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#you’ve soured my mood
artist-issues · 3 months
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I’m so enjoying the whole “Harry Potter is good but whenever the Marauders pop in I feel like I could be reading an even better story” vibe, that I go into the tags to search and see Marauders fan stuff, and what are you guys doing?
…I mean I know I’m like 28 years late to the party, but what? Was Harry Potter like…the first fandom that ever just went insane and completely ignored what the characters in the canon material were actually like, so that they could make self-satisfying headcanons and slap the names “Lupin, James, Sirius,” on top?
Is this where the “yeah I really love this carefully-created, artfully-portrayed teenage boy character, so I’m naturally going to prove that love by oh completely re-writing his personality and interpersonal relationships in my own headcanon.” came from? From the Marauders and Harry Potter?
I mean jeez, where are you getting some of this stuff? I’m no expert. I know I just started reading these. But Rowling’s characterizations seem pretty straightforward, so when I look at the most prominent fan-accepted headcanons, it’s hard not to be like…Did you read these? Are we reading about the same characters, because this character in this book does not match with your webcomic. Is this the same character? Do you even like them?
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bruisedboys · 5 months
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jealous finnick?
jealous finnick will be the death of me!!!!!!
finnick odair x fem!reader
Breakfast in District 13 is an unusual affair. Nothing like you’re used to, being from District 4. It’s the same every morning — boring grey oatmeal with either honey or berries, depending on the day. It’s only as you take your seat next to Finnick that you realise you’ve forgotten the very crucial toppings.
“Oh no, I forgot to get berries,” you bemoan. They’re definitely all gone by now, seeing as they’re in popular demand — the oatmeal served in 13 tastes like cardboard without them.
“Here, have mine,” Gale says from across the table. You open your mouth to protest but he’s already spooning a big heap of berries into your bowl. They bleed red and purple into your otherwise plain oatmeal. “I don’t like ‘em, anyway. Too sour.”
“Oh.” You smile at him, flattered. Gale’s been nothing but kind to you since you arrived in District 13. You haven’t put it down to anything other than friendliness. Though it’s possible you’re too enamoured with the blonde next to you that you’re completely oblivious to other men’s advances. “Thanks, Gale.”
Gales smiles back and shrugs. “No problem, Y/N.”
Next to you and unbeknownst to you, Finnick scowls. He hates that Gale’s so nice to you. Loathes it. He knows it’s because you’re a ray of sunshine who draws even the coldest of people in (believe him, he’s experienced it), but the fact that Gale gave you his berries before Finnick could even offer his makes his blood boil. 
Who does he think he is? Everyone knows you’re Finnick’s girl, he’s made it very clear. It’s the whole reason you’re here, after all — Finnick specifically requested you be picked up from home before the Quarter Quell ended, to prevent anything from happening to you.
Breakfast passes without further incident. If you notice Finnick’s sour mood, you don’t mention it. You’re leaving the canteen with everyone else when Finnick grabs your waist and pulls you to the side, into an empty hallway. He peers over your shoulder to make sure Gale’s good and gone, watching the back of his head with a glare that could kill, before turning his attention to you.
“Finnick,” you say, clearly confused at his sudden manhandling. “What’s the matter with you? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Finnick says shortly.
“You look mad.”
“I’m not.”
You squint at him. “You’re definitely mad. Why are you—?”
Finnick forgoes restraint and yanks you forward, pressing his mouth to yours before you can say anything else. His chest burns with molten hot jealousy, it climbs up his throat and pours into the kiss, hot and sticky. The heat ebbs though, when you kiss him back just as fervently, replaced by a fuzzy warmth only you can make him feel. It buzzes in his chest and down his arms, flares out his palm as he takes your face into one hot hand.
He pulls back just as suddenly as he’d drawn in. “You know Gale’s flirting with you, right?” He says abruptly, thumb pressed to your cheekbone.
You blink up at him, still dazed from his kissing. “What?” You ask, half laughing. “No, he’s not.”
“He is. He gave you his berries. I was going to give you mine.”
You raise both eyebrows. “He was just being nice to me.”
“Yeah, well, that’s my job.”
Finnick supposes he sounds quite pathetic. He doesn’t really care, not when your eyes go all gooey and you reach up on your tiptoes to push a curl from his forehead.
“Are you jealous?” You ask him softly, tucking his hair behind his ear. Your breath fans over his mouth and your hand lingers at his throat. “You sound jealous.”
Finnick rolls his eyes. “So what if I am? Just— have mine next time, okay?”
You smile at him, pretty as starlight. “Okay. But you don’t have to be jealous, you know? I only want you.”
Woah, Finnick thinks. “I know,” he says, too quick, his voice a notch too high.
You raise your eyebrows at him. “Do you though?” You ask, definitely teasing now. He supposes he got off lucky, you could’ve done much worse finding out he’s so sickeningly jealous over Gale, of all people.
Still, Finnick narrows his eyes at you. “Alright, that’s enough.”
Your answering giggle is smothered as Finnick swoops in to kiss you again.
-
thank you for reading! please consider reblogging if u enjoyed 🤍
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saetoru · 9 months
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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。TANGLED — GETO SUGURU.
contents. just suguru needing his hair brushed for him bc he’s def so me and gets mad over the knots lol—alternative title: princess suguru and his frog <3
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suguru huffs in front of your mirror—and it’s quite the frustrated huff, too—before he slams the hair brush down.
you raise a brow, “you okay over there?”
“no. ‘s knotted,” he mutters, referring to his hair. there’s a quiet grumbling of something unintelligible under his breath before he glares at himself in the mirror.
suguru loves his hair—anyone would know that just by looking at him. most guys use two-in-one shampoo (like satoru) but suguru? he practically hogs your shower space with all of the products he owns. his hair is well maintained and perfectly neat every time you see him. but sometimes, like now, it’s also a pain to brush once it’s knotted. and, well, he doesn’t handle it very well.
“you’ve been brushing for—” you pretend to check your bare wrist for the time, “—like ten minutes,” you giggle.
“very funny,” he grunts bitterly. and then, more petulantly this time, “i’m cutting it off for real this time.”
“you said that last time,” you remind him, eyes glinting with amusement.
“this time i mean it.”
“no you don’t, sugu.”
“i do,” he insists, glaring at you through the mirror, “it’s getting too long, and i don’t have the time to brush all these damn knots every two hours. so, it’s getting cut.”
“okay,” you nod casually—anyone can tell you don’t believe him.
his expression sours. suguru gets in very bad moods when his hair doesn’t cooperate, it’s evident in the way he flares his nostrils and scowls.
“you still don’t believe me? i’m being serious.”
“okay, baby,” you snort, finally deciding to take matters into your own hands as you rise from your bed and walk over. you stand behind him, reaching around him for the hair brush before gently pulling him back to stand closer. “i’ll get it for you, don’t worry. wouldn’t want your princess hair gone.”
“stop calling it that,” he groans, but the tension leaves his shoulders as soon as you gently brush through his strands, starting at the bottom and working your way up. it’s quiet for a bit—nothing but the soft sound of your humming as you work through the tangles in his long (perfect) hair.
“you could’ve just asked if you wanted me to brush it,” you tease after a few moments, “no need to throw a tantrum.”
“glad to see you’re enjoying this,” he rolls his eyes. and then, when you’ve finished and set the brush down, he turns to face you, wrapping his arms around your waist as his face finds the crook of your neck.
you hum, pecking the side of his head before threading your fingers into his dark locks, stroking through the soft strands and silently marveling at the length.
“you’re so pretty, suguru,” you murmur, “did’ya know that?”
“oh yeah?” he chuckles into your skin, lips curling into a loose smile. his arms tighten around you, pulling you impossibly closer.
“yeah,” you nod, “like a princess. my prettiest princess.”
“i thought i told you to quit with that,” he says exasperatedly—you can feel the heat from his cheeks, and you grin to yourself knowing he’s blushing as he hides his face deeper into your shoulder.
“it’s true,” you insist, “i’m no liar. i’m a truther.”
“debatable,” he mumbles. you smack his shoulder playfully, and he squeezes your hips in response. “aren’t you going to tie it for me too?” he finally asks, and you’re sure there’s a pout curled on those lips of his. you ache to kiss them—and you will, just not right now.
right now, you’ll stay like this a bit longer.
“this is real princess treatment,” you sigh dramatically, “yes your highness. i’ll tie it too.”
“thank you,” he says, thoroughly satisfied. and then, quieter, like it’s a secret only you’re supposed to know, “i love you.”
“i love you too,” you happily murmur, “but that might change if you cut your hair.”
“are you only dating me for my hair?”
“yes,” you snicker playfully, “it’s the main appeal. the princess appeal.”
“you know what,” suguru says thoughtfully, “i’ll be your princess.”
“really?” you gasp in excitement, making him nod into your neck as he presses a delicate kiss to your skin.
“sure,” he grins slyly, “and you can be the frog.”
the moment is officially ruined—and for a second, you think you might just have to cut his hair off in his sleep after that one.
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come join me in the most self indulgent drabble once again. also the title being tangled even tho the reference is the princess and the frog is a tad bit funny to me jdjsjd i did giggle i can’t lie
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luvrxbunny · 7 months
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fangs
Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader
Summary: You see Miguel’s fangs for the first time. 
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, fangs, very minimal self-doubt, cum in pants (lmk if I forgot anything)
WC: 1.9k
A/N: I used google translate for the spanish so if anything is incorrect im sorry 
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‘Your package was delivered’
Your face brightens at the notification as you hop out of bed and rush to the front door. When you open it you’re met with the broad, muscular back of your boyfriend, Miguel O’Hara.
“Miggy?” You say with a laugh. “What are you doing out here? Oh my god, are you my package?!” You’re hunched over, laughing at your own joke as Miguel stands from his seated position, casting his large shadow over you. 
“Hi, amor.” He places a kiss on your forehead and walks in. “How has your day been?” He asks as he strips off his suit top and walks to the bedroom but you don’t answer, still wondering about something. 
“Why were you just sitting out there?” You ask while closing the front door and taking your slippers off. Miguel hasn’t said anything, letting a long pause draw out before answering.
“I was calming down.” He comes back out in a t-shirt that’s tighter than it needs to be and some gray sweatpants. 
“The fight was pretty intense, a little demanding y’know? So I just wanted to- I wanted to calm down before coming inside… But how was your day?” You don’t let the subject change, still confused with his statement. 
There have been plenty of times when Miguel would burst in, still aggressive and amped up from the latest fight, adrenaline still coursing through him. The first time it happened you were a little scared of course, you’d never seen him like that, eyes clouded with violence, his claws out in the air and threatening, with a deep scowl on his face. But that was a long time ago.
You’ve mastered the art of turning him from Spider-Man to Miggy. You learned it quite some time ago, which just furthers your confusion from his response. He’s rummaging through the cabinets, muttering about how he’s starving and you realize he hasn’t met your gaze since you found him which is incredibly unlike him. 
“Miguel, is that the truth? I mean- You’ve come in all amped up before so…” You trail off as Miguel freezes in the kitchen before sighing and running a hand through his hair. He closes the cabinet gently and turns to you, eyes cast downward before meeting yours. He takes another breath and walks to you. “It’s the technical truth uh… The whole truth is that my fangs were out and… I just- I don’t want you to see them.” He finishes his sentence and walks past you, to the bathroom and closes the door. 
You stand at the entrance to the kitchen in a stupor as you process his words and go chasing after him. You’re pounding on the bathroom door, begging him to let you see them, to let you kiss him with them out, and every other thought that comes to your mind, hoping it lightens the situation. You stop pounding after a few minutes, arms growing tired and getting a little embarrassed at his silence. You make your way over to the couch as you wait for him. 
You think about what he said, that he doesn’t want you to see his fangs and you feel a little pang of hurt in your heart that ripples through your body. 
He doesn’t want me to see them? Why though… Does he think I won’t like them? Does he think my opinion of him will change or something? I love him though, doesn’t he understand that?? Maybe it’s something super intimate, maybe he just doesn’t feel enough for me, for him to expose himself like that. Maybe he doesn’t trust me enough to be that vulnerable, to give all of him to me… 
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Your thoughts turn your mood sour as Miguel finally emerges from the bathroom, teeth brushed and face newly washed. “I don’t want to show them to you.” The words strike your heart again as you nod your head at him, not even looking up at him as you fall into your negative thoughts. He watches you stare into the carpet, obviously deep in thought but you look sad. 
“You okay, hermosa?” He wipes his hands in the towel around his neck as he sits beside you on the couch. You don’t hear him, too inside your own head, leaving him ignored. He watches you for a bit before grabbing one of your thighs and turning your body to face him, knocking you out of your trance. You have a deep, heartbreaking expression on your face that you quickly mask with happiness when your eyes meet his. “I asked if you were okay, baby.” 
“Oh! Y-yeah! Yeah, I’m fine, sorry.” You giggle at him but it sounds hollow, making him guilty. He already knows why, he knows how your mind works, he knows how you think. He pulls you in, one leg is extended past him and the other is folded on the couch, touching his leg, your face a few inches from his. 
“Mi cariño, no tiene nada to do with you, okay? Nothing. I just-” He emphasizes ‘nothing’, willing you to believe him. He’s absently rubbing your calf as he tries to piece together what he wants to say. “They’re weapons. I feel like… I don't think I want you to see that… A part of me that’s a weapon. You look at me like… como si fuera tu todo, like I hung the stars… I love that and I don’t want it to change. Nunca quiero que eso cambie.” His eyes are looking at your calf, how his hand wraps around it instead of you. 
(“My love, it has nothing to do with you okay?” “...like I'm your everything…” “I never want that to change.” )
If he had been looking at you he would’ve seen the look of utter disbelief that rested on your face. You put your hand over his and pull yourself closer to him, placing a kiss on his forehead before speaking. “Miguel, I look at you that way because, despite the way you feel about yourself, I believe that you deserve every good thing the world has to offer. I want you to know that you don’t have to show them to me if you really don’t want to but be aware… I will love you for the rest of my life.. and there is nothing that can change that, my feelings for you literally cannot decrease.” 
