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satorisoup · 3 months

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ᰔ A KISS FOR A KISS ft. kenma kozume

ʚ CW : first kisses. sfw.

ʚ hq valentine’s series mlist ಇ

it’s valentine’s day, a holiday for the celebration of love, and today your boyfriend only had one thing in mind.

he was going to kiss you.

it has been almost 8 months since you and kenma kozume had become official, and you still have yet to get to first base. kenma curses himself for the awkward timid personality he was given since birth, as it really would not come in handy when it came to the physical part of a relationship.

kenma never would have thought he would be the one wanting to initiate a kiss with you, but at this point, he really couldn’t help it. every time your hands would come to stroke his hair with that sweet, small smile on your face, or the hugs you would envelope him in whenever you had him in your sight, even the nervous blush on your cheeks when you would lace your fingers with his, all of it had him in a battle with his own desires, to just lean in and leave a little peck on the soft lips that adorned your lovely face. but no, it never seemed like the right time, or the right place, it just didn’t feel in character for him to do that out of the blue.

today, this changes. february 14th, kenma was going to kiss you before the sun set to bring another day. and he swore, he would die before he allowed himself to wimp out again. there’s no room for shyness.

the first half of school had rolled around, and kenma had surprisingly held your hand in the halls, which was more-so unlike him given how usually uncomfortable he is with pda. you shook it off though, given it was an important holiday for you two, and perhaps he just wanted to make it all the more special, to which you were extremely grateful.

no, this wouldn’t be the time to kiss you. it was too early in the day. he should wait until it’s less crowded and he’s more prepared.

kenma waved at you when you had walked into your class, a soft mumble of “see you at lunch.” you smile and hold a thumbs up before you make your way to your seat, kenma walking off to his own classroom.

eventually lunchtime had come, and you both sat in a nice corner of the courtyard, pretty pink lunchbox with yummy foods sprawled out in front of you. you gingerly chewed on the small heart shaped sandwiches you had packed, and kenma ate along with you, hardly audible hums in appreciation while munched on one himself.

“do you like it, kenma? the heart cutters made them so much cuter!”

he nodded his head while he shortly answered, “yeah, they’re good.”.

well, he couldn’t kiss you now. you were both eating lunch, and that would be kind of gross for you to get the taste of mayonnaise after a kiss.

kenma’s procrastination eventually led to the school day ending, and he wants to punch himself in the gut for not taking the opportunities he had, wussing out for who knows how many times. you meet up with kenma by the school gates, voice cheery as you tell him how excited you were to spend time with him. you’re smiling, and kenma has the slightest hint of pink on the tips of his ears as he listens to you talk. though, he isn’t particularly paying attention to what your saying, but rather staring at your lips as if they’re holding the universe themselves.

there’s a brisk, cold breeze but the sun is shining like no other today. the walk along the path to kenma’s home is lit with golden yellow hues that beat down from the sky as the sun begins to slowly decend from the horizon. beams of light frame your face, voice blurred from his pure focus and kenma thinks that he might be living in a movie while he watches you, then your lips, you, and your lips again.

would now be a good time? there’s no one around. would you say yes? maybe you would run away. what if you got freaked out? how should he say it? should he just go all in and skip the romantics? no, it needs to be special. maybe he should wait-

no. he’s put this off for far too long. 8 months too long. and as his teammates would say, no matter how much he despised the word in its entirety, he needed to use some guts.

kenma starts to gather every ounce of backbone he possibly could have in his body, he had to do it now and there was no wimping out this time. he had a mission, and he was determined to actually accomplish it. he’s prepared enough, he thinks, when he turns to you to speak up for once in his quiet life.

“can i-“

“kenma, would you like some candy?”

he was hushed before he could get a full syllable out, putting a pause on his impulses to bob his head yes.

kenma observes you while you’re rummaging through your schoolbag, reaching in to a small pocket before pulling out a piece of hershey’s cherry kiss chocolate. your hand stretches out towards his opened one, and before you drop it into his awaiting palm, you pull back.

“well, you can have this candy, but on one condition… im offering you a trade!” you announce.

“uh… what is it?” kenma asks you, voice low and tone a hint of confusion.

your hand unravels once again to reveal the small chocolate kiss in the crevices of your hand, making a show of the small treat.

“a kiss…” you pause, and kenma can feel the anticipation build up within him while he waits for you to finish your offer.

“for a kiss.” you point at your lips with your index finger.

kenma can feel his insides combust into a million pieces, his calm, collected demeanor is slightly faltered with the way his eyes widen, dumbfounded while his heart beat quickens to a rapid pace.

he looks at you in silence, admiring the red blush on your face that’s so obvious, you could camouflage with a garden of tomatoes. you’re nervous, and even so, you’re smiling at him with that same precious grin, and the same pretty, pink lips that have practically screaming “kiss me!” in his ears all day.

“okay.”

before you’re able to register kenma’s compliance to your trade, he’s unable to keep himself back anymore. his hand awkwardly grabs hold of your wrist, candy dropped to the floor when he collides his lips with yours. they’re soft and cherried in flavor, he deems, reveling in the feeling he’s been waiting to experience for what seems like forever. he holds the small kiss for a few seconds, before he’s slowly pulling away. gone were the previous cowardly attempts and failed opportunities, because kenma finally finds the guts this time to ask,

“can i have another?”

and kenma knows, kuroo was never going to let him live this down.

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ajokeformur-ray · 6 months

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The breeze seems to whisper 'I love you' // Astarion x gn!reader / Tav

This is my first Astarion fic so I really hope I bring him justice; he deserves that and everything else which is good in life. It took me three days in total to fall head over heels for him, and this piece is dedicated to @ace-tarion for being such a sweetheart in this, as in everything. I love you, dude!❤️

I haven't played BG3, I know maybe 80% of the plot (tadpoles in brain = bad = travel to Baldur's Gate), I've watched a ton of Astarion clips, so apologies for any inaccuracies or inconsistencies. I'm just here for Astarion (though I'd love to play BG3, I don't have any technology capable of running it💔).

Content: You/Tav x Astarion (established relationship), canonical past for Astarion is hinted at and laced within narrative, cuddles, animals referred to as 'snacks' within mentions of Astarion (only a mention; no actual description of animal-feeding/mentions of anything pertaining to animals being fed on).

Summary: Night-time falls, your heart sinks into your stomach as surely as your body sinks into your bedroll, and you want cuddles from Astarion.

Word count: 1, 624.

I am accepting requests for Astarion ❤️ no smut and no pregnancy/birth/kids!!

You lay on the cold, hard ground. The earth is unforgiving, soaking up the day's sweat without offering any kind of reprieve. Stones and hard clumps of dirt dig into your back through the bedroll, the wind is slightly too cold and it penetrates your thin blanket, haphazardly thrown over you in an attempt to ward off the elements.

Everyone has a tent, except you, and you make it a point to lay as close to the fire as you can on the nights Astarion is out hunting; it wouldn't do to help yourself to his tent. He keeps his tent away from the others, though still adhering to the semi-circle layout chosen by the others around the campfire. He would not mind you letting yourself in to his tent, he would likely welcome returning to you there, and yet you cannot justify it even to yourself.

After two hundred years of shit, pure shit, he deserves every ounce of privacy and the security of knowing his tent is his own.

You sit up just enough to shuffle yourself closer to the fire, curling inwards as a shiver wracks your body. It isn't cold, necessarily, but your temperature is not conducive to a restful sleep. You lay on your back, gazing up at the stars which punctuate the sky, breaking up the inky black and blues with pinpricks of white, yellow, and some dull spots of grey from the stars which died many eons ago and are now fading from the sky.

You promise yourself you'll try to remember their placement in the sky.

Despite the best of intentions, you know that you won't.

Your vision goes blurry at the edges as you continue staring up at the night sky, looking for any constellations you recognise by way of finding yourself a bedtime story to recount as you try to fall asleep. The leaves on the trees sway gently in the breeze, and your mind wanders, as it so often does, to Astarion. Your sweet vampire, who simultaneously breaks your heart and put it back together in the same moment every time you uncover more of who he is, more of his past.

Oh, but you love him.

Of its own accord does your body take a long, deep breath in, your heart sinking into your stomach as surely as your body melts into the bedroll. All of your thoughts of Astarion and all of your feelings for him are safe inside yourself, and they serve you now in warming you from the inside out.

Your eyes slide closed, and if you press your forehead closer into your blanket, you can almost tell yourself that you can feel Astarion lying down beside you, you can smell bergamot and feel his silver hair tickle your cheeks, you can feel his fingers intertwined with yours, your legs tangled together, his crimson eyes upon your face so intently fixed like he's scared to blink in case you disappear before his eyes, leaving him clutching only the cold night air, his equally cold body pressed against every line of yours...

You smile to yourself and burrow deeper into your blanket, feeling sleepier, warmer and closer to your rest by the second. Thoughts of Astarion flood your mind and you curl up tighter, as if to keep all these thoughts right where they are. You know if you open your eyes that you'll be alone; you know not where Astarion is this night, but you know he is trying to sate his hunger with the snacks which live in the forest.

So you keep your eyes shut.

As you allow yourself to slip further into your threshold consciousness, you wonder what Astarion would say to you if he returned at this very moment...

"Hello, sweet. Gods, you are beautiful."

You smile again and squeeze your blanket ever tighter to you. Yes, he would probably say something like -

Wait.

Was that - ?

With great caution do you open your eyes, ready to slam them shut again once you see that Astarion isn't there, that he didn't just speak to you. But instead of the cold hard truth slamming into you, flowers bloom in your heart because Astarion is here, looming over you, his silver curls seeming to be glowing in the soft moonlight. His crimson eyes seem black, his charming smirk soft at the edges as he gazes down at you with obvious fondness, vulnerable such as it is.

Of all the stars above me, this one's the prettiest, you think to yourself, and you open your eyes wider to better enjoy the view.

Astarion's smirk melts until it becomes a smile as he kneels down beside you, one of his arms reaching out to brush a leaf away from your face. His fingers ghost across your skin, and you shiver. "Thank you, darling. I know I'm beautiful. Not enough people mention it." His joke fades into vulnerability, as it so often does around you.

But it is no matter. You always meet him where he is, and right now it is no exception.

You smile at Astarion, all of the love for him shining in your eyes until they look like molten galaxies, and he swears he feels his heart, which stopped working centuries ago, skip a beat. You are unguarded where you lay in your threshold consciousness, not embarrassed to have spoke aloud your thoughts, and Astarion wonders if the old saying, that love makes fools of people, is true. You lay at the foot of a vampire, at the foot of a predator, smiling at him, physically and emotionally vulnerable, completely unguarded. Most others at the camp are asleep, Astarion can hear, and yet here you are...

Wait. Why are you awake?

"Darling," Astarion's voice is a hush and you strain your ears to be able to hear him. He bends closer to you to accommodate, anticipating your needs before you fully register them yourself, "Why aren't you sleeping? No harm shall befall you when I'm here." Long ago, he had sought your protection, but now he wanted you both to be safe. If this is how the mighty fall, then Astarion must admit that he is happy he lost his balance. He quite likes the view from down here.

You shake your head and shuffle closer still, unable to get close enough to your most beloved vampire. "Can't sleep without you." I just want to be held.

Oh, help him, but this is devastating in its simplicity. His undead heart bleeds and words have brought Astarion to the point where they run dry. Instead, he stands, and reaches a hand out to you. The message is clear - he wants you to accompany him to his tent, he wants to carve a piece of heaven out with you amongst all the chaos unleashed, he wants to hold and to be held.

Astarion just wants you, and who are you to deny him?

One of your hands slips into his while the other pulls the blanket away from you and Astarion's smile widens as he effortlessly pulls you up to stand beside him. You bend to scoop up your bedroll, and follow Astarion into your tent. The door flap flutters in the wind as Astarion releases it, and it settles in place like a butterfly finding a flower.

You find yourselves easily, your bedroll dumped next to Astarion's, pushed up close until his bedroll becomes a double. It's a well established routine for the two of you, with you spending more nights here than you don't. You never enter his tent if he isn't here, and you certainly never come in without his permission. One day, Astarion will find the words to convey his appreciation for your concern, but until then, he will remind you at every chance he finds that you are always welcome. He finds it greatly ironic that you seek permission to enter space and he, a vampire, does not. He knows he is welcome, wanted, cherished, loved.

It took some work for the both of you to get here, but his months with you are the counterweight to the hell he escaped from.

He'll never be able to thank you enough, he has no idea what he is doing, but perhaps this is a start.

Somehow, through the fuzziness of denied sleep, you end up back in bed, your blanket around you and Astarion's still chest under your head. He lays beneath you like he is patiently waiting for you to make yourself comfortable, and you take the opportunity to wind both of your arms around his waist and squeeze, pulling yourself up just enough to be able to bury your face in his neck. One of your legs slips between his, anchoring the two of you together.

Slowly, like he's afraid to move too quickly in case you disappear within his grasp and leave Astarion holding nothing but the cold empty night air, his hands settle upon your back and a sigh which seems to come from deep within him spells peace for the both of you. "This is nice," Astarion's voice rumbles through your ear and you press yourself ever closer to him, unable to get close enough. Your arms constrict around him again and you feel yourself smile as all those sleepy dreams you were having earlier are now here, beneath you, wrapped around you. As you hold on tighter, so too does Astarion, until the two of you are so completely intertwined that the elements cannot reach you. He has no body temperature and yet you are the comfiest and the warmest you have ever been.

Safe.

This time, Astarion doesn't tell you that you accidentally spoke your thoughts aloud.

#astarion x reader #astarion #baldurs gate 3 astarion #baldurs gate 3 x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion comfort #astarion fluff #bg3 x reader #bg3

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moonlitdesertdreams · 9 months

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Downed

A/N: I got the cut scene of Astarion imitating Halsin in the middle of drafting a drabble, and this is the result. Please enjoy. Tags: Baldur's Gate 3, Astarion x Tav, Astarion x OC, Astarion x Half-drow!Reader, gender neutral reader, BG3, TDU!Reader, BG3 Astarion WARNINGS: hallucinations, canon-typical violence. Summary: You get hit by a fear spell while in the Underdark and hallucinate shadows in anticipation of fighting the Shadow Curse, Astarion is angry and it's all Halsin's fault. Apparently.

