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corvennite · 5 months

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— 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙮 𝙗𝙤𝙮𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙.

ˡᵉᵒⁿ ᵏᵉⁿⁿᵉᵈʸ ˣ ᶠᵉᵐ!ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

cw: dry humping, make out session, lightly submissive leon, fingering, hair pull, chocking, biting, marking, spitting, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (be safe).

sinopse: he just wants a taste of his pretty girlfriend.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

To be with Leon it meant you had to make the best of your time together, he was always sent away on some stupid mission which left you there: alone and sad waiting for your pretty boyfriend. He arrived at the beginning of the week, you couldn't keep your hands to yourself not even when the poor man only needed a rest.

Well, it was basically the same for him too.

Sitting on his lap, the movie on TV with screams of agony and bloody scenes — horror at its finest, which you choose to cuddle up with, to have an excuse to be cradled in his strong arms when scared. Leon's hands were down to your bottom barely covered by the oversized shirt he gave to you, his lips crashed down to yours god knew for how long, hips sometimes squirming by the way you moved against his.

"you're so needy, hm..." you murmured against his lips, smiling while he whined against your mouth again.

"and you— fuck, you're a tease."

The good thing about him being away for too long, it was how touch starved he became. How needy and messy Leon could be. You could feel him hardening underneath you, his eyes fluttering when he pulled a bit away and kissed down your cheek, jawline, side of your neck and collarbones. He made a mess against your skin, a little bit under the ear lobe as he tucked in between his teeth and bit it down, slowly putting his lips to work on it too.

His fingers moved back up, to your wrist when you tried to grab his hair, trying to pull him away. Your eyes narrowed as his breath tickled softly over the sensitive part of your neck, he pressed the hand on your hips further digging the short nails against it.

"stop moving." he hissed, his lips coming back all the way up, stopping on your jawline. "open your mouth."

"or what?" of course you had to be a little bit of a brat, smiling at him and biting down your lip.

Leon on the other hand, chuckled a bit and when you realized, his hand was up on your neck pressing the fingers firmly and lightly against your pulse. The way he tilted your head side to side, looking into your eyes made you shiver, legs clenching a little and oh boy, he could feel it!

"open."

You did as he said, not earning even a 'good girl' from him but a bit of his spit inside your tongue. It was messy, he smiled looking at you, his thumb moving towards your lips and smudging it all while your eyes looked at him in admiration. Leon moved his fingers from your ass to your inner thigh, grazing softly and teasing only with the tips. His eyes moved from your mouth to your neck, he made sure to give you a few more marks under your shoulder blades, up to your neck and kiss behind your ear. It was fun, how responsive you could be, hips squirming softly even if you tried to hold it when he moved his digits in and out your thighs, how he ghosted his thumb against your covered clit. He made sure to cover your core with his whole hand, it fit.

"you're so wet, jesus." he said feeling his own cheeks flush a little, your pleasure meant a lot to him. "c'mon baby..."

With ease, Leon moved your panties to the side and adjusted you on his lap where you were impossibly closer to him. Your covered breasts near his face now, his legs more spread as he caressed your cunt with his fingers, gosh, they were so thick and long, he had such a pretty hand... Your mind wandered too much, moaning in a low tone with his tease and holding his shoulders, hands going towards his neck as you moved your right one to the edge of his short undercut.

"L-Leon, just... Fuck, just put them inside." you hissed, biting down your lower lip as his thumb made you even more sensitive.

"you're just so pretty like this."

He kept looking at you, the way you moaned and your hips moved up a little bit while feeling the whole pleasure. Leon plugged two fingers inside you, which caused you to moan and tilt your head back. His movements were soft at first, listening to the way you whined and squirmed around them, clenching too.

"shh, it's okay, you can take two... It's nothing for you." he taunted, pumping the digits in and out so damn slowly.

The way your back arched softly, how beautiful you looked riding his fingers only for him to brush the thumb against your clit. Sore and almost too sensitive, making you gasp and bite down your lower lip. Leon loved the way your body answered to his ministrations, how he leaned down to nip against your neck and leave a mark you surely would complain if looked at the mirror and noticed. He owned you. Your fingers grasped around his wrists, he forced his hand more and curled the tip of his fingers inside your cunt, gushing around him making soft noises.

“fuck you– I can’t.” you moaned, erupting as he thrusted deeper.

“hm?” he taunted.

The way your eyes narrowed and squinted when he moved only a bit deeper, how your hips buckled against his fingers and the grip on his wrists tightened up, he smiled. He loved to see how you came so beautifully around his fingers, how much of a flushed mess you could become only by that, not even ten minutes past!

Your breathing was a bit heavy, a good feeling of peace took over you as you came down making you close your eyes. Only the sound of a belt being unbuckled got to your ears, narrowed eyelids observing the way the blonde got barely rid of his pants and boxers. God, he was deliciously thick, one vein popping up and the tip red with pre cum.

“fuck, I need this pussy…” he muttered, pulling you by the hips, gripping tight.

“and I need this dick– fuck…”

His head slid inside so easily, he felt the way you clenched around him and it made the poor man flush around the cheeks. Leon sank down your cunt, seeing the way your legs bent over your chest a bit, how you wanted him by the way your soft fingers pulled him by the waist.

“eyes up here, baby.” you muttered in between a moan, making him look up.

Leon grabbed your waist, thumbs and fingers digging deep into your skin as he thrusted, so damn sensitive each movement made him moan and god, his moans were divine to hear. So whiny and needy, you loved such sounds. His hips moved slowly at first, he felt like he was crumbling and the way you clenched around him did no good for his mind.

“hm? can’t take a girl anymore?” teasing, you buckled your hips against his cock, moaning.

“s–shut up, you’re fuckin’ squeezing me.”

A part of you wanted to laugh, but it was a bit late when he got the rhythm and his hands were like a vice to your skin. His head tilted backwards as he fucked like a needy man because that’s what he was, skin slapping against each other filling the apartment with filthy sounds besides your pretty moans and his grunts. Leon looked down at you, blue eyes going dark as he moved his hand to your throat and wrapped around it, leaning down putting you in a matting press, lips closer to yours as he seemed so damn hungry.

“fuckin beautiful, you’re fucking– beautiful.” he grunted at each thrust.

Leon saw stars when you wrapped your legs around him, his waist being pulled down and making your neck get more squeezed than ever. He kissed down your swollen lips and bit it down, he couldn’t care less for the mess you both were making, how it was so slickly in between your thighs and how he was losing control over himself. He didn’t even warned you when he desperately pulled out, pumping himself and groaning as he came on your belly, soft fingers loosening on your neck and moving to caress your hips and waist. You looked up at him, glazed and with a smirk.

“already?”

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

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neckromantics · 5 months

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Astarion loves to take baths with you.

It's one of his favorite ways to spend his downtime in general, honestly. Not only is the bath such a soothing place to be (you know once this man has the option, he's going to splurge on a vast collection of luxury soaps, oils, hair masks, and body scrubs- the list goes on.), but there's just something about it that makes him feel so normal? Mortal, almost.

If he lets himself soak just long enough, the heat from the water begins to nullify the vampiric chill that he's grown ever so used to. It's a pleasant warmth that works its way past pale skin- past tired muscles and aching sinew- and settles down deep into his very bones. For a few precious moments, he can convince himself that the eternal discomfort of undeath has made off for good this time.

And his hair always looks spectacular after wash day. It's a win-win scenario for him. So for his favorite person to be involved as well? Well, that just makes it all the more better.

This time, you're lounging on the floor nearby as he soaks- having stuck around after washing his hair for him as he oh-so-kindly requested of you. He's still a bit new at asking for small acts of kindness, so of course, you jumped at the chance to put your hands to good use. You were so careful not to catch your fingers on any snags as you worked a sweet-smelling soap through his wet curls, nails scrubbing away at his scalp even after it's all rinsed away just to hear him purr for you.

You're leaning against the bath, cheek cushioned against your forearm as it rests along the edge. The other swirls idly in the water- kept heated by clever use of prestidigitation (you'd recently picked up this cantrip for purposes such as this) and softened by the finest oils stolen gold could purchase. The curtains in your room are carefully drawn, and although your source of light comes from the multitude of candles scattered about, it's still enough to see the nice flush the heat brings to his skin. It's a little odd to see him so pinkened, and obviously, you can't help but stare no matter how hard you try not to.

It's the blood- your blood- that's pooling beneath the surface of his skin and giving him this radiance that many a man would covet.

Rose blooms a pretty bouquet on the smooth skin of his chest, up the length of his bared throat as he rests his head, and even reaches the tips of the pointy ears you so adore. Gods, even his knuckles are pinker when he reaches a hand out of the water to push his hair away from his forehead, and your gaze immediately follows the trail of soapy water as it glides down his wrist- drip-drops from his elbow and back into the bath.

Astarion looks so... peaceful like this.

Pale lashes rest upon warm cheeks as he reclines, face fallen soft, similar to how it does when he's deep in trance. A part of you wonders if this is how he might have looked back some two hundred years ago, before the affliction that was bestowed upon him by his old (now deceased, you celebrate mentally) master.

Eyes of ruby open just a crack, and you know that smug smile is coming before his lips so much as twitch.

"You know, my dear, most people consider staring to be rather rude." He purrs.

You're proud to say you don't miss a beat.

"Good thing you're nothing like most people then, hm?" Quick wit- a developing side effect from the many days spent traveling with the cheekiest rogue in all of Faerûn.

Quick as you may be– he is quicker.

"Ah, right you are. Most people aren't nearly as beautiful as I am– one can hardly blame you for all of your slack-jawed gawping."

A half-huffed laugh is pulled out of you. Astarion loves to pretend he isn't just as delighted by your glossy-eyed admiring as he is amused.

And here you are again, suddenly distracted by the slightest bounce of silver curls when he tilts his head to watch your smile hit your eyes. His hair looks a bit longer when it's weighed down by bathwater and conditioning oils, almost to the point where some bits just barely brush his shoulders. You're so mesmerized that you have to touch him. The hand that's been playing in the water comes up to brush a few nearly translucent hairs away from where they've stuck to the curve of his neck, lingering afterward to carefully trace a finger down to his collarbone as you continue your oggle-fest.

Only just a moment longer, you tell yourself, and then you'll leave him be.

Yet, he doesn't let you pull away too far when you've finished. A deft hand comes up from the depths to capture yours the second you think about leaving him to his privacy, and you nearly jump at the unfamiliar temperature of its grasp.

He's warm.

Almost warmer than you, and it's honestly kind of jarring.

Astarion's still sporting that smile, although a bit kinder than before. If you weren't watching so closely, you'd miss how his eyes flash, uncharacteristically shy for just a moment before that heavy-lidded stare is set back in place. He brings your joined hands up to his mouth, petal-soft lips resting against the damp heel of your palm in a not-so-kiss.

They press for a long moment, and you can feel the appreciative hum he gives more than you can hear it. It occurs to you that he's probably just as dazed at your matching temperatures as you are.

"Get in here, darling." The command comes out as more of a question, really. You know in your heart that you have every right to refuse him if you really want to and that he wouldn't even consider holding it against you if you did.

But why in the hells would you ever do a thing as silly as that?

#bg3 #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion headcanons #astarion #astarion fic #astarion fluff

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mo0nfairy · 11 months

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ᥫ᭡ . # ۫ , ⸺ LET YOU BREAK MY HEART AGAIN !

summary :: together in blissful matrimony, miguel o'hara has never felt true happiness until he was by your side. when you're unexpectedly taken from him, he'll do anything in his power to avenge your death. what he doesn't expect is to find you during that process. or, at least, one version of you.

word count :: 2.9k

content warnings :: obsessive!miguel, yandere!miguel, death, deafness (reader is deaf & mute in one reality), spiders, marriage, gore, grief, noncon touching, drugging (venom is put into readers system).

authors note :: Y/H/N = your hero name.

miguel o'hara's yandere traits are . . .

smothering, territorial, & paranoid

──── The gentle melody of piano and harp paint the room in an array of romantic hues. Snow drifts through the Winter air from outside the frozen windows of the venue. Family and friends stand around and admire the beautiful scene before them. You're adorned head-to-toe in white, like an angel who had just descended from the clouds. Miguel is dressed in the finest suit he searched high and low for to ensure it was perfect for this day. However, he knows no one is paying attention to him when you look as breathtaking as you do. His rough-skinned, yet gentle-mannered hand rests on your lower back, the other interlocking your hands together. With your head resting against his shoulder, he sways your body along to the gentle hum of music pervading the air.

Your first dance.

The golden light from the chandelier above serves as a spotlight for you and Miguel. Feeling his chest begin to shake, you move your head to look him in the eye. Tears of sheer happiness were cascading down his cheeks and a weak smile is plastered on his face. You swear that if you were to look up 'devotion' in a dictionary, the way he is looking at you would take up the entire page.

Miguel briefly disentangles his constricted hold on your hand to express his current, overwhelming feelings. He points his middle and ring finger down, the rest of the digits left pointing up. "I love you," that is what he is telling you. When he had first learned you were deaf, he spent his nights studying ASL and SSL in order to communicate with you. However, that single symbol is the one he always finds himself reverting to when all other signs and words fail him. I love you, I love you, I love you. Although Miguel won't express it verbally, he will express the three words through his hands for as long as he lives.

And Miguel remembers the best day of his life just as much as the worst day.

Just one month after you had both gleefully tied the knot, the two of you had gone on a stroll through Nueva York. The moon hangs heavy in the sky and darkness settles against the faint streetlights. Miguel made the vow to always protect you and you've found it to be comforting, relaxing. After a whole lifetime of being deaf and mute, you knew that you were far more vulnerable than others. Knowing you have the Spiderman as your husband causes your concern of any potential assailants to fade away. It's evident in the way his grip on your waist tightens when passerbys walk by and the perceptible shift in his eye when someone stares at you for a little too long.

You've always known he wouldn't let anything happen to you.

The following events all happen quicker than either of you can think. Just as you're crossing the bridge that overlooks the entire city in all its glory, a sudden black hole forms, framed with iridescent hues and overwhelming force. The power of the portals sudden appearance causes the bridge to vibrate beneath your feet. Screams of terror from pedestrians falling to their death goes unbeknownst to you as Miguel holds you against him with constricted tension and hides your face in his chest. The man you have chosen to spend the rest of your life ignores his duty of being the city’s superhero. All in favor of your life.

The remnants of the platform you stood on soon crumble. The red glare of Miguel’s web shoots from his wrist, to where it wraps itself around one of the numerous pillars spread upon the bridge to ensnare you further. But it was so quick, the way you slip from his tenacious grasp. Almost as if someone had forcefully snatched you from him. Innocent civilians shout and plead for Spiderman to save them, but Miguel can't hear them over the thumping of his own heartbeat. Even if he were to hear them, it would not stop him from tearing this entire city asunder in order to get to you.

He forms his hand into the same sign he uses to say 'I love you' and another blaring-red web, the same hue as his panic, springs from him and down to wrap itself around your body. He's done this a million times for others and saved the lives of practically everyone in the city. But, this is you. Miguel is digging his claws into crumbled pieces of the wreckage and shoving them through the air as if they were merely nothing, all in favor of saving you. However, you're both picking up speed and accelerating closer and closer and closer to the unforgiving ground. He latches his talons into a protruding pipe caused by the chaos and clings tight to the web connecting you with him, watching in trepidation as you continue to fall. Attempting to pull the web towards him and bring you back into his arms, where you belong, his efforts were futile.

A loud crack! permeates and his world falls apart.

Practically faster than light, Miguel is pummeling to the ground and to where you now lay. Your chest is flat with no breath and your body is lifeless. Blood is caked on your skull and it cascades onto the pavement beneath you. He rushes to your side, a mantra of ‘no’’s invading the dead, silent air. His heart is paralyzed in his chest as reality sinks into his bones. Desperate pleads escape through loud, violent sobs, begging for you to just open your eyes, hold your hand up, and tell him 'I love you, too'. He knows you cannot hear him, he knows this. But, this does not stop him from begging you, begging God, begging the universe, begging anyone to not do this to him, to not take away the only thing that has ever mattered to him. The only thing that has ever made him happy.

He'll never forget how he had stayed there for hours, ensnaring your lifeless body in his arms as the night faded into dawn. He'll never forget when he left you through brute force and was sent back to the desolate building he could only call home when you were in it. He'll never forget how he had spent days upon days studying the sudden black hole that formed and declared to destroy whoever caused it. The person responsible had taken you from him and if every soul in the galaxy has to pay in order for him to avenge the only one he loves, then so be it.

