!” He had him right where he wanted. When he tickled Lyney’s armpit and realized he wasn’t going anywhere no matter what he tried, he released his arms and tickled his other armpit as well, digging his fingers under there to find the hidden treasure.

“And that activates the laughter,” Wriothesley commented dryly as if Lyney hadn’t been laughing all along.

“AHAHAHH! Wahahait- NAHA -” Lyney jolted and arched his back, helpless to Wriothesley’s merciless tickle attack.

“Plea-ahaha nohoho! I cahahan’t breheheathe!” Wriothesley only nodded in response. When he clawed up and down Lyney’s ribs, the hysterical laughter dissolved into the cutest pitchy shrieks and squeals.

“AAAaahhh! Nohohoooo staahhaap!” Just a little more… He dug his fingers into Lyney’s torso again, his fingers wiggling mercilessly and -

“AHAH Wrioehehehe - IT HURTS !” Wriothesley froze, his hands stopping their assault on Lyney abruptly, and he looked at his face. He looked - ahem. Cute, erotic, but also… Angry. His face was flushed, tears were sparkling in his eyes, and his brows were furrowed.

“Finally - you - stopped. Wriothesley.”

Wriothesley leaned back and looked at him in surprise. “Did I go too far? Did it tickle too much?” he asked. Lyney weakly moved up and gasped for air. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

“Don’t talk to me,” he said before getting up on shaking legs and walking away. Wriothesley watched him go. Oh no. He always playfully tickled Lyney and he would never be this angry?

“Lyney come on, I was just playing,” he said, following after him and placing a hand on his shoulder, turning him around. To his surprise, Lyney suddenly took his own shirt and lifted it, almost as if he was flashing him to seduce him, but it was to make a point.

“Just playing? Do you see this? I’ve been asking you to stop all this time, and yet you went on. You’re always too rough and I've had it!”

Wriothesley saw the red marks on Lyney’s delicate skin and he shook his head.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t realize - “ Lyney then showed him his arms, all red as well.

“Did I do that?” Wriothesley asked, perplexed, and he remembered pinning those arms down... Was it that rough? Lyney rolled his eyes and let out a frustrated grunt.

“Did you do that? Gee, I wonder who else has been pinning my arms and violated my whole body like I’m some sort of toy without feelings. It’s a miracle you didn’t crush me, Wrio. And you don’t listen so… Just leave me alone.”

Ouch.

Lyney went into the bathroom and before Wriothesley could say something, the door closed with a loud slam.

Oh no. He looked at his own hand and clenched it into a fist. Was he really that rough? He didn’t mean to hurt him. Of course he didn’t. It was just some playful tickling he thought. He was making Lyney laugh, he thought. They were having fun, he thought. Damn, he really hated himself for hurting the person he held so dear.

He waited until he heard the shower running and decided to put some effort into making up with Lyney. He rummaged into his storage and found some of the best and most valuable teas he had been saving for special moments. Well, this was a special moment… He needed Lyney to forgive him.

While Lyney showered, Wriothesley prepared the best quality tea for him, and put it on a tray together with a plate of Lyney’s favorite biscuits and some grapes.

When Lyney came out of the bathroom, dressed in one of Wriothesley’s oversized shirts - throb - Wriothesley gulped and quickly got up.

“Lyney, I’m so sorry. I made you some tea, it’s really good tea and should be a comfort to your eh, throat,” he said guiltily, realizing that Lyney must probably not only have a sore body, but a sore throat as well.

Lyney sat down on the couch and side-eyed him. He didn’t say a word, but judging from his attitude, he would accept the tea.

“Here,” Wriothesley said, handing him a cup. He was relieved when Lyney indeed accepted it and brought it to his lips. Wriothesley sat down next to him and waited awkwardly for him to drink it.

“Too bitter.”

Eh?! After just one taste, Lyney put down the tea and without even grabbing one of the biscuits, he got up again.

“Lyney wait,” he reacted, but Lyney shrugged and went to the bedroom. He closed the door behind him before Wriothesley could say anything. Argh. Wriothesley stared at the tea, then took it and gave it a taste.

It was fine, but… Ah right. He sighed. It was fine for him. Lyney liked his tea sweet. This was anything but sweet.

Wriothesley couldn’t believe he was ruining their weekend together. It wasn’t often that Lyney did not have performances to work on, and Wriothesley was busy with work almost 24/7.

Finally they were together for the whole weekend and he managed to piss Lyney off like this. Wonderful. At this rate, he was going to leave him. Wriothesley stared at his bedroom door and sighed. Well, he had work to do.

He gave it a second attempt. Lyney only deserved the bestest, sweetest tea in all of Teyvat. So Wriothesley again looked through his collection and found a tea kind from Mondstadt, made with Calla Lily which was known to not only be bitter but also sweet. If perfected with sugar and honey, it had to be to Lyney’s liking. While preparing the tea, Wriothesley started to realize how little he knew of Lyney’s preferences.

Or well, he did know about them, but how little he actually took them into consideration. Maybe that was how he ended up tickling Lyney until he was angry like this. To him, tickling was just some playful roughhousing, and maybe he didn’t know his own strength either... Oof, bad boyfriend behavior. He had to make it up to him.

“Hmm,” Wriothesley hummed, and he tasted the tea first. Oof, very sweet. He wasn’t a fan, but he was sure Lyney would like it. Satisfied, he knocked on the door and waited.

“Lyney, please. I remade the tea, can I come in?” It was his own bedroom, but right now Lyney was inside, so he had to be the gentleman he usually wasn’t…

“Fine,” Lyney said on the other side, so Wriothesley was glad to enter and found him on his bed, reading the book Aether had gotten him recently from Liyue.

Wriothesley put down the tray and gave him the tea. Lyney tasted it, and without a word, continued to drink.

“Is it good?” Wriothesley asked. Lyney nodded quietly.

“A-alright…” Wriothesley wasn’t sure what else to say or do. Maybe Lyney really wanted to be left alone now…

“Well, is there anything else I can get you?” Lyney shook his head. Oh.

“I see. Should I leave you alone?”

Lyney nodded again. Ah, that stung!

“Okay, I understand. Let me know if you need anything…” Wriothesley literally felt like a kicked dog as he left the bedroom again. Lyney liked the tea, which was good. But he was still angry. Surely he should’ve known a cup of nice tea wouldn’t make things magically better again.

So, he went out. By himself. Only to grant Lyney the time and space he needed, and of course, to visit some shops and buy some nice things to spoil him with. He found a cute plushie of a black cat and purchased it, then in the next store he also got Lyney a new mug, and a bag of sweets.

With these bags, he returned home. It was silent and Lyney couldn’t be seen, so without knocking he rushed into the bedroom, afraid that Lyney had already left.

“Ly- oh,” Wriothesley said, watching in surprise how Lyney was half naked. Lyney was just taking off his shirt, showing that sweet lovely skin Wriothesley loved to touch and tickle so much and - no! Bad Wriothesley!

“I’m sorry,” he apologized quickly, and he put down the bags.

“Are you going somewhere?” he asked. Lyney gave him a look. Oof, was he still that angry?!

“Some fresh air will do me good,” Lyney said. How mean. After Wriothesley just went out by himself. He sighed. Well, it wasn’t as if he invited Lyney to come with him…

“I got you something,” Wriothesley said, and he took the plushie out. It was wrapped in the prettiest wrapping paper, and he handed the gift to Lyney. Lyney stared at it.

“I don’t want it.”

Wriothesley almost fell backwards. “What do you mean?” he asked.

Lyney rolled his eyes. “I don’t want it. It’s not my birthday.” He continued dressing himself, and Wriothesley quickly got the other gifts out.

“I got you these too.” Like he feared, Lyney only eyed the gifts but didn’t bother unwrapping them.

“Nice. We can save them for my birthday.”

Wha-! Wriothesley dropped the bags and grabbed Lyney’s shoulders.

“Lyney, stop being like this. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I said I was sorry right? What else do you want me to do? How will you forgive me?”

Wriothesley asked. Lyney only stared back at him.

“I’ll do anything,” Wriothesley insisted. Ah, now there was some response. Lyney raised an eyebrow.

“Anything…?” he asked.

Wriothesley nodded. “Anything. Whatever you want,” he confirmed. Lyney hummed.

“So… If I say: I want you to let me tickle you, you will do it?”

Ah, it was still about tickling? Wriothesley nodded. “Of course!” If it was still about tickling, he should’ve just gone ahead and told Lyney he could tickle him back, if that was all he wanted! Stupid of him to not even think of that!

“For as long as I want to?” Lyney asked. Wriothesley nodded again.

“Sure!” It wasn’t as if he was super ticklish or anything. Lyney could tickle him however he pleased for as long as he liked.

“Good. I will teach you the difference between your technique and mine,” Lyney said. So, he was going to tickle him softly, was that it?

“Of course, go ahead!” Lyney appeared a little surprised that he agreed just like that. Perhaps a ticklish person like Lyney couldn’t comprehend that someone would submit so easily to a tickle torture on voluntary basis.

“Good. Then we will do it now.”

“Right now, wonderful. What do you want me to do, should I undress?” Wriothesley asked eagerly, relieved that this would also stop Lyney from leaving.

“Just your jacket,” Lyney commanded, so Wriothesley took off his jacket.

“And your pants,” Lyney added. Wriothesley had to fight the perverted thoughts coming in as he stripped while Lyney still gave him this cold stare. When he was just in his T-shirt and underwear, Wriothesley stood in front of him and spread his arms.

"All yours, baby,” he said jokingly. Lyney still hadn’t melted his ice, and he simply gestured that Wriothesley should move to the bed. So he climbed on his bed and went to lie down on his back.

“Like this?” he asked. Without answering, Lyney climbed on top of him and eventually straddled him.