Word count: 1.6k+

(GIF Credit to @iplann)

All Astarion remembered was seeing you go down.

It was an ambush by two rogue Duergar as you crept through the Underdark. Originally, the pair of you had been on an unimportant quest for you to retrieve some bioluminescent mushrooms to make lanterns; Astarion doesn’t understand the appeal but is also unable to say no to any of your requests.

He regrets being a pushover at that moment, as it’s landed you both in this one.

After you fell, he had lunged across the field and sunk his teeth into the neck of the Duergar casting spells. He refuses to provide the sorcerer a painless death by draining, instead tearing at the flesh with his teeth. A sick gurgling echoes through the grassy hollow you’d been attacked in, and Astarion releases the dwarf. He stumbles for a moment, clutching at the missing area of flesh on his neck before falling face first into the grass.

The other blue-skinned creature freezes at the realization they're fighting a vampire, and Astarion wastes exactly zero time thrusting a rapier directly into her heart.

The vampire instantly changes pace from attack to healing as he dashes towards you and leaves the bodies behind. You’re laid out a few metres away, curled into the fetal position and muttering nonsensical words into the humid air. A putrid green film coats your armor, and Astarion wrinkles his nose at the spell.

“Tav, can you hear me?”

Your eyes find him, familiar but distant and darting about all over the cavern. Astarion recognizes the after effects of a Fear spell, and the Ray of Sickness’ grotesque slime. He was fairly certain the sorcerer had struck you with a bout of sickness while you were paralyzed by fear, hallucinating figures of great evil and unstoppable power.

“...’starion?”

“Fortunately for you, yes.” He quips, trying not to let his voice quiver. “If only I was a Cleric.”

Your eyes search his face, landing quickly on his mouth. Astarion freezes as you tense. “V-Vampire.”

His first instinct is to frown, concealing his fangs from your warped mental state. “All the better to keep you safe. Now come on, we need to make haste back to camp so our resident Cleric-”

You clutch at his collar, a wheeze escaping you. Your frenzied eyes have moved away from his fangs to something in the distance, apparently deciding he was less of a threat. “It’s coming. ‘Starion, please, please, get me out of here.”

Astarion recognizes the delusional panic lacing your voice and chooses to hush you softly instead of turning around. He’s determined not to feed the plague gnawing at your mind, and not to let it invade his. You’re the first thing that’s motivated him, loved him for two centuries and he is terrified to see you in such a state. Every other wound has been bandaged or healed shortly thereafter by Shadowheart, but this is different. He couldn’t cover this with gauze, and nothing in his repertoire includes healing of the mind. Rest and comfort will be the best cure for you.

“It’s a spell, darling.” He coaxes you into looking back at him. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

There’s no stopping the feral gleam in your gaze and Astarion knows you need to get somewhere safe to rest, to be rid of this ailment. He ignores the stink of your gear and scoops you into his arms, immediately angered by the tremors wracking your body. Your arms wrap tight around his statuesque neck and shoulders.

“They’re everywhere.” You whimper into his collar, pointing towards the Duergar’s bodies.

Curiosity gets the best of him. “What’s everywhere?”

“The sh-shadows.” You manage, fingers swiping through half-dried blood on his face. “They’re coming.”

Astarion curses Halsin under his breath. The camp’s talks of making it through the Shadow-Cursed lands had been a hot topic as of late, brought to them by Halsin’s tales of suffocating darkness and misery. It was true you had to navigate through them, but Astarion had his own qualms with wasting their time trying to fix it in order to please the Druid. Especially since said Druid had been eyeing you up as if he were starving each time you saunter across camp.

“There’s too many of your glowing mushrooms here to be any threatening shadows, dear.”

Astarion trudges further into the hollow, finding a small secluded cove to one side. It’s as if the Gods were anticipating someone making a camp out of it - the small opening is no more than a metre wide, and damp lichen hangs in wisps from overhead. Fungi of numerous colors and brightness glow around you both, and there’s a moment of worry that they've stumbled into a transportation circle. The last thing he needs is to be unwittingly thrust to the surface in the Hag’s putrid swamp or a Gnoll’s den. A few fleeting taps with his toes stir no magic in the foliage, and Astarion feels comfortable enough to set you down.

He digs through both your backpacks for supplies, coming up with two bedrolls and enough wood to stack for a half-ass campfire. It takes only a couple minutes to get your outer layer of clothes off and your body settled on a bedroll before Astarion moves onto the fire.

Dancing flames have your rapt attention when they spring up from the wood. “No shadows.”

The child-like tone you carry in your confusion tugs at Astarion’s dead heart. “Correct, my sweet. No shadows here. Just a vampire and a very, very confused monk.”

You seem to settle in between bouts of coughing. Astarion sheds his armor to lessen the smell of sickness and looks through his pack once again, coming up empty for any elixir to remedy your fear. He instead stands to peek out of your makeshift camp, confident that as you settle your condition may improve.

“N-No!” You burst out into a fit as the vampire moves away, one hand clutching his boot. “You can’t leave me here.”

Any intention of looking out is forgotten as you begin to cry. Astarion hushes you like a scared animal, pulling the bed rolls together and joining you on the floor. He indulges you in a rare moment of gentility, pulling you into his side and whispering into your hair. These moments back at camp are rare, saved for when your mates are asleep or out of sight.

It isn’t until you pull away from the crook of his neck that he notices your eyes are sharper, no longer darting about or hazed over with artificial fear. Despite this, tears still leak from them.

“Tav? Are you all right?”

You sniff softly. “I’m so tired, Astarion. And I feel terrified… like something’s watching me. But something in me knows it’s not real.”

He nods, tongue running along his fangs. “Damned sorcerer that ambushed us struck you with a Fear spell.”

“I had a dream that we were near Moonrise Towers.” You flounder for a moment, “There were shadows everywhere.”

“Not a dream, I’m afraid. More a hallucination than anything.” Astarion explains, “A real drag to bring along after the fight, you were.”

His teasing is welcome, chasing away the worst tendrils of darkness licking at your mind. “Cheeky… But I’ve never taken the blow from a Fear spell before. This is awful.”

Astarion can tell your mind is still fearful despite breaking through the confusion, parasite reaching out to his in flashes of white hot panic and terror. Your heart is racing, the ever-so-tempting vein in your neck throbbing in sync. It’s a juxtaposition against your determined face, trying so hard to remain strong.

“Afraid so… I’ll be speaking with Halsin about his persistence in this shadow curse solution. No need for it to plague you like this. Especially seeing as we haven’t even trudged our way through the Underdark yet.” Astarion’s voice is sharp and surprisingly protective.

“Astarion, I do feel obligated-”

“You should feel obligated to do nothing. You already play peacemaker for these morons, no need for them to dump all their hopes and dreams on you. Especially when your mind uses them to terrify you.”

A weak chuckle escapes you, and your fingers toy with the fabric of his undershirt. “I think the effects of the spell were to blame for my terror.”

“The effects of the spell are determined by the worries in your mind. In other words, the man of the forest can take them all elsewhere.”

You snort at his distaste towards Halsin, as it’s not the first time you’ve noticed.

A particularly loud drip of water somewhere in the hollow causes you to jolt into Astarion, adrenaline still coursing like fire through your body. “Gods. How long am I going to feel like a mouse?”

Astarion grips you a little tighter, “Until you rest, most likely.”

“Are you going to meditate?” You ask, curling into his side.

“I’ll be keeping watch. You need to sleep. Heal your mind from this wretched curse.” Astarion’s words are a little too aggressive, his own nervous mind still concerned for your wellbeing above all else.

You’re familiar with the tone, and can only smile softly at the vampire’s inability to express concern without placing blame. Perhaps all this talk of a Shadow Curse had caused you to be plagued by such figures in the depths of the spell, but you don’t place blame on Halsin.

Though, you were certain Astarion would never see it that way.

He’s taken a moment to relax now, laying on his back with an arm behind his head. You’re curled into his side, one leg hooked over his. Astarion’s other hand traces patterns onto yours, lazy circles that lull your mind into a quiet sense of security. The terror subsides ever so slowly, intensity halved while lying in his arms.

“Astarion?”

“Hm?”

“I’m okay, you know.”

A huff answers, and a brief rush of words. “I’m still blaming the Druid.”

“Of course you are.”

_______________________________________

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#Baldur's Gate 3 #Astarion x Tav #Astarion x OC #Astarion x Half-drow!Reader #Astarion x You #gender neutral reader #BG3 #TDU!Reader #Astarion #BG3 Astarion #bg3 astarion x you #astarion ancunin #shadowheart #underdark #duergar #halsin #dnd druid #bg3 halsin #bg3 romance

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kizoken · 8 days

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𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐀𝐘

𝐆.𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

✶ angst ; mentions of murder and violence , royalty au , knight!satoru, princess!fem!reader , slight geto x reader , mentions of miscarriage , smut(?) , secret romance/affair , inspired by 'la mentira' by luis miguel (and half of his discography as well😭) .

✶ word count ; 3.6 k

✶ requested by ; @satoruwiki !

✶ SORRY FOR THE LONG WAITTTT! i didnt like the first installment of this and then i thought of this idea, anyways i hope you like it kyo bella m.list

the night air was chilly, its winds brushing through the imperial gardens flora and lowering the ambiance temperature. though you would not fret, the cozy coat of your beloved knight draped over your figure with its sole purpose to shield you from any unwanted discomfort.

the waxing moon glistened in the moving pond's reflection, and the marble bench secured your position as you enjoyed the quiet. though you did not feel truly complete, "you can sit beside me, you know?"

"dire consequences will follow if we were ever to be discovered being too close, princess. especially in your father's palace."

"satoru, you're no fun!" while on duty, his goofy and bright personality dissipated. he did his job properly, oh but when you two were alone in your room, drinking tea, reading in the terrace, or in your personal garden; your beloved knight became the sweetest, most cheeky man you have interacted with to date.

"well, i guess we will just have to leave this place if i want your affection. hmm?" as you stand up, you extend your hand for gojo to take. even if he executes his job as your escort flawlessly, there are cracks in his righteous behavior. his pearly white teeth glistened from the wide smile he gave you while tenderly taking your gloved hand in his rough ones. you giggle while he twirls you away from the sitting area in the garden.

the walk back home was pleasant, walking alongside your beloved, almost hand in hand, was a precious moment to you. there were moments in the daytime where the two of you separated, so you would catch up on one another on whatever was of interest that the other did not witness.

"your beloved duke came to see me— well you, but you were not on my side, so i delighted him with my company so his time would not be wasted."

"my beloved duke?" gojo asked.

"such a close friend as suguru surely is a beloved one, even if he looks out for you to spar and beat you with a stick more than anything."

"no wonder, and we do not fight with sticks." he said while stopping in his tracks. the metal creaking of your estate's gates signaled your arrival home.

"shall we?" gojo's toned and calloused right hand extended forward, your soft, delicate hand rested on his with eagerness.

inside your room, you sat across a golden vanity with a wide mirror. with a candlelight you traversed around your hair, adjusting some strands that poked out of place. though it was not the end of the night, even if it was too late, your window busted open. howling winds pushed the laced curtains around. the white-haired man, your knight, your love, came in the room with feathering ease.

"satoru!"

"my love!" his blue, sparkling eyes took your frame in a white nightgown. he could not handle such cuteness, running up to you and taking you by the waist. he placed his lips, which were owned by you, on your plump ones.

gojo began to caress every inch of your covered back, grasping and wiring in the memory of your warm body. he was not alone in the need to explore a foreign body. only in these types of moments, secluded and in the dark could you relish in his embrace. just as it should be.

your knight was not reluctant into breaking the passionate kiss you were both sharing, as he still pecked around your lips while backing his step until dragging you to fall on your wide, luxurious bed.

"sleep with me," he whispered, as if scared his desires would be found out. you gasped by his bold tongue, "yes, even before marriage..." he joked as usual.

"let me stay by your side tonight." laying on top of him, there was nothing in the known world that could wipe your smile.

"come on," you tugged at the strings on his silk shirt, "i'll give you the softest pillow... just for today!"

the young knight snickered while trailing behind you, "well your royal highness, i am flattered by such generosity—ack!"

"shhhhh," you gestured, though the precaution you feigned was no mask for the grin you held while doing so. both your laughter subsided, finally being wrapped up with one another in the sheets. wishing that moments like these lasted forever.

fine crafted metal crashed into one another with unmatched strength. causing sharp noises and tiny metal shards to fly, "the more you hang out with the princess, the more chance of being the victor i am... keep it up!"

the esteemed knight never had his grip on the sword falter as he charged towards his rival, duke, and friend, "keep on dreaming your grace!"

gojo was swift in his moves, taking the offense more than defense. he was not going to be won over and kneel because of his friend. he had to fight for his position, his honor, and most importantly, your praise. with this fantasy running around in his mind, he became quick on his feet and light on his swings.

swiftly backing the duke until his sword was maneuvered by the knight out of the nobles' hands. the defeat only made geto sigh and smile to himself. "once again, old friend. you win this round. now run along, i know of a certain lady who will be pleased to hear about this."

"nice spar, my friend." gojo grabbed geto's hand, shaking it with an unbendable grip, "keep it up, and someday you'll beat me, your grace."

"who knows..."

"suguru... uh, what do you mean? why would you say that?"

"you know things will never be as good as they are now, right?" the duke said, untying his raven locks out of their band and began to comb through it a little.

"suguru," gojo patted his closest friend a little too hard, "do not say such harsh words. even if things change, we will always stick together."

that statement made geto break a faint smile. nodding along and sending his friend on his way, his smile fades.

your fingers ran along gojo's silver locks in praise. his head resting on your chest while you sat comfortably on his lap. it was a peaceful afternoon in your chambers. but gojo was anxious, his mind spinning in endless circles, "do you think we will last forever."