He stays silent, avoiding your gaze still but you let him. You know that expressing himself is hard for him and hearing people speak positively to him is even harder. You giggle softly at his silence and place another kiss on his head. You’re about to get up from the couch when he pulls you back in, pressing his lips to yours with a bruising intensity that has a fire starting up in your stomach. Your lips part for him as he sighs into you, his hand grips your hair and he grunts as you feel something push against your mouth. He’s breathing faster, kissing you more passionately as you try to pull away. 
Eventually, you break from his grasp and try to look at him but he’s already turned from you. You want to protest but don’t want to push him. You bring one of your hands to rest at his nape, playing with some of the hairs there, trying to soothe him. You’re about to tell him that he doesn’t need to turn away, you can leave until he’s calmed down but he turns to you. His mouth is shut but his eyes are so fragile, like they’re pleading with you to be gentle. He holds your eye contact for a bit before opening his mouth in a smile-grimace expression. 
A gasp slips from your mouth and your hands come up to hold his face, pulling it to yours. You inspect his fangs as his warm breath floats over your face. You bring one hand from his face to tail over one of them, earning a flinch from Miguel but you run your other thumb across his cheek, attempting to soothe his worries. 
They’re much bigger than you expected, they look like they’d barely fit in his mouth. They’re smooth and glossy like marble, cleaner than you expected too. You wonder silently if he lets them come out, brushes them, and then retracts them as your other hand comes from his cheek to his mouth. They’re thick, they look like they could leave a sizeable puncture wound if he bit you. Your fingers squeeze around both fangs, feeling their width for yourself. Your fingers run along the length of his fangs and then go up to his gums. 
You’re completely captivated by his teeth, you haven’t even looked back up at him since he opened his mouth. You absently caress his fangs while inspecting his gums, trying to understand where they go when retracted. You give up on that when your thumb runs over the bottom of his fangs. 
He groans out, loud and ragged against your face. 
Your eyes flicker up to look at him and his eyes are rolled back into his head, eyebrows furrowed as he moans out a loose rendition of your name. You’re staring at him in awe as he mutters out a mix of unfinished words. You immediately look down into his lap and see a patch of dark gray spreading out. 
A moan rips from your throat as you press your hand against his hard, twitching, leaking cock and kiss him. His hips instantly twitch up into your hand, using the friction to prolong his orgasm. He’s moaning into your mouth, his hands are frantic as they push your head into his face, his fangs digging into your lips almost painfully. You slide your tongue into his mouth when he moans again, you explore it, feeling the fangs instantly and running your tongue over them. 
The action earns a gut-wrenching whine from Miguel as he starts to tremble. His hips are still bucking up into your palm, overstimulating himself as his cock spurts out mini loads. 
You pull away from him slowly, your hand gently massaging his cock as he comes down. He drops his head onto your shoulder as he pants, unsteady syllables of your name falling from his lips. 
He lifts his head from your shoulder once his cock stops jumping in your hold. There’s a rare pink hue over his face as he leans in to kiss you. You accept it with a smile, kissing him back before pulling away again. 
“So…” You start semi-awkwardly, a light laugh in your tone as he groans out, embarrassed. “Did that feel good? Are they sensitive?” A shuddering breath leaves him as he recalls how your fingers felt gliding over his fangs, how arousal punched into his gut the moment you touched them. 
“Yeah… It felt-” His sentence is cut off with a whisper of a whine as he thinks about it, breathing speeding up, chest heaving at the fresh memory. You’re surprised at this, you’ve never seen him so delirious so… fucked out. “Me sentí tan bien, bebé. N-no sabía que me sentía así. I loved it so much, you made me feel so fucking good, amor. Te amo tanto, cariño.” 
(“I felt so good, baby. I-I didn't know I felt like that”... “I love you so much, darling.”)
A smile graces your face at the one phrase you understand, ‘Te amo’. You pull him in for another kiss before whispering. “Good.” He groans and pulls you into his lap, whining when your weight presses against his sensitive cock. You smile into his lips and kiss him again, pulling away again to giggle at him. 
“ ‘S not funny.” He grumbles out as he leans back, laying down on the couch with you on top of him. You continue giggling into his neck and you can feel his cheeks fatten up with his smile. 
You guys stay there for the rest of the night, intermittently waking up to smother the other in kisses before falling back to sleep. 
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Thank you so much for reading!! Please please please give any feedback you may have! I want it all!
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jaylaxies · 28 days
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NOW OR NEVER
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PAIRING: spider-man!sunghoon x fem!reader
GENRE/CW: smut, unprotected sex, choking, fingering, slight bondage, usage of nicknames, breeding.
SYNOPSIS: going around the city with your massive poster which said, ‘Choke me, Spider-Man!’ was something you did for fun, not knowing that your dream might actually come true.
WC: 1.4k words
WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni
A/N: hihi, loves! this one was requested by my anonnie and i’ve also posted this as a mark fic before! i hope you guys will like it :3 all likes, comments, reblogs and feedbacks are highly appreciated! iloveyou all <33
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“Shh, baby. Don’t want your parents to hear now, do we?”
You truly couldn’t believe that it was happening—that Spider-Man was in your room with his slender fingers wrapped ever so perfect around your throat.
You’ve always wanted this from the day you first saw him, on the day he saved a lift full of people from falling down and crashing to the ground. You were one of those who unfortunately got stuck inside the lift too, which was the traumatic onset of your tiny crush on him.
No one knew who was behind that mask, yet his suit clad figure was a sight to see, his build lean and slightly muscular, not to mention he smelled brilliant (a little something you gathered when he saved you).
To add to it, his ever so attractive voice always grasped everyone’s attention, you thought he was funny too, which is exactly why you ended up making a poster full of glitter saying:
Choke me, Spider-Man!
It was a silly joke, albeit you’d definitely be lying if you say you didn’t get wet dreams about the superhero, because you did. Detailed ones at that.
Maybe carrying the poster with you at all times was a stretch but you did it anyway, granted that your city was full of crimes and spotting Spider-Man was an easy task, which is why you proudly held up the poster in the crowd whenever you saw him, after he fought with the villain that is.
The people around you laughed, but it wasn’t mocking, it was more of an amused laugh, and you could have sworn you noticed spidey look your way, before swinging away, much to your dismay.
This went on a few times. You were practically waving the poster frantically when it was the fourth time, yet he didn’t pay you attention of any sort, leaving you dejected as you dragged yourself back home from Uni, chuckling at your state.
Crush on a superhero?
Pathetic.
He’s loved by countless people all over the world, what makes you think he’d have time to give you even a sliver of his attention when he’s so busy saving the world?
Clicking your tongue, you threw the crumbled poster in the trash can of your bedroom, dimming the lights as you sat down on your bed, ready to change into your nightwear before opting to sleep to take your mind off things.
Just then, a loud sound of knocking on your window caught your attention, which was funny considering you lived up on a pretty high floor in your apartment building. You thought that it must be a bird, still, you decided to open the curtains to check it out.
Shock would be an understatement to explain what you were feeling the second your eyes laid on the person right outside your window.
The reason for your sour mood, or rather, the reason you spent hours trying to ease the pent up frustration in you each night, moaning out with need, was hanging by your window.
“Oh god,” you breathed out, brain short circuiting for a few seconds before you shook your head, opening the windows for him to come in.
Who knew Spider-Man would actually care enough to notice you?
Then you realized just how awkward the situation was, and you didn’t have much to say anymore now that he was standing right in front of you, looking around as if he was inspecting your room.
“Spider man,” you breathed out, and he chuckled.
His attention was on you now, walking closer to you, “so, you’re the one who wanted to be choked by me,” he said smoothly, and you couldn’t help but shamelessly gawk at his figure, mouth watering at the sight.
“Uhm—I mean, holy fuck you’re actually here,” you tried to voice out your thoughts, but they were a mess, which only caused him to chuckle at your shocked state.
“Didn’t you want me here, baby?” He asked and you felt your knees buckling at the deep tone of his voice.
You took another step back, only to lose balance and trip. But good for you, your spidey was quick to shoot his web on your silky night blouse, pulling you close and right into his arms.
He smelled so good.
“Careful. We don’t want you hurting your pretty face,” he whispered, tracing his glove clad finger along your jaw, gripping your chin when he noticed how your body had gone still, “deep breaths, babe.”
“Are you gonna fuck me?” You asked, voice coming out in a low whine, eyes twinkling with hope.
He chuckled, pulling his mask up which had you bubbling with anticipation, you really wanted to see what he looked like. However, he stopped a little too soon for your liking, only exposing his lips, leaning in to mumble against your own.
“I’m gonna fuck the life out of you,” he whispers, a gasp leaving your lips as you pulled him closer into a rushed kiss.
He was quick to take over, kissing you harder as he pushed you down on your bed, you could feel his fang like canines biting down on your bottom lip, “undress, quick,” he ordered, and you fumbled while getting everything off your body.
Your cheeks were warm, your eyes on his figure, which was now devoid of his costume, faint abs and strong muscles on display for you, but your mouth practically salivated at the sight of his cock, thick and hard.
Just when you sat up to touch him, he grabbed your wrist, pushing them up your head and shooting webs to tie them, making sure they didn’t move.
You never knew you’d be into web-play but here you are, getting wet by being constrained by webs.
“Please,” you begged in hopes that he’d touch you, or do something, anything.
“So needy, aren’t you?” He clicks his tongue, his fingers caressing your cunt, collecting your wetness, “so wet already,” he smirked, “wanna be fucked all night, huh?” He asked, continuing working his fingers between your legs, arousal leaking from your cunt.
His other hand was wrapped up around your neck, fingers tightening enough for you to gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt lightheaded with the whole situation, but you couldn’t have asked for anything better.
He was so good with his fingers, thumb pads circling your clit while two digits plunged in and out of you, eliciting moans out of you.
“Shh,” he whispered, his hold around your neck tightening which caused you to open your mouth, giving him the perfect opportunity to lean in and spit in your mouth, watching the glob travel down your tongue till you gulped it down, earning a praise out of him, “good girl.”
He pulled back right when your body started shaking with the orgasm building up in your lower abdomen, his hold on your neck loose to let you breathe some more before he took it to the next level.
He ran his lips down your neck, sucking harshly as he lined his cock to your eager folds, your expression blissful and your entrance so wet, it made it easy for him to bottom out, “so fucking pretty,” he groaned out.
His voice strained as he started fucking you into your mattress, his power was evident with how precise and hard his thrusts were. It was a lifetime opportunity for you, and you wished to savour every second of it as you wrapped your legs around his slender waist, pulling him even closer and deeper in your pussy.
He hit your spot over and over again, “cream my cock like a good girl, baby,” he rasped out, his own orgasm approaching.
You couldn’t hold back anymore, with his fingers still gripping your neck, the lack of air was evident but it somehow made you feel as if you were floating with unadulterated bliss around you as you finally reached your state of euphoria, coming undone on his cock, exactly when he filled you up with his cum, mixing it with yours as he emptied himself in you.
You whined when he pulled back, getting dressed after draining you, “you’re leaving?” You asked, frowning.
“Gotta save the world now, pretty,” he whispered, removing his webs from your wrists before pecking your lips and rushing out of the window, leaving you dazed.
Maybe making the poster wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
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THANK YOU FOR READING!
@jaeminvore @macaroonff @ajayke-reads @lunalovesstories @jayzdaze @deobitifull @celeste-hoon @mari-oclock @kpoprhia @ikeuizm @woniebae @lalalalawon @blessedcursd @skzenhalove @heesuncore @seuomo @kyurizeu @haechan-nahceah @tobiosbbyghorl @jezzebear @jaehoonii @itsgivingitalian @bunhoons @luvswonyoung @ma-riiii @addictedtohobi @heeliopheelia @haanigurl
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noearchives · 2 months
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sober me up
(what happens when the one piece boys are drunk?)
characters: portgas d. ace, trafalgar d. water law, sanji.
note: personally i've never been drunk enough to the point where i lose my mind or anything like that ... so this is just based off of my imagination and stuff i see in movies ;;
cw/ tags: gender neutral reader, mentions of alcohol, unestablished relationship, mutual pining.
portgas d. ace
"woah,” ace whispers, head tilted to one side as he looks at you through half-lidded eyes, saying your name in the same way he did when he met you for the first time.“is that really you?”
you're not sure if he’s putting up an act to flirt, or if he’s actually so drunk to the point where he can’t tell his imagination from reality. not knowing how to reply, you hand him a glass of water in a fluster in hopes that he’ll sober up, and he downs the entire thing in one go, mistaking it for liquor.
“wow,” ace says again, awestruck. it’s like his eyes are put in a spell to look at nothing else but you. his reaches for your face, stroking your cheekbone with his thumb. nonsense runs off his tongue as he stumbles deep into your gaze in spirals. “you're so pretty i could kiss you.”
he pauses. “can i?”
fuck it, you think. he’s drunk out of his mind, you're tipsy enough to use it as an excuse. it won't hurt if you kissed your best friend who you’ve been pining for since the dawn of time when he won't even remember anything the day after, right?
so you agree to his request, and ace wastes no time with how quickly he slides his tongue into your mouth just after two seconds of his lips meeting yours— it’s like he doesn't want you to breathe.
when he finally lets go of you, you gasp like a fish out of water while he looks at you stupidly. his mind is filled with you, you, you. one kiss isn't enough to satisfy him— he’s been dreaming of this for months, afterall. with both hands on either side of your face, he makes a bold statement once again.
“let’s do that again.”
trafalgar d. water law
law doesn't drink much, but he can't say no to his crew when they offer. initially, he planned to stay sober for the rest of the night to look after all of you, but as shachi and penguin continue to pour him drink after drink, his head grows heavier with every sip of liquor.
he stays quiet even when he’s drunk. no bold confessions, no impulsive acts, nothing. he just watches his crew drink themselves stupid, the faintest hint of a smile at the corner of his lips.
with the loud hustle of the bar and the deafening laughter of your crewmates, it’s hard to notice how intoxicated law has become until you feel a foreign weight on your shoulder. a white fur hat lands on your lap, and you only realise your captain’s resting his head on you with his eyes closed then.