“Hmhm. Comfortable?” Lyney asked, staring down at him. Even when angry, he was so considerate. Wriothesley only started to feel worse about treating Lyney so roughly…

“Yes, I’m fi-” Before Wriothesley could finish his answer, Lyney reached out and without warning scribbled his fingers against Wriothesley’s lower stomach.

“Hohaha,” Wriothesley let out a strange sound as the ticklish sensation surprised him. Lyney repeated the soft tickle, his fingertips fluttering against his abdomen. Despite wearing his shirt, he could feel the tingly sensations right through it, and he shuddered.

“Ohohoh w-we’re hehe stahaharting ahahalready hmhmhm?” he chuckled, surprised that he already felt the urge to laugh while Lyney barely used any pressure.

“Yes, so hold still,” Lyney said, using his other hand to wiggle his fingers against his side. Just softly, without digging in too much, but enough to tickle.

“Hnghh yehehes o-of couhourse,” Wriothesley giggled. How silly. The reflex to move his arms was really there already, but he didn’t want to be in Lyney’s way. Lyney’s touch was so soft and delicate, like Lyney himself. It suited him. His fingers scratched very softly, rubbing circles against Wriothesley’s sides and tummy and causing him to let out a stream of giggles he had preferred to hold back.

“Hehehehe ahahalright y-you’re quihiihite good ahaaht thiihis,” he laughed to encourage Lyney. It felt quite ticklish, but he wouldn’t call it torture. More like a massage that made him laugh. It actually felt pleasant.

“Ahhhahah!” Wriothesley jumped when Lyney’s fingers moved under his shirt. It felt entirely different to have those soft tickles on his bare skin, and he began to squirm.

“A-ahahare you ehehenjoying yoursehehelf?” he asked Lyney, but he didn’t get a response. Lyney’s fingers tickled their way up his ribs and paid thorough attention to them, scribbling and fluttering as if Wriothesley’s ribs were the magician’s new musical instrument. They then traveled to his bare tummy and spidered lightly, causing Wriothesley to jump a second time and - oops.

“Wrio?” Lyney asked in a warning tone when Wriothesley had grabbed Lyney’s wrist.

“Hehehe reflex, sorry about that,” Wriothesley giggled, and he put his arms back beside himself. He hesitated and then raised them above his head.

“I’ll - I’ll put them like this,” he said, and Lyney eyed him coldly.

“Good.” Wriothesley braced himself for the continuation of the tummy tickles, only for Lyney to suddenly reach for his exposed and vulnerable armpits.

“HYAh!” Wriothesley let out the most embarrassing sound and moved his arms down in an instant.

“It can’t tickle you this much, move your arms. I remember you telling me you’re not that ticklish at all, so it shouldn't be hard to keep your arms up,” Lyney said, wiggling his fingers gently against Wriothesley’s armpits despite his desperate attempts to defend them.

“Ahahaha I’m nohohot uhuhused to thihis!” Wriothesley laughed. He could remember it too; him telling Lyney confidently that he could try and tickle him back but that it would be no use, since he was not that ticklish. He then proceeded to tickle poor Lyney to tears. One of the many times… To think that Lyney put up with his apparent rough and ruthless tickle attacks for so long, and here Wriothesley was, already squirming and wriggling because of this very soft and gentle tickle session.

“Are you really going to keep moving your arms? I can’t tickle you properly,” Lyney complained when Wriothesley again moved his arms to cover up his most sensitive areas.

“If you can’t keep your hands away, I’m afraid I’ll have to use this.”

Wriothesley heard a familiar sound, and the next second he saw his very own handcuffs being twirled around by Lyney. He was sure he carried those handcuffs on him earlier as he went out, kind of a habit even on his day off. When did he…?

“Did you forget your boyfriend is a magician?” Lyney asked, judging the confused look on Wriothesley’s face.

“No I… I’m sorry.”

“Will you keep your hands out of the way, or do we cuff them?” Lyney proposed. Wriothesley shook his head.

“I’ll keep them out of the way. AHh-hehehe!” He was immediately laughing again and his hands shot forward to catch Lyney’s fingers that had tickled his hips all of a sudden.

“Y-you caught me off-guard!” Wriothesley whined, but Lyney shook his head and took the cuffs in his hands. He lifted himself off Wriothesley and flipped him over on his stomach. Just like that!

“We will do it like this,” he said, cuffing Wriothesley’s hands behind his back. Wriothesley wasn’t protesting but… he was also still processing the fact that Lyney was tying him up. He was going to tickle him while in a helpless state.

“That’s… Unfair. I never cuffed your hands when tickling you,” he tried to reason calmly.

“Did you ever need to? Besides, what’s so bad about handcuffs? I know how to free myself from them. I’m sure you can do it as well, no need to be a magician for that, not-so-ticklish Mr. Wriothesley,” Lyney lectured. Eep. Wriothesley blushed for getting himself into this position, and he wondered how he was going to endure this. His confidence had kind of faded...

He waited for Lyney to turn him back around, only to suddenly feel an unbearable ticklish sensation on his sides as Lyney had wriggled his fingers there so he could brush against his bare sides and tummy from behind.

“Nahhah! Hehehe-” Wriothesley laughed. Maybe this position was a blessing. He was anything but cool right now and wouldn’t want to face Lyney like this!

“Does that tickle?” Lyney teased.

“Yehehes! It does- hahahaa!” Wriothesley felt his laughter increase and increase even more, especially when Lyney’s fingers climbed back up his ribs again. He squirmed and struggled, but with his hands tied behind his back, he really was more helpless than he had ever been before.

And with those ticklish sensations intensifying…

“Lyehehe-Lyney! I’m reheheally sohohorry!” he apologized through uncontrollable giggles.

“Are you now?” Lyney sang. His fingers arrived at his armpits again and managed to find those sweet spots that made Wriothesley jump. He felt Lyney bounce on top of him, still straddling him, and more laughs and cackles left his lips.

“Eeehehehee! Dahahaamnh!” He wriggled from side to side. That tickled so bad! And still all this time, Lyney was only using minimal pressure. After tickling his armpits until Wriothesley’s voice got even louder, Lyney’s light tickles moved towards his neck. It was a spot Wriothesley hadn’t even tried on Lyney before since he’d just squeeze and claw at Lyney’s slender torso until he cackled, but he realized the neck could be rather sensitive with how much he was laughing and writhing.

“Nohohot thehehere!” he whined, moving his head from side to side. It was such a vulnerable spot, and Lyney skilfully trailed his fingers against the skin of his neck, under his chin, even his ears. Why did it tickle so much!

“Not here, really? Is this the spot?” he heard Lyney ask. Before he could process what happened, Lyney managed to flip him over on his back again with surprising strength for a guy so small. And finally Wriothesley could see his face again and… He was relieved to see him smile. He no longer had the cold aura around him. The look in his eyes was as soft and tender as his tickles were, and Wriothesley couldn’t help but blush and feel shy under his judging gaze all of a sudden.

“Plehehease,” he whined when Lyney’s fingers scribbled randomly at any spot they could find under his shirt. He arched his back and gasped.

“Please what?” Lyney asked, probably thinking he was going to beg him to stop the tickling.

“Kihihiss me,” Wriothesley giggled instead. He was so in need of that affection after seeing Lyney angry. Lyney smiled and leaned in.

“Ask again,” he said with a smirk, his fingers finding a really sensitive spot right at his waist and tickling it very softly with his nails.

“HNghehehhe! Kiss me,” Wriothesley moaned softly. Lyney finally closed the final distance between them and kissed him. Their lips moved together while Lyney’s fingers continued to explore the most sensitive places on his body. Which was... anywhere actually, Wriothesley learned. From his tummy to his sides, and he even moved his hands further and found a really sensitive spot on his lower back that made Wriothesley shudder when it was tickled with quick and soft little scribbles.

“AHhhaha not thehehere!” he laughed again, but Lyney shut him up with another kiss. Damn! Wriothesley’s entire body was on fire as he moaned, his giggles muffled while Lyney continued to kiss him more passionately.

They kissed and kissed, he laughed and giggled, and all of a sudden he heard a click. His hands were released from the handcuffs. He had no idea how his magical boyfriend did that so smoothly without him noticing, but he wasn’t going to ask.

Satisfied with his freedom, he immediately wrapped Lyney into his arms and kissed him as if his life depended on it. However even while kissing, he now remembered: soft. He didn’t need to pin him down or squeeze him firmly, or kiss him without a break until he couldn’t breathe. He shouldn’t hold him too tightly, he shouldn't do anything that might hurt him. He could take it slow and easy, and he realized that was how Lyney enjoyed it the most.

With Lyney still on top of him, they made out, and finally when they pulled apart, Wriothesley asked, just to be on the same page: “Are you still angry?”

Lyney smiled. “I was never angry.”

Wriothesley frowned. “Hm? You were very angry.”

“Wasn’t. How else was I going to let you submit to this?” Lyney asked, demonstrating by tickling Wriothesley’s cheek and neck softly. Wriothesley responded with a sudden giggle and he twitched.

“Buhuhut…” Before he could ask, Lyney kissed him again.

“You forgot again. Your boyfriend is a magician, but also a performer. I know how to act.”

“Really?”

“Of course I was a little irritated. You tickled me so much until it did hurt a little, and I was also embarrassed. But everything else was just me making sure this would happen,” Lyney admitted, and he tickled Wriothesley again.

“I cahan’t believe y-you hehehe,” Wriothesley laughed, but he couldn’t help but hug him tightly again. He loved his boyfriend so much, and everyday he would still learn new things about him.

“So... About those gifts…” Lyney finally said, and he looked at the bags.

“May I still receive them? I’m curious what they are.”

Wriothesley chuckled and shook his head. “Of course. They’re all yours baby.” And he watched fondly how Lyney jumped off the bed and rushed towards the bags with adorable excitement. Yeah, never a dull day with a ticklish and sneaky cheeky magician Fatui as his boyfriend. But Wriothesley wouldn’t trade him for anyone else!

