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chososdiscordkitten · 2 months

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You're Mine!

Synopsis: riding choso nd giving him hickeys hehe ^-^

Pairing: Switch!Choso x Fem!Reader Content: No use of y/n, some plot, porn w/ feelings, bite marks, hickeys (m&f), lipstick prints, markings, topics of ownership, praise, riding, hair pulling (M), creampie

Dedicated to; this beloved anon, may your pillows be cold and fluffy 4 the rest of ur life <3

MDNI

Choso didn’t really understand the idea of hickeys and bite marks. Had he bitten you hard enough to leave a mark, wouldn’t it hurt? And aren’t hickeys just bruises made from his lips?

It didn’t really click in his mind, the idea of pain associated with pleasure- but if you asked him to, he would give you hickeys with a small nibble here or there.

Giving them was just another task he had to complete when it came to pleasing you- he would happily lap and suckle on the soft skin of your neck and leave blossoming marks on you if it meant you would be happy.

And when you gave them to him, he still didn’t get why. The process felt terrific, but the aftermath always felt raunchy. Like some horny teenagers who couldn’t control their affections. Or when people looked at the purpling marks on his neck with a little grimace on their faces.

But when you muttered something into his ear on your way down to the pale skin of his neck- “I want everyone to know you’re mine.” that’s when Choso started associating marks with some kind of ownership.

If little bruises and remnants of your lipstick where you had kissed him littered his neck, meant he was yours- that was something completely different. Gladly would he offer his skin for you to mark.

It changed the way Choso looked at the tedious process of giving you small hickeys on your neck and down the swell of your chest.

It transformed into a way of showing that you were his, just as much he was yours- and that no one else could come near you.

Wedding rings and necklaces with his initials were one thing—but having a reminder bruised onto your skin. There being no way of removing it other than with time. Just to show people you had a person and didn’t need another.

It made a particular depraved part of his brain twitch when he would see them on you. Even more when he would see them blooming on his own skin the following day.

Choso had half a mind to tattoo your name on him—just to have a permanent reminder of you etched on his body.

Nothing, not even time or soap and water, would remove it. But you swatted away those thoughts with the little tickles you would kiss on his skin.

Thinking how much more enjoyable hickeys and nibbles were than tattoos would be.

But then came the sad sight of the pretty, pinkish-purple marks fading to an ugly shade of yellow or green. Or the soap scrubbing away the marks your lipstick would leave on his pale skin.

It always made him mournfully graze the diminishing marks in the mirror.

Though that sight wouldn’t last long, you were always attentive to giving him fresh ones to look at when the fading ones would disappear.

What you liked most was how fucking sensitive he would get- a few open mouth kisses on his face or his neck, and he would be putty in your hands.

Even more when he’s sat on the couch beneath you- his hands lazily massaging the malleable skin of your thighs and his head to the side. Giving you the perfect angle to litter his skin with small circles of your spit- beneath the sheen of saliva, a blooming red mark left by your lips.

With every moan you would vibrate onto his skin- his hands would tighten their grip. Almost urging you to grind onto the growing tent in his as you lapped at his tender skin.

It didn’t help that you were barely wearing anything- a spaghetti strap tank that rode up your waist with every little grind his hands led you to make. And the only thing separating your core from his tented cock was a pair of panties.

Supposedly just to do laundry and watch a film while waiting for the first load to finish- your excuse being “There were no clean clothes.” when he asked why you were barely covered.

And him- a t-shirt and basketball shorts, no boxers because it was as you said, ‘No clean clothes.’

That’s what frustrated Choso the most. So fucking close to your cunt- but two stupid layers of clothing blocking his access. And his lips were far too occupied. Letting out small sighs of content mixed with little whimpers to voice his complaints.

But you felt just how desperate Choso was starting to get from the way his hips bucked up when you would lightly exhale onto his damp skin.

A wave of goosebumps rose on his skin with every nibble you would make.

Or how his soft sighs started sounding like whines as your soaked panties would press right against his leaky, clothed tip.

The whimper that left Choso’s lips bordered on a cry when you raised your hips away from him in the slightest. Inching your hand down his torso and dipping your fingers past the elastic of his shorts- your lips refusing to let up the peppering hickeys on his neck.

Your hand lightly grasped his eager shaft, smile forming on your lips against his skin as you released his cock from the prison of his shorts.

Pulling back and giving him a few gentle strokes as you gazing at Choso's expression. His eyes shut tightly, his bottom lip threatening to quiver with perched eyebrows. And the sharp hiss falling from his parted lips when the ridges of your fingers would roll over his tip.

Placing a soft kiss on his cheek before sliding your lips to his ear- “Pull them aside.” you commanded with a tone Choso swore you only used to get him to do what you wanted.

And it always worked.

His strong hand slid from your hip to your core- greeted with a drenched cotton center as you lapped at his sensitive ear. Whimpering from the light strokes mixed with every sweet exhale you made against the cartilage.

You couldn’t help the shuddering inhale that left your lips when his finger hooked onto the side of your panties and exposed your sopping cunt to the air. Wasting no time in sliding the tip of his finger up your soaked slit and feeling your hips rise from the feather-like touch.

As pent up and eager as Choso was- he's never been a monster. Didn’t matter how much precum leaked from his cockhead, he wanted to prep you before anything else.

But you, the complete opposite. Swatting away his eager-to-please hand with a playful scoff.

Choso parted his eyes and looked at you, pulling away from his ear with low eyes. His expression all but asking you if something was wrong.

You lip tucked between your teeth with a strong willed hand grasping at the side of his neck. Taking a humming tone, “Fuck the prep- I need you inside.” you whispered, rolling your palm over his tip and pressing a sloppy kiss onto his lips.

The kindness of granting you prep had slipped his mind entirely when you looked at him with hungry eyes. So fucking ravenous, you’d risk displeasure just to have his cock inside.

To have a part of him, inside.

Choso eased his grip on your sides, feeling your hand grasp right below his cock head and feeling your hips rise a bit more. A hand on the side of his neck with a tucked lip- bracing for the stretch.

The little moan that left his lips bordered on being a shuddering whimper at the heat emitting from your entrance. And when he felt the taught muscle of your cunt press right against his tip- Choso swore he would cum right then and there.

He had far too little time to prepare himself to not spurt his mess before any real fun started, and your denial for prep didn’t help. The look of pure and utter starvation in your eye, didn’t help.

The shared inhale of air as you lowered yourself onto him was saccharine to his ears.

Taught, slick walls that hesitated to welcome him, making his eyes shut again. As though Choso was inviting you to suckle on his neck again, he threw his head back onto the ledge of the couch with a throaty moan.

And your hips- stuttering with every inch you lowered yourself on. A sharp sigh left your lips before connecting them to Choso’s neck again. Littered with previous blooming marks of a reddish pink. Yet he wanted more.

And more, you had plenty to give.

Licking a soft stripe down his adams apple with moans vibrating against him. A soft huff leaving your lips when your clit was flush against his pelvis. Taking your hand and placing it on the hem of his t-shirt.

Pawing at his happy trail as you lightly rose yourself, your lips sucking on his neck with soft whimpers rumbling from his throat.

One of Choso’s hands rising up your side and taking the hem of your tank top with it. Pulling your lips from his neck as you slowly rode him. Arching your back to give him a better view of your clothed breasts and seeing Choso’s low eyes lock on them.

His hand rose past the mound of your breast and freed your nipple from the thin tank. His thumb gave a gentle swipe at the firm bud as your hips took on a frotting motion. His tip nudging right at the sensitive spot with every grind you made.

Choso broke the gaze he had on your breasts, batting his eyes up to you with a soft whimper. “You’re so pretty.” he hummed, leaning his lips onto the exposed swell of your breast, pressing a gentle kiss onto the soft skin.

Being able to feel his adoration in the sloppy laps and suckles he made at your chest.

Lips formed in a soft ‘o’ as your hands reached for the half-removed tank. Slipping it off in its entirety and feeling Choso's hand on your hip, dip beneath the cotton of your panties and grope your ass.

Your grinds grew in desperation with a slight ache forming in your inner thighs. Your hands slipping beneath his t-shirt and lightly clawing at his carved torso. The light stimulation of your clit grinding against his pelvis knocking more honeyed moans out of your lungs.

Barely able to withstand the burning in your lower spine from how slow you were going. You leaned forward, raising yourself from his cock and holding yourself mid shift. His mouth full of as much of your breast as he could have. (greedy)

Choso batted his eyelashes up to you, pupils in the shapes of hearts at the feeling of your cunt clenching around his shaft.

Trailing his hand from your rib down to your other cheek, two handfuls of ass being used as mounts as he rose his hips from the couch.

Unwilling to let go of your skin from his mouth- if anything sucking harsher as he plowed his hips up into you. A strained whine leaving your lips from the swift jab, giving Choso the confidence to continue his harsh thrusts.

Your hands roamed up his arms and settled in his hair, gladly ignoring the little chime that sounded from the laundry machine. Lightly tugging and feeling the grunts and moans rumble onto your tit with every harsh thrust he made.

The edges of your fingers lightly clawing at his scalp with an orgasm forming in your tummy. As though your twitching walls weren’t enough for Choso- he took his non-dominant hand from your ass, sliding to your inner thighs right where you connected with him.

Sucking harshly at any untouched patch of skin his plush lips could find.

His calloused ring and middle finger pressing against your puffy clit making your spine quiver with a shudder leaving your lips. A drawn-out curse littered between your moans was heard as a hymn to Choso's ears.

As though you were singing praise from the noises you couldn’t control. Looking up at you, the curve of your neck adorned with a light sheen forming from how worked up you were.

Releasing your skin from his lips with a little pop, his chest heaving with every whimper spilled from his lips. “Am I doing good?” he murmured against your skin.

A moan almost in frustration at the question left your lips. Choso’s fingers moving sloppily- unable to keep a pattern with his left hand as his relentless hips bucking into you, churning your brain to mush.

Placing his lips at your sternum- sucking harshly to create those little marks you so loved to see on your skin. As many as he could just to hear your compliments.

Barely able to comprehend his fish for praise- a sharp exhale left your lips. “D-doing so fuckin’ good.” was all Choso needed to hear to release that knot in his tummy he had been holding tightly from the second his tip pushed past your cunt.

Holding onto his orgasm for as long as he could- so fucking needy to have you finish before him.

But the twitching walls of your cunt made it too hard for him to keep his focus.

Pulling away from your sternum, Choso shut his eyes, his lips pressed tightly together and thrusting into you greedily- your lips barely able to form the words, “F-fill me up-” was the last thing Choso heard before doing as you commanded.

His hips rutted up into you in tandem with every vulgar spurt his cockhead made. White, thick and full of love coating your walls as he continued his mean thrusts.

Your mess mixed with his spend pooling at his base and dripping down his heavy balls. Choso’s fingers refused to let up- He needed to feel you cum on his cock.

And with your hands gripping vigorously at his hair- the moans that left your lips bordered on guttural as his hips continued their fast pace. Uncaring if he was overstimulating his cock- Choso was still hard for you.

His shoulders trembling with unfiltered grunts and whimpers leaving his lips against your skin as he continued.

Choso’s jaw was clenched, gripping so harshly at your ass his fingertips were turning white, his nose crinkled with his eyebrows pinched. His moans came out stifled from his nose, barely able to keep up the pace. Your tits bouncing in his face from his incessant jabs as you milked his cock for all he had.

Eyes rolling back from the harsh nudges his overworked tip made against your gspot, mixed with the merciless circles his fingers made against your cunt made your hands pull on his hair unwillingly.

A little tear falling down your cheek from the mouth-watering pleasure—and fucking finally. Your walls started fluttering around his shaft.

Choked whimpers graced Choso’s ears as his lips sloppily kissed at your sternum. Too overstimulated to give you any more marks of his adoration, and settling on a few lazy pecks.

Easing your hips back down onto his lap as your breathing steadied. Shivering inhales with lazy hands sliding from his scalp. Inhaling air with an upturn of whimpers as the remnants of his seed trickled out of you.

Resting your temple onto his shoulder with a pleased smile. His cock still throbbing inside of you as you caught your breath.

Blinking your eyes up at him as though you weren’t the one who instigated the mess that spilled between you.

Choso looked back at your pleased expression- fucked out and happy. A sprinkle of smugness in your smile, but still. you were happy.

Smiling to himself at how convincing the little glimmer in your eyes was- how you could convince Choso himself that you were innocent in all of this.

Knowing full well that he would be sent to go put that load of laundry to dry before coming back and giving you another load of his. And happy to do so.

(a.n) I doodled mpeg Choso, pregnant with my kids on company time. that's the level of insane im at rn

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wttcsms · 13 days

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proof of love;

physical traces that reveal just how much you truly mean to him

ft. tobio kageyama, kiyoomi sakusa, atsumu miya

KAGEYAMA, your skincare routine in his bathroom — tobio lives in a stereotypical bachelor pad; you walk into his apartment and it's the very definition of bare-bones. thin, cotton navy sheets line his bed, with one single flat pillow. he doesn't own a dining table, and instead just stands near his kitchen counter to consume his meals. he blushes and tells you that he's just a minimalist. despite it all, though, after fun nights out, you find yourself heading back to his place with him, sleepy and drunk and pouty. you wake up, instantly regretting not washing off your face, moping because "i'm so gonna break out now, tobio!" when kags visits your place, he opens his notes app to get the names of all the skincare products lining your sink. the next night out, you're being carried into his apartment, mumbling drunk incoherencies. instead of setting you down on his bed (which now has two fluffy pillows and a fruit-print comforter that he bought for you), he guides you two to his bathroom where he places you on the counter and starts trying to figure out which steps to do first to help you remove your makeup. drunk-you guides him every step of the way, and the warmth you feel in your chest and cheeks isn't from the drinks — it's from the gentle care of your boyfriend rubbing in an oil cleanser to strip off your makeup.

SAKUSA, your lipstick stains on his water bottle — kiyoomi likes everything in his life to be neat and tidy. he carries a tide pen in his pocket that he ends up using on your clothes more often than his own. he's particular with how his belongings are treated, and you know better than to mess with anything of kiyoomi's. you respect his boundaries and find his oddities endearing, but you feel so much more secure in your relationship when you realize just how loose his boundaries are when it comes to you. on a road trip, you're thirsty and he offers you his water bottle. you don't think too much about it until you finish drinking and instantly widen your eyes at the sight of pink encasing the rim — remnants of your lipgloss. before you can say anything or try to wipe it off, he reaches over and takes a swig from it without a second thought. you try telling him not to drink yet, but he just glances over at you before focusing back on the road. "why would i be bothered by that? i kiss you all the time, don't i?" it's his subtle way of telling you that what's his is yours; you don't need to walk on eggshells with him.

MIYA, a cheap ring that came in a plastic egg — the proposal doesn't go as atsumu plans. things rarely ever go as atsumu plans, but this time — this is the one time he needs everything to go perfectly. and it does: the photographer is well hidden and on time, the decorations came out fantastic, and the ring! the ring is stunning. it's what's on everyone's pinterest boards. the only issue is that he put the ring box in the wrong pants pocket! with sweaty palms and a pink flush creeping from his neck to his cheeks to his ears, he gets down on one knee. he manages to stammer out his proposal speech to you, and you're listening with tears brimming in your eyes and a watery smile on your face, and then, those beautiful eyes of yours widen in surprise when you see, not a velvet ring box, but a plastic orb being revealed to you. he quickly explains that this is not your real ring (no duh), but that in typical atsumu fashion, he messed up. "it's just a placeholder!!! i'll buy you five diamond rings, just don't say no!" you're not marrying atsumu because of the ring, you remind him, but you allow him to slip on the cheesy ring. it's made out of plastic and it's one of those cheap prizes that are available in those weird machines outside the grocery store; the machines where you insert a quarter and twist the knob and a mysterious plastic ball surprises you with a prize. he tells you it took him a dozen tries to get a ring. you're laughing and saying it's meant to be since the ring manages to fit you perfectly. even after getting your real engagement ring, you still keep the cheesy ring to this day. it's evidence that no matter what happens, atsumu will always go the extra mile for you.

#tobio kageyama x reader #kageyama x reader #kiyoomi sakusa x reader #sakusa x reader #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #headcanons #fluff #drabble #imagine #hq x reader #kageyama headcanons #sakusa headcanons #atsumu headcanons

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summerssover · 2 months

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𝐔𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 ⊹ ִֶָ ❲ 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵!𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ❳

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘, in which you and matt take some pics for his wallet

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆, sub!matt x fem!reader, passionate!matt x poc!reader

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒, suggestive content, language, oral sex (male receiving)

▐ ❝ 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ❞

𓏲 🎀🎱 𓂃 ✦ 💒

you and matt laid in his bed with your legs tangled in one another’s. the rooms was dim, nothing but the light of your phones screens glowing on your faces as you you curled under your boyfriend, both mindlessly scrolling on tiktok and a cozy smelling candle roaming the room.

you turned your body towards matt, “can i see your wallet?”

“okay”, he paused for a minute to look in your eyes, searching for a sign of seriousnous, “why?”

“just hand me the wallet please” you placed your hand between you, waiting for your boyfriend to give you his wallet.

matt reached over to the bed side table and handed it you. he watched with his head tilted in confusion as you flipped the wallet open. “your wallets’ so boring”

“yeah, you gonna buy me a new weirdo?”

you rolled your eyes at the amount of sass he threw at you straight off the rip. “no, you’re gonna put my picture in there”

matt softly laughed before he started to tease you a little, “you assume i want your picture in my wallet?”

“why would you not, do i need to find someone else who wants them?” matt looked at you once again and laugh but you weren’t amused, “don’t fucking play matt”

“shut the fuck up” he started as he got up from his position on the bed, taking you with him. “i would be honored to have your picture in my wallet babe”

he’s now sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling you in his lap.

“yeah cause you know better”

you mumbled what you could as he brought his face closer to yours for a sweet kiss. “what did you have in mind ?” he asked.

before you replied you stood up from his lap and made your way across the room to get the polaroid camera you threw in your bag.

handing matt the camera, you pulled him to the top of the bed as you got on as well.

“just take the pictures and enjoy the show baby”

the first article of clothing you decided to remove were your (his) sweats. underneath you had on a black skims thong to match with the shirt that stopped at the curve of your waist. matt felt his hands start to shake a little as you did seductive poses.

“you can start taking the pictures now”

he didn’t know if it was all in his head or if it was just the low partynextdoor now playing but everything was blurred out and he only saw you, completely focusing on you and forgetting about everything else. “my fault ma”

the first picture printed out was of you tall on your knees and grabbing on the strings of your thong, looking up at him with the most mesmerizing eyes. matt smiled down at the picture as it started to bleed through. “you look so beautiful baby, the flash makes your hair look amazing” he complemented.

matt absolutely loved when you defused your hair and it gets all fluffy, he’d lay in it like a pillow all day if he could.

you leaned over to get a view of the picture, a smiles formed on your face too once you saw the turn out then you kissed his cheek. “thank you sweet boy, common let’s take s’ more”

this time you removed the baby tee, revealing the black strapless bra that held you up. you laid your back on the bed and motioned him to come closer. you took one glance at matt and seen that he looked all hot and bothered, only feeding into your ego more and more. “what’s the matter, your acting like you’ve never seen my body before”

matt shook his head and and dropped the camera a bit, “you just look so good right now”

“and i appreciate that but you have one job right now” you smirked up at him, now having fun with being the one to do the teasing.

you fluffed out your hair while instructing, “okay i want these shots to be close and personal”

you made all types of poses before noticing matt wasn’t taking the pictures anymore causing you to look at him, questioning your boyfriend in your head.

“i’m so hard right now” he let out a deep sigh and you smiled “i can see that”

“you gonna help?”

you acted as if you were thinking for a second then shook your head, “help yourself, babe i wanna keep taking pictures”

“huh” he didn’t believe his ears right now, you created the mess and now you didn’t want to fix it. now propped up on your elbows you pulled down matt’s sweats along with his boxers causing his dick to spring out and slap the bottom of his stomach. taking it in your hand and spitting on it you started to pump your hand up and down a couple of times, giving him a head start. he threw his head back in pure bliss at the feeling of his girl taking care of him.