“captain?” you say. your heart’s beating out of your chest. “captain, you're drunk.”
“i know.” he mumbles in reply, looking silly with his cheek squished against your shoulder.
“let me get you some water.” you try to move out of your seat, but your body doesn't budge. law’s arm holds you down firmly, and you feel the skin under his touch tingle. “captain," you say again, weaker this time. you're not sure if your lungs are working properly with how he's rendered you breathless. "you've gotta let me go," you say, betraying your heart.
"no," law mumbles against you. his hold on you tightens, and you swear he's nuzzling into your neck.
at that point, you decide that he's had one too many and that he needs to be sobered up or else he'd be in a sour mood the morning after. you awkwardly prop his arm on your shoulders as you drag him back to the polar tang with the knowing gazes of your crewmates on your backs, your captain's hat in your hand as you strain to support his weight.
"ah, young love." penguin sighs.
sanji
being an absolute lightweight, sanji's already swaying with his tie off and a few buttons undone after two shots.
"oh, my love." he sing-songs. my love? you raise an eyebrow at the nickname. "the way you look at me makes my stomach flip. your eyes are brighter than the stars, and the way you say my name tugs at my heartstrings. would you make a poor man like me happy by just looking his way?" he rambles, freestyling a verbal love letter for you right then and there. you've heard him do the same for robin and nami, but never for you. (until now, of course.)
the crew's swordsman physically cringes in second-hand embarrassment. "curly, do all of us a favor and shut that mouth of yours."
miraculously, sanji doesn't retort like he usually does. instead, he takes your hand in his as he continues his weird love poem. "if only this wasn't a dream, and i had the courage to confess my love for you in the real world. alas!"
... and he starts crying. actual tears rolling down his cheeks and everything. "but i know you would never love a pathetic man like me!" he sobs into your lap, kneeling before you as your ship's navigator averts her gaze out of embarrassment, grumbling about how her efforts of keeping his secret are wasted.
though ridiculously stupid, his confession made your heart stop. after all this time, it turns out that he's equally as smitten as you are when you thought his heart belonged to someone else. (it's hard not to assume with the way he behaves around good-looking women.)
"why did nobody tell me...?" you ask, looking around as the strawhats look away with a supressed grin.
"because he said he'll kick our asses if any of us said anything. geez, both of you are so stupid. can't you see the way he makes those disgusting heart eyes at you every time you pass by?" the swordsman grumbles.
sanji's arms are still tightly wrapped around your waist after he's done with his improv love poem. "you're so warm, even in my dreams..." he mumbles. it seems like he still hasn't realized this isn't a dream.
the two of you are going to have a looooong talk when he sobers up, you're sure.
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criminalamnesia · 3 months
Text
ending 2 for tolerate it! this was my original idea for the ending!
I just wanted to clarify that I’m writing these two endings bc of the feedback I’ve received. The first ending is for those who wanted them to reconcile/make amends, and I wanted to give those readers some closure.
this ending is for those who want reader to be happy without him (which was my original idea lol). anyways I know a lot of people didn’t like ending 1 and that’s okay!! but here’s ending two, I hope you like it better :)
[ also, this takes place in between the time that reader leaves simon/price and the last line of part two! ]
part one here, part two here, ending 1 here
your friend graciously let you live with them for a few months while you got back on your feet.
you went to therapy. stopped crying whenever you thought of him or even his name. started taking care of yourself again.
you move out and find this cute little house. it’s small, cozy. you adore it, and your friend helps you move in.
you make it your own with colors and trinkets and pictures. there’s nothing in that house that serves as a reminder of your time with him. you’d gotten rid of all the pictures, all the gifts he’d bought you before things turned sour.
fuck him. he didn’t deserve to see your growth and your happiness. he didn’t deserve anything from you.
you get used to being on your own again. it’s nice. you don’t worry about a man who is halfway across the world. don’t worry about baking a cake for his return or setting up streamers. don’t worry about how damaged he’ll be when he walks through the door.
you’re happy. you love your job, your home, your friends. you treat yourself to coffee every wednesday afternoon, and that’s when you meet him.
you’ve ordered your coffee and are sitting at one of the cafe’s little tables, scrolling on your phone, when a man clears his throat.
you look up, and he’s got the kindest smile you’ve ever seen.
“hi,” he says, and you give a small smile as you click off your phone.
“um, hi?” you say, a little unsure of why he’s speaking to you.
“not to sound weird or anything,” he begins, and you give a small laugh.
“y’know, whenever someone says that, whatever they say next does tend to sound weird.”
he nods, that smile on his lips growing a smidge wider. “right. so, I guess this will be weird then, huh? but I’ve noticed you here every wednesday, and I just wanted to tell you you’re beautiful.”
you blush. you don’t think a man has ever been so straightforward with you, and although you do think it’s kind of weird, you try to just focus on the compliment.
but your guard is up. you don’t know him.
“oh, thank you. that’s sweet,” you reply, and he’s still looking down at you.
“can I sit?” he asks, which takes you by surprise.
“um, sure? I guess?” you say, and it sounds more like a question than a statement, but he’s sliding into the seat across from you.
he introduces himself, and you tell him your name. he says it’s pretty. you’re starting to think he’s coming on too strong.
but as the two of you begin to talk, you start to realize that’s just who he is. he’s a flirt, a flatterer, but it’s good natured.
it’s easy to talk to him. he keeps the conversation going, and he seems generally interested in what you have to say. it’s a stark difference from your last relationship.
but then he tells you he’s military, and your heart nearly stops.
“oh,” you say, a small frown on your lips.
“that an issue?” he says, and his tone is teasing. he doesn’t know— how could he? but your face says it all.
his brows furrow, and he gets serious for the first time since he’d sat across from you. he starts to reach for your hand, but decides against it. again, the two of you don’t know each other, and he’s aware of that.
“I don’t have a good track record with men in the military,” you tell him, trying to lighten the mood. he can tell something’s wrong, but he doesn’t push. he takes the bait, and you’re grateful. it makes you like him even more.
that’s why you end up talking until the place closes. the employees are practically shooing you out as you and the military man apologize profusely.
you’re on the sidewalk now, and he’s smiling at you. you find yourself smiling back.
“d’you mind if I get your number?” he asks.
as much as you enjoyed talking to him, you’re still unsure. you just recovered from everything that happened— are still recovering. you don’t want to rush into anything. so, you shake your head.
“if you’re serious,” you begin, looking up at him. “I’ll see you on another wednesday.”
he nods, a mischievous smile on his face. “im up to the challenge.”
you give a small laugh, then tell him goodnight. you turn and begin to walk towards your car, and you’re smiling like an idiot.
you don’t want to get you hopes up, but that little naive part of you— a part of you you’d thought was dead and gone— is making you. you try to stamp it back down.
next wednesday, you don’t see him, and you’re a little sad about it. you don’t see him the wednesday after that, either.
you don’t see him for a few months, actually. and after a few weeks, you’ve stopped thinking about him.
but then one wednesday, you’re sitting in that coffee shop, and there he is.
he’s wearing a short sleeve shirt, and you can see fresh cuts and scrapes along his arms. he asks if he can sit, and you oblige, gesturing to the seat across from you.
“sorry for disappearing on you,” he says, and you shake your head. he doesn’t owe you anything. you barely know each other.
“that day we talked, i ended up gettin’ deployed a few days later. didn’t have your number, so…” he trails off with a cheeky smile, and you grin as you roll your eyes.
“so im to blame, hm?” you say, and he nods.
“oh, absolutely.” he’s teasing, and you laugh.
“then let’s amend that.” you hand him your phone and he lights up. he taps his number in quickly before handing the phone back to you. you send him a quick ‘hi’ so your number will pop up in his phone.
“didn’t forget about you, though,” he says, and you blush. this man certainly has a way with words. “that’s why im here. glad to see you’re still a creature of habit.”
“is that a bad thing?” you ask, and he shakes his head.
“nah, I don’t think so.”
your phone chimes then. it’s one of your friends, asking you if you can come over. you type a quick reply and start to gather your things.
“leavin’ so soon?” he says, and you give a small nod.
“friend emergency.”
he nods. “understood. well, I’ll see you around then, yeah?” he smiling as he pushes himself out of his chair.
“you do have my number now,” you remind him. “we don’t have to wait on chance encounters.”
he hums in agreement. “that’s true, but I prefer face-to-face, y’know? especially since yours is so pretty.”
“you’re a flirt,” you tell him, but you’re blushing, and he chuckles.
“guilty.”
you bid him goodbye and walk towards the exit, your mind instantly shifting gears to your friend. you don’t think about the military man again until he texts you that night.
‘friend okay?’ he types.
‘all good.’ you respond.
he’s typing back for a good minute. the bubble disappears, then reappears.
‘if there are no more friend crises for the foreseeable future, and im not shipped off to fight bad guys, how about a proper date?’
you smile as you read the message.
‘sure.’ you respond, and he sends back a smiley face.
a first date turns into a second, then a third, then a fourth. they’re spread out over a year because of his job, but you don’t find yourself minding that much. he treats you so much differently than the last man did.
he eventually asks you to be his partner, and you say yes. of course you’re a little hesitant— things with your last military man started off good, too. but you feel like it’s different this time. he’s different.
you don’t know it, but every time he’s deployed, he talks his squad’s ear off about you. tells them you’re the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, and that you’re so funny. tells them he’s gonna ask you to move in with him.
but he never mentioned your name. maybe he forgot, or maybe he just didn’t want to share that piece of you with them.
“you never shut up about this lover of yours,” simon/price says one day while they’re eating in the mess hall. although they’re not in the same squad, they’re friends, and they happen to be on base at the same time. “no way they’re real.”
your man just grins and holds out his phone, showing off his lockscreen. it’s a picture of you with your head thrown back in laughter. he’d taken it on one of your dates.
simon/price’s face darkens almost imperceptibly before he masks it. that’s you. he hadn’t thought about you in ages, but he knows that’s you in that picture. now everything comes rushing back.
your lover doesn’t notice the other man’s expression shift. he doesn’t realize that the man across from him knows you.
you had told him more about the man who broke your heart, but you’d never mentioned his name. you didn’t want to risk him knowing him.
it’s a good thing you’d never mentioned the name, because if your lover knew, he’d punch him in the jaw.
the conversation eventually shifts away from you, and simon/price is grateful. your man is none the wiser.
when he gets back home, he asks you to move in. you tell him no at first. you’re still a little broken. he understands, and doesn’t hold it against you. he takes it in stride, and you’re grateful.
you don’t know how you got so lucky this time. you don’t know how this man, who was so understanding, so kind, so caring, had practically fallen into your lap. maybe it was karma from your last relationship.
the universe crushed you once, and to make up for it, they dropped this man into your life. whatever it was, you were thankful.
the second time he asks you to move in with him, you say yes. he helps you with everything, and the whole time he’s smiling like an idiot. even when you almost drop a shelf on his toe, or when you argue with him about where to hang a picture.
you two end the night eating take out on the couch and watching trashy tv. he decides right then that he’s going to marry you one day.
a few months after you move in, he tells you he wants you to meet his friends.
you’re nervous, but he reassures you it will all be fine. tells you that they’ll love you. so, you get yourself ready and then he’s helping you into his truck, and your leg is shaking the whole way to the bar.
he puts a comforting hand on your knee. gives you a dazzling smile.
“they’ll love you,” he tells you. you nod.
when you get to the crowded bar, he leads you by the hand inside. you’re towed along behind him, so you don’t see his friends until you’re standing right in front of the booth they occupy.
you scan their faces, and you don’t recognize any of them. you’re thankful— a huge weight has been lifted off your shoulders. he introduces you to them, and you fit in easily.
the night is going well until your man mentions simon/price’s name. he couldn’t know, you’d never told him. he was telling the story of how simon/price hadn’t believed him when he was talking about you.
the rest of his friends were laughing, but you were tense. he noticed immediately, shoulder nudging yours as he leaned down to whisper in your ear.
“you okay?” he murmured, and you nodded.
he could tell you were lying, but he didn’t push it. didn’t even bring it up again until the two of you were home.
“how do you know simon/price?” he asked you as you hung your coat up on the rack. you frowned as you turned to face him.
“he was the one I dated before you. the guy who broke my heart. the one I told you about, remember?”
your man goes silent. he’s looking at you, his fists clenched at his sides. he believes you. there’s not a doubt in his mind, even for a second, that you’re not telling the truth.
“I didn’t want to tell you his name,” you admit, taking a step towards him. “in case you knew him. didn’t want to make things complicated.”
he’s still silent, his eyes trained on you as you slowly approach. an expression you can’t name paints his face.
“I understand if you want to end things,” you tell him, and that gets him moving again. he’s shaking his head. “I don’t want to come between you and your friends.”
“fuck him,” he spits, and he reaches his arms out to you. you step into his embrace and take a shaky breath. “fuckin’ bastard. I showed him a picture of you, and he didn’t say anything. I was gonna invite him tonight, but he’s on assignment, and—” he inhales sharply as his hands rest on your back. “and now im gonna break his fucking jaw.”
you push yourself back, your eyes finding your lover’s. you shake your head. “it’s not worth it. besides, don’t make any enemies within your base. you’ve got enough of those already.”
you can tell he wants to argue, but he doesn’t. he nods after a moment. silence fills the room.
“we don’t run in the same circles, usually,” he tells you, his voice quiet. “known each other since enlistment. got assigned to different squads. kept running into each other, though. kept in touch.”
“you can still—” you begin, but he interrupts.