[Epilogue]

“Ahahahah! Wrioheheh-Wriothesleheheey! Nohoho!” Lyney couldn’t stop giggling as Wriothesley lightly tickled his stomach and sides.

Hugging his newly gifted cat plushie tight didn’t give him any protection. The plushie even happened to be a nuisance when Wriothesley’s fingers found his underarms and brushed gently against the spots. Embracing the plushie, it was hard to move his arms, and Lyney kicked as a reflex. Of course that didn’t affect his huge boyfriend in the slightest.

“Hehehehe not thehehere! I cahahan’t mohohove!”

It was the morning after a long and lustful night during their weekend together, and Lyney was currently facing Wriothesley’s wrath and revenge for tricking him the previous day. Well, it did result in something. He now tickled him with so much care, softness and tenderness. In a way it felt even more ticklish than ever. It felt better.

“Do you want me to stop? Just say the word.”

Ah, they had also officially introduced a safeword now: “Nehehever!” Alright, that wasn’t the actual safeword. No way would Lyney surrender now. But, the safeword was ‘jellyfish’. Just a random word they came up with together during their heated night together, but with the way Wriothesley was indulging him right now, Lyney doubted he should ever use it.

“Alright, then I’ll continue tickling you just as I please~”

Wriothesley sounded so happy and content that Lyney couldn’t help but feel that his little act really paid off. Just another improvement in his remarkable romance with the Lord of the Fortress of Meropide!

#genshin impact #wrioney #tickling #tickle fic #wriothesley #lyney #wriothesley x lyney #advice if you enjoyed this: look up [wrioney] on twitter #so much glorious fanart with them #I'm STUCK in the algorithm and happy there<3 #otomiya!writes #lee!lyney #lee!wriothesley #ler!lyney #ler!wriothesley

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procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics · 10 months

Text

Patience is the Virtue of a Lady

Summary: As Daemon's wife, you are left humiliated by your errant husband. As the product of an annulled marriage, you are seen as barren and tainted, left to befriend Queen Alicent, gaining the reputation of an unsalvageable woman over the years.

But, the heart wants what it wants, and you have had your eyes on unattainable Ser Criston for years.

Notes: anon’s mind is imploding with the amount of genius in it. thank you for requesting, i was on my knees for this idea

Warnings: smut, religious undertones, afab!reader, daemon is an ass, criston is an ass, reader is genuinely not having a great time (at first ahaha), religious/vow-related guilt, slight size kink?

Taglist: @majesticwren @obsessiveformiyatwins @a-beaverhausen @ilikeitbetterangsty @levithestripper (adding you tentatively, jack, hmu to be added to any!)

based on this request | masterlist | requests are OPEN! (and i'm back to writing!!)

Daemon never cared to hide his straying looks, and you knew of his habits. Whoring, drinking, murdering – and yet, you were lucky for having married a Targaryen Prince. You kept your mouth shut, knowing that you would, otherwise, end like your predecessor, Rhea Royce.

Why Viserys had insisted Daemon marry against his will again, you’d never understand.

You kept your mouth shut, through whores, paramours and treason. You played your part, as everyone did in the court. And when your eyes strayed, they did so secretly and carefully. You chose to stare at someone you could not attain anyway.

A kingsguard was your safest bet at something that would never happen anyway. You seethed against the humiliation of your husband and sought your own distraction. Even when Daemon stared hungrily at Rhaenyra, a girl, you said naught.

Targaryen tradition – you did not know if you could argue with that. But Rhaenyra was barely fifteen. She was beautiful, yes, but even now, the fact that your husband would prefer a girl over you stung.

In the early days of your marriage, you had gone to the sept every day, beseeching the Mother to give you a child, even if your husband refused to touch you beyond a drunken wedding night, in which he had failed to even come close to producing a child. Now, you were glad for your childless state, even if the court whispered that you were barren.

So when Daemon left your shared chambers, which were an order of the king, you bade him goodnight and turned back to your reading. Still, you stared from your balcony out at the small spot outside the Red Keep he always appeared in after a while.

A secret entrance only Daemon knew how to use. You held your breath when a small figure appeared first, silver hair glinting in the moonlight.

Rhaenyra.

A few moments later, Daemon appeared, and they disappeared into the city.

The rumors in the days to come were enough for you to draw your own conclusions, but to your surprise, Ser Criston was soon included in them, which stung more than anything. You’d deemed him safe to keep as your own in secret, and yet, Rhaenyra had not only taken your husband from you, but also him.

It hurt more than the annulment of your marriage that Daemon brought forth. You only nodded through the process, letting the Septon say what he wanted, and Daemon tell as many lies as he needed.

And so, your name was yours again and all you were in court was the former wife of Prince Daemon. Your family seethed, ready to remove you from court until Queen Alicent asked you to become her lady-in-waiting, and you were once again stuck in a court of lies.

Ser Criston grew bitter over Rhaenyra, but instead of becoming your friend, he began to worship Queen Alicent. It wasn’t lust, it wasn’t love, but something queer in between.

In his own twisted way, he once again wanted anyone but you, and it stung when it shouldn’t have. Weren’t you supposed to be past this?

And yet, you tortured yourself, watching as he raised Alicent’s children as his own and continued to barely spare you a glance. The court grew disinterested in you, and you continued to lead a life as quiet as before, turning into a lonely spinster with the years.

Only now, you turned to the Father in the Sept, begging for purpose. For anything to happen in your life that might make it worth something.

And then, Lady Laena died. Beautiful, magical, mysterious Lady Laena, who you’d never known and yet loved for ridding you of your husband was dead.

You attended the funeral, even prayed for her, hoping that she would find peace – a thing you thought highly unlikely for a wife of Daemon. You watched as Daemon once again practically drooled over Rhaenyra, and watched as she did the same. Alicent saw it, too.

“It appears as if some things do not change.” Alicent commented dryly. It was treason, what she said, but her nerves had been frayed for the past few weeks, and she knew you would not speak ill of her to the king. You wouldn’t have made a difference to frail King Viserys anyway.

“No, my queen.” You sighed. “But it is not me he is humiliating this time.”

“That did not make you deserve it.” Alicent replied, ever gracious. She slipped her arm into yours, as if you were still the young, disappointed women you had once been and led you away from the balcony. Ser Criston followed dutifully, and for some reason, it felt as if his eyes were burning into your back.

Rhaenyra and Daemon disappeared together, and everyone in their presence trained their eyes to the ground, pretending not to see. Your hand curled into a fist instinctually, feeling old anger and disappointment bubble back up in you.

Perhaps, if you had been bolder, you could have reigned Daemon in. You could have been queen consort, and saved Alicent all her pain. They were silly thoughts, and yet, they made you leave the room, and make for your chambers.

You almost screamed when you saw a dark figure sitting in them, back turned to you, until you recognized dark curls and white armour.

“I almost thought Daemon had finally sent someone after me.” You mumbled, half to yourself. Criston turned, looking right through you.

“Ser Criston?” You asked carefully. He’d grown older, as all of you had, but his beauty remained to him. Criston stayed silent, still staring.

“Criston?” You tried again, calling him by his first name this time, and slowly, he seemed to see you standing across from him.

“She could have had me, and freedom. She chose this prison, you know?” Criston told you. For a moment, your felt confused, before you realised that he was speaking of Rhaenyra, still heartbroken. Of course.

“What are you doing in my chambers, ser?” You asked. Ser Criston laughed dryly.

“You never deserved what he did to you. Prince Daemon dishonored you.” Ser Criston continued, not answering your question. “A lady so beautiful any a man would have been grateful to have you as their wife, and yet, he threw you away for nothing at all.”

Nothing. He had called beautiful Laena, wild Rhaenyra nothing at all. What treason, and how your heart loved to hear it.

You swallowed down your bitterness, ignoring the fluttering feeling in your stomach as Ser Criston called you beautiful. Yet, you kept your guard up. This place was only an extension of King’s Landing, reeking of corruption just as much. For a moment, you considered whether, mayhaps, this was some kind of ploy.

Ser Criston stood so suddenly you took a step back instinctively. He passed you, and you thought that he was going to leave, tired of your company. Instead, he closed the door in front of him. The lock clicked into place, a cacophony of sound in the silence that hung over the room. You held your breath, praying to the gods that nothing would happen to you.

He began to close the distance between you, and you began to back up, until your knees hit the bed, and you fell backwards. Criston was still walking, still closing in on you like prey, and you felt yourself scramble backwards. The headboard stopped your attempt to flee, forcing you to look at Ser Criston.

He stood at the end of the bed, his hand on his sword. Could you make a run for it? Where was there to run?

His swordbelt unravelled, and the weapon hit the ground with a quiet thud. Criston only waited, staring at you expectantly. What did he want?

Slowly, you felt yourself freeze out of place, dragging yourself across the bed towards the end of it, where he stood solemnly. Carefully, you reached up, putting a hand on his shoulder. You heard him inhale shakily.

“Ser Criston, are you alright?” You asked. A pause, then, a shaky breath and a shrug that turned into a shake of his head. “Ser?”

“I’m sorry.” Criston said finally. Carefully, his hand took yours. You stared down, looking at the dark grey glove that covered his hand, starkly contrasting the white of the rest of his uniform. The leather felt soft against your hand, and it was that you tried to focus on, not the fact that you were holding the man’s hand in yours.

“What for?” You asked, smiling up at him nervously. You hated the position you were in, the vulnerability of it. Your neck was craned to look up at him, and you were practically kneeling on the bed. If anyone found you like this, they would accuse you of unthinkable things… Alicent would never forgive you.

“For not defending you. For what I am to do.” Criston said. “Both tarnish my knighthood, my white cloak… tarnishing you.”