A year had gone by and every second without you become more tortuous than the last. Things that made him once glisten with joy only make his empty heart lurch with grief. Miguel is now present in the Spider-Society, desperate to manipulate any and all sources to eradicate who had so selfishly taken you from him. He'll just have to endure the yapping teenage-spiders that push at his buttons for the time being. All for you, he reminds himself.

At times, unbeknownst to Miguel, he'll start mumbling your wedding vows under his breath in front of the other spider-people to ease his mind. He knows it by heart; he will never forget it. They may all stare in disturbed confusion, but to mention your name to a man like him would be nothing short of a death sentence. "It's a soft spot, don’t poke it" Jess informs the others.

When the day is finally over and his everlasting efforts were brought to no avail, Miguel will return to the house you had planned on spending the rest of your lives in. Together. All life has been sucked out of the property. The wedding photos scattered about the premise have been derelict with shattered glass after enraged fits. The 'Just Married!' paint still sits on his car and decays with age, but he refuses to ever scrub it off. Your wedding ring, wedding dress/suit, and flower bouquet sit in indestructible cages he operated to preserve them. He fidgets with the wedding ring he vowed to never take off as he wallows in the despair of his silent home. If only he had been quicker; if only he hadn't been so weak.

The video of you dancing in matrimonial bliss ends and the monitor shuts off faster than Miguel could even blink.

The hefty, metal doors to the headquarters open to where several spider-people enter, pantomiming dramatically about the success of their previous missions. Their sudden appearance startles him, to where he demands to know why Lyla hadn't informed him of the spiders' incoming. Jess then enlightens him on his strict rule he set to not disturb him whenever your face is on screen. He exhales with a sigh of defeat and prepares himself for the onslaught of mayhem that would soon come his way. This time, however, a new recruit has joined the group.

Full-body suit hiding any form of physical identity and a soft voice that rarely comes out, Y/H/N from Earth-555 was requested to join the team by Jessica Drew herself. And Miguel couldn't care less if he tried. He'll let another spider on the team if it means keeping the multiverse stable and fueling his progress to one day finally kill the one responsible for your demise. Still, something allures him about this new recruit. Their real name and face are left a mystery to him, but there are certain moments with this stranger where he can't but be reminded of you. That soft voice and heedful hearing prevent him from fully indulging in your memory, but there are certain tics and habits they possess that catch him off guard.

The way you tap your feet when you’re focused, the way you scratch your wrists when you’re anxious, and the way you fidget with the hem of your clothes when you’re bored. And this is what life had been like for a while. Staring at the countless monitors that display a myriad of different information until his brain rots and returning hole to bathe in his misery until the next day repeats.

Several months into Y/H/N's time here is when the doors to the headquarters slam open and several spider-people all clamor in. All were breathless and bruised from a mission that ended messily. The new hero is in the mayhem, as well, exasperated as they rest against the wall. Miguel rolls his eyes at the sudden intrusion and leaves his spot at his desk to find out what these idiots had done now. They all scramble to defend themselves and point their finger at one another, while that new recruit is still trying to catch their breath in the corner. Pathetic. They should know by now that the sake of the multiverse can't afford even a minor mistake. Seeing them left so weak after a fight causes a dry laugh to escape his throat.

Their gloved fingers then grasp hold of the hem of their mask, before forcefully yanking it from their head. And it is like a miracle had materialized right before Miguel's eyes.

His stomach drops at the sudden intrusion of emotions. Shock, elation, disbelief, infatuation. Y/H/N, Earth-555's Spiderman, is his Y/N. You stand before him as you did all those years ago. Despite the dirt and blood smothered into your exposed skin, Miguel thinks you look almost as beautiful as you did when you walked down the aisle.

All you do is clench your eyes shut and try to wait for the pain in your abdomen to ease. The clattering arguments of the others only add fuel to the flame that is your suffering. Soon, there is a sudden wave of silence that washes over. Even with the agony coursing through your body, you were still able to catch the abrupt shift in the atmosphere. You open your eyes to find the man you had feared most, Miguel O'Hara, treading towards you and towering over you with his large figure. Paralyzed with fear, you had jumped to the conclusion that you had enranged him in some way. The terror is so overwhelming, you completely miss the sheer look of love in his eyes and how his pupils had morphed into the shape of a heart.

Eventually, you gain control of your numb body and make a break for it. Pain pumps like a drug through your damaged body, but you persevere and use every sliver of strength left in you to run from him. You're running through the city, dodging past all the numerous spider-people, and webbing through different buildings to escape this maniac of a man. During this, your name and demands for your return are shouted profusely. You don't have time to acknowledge how on Earth he had found out what your actual name was.

Mistakenly, you take a quick glance over your shoulder and almost shiver with fear at the sight alone. Miguel is barrelling after you on all fours like some sort of fucking animal, with fangs and claws out and all. Broken glass protrudes into his limbs from the numerous windows and walls he barreled through. Blood seeps through the torn cuts of his suit, exposing his bruised skin. The excess of vermillion webs clutters the complex from his frivolous attempts at retrieving you. It is utterly terrifying.

Somehow in the midst of chaos, you had found yourself back in the headquarters. The 'Go-Home Machine' practically calls out for you with its luminescent hues. You hear the muffled shouts of your name and the thumping of racing footsteps. In an attempt to use your webs for faster travel, you realize that during your chase, you had entirely run out of web fuel. Shit. From here, you resort to using your legs for once and practically throw yourself into the machine. The translucent spider above uses its limbs to piece together bits of the portals' walls as if it were merely stacking legos. Hope pokes at your brain, but you don't dare let yourself think the storm had washed over just yet. A deafening crash then permeates through the headquarters.

"STOP THEM! NOW!" The echo sends a chill straight into your bones. You watch the machine sputter with increased energy and hope that with enough time, this predator on your tail will find something else for dinner.

Miguel springs into the air as if he were weightless, before landing above you on the thick facade while it buzzes from heightened energy. You have nothing but this wall to protect you from this absolute rabid dog. Sheer trepidation caresses your skin with it's ice-cold touch as he attempts to claw through the membrane of space and time protecting you.

He is bone-chillingly terrifying as he slams all the strength in his body against the barrier. It becomes increasingly difficult for him to keep his grasp on the machine as it continues to charge with intensifying energy. This does not halt his efforts, though. If anything, Miguel has now become increasingly aggressive as the prospect of you leaving him again becomes more profound. The technology whirs from every punch and thrash Miguel gives in order to get to you. Static bolts of energy protrude the air like lightning bolts when he is finally able to tear a hole through the surface, eyes wide and crazed like some sort of beast.

In an attempt to stop him, you try and piece together the chunks of radiation that had been discarded from his unwanted entry. Upon doing so, Miguel is finally able to reach through the opening and dig his talons into your wrist. Your escape was right at the edge of your fingertips, but now you have been flung straight into the jaws of this monster. You splat harshly against the ground and with the state your body was now in, you knew for certain you could not fight anymore.

However, you don't even have a mere second to think of leaving anymore. Not when this vampire-spider has you pinned to the floor with ease faster than you could produce a single thought. He begins to shush you like a baby while you fight and thrash at his chest. His large hand cups your cheek with the same softness you would use to handle a kitten, while the other utilizes his strength to restrain your body.

"I got you! I got you back with me!" The pitch in his voice had raised as he pours his heart out to you. "I never thought I would see you again, but you’re here. My Y/N, you’ve come back to me…” Red eyes are blown wide and they practically stare daggers into you. All as if you were some sort of prey.

The only thing his words do justice in is confusing you further. What you had perceived before as anger was actually... Desperation? Relief? Love? This man has never spoken a single word to you for the entirety of your several months spent in the complex. You are perplexed as you try to think of what had triggered him to suddenly act this way towards you.

"I will never let anything happen to you again... Just let me under your skin..." Miguel's lips find their way down to your ear as he whispers to you the same way a lover would. The entire moment is so deranged, it makes you shudder with horror.

His teeth then sink into the nape of your neck as if his fangs were two needles. With a yelp, you feel warm blood escape and seep down your flesh. Something new swims through your bloodstream that was induced by his bite. Your body begins to fail you and lethargy envelops you like a warm blanket. And this man is like goddamn Dracula, slurping and drinking every last drop of your delicious essence. His calloused hands savor the feel of your body against his and he indulges in how much he had missed this, missed you. With a final, feeble attempt to defend yourself against your assailant, you're soon enveloped into a deep slumber within Miguel's embrace.

⁺ 🎧 , 🪷 ۫ you are currently listening to . . . ⁺ 🪺 , 🎵 ꪆ

❝ ONE DAY, I WILL STOP

FALLING IN LOVE WITH YOU . . . ❞

i wrote this all in one sitting after an all-nighter please bare with me lmao.

did you guys also know that the pupils of his eyes canonically turn into hearts?

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basset-babe · 8 days

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five times: the one point five.

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

warnings: none but gossip yet again

word count: 2.9k+

a/n: please do send me a message or comment down if you would like to be added on the succeeding taglists for the five times series! here is 1.5 times with ben. enjoy! thanks loves <3! (also, pls do imagine ben holding a graft rose for this one heh)

five times series: the first. the one point five. the second. the third. the fourth. at last. text divider from @heavenlayt and pattern banner from @cafekitsune thank you!

the one point five time.

In the hours of sunlight, callers have flooded the Y/L/N drawing room. All bringing gifts and performances in hopes to win the favourable yes of the season's paragon, Miss Y/N Y/L/N. The grand parlor, adorned with exquisite tapestries and sparkling chandeliers, buzzed with the lively hum of conversations and the tinkling laughter of society’s elite. Lavish bouquets of rare, fragrant flowers filled the room, their heady scent mingling with the aroma of freshly brewed tea and delectable pastries arrayed on silver platters.

Gentlemen, dressed in their finest attire, lined up to present their offerings to Miss Y/L/N, each one more extravagant than the last. Some brought intricate jewelry, glittering with precious stones, while others offered rare books, hoping to appeal to her reputed love of literature. Musicians performed virtuoso pieces on the grand piano, their fingers dancing over the keys in a bid to capture her attention through the power of melody. Poets recited verses composed in her honor, their words dripping with adoration and longing.

Miss Y/L/N, the epitome of grace and poise, received each suitor with a warm smile and a gracious word. Her eyes, sparkling with intelligence and kindness, moved across the room, acknowledging the efforts and intentions of each visitor. Her charm was such that even a simple nod or a softly spoken thank you felt like a cherished treasure to the eager suitors.

The hour had struck past 1 in the afternoon when, hopefully, the last caller of the day had bid his farewells. The Y/L/N drawing room, which had been a whirlwind of activity, now began to settle into a quieter, more contemplative atmosphere. The sunlight streaming through the large windows cast a bright hue over the room, highlighting the opulent furnishings and the array of gifts that had been presented to Miss Y/N Y/L/N throughout the morning.

Servants moved gracefully, clearing away the remnants of the lavish spread of refreshments while ensuring that every detail of the room remained immaculate. The air was still fragrant with the scent of roses, lilies, and other exotic flowers that had been brought by admirers, creating a heady, almost intoxicating environment.

"As much as I do love botanicals, all these flowers have turned obnoxious to my senses, Grandmama," Y/N sighed, feeling the urge to slouch on the couch. Her frame was poised elegantly despite her weariness, a testament to her upbringing and the endless etiquette lessons she had endured.

Her grandmother, the Viscountess Y/L/N, reentered the room with a look of satisfaction mixed with maternal concern. "My dear," she said softly, "you have conducted yourself admirably. The attention you have garnered is truly remarkable, but alas, this be the trials of being the season's paragon," she said with jest. "A small price to pay for such adoration and the opportunities it presents."

Y/N allowed herself a small, rueful smile. "It has been a most eventful day. I do hope I have shown the proper appreciation to each caller." She gently plucked a stray petal from her gown, its soft texture a stark contrast to her current mood.

"Rest assured, my dear, that this too shall pass," her grandmother replied soothingly. "Soon, you will look back on these days with fondness, perhaps even in laughter."

Y/N nodded, though she wasn't entirely convinced. She admired her grandmother's ability to see the positive in any situation. Lady Y/L/N had once been the toast of her own social season, and her wisdom was hard-earned through years of navigating similar waters.

"Would it be terribly improper to open a window, Grandmama?" Y/N asked, her eyes drifting towards the heavy drapes that concealed the afternoon breeze. "I believe a bit of fresh air might revive my spirits."

The Viscountess chuckled softly. "Not at all, my dear. In fact, I think it would do us both good." She motioned to a nearby maid, who quickly moved to pull back the drapes and open the window, allowing a refreshing breeze to sweep into the room. The cool air carried with it the scents of the garden outside, a welcome contrast to the overwhelming floral arrangements within.

Y/N took a deep breath, feeling instantly more at ease. "Thank you, Grandmama. That is much better."

"Now, my dear," Mrs. Y/L/N said, her tone becoming more serious, "while you have a moment of peace, tell me—was there any caller today who truly caught your eye?"

Y/N considered the question carefully. There had been many suitors, each with their own merits. Some had been charming, others earnest, and a few rather boastful. But it was not that she minded all these suitors; it was who she looked forward to that truly occupied her thoughts. It had been this Bridgerton man she'd hoped would be calling on her the entire morning. Unfortunately, he had not been seen yet in this drawing room.

"Y/N, my dear, are you still with us?" Lady Y/L/N's gentle voice broke through her reverie.

"Yes, Grandmama," Y/N replied, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. "I was merely thinking."

"About anyone in particular?" her grandmother inquired with a knowing smile.

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then decided there was no point in hiding her thoughts from her perceptive grandmother. "To be quite honest, I was hoping to see Mr. Bridgerton today.. well as of this morn," she admitted. "I fear he may have been otherwise engaged."

"Ah, Mr. Bridgerton," Lady Y/L/N said thoughtfully. "A fine young man, from a respected family. It is no wonder you look forward to his call. Perhaps he will still make an appearance."

Y/N nodded, though she knew the likelihood was slim as the noon wore on. She took another deep breath of the fresh air now circulating through the room, trying to shake off her disappointment. The season was long, and there would be other opportunities to see him again.

"There was Sir Nicholas Deveraeux. He was quite charming," Y/N remarked.

"He comes from a good family as well, but I've heard his uncle," Her grandmother leaned in conspiratorially, "envies the crown."

Y/N laughed at the Viscountess' antics. "Grandmama, that's quite scandalous. Wherever did you hear such a thing?" Y/N laughed.

"Deborah told me," her grandmother said, motioning to her maid. Y/N couldn't help but laugh at the notion of her grandmama indulging in gossip. "But I must tell you, I keep my options open still," she stated matter-of-factly, regaining my composure.

"Even though you are clearly captivated by Mr. Bridgerton's smile," Her grandmother teased. "It is wise to keep your options open, my dear, so as not to appear too eager for any one gentleman's attentions."

"Indeed," Y/N thought to herself, "it is prudent not to seem desperate and helpless this early in the season. After all, the season is just beginning, and there will be many more opportunities for maybe much more meaningful encounters."

The older woman patted the young lady's hand reassuringly. "You are a clever girl, my Y/N. Your charm and grace will surely attract many suitors. Just remember to enjoy the process and not to place all your hopes on one gentleman, no matter how enchanting his smile may be."

Y/N nodded, feeling a renewed sense of determination. The season was an adventure, and she was ready to embrace it with an open heart and mind. As her grandmama said, there would be many chances to find the right match, and she intends to savor every moment.

Just as she was about to resign herself to the wait, a soft knock sounded at the drawing room door. Both Y/N and her grandmother turned their heads in surprise as the butler entered.

"Forgive the interruption, ma'am," he said with a slight bow. "But there is one more caller who has just arrived."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat as the butler stepped aside, revealing none other than Mr. Bridgerton himself. He stood at the threshold, his confident demeanor softened by a warm, sincere smile.

"Good afternoon, Lady Y/L/N, Miss Y/L/N," he greeted them, bowing respectfully. "I apologize for my tardiness. I hope I am not intruding."

Lady Y/L/N's eyes twinkled with amusement as she replied, "Not at all, Mr. Bridgerton. We are delighted to see you."

Y/N felt her spirits lift instantly, her earlier fatigue forgotten. "Indeed, Mr. Bridgerton," she said, her smile reflecting the genuine pleasure she felt. "Your timing is impeccable."

Mr. Bridgerton's eyes met hers, and for a moment, it felt as though they were the only two people in the room. "I am glad to hear that, Miss Y/L/N," he said. "I have been looking forward to our meeting."