"probably..." you answered quite puzzled, "we will always stay by each other's side, no matter what."

this precise moment, the knight felt so disconnected from you, even as he listened to the beat of your heart drum consistently in his year. he knew your hearts were beating a different rhythm. "while showing the love we have for each other?"

"don't trouble yourself with such thoughts, 'toru." sincerely speaking, you were not sure how to answer his question. but those troublesome thoughts leaving gojo distressed, in the short run, became true.

gojo remained stoic behind you while your father announced your engagement to suguru geto. the spacious room was giddy by the ton in joyous surprise. blue ocean eyes kept their fixation on the only sight they have ever deemed as beyond beautiful. the heartstrings of the devoted knight were being tugged at ruthlessly as your pearly smile showed genuine content. so he staued quietly behind you, digging his nails deep in his palms. withstanding the sight of your arm clinging on to your new fiancé.

"'toru!"

"do not call me that anymore!" you take a step back by the way his voice cracked. it was the last thing you wanted, the soft grass crunched beneath your weight, pondering on how to assess the situation at hand.

"satoru, he knows!" grief struck your words, a strong breeze swaying your dress as you spoke, you wished such breeze would take this problem away, "my father... someone knew about us and told him. i-i, i have no idea who...!"

you treaded towards him, easy in your step though in a haste to catch up to him. but the more you approached your beloved knight, the distance he established became greater or as if you had never even moved an inch closer to him, "we could have figured out something out."

"he threatened to kill you 'toru!" you choked out a sob, "how... how could i ever let you die for me?"

"it is my job to die for you."

"i do not care, not like that, not because you love me." you say, gripping at the fabric covering your chest. "we can make this right... we-... we can leave once my father is gone. he's old and does not have much time left in this life. i can delay my matrimony as long as possible, and we'll leave. somewhere, anywhere."

your words tugged at his hopeful expectations of a pleasant life, "i don't want you to leave all the luxuries you're showered with. i could never do that to you."

"all i need is you. you know this, no gold, no silk nor jewel could ever replace the way you make me feel." you hesitated to move forward, your lover was still hurt, you were hurt, but the shock he was facing was taking a bigger toll on him than you would have ever expected, "you are more valuable than all of those three things combined to me."

your promise cradled a spark of faith, in the future, in both of you. he loved you ever since he first laid eyes upon you. he knew he was in trouble once he learned he could not exhale a fulfilling breath without you, nor your smile, or your laughter, or your sweet words. so he was willing to dive headfirst into the unknown while holding your hand blindly.

but satoru and you should have known better. fairytale endings are reserved only in ink and paper. for the imagination of the naive, who believe love conquers all. it does not. the complexity of your predicaments was no match for true love's power.

just as swiftly as you were engaged, within a month, you were walking down the aisle. the talks of delayment were futile. it was your father's wish to be wed to a respectable, noble man. everything that your lover was not.

satoru, of course, did not attend the wedding. his heart, speared by countless daggers, became weak and secluded himself in the empire's frontier. there was no goodbye, no note, no glance. he sped on his horse the entire night, running away from such a nightmare. from you.

who dared bewitch him with empty promises. who dared speak words of comfort and assurance. who shamelessly dictated it was going to be a happy ending. he thought of rattling on your little affair, to chastise you from the ton. but what good would ever come out of it?

satoru gojo became wiser now. he renounced his adoration towards you, he renounced everything of you. but ultimately everything around him took its course right back to you. it was a constant and never-ending war within himself.

as he throttled on his horse, you were seeking for him amidst the sea of people, ignoring the holy ceremony unfolding before you altogether. you sought out through the thick, meshed veil the silver locks of satoru.

from an outsider's perspective, it looked like you seemed anxious or rather excited. checking that every little detail was perfectly placed. with occasional turns to adjust your dress. the guests could not help but smile at your cute little antics. you only get married once. who wouldn't want everything to be perfect?

but your erratic movements were all due to your— well former knight. trying to find him. trying to seek the comfort of his presence. however, it only took the passing of time to realize gojo was nowhere to be found.

a hand reached to your face, setting it on your cheek. it was not as big and warm as satoru's, but at least you knew this hand was nothing but a sign of kindness, "are you alright?"

"... yes." your voice is sweet and quiet, earnestly trying to hide your sadness.

"it will be fine, you will be fine. i'm here, after all." suguru whispered. he knew it wasn't much, but you were a prize he was not willing to lose. you thought that finding company in satoru's close friend would not be a bad idea, since he is to become your husband.

as your vows were exchanged, suguru lured you in for a binding kiss right after unveiling your face. the kiss was nothing out of the ordinary, although his lips were plumper though less soft and tender than your beloved knights. but it was not less comforting.

it didn't take long, but it was also arduous, the journey for your melancholy and insomnia to subside and seize reign all over your life. satoru gojo was nothing more than a memory, and you wanted it to keep it a joyous one. your new husband also helped you get rid of your sadness to a certain amount.

nevertheless, there was an inkling of sorrow and longing. after all, you deemed the white-haired man to be the love of your life.

"what are you thinking so fiercely about, dear?" your spouse appeared from behind you with two fragrant cups of tea.

"nothing much..." you smiled while receiving the decorated cup, and once more began to gaze outside the window.

"nonsense, i can hear your brain racking up from the other side of the palace! really, tell me what is on your mind."

you savored the leaf flavor all over your palate while discussing with yourself if you should tell geto your troubles.

"mmmh... it's a little bitter." you say after gulping up the liquid, you look up to your husband and former duke. those dark eyes, caring and attentive as no other, made it difficult not to reveal what was prickling at your heart and mind, and it eased your expression from the bitterness of the tea.

"just the past... nothing more." you took another sip. although you could feel him tense up. you believed he knew what you were thinking about, always, in a scary, accurate way.

"anyways, tell me about your day." you turned your back to the window to enquire suguru directly, "come along."

you grabbed his bulked arm while you pressed your lips to his cheek. then he finally broke into a smile and trailed behind you to the luxurious couch in your shared room.

satoru could not be fending for his life more than now. he was transferred up north of the territory to fend the border. where the below zero temperatures were nothing more than another enemy. the ever changing and ruthless winds delayed most of the troops he led.

the snowstorm hitting his camp had no mercy at will, shaking his tent from side to side ferociously. the capable knight was scared it would come flying off at one point or another. however, sometimes, there were delicate snowfalls, each and every snowflake descending in a harmless manner. he thought you would admire the view, even enjoy a playful moment in the soft, fresh snowfall.

he immediately shook that thought away; he was progressing in burying each and every thought of you. but that would be hard to push away in an instant.

"sir, the queen has fallen ill and requests your presence... immediately." satoru became static in place, not believing what his subordinate just busted inside the tent to announce. it didn't take long for your former knight to mount his trusty stallion and gallop forward to where you were.

it took satoru four restless days to reach the capital, and it took him fifteen minutes to reach all the way to your chambers. the route was different, the castle as well, your former one was probably vacant and sitting empty, waiting for your heir to be born and take over the place.

and gojo stared blankly at the fortified door with two guards at each side. he noticed their conspicuous glances, wondering why he was just standing there. his gaze on the barrier that separated the both of you crumbled as a doctor opened the door to leave.

"oh, i did not foresee her majesty wanting to take a visit." obviously, the doctor did not expect to see a disheveled man in front of their patient's door.

"is she-"

"she's weak," the physician cut gojo off before he could even ask the obvious, "and should take rest... although i believe i remember you. were you her previous escort? before her marriage, that is."

"y-yes..."

"oh! then the queen will be most delighted to see a friend!" the medic cheered on, unbeknownst to satoru's decaying heart as he heard the word 'friend', "it will be good for her health to see you again."

satoru doubted that.

but now that he was there, at the foot of your room, facing your sunny doctor, he could not just leave like that, "i'll be brief."

"of course sir, i'll leave you two alone." he said before closing the door shut.

"y/n?" gojo's words tread carefully and softly. after all, it has been too long since you both have seen both your faces. and the last thing he wanted was to spark confusion and unsettlement. his step was light while approaching the bed you laid in.

he called your name once more, this time louder as per his closeness. your eyes slowly opened, awaiting for the auditory hallucination to be nothing more than that. but the tender voice was accompanied by a person, one of which you would never cease to forget.

“‘toru,” it was but a whisper, an incredulous one as well, your mind certainly knew how to torment you in the most creative ways. but you felt the oh so familiar calloused had you once grew accustomed to being latched on, “you’re here.”

“why?” he said.

you glide your head on the pillow, titling it in wonder of your former knight's question.

“who did this?” the eternal scowl on his face was bothersome, as the way his skin contorted and creased made his rather beautiful face to not be as dashing as it should be.

“‘toru… people get sick, it’s natural.” you squeezed his hand with all your might, which was fairly low. all you wanted was for him to be at ease.

“but you’ve always been so lively.”

“maybe it's the baby.” with your free hand you began to touch your pelvis and smiled, “such a troublemaker.”

“you’re…” his heart plummeted to the floor. it should have been him, “does he know?”

“yes, satoru. it is my duty… and no, i told each servant and doctor i wanted to announce the good news to suguru.”

“however he is and has been nowhere to be seen i assume.” the white haired knight words came out from his grited teeth. he fell to his knee, bending it while his wight settled on the bed and his forehead connecting with his clasped hands, cradling yours.

“he’s busy…”

“you’re far more important, both of you!” his voice unwavered in his statement. his eyes meeting your watery ones, “what is it?! what is wrong, my dear?!”

“it should have been you.” you choked up a sob as you placed your former lover’s hand on your belly to repeat once more, “it should have been you. only you.”

nighttime befell on the both of you, as well as deep slumber only for satoru to be woken up by an uncomfortable sensation. as reality settled in satoru realised crimson red liquid seeping and dampening the silks of your bed covers as well as from his abdomen.

satoru looked up only to see the black locks of who used to be his friend wield a soaked sword.

“why?” was what satoru could muster between grunts.

“for the throne, of course.” geto smiled, oblivious as to his current deeds, “i am king now, she is of no use to me anymore.”

“a-and her child?”

“huh?” geto’s voice had no emotion to it, though he was genuinely confused as to your pregnancy, as you currently were not with child since a while back, “what child? she miscarried just before she really fell ill.”

he laughed as he slashed the flesh of his arms and legs, not too deep and not too shallow, just perfect to slither his way out of repercussions, “the poison in the tea might have been a bit too strong.”

satoru’s blood if it weren’t leaking out of his bowls it would be boiling of rage. it was all part of his plan. the ousting of his relationship with you, the usurping, the falling out of the both of you, the poisoning of his beloved and his banishing to the north. it did not take satoru enough to understand it was all done by suguru’s wretched hands.

“oh and she went crazy after that,” geto said and placed with little struggle, as gojo did not fight back due to the blood loss weakness, the sword on the knight's hands and pointed the blade to where the wound was, “calling out your name for you to save her, it was exhausting. but i thank the lord for giving me the patience to wait for you. to frame you of her murder.”

suguru then began to deepen the sword in the wound, moving it around to deal the final blow. he smiled, watching as the knights blood dripped and scattered out of his mouth.

“i told you, my beloved friend. things really never stay the same. goodbye.”

there is no smut hejajricjwjdji 👇🤵‍♀️

#⛤﹕◟𝐊𝐈𝐙𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒¹⁹⁸⁷ #jjk x you #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo angst #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #suguru x reader #geto suguru smut #this is so sad what

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dhampling · 1 month

Text

sun astarion x reader drabble

Granted, only for a few hours; until morning at most - but there’s a genuine relief when your compatriots want to scatter across the town and leave you be.

All except for him.

wc: 600+

Blistering.

Eyes closed, toes outstretched - free from the confines of all leather and the tough of a sole long-battered - heels heavy in the fresh grass, the new soil.

There’s a moment where all the air carries is far-off laughter and the smell of woodsmoke.

You can’t say you’ve ever spent much time in Rivington - if any, at all. It’s charming in some lice-ridden rickety fashion, akin to other small towns you’ve travelled through in your time; and in prime position under the sun it simply bakes. Smoulders. Dirt paths trodden with clouds of pale puff, shoes laced with thick dry creases of dust. Warm ash on the waning breeze.

The birds chirp in a dot-smatter overhead. Sky blue and vast and baking in the swell of the midday heat.

And it’s here you decide you’ll stay.

Granted, only for a few hours; until morning at most - but there’s a genuine relief when your compatriots want to scatter across the town and leave you be.

All except for him.

His first few tenday spells of day in two hundred years and he understandably basks in it. Pallid, occasionally wounded by the tender curse of long sun-reddened flesh for some small while before the skin heals over and his whinging stops. Forearm over forehead, eyes half-squinting; the gentle cant of his head toward yours on the lolling hill.

Astarion is quiet. It’s understandable. In a few long nights once reaching the Gate, he may have to relinquish his freedom once more. Give himself to the shadows, to the endless night; some awful routine of the moon rising as the stars sparkle overhead and the memory of every ounce of self-control leaving his corpse for the hunt.

Granted, his centuries of plight will no longer be a problem. You’ll die if it ensures he’s free. Unspoken but he’s safe in the knowledge you won’t leave him behind. You won’t forget his struggle. You hold every ounce of his deliverance in safe hands and you’ve proven yourself time and time again to be in his corner.

“I’ll come with you, you know.”

A soft whispering into the sun; and you feel him shift to turn his head fully to you, still squinting; heat radiating from softened cheeks and lashes fluttering at the high of his cheek.

“Hm?”

“If you want me to. Whatever happens next.”

He offers some noncommittal hum and blinks slowly, wriggling a little to lay on his side with arms outstretched toward you.

“Come to me, lover. Please.”

You shuffle closer and rest a head on the hot skin of his inner arm, lips dipping to kiss your head.