You opened your mouth to speak. “What you are about to…”

As Ser Criston pulled off his gloves, cupping your face with his left hand, you trailed off. You could hear your heart beating in your chest. You wanted to pinch yourself. Surely, you were dreaming. This was not real.

Yet, even if it was, you did not care to move away from him. Instead, his lips found yours, soft and gentle in their own way. You felt yourself reciprocate, though you knew that you should not. You should not be doing this, betraying Alicent in this way and yet…

He sighed into the kiss, and the thought disappeared in the fuzz of your mind. You were unable to think, almost unable to breathe. Gods, how long you had waited for this moment. Weeks, months, years.

“Do not give in.” Criston begged. You paused, breaking the kiss to look at him, but no words left your mouth. He repeated his own once, before something shifted in his eyes. This time, he kissed you less softly, and more so like in the bawdy tales your sister had told you. And you found yourself reeling, your hands against his chestplate to steady yourself.

Even as his hands slip under your dress and travel up your thighs, he begged. “Please, stop me.” He whispered. You shook your head in saccharine betrayal and Criston rested his on your shoulder for a moment. His hands left your thighs, leaving the skin hot and burning, and snaked up your neck, cradling your head. They were big, encompassing your skull and somehow, that made your breath hitch.

Hands that were made to kill, and yet, he was holding you so gently, as if you were fragile. A sudden boldness made you speak.

“Do you want me?” you asked. He lifted his head, nodded almost frantically and you made your choice.

Had the distance between you two really been that dramatically large? It felt as if there was no world around you, only your lips on his, his hands touching, holding as your husband should have held you. As you should have held your children.

Oh how you had longed for years, had none of it, and watched as others had been destroyed, by husbands, by children… yet it still felt so deeply unfair that you could not bring yourself to feel guilty for this little thing. Just this once.

You let Criston kiss you, worship you with his hands as he took his time, carefully unlacing your dress, letting the fabric pool around you. Still, you sat on the edge of the bed, looking up at him. He loomed in his armor, dwarfed you from this perspective.

When you were finally in your shift, you could not help shivering. Criston looked at you with worry in his eyes, before he slipped away, stoking the fire in the furnace. The heat did not match the feeling his hands left on your skin.

He stood before the fireplace, his silhouette illuminated as he took off his armor. The chestplate, the padding, all those parts that shielded him when he did his duties were discarded carelessly on the floor, a stark contrast to his eyes, trained to the ground.

The shadows that flickered through the room, created by candles and fire illuminate the muscles of his back as his dressshirt joined his armor on the ground. You could feel yourself biting your lips to keep yourself from making unladylike sounds.

When Criston returned to the bed, you expected him to push you into the bed, to climb atop you and do what Daemon could not. Instead, he fell to his knees before you at the end of the bed. Confused, you stared down at him.

“What are you doing?” you asked him. He did not answer, his eyes dark as he stared up at you, filled with things you would never tell your septon about. His hands pushed up the seams of your shift until it bunched at your hips.

Suddenly, you felt exposed, and your legs crossed automatically. You sat up straight, as you had been taught, until Criston’s hand returned to your knee, patient, waiting. You understood. Slowly, you uncrossed your legs again.

You still felt exposed as Criston began to place kisses on your knee, even more so when his mouth wandered upwards, towards your thighs. He had kissed your mouth, had barely kissed your neck and now he looked like he wanted to devour your thighs.

Criston took his time sucking marks into the flesh of your thighs, marking it as his, you suddenly realized. And how you loved to be loved.

His mouth moved upwards with a pace that was so slow it almost became painful. You felt a moan escape you, covering your mouth immediately. Criston, looking up again, shook his head. You felt confused – wanton sounds, those were condemned by the church. They could not possibly be what he, such a devout man, would want to hear?

Only, Criston wasn’t that devout after all, was he?

And when his lips touched your cunt in devout prayer, you answered in such currency. Eagerly, his tongue licked a stripe up your cunt, flicking the nub at the top with impatient insistence until you felt your back weaken. You let yourself fall backwards onto the mattress with a girlish ease you had not felt in years, but suddenly it was there, and you were floating…

How had the septons dared to tell you all this was sin? How could that be true? How could it be when-

Criston never ceased his movements when you grew louder, trying to contain your sounds to the confines of your chambers. A knot was beginning to tie itself in your stomach, growing tighter and tighter until you were begging Criston for something – you didn’t know what it was, except that he knew, that he would give it to you.

And then, suddenly, the knot was gone, and something else took its place. You weren’t sure if this was something you had ever felt before because it was all-consuming, washing over you like a golden wave and pulling you under. The tension, the pressure, all of it was gone, replaced by white-hot pleasure and your eyes rolled backwards, your back arching off the bed towards Criston.

Coming down from you high, you felt Criston slowly removing your shift, continuing his worship on your stomach and your chest, sucking and biting skin until he felt you squirm beneath him. It was then that he looked at you, smirking, but you could see that his eyes were full of something no one had ever looked at you with.

Not desire, nor lust, for you had seen those in men who eyed you greedily during banquets. It was not the empty, sad stare King Viserys gave Alicent. No, it was the glances Ser Harwin had thrown at Rhaenyra before her death. The look of adoration Queen Aemma had held for King Viserys all those years ago…

You had no need to say the word, for you knew, and it made your head spin. Could it be?

His hands pulled your shift over your head, until you were bare for him. He was still wearing breeches, but you could see the strain beneath them. Filled with sudden confidence, you pulled him towards you, kissing Ser Criston and wrapping your legs around his waist in a desperation to have him close to you.

Your hands fumbled at the laces of his breeches clumsily, until he gently removed them, doing the work himself. You could see Criston’s cock, half-concealed by the shadows between you and the dark, and yet, you knew it was bigger than Daemon’s. The thought of it made you afraid and your face heat up at the same time.

His hand moved languidly while he leaned down to kiss you. When his hips bucked into his hand, you heard yourself beg him for it, and that seemed to change something in him. Suddenly, Criston seemed hungry.

You could feel him between your legs, and then, you weren’t all that confident anymore. But Ser Criston held you close, whispering reassurances and praise until you could feel him enter you. There was a small stretch, a small feeling of discomfort, and Ser Criston halted his movements for a bit.

When you nodded, he began to move, his body rocking into you. He seemed to know what he was doing when he rolled his hips, stimulating that spot inside of you you had no idea existed in the first place.

The first time he hit it, you felt the air knocked out of you from pleasure. And then, the feeling became a rapid addiction. Your hands dragged his chest to yours, your legs wrapping around his waist again in an attempt to urge him to move faster, harder, to make you feel good.

Ser Criston, the perfect white knight, obliged. He snapped his hips against yours, angling them upwards and giving you something that you had not thought would work that way, feel that way.

“Please, Criston.” You gasped.

“Please what? What do you need, my lady?” Criston replied, his words coming in short intervals. He was just as gone as you, you realized, and that only added to your own high.

“Oh Gods,” you began. “Criston, I don’t know, I- please, please,…”

He rested his head in the crook of your neck again, but this time, his teeth found your shoulder, biting down gently at first. The pain was good. It added an edge you had no idea you needed, brought you back down into a realm where you could form some coherent thought.

The knot you had felt before, the tension that had turned into a coil in your stomach returned with a sudden fervency. This time, the feeling was there more quickly, more intense and it was almost too much. At the same time, you felt as if you would die if it stopped.

Criston seemed to feel it, and only later would you realise that your cunt was clenching around him so tightly that he was having difficulty not to moan as loudly as you. But Criston continued, and he pushed you over the edge, leaving you reeling in pleasure as his hand clapped over your mouth to muffle a scream.

He followed soon after, only that he refused to spend his seed inside you, instead painting your stomach with it. You know why he did it, and yet, it somehow still hurt. Before you could ponder too much on the matter, Criston disappeared, returning with his breeches on and a rag in hand. He cleaned you while you lied on the bed, the soreness beginning to sneak in after your high.

Afterwards, Criston lied down next to you. He did not speak, but he did not pray either, and for that, you were glad. And still, he was the one who pulled you closer. You held onto him, basked in his warmth.

Finally, your patience and virtue had been rewarded. You did not waste a single thought on what would come in the future, only that this was right, and no septon nor Alicent would be able to convince you otherwise (not that you would tell them about this to begin with).

You could feel yourself dozing off in your white knight’s arms, until the alarm bells of High Tide suddenly began to rang. As the castle came alive under the signal, Criston shot up, and so did you. Shouts passed your door, and he scrambled to put on his armor.

Never a moment’s peace in this world.

#criston #criston x reader #ser criston #ser criston x reader #ser criston cole #ser criston cole x reader #criston cole #criston cole x reader #smut #criston cole smut #hotd #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd smut #criston cole imagine #minor #rhaenyra targaryen x daemon targaryen #request #criston cole angst

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benedictscanvas · 10 months

Note

Hi! I’m such a huge fan of your Ted Lasso fics! I completely agree that there’s not enough Roy Kent fics out there. I was wondering if I could request a fic where Roy has feelings for the physiotherapist on the team and she has feelings for him too, and he’s all upset after his final game because he won’t be able to see her anymore and he’s worried she’s upset because he undid all her hard work rehabbing his knee, but it’s all sweet and yearning. I know that’s a lot so if it’s not your thing, absolutely no worries!

i've been meaning to get to this one, because i really like it!! and i just want to thank you for ur support because ur user pops up a lot in my notifs and i appreciate you so much <3 also i've made up roy's injury and keeley is with jamie in this ahaha | 2k words (!!), tw language, hurt/comfort

Roy is barely holding himself together.

He sinks down onto the bench in the dressing room and stares straight away, eyes burning. It's like his whole body is on fire and he knows if he held his hand in front of his face, it would be shaking. He doesn't try it, instead curls his hands into fists, clenching the bench below him.

He's fucked it.