“no, fuck him. I can’t be his friend when he’s treated you like shit. fucker will be lucky if I don’t blacken his fuckin’ eye.”
you don’t say anything. you pull yourself back towards his chest, and he holds you tight.
you don’t say anything, but your heart swells. this man, the one in your arms, is everything that he wasn’t. he doesn’t tolerate you, he celebrates you. loves you unconditionally. communicates and compromises. doesn’t pull away.
that’s why, when he asks you to marry him a month later, you say yes without thinking. because you don’t need to think.
the ceremony is small. friends and family gather and celebrate the two of you. you laugh and dance and drink the night away with the love of your life by your side.
and you don’t think of the man that broke your heart anymore. don’t give him the time of day, because you’ve moved on to something far greater. you’ve moved on to what you deserve.
a few years down the road, when your husband has finally retired, you’re making your way down the road to meet him at the coffee shop that brought you together.
someone calls your name, and your blood runs cold. you know that voice, and although you haven’t thought about who it belongs to in years, you doubt you’ll ever truly forget it.
he’s calling your name from somewhere behind you. you don’t turn around.
instead, you pull open the door of the coffee shop, step inside, and smile when you see your husband sitting at the same table you’d met him at all those years ago.
——————————————————————
author’s note:
ending 2 is finally here! while writing this, I originally pictured the reader getting with Gaz/johnny; however, I wasn’t sure how that would turn out.
how would they still work with simon/price after knowing everything? how would you go so long without hearing about/meeting gaz/johnny’s squad mates?
I didn’t know, and that’s why I scrapped the idea. You can still picture them, though! but I thought it best to have the love interest someone kinda detached from the 141.
anyways, hope you enjoyed :)
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dark-tides-in-faerun · 6 months
Note
I have poor blood circulation and on cold nights look like a stereotypical vampire. Could you write a humorous, SFW fic of someone seeing Tav's bite marks and pale complexion and telling Astarion to keep his bloodsucking friend on a tight leash? (Tav can be GN or female, either work for me).
Thank you so much for requesting ilysm! So I realized that I’ve never written anyone in a fit of laughter before (possibly for a reason LOL) but here’s my best attempt 🧡
The Vampire in the Tavern
sfw Astarion x you story!
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Astarion is angry.
He’d finally managed to get you to himself, a night at last without the others vying for your attention, and some peasant woman keeps looking over at you from the bar, dark eyes sliding up your body in a way that he knows all too well.
It’s possessive. It’s proprietary. And it’s pissing him off. 
It had started as just mildly irritating, a glance here and there. But she’d been at it for at least an hour now, and not only does that wretch have no right to eye up his partner, but the implication that she finds you more appealing than she does him is vexing. Extremely vexing. And it doesn’t seem to matter how many times Astarion touches you. How many times his fingers lightly graze the line of your jaw or brush against your hand, that godsforsaken woman won’t stop staring.
And you’ve not noticed, of course. For a formidable warrior and your party’s fearless leader, your lack of awareness of your surroundings is astounding, especially where Astarion is concerned. It’s a trait that exasperates and exhilarates him in equal measure. He could do without it on the battlefield, but in a social setting, he delights in it. The way that just catching your eye can cause words to die on your lips, whatever conversation you’d been in briefly forgotten with just a little glance from him. He slips his hand a little higher up your thigh just to prove it to himself, and when your breath catches in response, he smiles.
If only that bloody woman would stop staring, this had the beginnings of a very promising night indeed.
You clear your throat, cheeks flushed and put both hands on the table, pushing yourself to your feet. Astarion frowns but you shoot him an apologetic smile that’s meant to reassure and it does, sinking through his skin and warming his unbeating heart. It’s adorable.
“I’ll be right back. Nature calls.” You say, by way of explanation, and though you’re trying to keep your voice steady, he can hear your desire, thick and sweet as it sticks in your throat. Delicious.
“I’ll be waiting, my sweet.” He lets the words fall from his lips in a way that’s sultry and intentional, staring up at you from beneath dark eyelashes, and you actually shiver. Astarion grins, delighted with himself, as you flush and turn away. His eyes dart back to the woman, and his grin dies on his lips, mood immediately souring again as her beady little eyes fix on you as you make your way to the bathroom.
The absolute fucking audacity.
You see the cords in her throat working as she swallows, biting her lip, and the she does something even more audacious than simply looking at you. As soon as the latrine door swings shut behind you, she rises to her feet and starts to walk over to the table.
Astarion glares up at her, not bothering to hide his irritation, as she comes to a halt at the edge of the booth. She looks uneasy, calloused fingers pulling at the threads of her road worn shirt, and Astarion swears that if she so much as asks for your name he’s going to rip her throat out where she stands, witnesses be damned.
She hovers for a moment, not speaking, and that serves to only annoy him more.
“Yes?” his voice is tight and cold, and she flinches at the harshness. Good.
“I-I’m sorry to interrupt you sir, but…” She trails off into silence and he grinds his teeth.
“Yes, well how sorry can you truly be, given that you have interrupted me.” He snaps and Astarion frowns as he realises that she’s actually shivering. What in the nine hells. He knows that you’re good looking, but this is a bit much. “Come on then, spit it out. I haven’t got all night.”
“I… I’m sorry, but I couldn’t just – I couldn’t in good conscience sit by.” She says and he raises an eyebrow and takes a sip of his drink. A strange way to approach the topic of wanting to snatch his date from him, but at least it was a start. “Sir, you’re in grave danger.”
He splutters, spitting wine over the table in a most undignified way as she stares back at him, wide eyed and fearful.
“I’m sorry, what?” He manages, when he stops choking long enough to speak. His voice is too loud, and the people at the next table look over, but it’s like he’s lost control of his faculties. This is not how this conversation was meant to go.
“It’s true, sir, and there’s not much time. You must leave, now.”
“And might I ask why?” he asks, incredulously, and then immediately recoils in disgust as the woman shoots a fearful glance in the direction of the latrines and slips into the booth beside him.
“That… thing that you’re with.” She whispers, and he has to fight the physical urge to push her away as she grabs his hand between hers. “It’s not a person. It’s a vampire.”
His mouth drops open, but he doesn’t respond. He can’t. The ridiculousness of this situation has actually rendered him speechless. She wasn’t staring at because she fancied you, she was staring because, because-
An uncontrollable feeling rises in his chest.
“You’re not serious.” He gasps, and his voice doesn’t even sound like him.
“Please sir, I’ve seen their kind before and it’s unmistakable. The pallor of the skin, the coldness of the touch.” She’s actually shaking now and it’s too much. He can smell the fear on her, the dampness of her palms as they press against his, the pounding of her blood as it courses through her veins. “They stalk these taverns looking for people to drain dry in alleyways, and that one has its sights set on you, I know it. You have to leave, now!”
He tries not to, he really does.
But he can’t help it.
He fucking cackles in her face.
“Fnnff.” He gasps, grabbing his hand away and covering his mouth, to try and stop the uncontrollable passage of the hysteria that’s flooding from his lips. “Excuse – snnf- e-excuse me.”
“This ain’t no laughing matter, that’s a vampire, in there, I’m sure of it.” The woman cries, wringing her hands, and she looks so earnest that he simply can’t.
“Hah!” He chokes, barely able to draw breath before the next giggle explodes out of him and the woman, for her part, looks appalled.
“I mean it, sir, you’re in danger.” She says, the first hint of annoyance seeping into her voice, and that just sets him off again. He crumples over on the table, hands digging into the wood so hard it buckles beneath his fingers. He almost feels sorry for every time he’s every used Tasha’s hideous laughter on someone, because this is bloody awful. His stomach hurts, tears are leaking from his eyes, but he still can’t stop. Of all the fucking accusations.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the door to the latrines swing open and you step back into the tavern. He turns to get a good look at you. To see the fearsome night stalker in the flesh, the unholy fiend that has this poor woman so terrified, and when he meets your eyes the expression in them is equal parts bemused and concerned and he fucking wheezes.
You, a vampire.
The woman spots you too, and she stumbles to her feet eyes wide and bright with fear. Astarion throws his head back and lets out a guffaw of laughter so loud and embarrassing that it’s almost enough to sober him, but unfortunately, it’s made you, the object of this woman’s abject terror, jump.
He can’t cope.
“Is everything okay?” Your voice is amused, but a little concerned and Astarion can barely nod as he clutches his stomach. He sees the woman’s eyes slide to your throat and the marks of his bite shine accusatorily back at her in the tavern light.
“Vampire.” She breathes, pointing at you, almost falling over herself as she backs away from them and Astarion collapses onto his side, tears streaming down his face as the woman shoots him one final, terrified look and then turns on her heels and flees into the night.
You stare after her, thoroughly confused now and Astarion is barely able to contain himself enough to move over to let you sit down.
“What in the hells was that about?” You ask, as you slip into the recently vacated spot and Astarion swallows down a giggle, barely able to breathe as he grins at you. It would appear his laughter is somewhat infectious, as you let out a little laugh of your own and touch his face with a bemused frown. And it’s only then that Astarion realizes just how much attention his little display has brought to you both. The people of the tavern are all staring at them and it’s not a friendly look. No doubt they heard the word ‘vampire’ and that, finally, is sobering enough for him to get himself under some semblance of self-control.
“That is a story not for here, my blood sucking friend.” He gasps, stifling another giggle as the look on your face is almost enough to set him off again. He nudges you gently out of the booth and grabs your hand, pulling you towards the tavern doors. “But don’t worry, if I manage to survive the journey in your company, I’ll tell you all about it when we get back to camp.”
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genacity · 7 months
Text
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DAY ONE. FIRST TIME?
ft. gojo satoru — jujutsu kaisen (呪術廻戦)
your boyfriend gojo satoru is convinced you’ll never be able to knock him off of the pedestal he stands on. saying he’ll always be the one to fuck you good and straight, that you’ll never one up him. maybe it’s time to show him that he’s not always right.
ruling. nsfw — mature content
content warnings. dom! gn! reader, first time sub! gojo, anal penetration / pegging, fingering, overstimulation, bratty gojo, slight dacryphilia, dumbification themes, hair pulling, spit as lube, established relationship, plot before porn
an. this came out way too long. anyways hope y’all enjoy day 1, some of the kinks listed on the ml did not make the cut bcs the fic would take 80 years to read and the intro is already cutting into my lifetime. also not proofread. anyways enjoy fucking gojo!!
kinktober 2023 masterlist
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you and your boyfriend gojo satoru have been dating for five months at this point. your relationship is everything you’ve ever wanted in one; secure, loving, and honest. satoru is the most caring man you’ve probably ever met— though cheeky, he’s just as infatuated with you as he was when you first met.
not only is gojo amazing, but so is the sex. not to be a prude, but it’s true. he knows how to take care of his baby and never wants to leave you unsatisfied.
the only sour thing about your relationship is his teasing. especially in the mornings-after.
when you’re groaning, pressing down on a muscle in your back as you complained to gojo about how hard he went down on you the night prior. your boyfriend’s fierce laughter as he’s propped up on one arm, staring at you from his safety beneath the covers of your shared bed and messy hair.
“aw, c’mon, you know you liked it.” gojo would say as you kept prodding at your shoulders and legs. you’d shoot him a dirty look and he’d snicker loudly again. “okay, okay, i’m sorry. i’ll make it up to you today, i swear.”
one morning, your boyfriend had tossed his still-bare body over yours after a long session that night. face first into the pillow behind your head; long, spindly limbs sprawled out like a starfish on top of you as you both shared silly remarks about the long night you both had.
“y’know, one day, i’m gonna get you back for all the times you leave me sore like this,” you huffed, earning a muffle giggle from your boyfriend with his head in the sheets. “what? i’m serious.” you insisted.
gojo’s head snapped up to look at you. squinted blue eyes followed by another ugly little giggle. “uh huh, i bet.”
“what do you mean, ‘you bet’?” you scrunched your nose as your boyfriend gave you another mean chuckle through his big grin. “c’mon, y/n. you know you can’t top my skills.”
“now what does that mean?” you shot back, cocking an eyebrow at gojo’s funny expressions.
he hummed, thinking for a bit before turning his attention back to you. “you know i’m good at what i do. if you even tried to top me, you’d just end up giving up anyways.” you rolled your eyes. “not true.”
“what’s not true? that you’d give up, or that i’m good? because y’know, these fingers aren’t only good at sorcery—”
“yeah yeah, shut the fuck up.”
ever since that night, though, you haven’t stopped thinking about the idea. reversing the roles. it’s something the both of you had never tried before, but were you open to the idea. you just needed to make sure that satoru was, too.
but there was something different about tonight in particular that made you feel a bit more confident than usual.
it started off as it usually did whenever the both of you were in the mood. a handsy hello as soon as you got home from work; peppering your face with kisses and fingers pressing against your hips as you let your boyfriend lead you to the bedroom.
you’d barely be able to get a word in with the way gojo would welcome you home. lips quickly pressed together and without hesitation your back would be against the mattress and clothes discarded onto the floor.
“missed you today.” gojo mumbled into the kiss, lips sloppily trying to chase the pattern the both of you shared. hands gripping at your sides as he pushed you eagerly onto the bed.
as soon as you hit the bed you immediately grabbed at his arms and pulled him forward onto you. something inside you was pounding— pounding for tonight to be different than the rest.
you pulled gojo onto the bed, chest rising with heated breaths as a switch in your brain flipped. hands pushing him down beneath you, his back against the sheets as your boyfriend let out a breathy gasp.
“hey, what’re you doin’?” gojo mumbled, looking up at you through glassy eyes and white lashes as you reveled at the sight of satoru beneath you— a sight you weren’t used to seeing, but welcomed with open arms.
“you’re gonna let me take care of you tonight. okay toru?” you said, his eyes blowing wide and lips twitching into a small grin.
“take care of me?” he chuckled, watching as you slowly started to undo his shirt. “i’d like to see you try.”
you rolled your eyes as you pulled his shirt off, tossing it onto the floor. gojo watched your every movement, watching with interest as one of your hands quickly went to circle one of his nipples.
he shivered at your cold fingertips tracing along his chest, but laughed all the same. “what, ‘s this all you’re gonna do? c’mon, baby, let me just take care of you and— mmph.” gojo was promptly cut off when he felt your fingers press against the hard-on in his pants. a small smile crept onto your lips at the sight.
“hush, toru.” you muttered, palming him through his pants as gojo let out a strained groan. “this is what you get for being so mean to me all the time. leaving me brusied and sore.”