“I mean it, Astarion.”

“I know. I do.”

A sleep-heavy sigh of contentment as he holds you still.

“A house. Here. Thoughts?”

You wrinkle your nose.

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“I can’t see you settling here.”

“I could definitely settle here, if I wanted to. Little house. Little... pets.”

His fingers flutter on the peachy low of your cheek. You groan.

“You’ve got a lot of life to live. Rivington shouldn’t factor into that, love.”

“Oh, I know. I’m familiar. However, it has a certain charm by day that I’d never seen before now. Cobble all… warm, underfoot. It’s nice.”

You grin.

“You’re the pet. A fat housecat.”

“I’m not fat.”

“No, but if you keep feeding on me the way you are doing, then that will change.”

He taps you playfully then pauses, before softly nuzzling his face deeper into the warmth of your hair.

“That or the wine, I suppose. I’m a creature of comfort.”

“You’re a creature. Full stop.”

#my writing #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 #astarion #astarion baldurs gate #astarion bg3 #drabble

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sulieykte · 8 months

Text

𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒕𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒓 𝒅𝒂𝒚 𝒔𝒊𝒙 - 𝒃𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒇𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒅

pairing: neteyam x human!reader warnings: smut under the cut mdni, aged up character, use of blindfolds and restraints, barely proofread word count: 650+ masterlist | taglist

“Breathe for me Syulang”

You let go of the breath you’d been unaware you were holding, but Neteyam of course had noticed. There wasn’t a moment you were together where he wasn’t in tune with your body. He knew where you were desperate to be touched before you even knew yourself, and you’d curse him for it if it hadn’t led to the most mind-blowing orgasms.

And that was true even in this moment as he lay his hand, large enough to cover your whole chest, over your heart, grounding you in the moment as you steady your breath, his thumb brushing against your nipple in a movement that you knew was deliberate. You didn’t need the ability to see him to know how he was looking at you, a knowing smirk gracing that heart-shatteringly beautiful face of his. For everything he knew about you, you knew just as much about him, and Neteyam loved having you at his mercy.

When he’d suggested this, you’d assented enthusiastically. Your trysts had been limited to quick romps in the forest, with Neteyam finding it harder to fabricate reasons to visit Hell’s Gate as his responsibility to the Omatikaya grew alongside his father's expectations of him, and the mere suggestion had ignited something in your core.

Now with your eyes covered in a blindfold he’d fashioned out of some torn sheets that you weren’t looking forward to explaining, and your hands tied to the headboard above your bed with his arm cuff for extra measure, it was all a little overwhelming.

“Do you trust me?” Neteyam asks, a hint of concern lacing his voice. His hand snaked up your chest, your breath catching in your throat as it slid over your neck before he grasps your jaw between forefinger and thumb, your head and cunt competing for where your blood could rush to the fastest. “We can stop if you want, take it off?”

You shake your head, chin instinctively tilting upwards in submission. No, that's not what you wanted at all. You trust Neteyam, more than you could trust anyone. His frame towered over your own, and you were well aware that like any of the Na’vi, he could crush you in a heartbeat. But those hands had only ever been gentle with you, made you feel like you’d been to heaven and back, and you knew that would never change.

“No- No I want to. ‘Teyam. I trust you.” His thumb runs along your lower lip as you speak, sending shivers down your spine. “I want this.”

“Hmmm.” You pout as he removes his hands, the sensation replaced with his breath as he leans over you, placing a soft kiss on your lips. “And what is it that you want, Ma Syulang?” Another on your neck. “Where do you want me to touch you?” Another between your breasts and his hands find them, giving them a harsh squeeze that sends your back arching off the bed before they travel torturously slow down your sides and grasp at your hips. “I don’t think I’m in the right place yet, am I?”

The words that seem to spill so easily out of you most of the time found themselves lost on your tongue as he runs the flat of his along your stomach, teasing you as always. Being so close, yet so far away from where you really need him.

You can’t see him, but you can feel him. His breath against your thighs, his nails digging into your ass, his tongue tracing patterns into your hip bone, all working together to drive you irrevocably insane as you can do little more than writhe beneath him, ruining another set of sheets with your arousal before he’s even truly started with you.

The distinctive sound of a breath taken from an atmos mask is barely enough warning.

And the words find you all at once as he buries his tongue between your folds.

taglist: @pandoraslxna @teyamsatan @neteyamsoare @eyweveng @jakesullyfatjuicypeen @neteyamsyawntu @goodbird1 @avatarsslut @amora16447 @blue-slxt @loaksulluyswife @multibishh @qweq-6802 @mylovescara @renaimel @xylianasblog

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ca-8 · 2 months

Note

I really really loved your DogDay fic (like a lot), so I thought I'd request a DogDay x player reader fic about the nightmares both of them would more than likely have when this is all over and they've escaped Playtime Co, and how they'd try to be there for each other when they happen.

Black curtains smothered their view. (Y/n)'s body was light. Someone must have carried them from the sweet warm hug of their mattress and into the shadowing atmosphere. Fabric rippled and swayed gently just barely beneath their falling figure, separating inches before contact... And so, falling past the waving curtains that faded harshly into cracking rubble.. Falling past the growing cracks swirling into light pink, stretching tubes and blue fuzzy ropes... Falling into hell's fiery, drifting red smoke through long, thin fingers that cursed away flesh... Elliot's voice welcomed them once again.

'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡

DogDay x Reader Rippling Deja Vu (Part 1)

(WARNING: The following contains scenes of graphic body horror and mutilation)

'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡

Wet spider webs caught them, like a Venus fly trap breaking the fall of a frightened butterfly with a torn wing. A chill ran down their spine, causing them to stir in their sleep, and soon, (Y/n)'s eyes fluttered open. Dim flickering light beamed down them, watching them. Cold goo kissed the back of their neck. They shuddered and pulled themselves up, dragging behind lines of webs connecting them to their new bed. It tugged, urging (Y/n) to fall back into its embrace, until the lines finally broke. They collapsed on freezing tile. When (Y/n) opened their eyes, the first thing they saw were the tattered clothes they wore on the day they entered the gates of hell: a dirty tank top torn at the side and thin jeans caked in dust and dried blood. Their eyes widened. "No...No no no no no....!"

Rapidly swatting off the remaining clinging webs, (Y/n)’s bottom collapsed onto the tiled floor. Their quick and heavy breaths rushed into the dusty cold air, flailing around in tiny clouds before fusing with the hallway’s stretching darkness. After finally casting off the last piece of the web, their hands suddenly went still, trembling in place, then clenching into fists a few times as if they were holding a Grabpack’s trigger.

(Y/n) looked up. Blinking light illuminated parts of the stretching shadow for brief seconds, beckoning them to let them light their way. But they couldn’t move — they wouldn’t dare move. As soon as they’d jump to their feet, something meant to lie still, something first made for play and learning and innocence that then would become a shell for screams and blood and torn flesh, would come after them and pull and dig and prod and eat at each breathing morsel they offered. (Y/n) sat still, very, very, very, very still.

Then they got up. Their trembling body begging to stay safe under the only working light began to get pulled by marionette strings. (Y/n) started to choke on their cry for help and fought with every atom within them to stop moving, but the blackened jaws had already consumed them. And through all that desperate effort, a pathetic whimper only left their lips.

GO BACK

RUN

HIDE

HELP

THE HOUR OF JOY

One, then four, then ten, then innumerable warnings laced in trauma appeared under the blinking lights. Blue and red and yellow overlapped with one another, shouting over each other, screaming at a once naive, curious fool. (Y/n)’s body didn’t listen, it just had to see what that gorgeous cherry red light was growing in the distance.

They attempted at another cry for help, but only another quiet muffle sang along with the factory’s distant curling cogs. First wiggling their fingers, then shooting their hands up to their face, (Y/n) felt for a mouth, a hint of lips or drool or just anything, but nothing. Just a blank (s/c) canvas of skin. Their throat erupted in shouts and wails, they even tried pulling at the canvas, and still nothing — the fool had become a shrieking tomb.

The walls stopped moving, and they looked down to see their legs glued to the floor.

And the ground began to roar.

Ripples and rumbles threw (Y/n) off their feet and forced them to watch the rear of the hallway. Flickering lights hinted to the devastation’s core; a flash of a human skull protruding from rising, cracking tile, a glimpse of light showing onto its growing body that melted from bone to a curling wet tongue rounding into a pink and blue twirling body, and that blinking, twirling body grew larger as its organs and bones stuck out and into darkened pink, stretching arms, weaving through a monstrous ribcage, tying together blue and purple fur and paws with ravaging whetted claws, growing and growing and growing against the cracking floor and screaming walls, growing and growing and growing and growing and growing

until it stopped.

And the human skull twisted, slowly rotating on its spinal column. Curling all the way around, blood rained from inside the splitting bone, emitting an appalling crackling echo as bits of it snapped off onto the ground. One of them hit the fool in the forehead. Finally, it stopped once completing its orbit.

It stared at (Y/n), and (Y/n) couldn’t help but stare back at it. Naked teeth and unblinking empty eye sockets, sloshing pulsating guts and creaking legs. They wanted to run, to hide, anything to stay as far away as that thing as possible. Its mouth opened, and its jaw stretched down and down and down toward the floor, bits of bone snapping and muscle from beneath bulging from the holes and stretching and stretching and its teeth reached to the ground and dug underneath the tile.

It stopped. It winced. It pushed forward, claws scraping against the tile as its mouth excavated gathering tile, making the walls and ceiling screech such a deafening bawl. Faster it crawled, right down the hall, right towards (Y/n).

Right as glowing dots of life awoken in those empty sockets, they regained control of their body again. They scrambled onto their feet and bolted down the hallway.

“A……?”

The hallway seemed to curl in on itself, but that didn’t stop them. (Y/n) so desperately wanted to cover their ears from that godforsaken screech but they couldn’t risk it. They just had to make their legs push faster, no matter how much they ached or cramped or were being sucked into the earth-

“..An…l….”

They were slowing down. Something of a thousand pounds became attached to their ankles and drove them into the melting floor. They yelped and fell right onto burning slosh, howling in pain and immediately yanking themselves up. Pained gasps and whines heaved from their lips, and they looked back to see the boiling floor had engulfed their legs, spreading up to their calf. (Y/n) spotted sections of their skin closer to its mouths peeling back to reveal bubbling muscle, before it all were to be swallowed.

“....Angel…”

They tried hauling themselves up, but grew unsteady and fell back on the burning slosh. (Y/n) let out an agonizing cry as skin began to peel off from their arms. Smoke rose from their body, as if the spirits of their faded bits were already accepting the inevitable end. They peered over their shoulder — the creature was standing over them.

“.....Angel…!”

It dug up their body. (Y/n) violently flailed against its gasp, and through their tears they saw muscle plunging from their arms and legs and more of that thing’s hands wrapping around their tiny, weak, insignificant body, twirling around their waist and making them feel their spine slowly snap.

Agony, sweet deserving agony, topping with the fool’s suffering melody

“(Y/N)!”

And they were back in their bed’s warm embrace.

(Y/n)’s eyes snapped wide open, letting out a fresh, tearful waterfall streaming down their flushed cheeks. The first thing they saw in darkened solace were a vast, open, empty mouth and eyes that were scrunched up in blazing worry. But this uncanny face was that of familiarity, of warmth, of real joy; yet they couldn’t stop the quickened breaths.

“Angel, it’s okay, look at me, everything’s okay,” DogDay said, although by the tone of his voice, he was starting to panic as well.

With trembling, non-melting arms, they cautiously hauled themselves up, and their breathing began to slow. Putting his giant paws against their back and on the side of their face, DogDay gently shushed them as his thumb stroked their wet cheek.

“That’s it, just focus on breathing, you’re doing so well, angel…” With that giant smile as bright as the sun, his guiding whispers lit up the room. Before they knew it, the alerts for death rang silent and (Y/n)’s heart became steady. DogDay sat down on their bed and placed them on his lap, and for a few minutes, he held them close to his fuzzy, vanilla-scented chest.

Then, (Y/n) spoke up in a hoarse voice: “I’m sorry.”

DogDay stopped petting their head for a second. “Now what are you apologizing for, angel?” he uttered in bewilderment. Words bubbled up inside their throat but they couldn’t bear to speak. He looked down and continued to stroke their shaking head and back. “Another dream about the factory, I take it?”

(Y/n) tensed up and nodded. His grip on them became tighter, but not too tight.

At first, he didn’t know what to say. Decades of being trapped with nothing but tiny savaging predators taking joy in tearing off his skin little by little, day after day, left him blinded in miserable need. In rare moments of peace, he always dreamt about an angel descending from above and down in the hellish depths that once housed happiness, and blessing those worth saving with freedom. But not once did he see him reaching that freedom; in fact, he still wonders to this day what he did to deserve being one of the only survivors after failing so many so dear to him. And he despised it.

The DogDay he was conditioned to never think about himself so much. He should always know what to say, especially now. His beloved angel had suffered through so much just like he did, and to make matters worse, they were apologizing for it. If anything, he should be the one…

…”I’m sorry too.”

“What?” (Y/n) gazed up at him. Even in the darkness, the light in their beautiful eyes beamed such radiant sacred life. Life that he swore to protect since that day.

“I-I’m… I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to witness and endure so much, I’m sorry I couldn’t help you when you saved me, I.. I’m sorry that you took in so much pain, I-! I…” DogDay took in a breath — ‘don’t cry, this isn’t about you.’ — “I…I’m sorry, angel. You’ve been through so much, and for our sakes… for my sake.”

He embraced them back into his chest, squeezing his eyes shut to fight back stubborn tears. “You have every right to be like this — to cry, to lash out, to get so, so scared — after everything that’s happened, you’re allowed to be this vulnerable more than anyone else.”

They were so quiet. ‘Did I say the right thing? I didn’t make them upset, did I?”