His knee. His career. His life. It had been coming, he knew, but he still expected to have a year or two left in him. Some time to come to terms with his whole world coming crashing down around him. Instead he does one stupid fucking tackle on Jamie fucking Tartt and now he's done. Even the crowd had known it. The thought of them chanting for him brings back a lump in his throat.

He sees a shadow at the door and hangs his head. Knows the outline of you too well to pretend it's anyone else. You've come to shout at him, or slap him around the face, or maybe mock him. Whatever it is, he doesn't want to hear it.

You enter silently other than the door clicking shut behind you, but Roy doesn't look up to greet you. He keeps his eyes on the floor.

"I don't-" he clears his throat when his voice comes out all hoarse. All wrong, "I don't want to hear it. I fucked it, I know, and I don't want to fucking hear it."

You don't respond, instead walking further over to him and crouching down in front of him. He'd waved you away on the pitch, surprised that you'd let him stand up and walk off. He didn't look back at you when he did, knowing all he'd see would be disappointment.

You've got your physio bag, he notices, and you're unzipping it, rifling through the contents.

"There's no point. Get out, Y/N," he tries again, voice more desperate this time, "Please."

"Would you just shut the fuck up?" you say suddenly, louder than the quiet room deserved. You sigh, at yourself it seems, but Roy is frozen in place. He'd prepared himself for you to come and shout at him, but still hadn't expected you to really do it. You never shouted.

Still, he did as he was told, because he was too stunned to argue with you.

You get an icepack on his knee immediately, grumbling under your breath but he can't make out the words. There's some gel that you rub on too, and that eases some of the pain he's in, not that he can bring himself to say thank you. When you've properly secured the icepack to his knee, you finally look up at his face.

"You might have hurt yourself more by refusing that stretcher, you twat," you spit out, and he can see the anxiety swirling across your whole face, "Why do you have to be so..."

You trail off, scoffing to yourself without finishing your sentence as your gaze drops back down to his knee. Roy is tired and in pain and frustrated - all three of which were reasons for not wanting to have this conversation right now.

"Reckless? Fucking stupid? Old as shit? It's just what I fucking am, alright? I couldn't let that shit score, and now it's over. Fucking all of it."

He hears his voice get small towards the end. You're back looking at him and shaking your head before he's even finished.

"For the season, yeah. Then we get back to fucking work, Kent. We can start you on the slow stuff, rebuild the strength. I can assess whether you'll need an op-"

"Y/N."

"Don't," you say harshly, pointing up at him, but there's a break in your voice he doesn't know what to do with, "You're not done."

"We both know that it's my fucking ACL. Two years recovery time, more 'cause I'm fucking ancient. It's over."

He sees the tears in your eyes then. Fuck. One minute he thought you were unbearably angry with him, now you were on the verge of crying? He felt slow in a whole new way, unable to keep up with where this was going.

"You've worked so fucking hard," you grind out, "It can't just...if I'd done more on your knee the last few weeks maybe...We knew it was a problem. I could have-"

It hits him like a freight train when he realises all your anger is directed at yourself. That you're blaming yourself, not him. He gulps, watches you staring off in the direction of Ted's office as your tears fall.

You've worked together ceaselessly this season. He needs a lot of treatment in a lot of areas nowadays, not that he likes to admit it. You've been there every step of the way, poking and prodding and kneading out every knot, but also laughing. Eating the occasional breakfast when he comes in early for you to work on him.

He's not sure he's ever been this into someone before. Where it's crept up on him slowly and then washed over him all at once - about a month ago when Phoebe visited Richmond. Seeing you with her was like seeing some kind of future he never thought he'd have.

He still didn't think he'd have it. This injury was proof enough that good things didn't have a habit of coming his way. It was why he'd kept quiet about it ever since he realised rather than pouring his heart out to you.

"Hey," he says gruffly, completely out of his depth, "You're blaming yourself? I thought you were fucking livid with me."

Your eyes shoot back to his despite their bloodshot nature. Despite the situation, he watches as you giggle in disbelief.

"Angry with you? When has that ever fucking happened?" you say wetly, wiping at your face with rough fingertips, "I'm your physio, Roy, I'm meant to prevent this shit. And fix it. And now I can't fucking do either."

A fresh wave of tears bubbles up over your eyelids and travels down your face as you let out a sob. It's the first time he thinks about another side effect of his career ending - he'll have to leave Richmond. All the people he's come to love, despite really not wanting to. That would include you.

With an instinct he didn't know he had, he reached out to tug on your hand. You looked up at him in surprise, but he helps to pull you up with a small groan when you don't really let him take any of your weight. He guides you to sit next to him on the bench, so you do, sniffling uncontrollably.

"You've done a fucking lot for me these last few years. Especially this season. Don't fucking beat yourself up about this. I'm the one who made the stupid tackle."

"He was through on goal. You stopped him."

"And it might not make a fucking difference."

"It might," you try, crying slowing down as you switch into protective mode. He's seen you do it many times, but it never fails to bring warmth to his face, "Look, if I can't beat myself up, neither can you. Let's just blame the fucking universe, yeah?"

He considers it. Sounds like a good way to vent his frustration without falling into a spiral of self-hatred, but it might also get you to stop crying which is all he wants in the fucking world at this moment.

"Fine. Fuck the universe."

"Fuck the universe," you agree, bumping your shoulder lightly into his own, "Now would you start crying, please, so I'm not the only one embarrassing myself?"

Roy smiles despite himself at that, happy when he turns your way and sees you smiling too.

"I'm going to cry later, in the privacy of my fucking home," he says, wrapping an arm around you because it feels like both the right time and the right place, "Like a normal fucking person."

"Fuck you," you laugh, wiping your chin with the back of your hand. Roy spots a stray tear on your collarbone and reaches to smudge it away without thinking. You shuffle closer to him, his arm still around you, and put your own hand on his thigh.

Roy's brain short-circuits.

"I'll be leaving," he says, sudden even to himself, "Can't fucking stick around if I'm not playing."

"I know," you say softly, tucking your head into his shoulder. He can't let his own head rest against yours, because he knows he'd get too comfortable. Knows he'd never want to move again.

He takes a moment. He knows what he wants to say, he's just not sure he can.

"I don't want to fucking leave," he gets out through gritted teeth, but he's left out the most important word.

You. I don't want to fucking leave you.

It's stuck in his throat as he peers down at the top of your head, still resting on him. He kicks himself inwardly when he can't get the extra word out before you start talking, index finger tracing gentle patterns just above his knee.

"Yeah, I don't want you to fucking leave either," you say, as if you're admitting something terrible. He can tell you're watching the movement of your own hand to avoid looking up at him. "You won't stick around, join the coaching staff?"

"Fuck no," he barks out, feeling you chuckle against his side, "I couldn't do that shit."

"You could," you insist, "But it's okay if you don't want to. I just thought maybe I could look after you if you did."

He tries to move away from you to look at your face with a smirk, but you stay rooted to the spot and stop drawing your patterns on his leg abruptly.

"Your knee! I meant look after your fucking knee, Jesus."

It's now or never. He's so sick of never saying what he fucking means around you, but if he can't do that, he'll settle for the next best thing.

"Do you make house calls?"

It's the worst line he's ever used. But you're here rather than watching the end of the match, and your head is on his shoulder, hand on his thigh. He wonders if maybe, his luck might be balancing out, if maybe you'll understand what he's trying and failing to say.

"Huh?"

He stifles his own chuckle at the confusion in your voice. Willing himself to just fucking do something, he takes your hand from his knee and holds it in his own, clasping on tightly. There's a spike in his heart rate when you grip his hand right back.

"I'm asking-" he begins, hoping you can't hear his heartbeat, "-if you do house calls. To look after my knee, and shit. Once I'm gone."

"Oh."

You've definitely understood his meaning. In past months, he'd be tearing his hair out over trying to read between the lines, probably taking it out on Ted or Jamie or Isaac or whoever was nearby to be shouted at. Now he's positive, as you cling to his hand, that you know what he's trying to say.

Even if he's not sure of your reaction yet, there's already a weight lifted from his chest. And whatever that fucking gel you put on his knee was, he hasn't felt the pain in it since.

"As a club physio, no," you answer slowly, but he knows that's not the end of your sentence, "No house calls. Also no going into the dressing room during a match, no putting numbing cream on an injury just cause you don't want a player in pain, no holding a player's hand."

He's grinning now. Maybe because you can't actually see him doing it, but then he locks in on something you've said amongst the floating feeling that's taken over his body.

"Wait, you put fucking numbing cream on me?"

"You're welcome," you retort, "My point is that I've clearly broken a few rules for you already. So, house calls it is. For the sake of your knee."

He squeezes your hand.

"For the sake of my fucking knee, yeah."

And because it doesn't feel so scary anymore, he puts his head on top of your own and reminds himself that he was going to cry later, not now. For now, with your hand lodged tightly in his own, he decides to think about that future he didn't think he'd ever get, instead.

---

please see this post if you would like to request your own roy/jamie drabble!! closing soon <3

#roy kent x reader #roy kent #ted lasso #ted lasso x reader #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent imagine #roy kent fluff #roy kent oneshot #busy week drabbles!#like real people queue

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celiciaa · 5 months

Text

GILBERT VON OBSIDIAN EVENT STORY....

MAKE ME FEEL ALIVE, HIS SIDE STORY.

translations are not 100% accurate. expect mistakes.

trigger warning: suggestive, violence.

MINORS DNI.

Birthdays always come every year as long as I’m alive, even if I don't want to.

━━FLASHBACK━━

Albert: Happy birthday, Gil.

Mother: I'm glad you were able to age properly this year. I feel like I'm about to cry.

━━

Aristocrat: Happy birthday, Lord Gilbert.

Aristocrat: I hope you liked the surprise party I prepared for you.

(Stop….)

━━

Albert: Look, I got that academic book you wanted.