“you can multitask can’t you?”

at this point matt’s head was so fuzzy he couldn’t do anything but listen to you and agree. he nodded his head slowly and took himself into his hand, going up and down at the same rate as you

now that he was occupied you took this time to slip out of your bra, “you ready matt?”

his response was choked up but you could tell he was willing to push through for you. you guys took a couple of pictures before you noticed that matt started to shuffle in place a bit. his groans only got louder and you could now hear exactly how hard he was breathing.

bringing your hand to rub up his thigh and to rest on his v-line, letting your thumb brush over the defined muscle, you watch him as he got closer and closer to his climax.

“are you close sweet boy, you wanna cum all over my face? you teased and settled for his little whimpers hence you had already been hard enough on him.

“fuck yn”

“i know baby, let it out, don’t hold back on me”

you talked him through his orgasm while laying directly under his dick, as he leaked on your face and tits. you moan and closed your eyes in satisfaction of the small droplet that landed in your mouth.

moments later your bright smile beamed up at matt while the milky substance dripped perfectly down your face. matt gained his consciousness back and snapped a picture of the work of art in front of him. throwing the camera on the bed he dropped on hand to your nipple and smeared the cum into it. he then picked up the freshly printed polaroid and wore a shit eating grin, this was definitely the on he was using.

“you are unreal baby”

₊˚ˑ༄ؘ ❪ 𝙰𝚄𝚃𝙷𝙾𝚁'𝚂 𝙽𝙾𝚃𝙴 ❫ ✩₊˚. ◛ ·˚ ༘ ᝰ

⁀➷┊ ‧₊˚. IDK YALL I THINK THIS IS MY BEST ONE YETTTTT, i was listening to partynextdoor while writing this and when i tell you i need this man RIGHT NOW LIKE OMFGGGGG, but i hope yall enjoy and don’t hesitate to give me your opinions BYE LOVES 🩷

#black writers #chris sturniolo x black reader #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #nathan doe x reader #chris sturniolo #x black reader #chris sturniolo smut #jeremiah fisher x black reader #jeremiah fisher x reader #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo imagine #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt smut #chris smut #summersover #Spotify

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tarjapearce · 10 months

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Lips anon! AHHH MY HEART 😭 💕 good, good food.

I love how the wife grabbed Miguel's ass lol brought me back to my childhood with my parents when my mother would get upset at my father.

This muggy ass weather stewed up an idea. Miguel and the wife taking the kids to the pool, and she gers jealous because there are more eyes on him than she likes lol

Jealous wife? 👀👀 yes.

-----

Pool day. A little break from everything, school, work and stressful situations. Despite you protesting for not wearing the swimming suits Miguel had gotten you, he finally convinced you to wear his favorite. The white one, that fit a bit too snug on your breast and made your rear to look bigger and bouncier.

All clad underneath a pair of shorts and one of his shirts, a long a hat and sandals, a fanny pack on your side filled with sunblock, hair ties and sunglasses. Miguel wore a pair of swimming trunks with spider prints motifs, sandals, his sun glasses and a deep blue button shirt.

Floaties, towels, extra clothes, snacks and foods were packed in the car, a 2018 Red Ford Escape.

Gabi wore her swimming suit under the shorts and flowery button shirt. Benjamin wore his trunks and a little shirt with a spider logo.

------

Upon arriving, you looked for a spot next to the pool, and unpacked everything. Benjamin was held to your side, Gabriela was helping Miguel to set up the table and the things they would use for later.

The rest was too into their little world that you couldn't help but notice the stares of other women glancing at Miguel, that had just removed his shirt and slid his glasses back ontop of hid head.

"Let's go swim, Papa!"

"Uh uh, wait." You caked some of the sunscreen on her arms, face and every visible part of her body. She ran to the pool.

"Here, lemme." Miguel took Benjamin, and it was like a sight for sore eyes for the women staring. You frowned, and lathered up little Benji with sunscreen. You then moved to Miguel and smooched him a bit deeper you had intended to. Not that he minded.

A woman scoffed and turned her eyes.

------

Your husband was handsome, and of course that the stares and ogglings at his way we're expected. Beefy, handsome, tall and a dilf father. He was playing with Benjamin and one of the floaties, letting his feet to kick on the water, as Gabriela was trying her hand at diving as she remained close. You just watched as you were sat under the umbrella, donning yourself with sunscreen.

The stares turned more shameless, when he submerged himself and slicked his hair back. The same woman that had scoffed, bit her lip at the sight.

The Audacity.

You had enough. You removed your sunglasses and your shorts, sat before him on the pool, your legs soaking.

Miguel approached and placed a kiss on your knees, holding Benjamin's floaty with one hand.

"God, it's awfully hot today."

"Get in, water is nice." His hand was placed on one of your thighs.

"Benji looks so adorable" You mumbled casually as you removed your shirt, Miguel had to do a double take before actually process what was happening. His mouth gaped softly. Good, you had his full attention. He licked his lips and with one hand pulled you effortlessly in the water, earning a triumphant squeal. from you

He kissed you deeply and smirked.

"¿'Tas celosa?" (You jealous?)

"Shut up."

He laughed and squeezed your butt underneath water, making your cheeks flush deeper, the hot weather disguising your embarrassment.

"No les hagas caso. Im yours anyway." (Ignore them.)

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #💋 anon #Soccer Family ⚽🕷️#gabi o'hara #jealous reader #t writes✨#atsv miguel #spiderman 2099 x you

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untoldstar · 1 year

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rich! yandere x fem reader pt.1

warning: yandere themes, obsessive behavior, stalking, harassment, slight nsfw mentions

You let out an exasperated sigh as another gift lands on your desk from the hands of your coworker, you already know who it’s from, they have been coming non stop, they achieved the purpose of charming you the first few times but when you expressed disinterest in him and they kept on coming that’s when the charm was lost, like clockwork you phone rang, you stared at the name on you screen the conversation that’s about to play out printed like a script in your mind, each time you receive a present from him he makes sure to call you to check in, though your convinced it’s nothing more than his method of boasting for his own egos sake, you sighed and picked up raising the phone to you ear “did you get my gift, lovely?” is his immediate question as soon as you pick up, you stay silent, he very well knows the answer to his own question, it’s quite easy to get a delivery through to workers in your company and even if it wasn’t he’d go to lengths to make it easy for himself “hm why aren’t you answering me?” he asked after your lengthy silence, you rolled your eyes at his second useless question “because you know the answer, what’s the point of calling if you already know i received your gift?” you heard him chuckled and that only made you more annoyed with the situation “ah you’re right..well, love, do you like it? is it to your taste? I have faith in my choices when it comes to you so if trust my gift is to your liking” your desk had a variety of bags, smaller ones with rich perfumes that your sample because they were way too expensive to purchase, bigger bags with pieces of clothing that you didn’t even see in the store but instead liked pictures of models wearing them, even bags with the logo of a makeup brand you like were there, they were all things you’ve always wanted but not this way, not when the knowledge that all this is in fact what you like would paint a smug smile on his face, so you spoke in the most flat tone of of voice you could master “nope, your faith is flawed I actually hate it all” you ignored the judging look from a coworker that overheard you and listened in to his reply “ah really?..seems i’ve made the wrong choice then. No matter, life is filled with material goods I’ll make sure to find exactly what you like, what you’ll admit you like, that is.” you grit your teeth, he was being insufferable you didn’t bother with this anymore and hung up leaning back in your chair sighing, you had convinced yourself he’d stop eventually but each time you were becoming less sure of it.

It was the end of the week, finally you could rest, this week had really worn you out.

You reached for the keys in your pocket while walking up the steps to your house before stopping as you glanced up and saw a bag in front of your door, your shoulders sank ‘he’s sending them to my house now?’ you looked behind you, scanning the street, seeing nothing you walked towards the bag pausing for a moment before taking a hold of it and unlocking the door, you stepped in closing the door behind you and leaving the bag at the door, you were too exhausted you’d deal with that later.

You carried on with your night but every once in a while your thoughts would drift back to him, why did he sound it to your home this time instead of your office? why hasn’t he called like he usually does? it made you nervous, it was unusual, there had to be something different about the present for the entire setting to change, you had enough of the nagging curiosity so here you were standing in front the foot of your bed, staring at the thin black box in front of you, whatever was inside it it was definitely expensive that much isn’t different or new.

You reached for it and removed the top part of the books and your hands stilled as your eyes widened slightly ‘what the fuck?’ inside the box was a neatly placed navy blue lingerie set, you took it out and held it up in front of you to take a better look at it and your cheeks heated it up at the thought of you wearing it and how you’d look, it was a pretty set, the color complemented your skin tone, you loved it but that vanished when you remembered the source and it all clicked, why he didn’t send it to your office, why he didn’t call, he knew your reaction too well, a card was left on the box with elegant handwriting on it

“I hope this meets your taste, if it does we ought to make good use of it the next time we meet.”

#fem reader #yandere fanfiction #yandere #rich yandere #yandere x reader #obsessive yandere #why do i write when i’m half asleep #yandere fanfic

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thylacines-toybox · 9 months

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A strange find from the local recycle shop, an oddly seal-like plane with a dog pilot who can sit inside! Made by Clifford B McGuire, who upon searching seem to make a lot of pilot/aviator animals.

Process of cleaning them up below...

The sealplane caught my eye in the big toy bin first! A friend looked it up and discovered it’s meant to come with a pilot, who I found hiding way at the bottom of the bin. They made me laugh so I had to save them, either for me or for somebody.

The sealplane had a couple of stains on its wings and body, while the pilot had a very stained shirt and torn tie, and was just a bit scruffy looking. Apparently the sealplane is supposed to have a couple of engines under the wings too, oh well! Guess it just glides now.

First I unpicked all of pilot dog's clothes to clean and fix separately! The different materials would need cleaning different ways, especially felt which doesn’t wash well.

To help the hat hold its circular shape better, I turned it inside out and trimmed down the edge of the seam on the inside, then added a circle of foam to help keep it flat.

I decided not to wash this part, I just trimmed off the bobbly and tufty areas on the surface of the felt to neaten it up.

Dog had a hole in his neck so I stitched that up too. Actually I stitched all the way around his neck just for some extra strength.

Wash time! Using some warm water and a little dish soap, I gently scrubbed the sealplane's yellow spots without soaking it entirely, then brushed clear water through to rinse. I avoided scrubbing the felt pieces.

Dog actually wasn't too dirty under the clothes! I just gave him a little bit of cleaning, mainly on the light areas.

Since the shirt looked like normal shirt material, I tried soaking it in normal shirt stain remover! It worked really well! (Also it looked cool in the cup because a rainbow was shining through it while it fizzed!)

All the parts hung on the line to dry. Flying! Dog pilot must have pressed the eject button.

Once dried, I stitched the clothes back on to the pilot. I used the remaining piece of his tie as a template to cut out two new pieces of black felt which tie together.

Sealplane’s printed lettering was lifting up in a few spots, so I used a teeny tiny dot of superglue on the end of a pin to just dab under the letters and pressed them back down with my nail. I trimmed stray tufts off the felt around them too.

It would have been nice to touch up the flaked paint on the plane’s zipper too, but I don’t really have the right stuff for that, so I’m calling them done!

#plane #dog #pilot #airplane #aeroplane #not sure if this fits my ‘not animal’ tag #or my ‘seal’ tag #plushie #toys #white #brown #plushie modification #not really but it fits that tag for being a walkthrough of a process….#these guys really like upsetting my tag system huh

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berriweb · 11 months

Text

╰┈➤ ❝ wrong place, wrong time ❞

: ̗̀➛ ft. miles morales x reader

: ̗̀➛ warnings. brief description of reader’s injuries

: ̗̀➛ part two / part four

: ̗̀➛ a/n. y’all are way more into this than i expected LMAOAOAO and I totally didn’t pick tostones bc that’s what i was eating while i wrote this (im lying) also here’s a daily reminder that I don’t proof read bc im lazy

Blood. Cologne, air freshener, and the familiar scene of a laundry detergent you could never guess from a specific brand you never remember.

As your brain filled with thoughts and you became more aware of your surroundings, you took note of the first smells you picked up as you awakened. Unlike what was expected, you weren’t lying on another cold, hard and rough surface. You were in a bed, a comfy one at that, sinking into the mattress and covered with a blanket so soft you were tempted to act like you hadn’t regained consciousness and fall right back asleep in it’s warmth, snuggling further into the sheets and willing yourself to forget you ever woke up. But you knew better.

Memories of what had recently occurred flashed through your head without warning and you lost all desire to go back to sleep. Maybe you were right, maybe it was just an incredibly outrageous nightmare?

You shot up without thinking and your head almost immediately missed the comfort of the pillow, pain shooting through your temple so sudden that for a moment you feared you’d pass out again. Gritting your teeth, your hands hurriedly reached to rub your forehead in an attempt to dull the headache brought upon you while ignoring the aching in your side. Once it was tolerable again, you opened your eyes and almost felt a sense of relief wash over you.

You were in Miles’ bed, hence the familiar scent you’d initially smelled. His bed was made, surprising considering how messy he normally was. It was a struggle to ever find your way out of his messy sheets, a neat bed was unlike him.

…a neat bed was unlike him. This isn’t Miles’ room.

The art on the walls was unfamiliar, the posters were in different places and some of the clothes scattered around were different colors than you remembered. Not only that, there weren’t any of the pictures you two had taken together pinned to the walls like before. In it’s place were print outs of news articles and pictures of you that you’d never seen before. You’d never posed like that, you’d never been to that restaurant, you’d never worn those clothes.

That wasn’t you and this wasn’t Miles’ room, but if it wasn’t his then who was that sitting in the corner?

You eyed the desk and the dark figure sitting hunched over in the chair beside it, seemingly asleep by the way his head rested on his crossed arms and his back seconds at a time with every inhale. Carefully, both for the sake of being sneaky and not hurting yourself, you removed the blanket and pushed yourself out of bed, being careful as you stood and took another quick look around the room. You made your way to the door, being used to knowing which spots to avoid in order to keep quick, but the loud creaking sound of wood when you stepped on a certain spot of the floor made you freeze.

You looked back, and thankfully the figure went back to sleep after a moment stirring, but you found yourself still stuck in place when you took a closer look at the person.

It was Miles, or at least looked exactly like your boyfriend. From his nose to his jaw and the arch in his eyebrows, the boy was practically identical in every way, but you knew it couldn’t have been him, he wasn’t yours. You guessed that he must’ve been tired, there were eye bags big enough to carry groceries even with his eyes closed, and contrary to how peaceful you always admired Miles’ appearance when he slept, this one had his brows furrowed and a slight frown on his face. Not to mention the obvious inconsistent hairstyle, though you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like the look of the braids on him. Maybe if you ever got back home you’d ask him to try it out.

Home.

You left the room without a second thought, the bathroom thankfully still being where you remembered. Rushing in without a second though, you pushed the door behind you and your hand searched for the light, flipping the switch and slowly turning on the faucet to splash water on your face in a weak attempt to gain some awareness. When you looked up into the mirror you could better understand the constant headaches. Two layers of bandages were wrapped around your head with a small hint of red being seen underneath. You’d likely hit your head when you first hit the ground and hadn’t noticed.

Lifting your shirt up, there were matching bandages wrapped around most of your abdomen, understandable considering the trouble it’d given you earlier. It was more bearable, but you’d probably be uncomfortable for a long while.

You missed Miles.

You hated to admit it, you really did, especially knowing how you left things off the last time you saw him, but you really did. He wasn’t always the best problem solver, but he was damn good at taking your mind off things and you’d always appreciated him for it. You missed his nerdy speeches about comic stories he read, you missed his corny jokes and his goofy expressions, you even missed the hour long rants he’d go on, rambling to you about how much he needed to go to his dream college and study what he loved, and how of course you’d be there with him.

You let your mind wander as your fingers absentmindedly ran over fabric of the bandages, only for your hand to fall still as your train of thought came to a sudden halt. What was it Miles said he always wanted to study?

If there was a visual description of your thought process you were sure you would’ve seen the gears turned and the wires connecting in your head to light the bulb you were ashamed to admit had been unlit for an embarrassingly long time.

“I’m in another dimension!” You declared, admittedly louder than you’d planned for, the nasty ache in your head returning to cause you more distress. Your hands held your head until the throbbing eased up and you could lift your head with more relief. That would certainly make all of the inconsistencies explainable in your mind, as well as the portal. It wasn’t answering all of your questions, but you’d take what you could get for now. Was this really possible? If so, how did you end up here?

“Are the bandages too tight?”

Saying you jumped out of your skin would be an understatement. Your heart skipped a beat as you turned around, bringing a hand up to rest on your chest above where your heart rate spiked, back flush against the counter. Your gaze met a familiar pair of gorgeously brown eyes, the same tired ones you noticed earlier, and your assumption seemed to be right. It didn’t seem that late into the night from the window you’d passed when leaving the room, late afternoon at best, making you wonder what could’ve left him looking so exhausted. The differences were more noticeable with him awake, he didn’t carry the same energetic stance your boyfriend always seemed to have when he was around you. His posture was stiff, even with him leaning lazily against the doorframe, arms crossed and an unreadable expression. He wasn’t exactly a mess, in fact he seemed far more put together than yours based off of his energy alone, but something was missing.

“Did I scare you?” What do you think? “Sorry, you left the door open so I kinda thought…sorry.”

Another difference. Miles had an accent you almost immediately caught onto. It took you slightly by surprise, but you would’ve been lying if you said you didn’t like it.

You let yourself relax as your heart returned to a normal pace, but kept your distance out of nothing but caution. “I- no, it’s fine, I should’ve closed the door. And they aren’t too tight.”

The room fell into an awkward silence and you found yourself shifting from foot to foot, unsure of what to say. It was a bit hard to not be uncomfortable when Miles’ eyes were practically staring holes into you. It wasn’t exactly in a creepy way, more or less as if he were studying you and your every movement, waiting for you to say or do something wrong, like he knew you didn’t belong here. How were you supposed to react? Casually tell him you were from another universe and expect him not to think you were crazy?

“…are you hungry?” Miles broke the silence with a question so casual it made you rethink whether or not the tension had just been there. He pushed himself off of the doorframe and turned around, gesturing for you to follow him without giving you a chance to answer your question. You weren’t going to fight it, considering your stomach was actually begging you for something to eat, so you obliged and followed him.

It was almost as if there were an unspoken rule forbidding you from speaking or asking questions, something in your gut just told you to play along and ask questions later. He pulled up a chair for you at the table and you quietly thanked him for it as he returned from the kitchen with two plates and a comment about how his mom had leftover tostones. “I remember they used to be your favorites.”

Well that sentence wasn’t very assuring. Especially with the narrowed look he gave you when you sheepishly agreed.

The silence that you fell into gave you a moment to yet again try to process everything going on, but on top of wrapping the idea of suddenly ending up in a completely universe (which was only the case if your theory was true, and you had no way of finding out whether or not that was true), you couldn’t bring yourself to not focus on how unsettling the way he acted was.

You could compare the feeling to spending weeks learning a school subject only for the test to cover absolutely nothing that you learned. Being able to read Miles was like second nature to you know, you two went hand in hand. Years of experience practically made you a connoisseur at knowing how your boyfriend was feeling or what he was thinking without you having to say it, and vice versa, but this wasn’t the same. It was as if someone had taken your Miles and replaced his mannerisms with a complete strangers, it might as well have been a cardboard cut out.

He kept his eyes trained on you the entire time without so much as a word, the same uneasiness in his gaze that made you lose most of your appetite and leave you nibbling at your food. You wanted to believe he was content, but his face was twisted in a way that made you think he had something against you. You couldn’t help but still admire his features, it was still your boyfriends face after all, but this wasn’t your boyfriend. The lack of conversation was agonizing but you couldn’t figure out how to start a conversation while in the house of a stranger you’d never met. You blamed him for making the aura so strained.

Clearing your throat, a stupid attempt to get his attention considering it never left, you guilty pushed away the rest of your mostly full plate to signal that you were finished and trying to break the silence, but he beat you to it. “…so-”

“Why are you acting like this?”