As he stepped further into the room, bringing with him an air of warmth and possibility, Y/N knew that this visit was just the beginning. The season held many uncertainties, but in that moment, with Mr. Bridgerton's presence brightening the drawing room, she felt a renewed sense of hope and excitement for what was to come.

He walked closer, offering his wrapped gift with a warm smile. "I know of your love of botanicals. Although, I wasn't sure what to get, but I opted for a grafted Rosa Falstaff from our estate's own gardens."

Y/N's eyes widened with surprise and delight as she reached out to accept the potted rose. "A Rosa Falstaff? From your family's gardens?" she exclaimed, her fingers gently tracing the leaves and delicate blooms.

"Yes," Benedict nodded, his gaze softening as he watched her reaction. "I thought it would be a fitting addition to your collection, considering your fondness for floriculture."

"Thank you, Mr. Bridgerton. This is truly truly thoughtful of you." Y/N's eyes lit up as she accepted the graft, appreciating the gesture.

Mr. Bridgerton smiled, a hint of relief and pleasure in his eyes. "I'm glad you like them, Miss Y/L/N. I thought something from home might be more personal and meaningful than the usual offerings."

Mrs. Y/L/N, observing the interaction with a pleased expression, decided to give the young couple some space. "If you'll excuse me, I have some correspondence to attend to," she said, rising gracefully. "Please, Mr. Bridgerton, make yourself comfortable."

As her grandmother left the room, Y/N gestured for Mr. Bridgerton to sit beside her on the elegant settee. "It's so refreshing to receive something so genuine," she said, placing the graft gently on the table beside them. "Tell me more about your estate's gardens. They must be quite beautiful."

Mr. Bridgerton settled into the seat, his expression brightening as he began to speak. "Our gardens are indeed a sight to behold, especially in the spring. We have a variety of flowers, from different roses to lavender, and even some more exotic species like that which my mother is particularly fond of. Each section of the garden has its own unique charm and character."

Y/N listened intently, her interest piqued not just by the subject but by the way he spoke with such genuine affection for his home. "It sounds enchanting," she said. "I would love to see it someday."

He smiled, clearly pleased by her response. "I would be honored to show you around Aubrey Hall, Miss Y/L/N. Perhaps you could offer some advice on expanding our collection of botanicals."

"I would be delighted," Y/N replied, her smile matching his. "There are always new species to discover and cultivate. It would be a pleasure to share that with someone who appreciates it as much as I do."

As they continued to talk, the conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on various topics of mutual interest. The room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them engrossed in their exchange. The connection they felt was palpable, a promising hint of what could be a deep and meaningful relationship.

The noon sun cast a golden glow through the open window, bathing them in warm light. It was as if the world outside had conspired to create the perfect moment, one that Y/N would cherish as the beginning of something truly special.

"Why not a change of scenery, Miss Y/N? May I enchant you to a walk with me this afternoon?" Mr. Bridgerton asked, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Y/N felt a flutter of excitement at his proposal, though very different from norm indeed. The thought of a leisurely walk, away from the confines of the drawing room and amidst the fresh air and beauty of the outdoors, was undeniably appealing. She glanced at her grandmother, who had discreetly lingered near the doorway.

Mrs. Y/L/N, catching her granddaughter's hopeful expression, gave a subtle nod of approval. "I think that sounds like a splendid idea, Mr. Bridgerton," she said. "A bit of fresh air through my garden will do you both good."

"Thank you, Grandmama," Y/N replied, her smile widening. She turned back to Mr. Bridgerton, her eyes meeting his with a mix of excitement and gratitude. "I would be delighted to join you for a walk."

Mr. Bridgerton offered his arm, which Y/N took with a graceful nod. Together, they made their way out of the drawing room and through the grand halls of the Y/L/N residence. The household staff, now accustomed to the comings and goings of numerous callers, discreetly stepped aside, offering polite smiles as the pair passed.

As they stepped out into the sunlight, the warmth of the afternoon embraced them. The gardens of the Y/L/N estate stretched out before them, a riot of color and fragrance that promised a delightful stroll. Birds chirped melodiously, adding a charming soundtrack to their walk.

"Your gardens are truly beautiful, Miss Y/L/N," Mr. Bridgerton remarked as they began their promenade. "It's easy to see where your love for botanicals comes from."

"Thank you, Mr. Bridgerton," Y/N replied, her gaze sweeping over the well-tended flower beds and neatly trimmed hedges. "I find great joy in spending time here. There's something so peaceful about being surrounded by nature."

They walked in comfortable silence for a few moments, taking in the beauty around them. Y/N's lady's maid chaperoning behind. The gravel path crunched softly underfoot, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves overhead.

"I must admit," Mr. Bridgerton said, breaking the silence, "I was quite nervous about coming here today. I wasn't sure if my gift would be well-received."

Y/N looked up at him, surprised. "You needn't have worried," she assured him. "Your gift was one of the most endearing ones I have received. It speaks volumes about your character and your genuine interest. Quite a change in the morn's most fragrant bouquets. All exquisite but a tad bit too much on my senses." I gestured towards my nose.

He smiled, clearly relieved. "I'm glad to hear that, Miss Y/L/N. I hoped to make a meaningful impression."

"You certainly have," she replied warmly. "And now, here we are, enjoying a lovely walk together. It seems your efforts have been rewarded."

As they continued their walk, their conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on topics both serious and lighthearted. They shared stories, laughed together, and discovered common interests. The connection between them grew stronger with each passing moment, the bond of friendship and potential courtship becoming more tangible.

"So, do tell me more about you, Mr. Bridgerton."

"Do call me Benedict, if you please. Provided, of course, that you feel comfortable and we are beyond the earshot of your lady's maid." his eyebrows raise in suggestive jest.

Y/N chuckled, a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. "Very well, Benedict. You may address me by Y/N as well."

Benedict smiled, clearly pleased by her informal, now more familiar, address. "My days are usually spent at home, but sometimes, I spend my time in my art studio at the academy."

"Yes, you've mentioned of yourself an artist, I remember." Y/N remarked, intrigued. "That is fascinating. What sort of art do you create?"

Benedict's face lit up with enthusiasm as he began to describe his passion. "I work primarily with oils on canvas, though I do enjoy sketching as well. There's something incredibly satisfying about capturing a moment or a feeling in a piece of art. It’s a way to express myself that words sometimes fail to achieve."

Y/N listened intently, her admiration growing. "I would love to see your work someday. It must be wonderful to have such a creative outlet."

"It is," Benedict agreed, a note of pride in his voice. "And I would be honored to show you my studio and some of my pieces. Perhaps I could even paint your portrait, if you would allow me."

Y/N blushed at the thought, a mixture of shyness and excitement. "I would be delighted, Benedict. Though I must warn you, I may not be the most patient of sitters."

Benedict laughed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "I’m sure we would manage just fine. And who knows, you might find the experience enjoyable."

"I look forward to it," Y/N said, her smile reflecting her genuine interest. "But tell me more about your family. I have heard much about the Bridgertons, but I would love to hear it from your perspective."

Benedict's expression softened as he spoke of his family. "We are a large, close-knit group. There are eight of us siblings, and we were all raised with a strong sense of duty and love seeing my late father and mother attend to our household. My mother, Violet, is the heart of our family. She has always encouraged us to pursue our passions and support each other."

"That sounds wonderful," Y/N said, touched by his words. "Family is so important. I imagine it must be lively with so many siblings."

"It certainly is," Benedict replied with a grin. "There is never a dull moment at Bridgerton House. We have our share of disagreements, of course, but we always come together in the end. All the laughter and camaraderie make it worthwhile."

Y/N felt a warm connection forming between them, their shared values and interests creating a bond that felt both natural and exciting. "I would love to meet them all someday, even so now that your brother has found himself a wife. Such exciting things!" she said.

"And they would be delighted to meet you," Benedict assured her. "I can already tell that you would fit right in."

"He thinks of me as someone who would fit with his family? I could feel my heart flutter," Y/N thought, the realization sending a warm, thrilling sensation through her.

As they continued their conversation, the afternoon sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the garden. The hours had slipped away unnoticed, a testament to the ease and enjoyment they found in each other's company.

Eventually the day had struck shy of 3 at afternoon and they made their way back to the main house, the promise of future meetings and shared experiences hanging in the air. As they reached the steps, Benedict turned to Y/N, his expression earnest and hopeful.

"Thank you for a wonderful afternoon, Y/N," he said. "I look forward to our next meeting."

"As do I, Benedict," Y/N replied, her heart full of anticipation. "Until then."

With a final, warm smile, Benedict took his leave, leaving Y/N with a sense of happiness and a fluttering hope for the future. The day had been more than she could have imagined, and she felt a deep sense of gratitude for the connection they had begun to forge.

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lev1hei1chou · 2 months

Text

Fashion Icon

Dad!Gojo x reader Genre: Fluff Words: 504 Synopsis: Gojo's baby has to be a fashion icon Masterlist

It was a sunny afternoon when Gojo Satoru, your husband, decided to take your baby out for a stroll. As he strapped the little bundle of joy into the stroller, he couldn't help but envision his child as a miniature fashion icon.

"Alright, little one, let's show the world what style truly means," Gojo declared with a wink, earning a gurgle of approval from the baby.

With his sunglasses perched on his nose and his hair flowing in the breeze, Gojo strutted down the street with the stroller, drawing curious glances from passersby.

As the duo wandered, Gojo's attention was caught by a trendy baby boutique, its windows adorned with the latest in infant fashion. Unable to resist the allure, he veered off course and entered the store, much to the confusion of the sales clerk.

"Welcome! How can I help you today?" the clerk chirped, eyeing the man's eccentric attire and the bemused baby in the stroller.

Gojo's eyes gleamed with excitement as he surveyed the racks of miniature clothing and accessories. "I'm here to upgrade my baby's wardrobe," he announced proudly, causing the clerk to raise an eyebrow.

Undeterred, Gojo dove into the aisles, plucking out tiny onesies, stylish boots, and even a miniature fedora. With each selection, he imagined the baby strutting their stuff with confidence, just like their stylish father.

After what seemed like an eternity of browsing, Gojo returned to the stroller, laden with bags of baby fashion treasures. He carefully arranged the purchases around the bemused infant, who seemed more interested in chewing on their own fingers.

As they exited the store, Gojo couldn't contain his excitement. "Isn't this amazing, little one? You're going to be the most fashionable baby in town!"

Back home, you greeted the duo with a mix of amusement and bewilderment. "What on earth happened? Why do we suddenly have enough baby clothes to outfit a small army?"

Gojo flashed his trademark grin, his sunglasses gleaming. "Well, you see, darling, our child simply cannot be seen in anything less than the finest threads. Fashion is a way of life, even for the tiniest among us!"

You couldn't help but laugh at his enthusiasm, shaking your head in disbelief. "I suppose our baby will thank you for their impeccable style sense one day."

In the days that followed, Gojo's fashion obsession reached new heights as he eagerly dressed the baby in each new ensemble, staging impromptu photoshoots and posting them to social media with the hashtag #BabyFashionista.

Despite your initial skepticism, you couldn't deny the joy that radiated from Gojo whenever he admired the baby's stylish outfits. And as the months passed, you found yourself joining in on the fun, eagerly browsing for the latest trends in infant fashion.

As the baby grew older, they developed their own unique sense of style, much to Gojo's delight. Whether it was a tiny pair of sunglasses perched on their nose or a miniature trench coat draped over their shoulders, they exuded confidence and charm wherever they went.

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milswrites · 3 months

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The Fox and the Hound

Eris Vanserra X Reader

Summary: Your relationship with Eris through the years, seen through the life of the hound he gifted you when you first began courting.

Warnings: A mix of fluff and angst. Mentions of sex. Mentions of violence/threats. Mentions of injury. Death of pet but a sweet ending.

The First meeting.

There was something sweet about your first meeting. Perhaps it was the shyness that radiated from the two of you, the soft blush which dusted across your cheeks and the way Eris clenched his sweaty palms into fists in an attempt to hide his anxiety.

The two you, whist grown adults, held the charm of two children with an innocent crush. You sat across from each other, curious eyes meeting curious eyes as your fathers discussed the terms of the betrothal. Anticipation sparking in each of your chests at the possibility that this arrangement may not be as terrible as you had first expected.

It took hours.

Hour after hour of dull, monotonous discussion. Each father trying their best to squeeze every ounce of benefit that they could from this deal. It was an arduous process. One that both you and Eris shared no interest in. Deaf to the conversation happening around you, eyes never leaving the others.

Your own wordless conversation flowing naturally, an automatic understanding settling between the two. Almost as if you were both speaking your own language, one known only by the pair of you. A level of synchronicity between you as you exchanged greetings and compliments through the glistening of your eager eyes and the soft smirks which formed upon your tender lips.

Eris needn't say a word to convey the message he was trying to send. It was an invitation. A plea for the two of you to escape the draining presence of your fathers. A subtle suggestion to leave the room so he could hear the sweet tones of your voice for the first time.

Whether or not your fathers noted the rushed manner of the way you stood, excusing yourselves from the rest of the meeting, they did not let on. The two alpha males still locked in a daring battle, both seeking more and more from the other. It made it all too easy for you and Eris to slip from the room unnoticed.

Giggling alongside each other as you fled from the scene. The Autumn Prince flashed you a charming smile as he held out an arm for you to take. Enabling him to lead you alongside him until you had exited the Forest House. The male leading you towards an outbuilding, the building from which a cacophony of barks and growls sounded from.

"This isn't where you tell me that I'm not actually a bride. That this whole agreement was just so you could have some poor innocent damsel to feed to your dogs?"

Eris smiled at your joke, at the way you had failed to hide the anxiety which laced your voice. He continued to lead you towards the kennels, bringing his free hand to comfortingly rest against yours which was wrapped around his bicep.

"They're hounds," he corrected, a cocky smirk finding its home on his handsome face, "And I wouldn't dare feed them someone as pretty as you. It would be such a waste of beauty."

It was impossible to hide the deep red blush which flourished on your cheeks, eyes nervously attempting to avoid the intensity of his admiring gaze.

Trying to quell the rising heat in your face, you battled your flushed embarrassment with another joke, "Isn't it how a boy wastes his time? Playing with dogs...hounds?"

The two of you slowed your approach as you rounded on the solid oak doors. The heavy metal lock rattling with the force of the dogs pounding against the other side of the doors.

"I can assure you, my future bride, that my hounds are bred for far greater things than simply playing," he notes your fearful gulp as you flinch at a particular violent bang to the door, "And I can also tell you that my hounds are the finest in all of Prythian. You needn't worry, they wont hurt you. Not whilst I'm here."

You weren't sure whether it was the sincerity of his words or the confidence that welled in his amber eyes but you believed him. Finding yourself relaxing as he dropped your arm in order to unlock the door, satisfied that Eris would not allow any harm to befall you.

He twisted the key in the lock, dropping the heavy padlock and chains to the floor as he cast his gaze back to you, seeking some form of approval to reassure him that you were fine with this, allowing you to know that he would never force you into a situation that you didn’t want to be in.

Heart feeling full due to his compassion and thoughtfulness, you willed yourself to nod confidently. Determined that if Eris were to be your future husband and caring for his hounds were his passion, you would learn to love them in the same way the male did.

With a firm pull of the handle the door opened, hound after hound pouring out from the open doors. Each giddy pup jumping up to excitedly greet their master before a few brave ones curiously made their way over to you. Big noses snuffling at your feet, neglecting to jump at you in the way they did their master, no doubt sensing the remaining traces of fear which you had failed to flush from your system.

Opting to take the leap yourself, noting how Eris's searching eyes were observing the situation, whether to make sure his hounds didn't try anything or he was simply curious as to how you would react, you sunk to your knees on the ground in order to stroke the hounds which circled you.

A joyous laugh escaping from your lips as they saw your action as an invitation to huddle around you, overwhelming you with gentle licks and playful nibbles.

If only your father could see you now - you thought. Your pristine dress filthened by the damp ground you were knelt on, hands and arms covered in the slimy sheen of their saliva as they eagerly laid affectionate licks wherever they could.

Pleased, Eris contentedly watched the scene from where he was stood. Admiring the outpouring of love his usually reserved hounds were showing you. His heart told him that this was a sign from the mother, your already flourishing bond with his pups was surely an indication that the two of you were meant to be.

Only when their excitement of meeting a new person decreased, and the hounds had begun to wander off, inquisitive noses buried in the ground as they followed the trails of scents which interested them, did Eris then approach you.

Holding out a strong hand so he could help you up from where you were collapsed on the ground, the pups having knocked you onto your bottom from their enthusiasm.