“you said you wanted it rough.” satoru panted, looking down at you as his long fingers started to grab at the sheets beneath him. “oh, i do.” you shrugged. “but now, it’s your turn to feel what i feel.”
your boyfriend’s breath hitched in his throat at the words from your tongue. he quickly gathered himself, clearing his throat to mask the whimper that slipped his lips. “you’ll just give up, y’know. you’re just gonna give into me and come crawling back.”
“that’s what you may think, but i know what i want.” you said, removing your hand from his bulge to reach for his glinting silver belt buckle. “you’re gonna take my cock and behave, just like i do for you. and if you don’t like it, you can say our safe word and leave.”
gojo gulped. he knew you wouldn’t do anything he didn’t want. he was in the position to say no whenever he wanted to. but the thought of your thick cock splitting him open had him salivating; even if he didn’t want to admit it to his big ego.
“satoru.” your voice called him back, snapping him out of the trance he was in. he looked down at you, his belt already undone and ready to be pulled off. “color, satoru. tell me what you want.”
he swallowed thickly again, lips parting as he whispered. “green.”
you smiled softly at him, slowly pulling his belt from the loops as you muttered a slow “alright.” unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down alongside his boxers. his pretty cock revealing itself to you.
“already leaking for me, huh toru?” you snickered, the feelings of your breath along his dick making him twitch.
“still gonna break you, y’know.” gojo murmured. “you’re just gonna give up and beg me to fuck you.”
“whatever makes you feel better.” *you said plainly. the tone in your voice left him shivering. suddenly, you raised your hand to his lips and with no hesitation said, “spit.”
gojo blinked down at you, who was watching him expectantly. he parted his lips and let his tongue slip forward, spitting onto your fingers as he maintained eye contact with you. “thank you, toru.” you said, lubricating your fingers before you lined them with the edge of his hole.
he felt his heart leap into his throat when your fingertips prodded at his entrance. silently, satoru spread his legs to let you know he wanted you. and you seemed to understand his prompt, for almost immediately your long fingers slipped into him with ease.
“fuck, oh god.” gojo immediately hissed, clenching tight around your middle and ring fingers as they slowly began to thrust in and out of him. “oh my god.”
he watched as your hand worked at his insides; curling your fingers as the sorcerer finally allowed for small whines to slip past his lips. each sound left his stomach turning— the dirty sounds of his own hole clenching around his partner’s fingers making him shudder.
gojo was stuck at small whines of pleasure, heavy breathing and the occasional gasp, until your fingers hit a particularly good spot inside him that made him cry out.
“ohn— oh fuck,” gojo whined out. “there. right, right there, that— ah!” he gasped when your fingers curled against his sweet spot, making him flinch and pulse around you. “‘s that feel good, satoru?” you asked, slowly thrusting your fingers in and out of his hole, taking note of the way his fingers curled around the satin sheets of your shared bed.
satoru nodded. his chest rising and falling with sharp breaths as he kept his eyes locked on you. “yeah. feels good. right there, feels so good…” he murmured. jolting back with every thrust of your fingers in and out of him, muscles tensing and relaxing in ragged patterns before you eventually pulled your fingers out.
“so messy.” you murmured, raising your hand to his mouth again. “spit.” and he did, right onto your fingers once more.
“i think you’re ready to take me, toru.” you spread his legs and began to undo your own buckle. your boyfriend watched your hands, every move closer to watching you reveal yourself making him almost shake with anticipation.
it wasn’t until you finally pulled out your cock did he realize how big you truly were. eyes blowing into saucers as he immediately began to blabber.
“you look so big!” satoru whined. “no way you’re gonna make me take all of that!”
“oh, i will.” you purred, pressing the head of your cock to his hole. he flinched, feeling your tip just against his ass as he went to protest again. “why can’t i jus’ fuck you like usual, baby?”
you laughed meanly at his words. “what, are you scared, satoru?” you asked, leaning in and simultaneously pressing your tip just against his opening. “scared i’m gonna break you open?”
“no!” gojo shook his head furiously. “i just- i just think you’re gonna get tired and give up.”
you sighed, staring down at your boyfriend with his big wide eyes and wet eyelashes. after a moment of bathing in his beauty, you grabbed hold of his thighs and leaned back. “color, satoru.”
gojo hesitated. looking from you down to his drooling cock that was just begging to be touched. his inflated ego kept hammering in his chest, but the feeling of your tip against his hole drove every thought away and left him squirming.
“green.”
“good.” and before he knew it, you’d forced yourself into him. a loud moan clawing its way through his throat and spilling from his lips as you began to pound into him, gradually picking up speed.
suddenly, that same hammering feeling in his chest immediately died out. as soon as satoru felt your cock sliding in and out of his walls, pressing up against his prostate with every thrust, his demeanor immediately unraveled.
“fuck— oh my— fuck, you’re so big!” gojo cried out. hands scrambling to ground himself as he gripped onto the sheets. “ah— oh— oh my fucking, please, y/n!”
you couldn’t help but watch gojo’s big blue eyes grow teary. rolling back into his head as you fucked him, forcing his legs back to angle yourself well enough to hit all of the right places.
“already all ruined for me, satoru.” you cooed. your words slipped into his brain and toyed with his thoughts, leaving him quietly whimpering as he felt your hands near his head.
all of a sudden, the cloudy feeling forming in gojo’s brain flickered as you took a handful of his hair and forced him to look at you. yelping as your fingers intertwined with his snowy locks and pulled his head up.
“what was that you said earlier about me getting tired and giving up, toru?” you asked, hips angling and pounding into him faster and faster. all he could do was hiccup and gasp, head subtly bobbing from the force of your thrusts combined with the weakening grip on his scalp.
“ahmm— ah, i don’t— uhn…” he stammered, too focused on the feeling of the head of your cock kissing his prostate with every thrust to make out the words you were saying. the fog in his head was coming back, accompanied by a knot tightening in his stomach.
satoru was panting and shaking. too focused on the heat in his lower abdomen spreading across his body. “i’m- it’s-” he stuttered out, words slurred together. his brain was rattling inside his head. too embarrassed to admit the fact that he was already about to cum his brains out to himself as you kept hammering his hole. “y/n, i’m gonna— haaah, oh!”
“gonna what?” you asked, thrusts growing deep and sloppy as you kept your quick pace. “c’mon, finish your sentence. don’t tell me you’ve already gone dumb.”
his vision grew blurry with tears, a few even spilling over and down his cheeks. the heat in his stomach kept burning, hotter and hotter as his brain tried to scramble for words to try and form a sentence. hell, even a word would be nice.
“ah, ahn, i’m— haah, ah, ah!” gojo began to squeal. your grip on his hair grew tighter as he completely began to forget you were even talking to him.
and suddenly, he was cumming all over himself with a garbled “cu— ah, aahhn!” his scalp burning from the force you held him up with, legs twitching as his cock bobbed with every stream of cum he coated his stomach with.
you slowed your thrusts as you watched him cum, but didn’t halt completely. as soon as he was done, you immediately began picking up your pace once more.
“wait, wh— fuck!” satoru whined out as you let go of his hair and flipped him onto his hands and knees. his head stuffed into the pillow that was once below him as you drove your cock into his hole with more fervor than before. “i- i just came! y/n, baby, i just-”
“i never said you could cum, did i?” you asked. immediately he shut his mouth, clenching around you with a loud whine. “you’re gonna keep taking my cock until i’ve cum. until then, you sit here and look pretty for me. is that clear?”
at first he didn’t respond. not until you grabbed hold of his hair from behind and forced him up again. “i said, is that clear, satoru?”
gojo eagerly nodded his head, panting and whimpering with your every movement. “yes. yes, ‘s clear! fuck me, please!”
you were going to have a long night.
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bluexiao · 2 years
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#babe?! that ain’t my name? i mean… it is but—
—when you call them by their name and not by an endearment after being together for a long time 
CHARACTERS. Aether, Albedo, Al-Haitham, Ayato, Childe, Cyno, Dainsleif, Diluc, Gorou, Heizou, Il-Dottore, Itto, Kaeya, Kazuha, Pantalone, Scaramouche, Tighnari, Thoma, Venti, Xiao, Zhongli; gn! Reader 
THEMES. established relationship; fluff; just them reacting; kinda suggestive on scara, kazuha & cyno’s part (if you look at it that way lmao) 
NOTES. fighting against a rodent while writing this long piece. i deserve an award me thinks. 
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ZHONGLI
Would notice in an instant. Even if you intended it or not, he will immediately ask “Is there something the matter, love?”
He’d be more worried over the fact that there must be something that’s bothering you, which prompted your mood to turn sour. 
He’d also try to think if something happened earlier on, trying to recall if he had done something or if you’d been like this since early on. 
Nothing really gets past him so he will know the truth by the end of the day, as much as possible, even if you were pranking him. If you were, he wouldn’t mind, as long as you are doing alright. 
Though he’ll most likely tease you after that. 
“Ah, I see… You’re getting foxy by the day, darling.” 
XIAO
Sends you a look but wouldn’t say a single word.
Would immediately think if he had done something wrong or if you’d finally gotten sick of him or something. Poor babe. 
He has this cute frown on his lips and sometimes, he opens them, thinking he should ask you or something but would stop himself. 
What if you’re merely in a foul mood? Most humans act like this when they feel unwell. 
You’ll just know how affected he is by how he stiffens and ponders on this on his own, or if he feels even more worried, he will get out of your way, thinking he’s just a nuisance or something. 
You might have to apologize very well afterward, even if you choose not to tell him that it is a prank. Kiss him and cuddle him while you reassure him that he did nothing wrong, please. The arms that are wrapped on your waist are a testament to how much he needed that. 
VENTI 
You better pray he doesn’t notice or he’ll immediately retaliate. 
But no matter what your prayers are unless he is drunk, he would instantly hear how his name left your lips ever so casually. 
“Windblume, you have to take that back! I’m not Venti!—well, not for you!” 
He’d go into the theatrics, I advise you shouldn’t really do this prank while you two are outside, or else other people will give you both weird glances at his… dramatic “performance”. 
THOMA
He is observant, but he did not want to pry much as well. 
Would give you your space (because he’s a gentleman like that), but if you seem like you’re not really angry at him… he’d be utterly confused. 
“Babe,” he calls you, probably emphasizing the word too much, “are you perhaps… intentionally not calling me the same way you usually would?” “I mean… not that I mind but… well, I do mind.” 
Will make sure that you don’t feel guilty whatsoever—the poor man probably doesn’t even know it’s a prank. 
TIGHNARI
He notices it but he’d think that it’s merely because you’re not in the mood on that specific day, so he tries to not speak about it.. at first, ignoring it and going back to what he was previously preoccupied with. 
As someone who can talk a lot with himself, he will be able to take his mind off of your little stunt for a bit. Actually, he may be too busy to even realize that you may just be pranking him. 
That is until he realizes that you’ve been calling his name continuously and with emphasis, even—something is definitely wrong. 
“Tighnari! Tighnari! What is this mushroom called again? Tighnari?” 
He supposes he had let you indulge in your trick for a long time already, and enough is enough. 
He turns around and instead of reaching for the mushroom, he takes your hand in his. Looking your way and waiting until your gaze meets his—it already was. 
“Are you enjoying yourself, love? I suppose you are, aren’t you?” 
SCARAMOUCHE
Crunches his forehead and glares at you. Immediately. 
Preposterous! Who said you could call him by his name? 
But honestly… whatever stunt you’re pulling at, he doesn’t like it one bit, and he’d act like it. Actually, his actions are very… very him. 
Immediately, he’d pull you onto his lap and nuzzle his face on your neck, inhaling your scent, and just as your face was heating up with this action, you could hear his low voice, lips directly over your ear. 
“Who? I don’t know who you’re talking about. Nope, I am not Scaramouche, try again, darling.” 
PANTALONE
This is a call to bring you another gift. 
You probably will receive the gift first before you could even say that it’s all a prank, chill. 
He may not take it as an offense, actually. He’s more so finding you adorable for this and thinks how much of a sly fox you are. 
Though you’ll have to be careful with how many times you’ll tease this man, his patience is not that very far when it comes to having someone up to him on something. Even you. 
KAZUHA
Probably already knows it’s a prank but will still let you indulge in teasing him… at least, a few times. Of course, it’s also a precaution in case you really are pissed and he’s just overreading it. 
If he’s already sure that you’re just toying with him, of course, he will make sure to set everything straight. 
He knows very well that as long as he doesn’t address this with you, you will continue to call him as such. He can’t have that, can he?! 
“I appreciate you calling my name, dove,” he’d reach for your hand and raise it to kiss its back, eyes looking straight at you with a small smirk playing on his lips, “but the game’s over, love, I’ve already caught up to your intentions. What do you say about stopping the charades so we could go and excuse ourselves for today, hm? 
KAEYA
“Love, I don’t suppose that’s what you should call me, hm? No worries, I will let you go for now.”
Will be very teasing, willing to make you suffer after almost making him suffer a heart attack—but really, at first he thought that he was in trouble or that you were somehow in a bad mood to even see him or anyone else. 
But after observing you—oh my, you don’t look like in a bad mood at all, he was definitely a hundred percent sure that you were merely pranking him. 
Thus, you surely wouldn’t mind if he’d do the same, would you? 
ITTO
Contrary to belief, he doesn’t react as soon as he hears his name. Though he definitely notices it, especially with how he instantly whips his head and gazes your way. 
“Babe, what do you think about going out?” he asks, emphasizing how he called you with an endearment. “Yeah, sure, Itto. I don’t mind.” 
Okay, now it’s war! 
He’d pester you to bits. You’d start to regret even playing the prank on him. 
IL DOTTORE
Now it’s really fine for you to call his name, his real name. But calling him with his Fatui name? That is odd… but not entirely impossible. 
He knows you very well, so it wouldn’t come as a surprise if you’re teasing him, much like the other times you would. Though not as usual, of course, that doesn’t leave out the possibility that this is one of those times. 