You weren’t certain that it was intentional, the malice in his tone, but the manner in which he hissed out his words was enough to momentarily shut you up, leaving you sitting there with a stunned expression to counter the frustration he’d let show itself on his face.

“Acting like…what?”

Suddenly your previous thoughts were proven wrong. This Miles may not have had the same actions you knew as well as with yours, but you’d be a fool not to see the irritation—and that was an understatement—on his face. His jaw was clenched, the hands that’d previously been picking away at cracks in the table now hidden under the table, but you were willing to bet that they were balled up into fists. Without warning you’d been put under a beaming spotlight and unexpectedly became the victim of his interrogation, feeling somewhat guilty for something you weren’t even sure you did towards a person you did not know.

“Are you for real?” Part of you wanted to talk back with the same condescending tone, arguing that he had some nerve getting on your case when you had no part in whatever beef or grudge he held against what you assumed to be your counterpart. “You disappear for over a year, no notice or anything!” The context made you want to believe he was angry at you, but the strain in his voice told you otherwise. Had you hurt him?

“I thought you were dead!” His brows knitted together tight enough to highlight the vein in his forehead, teeth clenched together with such tense posture as he half pushed himself out of his seat to lean forward on the table that you wondered whether or not he was giving himself a headache from the stress. “Do you know how long I searched for you? And then you had the fucking nerve to show up at my house like nothing in your state? What’s your deal?”

It was like you were a child getting scolded for coming home last curfew, but listening to him go on and on with zero context to the situation was irking you. You could at least try to make sense of it, and snapping back might not have been the best way to go about it, as tempting as it was.

“I don’t know.”

He paused, and for a split second you couldn’t tell if he was going to curse you out for playing dumb or keep ranting about your supposed insensitivity, but after a moment of silence he let himself fall back into his seat, hands retreating to his sides as his face fell, thankfully into a more neutral expression. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

“What, you need me to spell it out for you in another language? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you hissed, admittedly more harsh than you’d intended. Miles didn’t seem offended by it, in fact the revelation seemed to do the opposite as you could’ve sworn a defeated look crossed his face. The knot in your stomach was unnerving, you weren’t used to seeing him like this. Whether it was your Miles or not, it was off putting. “You…don’t remember?”

You shook your head yes, which seemed to be the answer he wasn’t hoping for. Miles clicked his tongue and pressed his lips together, and his slumped shoulders were more than enough of an indicator that whatever he was going on about was more serious than you expected.

“You still came back, you knew where to find me, didn’t you? Uncle Aaron told me so himself, he knew you were following him. What do you remember?”

There was disappointment in his tone, and suddenly regardless of your own situation, you felt pity for him. The looming reminder that this wasn’t your boyfriend kept you from wanting to express that pity as you normally would’ve, but even then you couldn’t help but feel bad for doing so. You had no clue what his situation or intentions was, but his story clearly had it’s fair share of negatives and even if you wanted to believe you didn’t really know him, he was starting to remind you of your boyfriend. You were feeling more guilty for unconsciously convince yourself that he wasn’t Miles than anything else, who were you to decide that?

Now it felt like you were stuck between a rock and a hard place. No matter how guilty you felt, you had no idea about what he was going on about. Would going along with it make you a bad person? Should you just admit you weren’t even who he thought you were and pray he doesn’t immediately turn hostile? Who’s to say that’s how he’d even react? You weren’t heartless, just up and leaving felt criminal. No matter the previous harshness, he clearly still had some level of empathy if he was willing to take you home and care for your wounds, not to mention feeding you too.

“I remember you.”

Maybe playing along for a while wouldn’t hurt, at least to figure out what was going on. Can’t hurt to mention the basics. “And…I remember your friends! And your Uncle, obviously.” You glanced around the room for a moment, taking note of a lot of the family pictures on the walls with Miles and his mother. “And your mom, I love her, she’s- was, always so nice to me, her food is to die for. And your dad-”

“My dad is dead.”

The attempt you made to ease the tension and slightly lighten the mode was abruptly cut short with that sentence. You temporarily lost your voice and your chest tightened, eyes going wide. Miles’ eyes bored into your own, voice heavy as he dropped the fact with an unreadable expression, as if he’d done so to see if he could catch you off guard with that fact, and it worked. “I…” Saying that would explain a lot seemed like an insult in and of itself, yet it’s what came to mind, surprising at it was. You didn’t think the differences in this world could be so major, but you clearly didn’t know to what extent another universe could go to. “I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t remember that either, did you?” Miles chuckled dryly, but you didn’t see any humor in what he said. He took your silence as an answer and you took note of his now avoidance in meeting your eyes, instead turning away to look at one of the hung photos on the way.

“What about that day? Do you remember that the last time I saw you was the day he died?”

His voice was low and monotoned, and you hated how you couldn’t tell what he was thinking. You could guess, you could assume how he felt and try to predict what he’d say next, but there was no way of knowing for sure. The unpredictability of his actions was maddening. As you watched him you couldn’t help but constantly compare.

A scowl doesn’t look good on him. Smiles always suited him better. You hated to be the reason he wasn’t showing it off.

“Do you remember that you were the reason he died?”

You hated it more than you thought.

╰┈➤ ❝ tag-list ❞

— @brokeb1mbo, @ravieaesthetic , @sp1derm4nluver, @isa-444, @wassuppartypeople, @namtaeh, @whoisgami, @ponyboys-sunsets, @go-to-sleep-salem, @hana-1235, @j-natsuka, @lavzxx, @itzmeme, @iimng, @nycweb-slinger, @empress-pug-pug, @planetliaa, @mividaasi, @dolliied, @ukranianacearo, @solecitoszn, @izukusnovia, @abbyrxx12-blog, @conventionally-unconventional, @mileslovelygf, @ditto737, @iinlovewithfictionalppl, @superiorbyfar, @bingewatcheraf, @the-smut-plug, @whotfismirah, @gyuville, @blackspideysstuff, @1uv4jiya

#across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #atsv fanfiction #atsv #atsv x reader #spider man #miles morales #miles g morales #miles g #miles morales prowler #prowler miles #earth 42 #earth 42 miles morales #miles 42 #e42 miles morales #earth 42 miles #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x reader

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hennyjwrites · 10 months

Note

If you feel like it, can you actually make a fan fic where the chef reader lets him?

🌹❤️🥰💋

The smell of a good meal roamed through Rio's house, making his stomach growl. He looked over from his living room to see Y/N focused as she cooked. He had just come back from a trip and wanted a home cooked meal from his favorite person. The only thing that could have made the meal better was if she was naked while cooking.

Rio licked his lips, watching as she moved gracefully through the kitchen. She had R&B music playing, to set her vibe as she worked. She could feel Rio’s eyes on her. She loved knowing he had an eye for her. There was a lot of built up lust in the air. It was as potent as the food being cooked.

Rio couldn’t take it anymore. The football game was forgotten as he stood, making his way to his massive kitchen. Y/N watched from the corner of her eyes as he walked from around his island to her. She bit her lip as he stood behind her. He was close. So close she could smell his cologne.

He was tired of playing these games with her. He knew she wanted him, just like he wanted her. He pressed his body against hers even more. “Smells good, ma.” He whispered, placing his hands on her hips. He rubbed circles on her hips.

“Thank you.” She mumbled, letting him stay close to her. She could feel his print on her ass. He was big. “It’ll be ready soon.” She moved from him slightly, pretending she needed something from the counter. She couldn’t sleep with him. He's her boss, and she knows that adding relations to a situation like this could cost her a very good paying client.

Rio watched as she randomly searched his cupboard. He turned the stove off, before walking to the counter she was at that she was at. Y/N was trying to calm her nerves but she could feel the wetness gathering in her lace panties. She gasped as Rio pushed against her again. This time she could feel all of him.

“When are we gonna stop playing, Y/n?” He whispered, his accent making his voice more sexy. When she didn't make any move to tell him she's uncomfortable, Rio snuck his hand around the front of her body, and gripped her jaw, angling her neck for her to the side. He left open mouth kisses on the now open part of her neck. He kissed down to her shoulder, not lingering on one place too long. He's been wanting her and wasn’t going to waste any time.

Rio spun her around and quickly lifted her onto the counter. Y/n gasped, but it was immediately quieted as Rio placed his lips on hers. She whimpered against his lips as she wrapped her arms around his neck. His tongue invaded her mouth as he pulled her closer. He was finally letting his feelings onto her.

Rio pulled away from her, sucking down her neck again, more roughly than last time. Y/n moaned and closed her eyes. “Rio. We shouldn't be doing this.” She panted, letting her pull her shirt off. She made no effort to stop anything he was doing. “Y-you're my boss.” He reaches behind her to unhook her bra. He threw it across the room. “A-and i really l-like my j-ahh.” She moaned out loud as his mouth closed around her right nipple. Rio sucked on her nipple slightly before trailing kisses to her left one, doing the same motion.

She panted, letting her head fall back. At this point it was fuck the job for the both of them. Rio pulled away looking at her. “You wanna stop.” He asked her, making sure she was just as comfortable as he was. His fingers played with the waistband of her sweats. “N-no.” She spoke quietly, bringing her hands to trail against his clothed chest. Rio pulled his shirt off, before quickly putting his lips back on hers. He lifted her from the counter and laid her on the floor. He pulled away making sure she was ok with where they were laying. When she did object his mouth trailed her body again, while his fingers worked her pants down her legs. He pulled them off with her panties.

He didn't even have the time to appreciate her lace as he pushed her legs apart. He took a second to stand to remove his pants. “Imma take my time with you, next round mama.” He told her, letting her know already that they were going to go all night long. His dick was already pulsing for her, making her mouth water as precum dripped from the tip. Rio chuckled as he watched her lick her lips. “Next round ma, next round.”

He positioned himself back in between her legs. Rio slapped his tip across her clit, before pushing it downwards and inside of her. “F-fuck.” She moaned out, feeling him push every inch inside of her. He was thick. Thick enough for her to feel the stretch in her walls.

Rio threw his head back feeling her grip his dick in a way nobody had before. The way she gripped him was hypnotizing. He didn’t waste any time before he started to thrust into her. He smiled down at her, as she laid her head back on the tile floor, moaning. He bit his lip as he watched her eyes roll into the back of her head. They were both caught in the feeling of pleasure from one another.

“Right there, keep going baby.” She moaned out, gripping her breast, as her head lulled to the side. Rio kissed her neck as a quick apology for what he was about to do. He gripped her hips and started to pound into her. She gasped loudly as he hit her g spot harder. The pleasure from the quick and rough hit shook her spine. The cream that gathered around his dick told Rio she was about to orgasm. Not cum, she was going to have a mind blowing orgasm. Her legs tried to shut but rio pried them open. “Let me see you baby.” He rubbed her clit, watching her shake.

She continued to moan but they became more gaspier. Her orgasm flooded over her. Her mind went blank with pleasure, her voice gone, as she orgasmed around Rio. Watching and feeling her orgasm pushed him into his. He tried to watch her but his orgasm was just as powerful as hers. He worked both of them through it as much as could. Continuing to thrust inside her as much as he could, he leaned across her body tucking his face into her neck.

Y/n orgasm subsided but she still felt all the aftershocks. Rio did too. They both laid on the floor and panted. Rio was the first to pull away. He kissed her again but this time it was more powerful. They both could feel the want and need they had for another.

Rio pulled away first, looking her in her eyes. “Youre fired.” He whispered, watching her face drop in shock.

“H-huh?”

“Youre fired, Y/N.” He kissed her cheek. “I don't need my woman working under me.”

Y/N slapped his chest, letting out a sigh of both relief and happiness. “You play to fucking much.” She whined as she watched him laugh. “Get off me.” She pushed him slightly.

Rio looked down at her and smirked, thrusting back softly, watching her jaw drop again. Rio pulled away from her, standing before pulling her up as well. “Remember what i said earlier ma, it's time for me to take care of you.” Rio picked her up, walking her to the bedroom. “Let me take care of you baby.”

#black reader #rio x reader #rio x black!reader #rioasks #rio good girls

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hellsburners · 10 months

Text

soft release

summary: steven got a little rough with this one pairing: steven grant x male reader word count: 1.5k warnings: 18+ warning, s3x, top!steven, rough stuff, nods to comic steven, maybe ooc idk a/n: based on this request.

masterlist | more moon knight

His silence was deafening, all you could hear was the sound of the car speeding through the streets of London. His hands gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turned white. Your hands were cold and clammy.

You were on the way home from a gala with your partner, famous museum curator, Steven Grant of the National Art Gallery. The gala featured new historical findings from a site in Egypt funded by the Grant Foundation.

There were at least fifty people in the museum. Everyone was clad in pristine clothing, gowns, and expensive suits drinking equally expensive champagne. You came as Steven’s partner, a surprise to a lot of his colleagues. He wore a dark pinstripe tuxedo with the brightest white tie, his shoes were polished so bright it shone under the moonlight.

He made you wear a similarly luxurious midnight blue tuxedo that complemented his. He introduced you to the other curators in Europe. You tried not to get bored but it definitely was. Steven said he hated it himself. You anxiously downed a few glasses of champagne, which you eventually regretted.

He was still silent when you arrived at the manor, removing his coat and his tie. He looked at you with his sunken eyes, a glare you would only see from Marc but you knew it was still Steven. He licked his lips and let out a sigh.

“If this is about earlier—” you tried to say, but Steven pulled you into your shared bedroom, your back against the hardwood door.

“Flirting with my co-workers, ‘Do you think that was nice of you, love?” he said, his face so close to yours you could feel his warm breath on your lips. His hand is above your shoulder.

You shook your head, speechless. “Don’t think so,” he pulled back and went onto the bed removing his silver cufflinks. “Come here,” he gestured to the bed, his voice deep and serious, like a general giving away orders.

“I’m so sorry—” you uttered. He let out a few tsks before pulling his belt off. On the usual, it would be you who would be the more aggressive when it comes to stuff like this. You went to sit on the edge of your white king-sized bed, Steven looking down on you with shadows in his eyes.

He caressed your cheek with his thumb, it was so warm against your skin. His thumb went to your lips as he bent down to kiss you. You let out a soft moan as his lips left yours. He smirked. “Can we play?” he asked. You nodded before he placed his tie around your eyes, it was soft against your nose bridge and your temples.

Steven started to undress you, your shirt, your pants, your underwear. Before he laid you down he took the tie around your neck and wrapped it around your wrists and secured it with a knot. He gently placed you against the wide bedspread, your arms above your head.

“I hated the way he looked at you, the way he touched your hand as he talked to you,” he whispered in your ear leaving wet kisses around your neck. You could feel the stubble prick your skin. “Is it fair, my love? To let me see all that?” he said. You shook your head before he spun you around so your face faced the sheets, your ass cold against the air.

He smacked your rear with a loud clap, like a thunderstrike. A red print is left on your skin. He massaged it with a grip that grew tighter and tighter. You let out a cry from impact, tears forming in your eyes. Steven knew how much this might have shocked you, how it wasn’t really like him. But he saw the way that man looked at you, filled with so much lust and want, he wanted to hurt him. “Shit, I’m so sorry love was that too much?” he shakingly said.

“No, it—it’s good I liked it,” you witnessed a new side to him, your sweet and soft-spoken boyfriend was now all rough with you. You felt your center turn and harden. Steven’s own hardness grew, the visual of you prone on the bed bound and blindfolded, he cursed. It was Marc’s idea. He heard him whisper it in the car. Do it, teach ‘em a lesson.

“You’re so naughty, what will I do without you, love?” he said as he undressed his trousers. He bent down to kiss your nape, you could feel his tip rub against your back, leaving a wet trail. He took some lube and prepared your hole, his big digits inserted in you opening you up. He left kisses against your ass, leaving a few bites. You wince from the slight pain.

You hear a foil wrapper being opened and an elastic being stretched. “Can I be rough with you?” he said, you let out a whiny yes. He gently pressed into you, his hardness entering you. The two of you let out a loud groan, his hands gripping your waist.

He proceeded to thrust into you with fervor, he let out loud needy noises. You could feel his fingers press into your hip bones, his skin slapping into yours through each thrust. You could feel the hard tip ram into your most sensitive spots. You cried out curses and his name. The bed started to creek and rock back and forth, your fingers dug into the soft sheets.

The sheer amount of force he was letting out was enough to push you to the edge, you could feel your cock leak so much pleasure. Stop, he’s close, a voice whispered to Steven. He pulled out, you let out a sob from the loss of sensation.

“Steven—babe,” you were a whimpering mess.

“Not yet pretty, ‘need to show you how mad I am right now,” he sulked before turning you over and placing hips between your legs. He started to press wet kisses around your torso, his tongue playing with one of your nipples. The lack of vision made your whole body feel much more sensitive.

Your bound hands tried to touch his hair as he kissed you down to your leaking cock, he swiftly took your wrist and pinned them back above your head. He went to kiss around your neck, his hand going to your cock, he stroked it so fast, and with the precum, it was so slippering you were sure you’d finally cum. He stopped when your legs began to close, you let out another cry.

“You’re leaking so much, love. No one can make you like this but us.”

“I know—”

“Just the three of us for you. Is that not enough?”

“You’re m—more than enough.”

“So it won’t happen again?” he sounded like he was begging, pleading for you to only care for him.

“Yes—”

The moment you gave out your answer he pressed his cock again to your hole and began to fuck you again. He was harder, it was stiff around your rear, but pleasurable sliding across your muscles. His hip bones clashed against your skin, wet sounds filled the room. Your eyes rolled back from the sensation, your legs trembling.

The constant rubbing loosened the tie from your eyes, you saw Steven covered in sweat, glistening under the moonlight. His curly hair was all tousled and the veins in his hands were visible as it held your waist. He looked at you and noticed that you could finally see him. He placed a wanton kiss on your lips, it was lousy at best but filled with so much want. You placed your hands around his head and pulled him close.

He untied you and your hands began to snake across his wide back. The feeling of his cock inside you was starting to make your head feel light, your eyes half-lidded and your toes curled. You were a moaning mess under him.

He whispered that he was close. His thrusts became erratic but still hard. You asked if you could ride him and he obliged. You began to ride him as he sat on the edge of the bed. Your hips moved up and down, his hands clenched on your ass. The two of you shared one last kiss as he came inside you, your own cum shooting on your torsos. You felt the room darken as your eyes closed.

You woke up to the room still dark, the moon shone on the window. You felt a cold wet towel on your rear. It was Steven, cleaning you up as he pressed soft kisses on the redness around your waist.

“You’re awake,” he said, placing the wet towel on the basin near the bed stand. “‘Sorry if it was too much.”

“Marc got you into this?” you giggled. He nodded like a scolded puppy. You stroke his wet hair before you place a light kiss on his lips. “Cuddle me into bed then, my body is sore,” you said as he took out your softest blankets and covered your naked bodies. He peppered you with kisses before you went back into slumber.

interactions are greatly appreciated btw if u liked this fic and want more send me a prompt and i'd gladly make something from it :>

#moon knight x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight x male reader #steven grant x male reader #marc spector x male reader #jake lockley x male reader #moon knight smut #steven grant smut #marc spector smut #jake lockley smut

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harlowcomehome · 4 months

Text

Chores and soap bubbles:

A Hazel and Jade fic.

You gathered up the laundry for what felt like the millionth time this week, sighing as you threw Jack's green new balance sweat pants into the hamper that you already struggled to carry.

“Are you serious? ” You mumbled to yourself realizing he was putting clothes in the hamper that hadn’t worn in a while, pulling them out one by one to look over them.

“Jackman? Why is this in here?” You walked into the living room, holding up a Gucci shirt by the collar that you’d never seen him wear, not even once.

He wasn’t paying attention to you, he had been distracted for the last month or so. You couldn’t blame him, knowing he was preparing for the next album but all of your household duties were starting to weigh on you.

You stood in front of him now, snapping your fingers in front of his face to get his attention.

“What the-“ he removed his AirPods and looked at you blankly. He was trying to come up with lyrics and was engulfed in doing that.

“Why am I washing this?” You held the shirt in front of him. Your jaw flexed at the frustrations your face wore.

“It was wrinkled” he shrugged before putting his AirPod back into his ear, he couldn’t be bothered with your frustrations at the moment.