"I'd say that went well" he mused, his amber gaze raking your body as he took in the little tears and muddied stains from your time on the ground, "You may need another dress though. Not to worry, I'll make sure you have plenty of those as my wife."

Thrilled with the child-like excitement that being surrounded by his dogs had brought you, you exclaimed, "Oh Eris they're amazing. Can we come here every day?"

"Every hour if that is what you wished," he smiled. Eris nodded his head towards the open kennels, beginning to drag you towards the building, "Come on there's something I want to show you."

The two of you made your way into the empty kennels, your curious eyes taking in your surroundings as you wonder what it is exactly that Eris wanted to show you. The answer becoming clear as he pulled you to a stop at a large doghouse, bending down to peer inside. "Here" he whispered quietly, gesturing you to drop down to the same level.

You bent down next to him, squinting through the opening of the house, trying to make out the figures which wriggled in the darkness. Before your eyes could even focus, one of said figures bounded out from where it was hidden and flopped into your lap.

You cast your gaze downwards, eyes blowing wide with awe at the sight of the small puppy which was digging into your lap in an attempt to seek some warmth.

A cry broke from your lips, a sound of appreciation, lip pouting as you brushed a gentle finger along it's tiny head. Eyes beginning to water at the sheer cuteness of the creature before you.

"You like her?" Eris asked, his own hand coming to lovingly rub at the scruffy patch of fur on the pup's head.

"Like her? I love her! Eris she's so sweet!"

"Good" he grinned, "Because she's yours. Consider it a betrothal gift."

You couldn't contain the squeal of happiness which broke from your lips, surprised eyes flashing to the male who was sat looking at you and the pup with unbridled joy.

"For me?" you asked in disbelief, of all the gifts you had ever received this by far had to be the best one.

"Well only if you want her. And she'll need training and walks. I'm not sure if you'd want her for hunting but I'm sure she'd be happy to keep you company whenever I'm gone. And she'll need a name of course."

"Darling" you answer immediately, there was no doubt in your heart that that was her name. For that was what she was, her little face, her small paws, her reddish coat. Every inch of her was darling.

"Darling is perfect" Eris agrees, his hand which had been brushing the pups head coming to hold your hand sweetly. This would be the first of what would be many affectionate touches in your relationship to come.

The night time cuddles - And a very jealous Eris.

It wasn't unusual for Eris to sneak into your bedroom to see you. Whilst you were betrothed, the rules of courting did not permit the two of you to be left unchaperoned in a room. Your father had made this point clear to you after discovering you alone with the Autumn prince in the kennels after he had gifted you Darling.

But Eris wasn't one to follow the rules.

He was constantly finding excuses as to why he urgently had to see you in your room. You left a hairpin at the breakfast table. You had forgotten to give him a review of the latest book you had finished. It slipped his mind earlier, when the two of you were sharing a supervised walk in the gardens of the Forest House, just how beautiful Eris thought you were in the new dress he had bought you.

Yet this, Eris appearing at your door, when the sun had already set and the moon was far into its nightly journey, was unusual.

Being caught alone together during the day was one thing - but at night? You shuddered at the thought of the punishment your father would deliver.

"Eris, what are you doing?" You hissed in a low whisper as the male pulled the door to after him.

"I haven't seen you today," he reasoned, hand coming to rest against your cheek as he absorbed the natural beauty of your tired features, "I'm sorry I was caught in meetings most of the day but I just had to see you before I went to bed."

That inescapable blush which appeared whenever you were around the Autumn prince burned your cheeks, a pleased smile making its way onto your lips at the thought of the male being unable to make it one day without your presence.

A stubborn nudge to his leg and an angry yelp had Eris removing his hand so he could bend down and greet a disgruntled Darling, "Yes, yes. I haven't forgotten about you sweetheart. Been behaving well for your mother?"

"Well I was sure it was the end for her today when she bit your brother when he came in for breakfast."

"Damnit" Eris smirked, his evil eyes flashing to your amused ones, "Why do I always miss the good things?"

"Hmm," you hummed in thought, "he seemed fairly convinced that you had been training her to do so."

If possible, his smirk grew even wider, "I have no idea what you mean."

You rolled your eyes at your future husband, retreating to your bed as you yawned at the lateness of the hour at which he had arrived.

"You can't be tired yet!" He argued, words filled with exasperation as Darling ran after you to chase you to the bed where you had laid down, "I just got here!"

"It's not my fault it's so late!" you fought back, gesturing to the window where the moon was high in the sky, "You could...I mean you'd have to be gone by morning of course…But if you wanted to?"

Your eyes flicker to the empty spot on the bed next you you before flashing back to Eris's. Hope flooding your pupils.

"I mean, I can't deny my future wife can I? I've heard terrifying stories about men who said no to their wives."

He obediently crawled onto the other half of your bed as he spoke. Making his way up the mattress until he was level with you.

"Perhaps..." he started, his lips dangerously close to yours, "Perhaps I can finally allow myself to feel the soft touch of your lips," his eyes flicker down to your body, "or feel the soothing heat from your bare skin. Maybe if I’m lucky I could hear your desperate cries as I make you call my name, over and over again."

Your breath caught in your throat, eager eyes boring into Eris's amber ones which were burning with lust. Releasing a shaky breath you cast them to his red lips, eyes beginning to close as you lean in.

Until the forceful shove of Darling tore the two of you apart. The small hound wriggling her way in-between the two of you, tail wagging ferociously with her desire for attention.

You laugh sweetly, hand coming to rub her ears as she happily burrowed against your body. Eris on the other hand, allowed his brows to knit together in a deep frown, his once puckered lips downturned at the sight before him.

"Sorry Eris," you giggled at his disappointment, "You are in Darling's spot and she had been in my bed many more times than you have."

His brows furrowed deeper, lips moving into a pout, "But she's had you all day! It's not fair!"

"I'm sorry dear," you shrugged, allowing your pup to dictate exactly what happens in your room, "Darling has spoken. It's ok, she gives great cuddles, I'm sure you'll sleep soundly."

Your words did nothing to improve the Prince's mood. In fact, the reminder that your pup had spent more hours nestled against you in a warming embrace than he has only made him more miserable.

"Maybe next time" you grinned, loving eyes focused on the now sleeping form of Darling.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure you give better cuddles my Prince.”

The wedding.

You met in private. The two of you making your way to the old oak tree hidden in the security of the Autumn Court's forest. Lucien had joined you at Eris's request, the male trailing after you, a doting Darling close at his heels.

You had come to make your vows in your own terms. Neither you nor Eris wanting to share this moment with the thousands of uncaring guests Beron had invited to your wedding. Strangers who knew nothing about how deeply yours and Eris’s affection ran.

No, you wanted to exchange them in the privacy of each other's company, his brother joining as your witness. An eager Darling not wanting to miss out on the excitement.

So here you were, dressed in a simple white dress. Standing hand in hand with the male you had grown to love, covered by the shade of the oak tree.

"Well I can't say I've ever married someone before," Lucien stated as he scratched his red hair in thought, "I guess you just...say your vows?"

Eris rolled his eyes at his clueless brother, "You'd think when we asked you to do this you would have consulted a book brother or even a prince. Don’t you have plenty of them in the spring court?"

Knowing that the two males could spit retorts to each other for days on end, you made the easy decision of choosing to speak your vows first, "Alright. You guys can stop, I'll go first!"

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts, worried that words could never do justice to the way you felt about Eris.

"Eris, I think I have loved you from the moment I met you. It wasn't hard, you make it so easy to be loved. You are not only the kindest male I have ever met, but the most thoughtful. Your compassion and the love you hold for everyone, and every thing, in your court is inspiring. And I am the luckiest woman alive to be blessed with your presence and the honour that I can soon call myself your wife. I have loved you since I first laid eyes on you and I promise that I will continue to do so until we're nothing but the ash remaining from the inferno that is our love."

Tears sparkled in Eris's eyes, his grip on your hands increasing in an attempt to ground himself. Even Lucien bore a soft grin at the sight before him, at the happiness that his brother had found for himself in you.

"And I, Little fox," Eris started, his voice cracking as he spoke, "I never thought I'd be lucky enough to deserve a life like this. I've always assumed I was just like my father and was resigned to a life just as miserable as his. But being here, being with you, I know I can allow myself to feel as though I've earned this. Earnt your love. And I will spend the rest of my days proving to you just how devoted I am, just how much I was made for you as you were made for me. You are my other half. My beginning and my end. And I love you."

You choked back a gleeful sob, your own eyes glistening with tears as the two of you looked to Lucien expenctantly.

"What?...Oh! Oh right. You, uh, you many kiss the bride."

And Eris did just that. Connecting his lips with yours. His shuddering breath meeting your lips as he sealed his against yours. Moving them against each other in a passionate dance, arms flying around each other's body in search of some support. The two of you getting lost in the moment, losing yourselves in the heat of your embrace, acting as though it was just the two of you, locked in this scene for an eternity.

Until there was a rude awakening in the form of Darling leaping up at you. Her muddy paws leaving streaks of dirt down your pure white fabric of your dress. Reluctantly pulling away from Eris, you bobbed down to give her a loving stroke, pleased that she got to share in the moment with you. She was a part of your family after all.

Lucien, red-faced and blushing, broke the silence, "I guess I'm looking after her tonight then?"

"Yes!" You and Eris eagerly replied in glee.

The intruder

It was late. The world was sleeping along with the sun. Eris was away, visiting another court. Which led you to where you were now, sound asleep in your joint chambers, Darling cuddled up against your body. The two of you breathing deeply as you dreamed.

Yet not everyone was asleep. Night was the time for criminals and wrongdoers to crawl out from the depths. Sinister people who chose to act under the cover of darkness, skillfully hiding between the shadows which blanketed the court.

And tonight they had come for you. Of course choosing the one night that Eris wasn't here to protect you.

It was the rattle of your door handle which stirred Darling from her slumber. The hound curiously jumping off the bed and padding to the door, hoping that her other master had returned from his travels.

Only she didn't scent the usual crackling fire or roasting chestnuts. Instead a putrid smell of soured milk and fermented fish wafted to her nose.

Her fur stood on end. Baring her teeth as she released a low growl, the sound being enough to draw you from your dreams. Sitting up in bed and noticing the precarious way Darling was stood at your door.

"Darls?" You questioned, your worlds slurred through the thick coat of sleep which was still wrapped around you, "Come back to bed girl."

She didn't move. Muscles still tense as she stared at the door which you had only just noticed was banging softly. If Darling wasn't so on edge you would have passed it off as wind. Though the dogs anxious demeanour and the lack of a howling gale blowing against your windows had your body filling with dread.

The doors burst open, clattering against the walls from the force at which they did so. A dark figure entered, crazed eyes locked on your shaking form as they advanced.

You froze, unsure of what to do. Cursing yourself for never taking up Eris’s offer on learning how to fight, for being so sure that the need for that skill would never arise and that if it did Eris would be there to protect you.

But Eris wasn’t here. And as you stared into the cold, unforgiving eyes of your intruder fear flooded your system. Thoughts swimming around your mind at the possibility that these could be your last moments. That you’d never see your husband again. That he’d come home from his trip and find your mangled body sprawled across the bed.

Your panic increasing, you shook yourself awake, needing to be prepared to put up a fight. Jumping out of the sheets as quickly as possible so you could stand and draw your hands into shaky fists.

Ready to act.

But you needn’t do so. For as the man crossed the threshold Darling was already on him.

Her sharp teeth finding their home in the flesh of his arm. Rabid growls leaving her mouth as she tugged and thrashed at the limb trapped between her teeth. Blood poured from the man’s arm, screams of pain escaping from his throat. Legs pathetically flailing as he tried to kick her from him.

It didn’t take long at all for Darling to wrestle him to the ground. The whites of her eyes bulging in a way you had never seen, your dog never before having the need to show this amount of aggression to anyone.

She continued to ravage the man, tearing at his arm as he continued his attempts to bat her away.

Anger coursed through your body at the sight of the kicks and punches he was delivering to your dog. Your baby. And so you make to run forwards, to aid Darling with what little strength you had.

Yet once more you were saved by another.

Eris burst into the room, sword in hand. You were too stunned by his sudden appearance to try and make sense of how he was here, how he could have possibly known what was happening.

Upon his arrival, Eris was swift to finish the job. A still feral Darling coming to stand in front of you protectively. Blocking your view of the scene before you, hiding the figure of Eris stabbing his sword through the man’s gut.

When the deed was done, Eris made to come towards you, wanting nothing more than to rush to your side in order to make sure you were ok.

But Darling wouldn’t allow it.

Baring her blood-stained teeth at her master. Snarling as he tried to lay a calming hand on her. Refusing to let your husband come anywhere near you.

“It’s ok Darling” you soothed, stroking along her back, bringing her back to reality, allowing the cloud of fear to clear from her eyes as she saw who was before her. Inhaling his familiar sent. It was her family.

“It’s over Darling” you whispered into her ear as you pulled her into a hug, “my brave, brave girl. You did so well.”

The baby

“Oh Eris, let her in. She’s scratching at the door!”

It had been a long labour. The efforts of which had drained a lot of energy from you, leaving you exhausted, pale and sweaty.

But it was worth it. Every minute of pain. You would do it again in a heartbeat if it meant getting to hold the little bundle of joy which was currently held against your chest.

A little baby girl.

A beautiful daughter who already had a small little head of red hair to match her father’s. Her little fingers clinging onto your body as you cradled her.

Your husband, eyes full of love sat at the edge of the bed, admiring the beauty of the moment. His tiny, healthy baby. His magnificent, strong wife.

Yet to you, one thing was missing from the picture.

Your poor little hound had been kicked out of the room by Eris at the first signs of your labour. Your husband claiming you didn’t need any distractions, that Darling would get in the way.

But you could see it. The underlying glint of anxiety in his eyes, the already fierce desire had had to protect his newborn daughter. Worried of what could happen if he let an excitable Darling into the room, what havoc she would cause.

He didn’t mean to think that way, you knew Eris loved Darling dearly. But you also knew that this was a big change for Eris.

That he wanted to be a good father. That he wanted to be different from his own.

With the distraction your labour brought, where Darling was or what she was doing didn’t cross your mind. But now all you could hear was her incessant scratching and whining at your door and you wanted nothing more than for your pup to meet the new member of your family.

“Please Eris” you begged, a tired hand stretching across the bed in an attempt to reach your husband’s, “Let her in.”

The male sighed, rising from where he was sat. He placed a gentle kiss against your forehead before making his way to the door. Only opening it slightly before he caught Darling as she ran inside, sweeping her into his strong arms.

It was a sight to behold, your giant, wriggling hound in Eris’s sturdy grip. Darling had been much too big for you to pick up for years now, and Eris definitely looked as though he was struggling to do so now as well.

He perched back onto the end of the bed, arms tight around Darling, his stern voice berating her, “No Darling! Calm down, gently now. Gently.”

You smiled, a warming wide smile. Your heartstrings twinging at the sight. Everybody you loved was here, sat together on your bed.

Darling managed to wriggle her way out of Eris’s grip, the male cursing as she did so. Her spritely form running up the bed until she came to rest against you. Slowly laying her head against your stomach as her wide eyes took in the child against your breast.

“This is Eva, Darling” you smiled, introducing the hound to your baby.

She didn’t jump. Didn’t push her sniffling nose as close to the babe as she could. Instead Darling just laid in silent contentment, her curious eyes never leaving your daughter for a minute. She needn’t have the ability to speak for you to know what your pup was thinking, to know that in this very moment her heart had grown two times as big.

To know that she had just met her new best friend.

The terrible two’s

“Oh cauldron, Eva get back here!” You chased after your daughter, her little feet carrying her through the halls at a pace you didn’t expect a two year-old would have.

“Eva!”

Whilst running may appear to be her speciality listening was not.

As much as you loved your daughter, there were some days where you just felt utterly exhausted. Unable to keep up with her energetic soul and curious demeanour.

Spending more of your time chasing after her than anything else.

Yet thankfully, even on days like these where Eris was stuck in meeting after meeting, you always had help.

Your little Darling was never far behind Eva. The hound glued to her side wherever you went. You thought Eris was an overprotective brute, but Darling coddled her as if she was her own.

Eva never went anywhere without Darling, and Darling never went anywhere without Eva.

The hound ran down the corridor after the giggling toddler. Her head nudging Eva back up whenever she stumbled or fell, allowing the girl to grip uncomfortably tight onto her fur for support. Nose lightly pushing your daughter to the side whenever she was about to run into someone in the hallway.

Darling may not have been raised to hunt like all of Eris’s other hounds, but clearly her expertise lay in raising children. Her heightened instincts which would have allowed her to easily track prey, were what enabled her to keep up with the toddler so well.