Albert: It's really amazing how you can understand such a difficult book, you're a genius. // You're really amazing to understand such a difficult book, you're a genius.

Mother: I made some new clothes.

Mother: I'm sure you'll grow out of it soon, so please let me make you a new outfit for your birthday.

━━

Aristocrat: Of course, we also have prepared many presents.

Aristocrat: All of us present here would like to offer our heartfelt blessings to His Highness——

(…Stop.)

━━

Albert: I'm sure Gil will grow up to be a good man every time he celebrates his birthday.

Mother: Hehe, look forward to it. But the most important thing is for you to live.

Mother: Happy birthday to you many, many times, Gil.

━━

Aristocrat for embezzlement: Congratulations.

Aristocrat for theft: Congratulations, Lord Gilbert.

Aristocrat for murder: My sincerest congratulations, Lord Gilbert.

Gilbert: ——….Hehe, thank you. But I don't need that.

Aristocrat for the crime of human trafficking: Lord Gilbert?

Gilbert: I'm feeling sleepy today, so I'm heading back. Good night.

Gilbert: I'll see you on the execution site.

(Stop it…stop it, stop it.)

(I don't want those memories to be tarnished by the farce of those filthy aristocrats.)

━━

Aristocrat for the crime of human trafficking: Lord Gilbert, please forgive me!

Gilbert: Hm, what? You don't want to die in an instant?

Gilbert: If that's the case, I'll execute you myself. I'm not used to handling a sword yet….

Gilbert: I'm sure it will take a while, unlike the Emperor, but that's okay, right?

Aristocrat for the crime of human trafficking: Aa….aaAAAAAAHHH—!

Gilbert: Ahaha! What a shame. Everyone, take a good look.

Gilbert: This isn't someone else's business…yes?

(I don't need birthdays anymore.)

(It would be better for me to just disappear than be corrupted by those filthy aristocrats.)

(No one is allowed to celebrate my birthday.)

(Anyone who congratulates me will be killed without exception.)

(Roderich, Walter, all of them, without exception——)

━━FLASHBACK ENDS━━

Gilbert: Hey, hey, little rabbit. Do you know my birthday is almost close?

——One day when the snow started to fall, those words fell out of my mouth instinctively.

Emma: Huh, when is it!?

Gilbert: One week later.

Emma: Why didn't you tell me earlier!

Emma: What should I do…is it possible to prepare the ingredients for the cake now….

Gilbert: ….

(Why did I say that?)

(I thought I decided long ago not to let anyone celebrate my birthday.)

Emma: Is something wrong?

Gilbert: No, it's nothing.

(But I'm sure you….)

(….You wouldn't lie to me, would you?)

━━

Roderich: ——That was surprising.

On the way back to my room after my regular checkup, I found myself alone with Roderich and mumbled something.

Gilbert: Because I told her about my birthday?

Roderich: Yes. Me and the doctor are planning to celebrate….

Gilbert: No, I won't allow it.

Roderich: As expected.

Gilbert: Hehe, I thought I'd give the little rabbit a special chance.

Gilbert: I don't know how many more birthdays I will have. I thought it would be better not to have any regrets.

Roderich: It can be as many times as you want. Whether it's 10 years or 100 years.

Gilbert: I'm not immortal.

Gilbert: But, well, maybe I'm getting carried away this year. // But, maybe I'm just too excited this year.

Gilbert: ….I used to look forward to my birthday a lot, you know?

Gilbert: I wonder what kind of presents she will give me, and what kind of delicious food she’s preparing for me…..

Gilbert: When I'm with the little rabbit, I sometimes remember those feelings I had when I was a human.

Roderich: ….

Roderich, who was right beside me, had stopped walking.

When I approached him, his face which was hidden behind the hood remained downcast, and did not rise to look me in the eye.

Gilbert: Eh, I was just kidding. What are you crying about? That’s disgusting…..

Roderich: ….Even the doctor had teary eyes after your checkup.

Roderich: He said it’s been a while since he heard about your birthday at the obsidian castle….

Roderich: Lord Gilbert celebrated other people's birthdays, but was not happy to celebrate his own.

Gilbert: Ahaha, how honest, aren’t you? I don't know if the little rabbit will celebrate, after all the threats I’ve made.

Roderich: I wouldn't call that a threat.

Gilbert: Then what?

Roderich: It's just your way of saying that you’re looking forward to your birthday.

━━

(——I wonder if I'm that easy to understand.)

Until the day of my birthday, the little rabbit must have been in deep distress.

Her hands were shaking with nervousness as she baked the cake, and her expression was worrying.

Still, she ended up making a birthday cake for me.

It seems that even after hearing that someone was sent to the execution stand, her intentions did not change.

(I think she got the message that I was expecting her.)

Emma: ….This is just my speculation….

Emma: Lord Gilbert—— Gil, I don't think you want to celebrate your birthday.

Emma: You hate lies.

Emma: Because it was supposed to be a special and important day, you couldn't allow yourself to be defiled by corruption and deception.

Emma: …..That's what I thought.

Gilbert: Hehe…as expected of the little rabbit, who loves me so much.

(You’re spot on.)

(Honestly, I didn't think you could see through it that much, but I guess you can see into my heart.)

(…You are completely different from the rotten aristocrats.)

Gilbert: Are you really going to congratulate me?

Emma: Of course.

Gilbert: I've killed many people so far, and I might kill many more in the future.

Gilbert: I’ve sent someone to the execution stand after I celebrated my birthday before, and I'll do it again if anyone like that shows up in the future, you know?

Emma: …..

(…How cruel of me.)

I am by no means doubting Emma’s beautiful heart.

But after so many years of dealing with corruption and deceit, I am paranoid as a matter of habit.

It was also for self-defense, not wanting to be disappointed because I wanted a heartfelt celebration.

Emma: ….I see.

After a long silence, the little rabbit nodded.

Emma: Even if you have made the whole world your enemy, I will congratulate you.

Emma: I'm already a bad woman, so it's too late for that.

Emma: Please don't underestimate my love for you.

(….)

(…You're crying.)

Her eyes are slightly moist with determination, but she looks forward with dignity.

It was more beautiful than the memory of a birthday I once had, and it burned strongly in my mind.

Gilbert: ….Hehe, sorry. I was bullying you too much.

(I just want to be celebrated by you, but I don't feel safe unless I do this.)

(I'm so sorry, little rabbit.)

I stand in front of Emma and use my fingers to scoop up her tears that are about to fall.

(But I finally found someone to celebrate with.)

(I thought that once I fell into the beast, I would never be a part of it again….)

(…I feel like it's a kind of blessing that a great villain who killed a lot of people shouldn't enjoy…)

As I secretly close my aching heart, without warning, Emma puts her hand on my cheek and kisses me lightly.

Gilbert: What?

Emma: …I can't give you a cake right now, so here's an alternative gift for you.

(Really….I wonder how bare my heart is in front of you.)

Gilbert: That's a poor gift.

Emma: How about this?

The little rabbit puts her arms around my neck and takes a deeper kiss than before.

(…For a moment, I wondered if it was okay to be so happy despite being a big villain——)

(Well, if I’m the big villain, it's just enough for me to snatch away all the happiness that little rabbit gives me.)

(I never thought about it before…)

(Wouldn't it be nice to receive a little reward for living in a dirty world?)

My wavering heart hardened and I bit the little rabbit's lip.

When she froze in surprise, the first thing I did was pry her lips open with my fingers.

Making sure her tongue was out and I bit it to the extent that it didn't hurt, I placed my hand on Emma’s leg as she leaned on the table.

(Come to think of it, the little rabbit is wearing the outfit I made for her today.)

(…I'm sorry that you've been dyed by me.)

When I lifted the hem of her black dress and forced my fingers deep inside her, Emma’s face contorted in pain.

Emma: Gil…it hurts….

Gilbert: Yeah, on purpose.

Emma: Why….

Gilbert: Because you don't like pain, do you, little rabbit?

When I plunged her deep into the pit of her stomach with my fingers, her expression immediately turned lewd.

Gilbert: See, you looked like you were feeling good.

Gilbert: By the way, we’re in the kitchen. Are you going to stop me?

(I'm sure the little rabbit would resist more.)

The wet squelching sounds and her moans became more visible the moment I added two more fingers.

Emma: ….Just…for today….

Emma: No matter what Gil wants…if he wants to do it here, I’d take it all….

Gilbert: Because it's my birthday?

When I asked, the little rabbit brought my head close to her soft chest.

Emma: I do not…lie.

Emma: So...you can try it until you feel safe, Gil.

Emma: My celebration is from the bottom of my heart…my sincerest congratulations…

Emma: I will keep telling Gil, no matter how much it hurts, until he believes in me.

Gilbert: …..

Gilbert: Oh, no. I guess I've been found out.

(I feel like I can't hide anything in front of you.)

Emma: Gil is probably a lot easier to understand than I think.

Gilbert: I think those words can only be said because you are facing me head-on.

Gilbert: …It's really a pity that a troublesome man likes you so much.

(As long as you understand my intentions and wish me a happy birthday, I'll be fine.)

(I don't think I'll be betrayed by you.)

I stroked the little rabbit’s weak spot as a reward and to her response, she was trembling in pleasure.

(Birthdays are coming back again this year.)

(…Yeah. Maybe it’s not so bad.)

━━

Despite being bullied by the beast, the little rabbit somehow manages to finish the birthday cake and feed it to me.

The first birthday in a long time was filled with the warmth and tender feelings that had once been so natural to me.

Gilbert: Hehe…your heart is still beating, isn't it?

Emma: I can…hear your heartbeat too, Gil.

At the end of the celebration, we lie down on the bed, skin to skin, as if it were natural.

As I listened to the sound of the heartbeats coming from our chests,

The little rabbit placed her hand on my back and I felt a slight pain.

(Ah—…. I guess it's a scratch from when I held you earlier.)