But he did. Something inside (Y/n) cracked at last. Their chest tightened and pulsated and wallowed up, and something crawled up their throat that made them gasp for air and for more of him. They quickly wrapped their arms around DogDay’s torso and let out a shuddering wail as tears flowed freely down their cheeks and onto his chest.

Feeling his heart hammer against the wet spot they buried their face in, he froze in place. Then his smile drained every ounce of uncertainty, and he held his angel once again.

“That’s right, angel, let it all out. You’re safe right now,” he softly muttered to them, letting a tear fall from his eye, “and I’ll never let anyone hurt you ever again.”

'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*''*•.¸♡

AND that’s it for right now! As with the last request, there’s a shorter word limit for posts that directly respond to Asks, so I’ll be cutting it off right here and will be posting a Part 2 soon! Sorry this took me a bit to release; new college quarter is starting and I've had a little bit of writer's block, but I have overcome it!! Thank you so much to @paragon-of-obsessed for requesting this, and extra thankies for liking my last DogDay fic! This was so much fun to write, and I can't wait to dive into the next part!

Like what ya saw? Well you can commission your own private piece now!! Read more about that here! Thanks so much for reading, and have a great day!~ 💜💜💜

(Also my ao3 is the_real_catnap_98 if ya wanna follow me on there - same posts are (gonna be) on there + fanfics staring my OCs!! (...and a self-insert, lOOK lIFe iS HArD-/lh)

#fanfiction #my baby #poppy playtime chapter 3 #x reader #requests open #dogday #gender neutral y/n #dogday x reader #poppy playtime dogday #poppy playtime #the smiling critters #self ship community #self insert x canon #horror fic #body horror tw #little angst #comfort character #comfort fic

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rustedhearts · 6 months

Text

hunger (steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: steve comes home from jail again with a certain hunger in his eye. but all hungry dogs have teeth that bite.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ but i love him to death ✶ main masterlist

tags: smut right out of the gate here, lads; mentions of suicide/thoughts of suicide; presence of knives + guns; this is essentially gator tillman; unprotected and kinda fucked up sex; toxic (borderline abusive) relationship

rural midwest. winter, 2007.

A beam of blue light fell over the tattered quilt holding your body: a lump under the covers, padded with layers meant to conserve warmth. A snowstorm beat against the windowpanes, bringing the darkness of the night to a hazy, fuzzy grey. Steve always liked how snow fell in the night—how it could turn even the darkest of hours to light.

He staggered into the room with slow, careful steps, watching the bed quilt rise and fall steadily over his shoulder as he dropped his items on the dresser. They used to give him plastic bags like all the other inmates—but when the door started rotating regularly for Steve, he just scooped his stuff from a plastic tub and went on his way.

Three pocketknives, a wallet falling apart at the seams stuffed full of cash and Playboy cards, a silver chain with a thick cross pendant, a lighter, and a silver bullet from a '76 Colt inherited from his daddy smudged with grease and dirt and whatever else might enter Steve's pocket. The bastards took his Menthols.

Steve wiggled out of his coat, letting it fall to the floor. He came undone, layer by layer, and pulled the cross over his head. He brought it to his lips and kissed it quietly before letting it fall to his chest. A couple nights, weeks—hell even a few hours—in the clink always brought him back to God.

And that's how you found him when you turned on your side: bare-chested in only a pair of plaid boxers. He had deep violet bruise on his left rib. The pink scar sliced over his right side shimmered in a silver light against the whiteness of the snow beaming through the drapes. His face was empty, but you knew what was going through his head.

"Steve."

He lifted his eyes, following your whisper to the bed. You peeled back the blankets on his side in invitation. He looked at the empty mattress space for a long while, then toward the cross above the bed. He swept a chapped palm over the top of his buzzed head and stepped forward, boots clunking heavily along the floor. The mattress jostled when he sank down, hunching to yank at his laces and kick his boots away.

You laid back, prepared to welcome him with a sweet, sleepy kiss hello—but he was slipping under the covers and crawling over you, a heavy weight pressing down and grabbing at your jaw with a firm hand. He pulled your head his way and swallowed your mouth with greedy tongue and nipping teeth. The taste of him, the prick of five o'clock shadow gathering around his mouth and along his chin, the stench of his car on his hands—it yanked you from slumber with as much force as Steve's hands pulling now.

Your panties first, twisted and tangled around your knees so he could fit his hand between your thighs. They were so warm and soft under the blankets, and he couldn't help the need to trap his wrist between them and shove two fingers in. You gasped against his mouth, sharp and white-breathed. He squished his other hand a little tighter around your cheeks, giving it a shake to shut you up.

He didn't want to talk. He never did.

The silver cross around his neck tapped into your chin with every push of his fingers in and out, bodies rocking together against the pull of his touch. He kissed when he could, sloppy and untimed. He huffed hot breaths into your open mouth when he couldn't, watching through a pair of bleary eyes as your face scrunched up.

You latched onto his arm when you were close, nails piercing warm skin. He slipped his fingers from between your legs and shoved your thighs apart, sitting back just far enough to let the covers slip down and uncover your bodies. Your panties were kicked somewhere toward the end of the bed now, t-shirt pushed up under your chin to pull your breasts into the cold. He pinched them your nipples peaked in the cold, but he was far too hungry to worry about waiting for you to stop shivering.

Steve plunged in: one rough push that catapulted you toward the headboard and knocked the cross against the wall. An elongated groan filled the room, hoarse and guttural and all Steve. He slipped his hand from your face down to your neck, where his thumb punctured the space against your windpipe and held it tightly in place. You tipped your chin up to tell him it was alright, and he lunged forward to collect your mouth again.

He gave short, rough little thrusts that had you squeaking against his mouth, teeth clinking and bumping together. He was making it known: this was not for pleasure.

This was for possession.

You were his. You were his when he went away, and you were always his when he came home. You were his in the cold, his in the heat, his when he thought about taking that pistol in the top of the closet and putting it between his eyes to put everyone out of their misery. His for all time.

His forever—even the day you'd eventually decide to leave.

Steve brought his hand back up to your jaw again, cupping it in his palm and digging his fingers into your cheeks. You pinched your eyes shut when the blunt edge of his nails scraped at your skin. Sputtering when his teeth sank into your neck, whining when he smacked his hand against your thigh and soothed it with the same heavy hand.

Oh, he loved you so terribly.

You came with a high-pitched squeal, and it was pathetic how you could've done so from just his rough huffing and manhandling alone. Steve on the other hand, was nowhere near done. And he pushed through all your squirming and whimpering, pulling your head back into place by your chin every time you tried to shy away. He watched heat swell in your face until sweat beaded at your head and neck, pooling in the crevice behind your knees. And when a tear dripped down your cheek, he licked it up with a hot mouth.

The salty taste of it on his tongue and the sound of your quiet whining had him convulsing between your legs. His hold weakened around your face, limply falling around your throat when he sank down and nuzzled into your neck. You took a moment to catch your breath, and then scratched at his scalp with your nails gently. Pressed a kiss to the top of his ear, pulsing and beat-red.

"Glad you're home," you whispered in the half-dark.

Steve lifted his hips until he slipped free, rolling onto his side of the bed with limp weight. He groaned as he shifted around, finally deciding on a side comfortable enough to close his eyes.

You fumbled for your panties under the bed and took them to the bathroom. You kept the light off.

✶ ✶

In the morning, you fixed Steve a hearty breakfast that warmed the kitchen with flour and bacon grease. He shuffled awake around ten o'clock. trudging into the kitchen with a scowl and puffy eyes. His cross gleamed in the white light of a snowy morning on his way to the cupboard.

"Morning," you murmured sweetly. "There's coffee on the warmer if you—"

But Steve was cracking open a can of Budweiser and gulping it down on his way toward the kitchen table, where piles of unopened mail addressed to him sat in heaps. Few envelopes were ripped apart on the other side, and Steve snatched at one that was undoubtedly addressed to him.

"Why'd you open this?" he grumbled, pulling the folded sheet of paper out.

You placed another spatula of bacon on a paper-towel lined plate and glanced his way. "It's the gas bill, Steve. I...I didn't know how long you'd be away this time, and I didn't want—"

"Does it have your fuckin' name on it?"

Heat swelled in your cheeks. You turned back to the skillet sizzling on the back burner. Clearly, there would be no sweet good morning kisses or a lull of quiet after such an intimate night.

Steve huffed, flicking the gas bill toward the end of the table. "Don't worry about shit that isn't yours to worry about."

You clicked the burner off and brought the plate of bacon to the table, setting it a little roughly in front of Steve. "I'll let them shut the gas off next time, Steve."

"Why d' you always gotta be fuckin' smart?" Steve scowled again, and you curled your fingers tight around the porcelain plate of pancakes you were carrying over.

"Do you want coffee?"

Steve sighed exasperatedly, snatching a piece of bacon and ripping the top bite off. "No, just—fine, whatever."

You poured two mugs and grabbed extra plates, bringing them to the table. You remained quiet as you sipped your coffee and stared at the remnants of mail on the wood.

"When's your court date?"

Steve tossed you a look, tossing more bacon on his plate. "You really wanna fuckin' talk about that?"

"Just want to be prepared," you explained, cupping your hands around the warmth of your mug.

"Again, not your business—"

"No, but it is my business Steve. You really don't think any of this affects me? Every time you go to jail, who do you think takes care of shit here?"

Steve turned in his chair, cocking his head. "Oh, so that's it? You think you're some big boss when I'm not here? That you run shit—"

"I didn't say that—"

"Let me tell you, sweetheart, you don't run shit. This is my house, this is my business—"

"Then maybe I should just go stay with my mom for a bit."

The proclamation hung there for a bit. You stared at the dark pool of coffee before you, and Steve dug holes into your head. He shifted in his chair and snatched at his beer, taking a loud swig of it before it slammed down again. He slapped a few pancakes onto his plate and wiggled his fork through the pile. Another tired sigh.

"Don't say stupid shit like that."

You picked at a piece of bacon and watched it crumble into bits. “She’s been wanting me to come home for a while.”

“Well that’s great,” Steve huffed, teeth scraping his fork as he wolfed down half a pancake. “How’s that supposed to make me feel?”

You dropped your chin into your hand on the table and shrugged. “Didn’t know you felt things, Steve.”

It was quiet a moment. The light above the sink buzzed behind you. You tapped your finger on your mug and swallowed. Steve worked at the pancake packed in his cheek with slow chews.

His chair flew back and clattered to the floor. You hurried to your feet and backed away toward the hall. Your tapping finger knocked over your mug of hot coffee in the commotion, browning the mail in a puddle. Steve reached for you in one large leap your way, but you sprinted to the bathroom and slammed the door.

From the other side, Steve’s stomps were thundering. The door rattled with his pounding, and you kept a hand firmly around the knob in case the lock didn’t hold.

“They’ll call the cops again, Steve!” You warned him.

“Open this fucking door,” he growled back.

“Fuck you—“

“Fuck you! Bitch,” he grumbled, kicking the door for good measure before his steps faded away.

You waited for them to find a place with your head against the tiled wall. They wandered for a while, pacing and rummaging. He slammed a few cabinets and threw a few things, grumbling as he went. He paused in front of the door after a noisy trip to the bedroom, and you pulled off the wall to stare at his shadow in the beam of light on the floor. Whatever he was going to say or do, he decided against, and stomped away. The front door slammed moments later.

✶ ✶

You did it. You packed a bag. Stuffed it full of clothes and all your necessary things—and then you stared at it on the end of the bed. The quilt had lost its color from all the washing. The pillows were limp and flat. The nightstand collected piles of dust around your things that never moved.

You packed a bag, but you couldn’t leave.

You laid down instead, crawling under the quilt with an aching need. The house ticked with a stilling silence. You watched the snow fall against a grey sky until it stung your eyes. You thought of digging out your diary from the box under the bed and reading all about your early days with Steve to remind you just why you should stay. But you knew you’d find a million more reasons to go. And the bed was so warm, and you were so tired.

Ironically, you just wanted Steve.

He came home as the sun was falling down, kicking the door shut with a quiet clamp. He came stomping into the bedroom with slow, meticulous steps. He was letting you know he was no longer angry. Every move came with a metallic clink from the zipper of his camo jacket and his half-closed pocketknife on his thigh.

The door chittered on its hinges when he nudged it open. You tried not to stir as he moved in closer. The bed dipped with the weight of him, tipping you off kilter.

“Got you these.”

The soft leg of a brown teddy bear touched your arm, and when you turned he was holding a pair of red roses. You accepted them gingerly, pressed onto your back. Steve gnawed on his bottom lip, pulling off a string of skin. The tops of his ears were nipped raw by the wind, cheeks rosy from the cold. He had a new scrape on his left knuckle over the inked cross.

“Didn’t mean to call you a bitch, baby,” he mumbled, scratching at his scalp. “You just…you really fuckin’ get me goin’, you know? You-you piss me off.”

You played with the tiny soft ear on the teddy bear, heart pulsing in your throat. “Sorry.”

Steve sighed, pulling at a loose thread in the quilt near your arm. “Just don’t go, honey. Y’ can’t leave me. Okay?”

You glanced at him, holding the teddy bear on your hip. “Okay.”

The hiss of snow tapping at the glass filled the quiet of the room in the lull. You reached out and placed your hand on his arm, thumb stroking the head of the serpent scaling his thick limb. He watched you all the while, sucking the blood pooling from the broken skin of his lip.

“Got the court thing sorted out. Don’t want you worrying.”

You glanced up at him again, nodding. Getting it “sorted out” meant he paid someone off. There seemed to be an agreement between Steve and the officers that knew him well.

“Okay…wanna lay with me?”

His eyes darted around the bed. His boots were still on, camo jacket unzipped. He smelled like new Menthols, and you could see the outline of a pack in one of his thigh pockets.

“For a minute,” he said, laying back on the pillows beside you. “Gotta take care of some business tonight.”

He tucked his hands behind his head and you curled into his side. You didn’t even mind that he didn’t hold you—he was here, breathing beneath you, warm and tender, and that was all that mattered.