Eris liked to joke that if Eva spent any more time around the dog she’d begin to act like one. That her increasingly mischievous personality was unbecoming of an Autumn Court Princess. You liked to joke that Eva acted just as wild as her father did.

You were panting by the time you caught up to the pair, a slight sheen of sweat across your forehead as you scooped your squealing daughter into your arms. Darling jumping up and barking along, wanting to join in on the fun.

“Come on girlies” you beamed, continuing to walk towards your destination, “let’s go find Daddy.”

Eva happily babbled away at the sound of his name, bouncing in your arms as you made your way towards Eris’s office, hoping to catch him having a break in-between meetings.

You tap at his door, pressing your ear against the wood in order to better hear. “Come in” his tired voice rings out.

Opening the door, Darling bounds into the room, leaping into your husband’s lap, a smile forcing its way onto his face at the action, hands absentmindedly scratching behind the hound’s ears.

He must have noticed the slightly disheveled state you’re in, taking in your appearance before letting out a teasing snort, “tough day Little Fox? You can go and sit in my next meeting and I’ll look after our girls if you prefer.”

“I think I’ve got the better end of the stick here my love.”

The man huffed in disappointment, though his mood lightened slightly when you passed a giggling Eva into his arms, resting her butt on Darling’s body as he bounced her up and down as he cooed.

“You can take her into the meeting with you if you wish. I’m sure your father wouldn’t mind his Granddaughter running around, maybe if she tires him out as much as she has me it’ll be a short meeting.”

“She’s really run you ragged huh?” Eris asks, he attempts to keep his words light and hearty but you noticed the flicker of concern which flashed in his eyes.

“Not just her” you reasoned, “And not just the fact that I had to chase after Darling in the woods this morning because she saw a squirrel. It’s actually…ah-”

Your sentence was interrupted by a knock at the door. Eris’s brother stepping inside his office without needing to hear any acknowledgement of his knock. His full eyes looked to you before boredly travelling to his brother, “Your late Eris. Father won’t wait much longer.”

Your husband nodded at his brother, dismissing him as he stood from his chair with a sigh, Darling jumping off of his lap. “What was it you had to say Little Fox?” He asked whilst passing Eva to you.

“Nothing, nothing don’t worry,” you brushed him off, knowing that what you had to tell your husband required more time, “I’ll tell you tonight.”

It was a torturously long wait. His meetings having run on for more than half the day. Night had fallen, and Eva had curled up to sleep alongside Darling, the two snoring softly. Yet your anxiety didn’t allow you to sleep, not until Eris came back.

Once he did arrive, he bore dark circles under his eyes and his posture was slouched, you almost thought about waiting another day before telling him the news.

But then you saw the way his eyes lit up when he cast his gaze upon his daughter and your dog. The never ending love which poured from his eyes made it too difficult to resist. You didn’t even say hello to the man before you blurted out, “I’m pregnant Eris!”

He turned to you, tiredness slipping from his eyes as a combination of shock and joy flooded into them, “yeah?”

“Yes!” You cried, unable to stop the tears which leaked from your eyes, throwing yourself into your husband’s tender embrace, “we’re having another child.”

He cheered in glee, picking up your body in glee and spinning you around, yelps leaving both your lips as you slapped his chest and cursed him, “Shhhh, you’re going to wake her! It took long enough to get her to sleep!”

The two of you looked over to where your sleeping daughter was laid, smile adorning both your faces as you saw a cheerful Darling looking right back at you. Her gentle head resting on Eva’s stomach as her tail batted happily back and forth.

Almost as if she knew the news which you had shared between you. As if she knew what was coming next. Who was coming next.

The goodbye

An unfortunate circumstance. That’s what the doctor called it. It was her time to go.

Eris had called him to your chambers immediately, the second Darling had slumped in exhaustion and refused to wake back up.

She was old. That was true. But there was something about her that had you convinced she would live forever. She had always been here, for as long as you had been in Autumn, and now you would have to try and live on without her.

You were in a state. Not even the comfort of your two beautiful children could quell the grief which had found its home inside of you.

Their presence, while appreciated, failed to fill the Darling shaped hole which had grown in your heart in her absence.

You weren’t sure how long it had been since that day on the floor of your room, cradling your best friend as she drifted into her final sleep. Each day seeming to all blur into one. Every one more dull than the last. Your source of enjoyment had gone.

Yet Eris seemed to have had enough. He was familiar with the grief that came along after the loss of a pet. He has experienced it more times than he could count, having lived for centuries and loosing just as many pups for years he had been alive.

Your husband had decided you can’t go on like this, that something had to be said. You already knew it was coming right from the moment he sat down onto the bed, comforting hand moving to hold yours.

“I know it’s hard,” he spoke slowly and concisely, as if he had rehearsed exactly what needed to be said, “I know it feels like you’ll never be happy again. But you will. The reminders you look to now which cause you pain will soon bring you joy. Will bring you thanks, will make you grateful for the time you got to have with her.”

Your tears which had been spilling for the past few days stopped at the words your husband was saying. Your ears twitching as you took in every word he was saying. He saw your peaked attention as a sign to continue.

“You’ll see her everywhere. In the forests she used to run in, the halls, your bed, Eva, Lucerys, me. You’ll see her everywhere but you’ll be able to look and smile because you were fortunate enough to have shared those memories with her. You’ll never forget her. No one’s asking you to. But it’s time to move on.”

“It’s hard” you cried, the pain in your chest felt as though it would never leave. That it had built its home there and that’s where it would stay.

“I know,” he consoled, soft hand coming to brush against your cheek, “no one said it’s not hard. But you just have to be strong. For me. For the kids. For Darling.”

He was right of course. He annoyingly always seemed to be. But you understood what he was telling you, what he was asking of you.

That you did need to move on. But moving on didn’t mean that you had to forget. And you never would.

The new beginning

“Mum! Mum come look! Come on!” Lucerys called for you. Now taller and faster than you it took him very little effort to drag you through the halls as he ran. You chased after him, wondering what could be so urgent.

He led you outside, his hand still entwined with yours as he slowed his pace after noticing how you were struggling to keep up.

It was only now he had slowed that you were able to properly look at your son, at his long red hair, at the beaming smile across his face, at the spark of joy in his eyes as he led you to the kennels.

It had taken you a long time to come here after losing Darling. But once you did you had immediately found yourself at home, surrounded by a dozen other hounds who you loved just as dearly. Your time being spent with your son who held the same affinity with animals as his father, the two of you opting to spend most of your free time tending after your husband’s hounds together.

“She’s had the pups mum!” He exclaimed as he led you inside, hand pulling yours until the two of you reached the back of the kennel where Eva was doting over the mother hound. A litter of newborn puppies suckling at her.

You didn’t fight the tear which fell from your eye, nor the twinge of pain caused from the plucking of one of your heartstrings. You allowed yourself to feel the pain as you looked to their reddish coats and their small paws. You allowed yourself to be reminded of Darling. To grieve for what you had lost all those years ago.

Lucerys helped you to sit, excitedly bringing you with him to the floor as you admired the small puppies. Your son passing you one of the small hounds, which had started to cry as it was moved from its mother. Yet it fell silent once it had reached the warmth of your hands.

That old familiar glow settled in your chest. The rekindling of a love you once felt so strongly. A blissful smile crossing your face as you took in its dear little face.

“That one’s for you mum” Eva smiled, her bright eyes locking with your watery ones, “you can name her whatever you want. She’s all yours.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Notes: I know this took a very sad turn but this piece means a lot me so I really hope you guys like it!

#acotar #fanfic #acotar imagine #sarah j maas #eris vanserra oneshot #eris vanserra imagine #eris oneshot #eris vanserra x reader #eris imagine #eris acotar #eris x reader #eris vanserra

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yandere-romanticaa · 3 months

Text

I'm just imagining how Gilbert von Obsidian would admire the pretty engagement ring he put on your finger as you eat breakfast together.

He has you brought back to him to his kingdom, dressed in the finest midnight black silk, the scent of fresh roses still lingering on your flesh as he indulges in the softness of your neck. Sometimes he just allows his lips to linger, to tease you like the cruel man that he is.

Other times, his patience snaps like a twig and he just bites.

The bites are never gentle. They're rough and sharp, the bruise would stay there for weeks to come and don't you dare cover them up.

You would just upset him if you did that, and that is not something you want to do.

It gets harder and harder to focus on the food in front of you as Gilbert just keeps going at it, his red eye twinkling like a ruby, its sheer redness nearly blinding you with its intensity.

You are at an impasse - do you fight him? Your spirit is still intact and you have no desire to stay stuck in this gilded cage he set up for you. But you just think back to all the blood that was spilled because of you, how many people lost their lives because they helped you, none of which knew that you were engaged to the deranged beast prince of Obsidian.

Gilbert sinks his teeth into you once more and you are brought back down to reality.

There really was no fighting him anymore, was there?

You let out an accidental little yelp, much to Gilbert's pleasure. You feel him grin, his pearly whites tainted with your thick, scarlet blood, just how he liked it. He won, he knew this.

He was just happy that you finally were aware of that fact too.

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diejager · 3 months

Text

New Ownership

Pairing: Dark!Krueger + König x doll!reader

Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, possessive behaviour, magic?, death, heartbreak, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 1.2k

You used to watch people awe at you, expressing their shock, incredulous and pleasing, under the protection of your owner —your creator. You were an object of emotion; of melancholy. You were a life size doll made of porcelain and wax, of hohair and glass eyes, painted in the richest pigments and dressed in the finest fabrics, you were the epitome of treasure in your time. A doll made with utmost care and tenderness to heal a wounded heart.

Your creator was a doll maker, building every doll with a special kind of affection, be it for his collection or for a client, he always loved his dolls. He made as much as he gave, the single joy of his life was the present his late-wife gave him, a daughter to call his own, someone soft and living unlike the cold bisque of his creations. You were a present for her coming-of-age, a mimicry of her person, made with love for the adoration he had for his daughter, and sadness for seeing her grow up and leave, to start a new life without him. Every stroke was perfection and every detail was imperfection, you were perfectly imperfect, a mirror to a human.

You were made as an object to remember him by once she left to live with her fiance, painted in the last moments before he saw her off. He dressed you up in a pretty dress, a voluptuous crimson for the passion and a deep black for the end of he past and the start of a new beginning. He made you into what he saw his sweet, precious daughter as, a dream that he was ecstatic to gift, but she was in an accident the week before her celebration. She died of it, passing in writhing pain and tearful agony. It broke the man who lived to care. Your tender creator who lived to love and give.

He drowned in the throes of sorrow and agony, paraliysed by his own fears and torn apart by his nightmares, and left the house you once loved to rot and waste away just as he was. Sobbing nights and depressing mornings, you were unable to do anything but watch as he spent his days rotting, his skin sinking, his hair outgrow and his complexity pale unhealthily, yet he still cared for you. Your creator —your father cleaned you, dressed you and incased you in a thin layer of wax and gel to protect you from the changing times.

You gave him solace, something to live for after he closed his quaint shop and became a hermit, crazed and lonely, having nothing but you to talk to and spend his shortening time with. You wished you could tell him how much you cared, how much you shared his sorrows or how saddened you were to see him like this. And like his daughter, your father passed away, heartbroken and lonely, leaving you to watch over his cooling body dissolving in his bed. All the wasted years, spent seated in your chair, unmoving and unliving, never being able to reach out to him to show him how much you loved him. Life, however, ran its course, uncaring of any kind of self-sought fury or self-given agony, you were just a doll given conscience and memory.

You were picked up by a relative, estranged and distant from yours. He was German, or Austrian from the rough tone he used, a deep growl as he appraised you, rough fingers caressing your face like he was admiring you. He was, this wasn’t admiration in his eyes, you knew it, that sick and twisted gleam in his brown eyes, it was obsession. It was a perverted kind of adoration, it made you fear what he would do to you.

And these fears, these demons that clung to your peripheral, weren’t unfounded, weren’t an illusion your conscience made up to fill the void in your empty core. You were carefully stuffed in a box, stored safely during the long move from your small town in Germany to a place in Austria, locked away in a loud and dark place and only brought out to be placed in another cage of gold.

He laid you in a pentagram of sorts, a crooked thing painted in a dark red and terrifying runes that promised nothing but evil. He enacted this… ritual that would affect you in some way, his low chants and hisses while he stared you down with hungry eyes once he stripped you of all clothes, lathering your porcelain with markings. He scared you more, knowing that he had this planned out, and that he wasn’t alone.

There was a shadow of a giant behind him, a man heads taller than most with cold eyes peeking through a fabric to gaze at you. He had broad shoulders and thick arms, seemingly swallowing the corner he stood from. He took up a lot of your attention, ripped between the chanting man and him from your chair, placed perfectly at the center of this ritualistic circle. You were a show to the giant and a project to your new owner, a spectacle to watch unravel and writhe in pain.

It hurt. Why did this hurt? Your skin tingled, an annoyance that grew to a boiling agony, this sacrilegious magic reworking your imperfect body to fit one of his whims. You shook in your chair, the red sinking into your skin, lining the inside of your precious porcelain with runes as your fingers and toes flexed, limbs jerking from the information overload on your new nerves, synapses snapping into place and building a circuit of sensitive system. You could blink and you could cry, tears springing from your fluttering lashes, lips trembling before you screamed, a shrill cry that wailed out of your lungs.

Your chest burned, it felt heavy with an erratic pulse, beat after beat slamming into your calcified ribs, warm fat and strained muscles. You felt like you were drowning, your throat clogged with something sick and dying after you shriek, acidic to your tongue. It stole the air from your lungs and you had to fill it back, the nagging urge to do so. Your chest expanded with your first breath, it hurt - it burned, but you didn’t drown - but it seamed the first seed of life within you.

You slumped forward, eyes rolling to the back of your head as the last words he uttered passed through your mind, a searing memory forever imprinted in your conscience. You fell into warm arms, a soothing warmth unlike the boiling pit of magma that raged over you, embracing you with a quiet coo from the man who brought you to life. He hoisted you up, wrapping an arm under your knees and another firmly pressing your naked chest to his. Yours limbs were strangers to you, new and uncanny that you couldn’t move or control just yet. You limply laying your head in the crook of his neck, burying your nose in a green veil smelling strongly of musk and metal, your legs too weak and arms too tense like a newly born fawn.

“Besorg mir etwas, um sie zu bedecken, König”

“Ja, bin gleich wiener da..”

“Welcome to the living, Rehkitz.”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami

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yandere-kokeshi · 3 months

Note

I remember you posted that you write alien vs predator now, so if possible could you write something about a yandere yautja x chubby!f!reader??? Like maybe she accidentally witnessed some them hunting on earth but as they were going to kill her another yautja grabbed her and ran or fought the others, he’s usually content just watching but she was threatened and he couldn’t stay away…. Or even just headcanons about them and what they’d be like as a partner

Sorry🫣

— Yandere Yautja with a female! chubby mate

Warnings: yandere behavior, talks about chubby reader, and yautja stuff.

A/N: I changed it up a bit and decided to write headcanons about having a darling who is chubby. I hope that’s alright :)

In his planet, or rather culture, female Yautja have a naturally larger and masculine build: muscular thighs, fit hands that’ll be thrown at anybody, and a good athletic build. But, since the day he saw you and touched you? He died at the second, and swore to protect you to all the Gods. And ensuring, you’d be his by the end of the night.

To get it easy — he sees no issue with your size. Generally sees you as a ‘plushy’ and more huggable, there’s nothing wrong with that.

But if he senses you being sad over your weight, he clicks in annoyance. How dare you insult yourself like that? Within seconds, he hikes you up on his shoulders by one hand, showing you that weight doesn’t mean a thing to him, so nor should you care.

It’s no surprise that Yautja’s love heat, and your beloved mate sees you as a heat source. He has to be touching you at every given moment, muzzling his face deeper into your belly rolls as you two sleep in.

Finds your stretch marks remarkable. Scars are a symbol of strength, and are praised highly in the culture and with your lovely Yautja, he views them as a form of scars.

Handsy to a capitalized H, and doesn’t know a thing of personal space. Your skin is so warm and soft, his paws squishing and handling you is his favorite hobby. Adores the scent you have, and uses your thighs as pillows.

Generally would love for you to go naked in the house. Nudity isn’t a source of shame in yautja culture, so he’d be confused if he sees you embarrassed. In all, he admires and wishes for the day to come; imagining himself pulling your clothes off, chirping and clicking in excitement as his hand covers your hips and addicting curves.