Jack had offered several times over the years for the two of you to get a maid or housekeeper of some sort but you liked being in control of those things, which made you feel awful for complaining, so you rarely did.

You opened the lid to your washer and put as many articles of clothing inside that fit. You were wondering how your husband and the girls went through so many clothes, knowing you had spent most of your days this week inside of the house.

Hazel and Jade were playing in the backyard when it started to heavily rain. The two of them had been playing soccer in the backyard for over an hour.

Jack hadn’t noticed them coming inside or noticed that they left mud all over the living room.

You were at your wits end, as you scanned the living room floor that was now covered in mud. You had just moped a few hours earlier, the house still filled with the scent of cleaner.

Hazel noticed the shoe prints, a gasp escaping her. She knew how long it took you to clean.

“I’m so sorry Mommy” she mumbled, her voice small as she stood in the hallway with Jade closely behind her.

“We can help clean it up!” Jade exclaimed, Jack finally realized what was going on once he looked up and around the living room.

“No, girls that’s fine. Mommy will handle it” Jack nonchalantly replied.

You wouldn’t deny that you would’ve said that same sentence yourself, but the fact that he didn’t offer to help was only adding to your feeling of being overwhelmed.

“Don’t worry about it girls. Just get cleaned up. Leave your shoes right there” You pointed off to the side and smiled at them softly to let them know you weren’t upset with them.

Hazel could immediately feel the tension in the room, helping her little sister take her shoes off and leaving them to the side of the room before quickly skipping out of the room.

You pulled the AirPod out of his ear aggressively, as soon as the girls were out of earshot startling him as he jumped a little.

“Did you suddenly come down with a serious allergy to mops that I don’t know about?” You stood before him with your arms crossed against your chest.

“What do you mean?” He couldn’t help but laugh, unsure if you were being serious with him or not.

“Why do you just assume that I’m going to clean that mess? You were supposed to be watching them through the window like you said you would.”

“I’m a little busy here” he scoffed knowing this was going to be an argument.

“You’re always too busy for everything, especially me” Your lips trembled.

“That's not true Y/N.” He took a sharp breath in, the sentence you said stinging and making him feel hurt now too.

You didn’t have the energy to fight, shuffling to the bedroom in your worn-out slippers and slamming the door shut.

Hours had gone by before you heard the bedroom door creak open, it was the sound of your daughters and not your husband so you welcomed them with open arms.

“Mommy! Are you sick?” Jade giggled, realizing you were awake as the two of them crawled into bed with you.

“No baby, I’m just tired” You opened your arm for the both of them to snuggle closer to you.

“Daddy made a yummy dinner if you’re hungry” Hazel knew that if you weren’t sick you were likely upset as you rarely had any downtime to lay in bed otherwise.

“Oh yeah? What did he make?” You tickled her tummy making her giggle as Jack walked in with a plate of food for you.

“I thought I’d let you get a nap in” he smiled, handing you the plate of food as he sat on the bed beside you and the girls.

“Hey girls, do you want to get dessert ready?” Jack had to think of a way to get them out of the room for a moment as they both excitedly hopped off the bed and into the kitchen together.

“I’m sorry for earlier. I was being an ass, and I wasn’t thinking. I cleaned up the living room and switched out the laundry.”

“I just get tired of having to do it all, and I know that I chose that but-“

“No. Don’t do that. I was wrong. I need to help out more” he leaned in, moving your hair from your face as he kissed your forehead.

“I’m sorry for saying what I said too. I didn’t mean it. ” You took his hands into yours, kissing the top of them before he leaned in to kiss you on the lips.

“I guess I forgive you” he playfully replied in a sing-songy tone making you giggle.

“Let’s go out there. The littles are taking too long” You giggled at the nickname and Jack held your plate as you got out of bed.

••••

The following days were better, Jack helped when he was available but with an out-of-state concert scheduled, you knew you had to carry the load.

The first day without Jack, you woke up to a noisy house. The girls were normally still in bed, making you suspicious of how long you had slept in. You checked the time realizing it was only eight thirty, still late for you as you hurried to the kitchen.

Hazel and Jade had woken up before you and took the initiative to help with the chores that their dad couldn’t do while he was away.

It wasn’t until you saw the massive amount of bubbles and water all over the kitchen floor that you figured out what went wrong.

Jade was currently making soap angels on the tile floor and Hazel was covered in bubbles as she struggled to take the fifth bucket of soapy water into the backyard.

“Ahhh!” She wasn’t expecting to see you, falling backwards and spilling the bucket all over herself and the floor.

“Hazey, are you okay?” Jade scooted on the floor over to her, checking for scrapes and cuts.

“My ego is bruised but I’m okay” Hazel mumbled. (Dramatic like her dad.)

“Eggos are waffles. Silly Hazey!” Jade giggled.

You stifled a laugh, taking your slippers off and rolling up your pajama pants as you carefully slid over to your daughters.

“Sit with us!” Jade exclaimed with soapy hands.

You happily obliged before you laid down beside Hazel and Jade on the floor, laughing hysterically as the two of them burst into laughter too.

There were tears in your eyes when you finally gained composure of yourself.

“I was trying to help because daddy is gone” Hazel scooted closer to you, worried you were still going to be upset with her.

“You used dish soap?”

“Yupp” she giggled, “are you mad at us?”

“Not at all, but next time let me worry about things okay? Your only job is to be a kid” You took her chin into your hand giving her face a gentle shake.

“Now you sound like daddy” Hazel giggled and rolled her eyes having heard that phrase from her dad numerous times.

#Jack Harlow #Jack Harlow fanfic #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagines #jack harlow blurb

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hxltic · 1 year

Text

I’M SORRY. MASTUKAWA ISSEI

• 200 FOLLOWERS!! 😻😻😻

• Genre: smut

• Warnings: female reader, college, slight angst at first, overstimulation, rough counter sex, choking, hair pulling, degradation, daddy kink, cunnilingus, pretty long but please don’t let it scare you off lol

-I just love comfort roommate Mattsun

You slept horribly. You thank the universe your classes had mercy. Though you still called into work, unfortunately, and even more to your demise— there was a huge sale that made folding restock clothes a pain.

Slumping through the door, getting your shower in, and throwing on the first shirt you found from the laundry room was very efficient until you got into bed.

You lay there.

Comfortably uncomfortable.

You were hot, but taking the covers off wasn’t an option. You felt every fiber or hair against your body. Your feet were cold. A growling noise erupted from your stomach.

Angrily, the covers are thrown off, where you stomp your way to the kitchen while dismissing the new breeze of air brushing your skin. No jacket, in shorts, waltzing around the apartment scavenging for food. You wish the feeling of the air conditioning didn’t bother you as much as the sound did, because it printed an obvious sign of irritation on your face.

Then the fire alarm beeped.

Taking a deep breath, you begrudgingly conclude yourself unsuccessful in finding something to nibble on. When you turn around, the corner of the kitchen table seemed to stick out more than usual.

Lo and behold it hit the corner of your already cold foot. You drop to your elbows on the counter in annoyance where hold your head, tugging probably unhealthily at your eyes from stress, trying your best not to fall to the ground and cry.

You immediately removed even the thought of tears when the door sounded.

“Honey I’m home.” Mattsun closes the door behind him.

He just got back from afternoon classes with only a handful of groceries. Your roommate started the “I’m home” thing as a joke, yet it carried farther than that as time went on. You correct yourself and try to help with the groceries at least a little bit, picking up what you could find in the bags and placing them in their correct spot.

Mattsun could obviously tell something was off the second he walked in. He watched you stutter and quickly regather yourself even though it looked as if you were on the verge of tears. He would’ve asked why by now, if he didn’t know that you probably didn’t know yourself. He was right. You didn’t.

Hard days never got to you, but as the homework piled up with your micromanaging boss, it went straight to the mini notepad in your brain listing all you had to do. It was fine until you had to flip to the next page, then the ink started getting all runny. You aren’t sure what caused it; but it happened. You held the milk mindlessly in your hand.

Mattsun scooted behind you towards the refrigerator. You were in the area between the island and the main counter, causing his front to press up against you innocently, an angered grunt dropping from your lips.

“Could you not go around?” You turn to him swiftly, your palm facing upwards to emphasize your feelings.

“Didn’t really think it mattered. You calling me fat?” He opened the refrigerator door. Usually you’d laugh, but it only turned your brows farther inwards.

“Yeah, it does. Go the other fucking way.” You spat. With the roll of your eyes, you slid the milk into the already opened fridge. You stepped back so that Matsukawa could close it, hand already on the handle—but when nothing happened, you turned around to see the tall male staring at you in disbelief. He literally just got home.

“…What?”

“The hell is up with you?” He asks regularly.

“Nothing,” you shrug and brush it off, “it was just unnecessary.”

“Well it’s clearly something,” he retaliates, “I’ve been practically crucified the ten seconds I’ve been here.” He closes the door and laughs humorlessly to himself.

“Whatever. It’s nothing.”

He starts, “Really? The-“

“God-it’s nothing! It’s nothing.”

The aggressive hand motions come back, then you finally take about four different things from the second-to-last bag and put them up hastily, even in your tired state.

He observes you from the counter with every step you take and every heavy breath you let in. Like you’re fighting an entire war with yourself.

It finally clicked in his mind: he said the wrong things in the wrong moment, and it wasn’t what you needed right now. He just wished he would’ve noticed sooner.

“Hey, my bad—I’m sorry. Should’ve went around.”

His voice wasn’t careless now, but soft. You heard him but just moved on to the last bag. Before you can pull something out, he takes it and tells you that you can go lay down. Better yet, that he’d handle everything else.

“It’s fine, I can do it.” You reach again and he pulls it away. “Give it.” The quicker you are, quicker he is.

You sigh and pull back. You wanted to slap the shit out of him but he wouldn’t budge.

“Do you always have to be like this?”

He cocks his head to the side. He was curious. It could tell how you actually feel about him, the kind of things you don’t tell people to their face.

“Like what?”

“Aggravatingly annoying,” you blatantly answered.

His expression changed for a second. He refuses to get louder, only talking in a low volume, casual tone.

“That I am.”

“Why can’t you just come in and go to your room to study or something?”

“I will next time.”

“Why do you always have to be by me?”

Hm…

Accepting it and having it your way he felt was the best thing to do. He’s been called annoying before, even irritating due to his constant teasing. But hearing it from you—really the main one he talks to that isn’t Makki— hurt a bit. You saw his eyes widen for a slight half a second more before reverting to his usual apathetic face.

He knew you didn’t mean it. He knew you were overstimulated. Giving in to you and whatever you said was what you needed, not someone to fight you on things. Yeah it fucking hurt; however, you were speaking out of temporary emotion rather than logic or feelings, so if not stressing you out in this way was what he’d have to do, he’d do it.

The truth was: you really couldn’t stand being by him. Hearing him walk in while you read in your bed, then casually throw his things to the wall and flop down at your feet. Or when you would come in later and he’d be sat criss cross on the couch, a spot waiting for you right next to him. You couldn’t decipher if these were regular friendly activities or not and it swam through your mind all throughout the day.

Was it just his personality? Did it mean anything to him? Were you being dramatic? All the hugs, the studying, the dinner nights. Were those dates? Did they have the same effect on him that they had on you? Were they even on purpose?

The silence was deafening and palpable, the gaze he held intimidatingly normal. Didn’t you just yell at him? How is he so calm? You had come back to your senses, staring up at his non-changing face, ready to say something.

“I-“

“Do I need any reason more than I want to be?” He utters first delicately.

There wasn’t a hint of negative energy. It made you sad, just how much he’d do for you. You actually almost wish he would’ve gotten mad.

He’s never once yelled at you, called you out for dumb things like breaking a glass bowl, or not being taught some things around the house. You just let out an entire day’s worth of anger onto him and said something that was nowhere close to what you feel. You even used him as a placeholder for what you wish you could say to your boss. He is always so, so good to you.

He watches as your eyes suddenly get tighter and your eyebrows inch upwards. You’ve done nothing but look at him, yet the mere thought of what you said and what he’s actually done forces you to drop your head slowly and take a few steps forward into his chest. Droplets fall silently to the tiled floor.

His arms softly found their way around you.

“I’m sorry.” You mumble.

“You’re okay.”

He hugs you back, progressively getting softer with every passing minute. Not “It’s okay,” “You’re okay.” Sometime later, you pull back with a deep breath, and you send a tight lip smile to him. Then while he puts away the discarded item (that was previously fought over), you hop up on the island counter.

“Okay. I’m better now.”

“Good.” He closes the fridge. Your legs sway back and forth. You’ll try to explain what happened, even if you know it won’t justify the outbursts directed at him.

“Hey I didn’t mean it.”

“I kno-“

“No, no, wait.” You interrupt.

Dark eyebrows raise and his arms cross as he leans back against the counter in front of you to listen. He nods, telling you to go on.

“I’m so stressed. I just had a really, really bad day and put you at the end of it. I do really enjoy your company—I promise—It’s just…it’s just I don’t really-”

You think for a moment and sigh before your head drops into your palms again. It was because your mind was racing to find the words. Do you tell him? Would it count as a confession?

“I don’t even know anymore. Do you ever…um…”

“Take your time.” He sits patiently.

Damn, did you have to trip over your own words now?

“…What do the dates that you plan usually look like?”

He seemed lost in thought for a second, prior to returning towards the sight of you nervously twiddling your fingers. He noticed the emphasis on the word ‘plan,’ as if you were trying to differentiate between real dates from him and whatever the hangouts you two had were. Saving you the trouble, he’d just tell you.

“I like you.”

…huh?

The sudden confession makes your eyes almost pop out of your head. That was not the answer you were expecting, but not the answer you didn’t want.

“What?” You whisper. You did hear that correctly, right?

He goes on to elaborate with a sigh and a shrug.

“Listen, I’ve been through a million different of these confessions and I don’t want that delay with you. I like you a lot, period.”

It was a while back ago when Mattsun decided he’d focus on you alone. He cleared his phone, and (which you noticed) somewhat cleared his defiled reputation of past debauchery. Many older women have came up to him asking if he actually would pursue during his libertine phase, to which he’d respond no, so he has experienced almost every subtle confession ever made. It was like déja vu.

Wide-eyed you sit. That was a lot easier than you expected; you were worrying all for nothing. The bearing weight that had you in a hold was finally lifted.

“So all of those were-“

“Yes. I haven’t done that with anyone else and I prefer to keep it that way.”

Your heart probably jumps in your chest and your eyes light up. A wide smile inches its way onto your face, and it almost dies down when you remember what you did, but he brings it back with a light, mature smile of his own. After all this time he actually was crushing on you like you were him. You never, ever could deny the way you were eager to see him once he would return from his classes and crash the night with you.

Speaking of crash, a sudden returning wave of exhaustion brushes your body. You ignore it though. There are better things.

“Well, that’s somehow where I was going; I like you a lot too. But if I actually asked you would you say yes? I know how-”

“That depends. Does it come with a ring?”

You stop and your dimples start to show as a smile crawls onto your face, again, “Um…no?“

“Then I object.”

He uncrosses his arms and walks unhurriedly between your legs. He was so content, large hands brushing up your thigh from the knee.

“Yes, I would,” he admits delightedly whilst gingerly coming closer in the face, “the ring comes later though.” He’d whisper a breath away from your lips. You’d wondered how you could be so lucky, the confession not even falling from your sheepish mouth, and still end up with the same outcome. When his eyes go from yours to the plump of your mouth; So, so ready to feel him on you, your eyes close and anticipate him.

Nothing happens. Once your eyes open and he stands there mockingly with the trademark grin (still only hovering an inch away from your nose), if you didn’t know any better you would’ve shoved him away and hopped off the counter to your room for playing with your feelings. But Mattsun was just being Mattsun. First he laughs genuinely at how gullible you are. Then, his trail of sight goes back to your lips unashamedly once more with a dimple-showcasing smirk. He slowly pushes a falling strand of hair away, and slightly turns his head to melt into you with a hand on your cheek sweetly.

You could feel the free smile that was on his lips as he kissed you. It was cute. The kind of things you see in movies at little coffee shops riding along the street. It was unlike him, an unfamiliar feeling this was—like sunlight rather than a rainy or cloudy day. It sounds stupid, but Matsukawa is always slow moving and effective. Watching tv with your legs kicked up or tucked in a blanket as the pitter-patter of the rain decided the kismet of your day. The lambent lighting of the morning making it significantly darker than it usually is with the blinds open.

He caught you before you were too far gone by groaning happily. Throughout it, the entirety of your mind was buzzed by the way your lips gracefully slow danced against his on the counter of your shared apartment. It felt so good seeing him just utterly happy, especially with you. Warm and steady like molasses in January. His fingers eventually connected in the small of your back. You were still tired so his energy was just as lazy as your own; like when your hands floated around his neck and feathered through his hair.

He did it as if it had been years since he was kissed. Yearning for absolutely any ounce of touch from someone. He was accidentally pushing into you, needing to be closer, your arch slowly getting deeper.

The second he pulled away for necessary air, he caught the crevices of your thighs and pulled you with him. Now that the hard part was done he’d give you the full experience.

“What are you doing?”

“Relieving stress.”

He pushes a leg up and over his own shoulder. His hands are placed directly atop your abdomen to apply light pressure as he kisses away the nerves from the main fat of your body gently. Remember all that cute stuff? Yeah, it just diminished the second he decided to eat you out on the marble counter.

You’re not very sure how it led to something like this, something like him pulling your shorts and panties off together. Once there, his mouth felt great against your clit, mainly when he’d stop and suck right between. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t dreamt of this from someone before because the form of the pink muscle inside you is unmistakable. So unmistakable even, that the feeling of the slurp that makes you squirm seemingly flows through your veins to your head like blood.

When Mattsun eats you out, he does it with precision. He knows where he wants to go and how he’ll get there. Compared to others he wasn’t as messy, but maybe that comes from the fact he’d prefer his fingers working inside of you. He’d love to watch your face contort on nothing but his hand because he knows it’s a favorited body part of his. He knows you’d love it. But, he will cup his mouth over you and give the same effect nonetheless.

And you loved that about him. He was careless, not nonchalant.

He was clingy, but independent.

He had morals, just not enough to get boring like when he jumped in the ball case in the store.

He was extremely opinionated, (especially when you asked him small questions like if he liked a shirt) but he also doesn’t care enough to convince you out of something you liked.

He’s hot, but also couldn’t care less about his appearance at times.

He was a walking juxtaposition.

And usually, when you’re alone, the relaxation of your mind helps you get off faster. This was the case, and going over his traits and features was clearly working well because now only your upper back was on the counter and anything below that point was lifted with his large hands. Both legs were in his possession. Your breaths were heavy and when your waist moves on him, his shoulders follow his head. Your own head moves to each side, but he doesn’t seem to care, this was incidental when he was holding your hips close to him so your wetness spread right under his nose. He was feeding off you since there was nowhere to run.

He’d tell you to sit still a bit but he likes the challenge. He likes watching your waist go back and forth as your pussy basically cries his name, and he would print his initials in hickeys on you if that’s what it called for. Others call it sadistic, he calls it motivation.

He could literally take both hands off of you and still be upright—the only reason he didn’t was because you’d probably make yourself fall. Though he did get close, a hand coming right up through your shirt to massage your breast. You unconsciously crossed your legs behind his neck in reaction. Damn, he was good.

He groans through you, and you wish you could watch but holding yourself together was a ground-breaking job. He hit each spot perfectly with complete control of his tongue and your shoulders were starting to hurt from bearing your own body weight.

His height made this fairly difficult but nothing he couldn’t handle—having to crouch in front of a pretty girl was the last of his worries. With your thighs covering his ears and temple, he sucked away. He was honestly glad he did this now rather than later, knowing you, you probably would’ve refused clamping on his head so you wouldn’t crush him or something like that. Mattsun believed his breath regulation was pretty okay considering he almost even got into swimming, but if by slim chance he did die he believed suffocating like this was preferred.

His tongue was literally inside of you. The only thing preventing your brain from fuzzing and your head from throwing back was there would be nothing left on the counter to hold your weight.