So he lets you try. It’s nice to see you try… but would you be able to make him react? He’s quite curious as well. 
HEIZOU
“Hm? What is this?” he’d mutter to himself. “Huh? What was that, Heizou?” you’d ask after hearing him mutter something but did not clearly know what it was. Did he notice, perhaps?  
Of course, he did! He wouldn’t be hailed the best detective in town if he hadn’t, would he? 
And besides… you’ve done this multiple times… prank him and such. And he the same. This is nothing new to him. 
Furthermore, two can play the game. 
“I mean, I don’t know, Y/n, care to explain to me?” “What should I explain to you, Heizou?” “Y/n, I know you know what I’m talking about.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Heizou. 
Y’all are both petty, a match made from heaven. This will probably go on the whole day. 
GOROU
He has a keen hearing, and also a fragile heart. 
You’d think he just didn’t hear it but his ears were pointed downward seconds after and he had become… a bit nervous with the tone of his voice. 
“Gorou? Is something wrong ba-” you halted, realizing your mistake, “Is something wrong?” You repeated the question, however, he already caught on. 
“Love… a-are you… mad at me? Did I do something wrong?” 
(How dare you hurt this baby istg) 
You’d most likely cave in from how your heart was wrenching over his reaction. 
DILUC
He does not mind, but it did bother him a bit. 
Were you mad? Did something happen for you to act so unusually? 
He’s a bit of a worrier, you see... Well, maybe too much. 
“Darling, is there something wrong? Would you like to rest a bit?” 
Literally the sweetest. The moment that he’d begin to even comprehend that there might be something or someone bothering you or that you feel uncomfortable for even a second, he’ll be wiling to eradicate it quickly. 
If he learns that it is merely a prank of yours, he’d merely raise a brow, thinking that such pranks even exist, and merely brush it off. Well, it’s good that you’re okay though. 
DAINSLEIF
He did not particularly mind whatever you call him. (this man is built different, wbk)
He sees nothing wrong with it, and even if you were teasing him, it was not like he was faking his reaction–he did not mind.
You’ll get nothing from him, istg. 
Well, maybe except for the way he’d squeeze your hand whenever you initiated holding his—sure, maybe it’s a simple gesture, you supposed it was his way of showing his affection despite your teasing. 
CYNO
He did not mind it… at first. 
But if you continue to call him by his name, he’ll definitely feel that there is something suspicious going on. However, it is far more than likely that you’re just teasing him, just like how you usually would, trying to see what reaction you’d be able to pull from him and so on. 
He knew you that much, and if you think he’ll let you tease him, you are gravely mistaken. 
Though usually, he’d just ignore them, he figured that this time, he’d try something different. The opposite, even. 
“Love… are you doing this on purpose?” Anyone else would've trembled under the gaze of his scarlet eyes—but you weren’t just anyone, and by the way he played with your fingers, you knew right away that your boyfriend wasn’t really mad. 
“Perhaps… I shall make you remember the consequences of teasing me like this, Y/n?” 
CHILDE
Did you really think you could get away from this? 
Of course, not! It’s a match at this point! Who says he wouldn’t fire back?
“Bab–I mean, Y/n,” he clears his throat, “today is such a lovely day, isn’t it? Ah, I’d love a drink right now, what do you think bab–I mean, Y/n?” 
“Ah, why is this so hard,” he’d complain with a mutter under his breath. He’d been too far used to calling you with an endearment that he forgets to even intentionally call your name as revenge. 
AYATO
What a sly trick you have there. And of course, he did notice it. 
No matter, it was not like it pained him, nor did he think that it was wrong of you to call him by just his name and not any endearment you’d usually do, or maybe the usual “my lord” with a hint of slyness in your voice. 
Still, it was quite entertaining for you to even try to rile him up. 
So what does he do? Does the same. 
“Hm? What did you say, Y/n? I can’t hear you when you’re that far… Y/n.” 
ALHAITHAM 
He figured at first that you were just testing the waters, seeing what he’d do or say. He knew your intentions but not the full of it. 
It was quite an easy guess, actually. It would have been because you’ve hung out with him for far too long that you began to experiment and research about trivial things such as this—which mostly focused on him though. 
Honestly, he’d find it quite endearing—how you’d look at him as if you’re expecting something from him or try to peak with the corner of your eyes or the purse in your lips, trying to suppress a giggle. 
Maybe he’ll let you indulge this time. 
He’d snake his long arms on your sides and lean into your ear, whispering, “Oh? Did you call my name, love?” 
ALBEDO
Frowns but ponders to himself. 
There is a possibility of three separate reasons why you might act like this. 
One, you are pissed at him. 
Two, you might just be pissed in general. 
And three, you are pranking him. 
It really depends on how you had been acting with him throughout your relationship which one weighs the heaviest, but he will still consider the other options, nonetheless. 
He’s smart, he’ll try to observe you at first before he will conclude his observations. Of course, he’ll probably be immersed in solving this mystery, so even if he finds out you were merely pranking him, he will only be relieved that you are not really angry at him. 
Emotions are one thing he finds difficult to handle, which is why it’s even better for you to prank him than be really mad—not that he’ll always let you prank him, but he can let you indulge… sometimes. 
AETHER
Does not mind being called by his name. Actually, he’d be even more concerned about your well-being than his own. 
“Are you feeling well? Would you like to rest a bit?” As a traveler himself, he knows how tiring adventuring is, and of course, he’d also have to note that not everyone has the same endurance as him. So when you insist every day that you’d like to join him, it was something he always would be concerned about. 
He’d not even think about you tricking him, for him, whatever you call him was all on your own accord and it’s the same for him. Though if it is unusual for you to call him by his name, of course, he’ll have to consider that there might be something wrong. 
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saetoru · 2 years
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[ REACH ] SCARAMOUCHE.
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scaramouche is awkward the first time he lays beside you, rigid and hardly relaxed when his body slides under the covers—you’d almost think he doesn’t want to be near you if you didn’t know him any better. you keep a small distance between you both when you see the way he seems to stiffen the closer you get, whispering a soft goodnight before closing your eyes.
what you don’t seem to see, however, is the way his eyes wander to your figure every few seconds, lingering over your face and raking over your features. you don’t see the way his eyes soften when you curl into the sheets for warmth. you don’t see the way his hand reaches out as you sleep, a little shaky at first—hesitant. he brushes a finger against your cheek as if testing the waters—and then he retreats almost immediately.
because you look delicate like this, soft and fragile, too easy to disappear suddenly, like you were never there to begin with. he doesn’t think he should be here beside you—but then you crinkle your nose in your slumber, and despite his better judgement, he smiles a little at the sight. his fingers run over the swell of your cheeks and brush over the bridge of your nose, delicately tracing the skin as he maps your features.
it’s not until you nibble on his fingertip as he traces your bottom lip does he realize you’re now awake.
“what are you—”
“how romantic,” you tease, grinning cheekily as your eyes flutter open, “and here i almost thought you didn’t like me for a bit.”
“that’s because i don’t like you,” he grunts, pushing you away (though gently) as you scoot closer and wriggle your brows.
“if you wanted to cuddle, you could just ask,” you giggle, and he glares.
you’ve always been bold, far bolder than he should let you get away with—but you throw him the bright grin you always do, and somehow he finds himself softening the harsh edges, like the glass is rounded so he doesn’t cut you as you reach your hand out.
“i don’t,” he huffs, “now go to sleep.”
there’s a slight pout on his face—though, you don’t think he realizes as much, and pointing it out would only sour his mood more. so you smile to yourself, taking in the way his hand falls limply onto the mattress beside him.
if he craves to reach for you again, to feel the warmth of your skin press against the tips of his fingers one more time, he makes no indication of it. scaramouche never reaches first—he simply tolerates your back hugs and linked arms, let’s you follow him around and maybe even hold his hand if he’s in a good mood. there’s always a disgruntled protest, however weak it might be, but just like always, he never pulls away.
and something tells you he doesn’t want to—something about the way his expression breaks for a swift moment before it’s hardened again tells you that maybe he needs your touch more than you need his.
so you flick his forehead, make his brows furrow and his chest ache with that smile you shoot him, the same one that soothes over the cracks the world has left in him over the years and fills them until he’s whole. “i would be asleep, if someone didn’t wake me.”
he hates that you’re right—but more than anything, he hates how easily you trust him. he hates how easy it is for his harsh glares to go ignored, how easy it is not to care about his bitter words and cold resolve, how easy it is to give and give when you get nothing in return. and because you never seem to care just how hard it is to love someone like scaramouche, you wrap yourself around his arm, making him stiffen with a scowl.
“hey, get off,” he says—but even as he pokes your shoulder to make a point, he makes no moves to pull away. it tells you enough, you think, it tells you everything you need to know.
please don’t ever let go.
“are you sure you want that, kuni?” you hum, reaching to poke his cheek, “you sure seem to like touching me—”
“i’ve had enough,” he grunts, “you can go sleep in another bed.”
“this is my bed,” you snort.
you’re right again, which only makes him ten times more irritated, but maybe…maybe he’s also ten times more in love. he wonders for a moment—thinks whether or not someday he can really bring himself to admit it.
so for now, he doesn’t pull away—and he hopes that’s enough to make you keep reaching out.
“whatever,” he mutters, and almost too swiftly, as if he wills himself to do it before he can change his mind, his arm tugs you closer against his side, letting your head fall to his chest. “i’d say it’s ours now,” he says quietly.
you grin, reaching a hand out to grab his, squeezing gently as your fingers lace with his.
and when you whisper, “goodnight, kuni,” with a kiss to his chest, he doesn’t pull away.
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© hanmas do not plagiarize, repost, translate to other sites, or recommend on platforms outside tumblr such as tik tok
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i’m posting this and running away bc i hate it lmao bye
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seresinhangmanjake · 2 months
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Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader - We Both Know
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Summary: Simon broke up with you but you both know it was a stupid choice.
Notes/Warnings: Stalker-ish Ex!Simon; Soft!Simon; Insecure!Simon (a little bit); some smut (18+), fluff, cursing, typos probably
Words: 1642
He’s here. You know he’s here. Not because you can see him or hear him or feel him—he’s too skilled for that—but because you know Simon Riley like the back of your damn hand. And Simon Riley won’t let you go. He has not proven himself capable of letting you go. Not yet, not fully, and if you can help it, not ever.
When you close the door behind you and kick off your shoes, you don’t bother turning on the lights. You’ve spent nearly two months flipping that switch in your entryway, pretending he isn’t somewhere in your apartment. Two months of going about your nightly routine as if there isn’t an intruder in your home. Two months of ignoring the soft shutting of your front door or window once you’ve settled into bed. But you’re tired of playing this game, and frankly, you miss him—the man; not the ghost who has been haunting you, trailing you, hiding in plain sight.
“You've been watching me,” you announce into the void. 
A handful of beats pass but not for a second do you let yourself believe you’re crazy for attempting to converse with blackness and silence. Then the little cord on your lamp is pulled by thick fingers, illuminating the side of the apartment where he stands. He’s a shadow in the corner of your living room, drenched in black from head to toe, skull-printed balaclava included, and it takes everything in you not to rush to his side, shove that piece of fabric up over his chin, and kiss him.
“You've made it necessary,” he scolds; the first words he has spoken to you in nearly sixty-five days. It’s the longest he has forced you to go without hearing his voice, having been attached at the hip since you met; and having that smooth, deep tone in your ear is like soaking your body in a hot bath, sloughing off the wear and dirt and grime to come out renewed and refreshed.
You nod because you know what you’ve been doing. You’ve known your choices would bring him back to you. You hoped, at least. But you also hoped he would give himself and his stalker behavior up long before you would have to call him out. He’s usually much more possessive when you spend your evenings drinking and freely dancing amongst crowds, and the thought of you flirting with other men has always put him in a sour mood. You thought seeing it up close would make his vision go red, but he's held himself back. However, you suppose him watching and following you from a distance is better than not caring to watch or follow you at all. 
“You're not being safe,” he tells you. 
“You mean I'm doing things you're not happy with.”
Simon doesn't respond to that. He can’t, because you’re absolutely right and he isn’t the type to disrespect you by lying to your face.
“You broke up with me to—what was it—‘live my life’ while you're gone? Do you really have a right to be pissed at me for getting a head start?” you ask as you take steps further into the apartment and toss your purse on the counter. “If that's the case, maybe you should've dumped me a little closer to your deployment date so you wouldn’t have to witness it.”
Now you do feel him. You see him through the mask. He’s bubbling inside, the beginning of a boil, because he made a silly choice and doesn’t like to be reminded of his mistakes. He hasn’t exactly voiced that, specifically, but it’s the truth. It was silly. It’s also the truth—though again, not specifically expressed—that he regretted it the very minute he walked away from you, leaving you in tears because he is the one afraid of what will happen when the two of you face his first deployment in your relationship. He is afraid to come back home expecting a loving welcome only to find disappointment if you’ve chosen to seek out the comfort of another man. So, ‘Don’t let me hold you back, love’’ he’d told you. ‘Live your life, and I’ll figure out what to do with myself.’
Simon groans, grumbles, vibrates the room. He begins to close the distance between you until he thinks better of it and halts beside your couch. “I did it because–”
“Do you miss me?” 
“That is not rela–”
“Do, you, miss, me,” you press.
He swallows hard, Adam’s apple protruding under the balaclava. His fist clenches at his side. You don’t think he's going to give you the satisfaction, but then he sighs and says, “Of course I fucking miss you.”
Your breath catches in your throat and your vision starts to blur at the edges. Those words heal the bits of your heart that he broke when he left.
“Then don’t be stupid,” you say, crossing the room until your chest is nearly pressed against his. You rest your hand on his cheek, or what would be his cheek if not for the mask. “Don't make us spend your last week here apart from one another.”
With another exhale, his shoulders loosen their rigidity, and in that moment you know you have him.
“Fuck me, Si,” you whisper. 
His eyes flick to yours. A flash burns through his irises.
“It'll just make it harder.” That pathetic argument betrays his actions. One of his palms instantly goes to your waist, gently tracing the curve. The gesture is so natural between you you’re not sure if he even knows he’s doing it. 