Very protective, and whilst that’s guaranteed with his aggressive stance, it’s mustered up a bit because of how gorgeous you are. He’s convinced that if any other ‘ooman, or yautja, sees you – they might get attracted and try to steal you away. He’s ready to fight and tear off limbs if must. Possessive to its finest.

Treats you with the finest things he can find and cook. He cooks you amazing food, ones that leave your mouth salivating, and wakes you up with breakfast in bed; admiring your sleep figure and messy hair from awakening.

Loves to dress you up in clothes, especially if it’s in pelts that he hunted for you. Admires looking at you from behind, smiling like he’s made the day, and stares you down like a mad-man. You’re just so cute, ‘ooman.

—

Masterlist || Please consider reblogging and commenting instead of liking. It helps me as a creator!! Stay well!!

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houserautha · 2 months

Text

These Destined Ends

Part 4

Summary: Jessica fulfilled the wishes of the Bene Gesserits to produce a daughter. You’re now burdened with the task of not only marrying the na-Baron, but also bearing his child — the Kwisatz Haderach. Will you take your fate into your own hands? Or will it always belong to those who control you?

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: a striptease?, female masturbation, hints at incest/sexual abuse, mentions of killing, he fingers you at the dinner table, public humiliation aplenty

A/N: I made it exactly *checks clipboard* three parts without smut

The garment bag is composed of the finest fabric you’ve ever seen. Your pulse hammers at the thought of whatever might lay within — what could Feyd-Rautha have possibly chosen for you? You eye his usual all black garb.

Zipper cool to the touch, you glide it open, pushing aside the garment bag to reveal your present. Bile rises to your throat at the same time you feel a familiar swoop of desire in your stomach, a summation of your relationship with Feyd-Rautha so far.

The dress — if it could even be called that — shimmers seductively, black, and somehow inlaid with thousands of glittering beads. Two slim straps keep it secured, dangling, from the hanger. And there’s remarkably not much else to comment on: the straps descend daringly low, barely enough to cover your decency.

A belt encircles the middle of the dress loosely, and you can only imagine how it would withstand even the slightest of breezes without exposing you. You swallow, deliberating.

“Where is the rest?”

Feyd-Rautha reclines back in the chair. “Wife, why would I disguise your beauty with useless fabric? It would only pale in comparison.”

“I hardly believe this is acceptable dinner attire,” you point out, surprised at the coolness in your tone.

“It’s rude to refuse a gift,” Feyd-Rautha says. “Will you deny me the pleasures of gifting my wife for the first time?”

You bite your tongue to keep from lashing out. Fine, if that’s how he wanted to play.

Clearly this was his retaliation for your bold behavior, you just hadn’t expected it to come so swiftly after his arrival, or in the form of public humiliation. Normally you wouldn’t dare wear such an affront to fashion, or your sensibilities.

“Very well. I would be remiss to…deny you.” You look to Asha, who has presided over the entire interaction with wide eyes. With a smile, you say, “I would like you to undress me now.”

Her mouth opens, then snaps closed.

The upper level of the antechamber positions you higher than Feyd-Rautha, whose dark eyes have taken on the delighted glint of someone encountering a worthy opponent in the arena. Asha nervously obeys your command as you hold your arms out to your sides, allowing her to undo the difficult laces of your dress. The only sound in the room is the sound of it pooling at your feet.

“I hardly think my husband’s generous gift will allow for underclothes,” you laugh. Asha then begins removing your thin chemise from over your head. She tugs it up over her arms and your breasts slip from the fabric, leaving you entirely naked in the glow of the black sun.

Desire unfurls between your legs. You don’t even have to glance at Feyd-Rautha to know that he is fully captivated by your performance, at the sight of your naked form. In any other situation you might’ve been ashamed of your nudity; the curves you found unseemly, or the dimples of cellulite in the soft flesh of your thighs and ass.

But, beholden by the na-Baron, you were resplendent.

“The dress now, please,” you order Asha, voice breezy and carefree.

Feyd-Rautha’s gaze bores into you, sears your skin like its own personal brand. You loathe to admit that you’re actually enjoying this. Your thighs are slick with revel in your own cleverness, in wresting the control from the man determined to wield it over you.

Asha covers you with the dress, laying it gently over you — nipples hardened and skin flushed with self-admiration, in satisfaction of capturing Feyd-Rautha’s attention so wholly.

Asha moves to fasten the belt next but is interrupted. “Let me,” the na-Baron orders.

Which unspoken, is understood as: leave us. Your friend ducks her head and disappears from the antechamber. You silently thank her for closing the door behind her.

Feyd-Rautha approaches you slowly, measured in his movements. A predator reconsidering its prey.

So then why are you so eager for him to devour you?

He stands infuriatingly close to you without actually touching you, absurdly concerned with the so-called belt hanging at your waist. It vexes you that he refuses to meet your eyes, refuses to give you what you so ardently seek.

“I should strip this from you. Tear this dress from you with my teeth and bind your wrists,” he says, tugging at the belt, agonizingly composed, his breath fanning your face. “Show you exactly what you deserve for pulling a stunt like that.”

His fingers are deft as they fasten the belt. He doesn’t touch you once.

“Did you not like it?” You ask, breathless.

His proximity intoxicates you, takes you by the hand and leads you into a fathomless darkness. And yet he won’t look at you, won’t touch you, just turns simply on his heel of his boot and says over his shoulder, “I’ll see you at dinner.”

The smoldering shower water blasts between the blades of your shoulders, sluices over you and scathes your aching flesh. But it’s not enough, not a fit replacement for touch, for his touch.

Your fingers slip between your thighs and find your pleading cunt. A breathy noise escapes you, and you begin pumping your hand, no time for the attention you usually afford yourself — you’re desperate to rid yourself of this feeling, wash it away in the drain and pretend it never existed. Your release comes fast, insipid, and once your legs have stopped shaking with the effort of your touch, you wrench off the water.

And there you stand, cold and wet, cunt swollen and certainly not satisfied, but at least you can direct your thoughts from —

You slam your fist against the shower wall. Pain, leftover from Feyd-Rautha’s boot, quivers through you like a bow across the string of an instrument. How dare you let yourself become so entangled in him, in his game, in his inescapable command. You are a fool.

Quickly you towel yourself off and step back into the sorry excuse for a dress, warding off any traitorous thoughts belonging to Feyd-Rautha. You have no clue when dinner actually is but you won’t be caught shivering and spent. You apply a simple, dark makeup and leave your hair untouched, determined to set yourself separate from the rest of the Harkonnens in attendance.

And when the scents of food and the clatter of guests float through the antechamber, you take it upon yourself to join the others. You follow the din of a party, a sound you are accustomed to from your time on Caladan, and traipse into the Great Hall to find it already engaged.

The long table usually void of company is brimming with noblemen and women dressed in various shades of blacks and whites, and every single one of them turns and stares at your entrance.

Not even the strictest training can prevent the flood of embarrassment through you. It’s so prominent and all-encompassing that your entire body goes rigid with fear.

“Ah, the Lady Y/N,” a booming voice calls. “How lovely of you to join us at last.”

At the opposite end of the impossibly long Hall, the Baron lifts from the table on his suspensors and effectively stamps out any fleeting hope you had of going quietly into the night. Or perhaps dying on the spot. He hadn’t given you enough time to decide which.

“Come, take your place at my side so that you might meet your court and feast with them on this splendid occasion,” the Baron says.

Surprisingly, your limbs do work, and you somehow carry yourself past the leering eyes in your scanty dress and sit upon the only empty chair at the table. If you weren’t so completely mortified, you might’ve taken the time to glare daggers at the man beside you; Feyd-Rautha lounged regally at the right hand of the Baron. To your utter displeasure, he looked disgustingly wonderful in a dark tunic and pants, his lips reddened by the wine.

It looked a lot like blood.

“I apologize, your Baron, I had no intentions of causing a scene or demeaning your gracious invitation.”

The Baron eats in a ferocious manner best likened to a savage beast, wild and without abandon. Repulsion churns in your belly as you are forced to watch, doing your best to mask your horror as he gulps down his food in large, greedy mouthfuls. A smudge of sauce graces the corner of his unsightly mouth.

“There is no need for apologies, Lady Y/N, as long as it does not happen twice. No court is ever won over by a careless Baroness,” he says icily.

“Where were you?” Rabban asks next.

Rabban sits to the left of the Baron and across from you, fixing you with a glowering look. It’s not lost on you that he is already tormented by this, demoted to the less favorable side of the table in favor for his wicked brother, who replicates Rabban’s probing glare, no traces of awareness that he had been the exact reason for your tardiness.

“We met initially in the salon to give you time to appear. Tell us, where were you, wife? What demands did you have grander than this celebration of our upcoming union?”

Your molars might grind into dust by the end of the evening, if you survive it. You smile sweetly at him. “I suppose I was preoccupied with preparations, na-Baron. Your…gift is not easy to slip into alone.”

“However taxing, you look splendid,” the Baron says. He drains the rest of his goblet. One massive hand descends on Feyd-Rautha’s thigh, strangely intimate. “Nephew, will you fetch me more wine?”

Feyd-Rautha’s face storms over. “We have servants for that, Uncle. Besides, have Rabban do it for you. This banquet is for my benefit, after all, I should be allowed to enjoy it.”

The Baron studies him critically then, more sober than you thought possible. “Very well. Rabban?”

The mountainous man snatches the goblet from his uncle and vanishes to find a servant. You’re prompted to heap some of the food on your plate then, disconcerted by the lingering hand of the Baron and Feyd-Rautha’s obvious resentment.

Dinner passes without a hitch, your tardiness smoothed over by your status as the future Baroness. A small grace for such a tremendous burden.

You entertain the guests with stories of Arrakis and spice production, fielding their endless questions with as much charm and elegance as you can muster. And, frankly, it’s not as horribly daunting or tedious as you feared it to be.

The last course is coming to an end when a man strides up to the Baron with an expression of self-importance. He’s dressed similarly to the other Harkonnen guards but there’s something different about him — where the Harkonnens you know are arrogant about their strength, he hides it well. You immediately start to eavesdrop.

“The Emperor needs you for an urgent matter,” the strange man whispers into the Baron’s ear.

The Baron nods as if he’s been expecting this, and then without a word abandons his feast and glides after the man.

Feyd-Rautha had been surveying the party when you ask him, “What urgent matter?”

He sips his wine. “I don’t know.”

Ha, you think, he had been eavesdropping too. You frown. “He didn’t tell you?”

“My uncle does not tell me everything,” Feyd-Rautha replies. There’s a trace of anger in his voice, but it’s difficult to tell whether it’s pointed at you or the Baron.

Either way, this irritates you. You decide to provoke the beast. “What, like you don’t tell me when our engagement dinner is?”

Feyd-Rautha’s gaze cuts to you. “You’re upset.”

“Yes I’m upset,” you hiss. “I thought I warned you not to humiliate me again. Tonight was inexcusable, you filthy —”

“Ah, careful, wife. You must mind your words before our court. And my oafish brother.” He indicates Rabban with a slight incline of his head. You spot the older Harkonnen approaching with quite the entourage and you scowl. “Don’t make that face. Remember, this is a joyous occasion.”

“How could I forget?” You mutter miserably.

At your side, Feyd-Rautha is a study in beauty. Not in the classical sense, of course, but that of something devastatingly cruel and dangerous, the glint of a newly sharpened blade or the ocean during a storm. Breathtaking, in both senses. Unwittingly, you trace the slope of his brow, his handsome nose, the cushion of his plush lips, and you feel the familiar flicker of attraction.

“Where were you?” Feyd-Rautha asks without looking at you, still watching the party.

“Hm?” Did he know you were studying him? “What did you say?”

“I asked where you were. Before.”

“Oh.” There’s something in his voice that suggests that he knows exactly what you were doing. Your moment in the shower emerges unbidden in your mind, of your hand between your legs and his name in your mouth. You answer as flippant as possible, “I was waiting for you.”

Feyd-Rautha finally sets down his goblet. Rabban is taking his time returning, regaling his entourage with an undoubtedly riveting story, so the na-Baron must feel secure in your privacy.

“You forget that those are my quarters too, wife, and the walls are very thin.”

Shame creeps up your throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, is that right?” Feyd-Rautha grabs the bottom of your chair and pulls you closer to him. Any outside observer would simply think you’re having a regular conversation, which you suppose is the point, but there’s nothing regular about the way he slides his hand across your thigh and dips down to your heat. “Then I didn’t hear you touching yourself, whimpering and pleading for me? For my fingers? My cock?”

“I thought I was —”

“Alone?” He clicks his tongue. “If you didn’t intend for me to hear, then should I not give you exactly what you were begging for?”

It’s only too easy for him to nudge your dress aside and acquaint himself with your cunt, slide his fingers along your swollen lips and tease your entrance. You inhale sharply, without permission. He takes that as an invitation to delve a finger into your slick cunt.

“Feyd —”

“Tell me you don’t want it.”

You swallow, throat working. Rabban is finishing his story, evident by his boisterous laugh and then beckoning his entourage to the table. Feyd-Rautha keeps one finger inside you, unmoving, a sensation unfolding within you that you certainly won’t be able to ignore.

The rest of his hand cups between your thighs, a reminder to you, as long as you yield to him.

“Just say the words, and I won’t,” Feyd-Rautha says, his lips on the shell of your ear.

You’re frozen in indecision. When Rabban rejoins you, you’re sure that Feyd-Rautha will revoke his teasing hand. But instead he rocks his palm against you and drives his finger, then another, deeper inside you with dizzying ferocity.

You grip the edges of the chair, the force of his fingers cleaving through you, invoking a wave of pleasure that ripples throughout your body. It takes everything in you not to cry out.

“Brother, you remember my friends,” Rabban says. His cheeks are reddened by the spice-laden alcohol and he is oblivious to what’s occurring underneath the table. “Uriens and Ze’ev.”

Feyd-Rautha says smoothly, “Of course.”

“Uriens, Ze’ev, this is the Lady Y/N,” Rabban introduces you. He indicates each friend in turn — Uriens, a man of notable stature but a blank gaze, and Ze’ev, slightly smaller and sporting a sneer.

You dip your head and hope it’s enough to count as a greeting. You don’t trust your voice, not with Feyd-Rautha’s ministrations. Your cunt pulses with each one, clamping down on him, even the slightest of withdrawals enough to ruin you. Fortunately for you, or not, Feyd-Rautha shows no interest in stopping, curling his fingers in and out of you with agonizing precision.

“We wanted to speak to you about tomorrow, actually,” Uriens says.

Feyd-Rautha’s eyes narrow. “What about it?”

“What —oh! What’s tomorrow?” You ask. As soon as you speak, Feyd-Rautha pushes another finger in to join the others, spurring your body to jerk in response. You suppress a shudder.

Uriens, Ze’ev, and Rabban look too intent to notice your falter. Uriens explains, albeit with less enthusiasm, “We want to partake.”

Feyd-Rautha’s jaw flexes. His pace slows as he considers this request, and it’s almost more torturous than his persistent thrusts.

“No,” he finally says.

Rabban’s face darkens with anger. “Why not?”

“Traditionally those who partake do so because they are interested in the hand of the wife.” His tone veers dangerously close to a growl. “Are you telling me that you wish to take her from me?”

Uriens eyes widen. “No, na-Baron, we —”

“We understand the ceremony is purely customary. We ask only for a chance to partake in the revelry,” Ze’ev cuts in.

“There is no killing,” Feyd-Rautha says.

Uriens and Ze’ev nod. “Yes, na-Baron.”

“Then I don’t see why you shouldn’t partake.”

You bite back a moan as Feyd-Rautha then resumes his ministrations. You ask, “What’s tomorrow?”

You’re impressed that you manage to keep your voice even.

The Harkonnens exchange glances as if they’re reluctant to answer you. The slight one, Ze’ev, says, “Dessid aperr. The Crucible.”

“It doesn’t concern you,” Feyd-Rautha says.

Your indignation overcomes your pleasure, and you glare at him. “It does if my hand in marriage is being fought over.”

“The Crucible is a ceremony dating back to Emperor Shakkad the Wise,” Uriens eagerly says, jumping to please you. “When a Harkonnnen of noble standing is to be wed, they will engage in a battle against the other noblemen for the hand of the bride. To ensure that the strongest bonds are forged.”

Feyd-Rautha pumps his hand violently against you, and you feel your orgasm building. You grip the chair even harder. “I would like to partake.”

“The brides are not permitted to watch,” Uriens says. Rabban and Ze’ev both glare at him.

“I don’t want to watch. I want to fight.”

“Absolutely not,” Feyd-Rautha rasps.