Once your heavy breathing developed to jagged and your heavyset eyes started to close, he set you back down gracefully. He heard your pleas but held out for as long as he could. Many “Mattsun please’s“ and “Mattsun I’s” later, he would finally relieve you; He knew his girl could do it.

He spent the last portion of your orgasm fulfilling his own desires and working you from the inside. He moved positions to rest on his left elbow and lean over your face, staring into your eyes, brows upturned and a smile showing. Was it a pity smile? Maybe, but it was for sure the face of amusement as you break down beneath him.

“H-holy shit…‘Sei- s’right there,” you declared.

“Huh? What is?”

A very implying whine followed. Matsukawa scooped his arm under your head like a pillow, his left hand turning your chin to face him. He loved that face. That pretty face only dusted with fatigue and sadness but smothered in want. That same face he’ll get to see whenever he looks down. Huh. Maybe he was a little sadistic.

Your body scrunched and your knees came up in ecstasy.

“Talk to me,” he says, but you barely could keep your eyes open the way he was avoiding the spot on purpose. You wondered how he did it, already having learned your body and how you reacted so well in such a short time. You were so close already and he was gonna ruin it, even though you’d probably still find a way to cum anyway.

You tried your best to muster up something and prayed he’d take it.

“Faster,” you ordered. No response. Actually instead of doing what you said, he pulled them out, assumingely because of the sudden attitude. You immediately went to apologize. He was actively in charge of your body, after all.

You verbally groan in annoyance, to where you hear a responding muffled giggle, so you open your eyes to see what happened.

You meet a view of his smiling jawline, looking down past the counter. His hand was still beneath your chin, almost as if he was protecting you from being uncomfortable, but his teeth held his shirt up as he used whatever was left on his fingers to jerk himself off. This was the disruption in question.

He didn’t mean to basically abandon you, but undoing the jawstring and letting himself free seemed like it would benefit everyone. And he was big. You’d seen big, but he was big all the way around.

You watched in awe as his fingers left a shine of gloss behind when they reached the reddening tip from the bottom.

He threw his head back and groaned in relief, finally being reminded what it felt like to be touched with someone else’s presence.

“Sorry, couldn’t resist.”

With a look to your impatient, shocked eyes, he knew you wanted it. Needed it almost.

He pressed off the counter with his elbow but left his hand under your head. Such a gentleman. Lifting both legs up, with a hand stretched under your knees like a baby, he spoke to you.

“You want it?” He’d ask. You’d nod aggressively, to where he’d ask again. “You gotta tell me.”

“Yes, I do.” You pleaded. Of course your head rolled slightly on his hand to see his face around your legs.

“Alright. Tell me when you wanna stop. Safeword is green.”

You’d never once said a safeword during sex and you doubt you’d use it now. Plus, Issei wouldn’t hurt you.

Intentionally.

You felt him pull your legs apart and hold them where they were previously scrunched up at your breasts. Finally, he rubbed you one last time, before the tip slowly started to diminish inside of you.

It’s amazing how the body makes fluid for moments like these. It’s also amazing how wet Mattsun got you so it’d hurt ten times less.

When he stopped moving about halfway there, he hung over your body almost menacingly; his silhouette breathing deeply and whatever necklace he had on from the day dangling. Your face contorted at the intrusion and your eyes unexpectedly swelled, making you lachrymose. It definitely could’ve been worse, but fuck he was big.

The ravenette slipped his shirt off and your head slid off his hand painlessly, the overwhelming heat from everywhere flowing to his brain. He almost couldn’t take it. You were so wet but so fucking tight at the same time, he couldn’t even bring himself to keep going. He bent over to meet you with a kiss on the jaw and his hand found your own so you could squeeze it as he went on. He buried his face in your neck.

“O-okay, you can move now,” you managed.

No response.

“Issei?” You pushed his hair aside with the hand that wasn’t in his so you could see him. His eyes were closed and his breathing was seeking stabilization through his mouth.

“Fucking just- gimme a second. Please.”

You knew it was pure desire and he was trying his best not to hurt you. He would promise ‘til death that he tried to stop, to take it slow, but it was irresistible the second you giggled at his current state (that you caused) and your stomach contracted with him inside. He immediately pushed forward so that he was balls deep into the fluttering feeling.

“Matts—”

The sudden squeeze on his hand could cut off circulation and the grunt that emitted from his body over and over as he continued to do it couldn’t be missed. At this point it didn’t even hurt anymore, but the previously denied orgasm returned full force.

Mattsun, of course, would apologize later; but it wasn’t later yet. He finally lifted himself off you and gathered your legs once more so your ankles were at his ears, trying to feel more of the ribbed walls on either side. Your mouth fell open at the spot.

“Ha-hohfuck ‘m gonna cum.” You whispered.

“Mhmm? Let me feel it baby,” He leaned over again, almost testing your flexibility, running a hand along your cheek and swiping away a single tear that dropped from earlier while his forehead was against yours. Now that he knew how far you could go, he’d have a lot of fun with the positions he’d put you in.

“Fuck, fuck-!” You’d find him through your lashes so he could kiss you, the never ending thrusts seemingly reaching your belly button. He loved sucking on those pretty lips of yours.

He only let out a laugh of satisfaction as you stilled and stiffened around him, your arms roaming his back and head turning away. He continued to thrust downward, never letting up speed, causing you to writhe underneath him with every curl of his hips. He did eventually pull away and extend his arms though. It was for a nice view of your body.

His length slipping in and out as a white ring forms that’ll signify how many times he’s made you cum; your breasts through the shirt following your body back and forth; the already fucked out face you wield accompanied with a yawn—it was all so much, he almost couldn’t look anymore. In fact, he won’t.

He grabbed you and pulled you further down the marble so you could roll over, your wriggling body basically halfway there. Up you go by your hair, that flexibility coming in to play a second time while he fucked you. When you moaned at the tug, he wouldn’t be Mattsun if he didn’t tease you for it.

“Wow, who would’ve guessed. You like when I pull your hair?”

“Yes daddy,” you respond. It was almost instantaneous. You wished you could’ve said you meant to do it, but it was honestly an accident.

His thrusts slightly change, you wish you could say how. He dropped your head forcefully, took both of your wrists behind your back, and pulled you up by your throat. Your neck was strained trying to face him but you couldn’t help it, you had to listen when he was talking to you. He was amused, to say the least—especially when you stopped listening because of the way he was barely brushing that sweet nerve.

“That’s a filthy mouth of yours. Who knew you were such a slut?” He’d grin into your ear. “Mgh- since you’ve gotten so good at it, why don’t you tell daddy what you want?”

As long as you’ve known him, he’s made you say things you wouldn’t have even thought of saying prior. But right now? You couldn’t care less.

“Mmm,” you whimper, “h-harder daddy.”

You’re not sure how he unscrambled what you said with his hand restricting your throat and the other intermittent babble coming out of your mouth, but if anyone could, it was him. Mattsun was defiant and dominant, but when it came to your genuine pleasure, he’d gratify.

Teasing aside obviously.

With the slightest bend of his knees, he angled himself and thrusted farther upwards. Did you doubt he would remember where you’re g-spot was? You were choking up more than you already were and his name slipped off your tongue as if it were a veneration statement of butter. Your ass sounded throughout the apartment, the skin-on-skin contact loud enough for the neighbors to hear. The force was turning it red and Matsukawa loved it. He loved when the pussy talked back too.

In fact, you could tell, because he was gradually speeding up and his thrusts were slowly becoming sporadic.

“Oh shit-I’mmna-” You started.

“Come on it. Come on this dick so you can tell everyone you did it twice.”

“Mhmm.”

“You can tell all your little friends you’re mine and I’m yours.”

“Yes daddy…”

“Come so you find all the women I’ve ever talked to and tell them you’re the only one I want.”

With that, your eyebrows leveled out and your eyes shut while trying to process the sex drive and sweet believable words at the same time. Your body held onto Mattsun for dear life, to where he let go of your throat and held you close on the fall back down to your elbows. You were exhausted, but that grip your pussy still had on him was deadly. Deadly enough for him to slightly question whether you’d be a bad mom or not.

He obviously chose against it and sighed along your back while you came before pulling out. You turned around and crouched knowingly with whatever strength was left, then watched him jerk himself off above you. After you decided to take matters into your own hands (literally), he held himself up with his support on the counter. His head hanging over you while you stroked the other was a sight to remember.

With a final hiss, white decorated your face like a picture.

“Holy fuck,” his head faced the ceiling as he ran a hand over his face. The view he was met with when he came back down was insane, your hand curved behind his thigh and the other milking him dry of whatever was left. With a single bud of cum remaining, you licked your lips and smiled weakly.

What the hell would he do with you?

©hxltic

#haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#haikyuu headcanons #haikyu x reader #haikyuu smut #god i want him so bad #matsukawa x y/n #mattsun imagines #mattsun smut #mattsun #mattsun <3 #hq matsukawa #matsukawa issei #haikyuu hcs #issei smut

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pussbuss · 2 months

Text

(18+) RYAN ROSS X READER

pre split! ryan ross x AFAB! reader - warnings: ryans a munch, drug use/smoking, smut (wrap it before you tap it, folks). lowercase intended, not proofread, A/N at end, enjoy!! <3

while at a house party for “a fever you can’t sweat out” reaching top charts, you and ryan sneak away to smoke.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

ryan held you by the waist as you navigated the crowded house together. his hand on the small of your back, leading you through bunches of drunks, trying desperately to find a quiet place to hang.

you guys decided on the pool house. it reeked of chemicals as you sat down on a counter with pool salts on it. “are you ready?” you asked, pulling the goods out of your bag. he nodded eagerly in response, watching in awe as you placed a little bag, a grinder, filters, and some rolling papers beside you.

you pulled the lighter out from the inside of your bra and placed it next to everything else. ryan watched in utter excitement as you prepared your guys’ joint. you ground up the bud and then rolled it up in the paper, licking it shut.

ryan watched as you placed the joint between your lips. he flicked the lighter on and lit it. you took a long drag, holding it in for a few seconds before exhaling the smoke.

you handed ryan the joint. he took an extremely overzealous inhale and immediately began to cough, spitting smoke everywhere.. “wow!” you laughed. “that’s too big for your first time!!” he handed you the joint and stuttered out a few broken words. “f-fuck..” he laughed in between coughs.

he was huddled over next to you, coughing out smoke as he gripped the ledge. you rub his back, whispering quiet praises in his ear. “it’s okay,” you hit the joint again, slowly exhaling the smoke.

when we finally regained his composure, he asked for the joint, taking a smaller hit and exhaling quickly after. still, a small cough left his mouth. “smaller..” you laughed, running a hand through his hair.

he looked as if he wanted more, like he wanted your friendship to explore “new heights”.

he positioned himself between your legs, looking up at you, placing his hands on your waist. you place the joint between your lips and inhale again, bringing your lips to ryan’s and exhaling the smoke into his mouth. his eyes widened and his grip on your waist tightened and he let go, exhaling the smoke. “woah..” he let out a breathy laugh and moved hair out of your face. he stands on his tip toes, giving you a gentle kiss.

first, his kiss was shy and patient, but it quickly turned desperate and sloppy. you straddled him, gently pulling his hair with one hand while the other one made its way down his chest, pulling up his shirt. a small gasp left his mouth when you ran your hands over his v-line, slowly making your way down to his zipper. his eyes widened and he let out a soft whimper.

“can i?” you whispered in his ear, kissing the side of his neck. he nodded frantically. “yes-“ he cleared his throat. “yes please..” his body shook nervously as he brought his cold hands inside your shirt, bringing his fingers up and around the bottom hem to remove it. “is this okay?” he asked. you nodded, flashing a genuine smile. you helped him take it off, revealing your cheetah print bra. he quickly joined you; removing his jacket, black tee, his plaid red and black boxers peaking out of his jeans.

his lips quickly returned to yours as he multitasked, unhooking your bra in the back and gently removing it from your body. he dropped it, staring in shock at his best friends boobs; he could’ve sworn his dick got so hard it fell off. “oh my god..” he whispered, quickly bringing his mouth to your collarbone, kissing down your cleavage.

he brought his mouth back up to yours, right hand fondling your breast as the left held your jaw. “so cute..” you whispered, cupping his hard cock with your hand. he shivered as you did so, whimpering quietly as he kissed you eagerly.

his hands unbuttoned your shorts and hooked on the inside of the hem, bringing them down over your knees and placing them next to you.

he squatted down in front of you as you spread your legs for him. he placed chaste kisses along your thighs until he reached your pussy. he looked up at you for approval and you nodded, smiling expectantly at him.

he ran a finger up your clothed folds, sending shivers down your spine. he rubbed a few circles on your clit before he buried his face into your clothed pussy. he placed wet kisses on your clit and rubbed a finger along your slit. “ryan..” you groaned, holding his face close by a chunk of his hair. he stopped for a moment, linking his fingers under the hem of your underwear and pulling them off. then, he dove right back in.

“so, so handsome buried between my thighs.. wanna see you do this all the time..” you whispered. he hummed into you, sending vibrations to your clit. you held his hair back as he went to town on you, circling your clit with his tongue.

then, he slowly gathered pre-cum on his middle finger and slid it into you, curling it up. a harsh groan left your mouth as he pushed in and out, curling his finger up, then slowly adding another finger.

he quickly changed pace, going from teasingly slow to the perfect speed, fingers working magic on you as he ate you.

he stared you in the eye as he ate you out, you could see his shit eating grin as he worked on you. “s’close..” you groaned, grabbing the back of his head and pulling some of his hair. you grinded your hips into his face, making you come closer to your release.

finally, you finished, you let out a loud moan, cumming all over ryan’s tongue. he looked up at you as he sucked his fingers clean, placing kisses along your thigh.

as you slowly gathered your composure, you sat up, pulling ryan up with you and kissing him. “that was so hot, baby..” he moaned into you, tongue roaming around your mouth as he fondled your breasts.

you hopped off the ledge, clothes dropped to the floor as you swapped spots with ryan. you helped him up, pants down to his ankles as he adjusted himself. he hooked his fingers under his boxers and pulled them down. his cock slapped his stomach and he let out a quiet whimper. his cock was swollen and red, dripping pre-cum from his tip as he looked down at you. “you’re beautiful..” he mumbled, curling your hair behind your ears. he kissed your forehead before you squatted in front of him, rubbing a gentle finger along his tip, then spitting on it.

your hands slid down the sides of his cock, gently pumping him up and down with a slow but steady pace. his breath hitched in his throat as you continued to do so, placing gentle kisses on his thighs before licking up his cock. you bobbed your head down, slowly taking his tip in your mouth, swirling your tongue around it.

his hands go to the back of your head, grabbing some hair from the nape of your neck and holding your head, lightly guiding you up and down his cock. “so pretty like this..” he moaned, locking eyes with you and placing a kiss on the top of your head.

your hand jerked the base of his cock while your mouth tried to fit all it could, slobbering all over him as you sucked him off. he was a moaning mess, whispering sweet praises in your ear. “mmm, you’re doing such a good job.” he let out a breathy laugh and cupped your cheek.

you quickened your pace and his noises only became louder. “so close..” he closed his eyes and bucked his hips gently into you.

he let out a strained groan as you felt his hot load shoot into the back of your throat. releasing ryan’s cock with a pop, you swallow his cum, wipe your mouth clean and try to catch your breath.

he pulled you up onto his lap and kissed you hard. “so hot..” he whispered, repositioning you so you were closer to him.

he jerked his cock a few times before positioning himself over your folds. he ran his tip through them a few times before slowly entering you. his eyes widened and his mouth fell open as you squeezed his cock with your warm hole. “oh god..” he whispered in your ear, hugging you close. he buried his head in your cleavage and began to move his hips up and down. you join him, quickly finding the pace in which you’d go in that moment.

you watch from the window behind as party goers enter in and out of the house. the windows of the pool house were fogged up with hot breath as he pumped in and out of you. the sound of skin on skin echoed throughout the small room. “you-“ he babbled, “-so hot- god, i love you..” he laughed, running his hands through your hair.

you place small hickeys along his collar bone, hoping maybe someone will see them when you go back into the party. his hand reaches down to rub circles on your clit, bringing you closer to your release..

“fuckkkk,” you giggle, “next time.. we uh.. do this-“ you said in between thrusts, “i want.. to not be in.. some ransom persons… pool house..” he laughed in response. “please,” he groans, pace quickening as he grabs your ass. “fuck!” you groan, cumming on his cock. it happened so much faster than you had anticipated. he continued to thrust for a minute but then pulled out and began jerking it.

“can i,, cum on your,, face?” he groaned. you moaned and nodded, hopping down and squatting in front of him as he continued to jerk in front of you.

he shot his load all over your face, groaning loudly, and placing a kiss on your lips before catching his breath. “wow,,” he laughed. “that was… amazing..” “y-yeah..” you giggled, placing a kiss on his cheek.. “sorry i… did it all over your face, here, let me help. he picked up his shirt and helped you wipe his cum off of your face. “i don’t… need this…” he laughed. he pulled his pants up and zipped them. he helped you get your clothes back on.

he put his jacket on and zipped it up all the way to hide the fact that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. he threw the shirt into the corner of the pool house and continued helping you put your clothes back on. he buttoned up the back of your bra and helped you with your shorts. “thanks, ry..” you smiled, kissing his cheek. “we gotta do this more often,,” you winked, opening the pool house door for him.

you two walked back into the crowded house together, hand in hand.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A/N, thanks for reading! i’m sorry if it sucks, i kinda rushed the ending :0 DM for requests, it would be greatly appreciated if someone helped me with prompts so i can get more writing out! thanks! <3

#Spotify #ryan ross x reader #ryan ross #panic! at the disco #panic at the disco #patd #p!atd #ryan patd #pre split patd #ryro #brendon urie #brendon urie x reader #emo #2000s emo #early 2000s #2000s #emocore

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fettuccinealfred0 · 4 months

Text

Til Death Do Us Part | Part 8

Series Masterlist

Astarion x f!reader, Arranged Marriage AU

Word Count: 10k

(CW: allusions to previous sexual encounters)

Summary:

“A letter for you,” Gale interrupts Astarion’s thoughts, placing the crisp white paper on his desk.

Perfect timing. Shadowheart was supposed to send him a letter when the two of you arrived safely at the cottage and he had just been starting to worry about the delay.

Astarion rips into the letter greedily.

The air around him suddenly reeks of sulfur and Astarion’s stomach drops when he is not greeted by Shadowheart’s neat print.

The letter is brief:

“Dearest Astarion,

I formally request your presence at the House of Hope to renegotiate the terms of our contract. I’ve even gone to the trouble of ensuring that your lovely new bride is able to join us.

Remember, boy. I made you. I can break you just as easily.

-Raphael”

Read on ao3 here.

You had only been gone for a day and Astarion was already miserable.

This wasn’t what he planned for when he arrived home. He had missed you- the warmth of your skin, your little smiles that felt like sunshine, your sharp wit. In the best case scenario, he hoped you would already be naked and waiting for him so he wouldn’t have to waste time on removing all those damned layers of your clothing. You would fall to your knees for him again and he would get to watch the lovely tears gather on your lashes and run down your face as you choked on his cock like the night before he left.

He had replayed that memory many times in his head while he was gone. More often than he would have liked to admit since his attention should have been focused on finding the final gem.

More realistically, you would have ordered him to take a bath the moment you saw how dirty he was after days of traveling. He would have pulled you in with him, content to watch you move atop his cock as you straddled him in the bathtub.

Astarion was intimately familiar with sex and fucking and depraved, carnal lust. He knew bodies and taught himself how to perform and pleasure others so that the act could be over as quickly as possible. He had grown weary and disinterested- it had been so long since he had thought of intimacy as anything other than a manipulation tactic used to exploit people.

But you had reignited that spark in him, had fanned his desire into a flame that consumed him whole. You had awoken something primal, some inner beast which needed to be nurtured and fed by your touch. It all felt different with you. It felt like a disservice that the acts of worship the two of you performed should even be described using the same word as all those times before. With you it felt like love, it felt like devotion, it felt like coming home.

And he found himself enjoying the little moments after just as much as the pleasure itself- the way you would wrap around one another and talk or rest or read.