The little rabbit’s face turned apologetic the moment she noticed my expression.

Emma: …I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.

Gilbert: I don’t mind. I like being hurt by you too.

Gilbert: You could have left bite marks as well as scratches.

When I run my fingers down her delicate arm, there are clear bite marks.

(Hehe, it must have hurt a lot. The little rabbit cried many times)

(You're crazy because you still love me.)

(….Well, I don't think any sane person could ever love me.)

Emma: It's hard to tell how much is too much or too little love Gil.

Gilbert: Then, let's learn it sometime soon. How about by next year's birthday?

Emma: I hope…you will let me celebrate again next year.

Gilbert: Who knows? It's up to you whether it’ll be your last or your first.

Gilbert: If you love me a lot, I might change my mind...okay?

Emma: ….

Gilbert: It’s just...my celebration this year wasn't unpleasant.

Gilbert: ….Thank you.

Emma: …..

(It's like I'm getting back one of my forgotten emotions.)

The more time I spend with the little rabbit, the more things I once let go of may gradually come back to me.

It is a frightening yet happy thing.

Emma: So…next time, how about we celebrate with Mr. Roderich and Mr. Walter?

Emma: I'm sure both of them really want to congratulate you, Lord Gilbert.

Gilbert: That’s not allowed.

(I'm sure those two want to celebrate my birthday….)

Gilbert: I don't need other people's congratulations. As long as I have yours, that's all that matters.

Gilbert: Because you're the only one I love.

When I said this clearly, the little rabbit looked embarrassed and shy.

(…You're so cute.)

Emma: Gil…I forgot to mention the most important thing.

Gilbert: Hm?

Emma: Happy birthday.

Emma: I'll give you lots of love…so please let me celebrate with you again next year.

(…So many reasons I can’t die like this.)

(I'm at a loss. But since it's a request from my beloved rabbit, I can't resist.)

Gilbert: Hehe, I understand. I'll let you celebrate as long as you are.

Gilbert: Keep loving the beast with your pure heart, just as you are…got it?

(So please. Don't you just disappear like those two.)

(As long as I'm alive, you have to make sure you celebrate my birthday every year…okay?)

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikemen prince spoilers #ikepri jp #ikepri translations #ikemen series #cybird #gilbert von obsidian #ikepri gilbert

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consuming-karma · 11 months

Text

FEEDING TIME.

buwan’s notes: oh my god I’m actually so scared to write about this AHAHA, like this is so scary to write bc some people might think it’s weird 😭 happy late Mother’s Day??….

episode summary: when Paul catches a glance at you breast-feeding, he can’t help but feel curious.

taglist: @britany1997

content warnings: NSFW. minors pls don’t interact. Lactation kink, sub-leaning switch!paul. (Would this count at PWP?). AFAB-bodied reader.

[paul x fem!reader.]

“Paul, what are you staring at?” You locked eyes with your blonde boyfriend as he shot you a strange look. his gaze was stuck on you, or rather.. your breasts.

you continued to feed your baby bat, sore and not up for any bullshit Paul might be planning in his head. Paul continued to ignore your question, still staring. If he stared any harder he’d have burned holes in your chest.

Paul’s gaze gently went over your chest’s features, a silk blanket covered the other side of your chests. Your baby was smooshed up to your boobs for easier access to your milk.

His eyes glanced up at your tired expression, obviously a little uncomfortable at the feeling of a baby on your nipples, and maybe the soreness of carrying so much milk and not knowing where to put it.

your baby had your nipple in her mouth as she had her fill of nutrients. Paul watched with intensity, his eyebrows furrowing.

You looked at Paul a bit more before shaking your head, as if to say that you’d rather not deal with his shenanigans.

It was obvious the blonde was curious and confused, was it that good? He just could feel his finger twitch anxiously as your baby finished feeding, her pouty lips falling off from your breasts as she dozed off in your arms.

You coo softly, pulling your nightgown over your breasts before slowly standing up from the bed to put your baby bat in her nursery.

Unfortunately, that meant that Paul would be left to his own thoughts.

Your feet ached as you walked to and from the nursery, holding your sore back as slouching from your breasts. You let out an uncomfortable sigh as you tried relieve some soreness by gently massaging the sensitive areas of your under-boob.

Paul was still at his original spot, it seemed like he hadn’t moved an inch from where you last saw him.

you finally had your break for the night, happily sitting back on you and your boys’ bed. Though, they rarely slept in it, more so using it for more…explicit deeds.

“Gonna tell me what’s on your mind, pretty boy? I’m not a vampire yet, you know.” You looked off at Paul, carefully bringing your swollen feet up on the bed as you awaited his reply.

“nothin’..” Paul shrugged, finally breaking his gaze from your seat to look down at his fingers, chipping at his black nail polish.

You sighed, leaning your head back against the headboard. Your gaze looked around, the silence of the room making you feel uncomfortable.

“Alright, tell me, you’ve got me curious.”

Paul bit the inside of his cheek before walking up to you, sitting by the edge of the bed. “Don’t think I’m weird, babe, but I really want to try your milk..” A silence leaves the both of you, the cave felt cold and you had stopped massaging your sore chest.

“You want to what?” You shot him a confused look, wanting him to clarify what he had asked. “You know, your tits..you always say they’re sore from carrying..” Paul sat closer to you, obviously trying to convince you to let him drink from your breasts.

“Paulie, why do you wanna do that?” You were surprised at his suggestion, feeling his weight move next to you, Paul gently wrapped his arms around your stomach.

“You’re always saying how you’re sore and it always feels heavy, wanna see if I can help you..” Paul looked up at you with his pretty blues, looking like a little puppy asking for a treat.

You couldn’t help but feel your heart melt at Paul’s pretty pout, looking up at you with such gusto. “I guess..I can let you, since you’re asking so nicely.” Paul seemed to perk up at your words, looking at you with a bright smile.

You let Paul position you the way he wanted, his hands lifted you onto his lap. You squirmed in his arms, trying to get comfortable.

You felt Paul’s hands place themselves on your thighs before they moved up, slipping under your nightgown.

“Calm down, Paulie. I’m not going anywhere.” You whispered, caressing his cheek with your palm, your lips meeting his for a quick second before pulling away, your heart palpitating in your chest.

Paul grinned excitedly, as you wrapped your arms around his neck, his hands happily explored under your nightgown. The pads of his fingers gently tapped against your waist, then again in the middle of your chest.

Paul felt himself get shivers up his spine from hearing your fastened heartbeat, he knew he was touching the right places to rile your pretty self up.

You let out a few soft sighs as Paul’s cold hands felt amazing to your sore breasts. You felt his hand finally cup your breasts and swipe his thumb over your nipple, making you flutter your eyes closed at the relaxing feeling.

Paul closed his eyes for a minute just to feel in your presence, he was amazed at how gorgeous you were.

His eyes looked up at you with adoration for his girlfriend, his smile widening by the second. “Can’t wait to have you in my mouth, mamas..” he quietly mumbled, his hands leaving your hot body for a little while.

You seemed annoyed at the lack of contact, watching Paul impatiently as he pulled off his leather jacket, the various jewelry and chains clinking against each other.

“Hurry up..” you mumbled, getting antsier by the minute. Paul chuckled, looking at you with a smug grin. “And here I thought I was the needy one..” He mused, his fingertips pinching the silk nightgown you wore.

You rolled your eyes before starting to move off his lap, done with Paul’s teasing. “Babe, no! M’sorry! I’ll be good.” Paul instantly turned to begging you, feeling your weight slowly leave his lap.

“Won’t joke around n‘more..” his lidded eyes looked up at you with a pout, upset at you for even moving a few inches off his lap.

You smirked, returning Paul’s smug grin. “That’s what I thought, now pull this off me, pretty boy.” You cooed, raising your arms up for easier removal of your nightgown.

You stopped moving as Paul hastily pulled at the garment, going over your head and onto the floor, your breasts were in full display and Paul couldn’t help but feel his loins stir.

“Fuck babe, I forgot you had such gorgeous girls.” He snickered, his hands instantly cupping both of your tits into his rough hands, his hands felt cold and soothed your soreness immensely, making you moan softly in content.

Paul could feel his mouth salivating at just seeing your breasts in his hands. If he wasn’t a vampire, he’d cower in his bashfulness at the fact that he was basically drooling over your tits.

His hands gently massaged them, almost juggling the two mounds in a pattern. A hum left your lips, letting Paul take his time with your tits.

Paul was enamoured with the two weights in his hands as you felt so warm to him, a perfect match. Hot to Cold, body to body. He continued to massage your breasts, watching your eyelashes flutter and your eyes close in pure relief.

His face happily digged itself into your neck, placing soft kisses from your collarbone and made a path up behind your ear. His lips retreated back to the nook in your neck, licking a long stripe before his fangs gently grazed the skin, making a scratch at most.

Paul felt his eyes close in pure ecstasy in smelling his girlfriend’s sweet blood, his body seemed to twitch excited, so excited that he accidentally squeezed your breasts.

He wasn’t guilty about it though, because suddenly, a liquid ran down his hands, sticky and white. “Mamas…you’re dripping..” He joked, one of his hands leaving your breast as you looked off in embarrassment, Paul’s long tongue made an appearance as he lifted his wet arm up to his lips.

You hit him in the thigh, scoffing at his joke before you realized what he was doing.

His long tongue followed the droplets of milk that made paths on his arm, the sweet nectar spreading across his taste buds as he sucked every last bit of it from his arms.

Your lips opened to say something but nothing seemed to come out, feeling your throat dry at Paul’s dirty display.

You watched with a heated face as Paul hungrily licked every evidence of the liquid on his arms before he growled, looking at you with a hungry look.

Paul pulled your face to meet his, his thick hands gripping the back of your head with needy strength. his teeth clashed with yours as you tasted the bittersweet flavour from his tongue.

you decided to give him some relief, slowly grinding down on his lap, feeling his clothed cock harden under you. His groaned into the kiss, a growl resounding once again.