“Why not?” You ask. You hope the breathy sound of your voice comes across as petulant and not aroused.

Rabban answers, “That’s how it’s always been.”

Feyd-Rautha glances at you. He must know that you’re close, can feel it in the way that you clamp around him. “Wife, is that what you want? Tell me.”

“Y-Yes,” you stammer.

He says, “Tell me that you want it.”

“I want it,” you breathe out, both of you aware of what he’s actually referencing.

More words form on your tongue but you’re unable to say it — your pleasure mounts as Feyd-Rautha buries his fingers inside you with swift finality and your orgasm seizes you. It’s white-hot and dazzling as it tears through you, walls contracting, his fingers stroking you to the end. A shudder racks through you.

Pulse hammering and your thighs trembling, Feyd-Rautha withdraws his fingers. He rises abruptly to his feet. Horror dawns on you as he then pushes his fingers into his mouth and licks them clean. Without so much as glancing back at you, Feyd-Rautha says, “Very well. Don’t be late this time.”

You stare after him. The aftershocks of your orgasm rumble through you — you can’t believe that he just did that then left you to deal with the aftermath. Uriens and Ze’ev stare at you in equal parts confusion and shock, while Rabban sneers at you, seemingly more aware than you thought.

You clear your throat. “Well, that’s been settled.”

“Something has been settled,” Rabban replies. His expression is nearly impossible to read, but the comment makes your cheeks heat up.

“You hold considerable sway over the na-Baron,” Ze’ev says.

You stand, smoothing down your dress and trying to maintain some semblance of composure. It’s difficult when your thighs are still slick, the memory of his fingers imprinted in your mind.

“I will be the na-Baroness,” you remind Ze’ev. “I hold considerable sway over everyone here.”

And with that you leave without excusing yourself, feeling the burn of their gazes on your back. It’s suddenly too warm in the Great Hall for you, the sweaty, lingering bodies suffocating. You’re not quite sure where you’re going. Certainly not after Feyd-Rautha. Though you can’t stop the way that your heart skips hopefully when you feel a hand grab your arm.

“What are you doing?” Asha hisses, spinning you around. “The party isn’t over.”

Post-orgasm clarity is eluding you. You shake your head. “I know, but —”

“Also, what was that shit earlier?” Asha asks. She adjusts her hold on a tray laden with champagne glasses. “There was some weird tension in that room. Don’t involve me in your weird — whatever, with the na-Baron again. Do you hear me?”

You nod stupidly, although you’re not entirely sure it’s a promise you can make.

Asha studies you. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you lie. “But I’m going to retire to my quarters. Can you cover for me?”

“Yeah, of course,” Asha says, obviously not convinced.

You huff out a breath. “I’m going to need the rest if I’m participating in the Crucible tomorrow.”

Asha nearly drops the serving tray. “The what?”

“I’ve been invited,” you say, which is also a lie.

“What?” Asha presses the heel of her hand to her forehead. “What is wrong with you, Y/N?”

To avoid her gaze, you take to scanning the party. You know perfectly well what’s wrong with you and you’re searching for his face even now, despite the fact that he’s the last person you want to see. You sigh. “I wish I could tell you.”

Part 5

Taglist:

@moonsoulk @heartarianagran @torchbearerkyle @unicoreads @taleah @mamawiggers1980 @jovialeggsbailiffsoul @harkonnin @avidreader73 @unicorntrooper @beebeechaos @kamcrazy123

#dune #feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #fanfic writing #writers on tumblr #writing #fanfic #feyd smut

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sarawritestories · 2 months

Note

Heyy I read your period fic with cassian and I absolutely adored it! I love how you write cassian as a caring male...and honestly I would envision Helion the same too with his partner/mate when she is on her cycle...If its not too much of a hassle...i wanted to request a helion x reader fic where they are sleeping together but when reader wakes up in the middle of the night and sees that she has bled through the sheets and this is her first time having her period in front of Helion so she is terrified and nervous of Helion waking up and seeing the mess she has made..but Helion ends up waking up with only wanting to take care of the reader and help her with her cramps❤️

Hi Anon, Yes, and as I have just fallen victim to my own cycle, I felt it was appropriate to get some Helion loving here because a high lord taking care of their mate in pain is Yummy!

I'm sorry this took so long!

Fuck Propriety

Helion X Autumn Court Fem Reader

Summary: You got your cycle for the first time staying over with your mate. When the High Lord of the Day Court finds you on the floor writhing from the pain, Helion begins to take care of you, whether you want it or not.

Content Warning: bad cramps, bleeding through sheets. Swearing, but the title makes that a given. A little bit of self-loathing sprinkled as well.

ACOTAR MASTERLIST

Unrelenting pain awoke you from your sleep. Creaking your eyes open as a wave of cramps attacked your body. Suppressing a whimper, you sat up, and the familiar sensation hit you, followed by the scent of your blood. Your eyes widened.

No. No. No. No.

You looked over at your sleeping mate, his brown toned back rising and falling with his breaths. Even in his sleep, Helion was regal. Shame swept over you like a violent current in the Summer Court. The first time you stayed with your mate in his court and you had gotten your cycle.

How could you be so careless?

You found out Helion was your mate 6 months ago. Swept up by his beauty and playful personality, you must have forgotten to keep track of your cycle. You spent most of your time admiring Helion and his freedom to express himself the rest spent making sure you were poised and presentable, suitable, for a High Lord just as your mother taught you. How living in the Autumn Court had taught you.

Helion's kindness and warmth had lowered your walls slightly, and you felt comfortable talking with him. Had you been keeping better track, you would have rescheduled your visit to the Day Court Your mother's voice rang loudly in your ears:

How would a High Lord trust you with an heir if you can't even keep track of your cycle?

Her words stinging in your mind as another wave of cramps hit you. Gritting your teeth to prevent you from crying out, you tried to move only for more pain to erupt from your abdomen. Sweat coating your brow, you breathed through the cramps, trying hard not to disturb the sleeping high lord beside you. Finally, the pain eased, and you gently slid out of the bed.

Turning back toward the mattress, you felt tears begin to form as a giant stain of blood glaring back at you. Your mother's voice rang out once more:

Stupid child, how can the High Lord ever respect a mate that sullies his finest sheets the first time she stays over?

You clenched your hands into fists so tightly you hadn't realized you broke skin, as two words kept repeating over and over.

Bad Mate. Bad Mate. Bad Mate.

You ran to the bathroom, right as you had shut the door, you were attacked by another aggressive wave of cramps. The pain over took your senses as you collapsed to the floor. The cool marble floor was a welcome reprieve to your feverish skin. You could only manage to focus on the pain you hadn't realized that you were screaming or that the bond was now open and everything you were feeling was being sent down the gold thread to Helion.

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

You heard your name being called repeatedly. You opened your eyes to meet the concerned golden hues of your mate's. Your body had fallen unconscious. You were so devoured by the pain to notice. "Sunshine, are you alright?" Helion's voice grounding you from the pain that began its relentless attack. He had laid your head on his lap his fingers running through your sweat coated hair.

"You aren't supposed to see me like this." You whimpered as your body rides out the pain, a fresh scent of copper flooding your nose as you cover your face in embarrassment. "Go back to sleep, I promise I will be okay."

Helion's fingers pulled from your hair and his hands engulfed your wrist, pulling them away from your face to see a fresh batch of tears. His dark brows furrowed, "You expect me to go to bed?"

You had forgotten about the bed sheets now soiled with your blood. "No, of course not, High Lord, not until I put clean sheets on, I will go-" You sit up and try to stand only for your cramps to send you back to your knees. A grunt of agony escaped your lips as toned muscular arms wrap around your waist and pull you back to a sitting position. He pulled your back flush with his bare chest, his body providing warmth to your clammy form. Helion places his hands over your womb, and his fingers begin to massage it, dissipating the pain. You sobbed at the relief his kneading does for the pain. Yet your mind still fought, "Helion, I have to clean up my me-"

Helion was swift to cut you off, "You will do no such thing. The only thing I want you to do right now is sitting right here with me and listening. Can you do that for me, Sunshine?" You nodded your head and leaned against his shoulder. His hands found yours as he intertwined your fingers, providing you with a sense of calm. "Good, first things first, you are never to call me High Lord. Ever! Unless my head is in-between your delicious thighs, then you may moan out my title as much as you please."

You hummed at the thought of your mate's tongue against you, your eyes fluttered closed, and Helion chuckled at the scent of your arousal. Another round of pain hit you, and Helion adjusted his hold so your knees and back were secure and hoisted you up. With his magic, he filled the tub with steaming water, and with a snap of his fingers, the two of you were undressed. He placed you in the tub, a moan escaping your lips as the heat of the water began relaxing your muscles. Helion slid into the spot behind you and began rubbing your shoulders.

"Sedondly," Helion continued, "When you are ill or in pain, I am responsible for taking care of you. I promised you as much when the bond snapped into place. No, I will not let you clean up your bloody sheets. No, you will not be bathing alone on your cycle and trying to manage your pain alone. I will not allow it. I want to take care of you. So please let me know." His lips find the side of your head and presses lightly. His long dark curls fall down your shoulder as he moves his lips to your cheek and down your neck, causing you to giggle.

After he stopped his kisses, he turned your head so your eyes met his once more. "This last one is important, so pay attention." He sighed and placed a tender kiss to your lips, sending love down the bond. "You do not have to be prim and proper with me. You are mine. I will love you no matter what. I've been trying to get that wall, your mother built around your heart, since we met. The wall that doesn't allow you to bask in the sunlight on a warm day. The one that doesn't allow you to dance with me in the kitchen like no one is watching. The one that doesn't let me kiss you in public, in front of our court."

"Our court?" You blinked.

His full lips curved into a grin, showing immaculate teeth, "Our court, did you think you were going back to Autumn after this visit, Sunshine." You blushed. That's exactly what you thought you should have known better.

You frowned slightly, "But It's not proper to sho-"

Helion growled, "Fuck Propriety! I love you. And I want everyone to know it." His eyes softened as he placed a tender kiss on your shoulder. "Sunshine, I want you to know how much I love you. I want to show you that love. I want you to feel comfortable showing me your emotions. If you were, maybe you would have woken me up to tell me what was going on. Because you weren't open, and you didn't tell me; I woke up to feeling this heavy pain in my chest realizing the pain was shooting down the bond, the scent of your blood and you screaming in the bathroom. When I found you unconscious, I..." He paused, and you placed a hand on his cheek, turning your whole body to face him. He shook his head, the beads in his hair glimmering in the fae light. He gave you a sad smile as he leaned into your touch. "I just want you to be comfortable here to be who your truly are. To be able to express yourself and to ask me for help when you need it."

You bit your lip for a moment for a moment before whispering, "What if I don't know who I am?"

Helion's smile gave you butterflies in your stomach as he pressed his lips to yours. Pulling away he placed his forehead onto yours, "Then we will discover who you are together. What a fun adventure that will be." His tone held genuine excitement.

"And you will still love me?"-

"Until my dying breath, Sunshine." He kissed you once more.

"I love you." You blurted out, heat rising to your cheeks at the confession.

Helion chuckled, "And I you, now let's get you cleaned up.

So Helion washed you from head to toe. As the two of you began to talk, you began to truly open up to him, and in the conversation, you forgot about the pain. He dried you off and gave you some linen to line your underwear to help with the bleeding, along with his shirt to wear, knowing you would find comfort in his scent.

He led you to the bedroom where there were fresh sheets, a steaming cup of tea, and a tonic for the pain. No male had ever been this attentive to your needs before. Tears began to run down your cheeks, and Helion was quick to kiss them away. "None of that. Come now." He had you sit on the edge of the bed where he tilted your chin up slightly and pressed the vial with the tonic to your lips, which you greedily took. Then he handed you the tea and made his way to his side of the bed. He watched as you placed the mug on the nightstand, and his arm snaked around your middle, gently pulling you toward his body. You laid down and adjusted yourself to face him. He kissed the tip of your nose and smiled, "Say it again, Sunshine."

You knew exactly what he was asking for. "I love you, Helion."

He pulled you close, your head laying on his bare chest. "I love you too." Your eyes drifted closed as you fell into a deep slumber, to the sound of your mate's heartbeat.

#helion x reader #helion acotar #helion spell cleaver #high lord helion #helion x fem reader #helion x you

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messyhairedhazeleyeddude · 5 months

Text

┊┊ཻུ۪۪♡ ͎. Aϝϝliƈƚiσɳ ┊┊ཻུ۪۪

彡 A Yandere!Gojo Satoru x Cursed!Male!Reader | SMUT 彡

＊ Contents ; Obsession, stalking, masturbation, masochism, kind of non-con sleep blowjob, rough sex, murder, handjobs, and worshipping.

＊ Dynamic ; Soft Yandere/Admirer to Lover

＊ Sexual Dynamic ; Sub!Gojo Satoru | Dom!Male!Reader

＊ P.O.V ; Third

＊ Age Range ; 18+ (This is younger Gojo by the way.)

＊ Music suggestion ;

┌──────── • ✧ • ────────┐

Satoru was a man of many. Intelligent, charming, unserious, and funny; he had no problem with meeting people outside and inside of school. Rather, he had quite a bit of friends, set up the day he was born with everything he needed for a social life. Handsome, strong, and labeled better than everyone else. That was him. And he knew this very well.

It was no secret that he took advantage of it. In his spare time, Gojo was known for hooking up with various women and men like it was some sort of fun game where he needed to collect as many bodies as he could. Just to be on top of the ‘Who’s most fuckable pyramid?’. It was his thing. He was number one. He needed to have everything. Just, because, he was Gojo Satoru.

Many spread the word on how he was in those behind-the-scenes exchanges, his fucking skills not short from all his other accomplishments, perfection at its finest. And one thing that was the most mentioned about the sorceror was how no one… NO ONE… could get him to fall for them. No matter how many times they gave him gifts, no matter how much they followed him, he never looked their way once after they got alone for a simple bang.

Instead, they’d be the ones to fall head over heels and never got over the rejection. That was his specialty. The reason why he gained a fan base. And he was flattered by it. Amused even. But, it never convinced him to get with any single one of them. That would never happen in a million years.

After many shunned attempts from his classmates, old friends, and one night stands to get with him on a relationship level, they assumed that Satoru was full-on Aromantic. That the man loved himself too much to get something like a crush. Or he was in a completely different world than them because of his power.

Those weren’t the real reasons as to why Gojo wasn’t interested in them, however. He just didn’t feel drawn to that vulnerability. How they were so easy to figure out with a simple look from him. Knowing everything like this was the biggest challenge for him. He was stuck, endlessly bored because all of his options were predictable, and not one of them entertaining enough. No threat. That’s how it was.

Until sophomore year of the Jujutsu college was when he came across someone out of the ordinary in the school hallway. He happened to be a new student, transferring from a completely different part of the world, and the amount of cursed energy leaking from his aura made the sorcerer stop in his tracks.

When the man turned to look down directly into Satoru’s eyes as he walked past him, it sent shockwaves through his spine and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. For the first time in his life, he found somebody that he was unable to read.

At first, he was in denial about it. He couldn’t understand why one person would be different from the rest when it came to his perception. So, to figure it out, he began to follow the guy around.

Don’t ask why he didn’t approach him first, he didn’t know why, but he couldn’t. His heart would beat irregularly and he’d start to sweat, his entire chest and face heating up if they locked eyes at all. Maybe it was because his [E/C] orbs were intimidating or because he was extremely fucking good-looking. Maybe both. All he knew was that he never experienced it before and that was terrifying.

He started with small stares from afar, prop up near the places he would spot him and watch what he would do for several minutes. Waiting until he left to walk right behind him and see where else he would go.

So far, he was about as normal as anyone else in routine. He’d walk to his classes, do his work, and focus hard on his studies throughout lunch. Burying his nose in books upon books that the white-haired man would never pick up. Yet, what he found intriguing was his lack of interest in others.

The man didn’t socialize, ever. He would get up from his seats and tables whenever somebody would sit next to him. If they tried to talk to him, they were ignored like they were a wall. He’d ignore them, throw their notes to him in the trash, and any project he was assigned to was made for him to be alone. It was almost near impossible to grab a name. Thankfully, the system needed it to enroll and that was easy to get to.

Now, he knew that it was wrong of him to invade his personal space and illegal. But, Gojo had a severe problem with boundaries and it didn’t help that he could get away with it by teleporting. Also, he just didn’t care. A little curiosity never hurt him.

Eventually, he got to rummaging through the school records in the late hours of night, finding a file containing a name he didn’t recognize, ‘[L/N] [F/N]’. Pulling it out of its box, he opened it to check the picture and came face-to-face with a question mark box in place of it. His eyebrows furrowed and he scanned through the rest of what was listed about him.