So after Astarion’s appetite for you was relatively sated (he doubted he would ever truly get enough of you), he would have given you the silly new romance book he had brought back for you as a present. While romance was not his favorite genre, he had started sneaking peeks at the covers of all the books you read very soon after the two of you were first married. At the time, it felt like an easy way to learn about you. And he had found that you loved a romance.

He was perfectly content to let you read the new book aloud to him. He would get to rest his head on your soft stomach and poke fun at the dark, mysterious love interest who was likely entirely too melodramatic and brooding. He would relish in the way that you would narrow your pretty eyes as you looked down at him from over the spine of the book. You would probably have some jab about him needing to take a look in the mirror before calling people melodramatic and brooding. He would get to wink at you and remind you that alas, he was so beautiful that mirrors could not capture his reflection.

Not that he had spent the entire ride home fantasizing or anything…

But in his wildest nightmares, he never imagined that his return would have ended in a fight.

He had hardly even gotten a good look at you before he saw that gods damned diary in your hands and everything was shredded to pieces. He should have expected something like this would happen soon. Everything had been going too well and the fates seemingly loved nothing more than reminding Astarion of his place at every opportunity.

But how could you- his perfect, flawless wife- have betrayed him like this?

Astarion is used to being mad. For centuries, little more kept him alive than the spark of rage which burned deep inside his chest where his heart should have been beating. But Astarion was not used to being angry at you. He had times where he got frustrated or upset, but most of the time that was because you were pointing out some fact about himself that he would rather stay hidden.

Even your last fight had not been your fault- he had been the one pushing you away, he was the one who believed himself to be using you, he was the one who was unequipped to handle the swirl of emotions inside himself.

And even now, Astarion does not know if he is more mad at you for prying into his personal affairs or if he is more upset with the fact that your opinion of him has certainly changed. Now that you truly know him, there is no reason why you would continue to love him.

He still shouldn’t have yelled at you and ordered you away but he just needed the fighting to stop. He needed to get out of there, needed to think. And he wasn’t able to do that with you staring up at him with big, tearful eyes.

Of course, in the end, he had only served to make it worse. That is all Astarion knows how to do.

And right now, he should be preparing himself for the worst case scenario, but he still can’t help but hope that the two of you would somehow manage to overcome this. That you would somehow manage to grow stronger now that everything was out in the open.

In time, he is certain that he will forgive you. But he does not know if you will ever forgive him. Your anger burns brighter and hotter than his ever could.

“A letter for you,” Gale interrupts Astarion’s thoughts, placing the crisp white paper on his desk.

Perfect timing. Shadowheart was supposed to send him a letter when the two of you arrived safely at the cottage and he had just been starting to worry about the delay.

Astarion rips into the letter greedily.

The air around him suddenly reeks of sulfur and Astarion’s stomach drops when he is not greeted by Shadowheart’s neat print.

The letter is brief:

“Dearest Astarion,

I formally request your presence at the House of Hope to renegotiate the terms of our contract. I’ve even gone to the trouble of ensuring that your lovely new bride is able to join us.

Remember, boy. I made you. I can break you just as easily.

-Raphael”

A phantom chill runs up Astarion’s spine and reverberates deep in Astarion’s bones. If he didn’t know better, he would think Cazador was the one who wrote this letter. How many times had Astarion had the same degrading, patronizing sentiments hurled at him by Cazador?

But at least Astarion had known Cazador- knew how he thought and how he would react. Raphael is a new beast entirely. Something far more terrifying, far more unpredictable.

Astarion had lived in a state of constant fear for centuries but he had never felt a panic like the icy hands that gripped his heart now.

Raphael had you.

—----------

They had gagged you almost immediately. Bastards.

To be fair, you had been screaming and biting fairly violently at your captors, but you still don’t think that warranted a dirty, old rag being shoved in your mouth.

Astarion would probably have a crude joke if he saw you like this.

Or, well- he probably would immediately kill these bastards and then make a comment about how he ‘had much better ways of keeping you quiet.’ The idea would almost make you laugh if your circumstances weren’t so dire.

After you had been subdued, your kidnappers had checked both you and Shadowheart for weapons. You, of course, did not have any and were biting and kicking whenever any of their hands threatened to slip beneath your skirt and check for hidden blades, which is what led to the subsequent gagging and binding of your hands and legs.

Shadowheart, however, seemed to have a variety of weapons hidden on her person. How did she even manage that? Did she just… carry weapons around all the time? And how did she even know how to use them?

It was as if everyone is determined to keep their backstories a secret from you.

The two of you are unceremoniously shoved into the back of the carriage after you are bound and deemed free of weapons. Two of the kidnappers sit in the back beside you and Shadowheart, sure to keep their knives in hand in case you get any ideas about escaping. Unfortunately, said knives are just barely out of your reach so you’re unable to steal one away. It’s not like you could anyway, with your hands bound.

You try to sort through some sort of an escape plot in your mind, attempting in vain to communicate with Shadowheart with just your eyes free. Whenever you look at her, she just shakes her head in warning, like she knows what you are thinking so you give up on that after a while.

The curtains to the carriage have been drawn to prevent prying eyes, but there’s a slight gap in the fabric that allows you just a glimpse out of the carriage. You focus on attempting to recognize any surroundings.

There’s… a wall? No. A gate!

Of course. You’re being taken to the city, Baldur’s Gate. You had always hoped to visit one day and explore that place where your mother had grown up. Admittedly, you had hoped your first visit would be under better circumstances.

When the carriage finally stops, rather than untying your hands or your legs, you are instead lifted over one of the men’s shoulders and carried like a sack of potatoes. You try your best to wriggle and kick and generally be difficult. Eventually, you do manage to get a good kick to the groin of the man who is carrying you over his shoulder and he groans and buckles at the knees.

Your little act of revenge immediately backfires when you are dropped harshly on the ground by the man who was carrying you as he cries out in pain from your kick. Your own hip collides roughly with the hard rock of the floor and it sends a sharp, bruising pain radiating through your bones. Since the man who was originally holding you is whining and cupping his groin, another man simply reaches down to yank you up over his own shoulder and resumes carrying you to wherever these kidnappers were planning to take you.

It’s extra annoying because you see that they’re letting Shadowheart walk behind you. Stupid model prisoner.

After being led down what seems like a maze of corridors, you are finally deposited in a filthy cell. The gag is roughly ripped out of your and you take deep swallows of fresh air for the first time in hours. The sides of your mouth are burning from where the rough material of the rag had been rubbing against your skin.

“Drink,” one of the captors commands.

“I most certainly will not,” you shoot back at him, voice hoarse and your throat on fire. Drinking unknown substances from kidnappers seems like an obvious way to get poisoned.

The man grabs your hair roughly, forcing your head back. When your mouth involuntarily opens in surprise, he pours the vial of liquid down your throat.

You try to yell at him and tell him off for horribly you have been treated, but your tongue feels too heavy in your mouth. The corners of your vision are starting to blacken and it feels like your head is swirling.

Is this how you were going to die?

—-----------

Your eyes feel so heavy.

Someone is brushing back the hair from your face and you hear a soothing, lulling voice urging you to wake up.

“A-Astarion?” You try to slur out but your tongue is barely cooperating with your brain.

Because surely, he will be there when you awake. Surely, the events of the past few days have all been some horrible nightmare and you will have woken up never having read Astarion’s journal. He will have just arrived home while you were sleeping and he will be kneeling at your bedside like he had before he left, greeting you with kisses and showering you with love.

“No, my lady,” you hear the twinkly, distinctly feminine voice say. You keep trying to blink your eyes open but you’re hardly able to see past your own lashes before they’re falling shut again.

You’re so tired.

It feels like an eternity before you’re finally able to hold your eyes open for a few seconds at a time. Shadowheart’s blurry, worried face is looking down at you.

“My lady, are you alright?” She asks, fretting nervously around you. You feel something cool being pressed to your forehead. It helps you focus a bit on reconnecting your mind to your body, but your head still feels so fuzzy.

“Wha- what happened?” you try to ask, but it comes out sounding garbled due to your lack of control over your tongue.

“They gave us sleeping draughts,” Shadowheart explains. “Easier to keep watch over prisoners if they’re unconscious.”

All your muscles still feel too heavy- like one of those dreams where you’re stuck in sand and can’t move. Yet, Shadowheart looks like she’s completely normal.

“Why are you awake?” you try to ask but hearing your own voice, it sounds more like gibberish. Shadowheart looks confused for a moment before she deciphers what you were trying to say.

“I had a… strange upbringing,” she says. “I know how to deal with situations like this. My body learned how to react to sleeping draughts. I would guess you’ve never taken something this strong before?”

You just hum out a yes, still too tired to try to speak. Like anyone, you had taken light sleeping elixirs and drank sleeping teas when you were sick but whatever the kidnappers had given you must have been hundred of times more potent. You can’t even tell how long you were asleep. One minute your eyes were closing, and the next they were struggling to open again.

What kind of upbringing would possibly lead Shadowheart to have been trained for any sort of situation like this? What- was she in some kind of cult?

“Drink water, it will help flush the rest of the draught out of your system,” she instructs, guiding a cup to your mouth. It seems impossible to try to lift your own arms so you let Shadowheart hold your head up and give you little sips of water.

“They gave us water,” you point out, finding it a bit easier to speak coherently.

“I thought the same thing,” Shadowheart says. “They want us alive. They’ve had ample opportunity to kill us by now.”

“Who-” you start to ask but you already know who. The answer is so obvious it’s almost funny. “Raphael?”

Shadowheart nods. “I assume. He’s the only one with the resources and motivations to pull off a kidnapping like this. The Gu-” Shadowheart cuts herself off, looking a bit worried that she has said too much.

“The Gur?” You finish her though. “I did read his diary, I know most of his past now.”

“I haven’t read his diary,” Shadowheart says with a sense of moral superiority that makes you want to slap that look off her pretty face. If only you were able to move your arms. “I don’t know what he writes about in there. But yes, the Gur would likely have simply killed us and sent your head back to Astarion.”

“Well, let’s be glad it wasn’t them who ambushed us. I’m rather fond of my head,” you tease. Astarion would have smiled or chuckled at that but Shadowheart just stares at you, solemnly, like you are an idiot who doesn’t understand the perilous nature of your current situation.

“I don’t think that Raphael is the better alternative. Sometimes death can be a mercy. At least with the Gur, we could have counted on it to be quick and relatively painless. But Raphael…” There’s an almost imperceptible shiver that runs down Shadowheart’s spine.

“So, why are we awake now?” You question, though you are sure Shadowheart is wondering the same thing.

The water has helped, your mind feels less clouded and you’re able to think again. You stretch out your arms and legs, trying to wake them up a bit before you push yourself up to sit, leaning against the wall of the damp prison cell.

“I don’t know.” Shadowheart’s brow furrows in concentration, like she’s trying to call upon a memory that doesn’t exist. “I have no idea how long we were even asleep. I only woke up a couple hours before you. But I’m sure this is all planned.” She gives you a look. “Raphael is a powerful man. You read about him, right? In the diary. I can only assume Astarion would have written about him.”

“Astarion’s got some sort of contract with him. Raphael’s some sort of devil or something,” you say, closing your eyes so you can focus on recalling what you had read about Raphael. It’s exponentially harder than normal to remember any details with the remains of the sleeping draught still running through your veins.

“You know about the gods, right?” Shadowheart asks and because your brain is still foggy, you’re having a hard time following her line of thought. You nod, anyway. Everyone knew about the gods. “Well the gods rule over the heavens. And because the universe needs balance, the devils rule over the hells. Raphael is the son of a very powerful archdevil, Mephistopheles.”

That sounds familiar to you. Astarion had written something similar.

Shadowheart continues, her voice a bit wary, “Due to his parentage, Raphael isn’t as powerful as gods or devils themselves, but he holds significantly more power than most mortals. He’s a… dangerous man.”

“And he wants the gems of Karsus to rule over the hells, right?”

“The gems from the Crown of Karsus were split up a long time ago so that no one person could rebuild the Crown.” Shadowheart explains. “But if Raphael can find the third gem, he has a chance of taking down the current ruler of the hells and seizing control of that realm.”

“Is that… a bad thing?” You ask hesitantly, unsure of the politics surrounding the heavens and the hells and how they relate to the mortal world.

“It really won’t affect us at all.” Shadowheart shrugs. “But Astarion is still looking for the final gem and I fear Raphael is growing impatient.”

And from personal experience, you knew it was never a good thing when power-hungry men felt impatient. It almost always led to death and destruction.

Shadowheart’s voice is grave. “And more than that, I fear that the more powerful Raphael grows, the more he will try to use Astarion to do his dirty work. Part of why so many people have fallen for Raphael’s charms is because he comes to them in their darkest hours and offers kindness and hope. It’s all a farce, of course, but it’s beneficial to him to maintain the idea that he is respectable. I worry he’ll ruin Astarion’s reputation and use him as the front for the unsavory bits of business he needs to conduct. And Astarion doesn’t deserve that, he’s already suffered more than enough.”

“So why does Astarion have to look for these gems? Why can’t Raphael?” You ask the question that has been bugging you since reading Astarion’s diary. Other than the fact that this is some sort of powerplay, you genuinely can’t figure out Raphael’s motivations.

“Raphael can’t move very far away from his hellmouth, which is where I assume we are right now. He becomes too weak in the real world,” Shadowheart answers. “And powerful men always have enemies. If he were to leave the source of his power, he’d be much easier to kill.”

Ah, yes- good old self-preservation. It’s a bit comforting to know that beneath it all, Raphael fears death just as much as anyone else.

“How do you know all this?”

Shadowheart is amazing at explaining everything to you, now that she is no longer sworn to silence by Astarion.

A little smile dances on Shadowheart’s lips and you can tell she’s amused at your disbelief. “I’ve worked for Astarion for many years. And before that, I used to belong to a group of devout worshippers of the goddess Shar. I learned a lot more about the true darkness in the world than most people do.”

Oh, so she was in a cult. That explains a lot, actually.

“Well, thank you for finally explaining everything to me,” you say sincerely. For once, you feel you finally have a grasp over the situation you had found yourself in. “You have no idea how frustrating it was to never know what was true and what was simply my imagination. I felt as if I was losing my mind.”

“Believe me, I wanted to tell you,” she assures you, grasping one of your hands in her own. “But Astarion begged us not to say anything. And I owe him my life, so I respect him enough to listen when he asks me to do something.”

“You owe him your life?” You ask, a bit shocked. Astarion was not the type to play savior.

“He rescued me and several followers of Shar when he came to us looking for information on the gems. I helped him find the second one and after, Astarion helped me escape Shar’s cult by offering me a position on his staff.” Her voice turns angry. “I had been… taken from my family by the followers when I was a young girl and groomed by their ideology. I never knew any different until Astarion and Gale came along.”

“And Gale?” You’re more than surprised that Gale is entangled in this, as well. He didn’t seem like someone who sought out danger.

Shadowheart looks a bit wary, “It’d probably be better if you asked him to share his own story with you.”

“Yes, but it will take less time if you tell me,” you joke and Shadowheart laughs.

“True. The abridged version is that he was a scholar at a very prominent university in Baldur’s Gate until he grew too ambitious and started doing research which involved godly and demonic artifacts. They said he was a risk to the students and forced him out. He lost everything and was completely disowned by society. Because of his research, one of the first things Astarion did when he began looking for the gems was to track Gale down and offer him a position on his staff. With access to the libraries at the Szarr palace and the Ancunin manor, Gale happily accepted.”

“I never thought Astarion would be so willing to help people.”

“He’s willing to help people if they’re able to further his own cause,” Shadowheart says with a wry smile. “But I think deep down he does like picking up strays. He married you, after all. None of us saw that coming.”

It’s strange. Another piece in the puzzle that is Astarion. The more you learn, the more you realize that you perhaps did not know him at all. You had studied him so carefully, but perhaps you still weren’t fully able to see the man beneath the mask. Where did Astarion end and the performance begin?

It’s too much to think about with your mind still clouded by the after-affects of the draught. You rub at your eyes as if that will help clear away your doubt and confusion.

But it doesn’t help at all to sit around and dwell on Astarion. You need to do something, need to find some way out of here before Raphael can finish whatever he’s planning to do with you. You’re lucky that a couple pins managed to survive the fray and are still hanging limply in your hair. You start to pull them out and move toward the door.

“We need to get out of here,” you say, bending one of the pins so you can shimmy it into the lock on the door.

Shadowheart stills your hands. “No. We wouldn’t get anywhere. It’s smarter to wait. Don’t play your hand before it’s time.”

Why does she always have to be right about everything?

Shadowheart pulls the pins from your hands and slides them on the cuff of your dress, by your wrist.

“There,” she says. “Easy access. And any man would be too stupid to notice them.”

You give her hand a gentle squeeze in thanks.

“You know,” she starts to say and her lips turn up in a mischievous smile. It’s a look that’s so uncharacteristically Shadowheart that you have no idea what she is going to say next. “Astarion bragged about you for days after you broke into his study. It was disgusting.”

As always, that part of you that feeds on Astarion’s praise preens.

“I thought he was upset about that.” You’re shocked. That day had been one of the many times that the two of you had pinned each other to walls and traded heated words in the early days of your marriage. It still makes you a bit flustered to think back upon, even now.

“He was upset that you saw something you weren’t supposed to, maybe.” Shadowheart chuckles. “But he was all pleased that you knew how to pick locks.”

“Why would he care?”

Shadowheart inspects you curiously. “You didn’t know? He’s the best lock picker I’ve ever met. Fast, too.”

You should have guessed that based on his beautiful, dexterous hands.

“Astarion’s good at picking locks?” You ask and you hear your own voice crack a bit at the end. A simple fact like that shouldn’t rattle you to your very core but it serves as yet another reminder of how little Astarion seemingly trusted you if he was withholding even trivial pieces of information about himself.

How were you supposed to love someone who was so resistant to being known? It’s so unfair of him to expect you to have the resilience to continue poking and prodding at him until his defenses were finally worn down.

Your conversation is rudely interrupted by the guards returning and clanking their keys loudly as they attempt to find the correct key to unlock the door. You and Shadowheart side-eye each other as you watch them fumble with the key ring. These thugs were idiots.

When the door is finally open and they shove inside, one roughly grabs your wrists so he can secure them in heavy metal shackles. You hold your breath, trying to turn your wrist in a way so he won’t see the hair pins on the sleeve of your dress. As Shadowheart predicted, he doesn’t notice them at all. Like you thought- idiots.

They let you walk this time, at least. The guard’s hand digs into your shoulder as he steers you down a long hallway. The prison seems like an endless maze. You’re fairly certain that you’re underground based on the damp, musty smell that permeates the air.

And then, you turn a corner and the damp air is replaced by the horrific smell of death and rotting flesh. You try to bring a hand up to cover your nose and mouth and one of the guards uses the chains to yank it back down.

There’s so many cells- they continue down seemingly forever and they’re all filled to the brim with hundreds and thousands of people. It’s atrocious. Their mangled, bloody hands reach out to you as you pass, mouths open wide with desperate, soundless cries.

“Oh gods,” you whisper in horror when you get a good look at one person’s black, empty eye sockets. Is this what happened to all those people who promised their souls to Raphael?

“Don’t look at them.” The guard’s gruff voice calls out and he uses his grip on your shoulder to force you to look straight ahead again. You’re still working through the after-effects of the sleeping draught and the sudden motion causes your head to spin and your stomach to turn.

Just when you think these cages of people are never going to end, you thankfully turn the corner and are led through a beautifully ornate set of doors and up a staircase. The instant dichotomy of the new, fancy decor makes you acutely aware that the guards led you through that hallway of prisoners for a reason. It was a threat from Raphael- a reminder of what Astarion’s future holds after death.

You’re finally deposited in a large drawing room. The walls are filled with paintings and weird trinkets and artifacts that don’t look like they were made by humans. There’s a man standing with his back turned to you as he stares up at a painting on the wall.

“You’ve got quite the set of teeth on you, from what I hear,” the man says. “And here I was expecting your husband to be the only one that bites.”

So this must be Raphael.

He finally turns around to face you and he looks too human. He’s handsome. Not like Astarion, whose seductive, alluring beauty is meant to knock you off-guard and make you willing to offer up your throat to him in sacrifice. No, this man is handsome like a father might be- like he deserves your trust and knows what is best for you.