You were his. Every time, no matter what.

#rolly!#steve harrington #gator tillman #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x fem!reader #joe keery #steve harrington au #steve harrington blurb #gator tillman fic #gator tillman fanfiction

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barleyo · 11 months

Text

Pollen. (part two)

Recom! Miles Quaritch X Fem! Reader

A/N: Hope this doesn’t seem rushed, I had so many ideas and sadly not all of them got to be implemented, but there’s always next time! As always, requests are always open. Enjoy!

Wordcount: 1.7k

Tags: Age difference, publics sex, work sex, p in v, oral (fem receiving), switching positions, interspecies sex, human x Na'vi sex, smut with minimal plot, size kink, sex pollen

Tagged users: @personaldemons-stuff @faerienotfound @torukmakto22

Quaritch followed her directions and made his way back to the base, not without difficulty. The way she read off coordinates and answered questions on call made it hard for him to resist stopping again to get off, to stroke his cock while she egged him on.

He caught himself palming his erection through his cargos when (Y/N) would yawn, huff, or groan, shifting around in her seat innocently, not realizing what her sounds did to him.

“I see Hell’s Gate, missy. Be ready for me,” he said.

“I will be,” (Y/N) said. Miles could hear a lock unlatch. “I’m in the lab, there's a tiny office in the back, I’ll wait for you there.” He swore he could hear her giggle before she shut off her walkie talkie.

“Lil’ tease.”

Quaritch walked onto the base. The shift from soft Pandorian mud to hard cement under his boots went unnoticed to him, focused only on what was waiting for him inside. The cool air pumping through the building did nothing to stop the sweat dripping down his face and toned, blue arms. Nothing but (Y/N) could stop the itch in him.

Not a thought entered his mind as he entered the lab. Scientists and technicians alike snapped their heads over to the Colonel, hearing his heavy steps.

“Out.”

“Excuse me?” someone said, some nobody that was in his way.

“Everyone, get out. Now, I mean,” he drawled, stepping out of the doorway to usher the group out. “Don’t come back.” He slammed the door on the lot and scanned the room for a door in the back that would house a waiting (Y/N).

A door slid open, revealing the woman cloaked in a white lab coat that Quaritch couldn’t wait to remove. He jogged over and pushed her back into the room, sliding the door back into place. The room was, as she had described, small. He had to slouch down to fit, leaning nearly completely over (Y/N) in the process.

“Are they all gone–?” she tried to ask before being hushed by Quaritch’s finger.

“Don’t worry about it.” He removed his finger and instead placed his hand under her face, cupping it and bringing it close to his own. “Waited for this long enough, ‘m gonna take you right here.”

He pressed a hot, rough kiss to her lips, already nipping at them with his pointed teeth. Miles held the back of her head with one hand, and sat her on the desk with the other, pushing her back flat on the surface. Blindly, his hands found the zipper of her pants and undid it, pulling the fabric down to expose her laced panties, a wet spot forming at the front.

“Can already smell you, honey. Bet you need me down there more than up here suckin’ on those sweet lips of yours,” he said, pulling away from her face, admiring her red, puffy lips, and settled himself between her thighs, kneeling on the cool linoleum floor. “Gonna kiss your other lips for now,” he chuckled and traced the outline of her pussy through her panties, feeling her shift under his touch.

“Please, don’t tease me,” she sighed, legs hooking over his shoulders.

“So impatient.” He pulled her panties off with his teeth, letting his sharp, fang-esque canines graze against her thighs as he moved.

She shivered at the air hitting her slick cunt and bare legs. She wasn’t cold for long as Quaritch grabbed her thighs and locked them under his arms, spreading them wide. He licked a stripe over the inside of one, teasing the skin lightly. His tongue was rough and textured. It was intoxicating. He did the same to the other, and bit into the plush skin. (Y/N) cried in a mixture of pain and deep pleasure as Quaritch ran his tongue over the punctures, cleaning up the pricked blood.

He grew bored at only licking her thighs, though, and brought his mouth to her pussy. His large tongue slid through her wet folds, slowly teasing through, from her entrance to her pulsing clit. He stopped at her nub and clasped his lips around it, sucking on the tender bud. He let messy dribbles of spit fall from his mouth to coat her cunt and mix with her juices, slurping it up and spitting it back out in an endless cycle.

“Need you,” (Y/N) whined, not sure what she was whining for, “please, Colonel, please.”

He looked up at her from between her legs, loudly slurping at her clit when they made eye contact. “What d’you need? Can’t give you what you don’t ask for,” he said, muffled by her pussy.

“Fingers. Can you put your fingers in me? Please, want ‘em bad.”

“Got it, you greedy thing,” Quaritch brought his face away from her cunt. It was shiny and slick from her wetness and his own saliva. He dragged his long fingers through her folds. “Mouth ain’t enough for you? Need something stretching out this slutty, little cunt.” He dipped a finger into her, pushing deeper into her when her hips bucked against his hand.

“Gonna cum, ‘m real close,” (Y/N) moaned, throwing her head back on the desk.

“So damn worked up, hardly even did anything to you, baby.” He slipped another finger in, scissoring them to loosen her up. He curled his fingers inside of her, catching her spongy spot with them and gave small kitten licks to her clit. “There you go, just like that.”

Her walls fluttered around his two fingers and clamped down, juices pumping out of her cunt as she came. Her eyes rolled back as he quickened his pace, abusing her g-spot and overstimulating her. He finally pulled his fingers out, popped his fingers into his mouth, and sucked off the remainder of her arousal on them.

“Come here, baby,” he briefly picked her up, taking her place on the desk and sat her on his lap. “Come taste yourself in my mouth, tastes like magic.” He pushed into her mouth again, tangling his tongue with hers, sucking it and twirling it around. Quaritch explored deeper into her mouth while he unzipped his cargos, pulling his dick out.

“Oh, Christ,” she said, breaking the kiss when she felt him slip his dick between her thighs. He placed a firm grip on her hips, bruising them with the tips of his fingers.

“Hush, (Y/N), let me wet my cock with your pussy.” He inched her forward, dick sliding between her folds but not entering. Still holding her hips, he moved her body up and down, fucking her inner thighs. Trails of slick formed on his long, striped cock. His purple, blushing tip peaked at her every time he brought her hips down, sending waves of pleasure from the friction.

Quaritch angled her body forward a bit, letting his tip make direct contact with her tip every time he thrusted.

“Ready to put it in, relax,” he cooed into her ear, pressing a kiss behind it. Miles lifted her up again and slipped the fat head of his cock into (Y/N), feeling her clamp onto his length already. “Hold on now,” he said, “relax, now. Don’t want you cummin’ too quick.” He brought her up again and sunk her body back down, this time inching more of his dick into her. He repeated his action again and again until she had swallowed his entirety.

“It’s too much, feels too full n’ big,” she moaned, clamping around his cock whenever he would move.

“You’re a tough girl, you can take it,” Quaritch groaned, bucking his hips into her. He started with a slow, gentle pace, easing into her before speeding up. He took it up a notch when he noticed her grinding onto his cock, searching for more. “You want more? More, girl?”

“Yes, more,” her words slurred together, “need it deeper.”

Quaritch hummed and flipped (Y/N)’s body around, bending her over the desk and forcing her ass in the air. “You can take it,” he bent down and whispered into her ear. He bottomed out into her, pressing against her cervix’s tip without mercy, and pounded into her cunt.

“Fuck!”

He gave her ass a light smack, just enough to make it blush a beautiful red. He did this to the other cheek as well, smirking when (Y/N) let out a pained moan. Placing his hands back on her hips, he rutted into her quickly, letting the sound of skin slapping crowd the room. Staring at where their bodies met, he watched as a white ring of arousal mark the base of his cock.

“Creaming all over my dick, you nasty thing. Bet you gonna break any minute now.”

He was right. She wasn’t too far from cumming, her belly felt a familiar warmth creep up into it.

“Please, can I cum? Please, I need to soon,” she begged, sweat beading down her forehead and cheeks.

“Not yet. You’ll know when you can, believe that.” Quaritch’s hips stuttered as he said this, chasing his own impending release. He held off, not ready to give into his needs. “Fuckin’ choking me with your pussy, tight as hell,” he growled, feelings his balls tighten.

His head felt light and he was dizzy. The room was too hot and too cold at the same time, and he felt so suffocatingly lost in her cunt that he didn’t realize what he was saying. “Cum, baby, all over me. C’mon now.” He nestled into her, going as deep as he could to cum in her.

“God,” she moaned, “cummin’ now, Colonel!” Her foot hooked around his ankle as she came, holding onto him for some sense of stability as her legs nearly gave out under her.

“Good fuckin’ girl, good– good girl,” he said while his chest heaved. His hips sputtered against her ass one more time before he came in her, seed leaking out of her ruined cunt when he pulled out.

(Y/N) squirmed out of his arm and sat back on the desk, covering up her bare chest. “Feel any better?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Miles said, returning to the most of his full height as he could manage in the small office, “definitely not done with you yet, though.”

#barleyxnighteye #smutfic #fanfiction #smutty smut smut #smut #fanfic #avatar 2 #avatar #avatar way of water #miles quaritch x reader #miles quaritch #recom quaritch #avatar recoms #female reader #x reader #fem reader #x female reader

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sjbattleangel · 8 months

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Hi my name is Ebony Dark’ness Dementia Raven Way and I have long ebony black hair (that’s how I got my name) with purple streaks and red tips that reaches my mid-back and icy blue eyes like limpid tears and a lot of people tell me I look like Amy Lee (AN: if u don’t know who she is get da hell out of here!). I’m not related to Gerard Way but I wish I was because he’s a major freaking hottie. I’m a vampire but my teeth are straight and white. I have pale white skin. I’m also a witch, and I live in Baldur's Gate in the Sword Coast. I’m a goth (in case you couldn’t tell) and I wear mostly black. I love Hot Topic and I buy all my clothes from there. For example today I was wearing a black corset with matching lace around it and a black leather miniskirt, pink fishnets and black combat boots. I was wearing black lipstick, white foundation, black eyeliner and red eye shadow. I was walking outside. It was snowing and raining so there was no sun, which I was very happy about. A lot of nobles stared at me. I blasted magic missile at them.

“Hey Ebony!” shouted a voice. I looked up. It was…. Astarion!

“What’s up Astarion?” I asked.

“Nothing.” he said shyly.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING YOU LUDACRIS FOOLS!"

It was……………………………………………………Minsc!

#baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate minsc #minsc #astarion #bg3 #my immortal #ebony dark'ness dementia raven way #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #bg3 astarion

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tygoii · 1 year

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Innocent Aether x Mage Afab! Reader x Sub Venti

Warnings: Clueless Aether, Dom Reader!, Giving and receiving, Creampie, Virgin Sub Aether, Jealous and Sub Venti!, Flirty Reader, use of anemo power (Venti’s part), Edging Venti

❦

Venti

You were a powerful mage traveling teyvat you were in Mondstadt visiting a certain bard every time you visited the bard would be wooing over you he would always be a blushing, stuttering mess when you flirt with him telling him how cute he looks you of course know his secret and you’ve seen his archon form ‘your so small and cute venti you would look even cuter in my bed all fucked up babbling nonsense begging for more’ the bard’s face would be the color of a crimson agate.

Today you were visiting Mondstadt again you were dressed in a quite revealing outfit since the weather was 80 degrees you were greeted by the guards in front of the gate “Oh Y/n welcome back” said a girl with blonde hair and blue eyes “Hello Barbara how’s the church?” said Y/n smiling “Well..After the fight ended with dvalin the traveler gave back the holy lure only it was damaged a green bard managed to fix it i was so worried but i’m glad everything is back to normal” said Barbara “A green bard hm..” Y/n felt a strong gust of wind blow her skirt Y/n managed to cover it before y/n flashed anyone “Well i have to get going me and the sisters have are singing by Y/n” said Barbara walking away Y/n greeted everyone she past by Y/n was now at the tavern greeted by a red hair man “Oh Y/n welcome back” said Diluc “Hey diluc the usual please” said Y/n smiling at the man who’s face turned a bit red before nodding going off to serve her drink Y/n looked around the tavern before feeling someone’s presence she turned around seeing a green bard hugging her from behind “Oh Venti great seeing you” said Y/n she felt the boys hot breath on her neck he smiled snuggling closer to Y/n “Venti i need to pay” said Y/n “O-oh yea right sorry!” said Venti turning red “Soo how was liyue” said Venti listening to every word Y/n had to say “I was traveling with Zhongli there was a lot of ruin guards..” said Y/n “o-oh with Z-Zhongli huh” said Venti his eyes glowing he was soon distracted by Y/n’s revealing outfit “Where did you get that outfit?” said Venti “I got it from Xiao isn’t he just a cutie~” said Y/n Venti sighed “H-how about we go travel i missed you so much!” said Venti grabbing Y/n’s hand and leaving forgetting about the wine. Venti was watching Y/n climb when he caught a glimpse of her black lace panties he blushed he got a idea and raised his finger a strong gust of wind blew at Y/n’s skirt flashing him Venti saw Y/n already at the top “Come on Venti let’s get going” said Y/n Venti rubbed his thighs before climbing the stone wall. The two beings walked towards a cabin Venti gulped seeing Y/n’s expression change and saw her smirking “W-wha—“ Venti was pushed down to the floor as Y/n closed the door behind them giving them more privacy “I-is something wrong?..” said Venti Y/n was standing in front of the frighten boy “Oh nothing when i came into mondstadt the wind blew my skirt luckily i stopped it before i flashed anyone or a certain bard.” said Y/n making Venti sweat and start stuttering “And then when i was climbing on top of the stone wall i felt a gust of wind blow me again so tell me Bard why would you do such a pervert thing~” said Y/n the bard blushed and tried speaking but the only thing that came out was a whimper making him cover his mouth quickly and Y/n smirk “You like being called names pervy~” said Y/n the bard quickly protested “Oh ok then i have to get going i have to go to sumeru—“ “n-no please..” whined Venti Y/n bent down to Venti’s level and petted his hair “Tell me little bard what do you want~” said Y/n “Y-you..i n-need you..” said Venti Y/n kissed him making the bard whimper well he’s in trouble.