The description of his features and classes were all there, things that he already knew, the basic stuff. But, this confirmed that [F/N] was his name and that’s all that mattered. Satoru was about to close the document and put it back before he glanced down at a small paragraph that read:

‘[L/N] is reserved to be under tight supervision and security conditions. He shall never be allowed to leave the city or Jujutsu without permission. If it falters, we will initiate our final plan.’

He narrowed his glowing blue eyes at the ominous writing, thumbing over the edges of the page while he thought to himself quietly, ‘I wonder… Is he as good as me?’ That idea crossed his mind and didn’t leave him alone. ‘Someone stronger than me… Is that possible?’ His fingers folded the paper back to where it belonged while trying to ignore himself, tucking it safely, and closing the drawer to make it look like nothing was tampered with. Then he turned around to get to heading out, not seeing the large figure looming in the shadows behind him.

It was by the time Gojo hopped out of the window he used to break into the room, that he realized [F/N] was plaguing every corner of his brain. He couldn’t stop thinking about him. Like his face was burned into his memory.

His gloomy, [E/C] eyes that bore a hole through him whenever he caught his attention. That sharp nose that gave him an edge, scrunched up at anyone that passed by. Plump, pouty lips that would frown as soon as he was being bothered. God, and that soft red tone resting in the middle of them, it made him think of the worst perverted things he could possibly come up with.

Satoru was tripping over his feet trying to get back to his dorm room, using the roofs of buildings, and traveling at a rate he could when dealing with a boner this bad.

Finally, right as he stumbled into his place, he began unbuckling his belt and sliding it off to throw it loosely onto the floor somewhere. He got most of his clothes off of him and left his boxers to be the last thing pulled off, his dick springing free and brushing over his lower stomach before he wrapped his slender hand around the base.

He played with his tip for a minute, beads of pre-cum sliding down and coating his fingers. Letting him cover his shaft the more he pumped. It was throbbing, blushing pink like cotton candy, and glistened in the moonlight of his room. And oddly enough, all of this was being done to a fantasy of sucking [F/N] off.

Gojo had never touched himself to someone individually before. Especially to someone he hadn’t hooked up with. And not in a way where they were on top or it wasn’t solely based on sex.

This was new to him and he was losing himself to it, badly. His hips thrusted upwards into his hand, the other one reaching up to his mouth so he could suck on his fingers and coat them with spit. Finishing getting them wet, he positioned two of them against his hole and slowly forced it inside.

He closed his eyes and imagined it was [F/N]’s, groaning at the abnormal feeling of being finger-fucked but enjoying it more than anything else. It barely took a couple of times of ramming them in before his cum began to spurt out in huge amounts. Decorating both his stomach and his hand in a stringy design.

After that night, Satoru came to a conclusion on how he felt about the [H/C]-haired man. This proved to be very, very frustrating.

The urge to see [F/N] was constant. It got so bad that he was leaving zero to little time for his friends, spending most of it on lingering near his newfound crush and drooling over any tiny thing he would do. And this went on for weeks.

Until one day, his obsession hit an all-time high. He was following him into the locker rooms like usual, having memorized this to be his routine whenever he was going to get ready for training. Although, to his disappointment, the guy would use his shirt and towel to cover himself when he changed. So he never even got a single peek.

But, today seemed to be different because [F/N] didn’t head toward his locker. He went in the direction of the showers, carrying a couple of items with him that looked like clothes and necessities. Excitement and nervousness rushed through Satoru. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he was going to get to see the man in all of his glory.

To keep himself from being detected, he was suspended in the air near the ceiling in a sitting position, patiently watching him arrange the shampoo and conditioner bottles before gripping the hem of his black fitted shirt.

[F/N] stripped it off of him, going at a slow pace that was teasing the hell out of him. Gojo was on the edge of his seat as he took in every bit, biting his bottom lip when he got to his pants and slipped them off of his slim waist. His build was impressive and so was his stature, enough to make Satoru draw blood from how hard he was digging his teeth in.

It wasn’t surprising that the white-haired man went straight to unbuttoning his pants and pulling his hard-on into view. Watching how he washed his body and cleaned his hair, struggling to hold in his moans while getting off to the sight. He barely got past five minutes before he was cumming mid-air, the droplets landing in the corner and making a bit of noise, causing Gojo to abruptly rush out of there as soon as he saw him turning his head.

His back was pressed against the wall on the other side of the showers, his chest moving up and down, the butterflies in his stomach swarming. He reached down to tuck his dick back in and zip it up, glancing at his hands that were dirtied with his jizz. Satoru sighed, in disbelief at his own actions before he went for the nearby sinks to wash them off.

Just as he did that, the shower was turned off and out stepped [F/N] a minute later. He passed by him while he was drying his hands off, causing Gojo to tense. His beating heart hadn’t even calmed from what happened not too long ago, he couldn’t handle this. So, he spun around and bolted for the door faster than the two of them could speak.

A small smirk quirked up the side of the [H/C]-haired man’s mouth, his gaze drifting toward the disappearing back of him, smug with a glint in his eyes.

Eventually, days had passed and Satoru was still in the same routine with chasing around his crush everywhere. Except it spread to him casually visiting his place in the middle of night to spend the rest of it either watching him sleep or pleasing himself outside of his window.

There would be times where he would break in and take his things to use like boxers and lotion. But, he tried to make it unnoticeable. He cared about stealth. That was until one of those nights, [F/N] decided to wear nothing but underwear.

Gojo’s blue eyes were glued on his figure, feeling like it was his lucky day to get to see something as rare as this. He was used to him wearing tank tops and basketball shorts, a small peep of his waistband was the most action he’d get if the man happened to move. Getting too excited, he was already sliding his sweatpants to his knees, shoving a hand in to get to jerking off for the millionth time. He couldn’t get tired of it when it came to him.

But before Satoru started, he realized that the window had been cracked open slightly. It was left open. Open…

He stopped what he was doing to push the rest of it upward, climbing inside of the tidy room and shutting it right after. The warmth and the quiet atmosphere invited him in, making him almost feel at home. That wasn’t wrong considering he was found in this place daily, scouring and finding out any thing that he had in this room. Which wasn’t much. Only thing that he was interested in was the locked box under his bed. Though, he couldn’t bust it no matter how hard he tried.

Looking down at the peaceful, sleeping [F/N] made his mind wander to a darker side of lust, his orbs brightening like diamonds as he let his sweats drop to the floor along with his boxers. He stepped out of them and lifted himself using his ‘Infinity’, hovering over him and getting the real picture of their size difference.

Gojo steadied his breathing as best as he could while flicking his eyes over his boxers, peeling them off bit by bit. He had to be extremely slow, careful than ever. Because if he woke up, who knows what would happen to him? And that risky feeling was more than enough fuel for the sex-crazed man.

Once [F/N]’s dick was exposed, Satoru had expected to see it flaccid, but it was already halfway hard. ‘Hm? Is he having a wet dream?’ He came to that conclusion. His excitement worsening because of the assumption and ended in him jumping the gun. He lowered down to where his tip was, giving a small kitten lick and watching his expression to see what would happen.

He knew it was a terrible idea to do what he was planning on. But, he didn’t want to stop what he was doing either. Actually, the fantasy of him finding out was really hot to him. What would he do? Would he get upset? Degrade him a bit? He was sure he could get off to that too.

[F/N] furrowed his brows a little and a noise similar to a grunt came from him, letting Gojo have the clear to go further. He placed his entire tongue on it, swirling around the head of his dick at a medium pace, and tasting his salty pre-cum with a satisfied look on his face. God, how long had he wanted to do this? He couldn’t keep track. It wasn’t that long of a wait but to him, it was like he served decades in prison, being teased with the keys in the cell next to him.

More grunts slipped past [F/N]’s pretty lips, falling onto his ears, and encouraging him to take more into his mouth. He hollowed out his cheeks while bobbing his head up and down to give the finishing touch, pulling out his phone at some point to snap a thirty second video of what he was doing for safekeeping. Every sound of his was making his own cock leak with arousal, dripping onto his bed, and reminding him that he needed attention too.

He dropped the device to move his hand back down, stroking his shaft and playing with the slit on his tip, muffling his moans on [F/N] and getting dirtier with the blowjob. His spit was running down the sides of him, messy and spreading around his mouth. The bobbing turned into a circle motion and he progressively got faster and faster. Feeling his dick twitching once he deepthroated.

The [H/C]-haired man’s legs lifted slightly, bending his knees while he thrusted upward. His eyebrows completely knitted together and his noises only sounding more intense. He was nearing his end, Satoru could tell. And it was then that he popped his mouth off, gasping for air, making his other hand wrap around to jack him off at a speed so quick that there was no time lost.

He stuck out his tongue and pressed it right against the landing zone, an odd euphoric look to his eyes as he soaked in the moment like it was his biggest achievement yet. That was until he saw those [E/C] ones piercing right back at him, the color of them being replaced with a… glowing, dark purple? What?

In an instant, Gojo’s hair was swept through and grabbed into a fistful, lifted off of him and thrown into the wall next to them with a force strong enough to cause him to go through it. His eyes went wide, staring directly at the frightened face of one of his classmates who was awoken by the loud impact and flying drywall. Barely a second into the exchange of words through looks with the girl, he was yanked back into the room, and the men rolled together onto the ground.

[F/N]’s palm slapped across his mouth, digging his thumb and all of his fingers into both of Satoru’s cheeks; turning him around to face towards his chest so he could pin him down better. His other hand was locked tightly in a grip around his wrists, both of his knees underneath his legs, his usual cold stare replaced by rage. And what he was hoping earlier felt heard all of a sudden.

There, he got to meet his crush for the first time and have that closeness he’d been hoping to get. Or just a simple word back. Something. He craved for his attention so bad that he could threaten him and it’d still satisfy his desire.

Gojo’s surprise slowly shifted into a wide smile, his eyes having a crazier spark to them while he giggled, figuring out what [F/N] had done. It was a trap.

The sound of a concerned voice interrupted before he could speak, “Gojo-kun? Are you okay?” Satoru mentally sighed, his expression dropping to half-lidded annoyed glare. He heard a brief slip of a laugh from [F/N] and raised his brows in shock, thinking he was amused by his face until he felt something pushing against his lower body, entering right inside of his hole.

No, he wasn’t laughing at that. He was laughing because he was enjoying the fact he was going to be exposed. Satoru should’ve been turned off by that, but rather he was loving it himself. He didn’t know why. This was so unlike the upcoming head of the Gojo clan. Although, he lost it already once [F/N] buried most of his thick length inside of him. His soul looked like it was being possessed, a purple glazing over his blue eyes.

Thankfully, he was stretched out by his fingers previously because the width of his cock was big enough to still make it feel uncomfortable. His thrusts rough as soon as he got most of it in. He didn’t think it would hurt this much, feel this amazing too. The combining sensations fucking with his brain and making him melt into the powerful man’s hold.

[F/N] was inside of his head. Literally. He could hear him whispering things in there through his technique, “You’re mine, Six Eyes. All of that cursed energy… It’s mine now.” Mind manipulation. That was his technique. He figured it out.

No wonder he couldn’t understand what it was at first. It was one of the main attributes of the special grade cursed object, ‘[M/N]’s Needles’. That means that the small marks on his forehead weren’t birthmarks, it was needles, deep into his own skull.

A smirk grew on the side of [F/N]’s mouth when he saw the ‘Aha!’ look across Gojo’s face, an extremely low, nerve-wracking voice coming out of him as he leaned right next to the white-haired male’s ear to remind him, “You’re not winning anything. I think I’d like to take your offer up on making you my new fuck toy.”

Then the aggressive fucking from before turned into straight abuse on him, Satoru’s expression twinging through a mixture of exasperation and pure bliss. Locking eyes with the same girl he’d been stressing about when his eyes rolled up into the back of his head. She choked up and took a step back, watching her peer get destroyed. But not for much longer because she mysteriously got warped into space, disappearing from the room without any explanation.

Gojo peeked back at [F/N], psychotically smirking and letting out a string of loud, slutty moans and groans. Not holding back because he knew that nobody could stop them. Especially with such a strong curse at his side. Despite his knowledge on what he was doing to him, he also made sure he could take control of the situation too. And what that means is he formed a pact.

The young sorcerer leaned forward, summoning most of his strength to give him a kiss, struggling to keep his eyes open anyway. [F/N] didn’t kiss back, knowing what he was up to the second he heard the thought from Satoru. But, he kept insisting, pushing his lips harder and harder against his.

There was several attempts at rejecting him, but it didn’t matter. Even as [F/N] gripped his ass harshly with both hands, dug all of his nails in, and tore his bottom lip up more. He continued to plant the same kiss, going so far and desperate that he started making out with him. It didn’t matter if he responded to it because Satoru wasn’t just doing it out of tricking him into this pact. This was love. Twisted, fucked up, love.

[F/N] pulled away for the twelfth time, panting and surprised that he was holding on for this amount of time. By now, they’d be falling apart and passing out. And he had even switched it to his most effective position. Gojo’s back was pressed up on the wall, arched and his legs wrapped around his waist, struggling to hold on from him being quite tall. His hand was wrapped around his neck, squeezing hard to the point where he was coughing, making sure that he didn’t lift himself to kiss him anymore.

“Do you want to get yourself killed? Or do you want to cum and survive, asshole?” [F/N] spat, getting up to his face in a threatening manner. Satoru smiled back at him once again, managing to choke a sentence out, “I want both… please!” He was teasing him even in this situation. The grip on his soul never wavering yet he talked back. This pissed him the hell off.

Every ounce of his strength raged into Gojo immediately after that, the wall caving in on them, and the sheer volume of both of their techniques fighting one another in the midst of their exchange. His crystal blues spaced out and tilted up, staring off as he fell limp in [F/N]’s arms, his forehead pressing against his to give one last attempt.

The [E/C]-eyed man couldn’t resist the temptation. He didn’t know why. He didn’t think about it. He just did it. His lips smashed onto Satoru’s expecting him to be drained of anything that he could use against him. But, he was wrong. Dead wrong. If anything, the fate had been sealed right then and there from that action.

A knot was forming in [F/N]’s and his stomach as he panicked about the failure when feeling his power fade along with Gojo’s, the smile from before planting against his face right in the kiss they had. He tricked him into it. He fucking cheated.

So much anger was rammed into Satoru for the next few hours even after [F/N] and him finished at the same pace. His guts practically being filled with his seed over and over, then rapidly having it fucked in until it couldn’t escape. He paid him back for what he did. For ruining everything he had by tying a commitment to him he didn’t want. Although, for some reason, he couldn’t help but be impressed. Possibly looking forward to their time together.

|| Extra ||

Satoru weakly smiled at Geto and shook his head, answering his question on where he’s been the last couple of months with a soft sigh, “I’ve been getting around a lot. When you have this many fans, it’s hard to keep up.” The black-haired man looked at him, unamused; poking at his noodles. His baggy eyes seemed to be getting worse. Shoko chimed in a smart comment, “Is that why you’re getting hickeys now? You letting someone top you?”

Gojo froze and snapped his head at her, his serious face causing her to began laughing like crazy and exclaim out loud, “No way! So, it’s true! You are being bottom!” He raised his hands in the air at her and waved them around while denying it profusely, “You think someone can get one over me? Gojo! Satoru! Do you not know my name? What kind of crazy lady are you, huh?!”

They bickered back and forth until Geto split the two of them up and decided it was time for all of them to go their separate ways. He waved ‘Goodbye’ as he walked away, slipping his hands in both of his pockets before turning his head to look in an alleyway that he was barely about to pass. For a split second, he was sure he caught a glance of purple eyes peering back at him, but when he checked again; there was nothing.

He looked at the dark midsection of the buildings, waiting to see if something else would happen, and then walked on as soon as it appeared to be his mind playing tricks on him.

Little did he know, that later on in that same alleyway, after Shoko left Gojo alone. He was being fondled by the curse he now claims as his forever boyfriend and ‘fuck buddy’ who stood there, eavesdropping on him the entire day.

They switch roles in following each other. Happening to be [F/N]’s day. And they both couldn’t hold back the urge of wanting to fuck the shit out of the other all the time. Satoru never reluctant to letting the man have his way. And as he let the blue-eyed man finish from his hand, he dug his teeth into his shoulder blade, mentally shouting at him in his head, “Who’s on top again, pretty boy?! What did you say to them again?” His cum spurted everywhere onto the floor and his fingers, those eyes rolling back like usual while he muttered, “You, sir…. Only, you.”

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