You snarl at him, baring your teeth. You had learned a lot about biting in your time married to Astarion and you were certainly willing to use that knowledge now.

“Very scary,” Raphael condescends with an amused grin. He waves his hand and the guards start pushing you forward again to the head of the room. “Now, come along. I do believe your husband has finally made it to the city, which means it’s almost time for the show.”

The show. That doesn’t sound good. You don’t like how planned out this all is.

Your arms are raised into shackles hanging down from the ceiling and it’s all so very blase. You would think a devil would at least be a bit original in his tortures.

Perhaps you had been spending too much time with Astarion… You were starting to grow appreciative of a bit of melodrama.

And they let Shadowheart stand in the corner of the room, surrounded by two men in shiny silver armor. Of course, she isn’t the bait- she isn’t the one forced to be put on display for a devil’s amusement.

Raphael levels you with a stern gaze that reminds you entirely too much of your father. It has you shrinking in on yourself in a way that you hate. In your life, your father had been the only person who made you feel so small and unwilling to fight back.

“I do believe your husband will be arriving at any moment. Do your best for me, will you?” Raphael asks, reaching forward to tuck a strand of loose hair behind your ear. It feels like a warning, as if he somehow knows about the pins on your wrist. You try to maintain his gaze even though your instinct is to look up and ensure the pins are still snugly tucked on the cuff of your dress. Raphael’s eyes are cold and lifeless and make you want to wilt away into nothingness. “If I don’t think you look scared enough, I’ll have to inspire some true fear in you. And neither of us really want that.”

The lightly veiled threat makes the blood drain from your face. You hate to imagine what actions a devil might employ to inspire true fear in someone.

And it seems as if Raphael has planned everything down to the second because he turns away from you and over his shoulder, you can see Astarion sauntering into the room almost immediately. He has daggers in both hands and blood speckling his face and he’s never looked more beautiful.

This is what Astarion was built for- gore and blood and revenge.

Karlach, Wyll, Lae’zel, and even Gale and Halsin, to your surprise, follow after him. All of them are armed to the teeth with weapons and covered in armor. You certainly wouldn’t want to cross them in a fight.

“I believe you happened to find my missing wife, Raphael. Give her back and we can call this a misunderstanding,” Astarion commands.

He’s radiant in his anger- eyes aflame with pure, unadulterated rage. They dart over to you momentarily and he seems to let out an almost imperceptible breath of relief when he sees you are mostly unharmed. You’d run to him if your arms weren’t in these damned chains.

“I don’t think my intentions have been misunderstood at all,” Raphael says, with an air of unrefined haughtiness. Astarion bares his teeth in response and his fangs glint dangerously- a silent reminder. Raphael simply ignores him, as if Astarion doesn’t even register as a threat.

“I’ve been a fairly… hands off boss. But in return, I expect reasonable progress. And you’ve been distracted lately, I think.” Raphael comes to stand behind you, using your body as a shield in case anyone decides to release an arrow or throw a dagger at him.

He grabs your chin roughly, turning you so he can inspect your profile. The way his fingers dig into your skin, you are sure you will be left with bruises along your jaw.

“I can understand why, she’s very pretty.” He leers down at you and you hate the way his eyes burn into you- like he owns you.

You spit in his eyes and use that distraction to stomp all your weight down on his foot. His grip on your chin loosens enough that you’re able to tear yourself free from his grasp, but your arms are still chaining you to the ceiling, restricting your ability to run away.

When you glance over to Astarion, he’s got a smug little look on his face like he’s all proud of you- like he counted on Raphael underestimating your will to fight back. And for just a second, as you’re staring into Astarion’s eyes, everything going on around you feels like background noise. For just a second, it’s you and Astarion and everything is going to be okay.

And then Raphael shatters that illusion by talking again.

“And such a fighter.” This time Raphael’s voice doesn’t sound quite so impressed as he wipes the spit out of his eyes. He turns to Astarion, completely ignoring you now that you have proven difficult and uncooperative. “I think Harleep will enjoy breaking her in, don’t you?”

You don’t completely understand the threat but based on Raphael’s voice, Harleep is not someone you want to meet. The warning seems completely directed at Astarion and his pale face drains and his eyes go wide in response. Okay, yeah, based on his reaction, Harleep’s not a nice guy.

“I can work quicker,” Astarion says, struggling to keep his voice calm in an attempt to diffuse the rapidly escalating situation. “We have a lot of good leads. I’ll find the last gem, I promise. Just let her go.”

Raphael laughs. “You’re in no position to be adding amendments to our contract, Lord Ancunin,” He says the title like Astarion is so far beneath him. “I much prefer to see you being obedient like the good little lap dog I know you are. No wonder Cazador took such special interest in you. You’re so delightfully pathetic.”

It enrages you to hear him talking about Astarion like that. It has you nearly ripping your arms out of these chains to wrap your hands around Raphael’s throat. And Raphael is just a bit too far away for you to stomp on his foot again. Evidently, he was smart enough to learn his lesson the first time.

“Your love for the girl will be your noose. The final nail in your coffin,” Raphael says, chuckling sinisterly at his own wordplay.

How very creative to mention coffins to a vampire, you think sarcastically.

Raphael steps closer to you again, petting your hair like you’re a pet. “And I think I’ll keep her. For now, at least. She’s lovely collateral. You can have her back when you bring me the final gem. Perhaps this will motivate you to work a bit quicker.”

Raphael moves away from you and you feel like you’re finally able to take a deep breath again. He strolls over to an imposing wooden chest at the head of the room, where a mechanism begins to hiss. With the release of steam, the chest opens, three identical pedestals emerging from within. Two pedestals showcase shiny gems, but the third remains empty.

“Look how lonely they are,” Raphael says, gesturing dramatically to the two gems with his arm. “They’re missing the final piece. I don’t know how much longer I can be patient.”

You finally get a good look at the two gems. They look so familiar- the intricate gold metal work encasing the shining green gemstones.

Oh shit.

Oh… shit…

You recognize those gems because you own their missing sister, carefully tucked away in a hollowed out book on your bookshelf.

Your mother’s necklace. How did she even get that gem?

Your panic and surprise bleed through on your face for a moment before you can carefully school your features. Out of the corner of your eye, you feel Astarion noticing you- and you can’t possibly hide your reactions from him. He knows you too well.

This whole time. The thing that Astarion had been looking for had been quite literally under his nose.

You don’t offer up this information. In no world were you going to let this Raphael guy get what he wants, not after he had kidnapped you and tormented Astarion. And he seems like the type of person that will keep using Astarion forever- continuing to find new, convoluted ways to keep Astarion trapped under his thumb.

And besides, if you keep this gem a secret, you might be able to turn this around in your favor. When people want something, they get desperate and they stop thinking. It was how Raphael had managed to trick Astarion into this contract to begin with and it was how Raphael was able to use you to lure Astarion into a rather obvious trap.

No, now you might be able to use your gem to get Astarion out of his contract.

“I’m not leaving here without her,” Astarion says, through gritted teeth.

“Then stay. You can join my other eternal debtors. I’ve got a lovely cell here just waiting for you.” Raphael adopts an air that suggests he’s growing bored with the conversation now that his threats have landed. “The way I see it, you have two choices- you can give your soul to me now or you can leave and pretend to be ‘free’ until your death. You’ll get your pretty wife back when you find me my gem.”

Raphael levels Astarion with a smarmy grin. He’s dropped all pretenses of being charming at this point. “And I’ll be nice. I’ll let you come visit her from time to time. Though, I can promise you that with each visit, she’s going to look less and less lovely until I get my gem. And as a sign of good faith, I’ll even let you decide whether you want your servant back or whether you’d like her to stay and look after your wife in your absence.”

What a nasty, vile man.

The idea of staying here forever seems miserable, for either you or Astarion. And poor Shadowheart- you know that if it comes down to it, Astarion will happily sacrifice her safety if it means you’re offered slightly more protection.

While Raphael continues talking, waxing poetic in an ostentatious villain monologue that serves no purpose other than to remind Astarion that Raphael owns him, you work on releasing your hair pins from where they were tucked into your sleeve. The angle is awkward and the chains are digging painfully into your wrists, cutting and rubbing against your skin. You feel your skin tear, the wet blood lubricating your movements as you try to work the pins into the lock over your head.

Astarion’s eyes dart over to you- the red tinged with fear and beneath that, hunger. He could smell your blood from where your wrists were rubbing the chains. You shake your head subtly at him to signify that he shouldn’t draw attention to you and he dutifully looks back to Raphael. Even now, it was as if the two of you still had your own hidden language.

It’s hard- your hands don’t have much movement and you’re starting to lose feeling in your fingers after so long of having your arms raised above your head, but you eventually manage to snake the pin into the lock on the chains.

You don’t let the chains clatter open immediately and give away your new advantage. Instead, you take a moment to survey the room and plan how you are going to move. There’s a stupid set of decorative crossed daggers on the wall to your left. It’s ridiculous- this whole room is filled with stupid artifacts but at least these you can use to your advantage. If you move fast enough, you can reach the daggers before the guards are able to descend on you.

You move. There’s chaos.

The guards try to catch you and everybody swings into action. There’s arrows flying and the clink of metal as swords hit against one another and you don’t look back. You just continue moving forward toward the daggers.

When you manage to yank one off the wall, you whirl around to survey the scene. Everyone is fighting. Astarion’s plunging his daggers into bodies left and right struggling to move closer to you.

And Raphael is right in front of you.

The good thing about your back being against a wall is that no one can sneak up on you. The bad thing is that you’re cornered.

“Drop the knife,” he says, his hand reaching out to take it from you. “We both know you don’t know how to use it.”

Condescending asshole.

It is probably a safe assumption on his part. Women weren’t trained in combat or swords. But you, for better or for worse, had been too curious as a child. You had snuck in to watch your brother’s sword fighting lessons. You had practiced with the wooden swords when no one was watching.

And besides, it was not in your nature to go down without a fight.

“Wrong,” you snarl. You fake a step that catches Raphael off guard and you’re able to plunge the knife into his side.

He grunts, doubling over in pain and clutching at where the knife sticks out of his stomach. You use the opportunity to knee him in the groin and push him to the ground. You aren’t sure how long it takes a devil to heal, but based on how quickly Astarion’s wounds heal, you’re assuming you have limited time before Raphael is coming back to his senses.

You need to move. And fast.

“You look so stunning covered in blood. I’ve never been so aroused in my life.” Astarion’s voice surprises you from where he’s standing right next to you. It was almost supernatural, the speed with which he was able to make his way over to you. He was far more adept at fighting than you would have ever expected.

“Not the time, Astarion,” you snap back at him, even though his voice sinks into your bones, soothing you.

“I was expecting a bit more appreciation at my rescuing you, darling,” he mocks with a little pout.

Apparently, he was content to ignore the perilous nature of your surroundings in favor of poorly timed teasing. Typical. Your heart nearly bursts with how much you love him.

Still, you roll your eyes at him. “I had it handled!”

Which, okay, is maybe a lie. But you did have at least some ideas on your escape plot. And a part of you, deep down, is still angry at Astarion, even if that anger is currently eclipsed by your relief at seeing him.

You’re pulled out of your moment with Astarion and acutely reminded of all the fighting surrounding you when a sword slices by you, barely missing your head. Astarion growls and reacts almost immediately, pushing you behind him. Astarion’s getting ready to attack the man with his daggers when an arrow lodges itself in the man’s throat and you think you hear Wyll let out a delighted cry that his shot landed so perfectly.

Despite all this chaos, you still needed to find a way to talk to Astarion. Somehow, you need to let him know that you have the final gem and that the two of you can use this as a bargaining chip.

“And I have something else, too. At home. Something you need.” You pull Astarion’s attention back to you by nudging him. You try to communicate with your eyes because you still don’t want to yell out ‘I have the final gem of Karsus.’

Astarion, the beautiful dolt that he is, doesn’t catch your meaning. He simply tilts his head a bit to the side and lets a wicked grin spread across his face, “Is now really the time to try out new lines on me, pet? I’m still a bit mad at you.”

“I’m still mad at you, too,” you shoot back defensively. Even in the midst of battle, the reminder that you have hurt Astarion makes you feel horrible.

“Good. Glad we have that settled.”

In the time that you and Astarion have been distracted by your bickering, you have wasted your precious time to escape. Raphael is standing again and you watch as he pulls the knife out of his abdomen, his face barely moving despite what you’re sure is tremendous pain.

Astarion adjusts his grip on the daggers he holds in each hand and you reach out, grabbing another knife from his belt for yourself.

“Newlyweds.” Raphael laughs- a deep, sinister thing that makes your skin crawl. “How sweet.” He spits out that last word in a way that makes you acutely aware that he means the exact opposite of what he is saying. “I have been more than fair, Astarion. I believe it’s time you paid for your insolence.”

You catch how Astarion’s spine stiffens at his words.

And then, quicker than you can blink, Astarion is darting forward to slice at Raphael.

It’s stunning to watch Astarion fight. If you couldn’t see the daggers in his hands, you would think he was dancing.

You would try to help, but you’d probably just get in Astarion’s way more than anything. Instead, you watch his back, carefully scanning the room. Over Raphael’s shoulder, you catch Lae’zel taking down the final guard near Shadowheart and working to free her from the shackles around her own wrists.

When Shadowheart is freed, the two of them loom behind Raphael. Good- you can use this to your advantage. Lae’zel gets a good swing at him with her heavy broadsword that causes Raphael to let out a grunt of pain.

He bends in on himself and you’re starting to think that Lae’zel may have injured him more than you thought when Raphael’s skin turns an eerie, unnatural shade of red. Giant bat-like wings unfurl from his back and he lets them spread out. You just stand watching, stunned, as his wings move and he lifts himself into the vaulted ceilings above you so he can retreat to a less occupied section of the room.

“Fucking wings?” you ask Astarion with disbelief.

“He’s a devil. What did you expect? Kittens and fluffy puppies?” Astarion shoots back.

“Don’t condescend to me,” you hiss. “I’m not stupid, I’ve just never seen a devil before.”

You stick behind Astarion and Lae’zel, letting them cut and carve through the foot soldiers as you struggle to regroup with everyone else. Astarion slits the throat of another guard, the blood spraying wildly. It speckles Astarion’s lovely white curls and a few drops even manage to land on your cheek. You catch the way Astarion’s eyes hungrily follow your movements as you swipe the blood away. In a less dire situation, you’d reach out and let him taste the blood on your fingers. He shakes his head as if to refocus himself.

“Never called you stupid, pet,” he says. “Naive, certainly. Reckless, definitely. Foolish… perhaps.”

You laugh. “You’re calling me foolish? Really, what was your plan here, Astarion?”

“Well, I figured we’d come here, and we’d rescue you.” Astarion narrows his eyes at you. “Not sure I needed many more details than-”

“Focus,” Lae’zel interrupts, her voice sharp and commanding. “This is a battle. This is not the time for your strange mating rituals.”

You feel your face heat up. You had not realized that you and Astarion were so obvious about the fact that both of you grew rather flustered and aroused by prodding each other. And while your verbal sparring still feels loving (everything involving Astarion had an undercurrent of love that would never go away), there was still a whisper of anger in both your words. Even after all this, neither of you would be so easy to forgive.

Close by, the rest of the group is holding strong. You think you hear Karlach shouting with glee. You’re not entirely sure what Gale is doing, but it seems to be working? One of the guards looks like they’re on fire.

You think you might be able to win this, that the tides might be turning in your favor. And then Raphael starts speaking in some foreign, chanting language and moving his hands in a strange way and more men in metal armor appear seemingly out of thin air.

Is this… all those people in the cells? Those who had sold their souls to Rapahel were then forced to bend to his will and obey for eternity? Astarion had escaped Cazador and now he was doomed to this fate when he died. There would be no freedom for him, not really. Not unless you killed Raphael.

All plans for escape are banished from your mind. You were getting Astarion out of here and in charge of his own fate for once even if it was the last thing you’d ever do.

There’s more fighting. More clashing of swords. A lot more blood.

Raphael seems perfectly content to watch the action unfold from his heavily fortified position at the front of the room.

“Chk,” Lae’zel makes strange, displeased noise. “We must get to the source and kill him. Otherwise, this will never end.”

Astarion, Lae’zel, Shadowheart, and you start working on moving closer toward Raphael while Karlach, Gale, Wyll, and Halsin remain cornered by the pillars at the entrance of the room. You aren’t entirely sure how much you’re actually helping, other than occasionally managing to slice out at guards who had entered another’s blind spots. Lae’zel does most of the heavy lifting and Astarion is sneaky and nimble, able to deftly take out guards twice his size.

The closer you get to Raphael, the more distracted he is, making him unable to summon more large quantities of more guards.

You can do this, you think. You can kill him.

And then, when you’re nearly in front of him, Raphael does that strange whispering chant again. You’re trying to decipher what he might be saying, staring intently at his mouth when-

Bang.

Some sort of wave of energy knocks into you and makes you sink to your knees. Your ears are ringing, and your head feels like it’s spinning and are you… crying? You reach your hand up to wipe away the tears and through your blurry vision, you see the red staining your hands. You were crying blood. And you feel warm liquid spilling from your ears and nose, too.

Through the ringing in your ears, you think you hear Shadowheart and Lae’zel fall down as well, impaired by the blast. You try to turn your head to look at Astarion, but it sends a wave of nausea through you that has you holding tight to the ground as the room spins around you.

Astarion looks disoriented, but he’s still standing. Good.

You hear heavy footsteps next to you.

“I guess she didn’t inspire the motivation in you that I had hoped.” You hear Raphael say, but he still sounds distant in your stunned state. “Let’s see how this works instead.”

Rough hands pull your hair at the roots and you let out a pained cry before your head is bashed into the wall.

Holy fuck, that hurts.

There are stars dancing across the edge of your vision. Your head feels like your heart is beating directly inside your skull, squeezing painfully against your brain.

You think you hear Raphael laughing and Astarion screaming in rage.

That’s not good. You don’t like when Astarion is mad. You want to make him happy forever.

Your head is bashed into the wall again.

—---------

The crack your head makes against the wall is sickening. And when you crumple to the ground, Astarion is sure that the blood rapidly pooling around your head isn’t just a trick of the light.

That’s… No… This is all wrong.

Astarion wasn’t supposed to watch you die right in front of him. He was supposed to rescue you and take you home and then you would finally apologize and mean this time and he would forgive you and the two of you would go back to your little world of bliss.

He’s in a blind panic, on a mission to get to you. Maybe there was still time? Maybe Shadowheart could still heal you? She should be an expert on working with blood loss by now.

Astarion fights like a man possessed.

On the ride to the city, he had imagined how he’d kill Raphael. Slowly, deliberately. He’d start with his fingers- cut them off one by one for ever daring to touch you. He’d pry out his eyes next, then his tongue. And then, just when Raphael lost consciousness, Astarion would finally slit his throat and kill him.

It all sounded so wonderful and bloody.

But whatever energy wave Raphael had unleashed had crippled you, Lae’zel, and Shadowheart. Astarion was disoriented, but he was the only one left standing. He was the only left that could fight. But even he is feeling the effects of the blast. He’s slow and sloppy. Astarion tries to attack with his daggers, but he misses completely.

“Come on, boy, you can do better than that,” Cazador taunts.

No, wait… that’s not right. Cazador is dead. This was Raphael- but for a second, he sounded so remarkably similar to Cazador. How many times had Astarion heard those exact words fall out of Cazador’s mouth?

Lae’zel and Shadowheart are both fighting to return to their feet and Astarion thinks he catches Shadowheart folding over to retch. They can’t fight like this. And your eyes are blearily attempting to blink open, but you look bad. Astarion is running out of time.

Raphael conjures a stake in his hand and takes slow steps forward, advancing. Astarion stumbles backward, still struggling to stay balanced on his feet after the combined shocks of Raphael’s energy surge and watching your head be bashed into the wall.

“A pity it had to come to this but you really were as much of a burden to me as you were to Cazador,” Raphael says, continuing to move toward Astarion. “He always hated you the most- that’s part of why I picked you. That and you always seemed the easiest to manipulate. You’re so scared. It makes you weak.”