• You would edge Venti till he’s begging for sweet release

•Venti loved cuddling on your big breast and laying down on them when your edging him he would rest his head on your breast

•Venti also loves groping and sucking on your boobs so expect them to become sensitive

•Venti Loves to cum inside you hoping some day you get knocked up he would always imagine a mini version of him and you running around calling him Papa and you Mama

•Venti also likes breeding you because that means you belong to him and he belongs to you

Aether

Every time you visit Mondstadt you would run into Aether the hero of Mondstadt you would always see Aether do the work of others and Aether always seems tired but Paimon always agreed instead of talking with Aether first. Y/n would always compliment Aether ‘Your such a cutie’ ‘I like your eyes they remind me of my home country’ sometimes Y/n would make dirty jokes when paimon wasn’t around but Aether was to innocent he didn’t understand what those jokes meant Y/n did adored Aethers innocence but sometimes she would get sad that Aether was probably not interested. It was dark outside Y/n was heading to her rented cottage covered in flowers she heard a sound and raised her hand about to use her (vision) skills when she saw Paimon flying towards her “Waaaaa Y/n help Aether is being attacked by a huge monster!” said Paimon her small hand trying to grab Y/n’s she was running being led by Paimon she saw Aether panting and trying to fight off all the Primo Geovishap but soon collapsed injuries all over his body Y/n attacked a geoviship heading their way she walked up to the rest of the geoviship “Get away from him.” said Y/n releasing a powerful attack killing all the geoviship and dropping bones Y/n ran towards Aether checking for a pulse he opened his eyes seeing Y/n “O-oh Y/n~ sooo great to see you..” said Aether his face red “Uh what’s wrong with Aether?..” said Paimon “I-i don’t k—“ Y/n was cut off by Aether wrapping his arms around her neck “Well Uh why don’t you guys stay until Aether is better” said Y/n “Ok..” said Paimon. Y/n was aiding Aether who was asleep she looked at his chubby cheeks and lips she stared at them before leaning in she peck his lips before sighing and kissing him with her tongue “Mhm..” Aether whimpered feeling Y/n kiss him Y/n kept kissing him feeling Aether grow excited “i-i feel something down there..” whimpered Aether Y/n smirked “I’ll help with that baby boy~” said Y/n.

•Aether doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing

•Aether loves your boobs he could sleep on them all day

•Aether loves pleasuring you, want to sit on his face? go ahead!

•Aether cries when overstimulated

•Aether cried when he did something wrong that hurt you also because he was embarrassed (ex: it was aether’s first time fingering you and he accidentally hit the wrong hole if yk)

•Aether loves to cum inside you it gets him excited for some reason

•He gets flustered when you give him a blow job

•He is a submissive boi.

(。-ω-)zzz… well im going to sleep bye bye

#genshin smut #sub venti #sub aether #venti smut #x reader

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kenmjiro · 8 months

Text

Innocent brat +18 | Carl Grimes (TWD)

Teen! Carl Grimes x ¡Adults! Fem Reader

TWS: NSFW, jealous! Reader, 18+ SMUT, dom/sub, oral sex, implied virgin!, inexperienced! Carl, lots of cum, overstimulation, drinking, Nude, age gap, raw sex, hormonal teen, obsession, exhibitionism, wet pussy.

From the porch of my house I watch the new survivors pass through the gates of Alexandria. They are a small group in which I see that they are carrying a baby... It has been so long since I have seen a baby. Unintentionally, a small smile sneaks onto my lips.

My brown eyes follow attentively as the new ones move through the streets and stop right next to my house. The one who looks like the teenager of the group repairs my presentation and makes a face. He is very pale and has a beautiful bluish look. I wink at him for fun and he soon looks away, totally embarrassed.

The next few days I spend watching him as if he were a crazy stalker, throwing him flirtatious glances and smiles that are not reciprocated.

Brats.

From time to time I approach those in his group and try to get along with some of them. The teenager's father trusts me right away and recommends that I be friends with his son Carl. She says he has a hard time making friends who aren't his age.

“I don't know, Rick,” I complain after seeing how his son greets us politely and goes into his house with the girl in his arms. “Your son is difficult, he doesn't talk to me much. On the other hand, with Jessie's children he has better communication. Even with Enid.”

Rick laughs and continues to stare at his hands.

“I think my son likes you.”

A little more and I spit out the coffee that the man has invited me. He laughs again and I feel ashamed as he hasn't done that in a long time. He was normally a straight-laced girl and I didn't care what people thought of me. But when Rick said Carl liked me, I felt a little intimidated.

“How old is he?”

“18”

A mocking smile comes to me and any trace of shyness evaporates into thin air.

“So I'm only two years older than him, interesting.”

“Why this sudden change?”

I shrug and take another sip of the sweet coffee.

“I thought he was smaller and that's why he treated him like Jessie's children. At first I thought about hitting on you but it seems like you're with Michonne, it's a shame you're not single. We wouldn't have had fun together” I raise my eyebrows repeatedly and show him an arrogant smile.

Rick laughs like a child at my joke and taps my head several times.

“You are very funny. I like you.”

“I know.”

Saturday arrives and the community leader informs us that there will be a party, there are no reasons, it will just happen and that's it.

“What could I wear today?” I ask Aaron.

The man looks at me curiously and goes into my room.

“That white jumpsuit is pretty, why don't you wear it?”

“I want something that's easy to take out.”

Aaron puts his hands over his mouth and lets out a little scream.

“Should I be afraid that my daughter is thinking about dirty things?”

He threw the first thing he found at his head and he quickly dodged it. I decided to live with Aaron and his boyfriend at the time they found me almost dying, they took care of me as if I were one of his family.

“I don't think about dirty things,” I complain, making a big childish pout. “It's just that I want to wear something comfortable. Besides, if I want to pee it will take me two years with the monkey and people outside will think I have diarrhea or something similar.

Aaron nods after letting out a thousand laughs and heads towards my closet.

“This is perfect.”

He smiled from ear to ear when he saw the blue ruffled dress. He accompanied the wardrobe with sandals and his hair down.

Once at the leader's house I talk about trivial things with people and from time to time I pretend to drink soda when in reality I drink beer as if it were water. I hated strong alcoholic beverages and beer suited me wonderfully with its flavor. I say goodbye to a neighbor who is boring me with a new recipe that she has discovered and I go out to the porch.

I turn my head and not far away I see Carl and Enid striking up a conversation. They seem to be having fun.

“You do not drink?” A voice asked behind me.

“Do you want a sip of my Coca Cola ?”

Rick shrugs and agrees to my request.

“Beer, huh?”

“Yep. I can't go through the holidays without a little alcohol in my system.”

I rest my hands on the railing and tilt my head toward the sky. The night is beautiful and refreshing. Rick accompanies me in silence while he sips his glass of unknown liquid.

I turn my eyes towards Carl for the umpteenth time and feel annoyed by the close proximity he has with Enid.

“I'm going to go to sleep,” I mutter and leave my empty can on the floor. “I'm kind of tired.”

Rick nods and bids me goodnight m. I go down the few steps and accidentally or out of drunkenness I give Carl a slight push.

“Be careful,” he warns, raising his voice.

I laugh very softly and continue down the road to my house. But I'm counting the steps because I don't feel like going in yet.

“You look like a turtle.”

I stop walking when I hear his voice and turn behind me.

“Oh wow, you know how to talk” I mock him and see the confusion in his eyes.

“Are you drunk?”

“My God, Carl Grimes, I really know how to talk.”

I come back I let out several laughs and decide to return to my path.

“You intimidate me.”

For the second time my feet stop

“That?”

Carl closes the distance and I feel dizzy again, I don't even know why I feel that way anymore. It's not that he drank too much either.

“Every time you try to talk to me I am unable to continue the conversation because you intimidate me”

“I don't mean to do that, Carl, I just want us to get along.”

“I know, but I don't know what's wrong with you. I get nervous when you're around, I feel like words get stuck on my tongue, that's why I don't want to talk. I.."

Fuck it. I closed the distance and with amazing speed he placed my hands on his shoulders, pulling him towards me. Carl looks at me and hesitates for a few seconds on what to do, he ends up placing his hands on my waist. The closeness is minimal and he can feel the warmth of his breath hit my face. The brat is so tall that he is almost a head taller than me.

“I like you, Carl, I like you a lot. And I don't know what you did to get it. Because you are not that handsome, even your father is and he is older.”

Carl laughs.

“You think I'm very handsome,” he says with a huge smile.

“Suddenly you're more confident,” he joked.

“He knows that I reciprocate, he gives it to me.”

Our noses collide as he leans in a little and I feel something stir inside me.

“And now is when you kiss me…” I whisper as I bury my fingers in his hair, it is long and soft. Wow.

Carl doesn't hesitate this time and he doesn't take long to place his thin lips on mine. We slowly move our heads and set a certain rhythm, while our tongues play timidly.

Since when haven't I kissed someone? Asking myself that question while I continue kissing Carl makes me think about other things. He becomes much more attached to my body and I try not to be surprised when I feel him moan into my mouth.

We're in an apocalypse so I suspect he hasn't had a girl his age to share fluid and that shit that hormonal people do. Yes, I am another. But I'm not going to say it out loud.

A gasp escapes my lips as Carl pulls away, nibbling on my lower lip.

I'm hot.

Ablaze.

“Do you want to come to my house?” He asked after thinking it over for a while. “No one will bother us.”

Who invites a boy to his house so quickly? Well, there are no rules to follow and I didn't think I would feel bad about it.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes and you?”

“If you want, so do I.”

Carl smiles and lets himself be guided to my beautiful home.

Once in my room, it doesn't take long for him to start the round of kisses again. He corners me against the wall and timidly touches part of my waist and butt.

“I haven't been with someone in a long time,” I admit without much shame, “so I hope you're a gentleman.”

Carl lets him touch me and places both hands on my cheeks.

“I am a Virgin.”

Holy shit.

“Am I going to be the first girl? I thought you had something going on with Enid.”

He quickly denies.

“She's just a friend, nothing more. And yes, you are going to be the first and I hope the last.”

She smiled tenderly and planted a kiss on his lips.

“Undress me and touch me. Don’t be afraid, Carl explore your curiosity.”

The boy licks his lips and directs his hands towards the straps of my dress. He lowers them slowly and with that, the dress falls to the floor. He looks with admiration at my body, which is still covered with my underwear.

“You're beautiful”

I don't feel self-conscious about looking at him or being exposed to him. I don't have to have a complex about my body, my big thighs, my stretch marks or my cellulite. After all, I love myself a lot, I'm a plus-size hottie and fuck stereotypes.

Carl smiles and closes the distance between us again. He kisses me slowly and asks me to undress him. My hands shake a little so he calms me down saying that there is no rush and that we have all the time in the world. He huffed and tried to calm me down, so he started to unbutton my plaid shirt. Carl takes off his shoes and lets me take off his pants.

We both were left in our underwear. Carl allows me to look at his body and what catches my attention the most is his prominent erection. Phew.

“What should I do?” He asks with his hands tilted to the sky.

He smiled.

“Take off my panties”

Carl squats down and reaches with both hands to the sides of my underwear, pulling them up and sliding them down my legs. I kick him away and try not to laugh at the shock on his face.

“Can I touch you there?”

Listening to his questions and noticing the innocence in each one turns me on more and I become moister in a surprising way. I swallow and nod my head, but it's not enough for him, he wants to listen to me.

“I already told you Carl, you can touch me.”

Carl knows I give him the green light and he begins to explore my most intimidating area. His fingers settle into my folds and he gently touches and rubs. I throw my head back before his inexperienced caresses, which turn me on very much.

“Oh fuck!” I squeal as soon as I feel his tongue slide right there.

I don't I hoped he would dare to jump in so quickly.

“I have hurt you? She asks, turning away from her with the look of a scared lamb.

“Is not perfect.”

Carl smiles sideways and I feel his confidence increase. He places his hands on my buttocks and buries his face against my center. He wails and tortures me.

I bury my fingers in his hair and pull him closer to me.

“Umh..yeah…like that…”

Carl increases his kissing and licking, making me lose my bearings.

“I'm going to cum if I keep it up, you have to enjoy it too.”

Carl's eyes light up and he soon stands up. I remove my bra without much thought and head towards my drawer to get a condom. I hand it to him and he looks at me doubtfully.

“Your sister is beautiful and very little, you wouldn't want her to be an aunt at that age, would you?”

He denies repeatedly and gets the message. Carl undoes his boxers and his erection points in my direction.

Let the fun begin.

He pulled his hand and motioned for him to sit on my bed. I kneel before him and ask him to open the package.

“Do you want to put it on or should I?”

“You do it”

I nod. He quickly slid the condom and after giving a couple of applause I sat up. My hands are placed on his shoulders and Carl holds my hips, so I can sit astride him. He grabbed his member and placed it gently over my entrance, he pushed my body down and took a few breaths to get used to the new sensation.

Carl snorts and throws his head back. I gain momentum and begin to take small jumps.

He digs the pads of his fingers into my buttocks and helps me push myself up, he releases me and I swallow his suddenly hard erection again. We repeat the same action several times and we both continue moaning. The only thing you can hear in the room is the clash of our bodies, our heavy breathing, our moans and the smell of sex.

“I love you…” he growls under his breath and plants a kiss on my lips.

I move from front to back, slowing down. Carl puts our foreheads together and a couple of minutes later he climaxes.

“You're quite a man now,” he joked, trying to catch his breath.

“Can we repeat as soon as I recover?”

Seat.