“I promise it won’t,” you say. 
Then your hands slide along his shoulders to grip his biceps and you slowly turn his body until you can push him into a seated position on the couch. He lets you lead. He lets you staddle his lap. He lets you lift the mask a few inches and connect your lips as you grind your hips down, hardening him within his pants. 
Simon’s fingers squeeze your thighs. They travel to your hips, encouraging your movements, before they continue a path up your spine. With his tongue in your mouth, you lose track of his touch for some time until he’s settled on a placement for his hands. One wrapped around your waist, hugging you tight; the other woven into your hair, holding you in place as his kisses swell your lips, verging on bruising. 
“Come on, baby,” you mutter into his ear when you break the connection to breathe. “Don’t you want to be all warm and snug inside me? Don’t you miss how well you fit? Like my pussy was made for you, right? That’s what you’ve always said.”
You know how it sounds. It’s desperate and needy, but you don’t care. You’re begging, not just for the man who sets your body aflame, but for the man who altered the trajectory of your life when he entered it. The man you refuse to live without. 
“Love–” he starts, but his groan from the nibbles you give to his neck interrupts him. 
“You can rest deep in me for a while if you want. I’ll stay perfectly still for you. Or I can go nice and slow the way you like.”
Moving your head back, you stop the shifting of your hips and lock your gazes. You pointlessly wait for him to deny you. Pointlessly because Simon Riley doesn’t deny you in situations like this. The equal balance of your need for one another has made that impossible, so it doesn’t surprise you one bit when he nods in agreement.
Your thumbs delicately guide the balaclava over his nose, but you stop there. Only he removes the mask. It’s his right; his decision to show his face and to whom. You are one of the lucky ones, but you’ve never taken advantage of that gift. 
With one hand, Simon grips the top of his mask and jerks it the rest of the way off his head—hair sticking out in a million directions—as he sneaks his other between your bodies to undo the button of his pants. He lifts his hips, bouncing you on his lap, before you do the same so he can push his pants down his thighs. 
You don’t spend time marveling at the thick column of flesh he’s pumping with his fist. You know everything about his cock. Every ridge and valley from base to tip. Every vein. Every inch of him you have memorized, and you’re too hungry to waste another second without him where you want him most.
When Simon finally slides inside of you, you hum in satisfied delight. Like basking in the heat of the sun after the chill of Winter. Like the first bite of your favorite ice cream hitting your tongue. Like quenching a thirst. Like coming home. 
Simon’s head falls back against the couch and his chest heaves with heavy inhales and exhales. His eyes are closed, but you catch a hint of a smile on his face.
“We feel so good together, Si,” you say, slowly rubbing your hand up and down his chest. “I want this when you return. Don’t you want this when you return?”
He doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
“Then why deprive yourself of what you love? Especially when what you love wants you so bad.”
He lifts his head and reaches up to brush his knuckle from your cheekbone to your chin. “I was trying to make it easier.”
Palms cupping his jaw, you run your thumb over his bottom lip. “Fuck easy.”
“Love, it’ll be a year. No less.”
“I don’t care,” you swear. You start to rise and then you sink back down onto him. “I'll be waiting for you, Simon.”
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bahrtofane · 1 month
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soapy oh soapy
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jude looses his lucky charm and looses his mind in the process
word count - 1.5K+
watch it - HAPPY ARPIL FOOLS. the most unserious fic to date ( jk theres one more coming )
p.s. -big shout out to my friends @aloejuicebr for fueling this madness u guys are real ones and even bigger shout to plooki @yayam26 for making soapy missing poster
-----
You end up forcing jude to do skin care with you after begging him for weeks because you just know you can work your magic and make him feel the best he’s ever felt. All you need is a night in. And time. Lots of time 
After some persuasion and begging, pouty lips and puppy eyes, he gives in. 
“Fine.” is all he says while you’re in his living room, legs over his watching a movie that you've long ignored in favor of bothering him. 
But you’re already giggling. Picking out a headband you want him to wear in your head. Pink care bear one it is. The night comes on a rainy day, he has a rare day off the next morning, so you want him to start it on a good note. 
You’re getting ready for bed, in your pjs, jumping about while you get your little baggie full of goodies out. 
“Here,” you hand him the headband,” put this on” pink care bear one just like you envisioned. 
He takes it, feeling the soft material while he hums, “what’s this for?”
“Keeps things out of your hair.” you smile, dragging him to his bathroom. You take about a hundred pictures, and he poses for you for each one. Giggling while you coach him into poses. You think you'll send a few to Jobe for good measure. 
You face the sink and think of a game plan. Eyeing the counter  
It’s here you first lay eyes on soapy. 
“Jude what the hell is that? "You grimace, looking at what looks like a dry stump of white something, sitting on its own little ceramic dish. 
Jude looks away, scratching the back of his neck, mumbling something under his breath. 
You swing your little kit on the sink counter, setting a hand on your hip,”what was that?” 
He sighs dramatically, putting his face in his hands,”it’s my good luck charm. soapy,” he wails. 
You snort, patting his back, “I'm sure he’s very uh lucky,” you give it a small pat. 
“No he is,” Jude brings his head up to face you, “ I know it. I've had him since before dortmund. “ he nods proudly. 
You grimace,”you’ve had a piece of soap for years?”
He only nods harder. 
“Okay jude. Whatever you say. “ 
“I am not getting rid of him,” he points a finger in your face. One that you gently move, pulling his hand into your own. 
“I didn't say get rid of him. Let’s get your skincare started, yeah?”
He nods, following you through the steps like a lost puppy. leaning down while you help him apply the creams and foams just right 
When it’s all set and done, he wiggles into bed happy as can be. Sighing deeply, “that was actually really nice. Thank you. “ 
peck! right on your nose. 
you laugh, “told you it would be nice. “ 
your next plan is to find a way to deal with soapy…
——-
Jude loses soapy. It becomes a whole fiasco. He can’t find him in the usual small little pocket in his duffel bag in the usual ziplock baggie. 
He’s frantic at his hotel, tearing his things apart, looking and relooking at the bottom of his suitcase. His jacket pockets, his pants pockets. 
He tries to think. Did he leave him in his bathroom? No. Can't be it. He remembers putting him inside the familiar zip lock baggie while getting the rest of his things ready. Where in the world did he go. 
His soapy. His poor soapy! How is he supposed to live in these conditions. He’s never. ever missed a single game without soapy. What is he supposed to do now? Loose?? There goes his good luck down the drain. Years of good performance is about to take a nosedive. 
When he’s set to do his routine face time with you pre game, you pick up on his sour mood. But he only brushes it off, blaming it on pre game nerves 
You don’t believe him, but don’t want to press
Jude pends 20 minutes locked inside the bathroom, head in his hands while he scolds himself. It’s a bar of soap he wants to scream, pull yourself together. But he can’t. Soapy has become more than just a silly little joke. He’s become attached to soapy, a part of his routine. He’d rather die than admit it out loud to anyone 
For now he sighs, smoothing his jersey down and getting ready to get on the pitch. 
——-
The only thing that’s been in his mind is getting back home and getting to the bottom of the mystery. Unfortunately for him, soapy is nowhere to be found in the bathroom. Not in the living room. The kitchen. The hallway. He thinks of hiring a cleaning team, but what is he supposed to say ? 
Oh hey guys clean my house and also be on the lookout for a dried out stick of white that looks like a finger haha. 
No. Absolutely not. 
He takes to his own devices and begins to tear apart his house in a desperate search for his beloved soapy. He spends the whole day on his hands and knees looking under places he didn’t even know his house had to begin with, squeezing under and into spaces he’s sure gonna regret tomorrow. 
It’s already dark out when he calls it quits. Nothing but a few bruises to show for it. 
He’s really lost him huh. 
——-
His behavior is soon picked up by teammates, coaches and staff. The usual cheery youthful Jude is replaced by a damp sluggish cranky one.
He’s silent at training, chewing the inside of his cheek while going through the familiar motions of each drill. 
Eduardo comes to him after they hit the showers, squeaky clean and ready to go home. 
“You good?”
Jude gives him a bashful nod, “yeah man. just a little worn out, don't worry.”
He gets a clap on the shoulder in response, and gives a tight lipped smile back. He’s gotta figure this out or it will start to affect more than just his mood. How stupid of him to let an old slice of a soap bar affect him so much. 
A little piece of him can guess why. Soapy is one of the very few stable things in his life. And perhaps the only stable physical thing. something to count on. Something to be able to rely on. Unchanging. 
But now that he’s gone and lost it ? jeez. 
——-
You show up to his house on a cloudy day, his favorite snacks under your arm. He greets you with a kiss, but you see the way his eyes droop and sag. What's wrong with your golden boy? 
He leads you to the living room where you make yourself at home. Plopping down on the couch and handing him his things. 
He takes them gingerly, setting them on the kitchen counter while he takes a seat across from you 
you frown, “Jude. What's wrong? “
He looks away, playing with his hands, knee bouncing. Okay what is going on that’s gotten him so worked up
“Baby…” you try, scooting closer to him. 
He screws his eyes shut, bawling his hands into fists, “I lost soapy,” 
oh. 
Your gaze softens, “You lost him? When?”
He sighs, cracking an eye open, when he sees you aren’t making fun of him he opens both, relaxing. 
“I don't know. when we played villareal away I couldn’t find him. Then i got back and tore this place up and still no luck.” arms falling into his lap. 
You place a hand on his knee. Gentle. Soft. 
“He couldn't have gotten far. I'm sure he’s somewhere obvious. “ 
“I guess,” he mumbles, leaning into your touch. 
You smile, letting him lean against you. He's so cute when he pouts. You like babying him anyway. The rest of the day is spent with his head in your lap while you press occasional kisses to his face, letting keeping up with the kardashians play in the background. 
When it’s time for you to leave, Jude whines, pouting and asking you to stay just a little more.
“It's already late jude, I would if I could you know that. “
He huffs, “I guess. “ 
You forgot about your bags laying on the kitchen counter, might as well put them away before you go. 
Jude gets up to help, sliding against the hardwood and meeting you in the kitchen
He grabs a chair from the island in the middle, bringing it to him and a little baggie falls from it. Is that what he thinks it is ? He picks it up faster than you can turn around and almost screams. He could cry tears of joy 
It’s soapy. 
You were right. It was right in front of him all along 
He holds up the bar for you to see and you smile, “see. told you. “
He nods, “yes you did,” kissing your lips as a thank you 
You hum, patting his head when you pull apart, “glad you found soapy.” 
Maybe soapy isn’t so bad after all. 
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pheonixgrave · 9 months
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Ignore It (18+)
This is really my first time posting a story to here, I usually only do it to AO3, but this is what I made this account for. Might as well start using it?
WARNINGS: Heavy smut, corruption kink, mild blood kink? (not sure about that one) Fem Tav, hetero relationship, stress fucking, not beta'd, angst, use of cunt
Smut blow the cut, please enjoy!!
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Trekking through the wilderness was exhausting as is. But the bickering? That was starting to drive Tav crazy. Vampire this. Shar that. Eating magic this. Demons that. It was always something else. No matter what she did, they were always at each other’s throats. Oh the irony in that. Maybe the Illithid worm wasn’t the worst thing. Maybe this, the arguing, was the worst thing to happen to her. If she had to hear any Githyanki phrases in the next thirty minutes, she might kill Lae’zel herself. Tav was at her wits end, ready to beat her head against the nearest tree just to see if that got rid of the tadpole. It would be a win-win if it also got everyone else to shut up. 
They didn’t even let up at camp. Sure, they all had their respective tents and spaces. But the glaring. Oh, the glaring! Not a moment of peace before bed. She sat near her bedroll, closer to the fire Gale had set up. A tankard in hand, her back to the more vocal members of the party. She could practically hear Lae’zel glaring at Astarion. And Shadowheart wasn't exactly quiet about her distaste for him either. It’s not like there was an Infernal being less than ten yards away from him. Or a Warlock just across the flames. 
She very quickly downed the rest of her drink before tossing the tankard near the flames. Curling up in her bedroll, she tried to block out all of the noise and barbed words. It was currently taking everything in her to not scream at her first three companions. They had all been through something insane and deadly. Why could they not have it in them to simply get along? It felt impossible. 
Fortunately, her sour mood was noticed by her party. Not that she’d realize it at the moment. The biggest point of contention, Astarion, managed to get the courage to walk up to their fearless, albeit grumpy, leader. He nudged her with his foot. Which he immediately realized was a bad decision. Taz shot up to meet his eyes in the blink of an eye. “What do you want?”
The bite in her voice was unmistakable. But he knew how to handle it. “I want-”
“Don’t bother,” she cut him off. She never cut him off. She was more than happy to let him talk at her sometimes. The final glare she gave him was intense as she stalked towards the lake, away from everybody else. Astarion watched her walk away. Did he only watch to see her hips sway? Absolutely. But that didn’t change the fact that the Bard needed to relax. He smiled to himself before following her. “Didn’t I say don’t bother? I’m not in the mood to be your midnight snack tonight.” 
He didn’t fail to match her step. “Why darling! Do you truly think so little of me?” He pouted. 
Tav just sighed, “Take your antics somewhere else for now, Astarion.”
“Will you just sit down?” He pushed on her shoulders, forcing her down.
Much to the rest of the party's dismay, she did trust the vampire. Whether that would lead her to her own doom was yet to be seen.
Her knees crumbled under the pressure as she fell on the ground. She shot another glare in his direction but that didn’t seem to dissuade him from his plan.
“You’ve been far too stressed today, darling.” He purred in her ear, his hands never leaving her shoulders. 
“Astarion?” He continued to move her body until she was on her stomach.
“Shhh, do you trust me?” Gods, that man was always far too much for Tav.
“Should I?”
He chuckled as he readjusted himself so he was sitting on the back of her thighs, straddling her. It took every ounce of self restraint he had to not immediately rub her ass. Gods, it always looked so perfect when she walked. He took a deep breath before applying pressure between her shoulder blades. He felt her body tense before slowly relaxing. 