“Oh baby, now I need to get a taste..” He grunted, his lips latching onto your nipples in record speed as you gasped at the sudden contact.

You jumped from his cold lips making contact with your breasts, your grip tightening around his neck as Paul felt his eyes flutter at feeling you in his mouth.

His tongue flicked over your buds, as a reaction your legs unwillingly squeezed his lap squealing at the cold temperature Paul’s mouth emitted. Your arms made quick work to wrap themselves around his neck, his arms doing the same to your waist.

You couldn’t hold your moans as you felt your milk being sucked out by Paul, unwilling to stop, his lips continued to latch onto your nipples, making the area around it red as his grip seemed to tighten around your waist.

His free hand continued to massage the breast he didn’t suck on, your breastmilk dripping down his arms. You should’ve known this would happen, Paul loved to play with his food, and he was a messy eater.

Paul happily enjoyed the fact that you filled his mouth so, gulping with unstoppable thirst. His hips started to buck, gaining pleasure from drinking you dry in other ways, he’d never thought he’d get to drain you besides your blood.

“Baby, you’ve got me going crazy,” Paul detached from your tits to look up at you once again, his eyes glimmering with want and lust after you, his gorgeous girl.

“I wanna drink from your pretty tits every time I get thirsty, over and over again..” Paul mumbled against your skin, his lips grazing over your chest, obviously enamoured by the way you taste, god he’d never tasted something so delicious before. It’s as if his young vampire years had reawakened, the need to drink strong.

“Paul…careful..” you warned your blonde boyfriend, feeling his fangs against your chest, almost scratching and making a mark on you. “Sorry.. you just taste so good..” he whined, digging his head into the middle of your chest, enjoying the warmth your tits generated.

Paul kissed up your cleavage, he couldn’t help himself with sucking hickeys in the middle of your tits, hoping that one of the other boys gets a go at you so that they could see his artwork on your body.

His thick hands moved to your thighs, his cold palms being heated by your thick thighs. Paul continued to make his marks, his sharp fangs giving you a sense of rush as it felt cold to the touch.

His fingers tapped against your thick mounds before the moved towards your inner thigh, his thumb swiping rhythmic patterns to calm you down as he inches towards your cunt.

Being a vampire has its pros, one of them being a good sense of smell. Paul could smell your sweet pussy from under your shorts and your underwear, he could feel himself almost cum from just smelling you.

“Paul—..” you called out for him, knowing he could smell your arousal from this proximity, you held your breath, waiting for him to make a move.

He growled at your call, only opting to push his finger into your shorts, making a small ripple. His long fingernails managed to make a hole big enough for his fingers to come through, ripping it slowly.

His display of pure carnal thirst made you even wetter than before, your hormones were everywhere even though it had been a few months since your baby was born. A desperate, breathy whine left your lips, almost begging Paul to do something.

Your blonde boyfriend moved too slow for your liking, you were in your ripped shorts, only your panties shielded your pussy from the monster who held you in his grasps.

One of his hands wrapped around your waist as he pulled you close to his face once again, his lips stationed instantly on one of your buds, returning to drinking the sweet liquid that left your breasts.

His fingers moved with precision, hooking them into your underwear with little to no trouble. Paul didn’t bother to give your clothes any mercy as he only ripped your panties off in a few seconds.

A jump leaves your body, both at Paul’s tongue and the sudden bareness you felt down under. Your eyes were lidded, unable to get a grip on reality as the buzzing feeling in your stomach grew at the sight of Paul enjoying his meal.

You could see the glint of yellow in Paul’s irises, his vampiric side starting to show. The blonde slowly caressed your inner thighs, your warmth enjoyed by Paul.

He continued to drink from your breasts, his mouth filled up fast with your milk and he had to be gulping every few seconds to keep up with how fast the sweet liquid came out.

Paul looked up at you, his eyes locking onto yours. You were met with the pretty sight of Paul’s messy display. Milk dribbled from the sides of his lips, making streams down his jaw. His free arm had been massaging your other breast, your milk tainting it as well.

It was completely nasty, and Paul knew it, his dick was rock-hard and needed to be released from his jeans, he felt like he could just cum from drinking you. His eyes seemed to roll back, trying to remember the way you taste.

he inadvertently groaned, the buzzing sending waves of pleasure up to your head as you whined, your hands no longer stationed around his arms but propped up to tangle themselves into the blonde’s locks.

Paul’s other arm finally stopped rubbing circles into your inner thigh, inching closer to your cunt where it glistened with lust and need. He pulled back from your nipple, licking his lip for any residue on his lips of you.

“Baby, I can just cum from seeing you like this.” He mumbled, his thumb grazing your clit as your hands gripped his hair tighter in reaction. “I can’t be the only one having fun, right mama?” He spoke into your skin, his lips placing kisses onto your shoulder.

Your eyes closed as Paul’s thumb rubbed your clit in a circular motion, a gasp leaving your lips as unwillingly pushed against Paul’s hand.

He grinned at your reaction, stopping his action and using his thumb to spread your cunt open, it glistened in the natural light of one of the many barrel fires in the cave.

“Fuck. You’d let me get a taste at this pretty pussy, too, won’t you?” He asked, although he already knew the answer. You nodded, desperate for him to do something. “Yes, yes Paul, just, please..” you uttered a breathy complaint, wanting your boyfriend to just do something.

“It’s okay pretty, I’ve got you.” He cooed, he used two of his digits to dig into your cunt, instantly surrounding his cold fingers with warmth. You squeezed your eyes shut at the feeling of coldness in you.

Paul was amused at your expression, slowly pushing his fingers into you, trying to remember every feeling of you. His grin widened, allowing himself to return to your neglected nipple, eager to finish his meal.

a sound of squelching was heard in the alcove, breathy whines and groans accompanied it, Paul was sure the other boys would’ve heard it.

Paul was on a high, the way you tightened around his fingers and how your milk continued to spill no matter how long he sucked was too much; he could feel himself twitch in his jeans.

He was sure you could feel him too. More focused on your release, the pads of his fingers searched for a particular spot inside of you, almost scissoring his digits, making you moan. You digged your fingers into his hair, your other hand sliding down to give yourself a grip onto Paul’s shoulder.

Your fingernails made crescent marks on his shoulder, too immersed in the pleasure your blonde boyfriend gave you.

He hummed at you, the sound adding to the pleasure of your pussy being fingered well. His fingers fastened their pace; trying to get you to your release. Your moans heightened in pitch, feeling the coil in your stomach start to tighten.

Your pussy seemed get more and more sensitive the more Paul dug into it. His palms connected with your clit, adding more to the bliss that ran through your whole body.

Paul could feel how wet you had gotten in his hand, it dripped down to his pants, making a patch of your essence right under you, he didn’t care though, he cared that he could make you scream out by the end of it all.

“Are you close, honey? Just say the word, I can give it to you.” He ushered quietly; Paul looked to you for a go. You nodded desperately, “yes, yes paulie!” You whined, starting to grind your hips into his fingers to get you closer so you could cum.

A squeal left your lips; Paul had fastened his pace. The squelching your cunt made became intense, it was loud enough the rest of the guys should’ve heard what you two have been doing by now.

The coil in your stomach tightened second by second, the overwhelming feeling of Paul’s tongue flicking against your nipple, your moans pitched up, along with your high. Your pussy tightened against his fingers.

Paul had long ago switched to your other breast, drinking the remaining milk left in your boobs, his free hand no longer massaged by held you by the waist.

Everything seemed too much, the overstimulating sensation of Paul being everywhere in your body, the way Paul’s clothed cock poked through his pants and you could feel it on your ass, you were desperate to just ride him.

Your eyes rolled back at the feeling of Paul’s lips and fingers stimulating you to a high you could’ve never reached yourself.

You seemed to grip Paul’s head tightly to your breasts as the coil in your stomach finally snapped, your high reaching so high you could see white spots in your vision. You squeezed your eyes tight, your thighs shaking; you gushed around Paul’s fingers as a long moan left your lips.

Paul stopped latching onto your nipple, pulling away with only a string of saliva connecting the two of you. Paul looked at you once again, a huge small on his face, his pearly fangs clearly showing.

“Enjoyed it mama? Don’t feel sore n’more?” Paul asked, placing his chin in between your cleavage, his pretty blues looking at your features, trying to decipher what you thought.

You nodded at his question, your hands gently petting Paul’s lion mane as both of you huffed at the tiring thrill you both just had.

“That was…amazing, honey.” You mumbled tiredly, a small dopey smile on your face. Paul nodded eagerly, as if to say ‘that’s good.’ He returned back to your nipple, ready to latch on once again.

Your dopey smile turned to confusion, stopping your blonde boyfriend seconds before he could bring your nipple into his mouth once again, “Paulie, haven’t you drank enough?” You asked curiously, placing your hand on his cheek to tilt his head up.

He only excitedly grinned, “I want more, mamas, I always want more.” He replied, before continuing his mission of sucking your breasts dry.

“Paulie, wait! You need to save some for the baby—“ you giggled, trying to pull the blonde away before he grabbed both of your arms with his hands, you gasped at his sudden change in demeanour, more demanding and serious.

“Mama, I know you can make more.” He warned, you and Paul knew better than to test a vampire’s want and thirst. His eyes lidded, but you could tell that his eyes swirled with yellow, you knew it wasn’t going to take any longer until he let his vampire take over.

“You’ll make more milk, won’t you? For me and our baby?”

#✦ buwan writes.#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #the lost boys x reader #poly lost boys x reader #✦ paul’s karma.#tlb #the lost boys paul #paul the lost boys #tlb paul x reader #tlb paul #paul tlb #poly lost boys x fem reader #poly lost boys #the lost boys imagines #the lost boys x you

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