#fanfic #smut #carl grimes #kenmijiro #twd fanfiction #twd carl #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes smut #twd smut #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes fanfiction #fic writing #carl grimes twd #oneshot #the walking dead #the walking dead smut #carl grimes x you

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 10 months

Text

Blessed Are The Meek 3

Summary: you are trapped in an awkward circumstance with a widowed commander. (Handmaid AU)

Warning: this series will contain violence, dystopian aspects, rape and noncon, blood, coercion, sterility, and other dark elements. Please read these warnings and beware.

Character: Tommy Shelby

Note: thank you for following along. I’m sure yall didn’t expect to write Tommy again but here we are. Also feedback and comments if you dont mind. Maybe a reblog. 💕💕💕💕

You place the Commander’s bag in the trunk. Then, a thermos and a wrapped croissant for the drive. It’s a small consideration, you don’t know why you even thought of it. You just know that the drive will be long and tedious. You do not relish his return after the journey and the presence of similarly willful men.

You kick off your boots before you enter the house again. You shiver and lean a hand on the wall, lifting your foot to untie the laces. The commander’s footsteps come slow and deliberate down the stairs. You put your sole to the floor and face him, dipping your head.

As he approaches, you take his coat from the rack and offer it to him. Before, there would be another, the long blue jacket his wife so treasured, with its big rosette buttons and round collar. All blue had been buried away or burned to ash.

He lets you lift it onto his shoulder, barely acknowledging you as he pulls on a pair of black leather gloves. He slides out a pair of round glasses and puts them on. The sort he wears to read or tend to some smaller detail. He checks his watch.

“Do not dawdle” he girds as he approaches the door.

You furrow your brow and watch him pull it open. What does he mean? He pauses and lets out an exhale.

“Far be it from me to concern myself, but a coat would be in order,” he bids.

You still don’t understand. Surely he can’t mean you’re going with him.

“Commander?”

“You will sit in the backseat and keep your head down. A toe out of line and there will be more than enough Eyes to have you shipped out to a colony.”

You push your chapped lips together and nod. You don’t expect it and you are unprepared. He’d spoiled the rare moment of escape that tugged at your mind. A day without him and his temper lurking.

“I will get my coat, commander.”

He carries on and you march away. Your coat is in your room with all else that is allotted to you. Not much, enough to exist. A spare dress and apron, shoes for the summer, stockings, and a second shift. You snatch your coat and pull it on, flapping back through the halls to the front door.

As you come out, the car blows exhaust into the air. You get in the back seat and do as he said. You put your head down and don’t say a word. He has his foot on the pedal before you can even shut the door.

He drives with the radio on. A dour voice recites verses as you stare at the back of the front seat. The grey sky ripples, both dimming and paling to create and ebb and flow of light.

There is a soft clunk as the commander steers with one hand. The props the thermos in the cupholder and unscrews the cap. You quickly put your eyes to your lap. The smell of breakfast tea pervades the closed space.

You do not close your eyes. You could fall asleep right there but you don’t dare. Sloth is a sin, deadly as they say. You focus on keeping awake as the tires roll on.

The gates of the capital rise before you. You give only a brief peek as the commander stops to give his identity. He’s waved inside with a panicky sort of deference. Inside, you sense the sudden flurry around you but do not look up. You don’t expect many marthas come around here.

He pulls up to a building of stained white brick. You tilt your head slightly and try to figure where you are. He keeps the engine running as he gets out, greeted by another.

“Commander.”

“Take my car to the residence,” Shelby demands.

“Sir.” There’s a lull as footsteps click around the hood, “and the martha?”

“You may take her too,” Shelby says flippantly, “she will hang my clothes, as is her duty.”

The guardian doesn’t wait for another order. He gets in the front seat as you huddle lower in your seat. It isn’t unusually to be spoken as nothing more than a thing, but it is humiliating even so. The man fixes the mirror as you sense the tension of his unasked questions. It must be a strange situation, yet he cannot question a commander.

He shifts into drive and eases onto the gas. You clasp your hands tight in the silence. It does not seem as if you will return to the house that night and that worries you.

What could it mean? Hansen’s words echo in your head. Would the commander leave with a new wife at the order of the Committee? If there was to be a new wife, could she survive the widower’s grief?

#tommy shelby #dark tommy shelby #dark!tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #au #peaky blinders #series #blessed are the meek #drabble #handmaid au

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thefanficmonster · 3 months

Note

hii could i request a Seth Borden x gn!reader where the readers been teasing him abt being scared while they’re filming a haunted video and then they comfort him when he gets genuinely scared?? TYY

Hi sweetheart! Thank you so much for the request! I hope you enjoy the fic <3

Lots of love, Vy 💌

Safety Blanket

Pairing: Seth Borden x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Swearing, Ghostly activity, Paranormal Investigations

Genre: Fluff, Comfort, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: see request above

"What's up guys, it's Sam and Colby!" I mentally check out for a few seconds as Sam and Colby start filming the intro to their video as Seth and I idle around in the background. "Today, we'll be investigating one of the most brutal prisons in US history." Colby explains to the camera, turning to Sam to give him his cue.

"The Darkmont Correctional Facility in Huntsville, Alabama." The blond declares before turning off the. "We'll film the history segment inside, it's too windy out here. The audio will be a bitch to edit." He tells us, tilting his head to the entrance gates of the massive and downright terrifying building that has been abandoned for decades.

A shiver runs down my spine as I look up at it. Not so much out of fear, more so excitement. I was an urban explorer long before meeting and dating Seth, let alone Sam and Colby. I have a decent pile of trespassing charges under my belt but my adventures never included dabbling into the paranormal. It brings a whole new level of adrenaline to the table and it always makes for a remarkable experience, especially with these guys.

Seth, on the other hand, approaches the paranormal with much more skepticism and a ton more fear which I believe contradict one another - how can you be afraid of something you don't believe in? But alas, I don't fight him on it, I know it's pointless.

Messing with him, however, works like a charm.

I take my opportunity to do just that when I see him very visibly gulp as he takes in the exterior of the prison as we enter the courtyard past the giant metal gates the tour-guide left open for us.

"Someone's looking paler than usual." I poke his side with my finger, hitting a particularly ticklish spot that causes him to jump.

He grabs my hand, lacing our fingers together, "Not at all, I've seen worse." He shrugs, feigning nonchalance with a simple shrug even though I can clearly see the goosebumps on his skin.

"Whatever you say, babe." I mock him with a pout, dragging him along with me, forcing some speed in his steps to catch up with the guys.

The interior is infinitely worse than the exterior. It's stonewall, concrete and metal wherever the eye can see - which isn't much considering how dark it is. No lights are on, the only visibility being provided by the daylight seeping in through the barred up windows. It's a pretty cloudy day so there's not much of said daylight to go around either.

In short, it's the perfect atmosphere.

That's only confirmed further when I feel Seth's hand tightening its hold on mine, seeking the comfort he's too prideful to actually ask for.

"Welcome, yall." A deep voice with a southern drawl catches our attention out of the blue, startling us. Well, some more than others considering I didn't fail to pick on Seth's little jump out of the corner of my eye. I can't help but laugh, causing him to blush.

The voice belongs to our tour-guide Alan. He greets us each individually before starting the tour, telling us the stories stemming from this place. Sam, Colby and I take turns holding the main camera, capturing different angles as we walk through the eerie halls and cells. Seth tried helping out as well but his hands are too unsteady to get any usable footage so he's just taken to carrying the bag with the equipment and holding my hand as if I'm the scared one.

As the tour comes to an end, Alan turns off the lights he had turned on at the beginning, wishes us luck and sets off on his way, saying he hopes to see us all alive and well in the morning. It's the cherry on top of the terror cake he'd made with the history of the place as well as visitor horror stories. He gave us further proof of the paranormal activity in the place with pictures and recordings that Seth discreetly avoided looking at for too long.

The early hours of the night are upon us at this point and we've switched over to flashlights and the camera light to guide ourselves around the premises. Sam and Colby excuse themselves to the so called 'taming dungeon' to film the history segment for the video.

I walk around, looking at the marks on the stone walls while Seth remains rigid and jumpy in the middle of the large space that used to be a lobby. When I stray down the hall, following a trail of what I hope is paint on the wall, he jogs to catch up, prompting a laugh from me.

"Don't worry, babe. I ain't going anywhere. You're alright. The ghosts aren't coming to get you....yet." I add the last part with a low whisper and a tickle to the back of his neck. I've come to realize that defocusing his attention from the fear factor and instead move it to our banter is the best course of action. He'll never admit he's scared, so the best I can do is try and actually make him forget he's scared.

"Shut up..." He laughs, tickling my side as a counter-attack. "You're the worst."

I grin up at him, "Oh you love it."

Something tells me it's gonna be a pretty long night.

* * * *

"Is it just me or is it freezing in here?" Seth speaks up as we migrate from one floor onto the next after a brief investigation with the flashlights and other equipment. The spirits are talkative but dodged properly answering any of the questions we asked. They actually appeared to be talking amongst themselves more than us but it was still informative.

"I think it's cause you're a little bitch." Colby, who's also been put on edge by the activity we've gotten so far, replies. He masks his own fear by messing with the rest of us and I respect that. I'm doing the same.

"Oh fuck you!" Seth laughs, lightly punching his arm, "Y/N back me up here!"

Sam and I have already begun setting up the flashlights and REM pod so I'm partially distracted when I turn my head to look at the two. I glance between them, Colby giving me a fast nod. "Yeah, whatever Colby said." I shrug, evoking two completely different reactions from them.

As soon as we start, we are basically told to leave. We try to get a few questions in to try and ease up the tension but the spirit's opinion doesn't change - he wants us gone. And I can't blame him, if I died in this horrible place the last thing I'd want is to talk about it.

With that last group investigation we reach the audience favorite - and Seth's most dreaded - part: the solo investigations.

A game of rock-paper-scissors decides the areas we'd be covering: Colby takes the attic, Seth is on the second floor, I get the ground floor and Sam takes the basement somewhat voluntarily - something I greatly admire. We each take a piece of equipment with us and we split up.

"Hey..." I take Seth's hand before he follows Colby up the stairs, "I'm just a flight of stairs away. If you get freaked out, just call out to me, I'll meet you at these stairs, ok?"

He gives my hand a reassuring squeeze, and truthfully - I needed that. "I'll be ok, I hope. But the same goes for you. Anything happens, I'll be right down."

With a parting kiss, we each begin our investigations.

I, for some reason, chose the music box to be my piece of equipment. I've placed it at the beginning of the main hallway and take a seat in a fold up chair, turning on night vision on my camera.

"Here goes nothing. I'll be fine, I'm far more worried about Seth, he hasn't been handling the night very well..." just as I say that I hear a voice and my heart nearly drops in my ass. Turns out I haven't been handling it all too well either, considering Sam's faint voice was enough to send me into cardiac arrest.

I take a deep breath, willing myself to actually say something to the potential presence keeping me company at the moment. Just then, the music box whirrs to life, playing its creepy tune for a good couple of seconds, as if encouraging me. "Hi, are you here in the hall with me?"

The answer is almost immediate as the music box comes to life once more.

"Were you a prisoner here?" I ask once the tune has stopped playing. I get no answer so I try again, "A guard?"

There it is, I think as the music creepily bounces off the walls in the quiet space. Sam has walked to a different part of the basement because I can no longer hear him. It makes the situation much more eerie, makes me feel much more alone.

I throw out a few more questions with no outcome that can be considered content worthy so I begrudgingly decide to relocate to somewhere else on the floor. Just as I grab he music box to turn it off, I hear a huge crash from upstairs and a string of curses that quickly get louder, accompanied with footsteps approaching the staircase behind me.

I quickly flick on the camera light, illuminating Seth who gallops down the stairs with inhuman speed. I barely manage to catch him, placing my hands on his arms in order to slow him into a halt and stabilize him. He's shaking like a leaf, his eyes are wide and his face has reached a sickly shade of pale.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, what happened?" I ask as I pull him into a hug, "Hey, you're ok, you're ok. Everything's ok."

I see Sam peep his head up from the staircase, coming up from the basement, alerted by the noise. "What's wrong?" He asks as he jogs over to us. Colby is nowhere to be found, clearly oblivious to what happened.

"I...oh fuck...." Seth mutters, his breathing still heavy, "I mean, I got what I asked for. I wanted a clear sign and a door slammed shut. It freaked me the fuck out." He explains, still extremely shaken up but a bit calmer as he clings to me.

"Ok, ok, well that's great." I see the conflict on Sam's face, balancing between excitement over the footage Seth captured and worry for his friend. "Are you alright? Take a breather, stay here. I'll go grab Colby and we'll do the Estes method when you're ready." He says calmingly, his gaze fixating on me for rational and coherent responses but all I can do is nod, my full focus is taken up by Seth.

"Yeah, yeah I'm good. Holy shit, that was insane, though." He manages to say, tapping Sam on the shoulder, "Go get Colby."

I lead my boyfriend over to the chair I was previously occupying and sit him down, crouching in front of him, "You captured something incredible back there, babe. You're incredible!" My hands rest on his knees as I too still am wrapping my brain around what happened just now. "Whoever was there with you can't hurt you. You're stronger than them and you have authority. Hey, they might like you, even! I barely got anything down here. The spirits must really like you to shut a whole ass door for you." I'm rambling, I'm aware, but it seems to be working since Seth is smiling now, some color having returned to his cheeks.

He lets out a chuckle as he runs a hand through his hair, "Well, I am the distant relative of a murderer. That's gotta count for something." He says, making me laugh.

"That's what I'm talking about." I smile up at him, my thumb drawing abstract patterns on his knee, relieved to see he's feeling better already.

"Thank you." He adds after a stretch of silence, "You're like my safety blanket." His hand cups my cheek, automatically prompting me to lean into his touch immediately.

"Happily, babe." I slowly rise up so I can lean in and meet him halfway.

Just as our lips are within a millimeter, we hear pure disbelief echo off the walls as two pairs of footsteps rush down the stairs. "A fucking door slammed shut?!!" Colby shouts breathlessly, causing us both to burst out laughing.

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