Astarion’s back hits a wall. Dread settles in the pit of his stomach and Raphael’s entire face contorts with a ugly, devilish smile as he readies the stake to be plunged into Astarion’s heart.

“And now, you’ll die,” Raphael says menacingly. “Just another one of Cazador’s whores to be forgotten.” Raphael laughs. “Did you really believe that she loved you? I always knew you were stupid, but I never imagined you would be that naive.”

So, this was how Astarion was going to die… And no one would be able to save him.

And then, seemingly out of nowhere, you appear. A streak of silver flashes across Astarion’s vision and blood is spurting into Astarion’s face from where you had used the last of your strength to jam the knife into the side of Raphael’s neck. Had both Astarion and Raphael truly been so caught up in their confrontation that they had failed to notice you stumbling over toward them?

You look completely ethereal- his guardian angel, his savior. Astarion’s prayers were finally answered the day the universe gave you to him.

And you also look very unsteady on your feet as your eyes flutter shut again. You crumple, Astarion shocks himself with how quickly he’s able to move and catch you in his arms. Raphael makes a horrible gurgling noise as one of his hands comes up to claw desperately at his throat, but he can wait.

Astarion lowers you gently back to the floor before grabbing his daggers again. He slices Raphael’s throat open and plunges the other directly into his heart. He’d tell Lae’zel to behead Raphael later, just so to be sure he is dead, but right now Astarion’s main priority is you.

Astarion rushes back to you, falling to the floor as he pulls your head into his lap, attempting to coax you awake again. He hears himself screaming for anybody to help. Shadowheart is there, inspecting you with a critical eye.

“I’m sorry, Astarion- there’s not… Her head. I can’t do anything about that,” Shadowheart says.

And in that moment, Astarion doesn’t even think. You were dying and there was only one thing left that he could do to ensure that he didn’t lose you. He had to turn you into a vampire. He cradles your arm, biting into your wrist and draining the remaining blood from your body. There’s not much left, but hopefully it’s enough for the transformation to work.

Your heart stops beating.

The fleeting thought crosses his mind that he could stop here. He could find some patch of dirt to bury you and he could wait until you claw your way back out of the earth. You would be his spawn and he could make sure that you would never leave him.

But that feels all wrong. You were someone who resisted control and you would resent him forever if he did that. He would always be left doubting whether you truly loved him or if it was only because he left you with no other choice. Astarion tears his teeth into his own wrist and cups his hand gently around the back of your head, careful to avoid the spot where your head had been smashed into the wall, as he guides your mouth up to drink his own blood.

The greatest threat to a vampire is another vampire. Especially someone like you, who was already naturally drawn to suspicion and scheming.

Astarion doesn’t care.

If your first action when you awoke was to rip the heart from his chest and sink your teeth into the long-dead muscle, he would simply be grateful that his body could be your sustenance.

Astarion watches and waits. Your lashes flutter and your mouth latches around his wrist, suckling. He’s able to breathe again as a wave of relief washes over him. You would be all right, he had made it to you in time.

You look up at him through red, hooded eyes, teeth stained by his blood and Astarion knows that this is what you were meant to be. You always were a bit too wild to be human.

No, you were meant for this- for the carnal desires of flesh and blood.

It’s mesmerizing to watch you finally come alive.

-------------------

Notes:

That's right, we are now entering the vampire power couple era! But hey, good job Astarion for thinking about others and recognizing that leaving the reader as a spawn would have been a bad idea. I'm playing kind of fast and loose with vampire lore and rules (not like dnd or any other media is that consistent with the rules either lol), so in my mind you can circumnavigate the whole burying the person part if they immediately drink the blood of the vampire who turned them.

For not even being the longest chapter in this story, this one sure covered a lot! Hopefully, everyone remembered the mother's necklace from chapter 3. I try to be really intentional with the details I include, even if they seem a bit insignificant at first.

Next week, we get to deal with the fun repercussions of everyone's actions. How will the reader feel about being turned into a vampire? What will happen with the Crown of Karsus? Hehe everything will be answered in time, I promise.

As always, a huge thank you to my beta-writer, AliensNSuch on ao3. And a huge thank you to everyone reading- I hope you are all continuing to have as much fun with this story as I am!

Taglist: @ayselluna @idkbrodontaskme @maruichio @fanfic-share @the-littlest-bruja @asterordinary @divineknightmare @fandomarchiveilyd

Feel free to let me know if you would liked to be added/removed from the taglist for future chapters!

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 fanfic #baldurs gate 3 fancition #x reader #astarion bg3 #til death do us part

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celestial-toys · 1 year

Text

A Vivid Imagination

In today's story- you take a nap on the couch, and your favorite pair of pants give Sun an identity crisis. In other, somehow related news, he and Moon get caught up in thoughts of what they'd like to do to you.

Pairing: Sun and Moon + Reader Word Count: 2,673 minors DNI - 18+ content below the cut

Contains: [sex] [threesome] [fingering] [afab!Reader] [sub!bottom!Reader] [implied null!Sun & Moon] [soft dom!top!Sun & Moon] [chubby / plus-size Reader] [Eclipse makes an appearance but not in the traditional sense] [Porn With Plot]

Sun and Moon might be a little bit obsessed with getting you off.

Maybe a little bit.. addicted to how easy it is to make you cum, even with with nothing but their hands to work with. They can’t get enough of it.. it just does something to them. They’ll take any appropriate opportunity they can get to rile you up and bury their hands between your plush thighs, fingers sinking into your wet heat and homing in on the spots that make you whine for them.

You certainly don’t mind it in the slightest, and you’ve made that quite clear to them on multiple occasions. You’ve given them permission to play with you as much as they’d like, as long as they always remember to ask nicely first.

So, as Sun slinks his way through the house one evening, he finds you on the couch, apparently having fallen asleep. You’re sprawled cross it with your legs spread apart, eyes closed and head resting on one arm, finally relaxing after another long day in your office spent staring at that goddamned computer screen, and Sun’s mind is already wandering to ways he could help you relax even more.

You're wearing a soft, oversized black cowl neck sweater and a pair of those gaudy split-print clown pants that were supposed to look like a mix of the designs that their fictitious counterparts wore in-game. He feels a strange mix of emotions at the sight of you wearing “his” pants. He can’t tell if it’s possessiveness or jealousy but it’s mixing in with his sexual desire and his fans have to kick up a notch to keep his temperature stable. He wants to take them off of you for two very different reasons.

On one hand, they’re simply a barrier between him and what he desires. One that he’d like your permission to remove. While it was enjoyable sometimes to keep you clothed and have you grind yourself against him, begging, panting, and whining until you soaked them so thoroughly you’d have to take them off anyways.. it wasn’t quite as fun as having direct access to the most sensitive parts of you from the very start.

On the other hand, though.. the clown clothes also serve as a reminder of a number of other, much less exciting things. Sun remembers how he used to take the opportunity to mock them nearly every time you wore them, never really getting much more of a response from you than an eye roll in return, until one day when you’d apparently had enough and decided to tell him why you wore them so much.

“Sun, I’ve had these pants since long before I created you. When the two of you were nothing more than pixels on a screen and an insane pipe-dream in my mind, I would collect things that resembled the two of you. Because.. I mean.. who doesn’t collect merch of their favorite characters, right?”

He remembers the way you began to look embarrassed at the confession, but kept explaining nonetheless.

“I had no way of knowing at the time that one day you’d actually be standing here in my living room mocking me for them, but..”

You paused there, giving him a pointed look before continuing.

“..even if I had known that.. I probably would have still bought them anyways.”

At that, you looked down, running your hands down over the tops of your thighs, over the red and yellow stripes and the blue and yellow stars. Sun never forgot the look of fondness that graced your features as you did so. It made him feel something that he couldn’t name at the time.

Before he could come up with one of his signature snarky responses, you spoke again.

“It’s kind of funny, honestly. They also serve as a nice reminder of how far we’ve come. I wore them quite often during all those late nights I’d spend at work, fussing over the two of you, you know.”

Sun’s faceplate shifted a few clicks to the left, curious if you were about to drag him down a trip on Unpleasant Memory Lane. The expression on his screen changed, his default features fading to black and leaving nothing but his signature yellow smoke billowing across the screen. You knew him well enough at that point to know that that meant he wasn’t a fan of where the conversation was going. Sighing, you stopped yourself before you could get too far into all of that.

“Regardless of any of that.. these pants were here first, they’re comfortable as hell, and I happen to love the way your original designs looked. You’re gonna have to come up with a better reason than them being an eye sore for me to stop wearing them.”

You got up from where you’d been seated, walking over to him just to make a big, playful show out of poking him in the chest as you spoke.

“You know, lots of people would be flattered to see their partner wearing their clothes.”

Sun brought his eyes back from the void of his screen just to roll them at you, and his rays took one lazy spin around his faceplate before he responded.

“Those aren’t my clothes though. You know I wouldn’t be caught dead in those things.”

You smiled up at him as you took a step back, and you took in the sight of all seven skinny feet of him before saying,

“Well, I can’t very well fit into your actual pants, now can I?”

You gestured to his impossibly tall, slender frame, and then to your much shorter and wider form before giving a dismissive laugh and returning to your prior spot on the couch. After a moment of standing there taking in your words, Sun finally decided to drop the subject.

Ever since then, somewhere, in the back of his mind, he’s wondered if.. underneath your jokes about your size differences.. if it actually bothered you that you couldn’t fit into most of their clothes.

He truly hopes that it doesn’t.

In spite of his relentless mocking of the iconic clown pants, nowadays part of him is actually glad that you have something to wear that feels like it’s theirs. He wants you to have something that reminds you of them.. both the (ridiculous) idea of them from the past, and the real-life version, standing here, zoned out in your living room today.

Before he can get any further carried away in his thoughts and memories, a notification flashes across his HUD.

[ 𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚛 𝑴𝑶𝑶𝑵𝑫𝑹𝑶𝑷 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚏𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜. ]

[ 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚃𝚁𝚄𝚂𝚃𝙴𝙳 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝. ]

[ 𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜? ]

Sun pulls his attention back into reality and his monitor silently rotates on it's axis, scanning the room. His optics quickly land on Moon, who is currently leaning against the doorframe leading in from the kitchen, arms crossed and looking at him expectantly.

Sun rolls his eyes in exaggerated annoyance and mirrors Moon’s stand-offish position, leaning back against the opposite wall.

[ 𝕒𝕔𝕔𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕘𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕕. ]

Moon smiles.

[ 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏, 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒆? ]

[ 𝕪𝕖𝕒𝕙. 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕚𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕥𝕖 𝕟𝕚𝕔𝕖 𝕦𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕝 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕠𝕪𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕡𝕠𝕡-𝕦𝕡 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕣𝕦𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕞𝕖. ]

It’s now Moon’s turn to roll his eyes.

[ 𝒐𝒉, 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒏, 𝑺𝒖𝒏. 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒗𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒕 6 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 39 𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒔. 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒅𝒊𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒚 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒕. ]

[ 𝕚’𝕞 𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕜𝕖𝕖𝕡 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕪𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗, 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨. ]

[ 𝒊 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘. 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒊𝒈𝒖𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒊'𝒅 𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒑𝒖𝒍𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 𝒃𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆 ******* 𝒘𝒂𝒌𝒆𝒔 𝒖𝒑 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒑. ]

[ 𝕒𝕤 𝕚𝕗 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕕𝕠𝕟’𝕥 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕒 𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕜 𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕠𝕗 𝕕𝕠𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕖𝕩𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕝𝕪 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥? ]

[ 𝒚𝒆𝒔, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒐 𝒊𝒕. ]

Sun lets out a loud, annoyed sigh, the first actual sound to break the silence in the room, and both bots look to your dozing form on the couch to see if it might have woken you. You don’t stir, and the tension slowly drops from Sun’s shoulders.

[ 𝕕𝕠𝕟’𝕥 𝕥𝕒𝕝𝕜 𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕖 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕓𝕖𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕣. 𝕦𝕟𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕞𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕖𝕧𝕠𝕜𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕒𝕔𝕔𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕒𝕘𝕒𝕚𝕟? ]

Moon holds his hands up in mock surrender.

[ 𝒂𝒍𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕.. 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒆, 𝒃𝒖𝒕.. 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒍𝒚, 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆𝒏'𝒕 𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒖𝒑 𝒊𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆? ]

Sun doesn’t feel like explaining how your stupid clown pants nearly sent him into a spiral revisiting the complex history of his identity issues today, nor does he have the desire to drag Moon into it, so he tells a half-lie.

[ .. 𝕚 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕙𝕠𝕨 𝕓𝕒𝕕𝕝𝕪 𝕚 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕒𝕜𝕖 *******’𝕤 𝕡𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕤 𝕠𝕗𝕗. ]

Moon’s expression shifts from one of concern into a look of confusion as he tries to make sense of why Sun had been standing there, looking so conflicted, if that’s really all that he’s been thinking about.

[ 𝒐𝒉 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚? 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕'𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒍? ]

A few tense seconds pass before Sun responds.

[ 𝕞𝕙𝕞. ]

Moon doesn’t buy it for one second.

Still, he lets the lie slide for two reasons. For one, there’s no getting the truth out of Sun unless he actually wants to share it. The second reason, though.. is a bit more of a selfish one.

Sun isn’t the only one that wants to take your clothes off, and if he is willing to elaborate on his supposed thoughts.. then Moon isn’t going to turn down the potential opportunity to join in.

If Sun’s gonna lie to him, he’s gonna have to commit to his story, too.

[ 𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒏.. 𝒅𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒇𝒖𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒆𝒙𝒄𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒗𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒆? ]

Sun looks almost taken aback for a moment, surprised that Moon let his half-lie slip by so easily, until he suddenly smirks at the realization of what Moon is hinting at.

Well, if Moon is willing to let it go and move on to some far more pleasant thoughts.. who is Sun to deny him?

He thinks it over for a moment, taking in your soft sleeping form, and when he looks over to Moon for confirmation of his request, he finds his lunar counterpart’s gaze already cast over you with that familiar, cautious desire in his eyes.

Sun fiddles with a few internal settings before initiating the process.

A few moments later, an identical alert pops up on both of their HUDs at the same time.

[ 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝙴𝙲𝙻𝙸𝙿𝚂𝙴 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝚃𝙾𝙲𝙾𝙻. ]

[ 𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶: 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚎𝚎𝚍, 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚗-𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚎. 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚏𝚞𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚎𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚍. ]

[ 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚎𝚎𝚍? ]

[ 𝑴𝑶𝑶𝑵𝑫𝑹𝑶𝑷 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙲𝙴𝙴𝙳. ]

[ 𝕊𝕌ℕ𝔻ℝ𝕆ℙ 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙲𝙴𝙴𝙳. ]

[ 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜’ 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚍. ]

[ 𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐.. ]

There’s no stopping the next flood of thoughts they get. Their motions now in sync, every sensation, thought, and emotion felt simultaneously between them, their gaze homes in on you. Still sleeping, unaware of the growing desire you spark in your partners when you shift a little and your legs fall even further open. Unaware of the show they’re preparing to put on in their combined headspace.

Thoughts of how you're already on display for them, if you'd just let them pull those damn pants down..

They know you're not wearing underwear. You rarely do.. not in the evenings like this. It gives them easier access. Just one less thing to get in the way with how most nights they approach you begging to touch you, pleading to help you feel good. They just want you to feel so goddamn good for them. They can't help it.

They can already imagine just how wet your cunt’s gonna get for them.. and those fucking sounds, god, the sounds you’ll make when they finally touch you. The way your breath will hitch when they trace a finger gently up between your folds, your slick immediately coating their digits, helping the smooth silicone glide effortlessly up, further and further, agonizingly slow. They won’t give you what you want right away. Where’s the fun in that? Besides, it always feels better when there’s some anticipation involved.

They’ll trace slow, teasing circles around the base of your hard little clit until you can’t take it anymore. When your voice takes on that desperate, pleading edge and one set of their hands has to hold your hips still to prevent you from moving around under their slow, calculated pleasure, they finally show you some mercy. One wet thumb reaches up and runs up along the underside of your clit, so slow, so gentle, over and over again.

Never going any faster, never changing pace, just a rhythmic stroke across your most sensitive bundle of nerves, soft yet relentless until you start whimpering again. They'll pull away for a moment to soothe you like always, reassuring you.

One of them will climb up onto the couch with you, pulling you into their embrace as they cup your cheek, directing you to look at them.

"It's okay, Sunlight.. we know.. it's intense, isn't it?“

You’ll nod your head vehemently, over and over, desperation and want clearly written across your features as you make some sweet, shy noise of agreement.

“Mhm.. but you know we've got you, right?"

Instead of returning their attention to your clit, as they await your response, two long fingers will slip inside of you, meeting little resistance as your hips buck and your walls tighten around them in an effort to bring them further inside.

Your eyes meet theirs and once again you nod your head in acknowledgment, a quiet little whine of “please, please take care of me..” falling from your lips.

You know they’ve got you.

They’ll smile. An identical, love-drunk, hungry grin will spread across the screens of both of their faceplates. They’re so close, bodies caging you in against the too-small couch such that you can feel the hot air escaping from their vents against your skin. They’ll speak again, one of their hands finally returning to give you the attention you desperately need.

“That's right, Starlight.. just let it feel good. We know you can take this for us. Let us see how wet you can get, yeah? How much of a mess you can make.."

They know you’re sensitive. They'll be sure to take good care of you.

A pop-up flashes in the center of their vision.

[ 𝙲𝙰𝚄𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽: 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚎𝚡𝚌𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚜. 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚊𝚐𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝙰𝚂𝙰𝙿 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚕 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚖 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚢𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚖. ]

[ 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚙𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜. ]

[ 𝙳𝙸𝚂𝙴𝙽𝙶𝙰𝙶𝙴 𝚘𝚛 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙲𝙴𝙴𝙳 ]

Both bots release reluctant groans into the quiet room, the only other sound being that of their fans working overtime trying to keep their temperatures down.

Then, they notice how you begin to stir from your little nest on the couch.

[ 𝑴𝑶𝑶𝑵𝑫𝑹𝑶𝑷 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝙳𝙸𝚂𝙴𝙽𝙶𝙰𝙶𝙴. ]

[ 𝕊𝕌ℕ𝔻ℝ𝕆ℙ 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝙳𝙸𝚂𝙴𝙽𝙶𝙰𝙶𝙴. ]

[ 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜’ 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚖𝚎𝚍. ]

[ 𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐.. ]

As soon as they finish the short separation process, they’re making their way over to you and dropping down on their knees in front of the couch, asking for your permission in record time.

You blink open your tired eyes and can't help but smile a bit when you see the both of them with their long fingers anxiously hovering over the waistband of your pants. They lock eyes with you and with a quick “Can we? Please?” they don’t even need to specify what they want. You know, and you’re happy to oblige them.

You hate to say no to those puppy dog eyes, anyways. Especially when they’re looking up at you like this, deep beautiful shades of burgundy, desperate and pleading.

You want to give them what they want, after all.

It just so happens that most often, what they want is to see how fast they can have your legs trembling, hands searching for purchase on any part of them you can reach, whining and repeating their names over and over like they’re God and you’re praying.

A/N: FYI, this story takes place in my ‘[Not] Made by Design’ AU, if you’re curious as to why the hell they’re behaving so differently from canon. It’s intentional! Also, I made a slight change to the wording of the sexual part of this, compared to the version of it I posted on AO3. It's inconsequential, really, but I figured I'd mention it. If you'd like to see the original and/or read more on where the original inspiration came from, you can find it here.

#sundrop #moondrop #five nights at freddy's #sundrop smut #moondrop smut #fnaf smut #fnaf nsft #fnaf security breach #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #daycare attendant #the daycare attendant #nsft writing #fnaf sun and moon #security breach smut #sun x reader #moon x reader #Seven.txt - Under The Stars #[Not] Made by Design #cw smut #dear all 37 of my beloved followers.. today i offer you smut even though i said i was gonna focus on hurt/comfort #tomorrow?? who knows..#but seriously tho i am working on sfw stuff i just wanted to get this up first cause i've already posted it on AO3 a little while back #the kudos to hits ratio on it was the worst of all my posted fics thus far so. perhaps this isn't that good. but that's okay #probably just cause this is so far removed from canon #alas #i'm gonna write my silly little meta story even if i'm it's only fan

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