It wasn’t what she expected. Was he giving her a massage? His hands worked slowly from the base of her neck to her waist. And-oh? Did she just moan? 
“It’s alright, my dear, I love hearing you.” He smirked before continuing his work. He continued like that for a few moments, just enjoying the little sounds she was making. “Let's get you out of these clothes, shall we?”
She pushed him off her, rolling on her back and sitting up. “So that’s what this was? Just an excuse to get me naked?” That fire was coming back.
“Darling, if I was trying to get into your pants, I’d try flattering you more first. Unfortunately, it is difficult to get this right over your clothes.” He sat next to her, staring out at the water, just watching the water crash against the coast. “I was taught how to do this a long, long time ago.”
She stared at the rogue before swallowing. The tips of her ears and the back of her neck were flushed. But she did trust him. He would say if this was untoward. Right? With a shaky breath, she sighed but said “Alright.” 
Astarion watched her shaky hands start to untie the little knots holding her bustier. His mouth started to water, but he had patience. As she shrugged the last of her tunic off, she covered her chest and turned the other way. He did manage to lay down her tunic so she wasn’t just laying on the dirt anymore. She laid herself in front of him. He could feel how shaky her breath still was as he climbed on top of her once more. 
He resumed his previous work, addressing the knots in her lower back. The elf’s skin was so soft, so warm. He found himself just getting lost in the feeling of someone trusting him. It was a strange feeling but a welcome one. 
Tav, on the other hand, was getting lost in his touch. His cold hands worked their way up her back and she liked it far more than she thought she would. What started off as little moans slowly became louder. It didn’t help that he was an expert with his hands. And her mind started to trail off to things that were unbecoming of a lady.
But Astarion could feel her thighs clench. No matter how she tried to move without him noticing too much. Gods, he could almost smell her arousal. Over 200 years old and here he was, still trying to keep himself from getting hard. But then she moaned his name. And what little restraint he had disappeared. He put his hands near her head before leaning down towards her ear. “This wasn’t an excuse to see you naked but you are making it very hard to not act on my…baser impulses, my dear.” He felt the shiver go down her spine. 
“Astarion,” she moaned again before grinding back on him. And she got what she wanted when he flipped her on her back without moving from his spot. And there she was, laid out in front of a vampire spawn with her chest bare. She looked up at him with wide eyes, unsure how to go from there. But him? He had far more experience than most. He moved faster than she thought. He captured her lips as he slotted himself between her thighs. And just like that, his hands were everywhere. 
It was like he couldn’t decide where he liked them best. Her throat? Her breasts? Her hips so he could grind against her? He just couldn’t decide. And she tried so hard to keep herself quiet. But then he moved his lips down her neck, his fangs brushing over the still healing marks from the night before. He thought about feeding for a moment, but something far more filling had his attention right now. He moved until he had her nipple in his mouth. Flicking the nub with his tongue, his hand went to massage the other one. He wasn’t gentle. No one that knew Astarion for who he was thought he was a gentle man. It was rough but Tav didn’t seem to mind. 
In fact, Tav seemed to love it. Her back arched into him. “Astarion!” And then her hands were on his shoulders, urging him downwards.
And he didn’t want to fight it. He kept moving, biting and nipping at her stomach. And then he got to her trousers. He sat up, panting and looking wild. His fangs were bared and he was panting hard. He threw her legs on his shoulders, tossing her loafers somewhere behind him. And then he went to work on the knots holding her trousers up. Which he made very quick work of. He shimmied them off her, making sure to keep her underwear on for a moment. He stripped off his shirt before returning to her mouth. 
He needed her. 
“Astarion, please, touch me.”
He was quick to snake his hand towards her cunt. And even quicker to find the spot that made her gasp into his mouth. Gods, he could do this forever. He made his way back to her neck, lapping over those same marks. Her hand tangled itself into his hair and the other gripped his shoulder with far more strength than he expected. His cold hands were a sharp contrast to the warmth of her. Her head was thrown back against the ground as she gasped for air. She was shaking. 
It was already so much for her. She had been so pent up and so angry. But the way he worked her clit? It was a way no one ever had before. Not even herself. In fact, no one had ever touched her like this before. Nothing past shy kisses or heady glances. If she had known, maybe she would have lived her life a little differently. 
But once her back arched and she cried out his name? She clenched around nothing. She felt so empty now and he hadn’t even gotten close yet. He chuckled as best he could, “Already, darling?” he muttered against her neck.
“I-” she gasped once he slid a finger inside her. “Astarion,” his name rolled off her tongue and he swore he wouldn’t mind hearing her do this forever. He could still feel her cunt clench around his fingers and he groaned. He couldn’t wait much longer but she was enjoying herself. “I’ve never-” he curled his finger before adding a second one. 
“You’ve never felt this good before?”
“Done this before,” she managed to gasp out before he curled his fingers again. 
His hands stalled for a moment and she whined. “I’m to be your first?” She nodded, wriggling her hips, trying to will him to move again. “My dear, why didn’t you say anything?” He removed his fingers and she cried out. “Shhh, I have to make a good first impression, don’t I?”
He practically ripped her underwear off. She was a virgin. He couldn’t lie that it made him even harder to think about being the only one who got to touch her. But he had to take care of her if he wanted to be the only one.
He buried his face in her cunt, holding her thighs open with his hands. Tav covered her mouth to hide her cries of his name. But it was his name on her lips. His fingers going right back inside her, where they belonged. His lips on her clit. He groaned again when she came, this time right on his face and hands. He lapped at her for a moment longer and started pistoning his fingers in and out. He couldn’t help but watch her cum make a mess of his fingers. 
“Astarion!” She cried as she came on his fingers yet again. “Please!”
“Please what, my dear?” He wiped her juices off his chin before closing the distance between them. His lips hovered over hers, those red eyes glazed over with a hunger. Her eyes fluttered open. She smiled at him, all too happy to offer herself to him. She bared her neck. And dive he did. His fangs pierced her neck once again as he drank. He knew better than to drink more than his share but he wanted nothing more than to keep drinking as she wrapped her bare legs around his waist and rubbed her cunt against the fabric of his trousers. He released her neck and practically shredded what was left of his clothing. 
He leaned back for a moment, taking in the sight. This elf, a noble from Waterdeep, was laid out before him. Freckles dotting her skin and her blonde hair spread out like a halo before him. It would be angelic if not for the blood slowly trickling out of her neck. “Astarion,” she whispered. Her voice was full of something he couldn’t quite place. Something he had pushed aside a long time ago. 
All he could do was nod before he lined himself up to her. As he slowly slid in, he swore that this was the closest he could get to heaven. 
Astarion wasn’t small. Tav could feel his cock stretching her cunt out. Why did no one ever tell her it could feel like this? She gripped his shoulders and wrapped her legs around him once more. She sighed as he finally finished. “Gods above, you’re amazing.” She whispered, almost too afraid to say it. Too afraid to say the other things on the tip of her tongue. Her eyes traveled down his body to where they were connected before looking back up at him. 
“Shit,” he panted, withholding every emotion that came flooding through him. Instead, he snaked a hand underneath her thigh, lifting it up before he began to thrust.
She thought just having her inside him felt amazing. But this angle had her barely able to breath. She threw her head back and arched into his body. It was all she could do to hold on to him as he upped his pace. Tav could barely gasp out his name as she tried to look at him. His eyes were shut and his hair was more than perfectly tousled. “Beautiful,” was all she could get out before she tightened around his cock. 
“Shit!” He followed closely behind her, seemingly unexpectedly. They laid there for a moment, just feeling each other before he slipped out of her. She cried, a palpable sense of emptiness. He watched her breath for a few moments longer, secretly enjoying his cum starting to drip out of her cunt. Normally, he’d leave. He’d get up, put his clothes back together and leave. But Tav? Something told him he couldn’t. So he grabbed his tunic and wrapped her in it before carrying her to the water. 
He tried not to notice her nuzzling his neck. He tried to ignore the praises she said. He tried desperately to ignore the draw she had on him. He tried to ignore her moan as he set her in the shallow water, gently taking his tunic off her shoulders. Instead, he sat next to her and let the water wash away the previous activities. 
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hikari3601 · 11 months
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We’ll be a Fine Line
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Pairing | Al Haitham x Reader
Author’s Note | I’m really sorry for the super long wait.
CW/TW | Al Haitham’s mean :(
Synopsis | Flinching away from him during an argument.
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The line between distance and disregard is a fine one, something that Al Haitham seemed to have overlooked. The Scribe -who lives off of rationality as if it were air, found that space seemed to be the most efficient means towards a peaceful resolution during conflict, yet it all turned sour somewhere down the line and worst of all, its toxicity was so steadily progressive that it only became noticeable when it was nigh impossible to ignore it.
Several arguments had passed without any form of resolution and with every person in the Academia five seconds away from an aneurysm, as Acting Grand, Sage Al Haitham was not in the best of moods.
~~
“Haitham.” You called from behind the door, patiently waiting with his lunch in hand, yet silence was all that ensued in the following moments, thus you called again, a little louder this time…still nothing.
Deciding to try your luck at entering you turned the handle, perhaps he had an errand to run and was out for a bit, you thought.
Fortunately, the door was unlocked, and lo and behold sat Al Haitham at his desk, hair slightly tousled and his cape laying on the couch. He looked up at you questioningly. “Can I help you Y/N?”
“I knocked to see if you were in.” You explained, “I guess you didn’t hear me.”
He remained unmoving for several seconds, his eyes trained on the papers in front of him and after he placed the page down he allowed his gaze to briefly flicker towards you. “I heard it.”
Taking a few steps towards into the office, you took note of the cold atmosphere surrounding him but decided against commenting. “Why didn’t you answer?” You asked instead, placing his favourite meal on his desk.
“I was busy.” He deadpanned, eyes glued on the new page in front of him.
Your gaze drifted across his large frame, “When was the last time you slept?” You inquired, noting the dark circles on the skin surrounding his turquoise eyes.
“I took a little nap some few hours ago.”
A frown took form on your lips. “A nap in your office doesn’t count. When was the last time you got over five hours of sleep in your bed.” You urged, your frustration growing at his dismissive attitude.
He sighed, laying his papers on his desk with a loud ‘slap’ and looking up at you with a slight glare. “What is it you came for Y/N, unlike you I’m busy.”
“I’m here to check up on you Al Haitham.” You felt your aggravation grow in spite of your efforts to remain level-headed. “You’ve been working non stop and I’m worried about you.”
“Well, as you can see Y/N I’m perfectly well. Now, if you would kindly leave my office—“
“Why are you being like this?” You finally sighed, your patience beginning to waver.
“Because I have work to do. I don’t have time to laze around with you.”
“Laze around with me?” You echoed. “I may not be the Acting Grand Sage, Al Haitham, but that doesn’t mean I’m not working. I stop what I’m doing every day just to see if you’re alright…because Archons know that if I don’t, you’d be skipping meals daily!”
“I’m not some child Y/N, I don’t need you to look after me, now if you would please leave my office, I’m wasting time with this discussion.”
“How on earth do you think it’s right to treat people like this?” You snapped, the festering heat in your chest reaching its peak. “I’m worried about you because I care!”
“If you really cared…” He rose from his seat, approaching you with a steadiness that left you uneasy. “you would have left Y/N instead of wasting my time!”
His last words echoed throughout the room, but what was truly deafening to the man was your reaction —the way you stepped away from him as if preparing to flee.
Groaning at his actions, he lifted a hand to his already dishevelled hair in a poor attempt to calm his racing mind but watched in horror as you flinched.
Disgust soon washed over him like a tidal wave.
You thought he would hurt you?
Archons, he did hurt you… though not physically. It dawned on him that he had been treating you abrasively for the last few months, yet you still remained nothing short of kind and patient towards him.
He didn’t deserve you, he thought, yet a part of him selfishly feared that you’d leave him after today.
“I’m sorry.” He sighed, and although his voice had grown soft, his eyes trembled with unspoken words of guilt and regret, the sight stubbornly pulling at your heart until you bridged the gap between the two of you and quietly took him into your arms.
He hesitated to reciprocate, worried that he’d cause you more alarm, but all it took was you tightening your hold around his torso for him to wrap his arms around you, settling his head against the crook of your neck.
“I didn’t mean it, I swear. I’m sorry.”
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tteokdoroki · 11 months
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nagis the type of bf to be jealous if a mosquito bit ur tit
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so true he’s so possessive and it’s so cute. he’d be cuddling up to you in bed one night, running his hands up your shirt to soothe himself. nagi likes to sleep on your chest or your tummy cause you’re warm, kissing at the flesh he exposes cause he likes to hear you giggle and sigh happily. makes his head all tingly but in a good way.
then his hand sort of smooths over the bump where you’ve been bitten by a mosquito and his mood instantly sours bc… why has something else bitten you in his favourite spot. like that’s nagi’s favourite place.
he’d try to play it cool at first, probably squeezing your boobs or massaging them cause he’s always playing with your chest for comfort and then after a while (when you don’t ask him what’s up) he speaks up. “pretty thing, what’s that?” he’d ask you quietly, teething at the fabric of your shirt.
“what’s what, seishiro?”
“this.” nagi is such a troll, he’d like pinch the healing bite just to make you hiss and finally pay attention to him. “it looks like a hickey. you seein’ other guys, got other boyfriends b’sides me?” soooo annoying, and whiny istg. “‘m supposed to be the only one giving you hickeys.”
“sei, that’s a bug bite.” you swat at him and he’s still whining and complaining, rolling around in your lap like it’s the end of the world. “you’re my only boyfriend, stupid.”
“so mean to me,” after that he’d push up your shirt a little bit more despite your protests or how flustered you are and just… start sucking on the underside of your boob to give you a bigger bruise/mark compared to the bite — he’s so possessive and jealous he wants to be the only one leaving marks on you. “thas’ better. ‘m the only one allowed to mark you up here. kay, angel.”
“o-okay, sei.”
but he doesn’t stop there, nagi doesn’t stop until your entire chest is covered in his love bites <3
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